Chapter 104
Chapter 104
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 104
Chapter Title: There is No Fate.
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*
Stepping out of the barracks, Partak approached with a cackling giggle. Fernandez gave a wry smile as he watched Partak sniffing the air.
“You smell like tea leaves. Is he joining us now?”
“He’s with us.”
“Kek, splendid, my lord.”
Partak bared his black molars in a satisfied grin. He gazed at Fernandez with eyes full of awe.
“Where on earth did you learn swordsmanship like that? If I may ask without offense...”
“Speak.”
“You’re not human, are you?”
Partak’s voice cracked into a whisper. Fernandez stifled a laugh and fixed him with a stern gaze. He subtly twisted his finger, nudging the obedience curse hooked into Partak’s heart.
“Watch your tongue, Partak. It’s not time yet.”
“Heh heh, of course, my lord. As long as my heart beats, I swear loyalty to you. See for yourself, my lord. Unlike that puppet girl who might bolt anywhere, this old man is far more reliable. I’m ensnared by your magic—no fear of betrayal here.”
Partak snickered. He knew he still had value, and Fernandez wouldn’t discard a useful card.
Magic superior to his own, martial prowess rivaling that unbeatable warrior over there. And on top of it all, an impossibly young face. To Partak, Fernandez wasn’t human.
A demon—no, a high-ranking one at that. At least a grand duke-level demon. He’d even pinpointed Partak as the leader of the De’Rakaz Swarm. All the evidence fit.
Fernandez could read Partak’s psyche as clearly as if it lay in his palm. Then Partak whispered again.
“Vatrus wishes to see you, my lord. Be cautious. Vatrus is a mighty warrior, a chieftain with immense prestige among the beastkin tiger clans. He suspects you.”
“Ah, I needed to speak with him anyway. Where?”
“His camp. Alone in enemy territory— are you sure?”
Just then, a clear voice rang out from behind him. Partak stiffened, baring his fangs and growling.
“He’s not alone.”
“Abel.”
Abel stared at Partak like vermin with her blue eyes brimming with hostility. Partak started to lunge but glanced at Fernandez and shrank back quietly.
‘My lord’s concubine.’
That put her above him in the hierarchy. A worthless human wench. Partak grumbled as he melted into the shadows.
Watching him go, Fernandez let out a soft chuckle.
*
Vatrus’s clan encampment stood apart from the festive air outside, grim and menacing. They didn’t block Fernandez, but their sharp glares pierced him relentlessly.
At the center of the camp, before a massive bonfire. Piel, clad in ornate ritual robes, tossed ashes, metal dust, and beast bone fragments into the flames.
Vatrus watched with arms crossed. Fernandez approached him slowly.
“Oh, you’ve come.”
“I heard you summoned me.”
“Indeed. I have business with you. Wait till the rite ends, then join me in my tent.”
Vatrus turned toward his barracks. The bonfire’s hue shifted gradually to yellow. Piel’s dance before it was striking.
‘She’s learned proper shamanism?’
-Even half of your past-life talents would make that girl one of the top prodigies in the human world.
‘Let’s hope she’s friendly to us.’
Fernandez lacked deep knowledge of the Great Wilderness’s native shamanism. His expertise lay in combat magic, enchantment, summoning, and curses.
So for once, he savored the chance to leisurely study new spells. The bonfire cycled through yellow, red, and purple. The powders Piel cast into it crackled against the flames, scattering sparks in vivid hues.
-Hooo...
A wind descended, and soon the bonfire’s color returned to normal. Fernandez watched intently, then noticed Piel staring at him.
Abel, standing beside him, whispered softly.
“That child’s eyes see time.”
“What do you mean?”
“Exactly that. She has a rare gift. The eyes of a prophet. It’s been ages since I’ve seen them.”
“Not good.”
Fernandez clicked his tongue. Prophets always met early ends. He approached Piel slowly as she stared right through him.
Piel gasped and stepped back. Only then did she seem to truly register him, her gaze softening as she bowed her head.
“Clan shaman. You’ve seen me before, haven’t you?”
“...Karash.”
Karash—spirit sorcerer. As Fernandez’s brow twitched, Piel shrank further, hunching her neck in fear.
“You’re a complicated man. I fear you.”
“Did you see a future where I harm you?”
Piel quietly shook her head.
“Prophecy doesn’t work that way.”
“I know.”
Piel looked at him puzzled. Fernandez gazed steadily into her honey-colored eyes. Talent? Spirituality? Divinity? Nothing registered.
‘Is she really the seraphim...?’
-Not in this era, but no prophet of her caliber has appeared in the Great Wilderness.
‘She looks identical too. She must be... but sealed?’
-High likelihood.
He met Piel’s eyes slowly. Sealed or not, Beitasser had said his four daughters were his aid to Fernandez.
She couldn’t be incompetent.
“Prophet, seer, oracle, grand shaman, medium, high priest... Know this? So many types who glimpse the future, yet all peer at it the same way.”
“Yes...?”
Fernandez eyed her. Prophet’s eyes. He’d never seen them before. All prophets died soon after awakening.
From a black magic perspective, foresight powers fall into one category.
“Inverse causality and information reflection independents. That’s how we classify them.”
“What does that...”
Modern black magic holds that all events and states manifest as ‘information’ reflections. This ‘information’ reflects irrespective of causality—or timelines like future or past—though typically perceived on the current timeline.
In this information reflection theory, independents exist. Those who observe such info ignoring causality. Perceiving reflections from future or past.
Contemporary black magic calls them ‘prophets.’ And Piel was a true one. Unaware of her power’s full scope.
Fortunate. Fully awakened prophets all suicided.
“Can you specify a target to glimpse their future?”
“Uh... yes.”
“Can you see a specific future for a specific target?”
“No, that’s not it. Only very rarely. Very rarely.”
Piel was terrified by Fernandez’s clinical tone. She’d glimpsed his magic prowess and past fragments.
His experimental gaze and speech terrified the young girl.
“You’re a Grade 2 inverse causality information reflection independent. You perceive random probabilistic futures for specific targets. Meaning, you see a desired target’s future or past irrespective of intent. Right?”
“...Yes.”
“Very, very high chance of becoming Grade 1.”
Prophets sensing sudden info regardless of target or time: Grade 3. Specific target, any time: Grade 2.
True prophets observing specific target at specific points: Grade 1.
All Grade 1s went mad or suicided without exception.
‘Was this why Beitasser asked me to save his daughter? Spare Pieranel of wisdom and truth from suicide risk?’
-Probably.
“So avoid prophesying if possible. Honing your power brings ruin closer. Gazing at days of life is peering at days of death.”
“I get you want to block my power. But Karash, I don’t trust you.”
“Wise choice. Keep it that way. But prejudice isn’t good, shaman.”
-Shh.
Fernandez raised his hand over Piel’s frightened face. She flinched, but he merely gently stroked her crown.
Such a small girl. Fragile and tiny. Just like Aria when they first met. Fernandez looked down at her sentimentally for a moment.
“Always remember: however certain the info, the futures you see are merely most probable ones. No such thing as all info marching to a fated path—destiny.”
“Awfully romantic...?”
“Utterly objective. I tested it myself.”
A hypothesis verified by killing people he’d never slain before, cross-checked. Fernandez didn’t mention that.
Behind him, Abel gazed at him deeply impressed. She teased softly.
“No fate, you say?”
“What now?”
“I disagree.”
Abel huffed a laugh.
*
Vatrus sat in a chair draped with tanned tiger hide. His knotted, muscular forearms flexed as he crossed them.
“Not in the mood for tea?”
“If calling you meant war, how nice that’d be. I wouldn’t agonize if it were so simple.”
Vatrus paused, then spoke.
“I heard from Partak. That catfolk girl’s a divine apostle. Odd, isn’t it? Partak fears you more than her. And she seems to revere you.”
Impressive deduction for someone who’d arrived mere half a day ago. Fernandez smirked.
“The beastkin tiger federation’s split in half, civil war looming. Even I saw that arriving today. Amid this, why not purge me? I’m prime prey.”
“Killing you lets us swallow a clan with many fine warriors. Naturally.”
“So what’s the reason? My eyes aren’t knotholes. Clearly, you’re this clan’s head. Convince me. Tea or liquor?”
War or parley. Vatrus spoke imposingly, knowing war meant his death best of all. His attachment to the tiger federation was genuine.
Fernandez cracked open a liquor keg in the tent corner, swigged, and tossed it to Vatrus. Vatrus caught it quietly.
“I’m leaving.”
“What?”
“The tiger alliance must head south and east. This spot’s unsafe. Tutan Gartep’s legions march south from the north.”
“Where to?”
“North. To the hawkish tiger clans between his camp and us.”
Fernandez pulled a map from the tent corner and unrolled it before Vatrus. He drew a line from Tutan Gartep’s northern position to their western one.
“The tiger alliance can’t clash with the Pharaoh now. Build strength, unify the alliance. So aid the great chieftain.”
“And you during that time...?”
“Rally crisis-hit clans, strike the Pharaoh. Buy some time.”
Vatrus reeled in confusion. Why? Why volunteer as cannon fodder when holding the tiger federation’s heart?
“May I ask why?”
“It’s hunting season.”
Fernandez smirked.
“The star of this land’s board must be the great chieftain, not me.”
He needed the Great Wilderness’s brightest hero shining. An icon for this wasteland. Not just to raise a future support base.
Literally, the flashiest figure. A blazing, undefeated dragon reversal warrior to draw every powerbroker’s gaze.
‘A hero even great demons fixate on.’
-While we become daggers in the dark.
To slay the great demon or seal it for at least a century.
The wasteland’s clock ticked. No time to stall. Fortunately, plenty of fat to exploit here.