The Conquerors Path

Chapter 1007: Chapter 1005-Death Is Gothic?

With a flash, my vision was restored, though the moment I got a sense of where I was, my senses were blasted with a lot of things all at once.

"Urgh...!"

The struggling word indeed fell from my lips as I felt the collective cries of pain, despair, anger, disbelief, unfairness and all the calls being given out towards the call of death itself. It’s like I could feel the accumulated calls of unfairness swirling around that the lost souls feel towards death, the unfairest certainty that lives.

Because death is fair and unfair at the same time.

Death is fair for it finds and gets everyone in the end, but it’s unfair for the fact that it might take the life of a sound, innocent child starving in the streets, yet lets the fat, ugly, pig-like noble profiting off it live. It’s fair yet unfair, and I was feeling the calls of such people, their anger, hatred-like things formed around the souls clinging to me, begging at me.

[Focus!]

The sound of the system broke me out of my pain, giving me a moment of focus.

[The calls of death are overwhelming you! You need to rise above them! You are a God! As half-assed as it is! So don’t let the souls and calls of those below you affect you, guide them or crush them under you; let the arrogance take over! You died once, your affinity to death itself that opposes life is high! Overcome them! Get above them!]

The cast ringing at me, the words guiding me as I closed my eyes for a moment, slowly straightening my back as I let my arrogance, the one I constantly keep in check, slowly flow through my body. The side of corruption, the power of life swirling around, this death energy could feel it, the pulses could feel it. I am the Prince of Life; they wish to snatch the life I have, to break me, to take away life. They wish for me to give them life, to raise them above, to bring them back.

Cause just like Death, Life is fair and unfair...

It gives you birth indeed, but it also guides your life, cause at times being born is never the best thing. You could be born into the most evil family that won’t hesitate to give you the worst life throughout your life, or you could be born into the best family that will give you the most pampered life ever.

The life that births you guides the life you live.

In that way, the power of Life in itself is fair yet unfair.

The words and whispers that Orpheus whispers into my ears at times filling me, and at the same time as someone dead, the one that felt the despair of death, I understood why they call it with the functions of unfair.

I died once, and when I woke up, all that was left to me was the despair of what I had left behind, but life in here gave me another path, one filled with lust, love, fears and more, that unravelled another side of me. Death took me, but it gave me into another life that has changed me. As someone who had been gifted with both, I understood in depth where these calls come from.

Slowly, I raised my right hand, my finger slightly drawing around the surroundings, it shifting, turning and twisting the whole atmosphere, like a painter and with the last stroke, I snapped my fingers, and then suddenly only silence fell to me. The ringing in my head stopped, and the calls and fears rumbling over my body disappeared. I smiled as I, focusing my senses, finally was able to look around.

That’s quite the cliché.

I thought as I looked at the huge black gothic castle in front of me, all around me were dead black trees as far as the eye could see. Right now, I am standing on a path that leads directly to the black castle, the doors wide open for me, and above, I hear the cries of crows.

Caw... Caw... Caw...

Looking around, I could already see the crows flying around, their eyes focused on me. Suddenly, I’m feeling like I am in some sort of old-fashioned horror movie, my eyes taking it all in. What feels even worse is that I feel kinda sick, like I am lacking underwater or something, a disgusting feeling, like the fight versus death and life taking place.

[The blessing of Life that makes you prince is acting up here, your own divinity is far suppressed because your quality hasn’t risen to supreme yet, so the highest one—Life—is taking place, plus Life and Death always had more of a rivalry in such and as its price, you can’t fall back here and now.]

Feeling the words and remembering the love Orpheus has for me, I couldn’t be the one to let her down now as I straightened my back even more, my body feeling a stretch of it as I kept my own divine powers at bay, as I tapped into the light of life that always fills me. Soon, in itself, a beautiful crown that seemed to be made of wood formed around my head.

A gentle green light surged around me, and for the moment, a gentle green light lit up in my eyes, swirling all around me as I smiled. I could see with my eyes a dark black light lighting up, seemingly hating it and forming around me, like wanting to suck the life out of me. I waved my hand, the death in itself feeling like an ally for a moment, even though I embody life.

Feeling the contradictory moments and emotions around me, I surfaced with a combination of Life and Death as I started to move through the paved road in front of me, walking through it as I entered the castle. In all, I felt more of the dark black designs all around me, the sounds of my steps sounding out as I walked through the vast hallway.

Like, even through the place, I don’t see any doors at all. In fact, there are no doors but just the vast hallway I am walking through, and soon I arrived at an open door. Getting in, I reached the throne room. Coming inside, my eyes landed upon the stunningly goth-like girl in front of me.

Feeling the contradictory swirl of Life and Death pulsing through my veins, I surfaced from the cut-space and stepped onto the cold paved road. The air grew heavier, thicker, laced with the scent of decaying roses and frost-kissed marble. I moved through the vast, doorless hallway of her obsidian castle, my footsteps echoing like distant funeral bells against the black-veined walls that seemed to drink in every scrap of light.

No doors. Just endless shadowed corridors that whispered promises of oblivion. Soon the hallway opened into the throne room, and there she was.

The Goddess of Death herself.

’Damn... that is so fucking unfair.’

She looked barely more than a girl—late teens at most, perhaps seventeen in mortal years, with that delicate, petite frame. But I knew better. This eternal being had outlived stars and swallowed entire civilisations.

Her hair was a living waterfall of midnight black, tumbling down her back in wild, glossy waves that seemed to absorb light itself. Her eyes were bottomless abysses of pure black, no whites, no irises, just endless voids that promised to sip the soul right out of your body while you begged for more. They locked onto nothing and everything at once, pulling at the life force in my chest.

Her lips were painted the deepest, wettest black, plump and slightly parted, glistening as if freshly licked. A delicate silver nose ring glinted against her skin, matching the spiked black earrings that dangled from her lobes like tiny instruments of pleasurable torment. Her nails were long, razor-sharp, and painted the same void-black, clicking softly against the pages of the book she held.

She wore a gothic masterpiece of a dress—layers of sheer black silk and lace that clung to her inhumanly perfect little body like a second skin made of night. It was cut low and scandalously tight across her chest, accentuating what should have been modest but somehow looked obscenely tempting: small, perky tits that sat high and proud on her narrow ribcage, the faintest swell pressing against the fabric, nipples visibly stiff and dark beneath the thin material.

Her skin was a breathtaking pale grey—smooth as polished marble. Not quite human. Too flawless, too cool to the touch, I imagined. It made her look like a living statue carved for sin: delicate collarbones, a tiny waist you could span with both hands, and hips that flared just enough to be utterly sinful. A spiked black choker hugged her slender throat, the points pressing lightly into that grey flesh.

She lounged sideways on the massive throne like she owned every shadow in existence, one leg dangling lazily over the armrest, the other bent beneath her. No shoes—her bare feet were small and elegant, toes painted the same sinful black, adorned with a thin bangle etched in glowing, forbidden runes that pulsed like dying heartbeats.

The hem of her dress had ridden high up her thighs, revealing long, slender legs that looked deceptively fragile but carried the quiet strength of inevitability. Between those thighs, the black lace of her dress barely concealed the smooth, hairless mound of her pussy—tight, petite, and somehow radiating that same deathly allure.

Everything about her screamed forbidden temptation wrapped in gothic perfection. The way her small breasts rose and fell with slow, unnecessary breaths. The subtle curve of her tight little ass pressing into the throne. The faint, icy aura that made the air around her crackle with frost and raw sexual dread. She was petite, almost doll-like, yet every inch of her petite frame radiated dangerous, otherworldly sex appeal—built for slow, soul-shattering corruption rather than raw power.

She didn’t even glance up at first, lost in her book, treating the entire world (including me) like insignificant specks of fleeting meat.

I cleared my throat.

"Cough... Hello?"

The moment the sound left my lips, her abyss-black eyes lifted from the page and fixed directly on me.

The world tilted.

Life itself seemed to stutter in my veins. A slow, predatory little smile curved those black lips, revealing the faintest hint of too-sharp canines.

’What a beautiful pair of eyes.’