Reincarnated As The Villainess's Son-Chapter 527: Fate and Projection [2]

’Well, let’s try this out.’

Fate, as I understood, was dependent on worlds and yet at the same time independent of everything.

If the four worlds it was bound with got destroyed, then the river of fate would be scattered all around.

But it didn’t mean fate would cease to exist.

Just like that, my projections that were made of fate strings would remain present even if I was not there.

They would still drain my mana and get stronger on their own.

’....But what if I can use that strength for my benefit?’

"Are you sure, my Lord?"

Stretching my body, I looked at Arawn who stood on the opposite side of the garden.

"Yes, don’t worry about me." I said, jerking my head slightly. "Use fifty percent of your strength."

"But, I am a demigod at my peak." He said, frowning his brows. "My attack isn’t something you can—."

"Arawn." I cut him off, standing still. "Did I ask your opinion?"

He went silent and then lowered his body slightly, getting into position.

"...As you command," he said at last, lowering his head.

He stepped back a few paces, placing one hand over his chest.

The ground beneath him cracked as he gathered his strength.

Thinking quickly, I placed a barrier of void around us to minimize the damage.

Inside, I could already feel the projections responding.

Beyond time and beyond space, the four figures made of fate strings reacted to my intent.

The figures of fate, invisible to all, crossed the barrier.

I blinked and felt four different figures overlapping my body like a veil.

’If this works...’

Arawn raised his arm.

Golden-black light wrapped around his forearm, dense and compressed, like a star being forced into shape.

"fifty percent," he said again, almost as a warning.

A split second later, his attack crossed the garden without any sound.

The moment it touched me, my vision fractured layer by layer.

I felt my body take the hit... and at the same time, I felt something else respond.

The strings of fate subtracted the strength from the attack by a fourth.

The rest of the impact tore through my chest, pain blooming sharply.

I slid back a single step, boots carving a shallow line into the stone.

"My Lord—!"

I raised a hand, stopping him.

"...Hah."

I smiled faintly.

"It works."

Arawn cautiously walked toward me with a concerned look. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah." I replied, removing the barrier. "I am fine."

Arawn looked at me and slowly nodded. "You took my attack head on."

"Sure did." I replied, walking toward the tree. "I think I can go up against mid-level demigods physically without any buffs."

"...You can." He replied. "But a demigod is more than just physical strength."

I nodded my head, knowing full well what he meant.

Anyway, given that I could more or less use fate in a fight was good news.

’Though, I would love to use fate like Sabaoth.’

Hmm...

Come to think of it, how did Sabaoth get the power of Fate?

I turned to look at Arawn who stood by my side.

Did he know about it?

"Arawn." I called. "How much do you know about Sabaoth?"

"What do you want to know?" He asked.

"What was Sabaoth’s relationship with Azrael?" I asked, leaning against the tree. "How were they?"

Arawn thought for a moment before answering.

"Sabaoth hated Azrael." He replied. "Mostly because of Lady Anastasia."

"...Ah, right."

Sabaoth did have a thing for her.

"But is that all?"

Arawn shook his head as he kept his gaze low.

"He wanted to create a new-age Avatar of all Primordial Gods." He said, his voice low. "Someone who could be used as a weapon."

My interest grew as I looked at him more seriously. "And the other Primordial Gods agreed?"

"No." He replied, shaking his head. "All of them were against the idea."

I raised an eyebrow. "But."

"But they did come forward to make someone with the characteristics of an Avatar of all."

He replied, his gaze back on me like he wanted me to guess.

"....Adam." I mumbled softly.

Arawn nodded once. "Yes. Adam and Eve."

"Eve?" I tilted my head as I looked at him.

"It’s a long story." He said with a sigh. "...Just know she lost her prestige later on."

"...."

Well, it did make sense then.

Adam was by far the strongest mortal. It could only be possible if the gods had made him themselves.

’...But was that all?’

I was pretty sure the Primordial Evils must have tried something like that as well.

"Himmel!"

Before I could ask more, I heard a voice calling me.

Turning around, I found Elijah rushing toward me with a concerned look.

I turned fully toward him. "What happened?"

He stopped in front of me, his eyes tired.

"...It’s Amaury." He said, his voice low.

The face of the orange-haired werewolf boy flashed past my eyes, making my expression serious.

"...What did he do?" I asked softly.

"He...betrayed his kingdom." He replied. "Amaury killed the werewolf king."

---

[A Few Hours Earlier.]

[Vendrick Continent, Home of Werewolves.]

What did a broken mind do to a man?

What did loneliness and rejection do to a man?

Amaury stood in the center of the throne hall, his hands trembling.

Blood soaked the stone beneath his feet.

The body of the werewolf king lay before him, eyes wide open, frozen in disbelief.

His crown had rolled away, resting near the steps of the throne.

Amaury stared at the king with nothing but emptiness.

"I didn’t want this," he whispered. "I really didn’t."

The hall was silent.

The nobles were gone. The guards were either dead or too afraid to move.

Only the sound of dripping blood echoed in the vast space.

All his life, Amaury had been told he was different.

Even among his own kind, he had never belonged.

He had always been better than everyone else.

He was someone who was destined to be someone great.

He clenched his fists.

"I tried," he muttered. "I tried to serve and I tried to obey."

His claws extended without him noticing, digging into his palms.

"But no matter what I did... it was never enough."

He looked down at the king’s corpse again.

"You would have killed me anyway," Amaury said. "You decided that the moment I was born."

He slapped the dead body of the king, making it fall like a broken doll.

Amaury now stared at the blood-soaked throne with a blank expression.

The seat that ruled the werewolves for generations now looked small.

Fragile.

He took a slow step forward, then another, until he stood before it.

"So this is it..." he muttered.

Once, he had imagined sitting on that throne. Not out of greed, but out of hope.

Hope of winning "her" over with his own strength.

"I was an idiot."

Sighing in his defeat, he slowly sat down on the blood-soaked throne.

Leaning against it, he closed his eyes... relishing the feeling.

For a long while, he remained like that, forgetting all that had happened.

But his eyes slowly opened as he looked forward.

At the end of the empty hallway, a man stood silently like a statue.

Suppressing most of the elites of the kingdom, he was the one who had helped Amaury.

He wore a long dark coat that brushed the floor, his silver hair tied loosely behind his back.

His presence felt ordinary.

"Why are you still here?" Amaury asked, staring at the man.

"Just to make sure you will keep your end of the deal." The man replied, his voice quiet and feminine. "I can’t have you go back on your words."

"...I never planned to do such a thing." Amaury replied reluctantly. "I will do your bidding as soon as I have the kingdom under control."

The man said nothing and only nodded.

Amaury blinked, and the man was gone. Only his voice remained. "I will always be there to help you."

"...."

Amaury didn’t respond as he sat silently.

To achieve his glory, he had made a deal with the devil. Now, all he could do was move like a pawn.

He was back on the path that led to the destruction of the werewolves in the game.

Though Amaury had no problem watching the world burn.

---

[Imladris, Akasha.]

In the empty house of the long-lost elven family, a woman stood outside her window.

She looked at the beautiful golden tree known as Nuaria that refined the mana of Akasha.

Her office remained neat and clean, unlike the turbulent thoughts in her mind.

Mariam kept staring at the tree, her hand patting the back of the girl who slept in her arms.

The girl slept sweetly with her arms around Mariam.

She was the daughter of the late Wilhelm, Izara, whom Mariam had been taking care of for a while.

She had taken her away from Elijah some time ago to raise her.

Mariam let out a slow breath, careful not to wake the child.

Her gaze lingered on the golden tree, which looked much different than she remembered.

Nuaria, as everyone could see, had lost much of its previous luster.

It had gone dull and old, and it showed in the quality of the air.

With a slight knock, the door to her office opened and her assistant Diana walked inside.

"...The results are here, my lady." Diana said gently, not wanting to wake the child. "You were correct...the mana of Akasha has gone down significantly."

Mariam closed her eyes for a brief moment.

"...So it wasn’t just my imagination," she said quietly.

Diana stepped closer and placed a thin folder on the desk, careful with her movements.

"The decline started slowly. The refinement rate of Nuaria has dropped almost twelve percent."

Mariam opened her eyes and looked at the tree again.

For Akasha, that was catastrophic.

"...That tree has stood since before all of us were born," Mariam murmured. "It shouldn’t be weakening at all."

Izara shifted in her sleep, letting out a small sound.

Mariam instinctively tightened her hold, patting her back until she relaxed again.

Diana hesitated before speaking. "Is something bad going to happen?"

Mariam turned from the window, her expression calm but heavy.

"I don’t know."

Diana lowered her gaze. "...Whom should we inform first?"

"The demigods." Mariam replied firmly. "...And him."

Diana nodded without saying a word.

Mariam slowly closed her eyes as she remained silent.

In her silence, she could hear the sound of a faint heartbeat.

A heartbeat that had been growing increasingly louder over the years.