Against The True Gods-Chapter 142: Luck

Caine’s and Mirror’s gazes remained locked, their shared indifference reflecting off one another, amplifying the silence that filled the platform.

Suddenly, Mirror’s body exploded in a rain of golden threads and ashes as his last life was stripped away, marking his humiliating defeat.

Throughout their entire exchange, neither had spoken a word, as if silently agreeing to let the game play out in silence. Even as Mirror faded away, his expression remained stoic, quiet, and indifferent.

Caine paid it no mind, his thoughts drifting elsewhere.

’It’s quite sad, but I suppose this, in a sense, crystallizes all I’ve lived for. All I’ve ever worked for.’

Caine had reached this point because he despised his lack of control. He hated being reduced to a pawn, moved at the whim of another.

His disdain was so profound that even as he killed himself, the possibility of it all being for nothing hadn’t fazed him.

To him, death was a better fate than remaining in the Three Realms as a slave to some higher entity, a pawn used only for observation and manipulation.

Even thinking about it made his guts churn and his True Will recoil in disgust.

Yet, here he was once again, confronted by the undeniable truth: the reality of the Three Realms hadn’t changed.

The weak remained nothing more than cogs in a machine, endlessly controlled by the powerful, and the world itself remained a tool, loyal and subservient to those who held dominion over it.

A perverted world, governed by inhumane entities.

It was still the same hell he thought he’d escaped—a world where all were born chained and controlled, forced to follow the whims of those who viewed them as nothing more than cattle.

’Fate, Destiny, Karma, Totality, and now, Luck,’ he thought as his gaze turned to the chessboard before him.

’It’s all so cruel. So cruel and heartless.’

He sighed, his hands moving idly across the board, rearranging the pieces.

’Fate dictates the world’s flow, its circumstances and paths. Destiny chooses who walks those paths. Karma defines the weight and direction of one’s steps, while Totality sits above and below it all, looming like the immutable will of the heavens.’

’And Luck… Luck dictates the odds. The likelihood of the pendulum swinging left or right.’

’And then there are those above, playing across the board. The ones beyond.’

’Gods, Immortals, Demons, Emperors… the powerful.’

These thoughts flowed through his mind like water through a river, smooth and unfettered. Stay connected through novelbuddy

The sharpness of his gaze dulled, softening into a void of abyssal depths—distant, unreadable.

His eyes, once an inferno of passion, now seemed like an endless well of… pity.

’And then, there’s us. Mortals. To be born so chained, so encased, truly makes you wonder what the point of it all is. What purpose it serves.’

’Are so-called Defiers merely favored sons? Or is there truly a path to salvation… to freedom… to control?’

His gaze wandered upward, fixing on the dark, starless skies above. A faint, bitter smile curved his lips.

’The message is threefold—Luck, Pride, and Possibility.’

’My luck allowed me to overcome these trials because Fate willed it so. I am not worthy. I am lucky.’

’But the essence of it all was the destruction of my pride and sense of self. To make me understand my insignificance, my weakness, my stupidity, my… mortality.’

’Almost as if it were a sick, twisted attempt to see whether I’d crumble or fall under the weight of such comprehension.’

Caine understood how Fate worked, and that understanding could be summarized in one simple truth: Fate cannot be understood.

He had been placed in circumstances designed to crush and destroy him, yet given the tools to overcome those challenges.

It was nonsensical, heartless, and cruel. But wasn’t that the very essence of Fate?

’Above it all, it’s a reminder. A reminder that, had I not been chosen, this path of freedom and control I walk upon now could have been stripped away. I could have been on the receiving end of it all.’

’Without this crown handed to me, I have no control. And without control, I am just another cog, another tool like the rest.’

He chuckled softly, shaking his head in slight disbelief.

’It’s almost like it’s asking me to be grateful for being given a chance.’

None of this fazed Caine in the least. To him, it was nothing more than a rowdy child pouting and throwing a tantrum.

Regardless, the throne would be his. Just as Fate worked, his rise to its throne and crown was inevitable.

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When its reins were his to control, and his hands dictated the sways of the almighty river of Fate, would any of it matter?

It was only a matter of time.

WHOOOSH!

Across from him, where Mirror had once sat, yet another figure began to take shape. But unlike before, this figure materialized instantly, and with it came a terrifying wave of power.

A sweep of ancient and tempered True Will followed, so potent the air twisted and tore into chaotic storms that ravaged the space around them.

The man sat across from Caine was shrouded in an ethereal golden aura, but from what little Caine could see, he was the picture of angelic perfection.

Long, curly white hair framed a flawless face, his eyes glowing with an otherworldly golden and white light that overflowed like mist into the world.

Wide, airy black robes draped over his tall yet relatively frail frame, enhancing the pure, holy aura of his existence, as if he were an angel fallen from the heavens.

Ancient runic tattoos of gold and black danced across his healthy beige-white skin, moving like a living script.

Despite his unassuming appearance, the man exuded terrifying power, his presence all-encompassing and unshakable.

A wave of golden aura spread outward, filling the space with his dominance as his True Will thundered and loomed like a colossal shadow.

Above his head hovered a bloody halo and a cracked, shattered crown. The former spun slowly, while the latter flickered in and out of existence.

Future Caine’s gaze roamed curiously, tinged with slight confusion, before he nodded to himself as if piecing things together.

He turned to Caine, his amusement clear in the way his lips curved into a faint smile.

"How strange. I’d forgotten this moment would occur."

His voice was light, warm, almost angelic, yet carried an inhuman weight—like the distorted echo of a god’s voice confined to mortal flesh.

Caine remained silent, his gaze narrowed.

Oldest had been him, pulled from the past.

Mirror had been a perfect, mastered version of him.

But this… Caine immediately saw through it.

Like Oldest, this was truly him. But it was only a possibility.

It was one among many paths he could take.

A version of himself who had given up—or perhaps lost—everything, choosing to walk a path wholly reliant on Fate.

A path where, instead of wearing Fate’s crown, he became its apostle.

A path of subservience.