I've removed the tag 'original' cause, as stated by others, the setting is clearly based of the web novel 'The Lazy King' (hell, even the title is synonymous because I suck at making up titles), though I do not intend for it to become a fanfic, but something else entirely.

I might change the title, if I find something better. Though I doubt it.

P.S: Read 'The Lazy King', highly recommended, extremely enjoyable.

P.P.S: Thanks to those that like the story. From the bottom of my heart, I appreciate it.

Enjoy!

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After I knocked her out, I decided to fix her.

It wasn’t hard, really. Just pump her full of magic, remove the various harmful seals and get those metal and enchanted pieces out of her. Then it’ll fix itself. The body knows how to.

Also, I forced her to drink and eat something I literally conjured up. She was thoroughly malnourished and dehydrated, so it was absolutely necessary.

Even her skin fixed itself by shedding the patchwork skin so crudely attached. It looked disgusting, seeing a person shed its skin so unnaturally, yet it was necessary.

But I fear it’ll be for naught.

I know what those enchanted metal pieces in her brain did. They not only enslaved her, but also forced her that she ‘willingly’ served, probably the only reason why she stayed ‘sane’.

It forced her to live.

Those pieces in her brain tempered with her idea of ‘purpose’, making her think that her life is good or will get better over time.

And I removed those. So, once she wakes up, she’ll be in perfect control of mind and body.

And then probably break down.

Nothing can experience something like this and still be able to proudly say “I want to live!”

I know I didn’t.

After I got tortured by my long life, I tried to give it up. After I failed to stop living, I instead gave up my soul, basically becoming a living shell.

Luckily, I was saved by the people and my wife. But how long did that take? A million years? 10 million? A 100 million? All that time stuck in a cave, lifelessly staring at the sealing, unthinking and unfeeling. A horrible experience.

So the possibility she gets saved like I was during the little sixty years of a mortals life, is basically non-existent, unless she is incredibly lucky.

Which she clearly isn’t.

And I can’t save her. Why?

I who, despite being saved once, still think life is meaningless, could never save someone else. Not without saving myself.

I could grant her immortality though. Although time destroys everything, it also heals all wounds.

And with immortality, the odds of her getting saved like me, increases infinitely.

But what is the price?

A million years of suffering for a thousand years of happiness, like I had? If I could choose whether to die or live through such a cycle of large suffering and small happiness, my choice is easily death.

But, I’m me and she’s she.

So giving her a choice would be best. I’ll need to wait until she wakes up though, so let’s rest a little. For the first time perhaps, I believe I deserve it.

……

A loud shrieking and wild flailing woke me up. It sounded horrifying, but at least she was now healthy, unlike before.

I went to sleep right next to her, so I was immediately deafened and hit when she woke up.

I did dress us both in some easy wear before going to sleep though, hoping in vain that it would, at least, spare me some harm.

It was clearly in vain. What did I expect? For her to be reasonable when she woke?

She’s forced to view her memories through a new light. Not as something sensible or filled with purpose, as she did in her altered state of mind.

No, she now relives it as a sane person would. A disgusting act so vile, so full of horrors she should have forgotten it in shock, but is forced to remember it.

She’s stomping around, frantically looking for something that wasn’t there, and wildly flailing her arms around. Sometimes, she staggered and fell dawn, silently crying only to stand up and repeat the process again and again.

This continued for three, from morning to noon.

I could’ve forced her to calm down, but she needed to know what truly happened to her before making her decision. Cruel, sure, but I believe it is necessary to understand what happened for her to make the best decision.

When she stopped her insane ramblings and her wild flailing and shrieking, she lay flat on her back, exhausted and silently shedding tears. I approached her again.

From the corner of her eye, I knew she fearfully watched me approach and desperately wanted to run, but she was too exhausted.

Before I sat down next to her, I heard her silently say it, almost as if whispering a prayer:

“Please…” she said, begging for help with her pleading eyes.

“Please, what?” I said. This was it, what will she wish for? Death? Life? Amnesia? Or something different?

“Please…. Sir?”

No, that wasn’t what I meant. I should’ve just said it directly.

“What do you wish?”

Her eyes opened wide surprise, stopping her seemingly infinite stream of tears. It was probably the first time someone said something like this to her, the first time someone actually asked what she wanted.

“God?” she looked zealously and full of hope into my eyes, as if her prayers were answered in the form of me. I found it strange she could still look like that and believe in me, after experiencing such horrors.

Sure, I still believe in God, but that’s more because I have no idea what created me. I never had a mom or dad, as far as I know, and lived before everything else existed. So who created me? So I either just became, or it was God. I chose the latter, thinking it made more sense.

So, let’s just go with it. I’m sure God won’t care. He never did care for anything.

“…Sure. What do you wish?”

Her fervent gaze retracted and she started to think more deeply, her face growing ever darker the longer she was in thought. She even began to shake, remembering what happened to her, although I don’t know if it was in anger, or in fear.

Truly, I’m very surprised how this is going. Is she really still sane? How is she able to think so thoroughly, after experienced what she had? She was tortured, harmed beyond belief, damaged beyond what anything would be capable of withstanding, yet she didn’t look like the lifeless doll I expected her to become.

Unlike me, who gave up, she was clearly alive, visible by her reaction to my words.

Why? Did shock make her forget? Is it revenge? Has she actually gone mad, hidden only behind a thin veil of humanity? Or is she just that strong? Or is it just that I was, no, am that weak? She makes me start doubting myself. Has she found something I could not?

While deeply in thought myself, she suddenly spoke up.

“Power…” she said softly, as if trying not to upset me. Very understandable, when God grants you a wish out of sympathy and then ask for power, is rather shameless.

But I don’t care. She’s still human after all, or, at least, something alike. After someone was so powerless for so long, anyone would wish for power for his or her own.

Still, I am very surprised. Unlike others wishing for power, she went through much, much more than anyone had the right to live through.

And I’ll say it again and again until it starts to make sense, but she should have become lifeless, or at least suicidal. Where does she find the will to live?

Perhaps she truly believed she found God, giving sympathy to the suffering and suffering to the sufferers.

It was something I never found, except for my wife, but I still never idolized her, not the way she’s doing.

Or, she could really have found meaning in her own life, something I never could, no matter how long I lived.

I choose to believe the latter.

It makes me feel better about myself.

“Very well.” I said, seeing her visibly lighting up. But before she could say something, I teleported her away, out of the desert, in front of some city I found when I arrived her and scanned the region.

When I teleported her, I attached something to her soul. You could almost say it was a small device, but it is not visible, nor accessible by anyone but me. It was something like a string, connecting me and her, giving her full access to my power.

And giving me her location whenever I want to find her.

I want to know what she’ll do, and if she succeeds where I failed.

I want her to find meaning of in her life.

And then claim it for my own.