Arknights: The Holy Son's Leisurely Life — Chapter 88

Chapter 88: Dating the Demon King Makes Her Blush!

According to Warfarin, the Sarkaz were a race that passed down their ancient heritage directly through Originium.

When a Sarkaz died, their physical body sank into the earth, and their spirit merged with the surrounding air. Ultimately, they returned to the world in the form of Originium. This entire world was saturated with the crystalline mineral, and within those jagged stones rested the ancestral memories of the Sarkaz race. The purer the bloodline of an ancient Sarkaz, the more deeply they could attune to this Originium, allowing them to cast their unique, devastating sorcery. It was as if they were directly borrowing the raw power of their forebears, or perhaps the spirits of their ancestors were actively shielding them from beyond the grave.

Warfarin crossed her arms, her tone taking on a clinical detachment. “Because of this phenomenon, the Sarkaz place immense faith in prophecy. The whispers of our ancestors have always emphasized the absolute correctness of these predictions. As for the so-called Demon King… while the title sounds terrifying on paper, I suspect it is merely a Sarkaz who inherited those ancestral memories and power more completely through some highly specialized method. I despise mysticism and unscientific rumors, so I have never bothered to involve myself in it.”

She spoke with a refreshing, grounded freedom that suited Lucian perfectly.

Lucian also hated mystical nonsense. The mere revelation that Originium contained the lingering memories of the deceased had already shaken his worldview enough for one day.

He frowned deeply, piecing the lore together. “A Demon King wearing a black crown, destined to enslave all races. Meanwhile, the Sankta preach about a Holy Child wearing a white crown, destined to preside over the final judgment. Those two legends are a little too perfectly mirrored, are they not?”

“I share that exact sentiment.” Warfarin nodded in agreement. “It is precisely why I never bought into the Sankta’s religious claims in the past. From the perspective of a Sarkaz who actually inherits ancestral memories, the Sankta look like a flock of imposters who plagiarized our Demon King prophecy. They simply flipped the script to create a contradictory myth just to deceive the masses… Ah, was that too harsh?”

Lucian gave her an enthusiastic thumbs up. “No, no, hit harder. I am thoroughly enjoying this.”

He had not heard such a beautifully materialistic viewpoint in a long time. It was incredibly refreshing to hear someone break down ancient holy wars into basic logic. As qualified modern people, they needed to view these problems dialectically. Even if a Holy Child truly existed, it had to be the result of a special, biological physique with a scientific explanation. Feudal superstitions had no place here.

His favorability toward Warfarin skyrocketed in an instant. He was practically infatuated with this highly logical, materialistic Blood Demon.

Warfarin let out a heavy sigh, her red eyes locking onto him. “But then, you appeared. A Sankta whose very blood can neutralize Originium upon contact. Does that not perfectly validate their ancient myth? I can completely understand why the Sankta are in such a frenzy right now. Your existence, Lucian, proves that their long-held, fanatical beliefs were correct all along.”

“Please do not remind me. It is not like I asked for this burden.” Lucian rubbed his temples, genuinely troubled by the reality of his situation.

He could not magically change his physique. If he truly possessed the cure for Oripathy flowing through his veins, would anyone in their right mind want to trade places with him? The target on his back was massive.

Pushing his own problems aside, Lucian found himself far more curious about the mechanics of the Sarkaz legend. “You mentioned that the Demon King is essentially a lineage that passes down memories and power through a specific method, with Originium acting as the core medium. Could that inheritance process itself simply be a highly specialized form of Originium Arts?”

Warfarin’s eyes lit up with genuine scientific intrigue. “Oh. What a fascinating angle, Holy Child-kun.”

Lucian cringes. “Do not call me that. It gives me goosebumps.”

He quickly elaborated on his theory. “I have long suspected that the Sankta’s halos and wings might also be a type of innate Originium Arts. From the moment a Sankta speaks their first meaningful word, their halo and wings manifest. I have always been highly skeptical of that biological phenomenon.”

Halos and wings hovered in the air, completely disconnected from the physical body. They did not function like natural organs that a normal biological organism could evolve over time., Sankta infants were not born with them. The glowing constructs only awakened after the child began to comprehend language and speak.

Lucian laid out his grand hypothesis. Was language itself acting as a catalyst for a specific Originium Art? If ancient Sarkaz could inherit memories via ambient Originium energy from birth, could the Sankta activate a dormant Originium Art through their first spoken words, generating their halos and wings?

Taking it a step further, could the entire foundation of the Sankta faith, the creation of their unbreakable, mind-altering doctrines, be a massive, self-sustaining Originium Art cast upon the entire race?

A cold dread crept up Lucian’s spine at the thought.

Warfarin listened intently, her expression growing serious as she nodded. “It is entirely plausible. I struggle to imagine the mechanics of an Originium Art capable of controlling an entire race across generations, but the Sarkaz memory inheritance is equally unscientific. Why do only those with potent bloodlines react to the ancestral whispers? That, too, could easily be an innate Originium Art.”

Lucian clapped his hands together. “So, the Sankta and the Sarkaz, the Angels and the Demon Race… perhaps their earliest ancestors simply engineered descendant races using their respective, highly specialized Originium Arts. That explains why the blood feud runs so deep.”

On one side stood the Sankta. On the other stood the Demon Race.

On one side was the Holy Child. On the other was the Demon King.

Both races were eagerly awaiting a powerful savior to emerge from their own kind, desperate to achieve total conquest through so-called divine judgment or absolute enslavement.

This discussion was a massive breakthrough for Lucian. A wave of pure enlightenment washed over him. He had spent countless hours agonizing over how to find a peaceful resolution to the eternal conflict between the Sankta and the Demon Race. He never expected that a casual chat with Warfarin, a fiercely scientific Blood Demon, would advance his strategic planning this far.

His eyes gleamed with unchecked excitement. He stepped forward, closing the distance in an instant, and firmly grabbed Warfarin by the shoulders.

“Thank you, Fafaline. It is so good to have you around. I truly regret not meeting you sooner.”

Warfarin panicked, her composure shattering instantly. “W-wait, wait, wait. Do not get so close. Your scent is making me dizzy… And what is a Fafaline? My name is Wa-r-fa-rin.”

The sight of the usually clinical Blood Demon pouting and stammering was super cute. Lucian felt a deep pang of regret for previously ranking her on the same level as Croissant. It was a grave insult to her charm. He quickly adjusted his mental tier list, elevating Warfarin to the exact same level as Texas, placing her comfortably above Exusiai and a certain two-faced, scummy woman.

Lucian maintained his grip, his expression turning dead serious. “Jokes aside, thank you truly. Thanks to this conversation, I finally know exactly what I need to do. If the Sankta and the Demon Race successfully reconcile in the future, half the credit for saving the world will belong to you.”

Warfarin trembled under his intense gaze. “As expected of the Holy Child… are you genuinely plotting something of that magnitude? Resolving a blood feud between two entire races… I never even considered such a possibility.”

She stared at him, a deep sense of awe cutting through her flustered state. This man truly lived up to his mythical title. An ordinary person born with Lucian’s absolute authority and power would have instantly succumbed to arrogance. They would have flaunted their status, indulging in the pleasures of standing above all mortals.

But Lucian harbored no such tyrannical desires. Even with the devastating authority he was born with, he never viewed it as something he inherently deserved. Instead, he constantly pondered how to best use his terrifying talents to fix a broken world.

Warfarin had lived for a very long time, and she knew a noble soul when she saw one. His character was a far more outstanding trait than his bloodline or his power.

…And, he smelled so incredibly good.

The heavy, intoxicating scent of his blood washed over her again. Warfarin swayed on her feet, her rationality rapidly plummeting toward zero as the dizzying haze took hold.

Fighting through the intoxicating fog of his charm, she managed to force out a question. “W-what exactly do you intend to do? Are you going to assassinate the Demon King and conquer the Sarkaz by force?”

Lucian dropped his hands from her shoulders, looking at her with a completely baffled expression. “What? Why would I do that?”

He looked at her as if she had just suggested something entirely absurd. “You Sarkaz have never even been a unified front. You have been fractured for nearly a millennium, and your recent civil war has dragged on for almost a century. If this Demon King were truly that dominant, Kazdel would have united and conquered the continent ages ago.”

Warfarin clutched her aching chest, her pride taking a critical hit. “Guh. I have absolutely no counterargument for that…”

Lucian was a pragmatist. Even as the genuine Holy Child, he knew that forcing a twisted peace would end in disaster. Even the fanatical Sankta would secretly manufacture weapons of mass slaughter behind his back to deal with the Sarkaz the moment he looked away. If he used his divine authority to purge the extremists and forcefully ordered the two races to hold hands, that distorted peace would shatter at the slightest spark.

He needed a highly stable, permanent situation that both races would willingly accept.

“If the Demon King is truly that powerful, she should be capable of unifying the Sarkaz. She does not even need to conquer all the scattered factions. Just reunifying Kazdel, the true country of the Demon Race, would give her enough political legitimacy.”

Lucian clenched his fist, his eyes burning with absolute, unwavering determination. “Then, my path is clear. I am going to date the Demon King and make her blush.”

He nodded to himself, entirely confident in his master plan. “Once our two races are united through marriage, the root of the problem will be completely eradicated.”

Warfarin stared blankly at Lucian.

The silence stretched between them for a long, heavy moment.

She genuinely understood a deep truth right then and there.

This Holy Child was a complete idiot.