Chapter 832
Chapter 832
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 832
Chapter Title: Threads of Infinite Fate
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Since witches first came into existence, countless years had passed, yet interpretations of the Oracle Organ remained shrouded in obscurity.
The true nature of the Witch of Revelation was veiled even more deeply than that of the Witch of Whispers.
Strands of infinite fate.
A being who gazed down upon the past, present, and future from the crossroads where threads of karma intertwined.
Not omnipotent, but omniscient—an entity ascended to the observation post of a god.
Eloa had declared that this Witch of Revelation existed in another dimension altogether.
She observed simultaneously the tens of thousands of alterable pasts, the hundreds of millions of branching presents, and the trillions of divided futures.
Thus, everything reflected in her eyes held no meaning, and for that reason, she claimed the role of mere bystander.
She merely repeated her assigned duties—"management of the Oracle Organ" and "guidance of witch succession"—like some mechanical device.
That was why even the prophetic dream from before hadn't carried much weight.
After all, she'd been told that the Witch of Revelation's notion of "importance" diverged entirely from ordinary standards.
In truth, the futures conveyed directly by the Witch of Revelation were usually trivial by any normal measure.
Witches who bothered to act on them often returned grumbling about how utterly useless the prophecies had been.
Yet this time, the Witch of Revelation had spoken to Siu twice.
The first was, "Convey my reverence to the king hanging upside down."
The second was, "I've been waiting for you."
There was unmistakable intent behind it.
A will that no mere gearwork or cogwheel could produce.
Moreover, the future Siu had glimpsed was far from ordinary.
Becoming the King of Witches out of nowhere?
Acquiring an apprentice witch?
Each one was so profoundly meaningful it bordered on absurd.
"You've been waiting for me?"
Siu finally shook off his bewilderment.
Calming his heart, which pounded as if it might burst, he attempted a composed conversation.
A being who could answer every question stood before him.
"……."
The moment he faced her, a sense of déjà vu washed over him.
This feeling was...
Yes.
It closely resembled the Duke of Keter, whom he'd seen several times while recovering erased memories from the past.
He couldn't pinpoint exactly what made it so similar.
One thing was clear: this girl was exerting tremendous effort to focus on Siu.
In her eerie eyes, swirling with unknowable hues, Siu's presence flickered in and out of existence ceaselessly.
"Were you waiting for me?"
"Yes. Ah, ——, ——, ——."
Her small mouth opened, and words emerged.
They followed a definite structure and rhythm, unmistakably a language.
Yet he couldn't comprehend them.
No, it wasn't mere incomprehension—even trying to mimic the sounds felt impossible at the vocal stage.
His brain rejected it outright.
A headache throbbed.
"I can't understand you."
At that instant, the girl frowned.
She tilted her head and smacked her lips, but that wouldn't bridge the communication gap.
She could only vaguely sense that something was amiss.
"Sigh."
The Witch of Revelation let out a sigh.
The sigh sounded perfectly ordinary.
She bent at the waist.
Dipping her fingertips into the lake's edge, she scooped up a tiny amount of water.
Her slightly wet hand brushed his cheek.
Though small, it felt like touching something immensely vast.
Consciousness flooded in.
In a black, universe-like expanse, threads of every color flowed.
These exceedingly fine strands scattered at times, bundled at others, and wove intricately like nerve clusters in all directions.
They were unrealized pasts.
Presents and futures never reached.
Histories that existed in the world and those that never did coexisted, recorded together.
Threads so vast that billions of years couldn't count half of them stretched from arm's reach to the invisible infinite beyond.
And Siu looked down upon their spiraling flows from the center.
The observation post of an omniscient god.
The phrase surfaced unbidden.
He swallowed and lightly touched a thread right before his eyes.
His vision overlapped like dozens of screens playing footage simultaneously.
There, against the backdrop of the Oracle Organ, the Witch of Revelation stood in the exact pose, caressing her cheek.
"You're the only one who freed me from the chains of fate. So I'll tell you the future. Use me."
"Now I can finally grow up. I hated always looking like a ten-year-old."
"Ahh, so this is how ordinary humans see the world. I love it."
"Can I tell you I love you?"
This was one of countless possibilities.
A reality that might have come to pass if Siu had chosen differently in the past.
The Witch of Revelation—her name was Dekima Verdandi.
For some reason, Dekima had devolved into a mechanical device, but Siu had risked his life to save her.
Uttering cool lines like, "You don't have to suffer alone anymore."
Once freed from eternal bondage, they became inseparable lovers.
In the process, Verdandi lost most of her abilities as "administrator."
But that was fine.
They loved each other so deeply.
With the Witch of Revelation gone, succession would become an issue, but they'd figure it out together later.
Having overcome trials and confirmed their feelings, they were simply happy now.
Layered atop it was another possibility unfolding.
"I knew you'd come crawling to me like this."
"Finally begging for my wisdom? Too late."
"My greatest joy is mocking your despairing face."
Over the Witch of Revelation's expressionless visage,
over the lovely Dekima Verdandi's face,
another hue superimposed itself.
A blend of disgust, contempt, scorn, and vicious delight.
The Witch of Revelation savored the thrill of subjugating the Shin Siu who had long hated her.
Without kneeling immediately, confessing past sins, and bowing his head, gaining her cooperation would be impossible.
"Rip out your own guts with your hands. As a spiritual body, you won't die from that—show me your resolve."
A cruel, icy voice pierced his ear.
"Urk...!"
Siu yanked his hand away from the thread, nausea surging.
Utterly opposing emotions assaulted his brain at once.
He loved Dekima, and he hated her.
She was a total stranger with no connection, yet sometimes a lover he'd rip his heart out for.
Emotions at opposite poles, all overflowing with hyper-real intensity, tangled his feelings for her into chaos.
Which of them was the meaningful present? Which the meaningful bond?
This was how the Witch of Revelation perceived the world.
For a being perched on the edge of uncertainty across eons impossible to fathom, "reality" held little significance.
The realization sent chills down his spine.
That's not what you need to see.
Dekima's will transmitted soundlessly, resounding across the cosmos.
The fate-threads, wildly free on a micro scale yet forming vast spirals on a macro one, wound like thread onto a spindle.
Before Siu lay just two slender strands.
Though not yet touching his hand, he knew.
These connected to a fixed past.
Honestly, he didn't want to touch them.
It felt like cramming information and emotions beyond human cognitive limits into his brain.
Still, he held his breath and reached out again.
A confirmed past should be safe enough.
He had to extract as much info as possible from this space.
His instincts screamed it.
Consciousness sank lower.
"Yes, Mother. As you wished."
One witch yearned to inherit her mother's legacy.
The realm of creating and destroying all phenomena.
Yearning to follow that great feat of rewriting the world's laws, she accepted her inheritance and pressed onward.
To stand atop the rainbow.
She honed herself relentlessly over suffocatingly long ages.
Following her mother's arrangements—even devouring kin without hesitation—she devoted her endless life to greater power.
She never neglected maintaining world order to ensure witches prospered.
Vast time passed.
The world changed.
After countless trials, errors, and failures, she realized the truth.
She could never become like her mother.
She would never reach that realm this way.
To transcend humanity, she first had to shed her shackles.
The witch gathered and separated the impurities from her soul.
She excised the wicked chaos opposing order, stripping away the unnecessary.
Where flesh and spirit tore apart, leaving only purity, remained sticky filth and dregs.
The witch, intent on incinerating the corruption in eternal undying flames, paused at the baby's cry from within.
Though she knew it impure, knew it would birth chaos and disorder over order.
The fierce craving for life pulsed in that cry.
After agonizing deliberation, the witch took the baby into her arms.
Gazing into eyes like the night sky, she named her Lilith.
Before the shock could settle, vision shifted again.
A yawning temporal gulf separated the two memories.
All efforts had been meaningless.
Despite striving to uphold order.
Despite rending flesh and spirit to purge impurities.
The witch remained a failure.
The Lilith she'd taken in, changing her mind, had become a being craving only destruction and chaos.
She realized the realm—just two steps away—would remain eternally out of reach.
All witches were failures.
Defective goods with built-in limits preventing them from standing atop the rainbow.
In her pessimism and despair, the witch discovered one possibility.
Incredibly slim, yet the only one to cling to.
Keter opened her mouth.
"I shall heal her. Bring the child to me."
And so.
She sowed the seed.