Killed Me? Now I Have Your Power

Chapter 386: Chapter 386: Sul Lotus Blood [3]

Chapter 386 – Sul Lotus Blood [3]

Words refused to escape Kaden’s mouth. The direction of the talk had gone in a way he never expected.

Yet the words of the old beggar echoed deep inside his mind, as slowly, he began to imagine how it would feel to die in that way.

A slow and painful death. A death very different from everything he had ever gone through.

After all, almost all his deaths were fast ones. Painful, yes, but swift enough to not feel them for long.

And even those that were slow did not involve him losing his dignity as a human before death swallowed him.

Because that was what it was.

You first died by going back to a time where you were a defenseless baby, but with the mind of a man who had matured and lived through things.

It would break you.

That kind of end would feel particularly terrible for someone who had attained immense strength.

Thinking about all of this, Kaden began to fear — somehow — that kind of death.

But still...

"Why," Prometheus began, his eyebrows knitting together, "are you telling me all of this, old beggar?"

The old man spared him a wolfish grin, his eyes still looking at the sky as if able to see things even Kaden could not.

"I told you, suicidal boy, didn’t I? Yes, I did," he said. "I only talk about what one inspires in me. I do not control my mouth. I do not control my words. I just open it, and everything flows out on its own."

"Am I supposed to understand something inside those words?" Kaden inquired once more. "If yes, it seems the lesson has eluded me."

"Not every lesson is meant to be understood the moment you learn it," the old beggar whispered, now looking at Kaden. "Not every one of them. But you should remember this, boy."

"Not every death is as honorable as your family likes to make us believe," he said with a smile.

"You think so?" Kaden allowed a faint smile, though it was strained.

"I do," he nodded fearlessly, looking at the haze of people slowly beginning to dance in the distance. "Many of us will not die with a weapon in our hand, protecting our home or our loved ones. No, boy, not at all. Many of us will die as collateral damage in the wars you will fight. And if not, we will die while rotting away in our beds, thinking about what could have been."

He laughed derisively. "If not a bed," he tapped the hard ground with his bloodied right hand, "then this one will do just fine."

"We do not fight because we seek it," Kaden retorted, his eyes narrowing. "We fight to protect this stronghold, to protect our values and our freedom. Not because we are warmongers."

"Does it matter?" the old beggar snickered, then spat to his left without care. "The point is, they will die. They will die while thinking they would die honorably as a Warborn. Only because the whispers said so."

"Are you judging us?"

"I am not." He shook his head. "I know the necessity of war and its cruelties. And I know how important it is to keep the minds of us — little, poor folks — trapped under a certain belief."

"But I am different, suicidal boy."

"That," Kaden said, "I am not blind enough to not notice. I wonder why? What makes you different? A unique power?"

"Power?" the beggar scoffed, then spat once more. "Suicidal boy, a man in power can also be a fool. Do you see the little nobles living in their luxurious homes? Are they more aware of reality? No, I tell you! Not at all!"

"Aren’t they only your dogs? Of course they are!"

He spoke so strongly that spit smeared the air.

"So hear me well, boy! Listen, and don’t forget it. Maybe you will understand one day."

The old man’s eyes glowed with sudden intensity.

"I am not fooled because I am aware of this world. I am living on my own terms, with my own customs, not following others who walk around half-asleep, swallowing everything the world feeds them!"

"And most importantly of all, boy." He raised his hand with immense difficulty and pointed at his head. "I am aware of death."

Kaden paused at that, cocking his head slightly to the side. He parted his lips.

"Everyone is aware of death, beggar." His voice came out colder than he wanted it to. He internally admonished himself, wondering why the beggar’s words irritated him so much.

At his words, the old beggar barked a laugh, only to cough furiously, spit mixed with blood spilling from his mouth.

In a heartbeat, he was out of breath, gasping for air like a fish out of water.

Kaden took a step forward to help him, only for the beggar to wave him off. He halted and watched.

He watched how death clung tightly to this mortal, seeking to drag him into the next life.

But the beggar was stubborn. He held on without flinching, managing to breathe again — slow and raspy, but enough to keep living.

His face was drenched in sweat, his eyes sunken, shadowed by unknown burdens, heavy and tired. Yet Kaden was amazed by the glow inside them.

A fierce glow of understanding, of tranquility, that made his intent of death tremble with awe.

The beggar parted his dry, cracking lips.

"You see," he breathed, shallow and weak, "that is what I was saying, boy. I am aware of death. I truly am. How could I not be? I feel it breathing on my neck and spine every single second."

Kaden remained silent.

"And you say everyone is aware of death." The old man almost laughed again but restrained himself. "Are you a fool, O Hero?"

His tone sounded mocking. No, it was mocking. It sounded like a grandfather berating his own grandson for a foolish decision.

Kaden didn’t know why that feeling struck him. But he did not let pride or arrogance cloud him into reacting rashly to simple mockery.

He stayed still and listened.

Like a student before his master.

Like a grandson before his grandfather.

"You listen well," the beggar said, then spat. "Good. Very good. So listen to this well, boy."

He raised his trembling hand and pointed toward the folk dancing under the moonlight, smiling and giggling.

"You are right, boy."

"Everyone knows they are going to die," the old beggar said. "But nobody believes it."

BADUM—!

Kaden’s intent of death flared, then abruptly stilled. As if the insight was incomplete, or his comprehension still too shallow.

The beggar continued smoothly, unbothered by Kaden’s inner turmoil.

"That is why I say I am aware. Because I am close to death. I know it is real. I know it will take me."

"But for them — young, healthy, with all their limbs working and a future to look forward to..." He slowly lowered his hand. "Death is only a myth. Even though they have witnessed it at least once."

"Humans are strange like that," he chuckled.

"What does it change?" Kaden finally asked. "What does knowing death is real, truly being aware of it, change?"

"Everything," the beggar said. "Everything, boy. You will see the world as it truly is. The veils and adornments will fade away. And only then can you live."

"Isn’t it ironic?" He lowered his eyes. "I live free and well only after realizing this."

He paused, staring at Kaden, whose expression was unsettled.

The old man spat.

"So let me give you one last piece of advice. Take it deep within you. One day you will truly understand its meaning. Hopefully. Yes, hopefully."

He paused again, then slowly said, voice heavy with hidden clarity,

"Once you learn how to die, you learn how to live."

BADUM—!

Something stirred inside Kaden again, yet before his mind could grasp it, a presence appeared beside him, followed by a sweet, shy voice.

"Sorry," Inara said, looking at him. "I am late."

The feeling of enlightenment vanished like fire drowned in cold water. Frustration gnawed at Kaden’s chest.

Still, he forced a smile, turning toward her, and replied softly,

"You are right on time."

—End of Chapter 386—