Read Novel Full Chapter 363: Stronger Resolve
Chapter 363: Stronger Resolve
A huge humanoid white wolf clad in black armour and a long mane dragged a slightly curved sword through a devastated terrain with destroyed mountains, rifts all over the ground which lots of trees had fallen into.
"Damascus... is dead?" The wolf growled. It could only wait for now, but soon, very soon, it shall seek out his regent’s killer.
***
While that ancient god resumed its activity, Godfrey remained on one knee, his head bent over as sweat trickled down in heavy drops, his eyes dull.
He had always wondered why the strong were so different, so aloof in the perspective of the weak.
Once upon a time, he thought it was all about strength. Now he knew it wasn’t. Being stronger comes with its own burdens; you see things, feel things.
The cruel reality the weak never saw is laid bare before your eyes. You either side with it or fight against it and risk being crushed.
Strength didn’t eliminate problems.
Godfrey collapsed. Dirge, Ballista, and Goliath were gone the moment the last of his mana dried out.
His eyes slowly narrowed as he gazed at the sun. ’The sun... isn’t it supposed to be hot?’ Godfrey asked as he barely felt its heat.
What Damascus had shown him was his future; that he died during the Ruination Stage. Meaning, in two months, maybe less, maybe more, death awaited.
So why fight? Why continue if the future already says he dies?
Was it weird that he missed those days in school where it was only about stomping down on those weaker, with shallow emotions?
Godfrey knew this earlier, but it became clearer now. What occurred in Manhattan Summoner’s High was the surface of the deep cruelty this world had festered into.
They all came from parents who had already fed their doctrines to their children, into a school where the teachers were scared of what their parents could do. The weak had no one to back them, and when that cruelty had festered enough, they gained strength, maybe through the mana tree, and stomped on those that had once done the same.
And so, the cycle repeated. Few like him were beaten and beaten, physically and emotionally, until they became like the rest of the world.
Maybe he should have remained a normal human, but was that even a choice?
When his life had been planned from the beginning?
It was like with each step of the way, any form of happiness was being ripped away from his being. The world seemed to take pleasure in his sadness.
To ensure he descended into madness.
"Who knew the strong felt pain?" Godfrey sat up. "I guess they just flaunted their summons and skills and refused to tell us what they have to go through. All I saw back then was Isolde’s powerful summons, not the torture she went through."
Or maybe he couldn’t call himself that. He couldn’t call himself strong.
Godfrey’s resolve shook for the first time. Within him, he knew what Damascus revealed would soon come to pass. According to his fate, his existence would end in the Ruination.
Like countless other Chosen Ones and worlds, he would fail.
It wasn’t anything new... right?
Godfrey laughed, his voice weak and hollow. What pained him so much? What hurt his heart so deeply?
Was it his mother, or the fact that it had just been slapped right in his face that death awaited him no matter what?
"The old man was right. I guess those stronger feel greater pain. Maybe if I was weaker, I would have thought I’m not strong enough, but I’m already at the peak of the Titled god Tier, the peak of everything at this moment, and you’re telling me I’m still helpless?!"
He hung his head low.
’Chosen One? What a farce. Might as well call me the Doomed Fates One if all I’ll be fed is that my future is dark and bleak.’
He scowled, eyes hardening.
Then Godfrey rose to his feet, swaying from side to side. ’Is this world really this cruel, or is it just me? I once wanted to get stronger to protect my mother, but she’s just the incarnation of the originator of all this. However, the mana tree took the form of a woman just to produce a child, a child that she placed the burden of a centuries-old order on and would sacrifice to her Favoured One just to satisfy her goal.’
Even she lacked faith that he would achieve it and had better hopes with Cain. Of course, she merged the order with him; if it didn’t work, she would merge him and the order with Cain.
That was two Chosen entities working for one Favoured One.
How appealing.
’Barely nineteen, yet I feel like I’ve lived a hundred years. My mind is heavy, the path to my goal grows darker, but my will can’t be broken. I will grab onto it even in my dying breath; even if I’m being ripped apart, my fingers shall never let go. I will still rise. I might as well carry that burden that gives others hope. Isn’t that what the weight of the crown entails?’
Three years. It’s just been three years since he awakened, and his life was about to be snuffed out. Was death the only way?
No!
It wasn’t!
These existences, Cain, the mana tree, and whatever god out there scheming and manipulating, all had strength, and their strength gave him pain.
That told him all he needed to know. The journey to his destination might be extremely gruesome, but he would get there.
No one had to believe in him; their doubt and schemes didn’t matter.
So long as he saw a new day, his ambition would burn stronger. And maybe, just maybe, he would find what he sought at that place where no one had stepped in.
Even with ragged breath, his eyes hardened with resolve. Godfrey refused to allow himself to break. All this pain he felt was metamorphosis; he was transforming into something.
He was in the forge, under the blacksmith’s merciless hammering and the unforgiving heat of the fire. Yes, his future said he would die in the Ruination, but he knew about it now.
A good chunk of information about the Ruination was in his head. Godfrey had foreknowledge, and that knowledge meant advantage; it meant the future wasn’t set in stone.
As long as he planned, it could be changed.
He fell on one knee, grabbed Damascus’ core, then saw a purple core gleaming under the sand a few metres away.