The Regressor and the Blind Saint
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༺ Prologue ༻

I lived for myself.

I had the talent, so I chose to live that way.

Born in the slums as a worthless beggar, I used a talent that was awakened by chance to exploit its lowlifes.

It was because I didn’t want to starve to death.

So, I devoured and exploited all the cartels that ruled the slums.

It was to get a warm house that would keep out the cold winter breeze.

In the flames of a war that engulfed the continent, I made a vile deal with the nobles, satisfying their lowly desires.

It was because I wanted the money they had.

When the Demon King finally descended upon this world, I hid myself in the depths of darkness beyond his reach and waited for the Heroes to defeat the Demon King.

Thus, I was able to continue this miserable life.

This life made possible by the talent that was bestowed upon me—that absurd miracle.

It was a life in which I trampled on countless lives, but I never felt guilty. The life I had barely attained tasted so sweet that I couldn’t take my eyes off it.

So I didn’t want to be understood.

I didn’t even want salvation.

I swore to myself that even if I were to meet a miserable end,

I would accept it with a smile.

I swore I would gladly pay the price for all the sins I’ve committed in my life.

That’s why.

“Are you awake?”

At the end of my life, I thought there would be no one left by my side.