Return of the Legendary Runesmith-Chapter 474 - 473- The truth(2)

Adrian remained silent for several long moments before finally speaking.

"Why are you showing me all this?" he asked, his voice low. "Are you trying to turn me against the deities?"

Even without witnessing these memories, his wariness toward the Gods had already been carved deep. The attack on the plantations back then was proof enough. Those beings who resided in the heavens were not worthy of trust. They lived for their own twisted desires, gazing upon the world below through a narrow, distorted lens, seeing mortals as little more than tools.

Nytharos let out a slow, heavy sigh. "Because all of this is intimately connected to you as well, Adrian."

The Runesmith gave a faint shrug. "Because I forged the Sword of Infinity?"

Nytharos nodded once. "That too."

Adrian’s brows lifted slightly. "Then there’s more."

Without another word, Nytharos snapped his fingers.

The illusion shattered, and the barren, cracked earth returned beneath their feet. The oppressive stillness of the Barren Lands settled around them once more, the air dry and lifeless.

Nytharos looked straight into Adrian’s eyes and asked quietly, "Have you still not regained your memories?"

Adrian hesitated before shaking his head. "Are you planning to exploit that?"

A faint smile curved Nytharos’s lips. It was subtle, but something about it was deeply unsettling. "No," he said softly. "I intend to tell you something that may help you remember who you once were."

Another snap echoed through the air.

The world shifted again.

They now stood in the middle of a small town—a place Adrian recognized instantly.

"This..." he murmured, his gaze slowly sweeping across the surroundings, "this is where the witches used to live."

Silence dominated the streets. Strange, arcane patterns were carved into the stone walls, weathered by time. Empty houses stood abandoned, their doors hanging loose, their windows dark and hollow. The air itself felt heavy, saturated with lingering echoes of lives long extinguished.

He knew this place.

He had seen it once before—when he died.

"You had a deep connection to this village, Avirin," Nytharos said, deliberately using the name tied to Adrian’s forgotten past.

The Fallen God fixed his gaze on one of the abandoned houses, its roof partially collapsed. "You were raised here," he continued. "Among the witches. An outcast despised by Apostles and devotees alike."

"I know that much," Adrian replied quietly.

Nytharos hummed in acknowledgment. "Then do you know why you left this village? Why you chose to stand alongside those who slaughtered your people—your parents—and everyone you loved?"

Adrian froze.

"My parents?" 𝒻𝑟𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝑛𝘰𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝘤𝘰𝘮

Nytharos tilted his head slightly. "You didn’t know? You weren’t adopted, Adrian. You were born here."

The words struck like a blade.

Adrian stood utterly still, staring at Nytharos, his eyes widening just a fraction as the revelation settled in. His thoughts spiraled, memories brushing against the edges of his consciousness but refusing to fully surface.

Nytharos noticed the reaction immediately. Adrian hadn’t known. Still, he felt no regret in revealing the truth.

"The witches," he continued, "were the only group who refused to blindly worship the deities. Despite relentless pressure from the Apostles and the calamities we inflicted upon them, they never wavered. They clung to their principles and fought for true independence until the very end."

Adrian’s jaw tightened.

Nytharos was not hiding his guilt. He admitted it plainly—the witches had been tormented for their beliefs, punished for choosing freedom over submission.

Adrian finally looked up. "What happened to them?" he asked quietly. "These outcasts... how did it end?"

Nytharos hummed thoughtfully. "True submission was our doctrine. And we had overwhelming numbers. One village after another fell. We slaughtered their people, burned their homes, and massacred everyone—regardless of age or gender. Those who refused to bow had their heads severed."

Adrian’s hand clenched into a fist. "Heartless bastards."

Nytharos didn’t deny it. "To achieve absolute dominance, yes. We made sacrifices—and adopted methods that were undeniably inhumane."

Adrian’s voice came out as a snarl. "Then why tell me all this?"

"Because," Nytharos replied calmly, "you deserve to know what truly caused your awakening."

Adrian fell silent.

His brows furrowed, his expression hard, silently urging Nytharos to continue.

The Fallen God sighed. "Before your birth, the balance of the world was tilting toward Darkness. And before Darkness arrived, the world was drowning in blinding illumination. You were the one who restored equilibrium, Avirin."

Snap.

The scenery shifted violently.

They were now high above the clouds, the wind roaring around them. Far below lay a ruined city.

Madness ruled.

Humans devoured one another.

People butchered each other over scraps of food.

Screams echoed as men and women were violated in the open streets.

Adrian couldn’t bear to look for more than a few seconds. It was as though humanity itself had rotted away, leaving behind only instinct and desperation.

"This," Nytharos said quietly, "is what happened when Darkness arrived. It was furious—betrayed and wounded. Its wrath stripped people of morality, erased virtue, and amplified every flaw. Hunger became endless. Lust consumed reason. Greed devoured family. And those who were once ordinary lost their sanity under the weight of what they witnessed."

Adrian had read about this in the journal the System had given him as a reward.

A thought surfaced. System... are you sure I should be seeing all this?

In the past, the System had always blocked knowledge tied to his origins.

But now—

[It is time the Host learns more about himself.]

Adrian’s brows lifted slightly. So even the System agreed.

Nytharos continued, "But do you know what happened when Darkness realized what it had done?"

Adrian remained silent. He had no memory of such an era.

Nytharos smiled faintly. "It felt regret."

Snap.

They now stood outside a village—one Adrian had visited not long ago.

Possibly the last refuge of the witches.

Adrian’s gaze sharpened as he spotted a massive, wounded man limping toward the settlement, each step heavy, labored.

Nytharos moved closer and said softly, "That... is Darkness."

Adrian’s eyes widened slightly. "So it’s true. The witches sheltered him."

"Yes," Nytharos replied, "but not for the reason you think."

A defeated smile crossed his face. "Darkness was never cornered. Never weakened."

His eyes narrowed. "Guilt made him realize the world needed change. And so, he chose to create it—someone capable of saving it."

Adrian turned toward him. "Create it? You mean...?"

Nytharos nodded. "A child."

Then, with a knowing grin, he asked,

"And do you want to know who that child was later known as?"

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A/N:- Now, we are talking. Thanks for reading. I won’t say we are close to the end but it has begun.