Killed Me? Now I Have Your Power

Chapter 476: Chapter 476: Choose for me

Chapter 476 – Choose for me

...Pandora?

Kaden’s mind reeled, his eyes widening as thoughts churned coldly inside him, a coldness that spread through his whole body and froze him to the chair.

’Pandora is the Tower? And...’ he lifted his head gingerly to meet Historian’s cold sneer. ’She kills everyone who approaches it?’

But how was that possible?

Setting aside the fact that Pandora and the Tower were one and the same, how was she causing the slow death of everyone in the tribe?

And more than anything...

"Why?" Kaden rasped, his voice heavy with the gnawing need to understand. "Accepting the fact that she is the Tower..."

"Are you doubting my words, wise boy?" Historian laughed harshly.

"...why does she stop anyone from approaching it?" Kaden continued, dismissing the interruption. "It doesn’t make sense."

"How would it make sense to you?" Historian narrowed his yellow eyes. "Only by knowing the full story will you understand why she is so willing to kill anyone who breaks the rules she put in place."

"The rules?" Kaden’s eyes went wide. "She created the rules?"

"Who else?" The short yellow-skinned man spat, scratching his beard with obvious irritation. "She created everything, wise boy. She decided what we wear, what we eat, and the system of regulations hanging over this tribe like a frozen blanket. Gods below, she even decides when and how the tribesmen have children."

The more he spoke, the higher Kaden’s dread rose, climbing and climbing until it coiled around his throat, his mouth dry and tight.

"Everything you see in this tribe, and the tribe itself, was created by her. Pandora of Sorrow." He scratched harder. "Don’t be fooled by her appearance, wise boy. Don’t be fooled by it."

"Then why?" Kaden breathed. "Why is she stopping anyone from reaching the Tower?"

"To not wake him up."

"Who?"

"Vainglory, of course."

Kaden sucked a deep, painful breath into his tired lungs. His Heart of Rune — already strained from its overwhelming work — strained further still as the revelations piled on top of each other, and a tapestry of understanding began to unfurl in front of him.

Slowly, almost breathlessly, he began connecting everything he had gone through with Pandora over the past weeks.

And his insides went colder. And colder still.

The Quest was now almost fully visible to him. What he had glimpsed was enough to make his chest ripple like unstable water.

He had never faced anything like this.

’You are doing this on purpose.’ Kaden grated inwardly, wheezing, closing his eyes to stop his failing heart from dropping him. ’What is your wish, Will? What is your goal? Tell me why...’

The words wouldn’t come out properly. But the meaning was clear. And somewhere deep inside him — in a place even he couldn’t name — the questions echoed again and again like the shriek of a mindless banshee.

Why did they have to wait until a bond had been formed with Pandora before sharing this?

Why did they have to wait until the night Pandora had crept beside him thinking he was asleep — her small hands curling around his own, giving him the only real comfort he had felt in this strange place — before letting him know?

Why always this? Why always choices?

’Just choose for me, damn it!’ He slammed his head against the table with a loud crack, rock splintering and scattering. His body shook with a deep, terrible exhaustion.

Historian watched but said nothing. He held that same lassitude from before, that unmoving state where everything simply was.

And yet beneath it, a part of him, withered like old leather by life’s cruelty, stared at Kaden with eyes that understood far too well what the young man was going through.

The agony of being given a choice. Oh, how wrenching it had been the first time he had gone through that himself.

The moment you finally understood that having a choice was not a blessing.

It was a curse.

And Kaden was being devoured by it, unable to stop it — like a starved animal eating its own flesh to survive.

’Kaden—!’

’Do it, Reditha.’

’What?’ Reditha’s voice carried a rising fear.

’Tell me what to do. I’ll obey. Just tell me. I don’t want to choose anymore.’ His voice was small. So small that Reditha broke immediately into tears, unable to witness him like this.

So weak. So fragile. So exposed to the world’s storm.

He looked nothing like the man he was, as if the world had finally placed something on his shoulders far heavier than his will could support without caving.

A burden killing him from within, leaving the exterior intact. But even the exterior was beginning to follow. His Heart of Rune — slowly, but undeniably — had begun to die.

"Ah, I know, wise boy. I know well. The pain, the agony, the anguish coiling inside you and punching the breath out of your lungs." Historian said, voice lower than before. "I know it. Very well."

He paused, scratched his beard, then followed quietly.

"However, are you aware now, wise boy?" He looked at Kaden’s state with something close to pity. "Pandora stops us from approaching the Tower because doing so would wake Vainglory, whom she barely managed to trap inside her own true body after he destroyed a part of her."

Kaden didn’t react.

"Even she knew how to fear that monster!" He laughed without humour. "Oh, a monster to her, but a damned hero to us. A true hero, wise boy. But a tragic one. He was, wasn’t he? You two..." he paused, eyes moving over Kaden, "...you two look quite alike."

His lips twisted into something sorrowful.

"Tragic."

"What do you want from me?" Kaden asked, lifting his head. His face was the picture of a lost soul — a man with no direction, wandering through a world trying to pin him flat.

It was succeeding.

"The Goddess absorbs the sorrow we produce in order to grow stronger and heal her Tower." Historian said, his yellow eyes locking onto Kaden’s now rust-red ones. "The most efficient way to amplify our sorrow is to kill our loved ones and inflict us with ailments."

He leaned forward, showing his face fully.

And as if a veil had been lifted, Kaden saw the true state of the Historian — the yellow beard rotten, pale and near-translucent insects eating at his flesh with ravenous fury.

Kaden jerked back, face stricken by the sight.

"What is this?" He nearly shouted.

"This is what we endure, wise boy." Historian said, settling back into his seat without a flinch. "All of it to produce more sorrow for that hungry goddess and her weapon. And once Pandora is fully healed...even Vainglory, wounded and trapped and possibly dead inside the Tower, would not be enough to stand against her."

He paused, scratching his beard relentlessly.

"Now, wise boy, do you understand the situation?"

Kaden said nothing. Completely silent, as the full shape of the Quest laid itself out inside his mind.

If he wanted to save Rea, he would finish the Tower. And that would undoubtedly kill every tribesman in the process, because Pandora would be fully unleashed.

And yet choosing not to finish the Tower meant accepting the possibility of Rea becoming someone else entirely. Something else.

’Either way, the tribesmen die. Fast or slow. But death is death.’

So why should he care?

And yet Kaden could not make himself doom everyone in this tribe so easily. He closed his eyes, tilted his head back, and asked with a voice that had nothing left in it.

"What do you want from me?"

"Oh, it’s quite simple actually." Historian said, scratching harder. "I think you will be perfect, wise boy."

Kaden’s body stilled. He opened his eyes and looked at the man. "Perfect for what?"

The yellow man grinned wide.

"Perfect to meet the second stranger who came into this tribe alongside Vainglory."

Kaden sat up straight immediately, his body aching with the effort.

"Ah, maybe you look a bit like him too." Historian breathed, eyes distant for a moment. "Oh my... yes. It is time you met the Wise Stranger, wise boy."

—End of Chapter 476—