Against The True Gods

The dream vision faded, and Caine was left alone in the dark expanse once more.

He slowly closed his eyes, exhaling a shaky breath, his body trembling and his heart thundering.

THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!

His Dao Heart beat with incredible force, nearing collapse as his Holy and Demonic Wills flooded his body, wrapping around his mind in an effort to calm the flood of emotions threatening to erupt.

Caine's trembling hands slowly moved to clasp behind his back. Without uttering a word and with his eyes still closed, he began to take measured steps forward.

And yet, with each step, the emotions burning in his Hearts only seemed to thicken and darken, nearly gaining sentience as a mantle of bloody scarlet aura erupted across his body, blooming along with a wave of potent and malevolent killing intent that blanketed over the expanse.

But his steps didn't falter, uncaring for his raging emotions and his crumbling Hearts.

WHOOOSH!

His emotions reached an unknown peak, seemingly ready to explode, but suddenly, all cracks on his Hearts vanished entirely. By the second, these same chaotic emotions were leashed and contained, flowing through him and falling under his perfect control.

Still, his steps did not falter, even as he regained control and his aura stabilized once more.

The essence of his path was perfection, but its foundation remained control. Fate, Totality, Karma, Destiny—they all stemmed from control.

To conquer them was to conquer himself. To control them was to control himself.

If he couldn't manage even this, would he truly be worthy of the crown waiting ahead?

He would remain in control.

He had killed himself in the Three Realms because he abhorred the idea of another manipulating him, of being reduced to a mere lab rat.

He had forged his bones and flesh by stealing from the world itself, drawing its wrath because he refused to rely on anything that wasn't himself—anything he couldn't control.

He had chosen to be a Summoner and Necromancer because, unless he was in control, he would never be at ease.

Control, in all its forms and shapes, was primordial. It was a part of him.

He would remain in control.

WHOOOSH!

His Dao Hearts shone with brilliant splendor, solidifying into even greater strength as Caine repeated this mantra endlessly in his mind.

Again, and again, and again, and again.

He slowly opened his eyes, and immediately, the world around him blurred and yet another dream began to take shape. Enjoy more content from My Virtual Library Empire

There was no need to waste time analyzing and dissecting the vision—he already understood.

While he had believed that he needed to prepare for a future event, this dream recontextualized everything.

He didn't need to prepare for anything. The event—the one meant to steer the direction of the world's future—had already occurred.

What he needed to do was not to save or kill anyone. He had to understand the circumstances of it all.

Only then would this entire puzzle truly make sense.

Caine's mind sharpened, and he began to pay attention. But as the dream began, his gaze widened.

***

In a grand and vast hall, five thrones of gold were arranged around a floating, spinning sphere of silver. The sphere was etched with black and white runes that danced and intertwined, forming an otherworldly formation of inhuman complexity.

Upon the first throne sat a tall man with slicked-back, short black hair and deep blue eyes full of wisdom, veiled by thick rectangular glasses. Thick black armor draped over him, and nine floating swords hovered behind him.

Sitting upright on his throne, this could only be one man—Zao Lequin Velios.

On the second throne sat an almost eight-foot-tall man with a large, bulky frame. His titan-like muscles were so thick and powerful that the air shook with the slightest twitch.

He wore only pants, his hairy chest exposed, revealing blue tunic tattoos on one half and deep, complex dark amethyst runes on the other.

His bald head gleamed under the dim light of the hall, and his thick ginger beard covered his aged face. His blazing gold and azure eyes radiated stoic focus and tempered tenacity.

This could only be one man—Theobald Archwinter.

Upon the third throne sat a very short woman.

Her long brown hair flowed behind her like a cape, complementing her deep, unreadable golden eyes.

Her aura carried the essence of a slumbering titan and a raging dragon—a stark contrast to her tiny frame, yet strangely fitting.

This was Tanariaham Cercis, or as Caine knew her, Aunty Tania.

The two remaining thrones were empty.

The three sat in silence, indifferent to the sounds of war echoing from beyond the hall.

The thick smell of blood filled the air, accompanied by violent roars, cries of pleading mercy, and the clanking of blades—all merging into a symphony of merciless carnage.

"Lady Gaia has died," Zao softly spoke, his voice deep and measured.

Tania's head rose, her gaze meeting his.

"…what?"

Zao sighed. "She has died. It appears to be a sacrifice of some sort. I only just noticed it through a concealed ripple in the world and a message she left behind."

Theobald's gaze narrowed. "A message?"

Zao nodded and elaborated. "She left a rather cryptic word puzzle—or perhaps it's a prophecy. But it's quite short…"

[Life and Death sundered by a Star.]

Tania frowned. "What do we do now? With the Great Mother gone, our forces restrained, and the world invaded, there isn't much I see that can be done."

"We either charge one final time in a suicide attack, or we leave now before it's too late."

Her voice was grim, yet filled with untamable conviction.

She was ready to die without regrets.

"None of that will be needed," Zao said, pushing himself up from his throne. He groaned in pain, the wounds concealed beneath his armor evidently numerous.

"I'll simply have to call upon the—"

His words blurred into an unintelligible screech as the dream vision faded, and Caine returned to the dark expanse once more.