Chapter 114: If Fate Makes Me Kneel and Beg for Mercy

Fifteen breaths from now, he will be defeated.

The future presented itself to Edgar Galsworthy with agonizing clarity—a single, simple straight punch, and the "Mental Barrier," inherited from the twenty-third High Priest, shattered instantly. Without a moment’s hesitation, the blow tore through three layers of defensive nets, including the Absolute Static Field, the Sanctuary of Order, and the Spatial Blockade, arriving directly before him.

Then, the fist grew larger and larger in his field of vision...

The world plunged into darkness.

This was the future.

Out of one hundred and twenty-seven total abilities, this was the only one that was truly his own: the ability to foresee the future. Or, to be more precise, the ability to determine it.

The future is not immutable. If time is a river, then the water flowing from the past possesses nearly infinite possibilities at the crossroads of the present; every choice made by every individual could potentially carve out a brand-new future. Unfortunately, his ability was forever devoid of hope. What reflected in those dark pupils was always only one future—a future already fixed, a future destined to arrive.

From childhood, through countless cases, he had confirmed this truth.

The most prominent and dramatic of these was his ascension to the position of High Priest of Hermetica. As early as age sixteen, when his parents forced him to serve as a novice priest at the Temple of Hephaestus, he had seen the one future where all paths converged—the future where he would take the scepter and white robes from his mentor’s hands, standing at the pinnacle of fame, wealth, and power under the witness of the city council's elite.

But that was not what he wanted.

And so, the little prince of the Galsworthy family, who had loved reading and was once favored by his elders, spent less than three months at the Temple of Hephaestus before acting like a wild horse breaking its tether. He ignored lectures, disregarded the rules set by the High Priest, and did as he pleased. With a sunny, cheerful smile that masked whether his chaotic behavior was intentional or accidental, he turned the solemn and dignified temple into a scene of constant upheaval.

Many speculated how long the notoriously stern and humorless High Priest would tolerate this troublemaker. From seven days to a month, then to a year, everyone had their own reasons and evidence. Yet, against all expectations, it was not until Edgar had been causing havoc for five years that the bald, middle-aged man of the Onions family summoned the problematic young priest alone.

Three days later, a rumor so absurd it couldn't possibly be true emerged from the Priests' Council: at the routine city council meeting in one month, the High Priest would, in the presence of all councilors, hand over the scepter and white robes—the symbols of authority over the Temple of Hephaestus—to Edgar Galsworthy, the new High Priest.

To hell with that!

Until that day arrived, no one in the Temple of Hephaestus truly took that unrealistic delusion seriously—with the exception of Edgar, of course. The new High Priest, having inherited the Primordial Fire from his predecessor, had been in a state of mental collapse for some time.

It was not because he had touched upon too many forbidden secrets, but simply because of his own ability. Yes, he had tried his hardest to avoid that destined future, but in the linearity of time, his avoidance had only facilitated its occurrence. If he hadn't displayed those sunny, charismatic leadership traits during those years, that worried, middle-aged man would never have placed him on the list of successors.

But there are no "ifs" in this world. Because he foresaw the future and wanted to change it, he deliberately acted in a way that was the exact opposite of the ascetic life of the temple—and it was precisely because of this sunny, optimistic demeanor that he caught the attention of the High Priest, leading to his selection in the fifth year.

It was hard to disentangle the cause and effect, and there were many such instances in Edgar's memory. Because of these detailed cases, he could be certain that any future confirmed by his eyes was as unchangeable as the fate woven by the ancestors.

This time was no different.

In the next few breaths, this battle would reach its conclusion.

And then... the fire he had guarded for over a decade would finally meet its end at the hands of the girl.

Three, two, one—

In the extreme calm, he even had the leisure to count down his own life.

When he reached one, the foreseen future arrived on schedule. The little girl with black hair and black eyes had locked down the disordered spatial jumps and short-range teleports with "Lethargy." With no flair, she struck a simple straight punch at his face. For less than a thousandth of a microsecond, the "Unbreakable" Mental Barrier shattered like glass. Following that, without feeling the slightest resistance, his three layers of defense crumbled. The fist grew larger and larger in his eyes...

Subconsciously, he closed his eyes, the former High Priest waiting for the arrival of death.

However, the Grim Reaper, who was never late, seemed to have been delayed this time.

He did not die.

The girl’s delicate, arrogant fist stopped at his brow, stopping without even kicking up a breeze.

"Why didn't you kill me?"

Edgar asked, his voice low and hoarse, the weakness within it clear even to himself.

Pandora gave no reply. The dark minister, possessing the appearance of a young child, simply pulled her fist back in silence. Even though she could have completely obliterated this far-from-troublesome enemy with less than a centimeter of further movement, she chose to retract her hand. Without even sparing him a glance, she walked straight toward the center of the collapsed ground, toward a circular altar built of marble.

Her target was the Flame.

The former High Priest was not overly surprised. He had known from the start that the enemy’s target was the Flame. As soon as the enemy invaded the Temple of Hephaestus, he had activated his ability and confirmed the future—the extinguishing of the Flame, the arrival of chaotic evils from the deep darkness beyond the sea, the awakening of the eternal, undying sleeper in R'lyeh, and the destruction of Hermetica.

The future had been confirmed through his eyes.

The destruction of Hermetica was irreversible; his previous efforts had been nothing more than a fool’s errand.

But so what?

At least he had passed on the seed of hope.

It was not hope for Hermetica; no one knew better than he, the keeper of the Flame, what a terrifying monster the Great Old One slumbering beneath the city was. With the ancestors long gone, even if the Knights and the Cults were to put aside their prejudices and cooperate, they could not defeat this ancient god born before the realm of Order.

Hermetica was beyond saving; everything he had told the boy was a lie.

The Primordial Fire was not left for this city destined to sink; it was left for Amy and Yulia, a glimmer of hope passed down to the last bloodline his sister left in the world.

Therefore, he must, he absolutely must survive!

He raised his hand toward the blinding sunlight, as if trying to grasp something.

Then he could not help but fall silent.

The former High Priest finally understood why Pandora had held back. No, perhaps "held back" was the wrong term, for that dark minister who walked the world in the form of a young girl had shown no real mercy. The reason she stopped was simply because... there was no need.

Yes, no need.

He no longer posed a threat, and he was dying.

His gaze rested on his arm against the sunlight; the muscles he had worked so hard to maintain had withered away, leaving only skin and bone. Though he could not see the rest of his body, he imagined it was much the same. His essential weakness was now fully exposed.

There was no need to waste time on a dying man.

Perhaps that was what she thought.

As the undisputed strongest in the mortal world, she existed on the ambiguous, blurred line between the mundane and the extraordinary, much like the Chosen Ones. Very few in the entire realm of Order could threaten her. Even if the power of the Flame had not been eroded over the dark millennium, and even if he were still in his prime with Duke’s combat experience and skills, he could, at best, only manage a stalemate.

Let alone now... he was nothing but a cripple.

But—

He was no ordinary cripple. He was a "super cripple" who possessed one hundred and twenty-seven abilities inherited from the succession of High Priests!

After all, among the one hundred and twenty-eight abilities he possessed, not a single one could hold Pandora back.

He could only watch as the girl walked toward the altar of the Flame, waiting for death in silence.

—As if!

Do not limit your thinking to one place. What he could do was not just obstruct the dark minister; he could also inform the entire population of Hermetica of the grave situation, including—but not limited to—the Glorified.

The ability "Heavenly Oracle," inherited from the second High Priest.

But before that, there was one more thing he had to do, even if it cost him his life.

That was to awaken his brother, to awaken Duke Galsworthy, the undisputed strongest man of Hermetica!

When the darkness descended, Hermetica would need him! It would need a hero to turn the tide, to lead everyone through the thorns and thistles, and to carve a path through the unknown darkness!

And so, emptying his mind, he activated the ability held by the seventy-ninth High Priest: Trans-dimensional Link.

Then, gently closing his eyes, he invoked the ability passed down from Brent Boswell—the first High Priest in Hermetica’s history, who had guarded the city against the Leviathan’s seven-seas-draining onslaught and was honored as a saint.

The ability listed as strictly forbidden.

—Sublime Sacrifice.