Chapter 549 - 493: Plucking the String of Destiny

Chapter 549: Chapter 493: Plucking the String of Destiny

"Phaethon?"

As the being announced its name, Roland immediately recalled the cold warning in the description of his [Time Traveler] Trait.

His "unreasonable" meddling in the river of time had already drawn the attention of this entity.

And from its own statement, its duty seemed to be that of a guardian of time, maintaining some kind of established Order.

’In that case...’

"Leave this place..."

Roland’s heart sank.

He wasn’t naive enough to think that Phaethon’s "leave" simply meant departing the Aiselon Continent.

Combining this with the baffling connection between himself and "Rudolph," a chilling deduction cut through the fog like a lightning bolt:

’So... I become "Rudolph" not because of my deathmatch with Yemiga, but... because I was "cleansed" or "expelled" by Phaethon and thrown back in time?’

The thought made his breath catch in his throat.

Previously, after learning about Yemiga, the "World Serpent," he had always believed that the catalyst for him crossing over and becoming Rudolph was the fierce battle with this Artificial God who held the Authority of Space-Time.

That was why, after the real battle broke out, he had desperately tried to get his companions to retreat.

When the fight reached its climax, he had even done everything in his power to keep Yemiga’s attention firmly locked on him.

After all, if history showed that "Roland" became "Rudolph" and was active in the past, it at least proved that he himself wouldn’t die right now. His companions, however, were another story entirely.

He had even harbored a sliver of hope that he could crush Yemiga with a thunderous strike and break the fated trajectory that "must" lead him back to the past.

However, the indifferent eye that had replaced the sky, and Phaethon’s "cleansing" might that transcended the Authority of the Gods, completely crushed all his deductions and hopes.

Everything had gone off the expected track.

The truth was far more profound than a battle with a Pseudo-God, and far more...

...unsettling.

Roland took a long, deep breath, as if trying to suppress the accumulated shock and powerlessness in his chest.

Then, fighting through the excruciating pain and exhaustion that made his body feel like it was about to fall apart, he used the last of his strength to slowly rise from the cold dust.

He plunged "Bright Moon" deep into the ground, using the sword as a cane to support his swaying body. Then, with an undeniable resolve, he took half a step forward.

He positioned himself between his bewildered companions and the inhuman eye.

Roland’s mind tensed like a fully drawn Bowstring. His gaze locked onto the pale, cyan vertical pupil, and every inch of muscle and nerve in his body went on high alert.

Facing this existence that touched upon the Laws of the world—or perhaps was the embodiment of a Law itself—he had no intention of surrendering without a fight.

’It’s not like I don’t have a fighting chance.’

The thought settled like a cold iron stone deep within his consciousness, which was nearly burned out yet still stubbornly clinging on.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at the Professional Panel that was always floating in his vision, visible only to him.

His will focused, piercing through the exhaustion and pain, and landed on the Trait he had never dared to use lightly since acquiring it—the one whose description felt like it was bound by heavy Chains.

[Fate Deviation].

Its description transgressed the boundaries of mortal Power, pointing directly at the unseen "Rules" and "possibilities" that formed the foundation of the world’s operation.

This was not a Power of creation or Destruction, but something far stranger and more dangerous: an interference with the web of "chance" and "certainty."

During his arduous battle with Yemiga, even when pushed to the brink and resorting to soul-Burning Dragonification, he had never used this power.

He was confident that his own ever-growing Power, which integrated various qualities, was enough to suppress and eventually defeat the Artificial God.

The only difference was the amount of time it would take and the price he would have to pay.

But if [Fate Deviation] were used, the resulting chain reaction and the cost to be paid would likely far exceed the damage from fighting Yemiga.

It wasn’t just a physical burden, but a heavy pressure that acted directly on the soul and the level of "causality."

But now, things were different.

Phaethon’s existence presented a completely different kind of threat—an existential threat of erasure originating from "Order" itself.

Even if he couldn’t change the established fact or future trajectory of being "expelled" into the past to become Rudolph, he would absolutely not allow his companions to be annihilated here and now because of him.

’At the very least... at the very least, I have to save them.’

His mind was made up; there was no more hesitation.

Roland focused his mind, channeling his remaining, almost-depleted Spiritual Power like wringing out the last drop of water, slowly pouring it into and touching that dormant Trait...

The next moment, a subtle change occurred.

There was no earth-shattering explosion of Energy, no terrifying distortion of light and shadow.

The first thing that changed was Roland’s own "vision."

Deep within his bloodshot eyes, which had returned to their human color after the Dragonification faded, an extremely faint, silvery-white speck of light quietly ignited, then spread out like a drop of ink in still water.

The way the world appeared to him began to shift in a subtle yet fundamental way.

The ruins were still ruins, the dust was still dust, and the pale, cyan vertical pupil in the sky still emanated a suffocating pressure.

But superimposed over all this "reality," he "saw" something else.

Countless "threads," so fine they were almost illusory, shimmered with a cold, silver light.

They were not physical entities, but rather abstract existences formed from the instantaneous crystallization of pure possibility, probability, and faint causality.

They were everywhere, yet seemed to exist in another dimension.

From the trajectory of every falling speck of dust, to the slight tremor of a loose stone on a distant broken wall, to the faint rise and fall of his companions’ breathing and heartbeats behind him...

He could even faintly "see" several "lines" around Phaethon’s indifferently hovering eye that were grander, more solid, and far more untouchable—like giant silver pillars supporting the sky.

This was the "web of probability" described by [Fate Deviation], the momentary manifestation of the infinite possibilities behind the movement of all things and the occurrence of all events.

He could "feel" an extremely fragile and dangerous "connection" forming between himself and some of the finer silver threads that had a faint link to him or his companions.

A tremor and immense pressure welled up from the depths of his soul, as if he had grasped the end of a red-hot chain with his bare hands. The mere act of perceiving it sent a soul-searing sting and an unbearable weight through him.

He hadn’t actually "plucked" a single thread yet.

But the initial signs of the forbidden ability [Fate Deviation] had already appeared.

The air seemed to grow thicker. An indescribable sense of unease, as if being "watched" from a higher dimension, began to faintly permeate the frozen ruins and the silent standoff.

And at the very instant that the forbidden fluctuations of [Fate Deviation] emanated from Roland...

...the pure "gaze" of the massive, indifferent, pale cyan vertical pupil in the sky, which was like an embodiment of the Law itself, seemed to...

...pause, ever so slightly.

Roland clearly "saw" an indescribable stagnation appear in the center of the inhuman eye.

It wasn’t an emotional hesitation, but more like an absolutely precise instrument instantly triggering a rescan and evaluation process upon detecting an unplanned parameter.

Following that, the absolute pressure that enveloped the world and froze all things in place perceptibly weakened.

While still as heavy as a mountain, it no longer carried the sharp, destructive intent of an imminent "cleansing" that was ready to be unleashed.

It was as if a great bow had been drawn to its fullest, but the Power on the Bowstring had not dissipated.

Yet the urgent feeling of an "Arrow on the string, ready to fly" had subtly eased.

The Arrow was once again held steady, its release suspended.

The turbulence in Space-Time also subsided.

’Now!’

Roland endured the sharp pain and heavy burden in his soul from peeking at and attempting to interfere with the "web of probability." He focused all of his concentration on the magnificent, pillar-like silver "threads" surrounding the giant eye.

The vision of [Fate Deviation] whirred madly, analyzing.

In an instant, amidst the countless cold silver threads symbolizing "certainty," "cleansing," and "Order," he caught a glimpse of...

...an anomaly.

There was one "thread" that was neither the most central nor the most powerful. But after that moment of stagnation in Phaethon’s eye, it began to tremble ever so slightly, out of sync with the rhythm of its surroundings.

More importantly, its color.

It wasn’t pure silvery-white, but had shifted to a faint orange-yellow, like the afterglow of a sunset.

’Is that... its... some kind of... wavering... "hesitation"?’

Roland couldn’t accurately describe the feeling in words.

It wasn’t an emotion or a thought. It was more like a state of "logical redundancy" or "decision-branch evaluation" that occurred when a supreme Rule encountered an external variable during its operation.

In the vision of [Fate Deviation], this state was abstracted and visualized as a uniquely colored, faintly trembling "thread."

The opportunity was fleeting!

His thoughts raced like lightning; Roland didn’t hesitate for a second.

He knew that any delay would cause this ephemeral "thread" to disappear back into the cold, silvery torrent.

So, he quickly summoned all the will and residual Power he could muster, raising a hand that felt as heavy as a mountain toward that orange-yellow "thread."

In that moment, time seemed to stretch infinitely, and yet also stand completely still.

There was no Spell, no brilliant light, no rush of Energy.

There was only Roland’s absolute, focused will, channeled through the dangerous gateway of [Fate Deviation] and transformed into an incorporeal, intangible, yet incredibly precise "force."

Toward that distant orange-yellow thread, the one symbolizing Phaethon’s fleeting "hesitation," he gave an extremely light...

...pluck.

HUMMM!

A low hum, not one that resounded in the material world but one that vibrated directly at the soul level, at the foundation of Space-Time, and even in higher dimensions, suddenly erupted.

Originating from where Roland had plucked it, the orange-yellow thread began to vibrate violently.

Almost at the exact instant the pluck was complete, Roland, as if struck by a Thunderbolt, violently spat out a large mouthful of scalding blood.

The blood wasn’t bright red, but was mixed with strange specks of silver light and a dark, ashen color.

The price was paid instantly.

His already weak body suddenly hunched over. The color instantly drained from his skin, leaving it as pale as paper, even showing a faint, deathly gray hue.

Countless fine, web-like bloody marks, like cracks in porcelain, appeared under the skin at the corners of his eyes, his mouth, and even on the arm holding his sword.

Even more terrifying was the damage to his soul.

He felt as if a piece of his consciousness had been forcibly torn away and thrown into a bottomless Void.

The intense feeling of emptiness and the tearing pain made his vision darken, and he was on the verge of fainting.

Just by plucking a single "thread" and interfering with one "possibility," the backlash was so terrifying it nearly claimed his life on the spot.

But the effect was also immediate.

In the sky, the light of "hesitation" inside the pale, cyan vertical pupil suddenly intensified.

The Space-Time that had been calming down became slightly turbulent again. Its suspended will to "cleanse" seemed to be further delayed by a subtle internal disturbance, even falling into a deeper state of stagnation.