The halls were pitch black as the Harbinger of Ruin, the Bane of War, stared at the Crown of Grace.
"...Me? Equal to the Great Lord of Shadows?" he repeated.
"No. Never," he denied.
The Crown of Grace tilted his head in confusion and curiosity.
"I could never be an equal to the Might of the Great Lord of Shadows," he said with no hint of resentment toward the man mentioned.
The Crown of Grace did not interrupt.
The Harbinger of Ruin manifested his spear in a dark, blazing mist.
"This weapon... it is the reason I cut through so many of my enemies," he said.
"Had it not been for the killing intent and Death's will in this spear, I could not have weathered having so many enemies," he paused as his grip tightened.
"Unlike the great Lord of Shadows."
He looked at the Crown of Grace.
The man straightened as the air around the Harbinger of Ruin thickened.
"Do you remember the assault on the Great Goddess of War's kingdom?"
The Crown of Grace raised his chin.
"Yes. I do," he said.
That assault on the Great War Kingdom.
While those who sat on their thrones had committed many acts of defiance against the Divine...
Even they did not call that certain act of defiance just any defiance.
"The fabled battle of the War Realm, orchestrated by four mortal men."
The voice came from the Seer of Paths.
No one looked at him.
They didn't need to.
It was one of the rare moments no one pretended to be surprised or interested.
"The great Seer of Paths, the Bane of Nether," the Cursed of Truth said, appearing on his throne.
"The great Harbinger of Ruin, the Bane of War," the Crown of Grace said.
"The great Keeper of Fate, the Heir of Weaver," the Seer of Paths said.
A moment of silence settled as heads turned to one throne.
Images went through their minds.
It was distant.
Ancient.
"We fought tooth and nail and spent nearly three hundred years planning and seventy years preparing," the Seer of Paths said.
"Such was the minimum when orchestrating the destruction of a kingdom that had existed for thousands of years and had been created by a Great God," the Crown of Grace said humorlessly.
"Yet... when the battle came..." the Cursed of Truth stopped.
The Harbinger of Ruin did not take his eyes away from the throne.
"None of us had fought a more harrowing battle than the great Lord of Shadows, the Heir of Shadows."
...
"The Great Lord of Shadows was considered the greatest warrior not only for his battle skills or great battles," he said.
"Across ages, his abilities were acknowledged even by the Great Gods and Daemons despite their hatred of him," the Cursed of Truth said, taking his eyes away.
"The Great Lord of Shadows was not called the greatest warrior to walk across time for mere combat skills," the Crown of Grace said.
"No," the Harbinger of Ruin picked up.
"The great and mighty Lord of Shadows was, and still is, the most skilled man of conflict across all realms," he said.
"A master of deception, a miraculous strategist, a reader of war who broke down and mastered millions of battle arts across centuries. His strategies were great enough to tear through the Great War Empire and reach its heart. He led us to the feet of the Divine."
"A master assassin who managed to somehow launch a sneak attack on the Great God of Shadows inside their own Shadow Realm, as well as the only mortal to reach the heart of the Shadow Realm and come back without his mind shattering into a thousand pieces."
"No one killed more abominations of the Primordial Void than the great Lord of Shadows other than the Great gods themselves."
"The only swordsman to match the Daemon of Destiny and the Great Goddess of War in swordsmanship."
A pause.
The Harbinger of Ruin looked toward the empty throne.
"The Lord of Shadows was not called the greatest warrior for swordsmanship alone. Though few could compare even there."
His fingers rested against the shaft of his spear.
"He mastered assassination, infiltration, deception, battlefield reading, terrain, survival, planning, and the use of nearly every weapon worth learning. He studied battle arts until they stopped being techniques and became principles."
The Crown of Grace listened quietly.
"He was patient enough to plan in decades and disciplined enough to lose a battle if it meant winning the war later. He understood formations, ambushes, sieges, pursuit, retreat, and how to move an enemy without letting them realize they had been led."
The Crown of Grace chuckled lightly. "Yet he tried to never lose a battle unless mortal lives were endangered."
The Seer of Paths leaned back.
"Yet he rarely cared for commanding armies."
"No," the Harbinger said. "He preferred fighting alone."
A pause.
"Or with us."
The hall grew quieter.
"The Keeper of Fate. The Seer of Paths. The Crown of Grace. The Cursed of Truth..."
The Harbinger stopped.
For a moment, no one said anything.
The Cursed of Truth slowly looked at the others.
Then his gaze moved toward the empty throne of the Lord of Shadows and The Keeper of Fate.
He shook his head faintly.
The Harbinger of Ruin continued as though nothing had happened.
"...and myself."
The Crown of Grace said nothing.
Neither did the Seer of Paths.
"That was usually enough," the Harbinger continued. "When mortals needed his aid against enemies beyond them, he helped. But he never wanted them dependent on him. He trained them, armed them, taught them how to survive, and expected them to stand on their own afterward."
The Crown of Grace smiled faintly.
"He never wanted followers."
The Harbinger looked toward the throne once more.
"He was not given mastery. He failed, learned, practiced, bled, and practiced again until knowledge became instinct."
His voice lowered.
"That is why I do not call myself his equal."
He looked at his spear.
"I can be as lethal as the Lord of Shadows on the battlefield only because my spear carries the will and essence of two Great Gods."
He looked upward into the endless height.
"It may be bound to my soul. However, its Rank remained Divine, unlike a normal Soul-Bound weapon that rises with the Rank of the one it is bound to."
He paused as he stared above.
"The great Lord of Shadows, on the other hand? He fought with that blade when it was a Transcendent blade, alongside him, against greater enemies."
The Seer of Paths gave a side glance.
"Soon, he raised that blade to greater heights, until that blade could pierce through the flesh of lesser gods and, eventually, the Great Gods and Daemons."
The Harbinger of Ruin looked toward the Crown of Grace.
"So you see, Crown of Grace, I can never be his equal, for I was feared for my spear and battle powers."
He spoke with respect.
"The mighty Lord of Shadows was feared for his existence."
"During the Doom War, he was one of the few mortals who reached—"
Theior's conversation was cut off as the hero of the Weavers appeared in the hall.
He looked at everyone, and they all couldn't help but keep gentle smiles behind their masks.
The man sat down.
"How wonderful. If the great Lord of Shadows were here, we would all be together at the same moment," he said gently.
"How wonderful would that be?" he said fondly as he looked up.
The others looked at him for a moment.
The Crown of Grace smiled softly.
The Seer of Paths leaned back, relaxing.
The Cursed of Truth leaned to one side calmly.
The Harbinger of Ruin looked at the man calmly before nodding once.
If the Lord of Shadows was here, he too would have calmed in a gentler manner.
Such was the presence of the great Keeper of Fate to all of them.
He did not need power to calm them. He commanded both respect and earned their fondness.
"We were talking about the great Lord of Shadows," the Crown of Grace said.
The Heir of Weaver looked at him.
"Ahh, the great Lord of Shadows? Were you relating one of his great tales, oh great Crown of Grace?"
The man shook his head.
"No, not today. We were merely retelling his greatest feats and why he is the greatest warrior across all time," the Crown of Grace said.
The Heir of Weaver turned to him.
"Ahh, but the reasons are too many, are they not?" he said as he looked at everyone.
"The tales of the great Lord of Shadows and the many battles he fought can be considered unknown. Rarely did he ever fight something below or equal to him, always climbing higher, doing one thing or another."
Someone sighed, making the Heir of Weaver chuckle faintly.
"Was it when he fought the Daemon of Imagination? Or when he stabbed the Storm Goddess?" he asked.
"No," the Seer of Paths answered.
However, his voice dropped to a slightly serious one.
"We were talking about the assault on the Great War Empire," he said.
The Heir of Weaver looked at him as his chin lifted.
"Ahh, that one, huh?" he said. "Didn't exactly end as we had wished, but the results were fine regardless."
"Well, we accounted for how to escape the Great Goddess of War, not two Great Gods and a Daemon," the Seer of Paths said.
The Keeper of Fate smiled and leaned back as he looked up.
"The great Lord of Shadows..."
"He showed to the realms why he could not be rivaled by anyone but the Great Gods and Daemons that battle," the Harbinger of Ruin finished.
!!!
The air thickened as all fell into the same memory.
...
The Golden Age was nearly at its end.
The Doom War was being orchestrated.
Merely centuries before the Daemons opposed the Great Gods.
Four mortal Supremes had decided they needed to weaken many forces.
The Supremes worked for ages and spent decades preparing in their own ways until the time came.
It was a glorious sight as the Great War Empire hosted its once-in-a-century event.
The Great Goddess of War herself would come to see the final battle and bless the champion among champions with a gift of their choosing.
However...
The event had been ruined on the very first day.
"AGH!"
A roar came as the Supreme Devil roared forward.
Hordes of Transcendents were running into the arena as Transcendent warriors poured into the battlefield, accompanied by more Supreme and Transcendent creatures.
The creatures were such beings who possessed no Aspects but could rise in Rank and Class.
Such beings went extinct by the end of the Doom War.
They were called—
The Noble Creatures.
One tore forward as the Transcendent let go of its chains.
It moved with frightening speed despite its stature.
Yet—
Golden threads manifested, tangling its legs as a dark figure moved.
Slash!
Swish!
Thud!
With three bursts of speed near its feet, both thread and blade cut through its neck, letting it slide to the ground dead.
The figure did not stop, already going to the next one.
At another spot, a man fought with twin short blades, weaving through attacks with frightening precision as if they posed no challenge.
While these were Transcendents, it—
Still—
The man ducked under a staff and swung one blade while blocking another.
Swish!
Ting!
Splash!
He cut through three more swords and jumped up as two used their Aspects.
The Seer of Paths did not seem bothered as dozens followed.
Leaning back, he came back-to-back with the Keeper of Fate.
"How much longer?" he asked.
"Thirty-eight seconds," the Keeper of Fate answered.
The Seer of Paths snapped to look over his shoulder.
"Thirty-eight?!" he asked.
"Focus."
The Keeper was calm even in their situation.
"You vile bastards—how dare you defile the kingdom of the War Goddess!"
Three Sovereigns appeared.
"Handle them," the Seer of Paths said, turning.
The Keeper of Fate grabbed his arm and pulled him back.
"That's your battle," he said.
The Seer of Paths grumbled and turned around to the Sovereigns as he prepared for combat.
"Why me?"
The Keeper of Fate jumped and turned, small steps beginning to work as he stepped forward.
Around him, millions of threads appeared, yet they all intertwined and linked together.
On top of a crumbling tower stood a man with a spear.
He looked over his shoulder.
"The other side has some Supreme tyrants coming," he said.
"I'll handle the Sovereigns," the Seer of Paths added hurriedly as an explosion resounded to the side.
They heard it, turned only for a moment, before moving to their battles.
"Be glad," a man said, his essence carrying the voice far across the chaos.
"Now twenty-seven seconds before the civilians are completely evacuated to other realms," he said as he stood atop a crumbling tower with his spear.
What seemed impossibly far away stood some portals as masses of people went through them.
"Just a little more, then we can spring our trap," he said as he looked up.
There were Noble Creatures and Transcendents led by a few Sovereigns coming.
The Harbinger of Ruin looked up and threw the spear, yet it disappeared into an arm of mist flowing around his hands as the fragment remained.
Within moments, a dark flower appeared high above as a shower of dark spears rained down.
"Wha—!"
"What is this?!"
"Move—agh!"
BOOM!
BASH!
BAM!
Explosions rushed as the army fell to the ground. The brilliant arena made of artifacts had already crumbled and was being raided over and over by the Awakened far away.
The man raised his spear and blocked an overhead strike effortlessly, pivoting on his feet and stabbing the man through.
The killing intent cut through as the Transcendent fell dead.
He looked aside as more appeared and leaped forward, the spear roaring with flames as he jumped far ahead.
Holding the spear over his head, he looked at the ground and threw the spear down as black flames spread across the ground, incinerating the Noble Creatures as they fell dead.
The man landed as the spear manifested, and he blocked a strike and stepped past their guard as more Transcendents rushed him.
On another side, the Keeper of Fate flipped over and landed on a Supreme Tyrant's nape and stabbed through as more threads appeared and cut deep from the other side.
Blood gushed out as the Supreme Tyrant fell dead.
The Keeper of Fate did not stop as a Transcendent man threw a spear that he dodged.
The other Supreme Tyrant roared, creating a shockwave.
The Keeper of Fate landed on the ground as he skidded back but did not falter.
He glanced to one side as one eye glowed golden for a moment.
A shockwave rushed.
"They're gone," the voice of the Harbinger of Ruin came as verbal confirmation.
The evacuation was complete.
The Keeper of Fate did not waste time as golden threads appeared in the air all across the area.
Several Supreme and Cursed abominations fell out, both across and outside the arena.
"What!"
"It's abominations! They sprung a trap!"
"Fight back the Corruption!"
The three men jumped around.
They reached a spot at the edge of the battlefield as warriors fought Corrupted creatures. Still, they were stunned for a few short moments before the abominations spread properly.
When—
BOOM!
All heads snapped in one direction.
Enemies and allies looked.
The three were far away from one another, but they knew.
"Damn it..." the Seer of Paths muttered as he looked at the sight.
For—
At the very center of the arena, below where the most glorious battles took place, watched and appraised by the Great Goddess of War herself...
Were her unit of five greatest warriors.
Champions taken in and trained from birth by the War Goddess, the unit composed of five humans who became true gods.
Humans who became Sacred.
The difference was immense.
A Noble Creature could reach the same Rank, but never would they be able to rival a human who reached Sacred with an Aspect. There would always inherently be a difference.
Superior by all regards.
Lesser gods.
But gods.
Yet—
The elite unit of the Great War Empire...
The Great Goddess of War's supposed Sacred army, capable of taking down the strongest of beings outside of the Great Gods and Daemons...
Were on their knees, cowed in fear as the harrowing figure of a mortal—a mere demigod...
A mere Sovereign overwhelmed them.
As shadows rose to the call of their Sovereign, a blade arose in his hands.
A Sacred one at the front tried to scurry away.
Another, holding a massive shield, looked cautious and frightened.
Two more were in the face, grimacing and hesitating, holding their weapons and charging an Aspect.
Another one's back was turned as they activated an artifact to escape.
Yet the man did not care.
With eerie calm, he swung his sword into the empty air as his Will descended and the fabric of space tore open, colliding with the blade and shield and sending the Sacred back.
The Lord of Shadows landed on the ground as cracks appeared under him, reaching the end of the arena.
His shoulders rose for a moment as torn flesh left some dried blood on his shoulder.
A light breath escaped him as he coughed faintly.
Yet his Will kept pushing back against the constant attempts at attacking him.
"Y-You... how are you keeping up with us?! Are you using Concepts? You're not Sacred?! H-How?!" the one on his back gasped.
The Lord of Shadows did not answer. With each step, he let his Will attack everything around him.
Essence poured into his odachi as he raised his blade firmly.
"I'm a very good swordsman."
However, something happened.
All gazes turned upward as a presence appeared.
No—
The Lord of Shadows narrowed his eyes.
"Four."
Space tore open in four different moments as everyone felt their knees buckle.
A choked laugh escaped the Sacred warriors as the warriors of the Great War Empire rasied their arms in reverence, unaware of the additional pressure.
The four masked Sovereigns looked up as their minds raced.
"What now?" the Seer of Paths asked.
"Whatever it is, we need to get to him. He's too close," the Harbinger of Ruin glanced at the Lord of Shadows.
The Keeper of Fate used Weaver's eyes despite the pain and exhaustion as he looked for a way out.
The Lord of Shadows' mind raced as he made a plan.
"Get to me. Now."
His firm voice came over essence echo as the three did not hesitate.
However—
"Little Shadow!"
The Great Goddess of War roared as her avatar manifested, only glaring at the Lord of Shadows.
"Wretched bastard!"
The Daemon of Destiny appeared as his eyes of darkness fell on the Seer of Paths.
"Mortal."
The Great Goddess of Sun looked at the Keeper of Fate.
"Human child."
The Daemon of Repose looked at the Harbinger of Ruin.
The four Sovereigns nearly fell to their knees as their legs strained beneath the pressure.
Yet the Lord of Shadows did not yield.
He simply raised his head and met the Great Goddess of War's glare.
The battle had only just begun.
...
The memories rushed back to everyone in the hall.
"I'd rather not think of what happened after that," the Seer of Paths said.
"Well—"
"No."
The Heir of Weaver spoke with chilling calmness.
"Do not think of the greatest of abominations."
Everyone obeyed.
...
The café was having yet another calm day as Nephis watched from the sofa with Orphany as Sunless flipped a waffle while moving to a rhythm he was probably imagining.
Both Nephis and Orphany looked at each other as Orphany moved her hand to cover a giggle, and Nephis smiled.
Nephis looked at her and smiled back as both looked at Sunless again.
Soon, Sunless finished his work and brought the food to the table.
"And the breakfast is ready," he said as the girls moved to the table, with Orphany skipping.
Slight puffs of steam came from the waffles as the girls sat down.
There were some fruit bowls, as well as some eggs and Nightmare flesh cut into bacon-style pieces for a hearty breakfast.
Sunless and Nephis sat down, and Nephis filled Orphany's plate.
Sunless shook his head faintly and fondly as he sat down as well.
"What are we doing today?" Orphany asked as Nephis cut her waffles and eggs into pieces for her.
"Well, you, me, and Pretty Miss are going for a walk to the hill. A picnic of sorts," he said.
Orphany's eyes lit up.
"Really?"
Sunless smiled.
"Really."
Orphany turned to Nephis.
"Really?"
Nephis smiled at the girl as she held Orphany's face from under her chin and squeezed softly.
"Really."
Orphany giggled at the action before she took the fork and entered her dinner-table-manners mode, as she called it.
"Did you pack everything?" Nephis asked for the sake of talking.
Sunless nodded.
"Yup. Snacks, drinks, food, picnic cloth, some pillows, picnic table, and some other necessities for Birdy," he counted.
Nephis blinked.
"Picnic table?" she asked.
Sunless looked at her and shook his head.
"Well... I can make Memories, so might as well?" he said carefully.
Nephis smiled more and shook her head before taking a bite of the food.
Sunless looked at her carefully as she took the bite.
Nephis felt his eyes and looked up to see Sunless.
Her smile grew faintly.
"Sunless," she called.
"Yes?" he asked guiltily.
She smiled.
"This is very delicious. Thank you for the wonderful breakfast," she said with faint warmth on her cheeks.
Sunless smiled more as his ears reddened faintly.
"You're welcome," he said.
Sunless and Nephis looked at each other as they shot smiles at each other.
Orphany ran the tip of her tongue along her teeth as she looked at them, confusion on her face.
Her lips pursed.
"Papa? Pretty Miss?" she called.
The two adults looked down and blinked at the look.
"Yes?"
"Birdy?"
However—
Orphany looked at them and pointed.
She never pointed at the table.
"What are you two playing?" she asked.
They blinked.
"Huh?"
Orphany's brows furrowed.
"I saw you two walk with pinkies, and now you two are smiling," she crossed her arms and looked away.
"You two are playing without me! Hmph!"
She looked away.
Sunless and Nephis blinked.
Then—
Orphany blinked and looked back as they looked away, their shoulders shaking.
Orphany blinked.
"Why are you laughing!"
She waved her tiny arms, but the adults did not look.
"E-Ehh! Papa! Pretty Miss!" she called.
It took a few moments before they looked back.
"We're not playing without you, Birdy," Sunless said with a smile, and Nephis nodded.
Nephis looked at her and gently patted her head.
"Don't worry," she said. "We won't play without you."
She caressed her head.
The girl looked at them, then leaned into Nephis's touch as a smile came back.
She picked up her fork and took another bite, then looked at them after swallowing.
"Then what is happening? You two act weird," she said.
Sunless and Nephis blinked, then glanced at each other, their cheeks faintly red, before looking back at Orphany.
"Well—"
Sunless was stopped.
"Master Sunless?" Nephis called as the two looked at each other.
"Can I tell Orphany?" she asked.
Sunless blinked, but with a smile, nodded and looked at her.
Nephis turned to Orphany.
"Well, you see, Orphany, there was something I wanted to tell you," she said.
Orphany blinked and tilted her head cutely.
Sunless smiled more as Nephis patted her head.
"But I'll tell you later, okay?" she said.
Sunless blinked and looked at her, his brows furrowing.
"It's our little talk, okay?" she said.
Orphany blinked, and a moment later, beamed.
"Our secret?" she asked.
Nephis considered the words.
"Something like that."
Orphany beamed and nodded.
"Okay!"
Sunless was confused but chuckled.
"Now, now, table manners, Birdy," he said.
Orphany nodded as she straightened up in her chair.
Sunless and Nephis smiled at each other and got back to their breakfast.
...
As the tides of the Stormsea moved, some people stood on a small island.
These were the Legacies and people of the House of Night.
It was a normal day. Some people were working, while others were sitting and talking.
Inside the buildings, in several different rooms, several different important conversations were going on.
So, naturally...
No one noticed a man standing in the open.
His essence suppressed, his presence concealed.
The Keeper of Fate looked down at everyone.
Then—
Hundreds of essence threads appeared around him.
They were threads of Weaving.
However, no knots appeared for combat. With one True Name to reinforce their existence, they all held the Concept of Mind only.
They were not visible to others on the island, so no one noticed as the threads moved, neither for combat nor for Weaving.
Merely a connection to the minds.
The threads moved through buildings and bodies, passing through them intangibly as they touched the people on the island without harming them.
They merely touched their minds, forming a connection.
The Keeper of Fate looked up at the sky as he muttered.
"Asterion."
Badum.
Nothing happened.
Not visibly, at least.
The threads vanished as the Keeper of Fate looked at all the beings before golden threads manifested around him in the thousands.
A cocoon formed.
And he disappeared.
...
Somewhere on the moon of the Waking World, the third Sovereign, Asterion, was lying on his side.
However, unlike usual, his eyes were gazing into open space as his concentration darted.
Then—
A small smile came to his lips.
"So you're bound by geography, huh?" he said as he realized.
His Domain was not disappearing randomly.
Whenever he felt people being removed from his Domain, it happened in masses at one spot, be it in the Waking World or the Dream Realm.
"Whoever you are..."
He closed his eyes as he focused on others in his Domain.
"One day... I'll find you..." he muttered as he used his Aspect to put enough attention on them to speak his name more often, allowing his Domain to spread faster.
"And when I do..." he muttered as his brows furrowed.
Somewhere in the Stormsea, many Ascended and some Saints were cut off from his Domain, weakening the strength he could draw from them.
His jaw clenched.
"I'll kill you."
...
The Keeper of Fate appeared on his throne as he looked at the assembly of people.
"Ahh," he let out.
The Cursed of Truth was there.
"How interesting," the Keeper of Fate said.
"If the great Lord of Shadows were here, all four of us would be here."
The Cursed of Truth turned to him.
"Indeed..." he paused as he glanced at the throne of the Lord of Shadows.
"The great Lord of Shadows... much like us, his powers are immense..." He glanced around.
"So are the Mysteries he cradles in his shadows," he said.
"Speaking of the great Lord of Shadows and his Mysteries, are we?"
The Crown of Grace appeared.
The Heir of Weaver smiled.
"Greetings, oh great Crown of Grace," he welcomed.
"Greetings to you as well, oh great Keeper of Fate," the Crown of Grace answered before nodding.
"It seems there are four of us here," he said.
The Heir of Weaver looked at him.
Then—
He and the Cursed of Truth exchanged a glance unnoticed by the Crown of Grace.
"Can you tell me about it, oh great Cursed of Truth?" the Crown of Grace asked warmly.
The Cursed of Truth looked at him.
"The Mysteries of the great Lord of Shadows?" the Crown of Grace asked as he leaned back.
The other looked at him.
"I understand that the great Lord of Shadows had gone to the Shadow Realm as the Great Goddess of War and the Great God of Shadows battled in the Nightmare Desert, and had stolen the Pool of Mysteries of the Great God of Shadows. But what does it do?" he said.
The Cursed of Truth and the Keeper of Fate regarded the words.
The Keeper of Fate spoke.
"The Great God of Shadows is the God of Death, Shadows, Solace, as well as Mysteries," he explained.
"The great Lord of Shadows stole the very pool where the Mysteries were stored by the Great God of Shadows," the Cursed of Truth explained.
"While that did not deprive the Great God of Shadows of the Mysteries Shadow gave, it certainly was a Divine desecration that the great Lord of Shadows went to his Divine Realm behind his back and stole one of the most prized possessions Shadow could give," he said.
The Crown of Grace nodded in understanding.
"But how does that make his knowledge rival yours, or different from yours, oh great Keeper of Fate? Oh great Cursed of Truth?" he asked.
A moment passed.
Then—
The Keeper of Fate answered.
"What is Truth? And what is Fate?" he asked.
Then answered.
"Truth is what has happened. Fate is what existence has willed to happen," he said.
"Fate cannot be changed, for Fate is great, and only what Fate willed to become Truth is, and only what Fate used to fulfill its wishes became true, for it happened."
He paused.
"However, if destiny is not being controlled, then there are unnecessary things that took place. Or perhaps objectives discarded that were never used. Or perhaps an accumulation of meaningless things that became meaningful through the merging of many smaller meaningless things," he said.
"Anything that was hidden can be Truth and Mysteries. Anything that is not known can be Truth and Mysteries, and anything that is hidden can be part of Fate and Mysteries," he paused. "However..."
"Anything that is a Mystery does not have to be Fate. Everything that is a Mystery does not have to be Truth."
Something about his presence thickened.
"Anything that is even forgotten can be Mysteries."
!!!
The Crown of Grace raised his chin as Transcendent pressure descended upon the hall.
A revelation of the world?
Could that be considered as such?
Could the idea that anything forgotten could be Mysteries be so different from the rest?
The Crown of Grace thought until he lowered his head, as if forgetting what was said.
A moment of silence passed as all considered the words.
The Cursed of Truth began.
"In that regard, there are many things that only the great Lord of Shadows can know. Knowledge that even the likes of me and the great Keeper of Fate cannot hold," he said.
"A hidden Citadel? A lost great weapon, an uncharted realm, or a smaller realm that is yet to be connected to the Dream Realm," the Keeper of Fate said.
"Even something like lost knowledge, a plan discarded, a memory forgotten. Such things are in the hands of the Lord of Shadows," the Cursed of Truth said.
"Mysteries cradled by the great Lord of Shadows," the Keeper of Fate finished.
A moment of silence settled.
The Crown of Grace considered the words as he nodded.
A small smile came to his lips behind his mask.
"The great Lord of Shadows truly is of a unique kind, even among you four who are known for your knowledge," he praised.
"Oh great Keeper of Fate, oh great Cursed of Truth, oh great..."
He paused as hesitation entered his voice.
"Ahh..." he let out, thinking.
Then he spoke as if nothing had happened.
"Oh great Lord of Shadows."
The others looked at him before the Keeper of Fate nodded in appreciation.
Then—
The Lord of Shadows appeared in a swirl of shadows on his throne.
Yet he did not speak as he usually would.
No one greeted him either.
The Crown of Grace sat there as he looked around.
"Ahhh," he let out in realization.
He got up calmly.
"I suppose I'll let you three be..." he trailed off at the end before nodding.
"Greetings, Lord of Shadows," he said as he disappeared.
...
No one spoke for a moment.
"You play too much," the Lord of Shadows said in his deep, heavy tone.
!!!
No one reacted as the pressure of a Transcendent descended upon the hall.
Especially not the Lord of Shadows and Keeper of Fate.
The Cursed of Truth turned faintly.
As the last of the thrones that had yet to be filled—
Or that's what the others believed.
He glanced at the Lord of Shadows and the Keeper of Fate, knowing that the conversation that would come would concern them more than him.
Even among the seven who sat on these thrones, there were four who could hold on to knowledge of existence that no one else could.
First was the great Keeper of Fate, who had read the tapestry of Fate itself.
Second was the great Lord of Shadows, whose ways were as mysterious as his being.
Third was the great Cursed of Truth, who was cursed to carry Truth that tormented even Ariel.
And the fourth was...
The Transcendent pressure disappeared.
A heavy, thick voice spoke, almost raspily.
"Fate is absolute?"
The three others turned their heads to the final throne.
The one situated down the line from the Lord of Shadows, opposite the Cursed of Truth.
The Keeper of Fate looked at the man.
His words were being spoken.
"How could you say such a thing, oh great Keeper of Fate?" the man spoke as his voice returned to a more youthful one, his throat clearing.
His head turned as a demon mask looked at them, protruding no horns but wearing thorns from the sides of the eyes.
"Fate cannot be defied?" he questioned as his eyes narrowed behind his mask.
"Fate is great. Fate is absolute. Even the Great Gods bow to Fate. The beings of the Void bow to Fate. Both Chaos and Flame bow to Fate," he said.
"Fate is what governs existence itself," he said. "However, Fate has its own objective, and all shall bow to fulfill that objective. If one exists, they either exist to serve the will of Fate."
"Defy Fate? Foolish are their dreams. Such beings truly think they will become exactly what they wish?" His voice sharpened.
"Have they ever considered that the dreams they have, the desire they attained, the desire to defy Fate..."
An ominous pause.
"...were all but a part of Fate's plan?"
"After all, have they not been serving their purpose in the vast tapestry of Fate? Of all those that tried to defy Fate, every act they believed was to defy Fate led them closer to fulfilling Fate."
"All have already served their purpose. Pawns that are discarded. And now what happens to them is not Fate's concern. Nothing but the inevitable embrace of Death awaits them, be it now or in the far future."
His eyes narrowed.
"However, should they choose to walk a path that cuts through the desires of Fate, that far future will become the next instant before they can save their lives... such is the might of Fate."
No one stopped him.
No one disrupted him.
Not even the Lord of Shadows, who only spoke in such matters to correct records of existence.
Yet he would.
He would if the masked man did not correct himself.
Something about the masked man's presence changed as he turned to the Keeper of Fate.
"Fate cannot be defied?" he questioned as his eyes narrowed behind his mask.
"How could Fate not be defied, oh great Keeper of Fate?" he said, his head turning upward as he looked into the endless heights.
"Fate can be defied."
A pause.
"In fact, Fate exists above time, which means, in a sense, Fate has already been defied, Fate is being defied, and Fate will be defied."
He paused as he got up from his seat and took two steps forward.
"It is only a matter of time. It was only a matter of time until what can defy Fate comes to be."
The Cursed of Truth looked up.
"How could that be?" he said knowingly.
The masked man, as well as the others, looked at him.
"If Fate governs all of existence, both the realms and the Primordial Void the Great Gods sealed away, then how could something that can defy Fate come to be?" he asked.
The masked man turned to him fully.
"Did you not ask that yourself, oh great Cursed of Truth, when you counseled the great Keeper of Fate about Weaving and Fate?"
He turned to the Keeper of Fate.
"The laws of existence that the Great Gods created—even they had to bow to each other's created laws."
"Much like the Great Gods embraced Death. Yet when you spoke of the great laws of existence, you did not speak of the Great God of Shadows' creation," he said.
"You spoke of the fact that was above even the laws of existence—Fate, which even the Great Gods bowed to," he said as he turned around.
"The answer lies in what you yourself said to the great Seer of Paths, oh great Cursed of Truth."
The Cursed of Truth leaned in.
The masked man spoke.
"The Laws of Paradox," he said.
The Lord of Shadows leaned back as his chin raised.
The masked man did not elaborate as he stepped back.
"...Will you not speak further?" the Cursed of Truth asked.
The masked man did not answer immediately.
He ascended the steps to his throne again.
"The tapestry of Fate is as cold and vast as it is cowardly and pathetic," he paused.
"At least, that's what I believe."
"How fitting," the Lord of Shadows said, nearly dismissively even now.
"For you all being to speak of what no one wished to know or remember."
The Keeper of Fate finally looked down from the endless heights.
"Forgive me, for I have been speaking in puzzles," the Keeper of Fate said.
He finally looked down at the man who took his throne.
"Oh great Child of Erasure, Heir of Oblivion, Daemon of Erasure."
...