Against The True Gods

Caine looked up, meeting the World Will Eye's gaze with calm, unwavering resolve.

He could sense the turmoil within its gaze—uncertainty, hesitation. He had broken into the Essence Creation stage, meaning he should face the tests required of that level. But he had also ascended to the Quintessence Reckoning stage while his main star hovered at the half-step. The boundaries were blurred, making the situation ambiguous even for the world itself.

To see the world hesitate was fascinating to Caine. Was there truly a difference between mortals and the world? This thought danced through his mind. The ability to interact with the world's consciousness was astonishing enough, but to witness it display emotions and hesitation—this was something truly unique, something profound.

"What are you?"

The voice of the World Will Eye resonated, a question that was simple yet carried infinite weight.

The test of the Essence stage was an extension of the Will stage. After being able to look into the mirror of one's soul and accept oneself, the next step was to shatter that mirror and recreate the image, forging a reflection that embodied one's essence—to change oneself and truly bloom.

To define yourself.

But for Caine, just as with the previous test, this was laughably easy. Not because he had a clear answer, but because he found the question absurd.

To define himself? To define was to limit. No title could encompass his entirety. No word could capture all that he was, all that he had been, all that he would become, and all that he aspired to be. Enjoy exclusive chapters from empire

His silence was his answer. It was that simple.

The World Will Eye trembled, its form flickering. Then, without suspense or hesitation, it shattered into countless motes of light. The fragments descended, sinking into Caine, instantly devoured by his stars.

A soothing ripple of energy radiated from his stars. They settled, stabilizing fully, their power firmly rooted.

Time resumed its flow. In front of him, a swirling blue portal appeared—his exit.

It seemed his trials were complete. In truth, they had felt more like an intensive training sequence than anything else. But Caine wouldn't complain. He had gained invaluable insights, unlocked new power, and refined his understanding.

He sighed and tilted his head up, staring at the sky. A weight pressed onto his chest, subtle but insistent. 'Why am I so scared? What am I afraid of?'

An uneasy feeling gnawed at him. Something was coming. He didn't know what, but the sensation was familiar—like the moment when Theobald had offered him the supposed greatest god-crafts in existence.

It felt as though the invisible grip of fate was tightening around his neck, a silent noose slowly closing in. The suffocating dread of inevitability. He felt like an ant marching toward a trap, helpless to resist, his instincts screaming but his mind unable to comprehend the danger.

It was as if someone were controlling his hands, forcing them to strangle him. As if the world itself were closing in, crushing him under its weight.

'Fate.'

The word echoed in his mind.

'Fate. Fate. Fate.'

The word repeated, louder each time, until it was a cacophony tearing at his thoughts. Panic threatened to overwhelm him. His breath quickened, his heart pounded, but then—his Will flared, a beacon of light cutting through the storm. His mind settled, the chaos subsiding.

Caine's fingers dug into the flesh of his chest, his face contorted into a frown, his pupils trembling. He didn't understand what was happening.

He sighed once more and rose to his feet. Pulling his upper robes on, he approached the portal. His gaze, a swirl of chaotic and unreadable emotions, fixed ahead.

The Ancestral Trial Grounds had been conquered.

***

It had only been moments since Caine vanished through the portal, and Ancestor Tallow smiled, the other ancestors chuckling in relief and triumph.

WHOOSH!

Ancestor Tallow's gaze sharpened as he looked up. Black, white, and silver feathers began drifting from the sky, and from the depths of the clouds, a figure appeared.

Caine descended, his wings outstretched, blotting out the sky. His gaze, though calm, held an elusive essence. A flicker of melancholic warmth glimmered within his eyes, stirring the hearts of all who looked upon him. A deep, inexplicable sadness bloomed in their souls, leaving them breathless.

Even Ancestor Tallow felt his composure waver. The sight of Caine's angelic form, his ethereal presence, was almost overwhelming. An urge to reach out to the sky—to touch that fleeting radiance—gripped him.

Ancestor Tallow frowned and shook his head, snapping out of the trance. 'What a terrifyingly potent aura… or is it intent?'

Caine descended slowly, his aura soft yet commanding. When his feet touched the ground, his wings dissolved into the wind.

Zao rushed forward immediately, his eyes scanning Caine for any injuries, unconcerned about appearances. Caine chuckled, placing a reassuring hand on his uncle's shoulder.

"I'm alright. Aren't I here?"

Zao, still taller than his nephew, looked down with a steady, knowing gaze. He could see the storm raging behind Caine's eyes, a stark contrast to his serene exterior.

"We'll talk later."

Zao sighed, patting Caine's shoulder before stepping behind him. He straightened his changpao, adjusted his glasses, and slicked his hair back, adopting the stance of a vigilant guard.

Caine's expression softened. His gaze shifted to Ancestor Tallow, who still wore a deep frown. The man's eyes reflected disbelief. He clearly hadn't expected Caine to survive. And yet, here he stood.

Ancestor Tallow remained silent for a moment before waving his hand. The arena stands opened, and the spectators flooded in, forming a circle around Caine and Zao.

Another wave of his hand, and a golden crown materialized.

BANG!

The spectators dropped to their knees, arms crossed over their chests, their voices ringing out in unison.

"We greet His Royal Highness, Scion Lerouge!"

The ancestors knelt as well, their voices solemn.

"We, the Pillars of the Alliance, recognize His Royal Highness, Scion Lerouge."

Ancestor Tallow floated toward Caine, their eyes locking. He nodded, a gesture of acknowledgment, before placing the crown gently on Caine's head.

Then he stepped back and knelt. Zao followed suit.

The weight of the crown pressed down on Caine's brow. He tilted his head up, his eyes catching the light of the sun. For a fleeting moment, his gaze glazed over, moisture glimmering before vanishing—burnt away by the intensity of his heart.

"We acknowledge and greet His Highness, Scion Lerouge!"

Their voices echoed like a hymn. Caine closed his eyes, letting the moment wash over him.

The throne was his.