Rogue Villain-Chapter 402: Peace

Ackster wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but the fact that he regained consciousness, even if he could only sense that he existed in a colorless void, meant that he was going to recover. It might take half an eternity. But he was alive.

Or he was dead and in the afterlife.

However, the pain tearing through whatever was left of his existence spoke of him being alive. It carried a certain pettiness in it that the pain Ackster felt usually did when it was his fault. So, it most likely wasn’t Hell.

Ackster tried to get a grasp on his surroundings or his state, but he could barely think, and it didn’t take long before his mind returned to slumber to try and let his soul and core recover.

The next time Ackster woke up, if he could even call it that, his sense of self felt slightly more stable. But that wasn’t a relief. Since he could sense his condition more than before, he knew how close he was to dying still.

His life hung by a thread, and his existence as Ackster, who went on to save the world after smashing a poison goblin to a pulp with his bare hands, was about to fade.

The only time Ackster had been this close to dying was when Trana gave him the blue sun. But even then, Ackster had just needed to get through the worst before he would inevitably recover since he could still rely on his recovery skills.

Now, since he had used Limitless on Stubborn Well-Being to keep his body intact while using limitless strength, he could only rely on the gravity of his soul to pull himself together and recover in time.

Ackster lost consciousness again, not knowing whether he would wake up again.

Fortunately, he did. But his state hadn’t improved. He was the same as before—in tatters.

Ackster wasn’t sure what to do to improve his condition. There was nothing he could do.

But at the same time, aside from the pain that broke through even his Pain Tolerance, Ackster hadn’t felt this much peace since before his transmigration.

Ackster slowly realized that he hadn’t existed before what he knew as his transmigration. According to the Observer, the cosmic being had created him for this specific purpose.

Ackster wasn’t even sure how he had managed to defeat a being that could rewind time or create life, but there were many things he didn’t know. Besides, if he had failed, he wouldn’t be alive. There was no meaning in wondering how it happened. He should just be satisfied with the fact that it had happened.

And he should enjoy his hard-earned peace. He had fought tooth and nail for it for ten years and technically died at least twice. Ackster had earned it. So, he closed his imaginary eyes and went back to sleep.

Before he could really enjoy his freedom and peace, he had to recover first and escape the pain and injuries wracking his body.

The next time Ackster woke up, he could sense that he had improved. He could also sense how that had happened. That insight once again made him realize the extent of his injuries even further.

The cracks that almost ran straight through his core had started recovering. He wasn’t sure how or why, but it was getting better.

Ackster fell asleep again.

When he awoke again, he could finally tell something about his surroundings. It was hot. It could also be that he had suffered severe damage to his senses, and it was something like phantom pain. But Ackster didn’t think so. He was used to heat. Fire was as much a part of him as water was by now. He wasn’t mistaken.

After defeating the Observer, he had ended up inside a furnace of some kind.

But Ackster didn’t mind. The heat was cozy, and he snuggled up and went right back to sleep without bothering about the details of anything. He wasn’t worried about the rest of the world, his comrades, or what was happening outside.

He had done too much to be worried about that. If things didn’t sort themselves out after all that he had done, they didn’t deserve his salvation.

He ignored the possibility of the ones he treasured ending up dead in the aftermath. Even considering that option and eventually upsetting himself could risk Ackster’s recovery.

And Ackster was past taking unnecessary risks.

He had taken risks since that would help him grow stronger. But now that there weren’t any threats looming on the horizon, Ackster didn’t have to take those risks to get stronger anymore. If he wanted to continue his journey of strength, he could just leisurely take his time and train his mana or nurture his Ichor.

Like so, Ackster continued sleeping and waking. But even when he was awake, he was in a state where he couldn’t hear, see, touch, or interact with anything. He maintained his consciousness in a small part of his soul that was intact enough to withstand the weight of his thoughts.

Occasionally, his condition would worsen when he woke up. Other times, it would improve. It took time.

Ackster couldn’t sense the passing of time, but he knew it was a slow process, this recovery of his. What a blessing it was not to have any deadlines or pressing matters to attend to. He could take it easy and relax in this warm and cozy bed of his.

Sometimes, Ackster got the impression that there was movement around him. But he ignored it. If it was a threat, he would have died already.

However, after recovering to the point where his core was almost intact, and Ackster could theoretically recreate his body, everything became incredibly noisy. It was like the world had turned into an alarm clock.

Ackster had held off on waking up since he wanted to continue sleeping. It was the first time in his life, literally, that he could sleep in. He would be a fool if he didn’t take advantage of it.

Unfortunately, it seemed like the world had other plans.

For some reason, Ackster could also hear vague cries of distress.

<Urgh.>