Chapter 292: 292. William questions the goddess – 3

“How can a mortal kill a god?” William asked, deliberately keeping his tone neutral.

He made sure that his voice did not carry even a trace of hostility or reckless intent that might offend, switch the ok-ish behaviour that the goddess showed.

Of course, what he asked was not a question born out of arrogance, nor did he wish to appear like someone who had lost his sanity. However, beneath that calm exterior, there was a clear purpose driving his curiosity.

If he were to stand against Lux one day and avenge his father, then he needed the answer, ofcourse he could do it by becoming a god himself, but that was a much more difficult option since the gods had blocked the ascension path. Going against one god was easier than multiple gods unless he found another way to achieve godhood.

At his question, Xythia seemed to momentarily withdraw from her earlier train of thought. Her gaze settled on William with a mixture of surprise and faint disbelief, as though she were trying to determine whether he was foolish… or simply daring beyond reason.

Did he truly understand what he was asking? Killing a god by a mortal went beyond reason and the nature of existence itself.

Was he someone who had unknowingly stepped onto a path that would inevitably lead to his destruction?

For a brief moment, silence stretched between them as Xythia considered her response. She did not answer immediately. Instead, she carefully weighed what she should reveal after all William had held back significant information about the strange energy, yet he had given her a reasonable answer.

This mortal was not ordinary.

That much had already been established.

The strange energy he wielded was something even she could not comprehend, and the moment when this mortal used that energy was etched in her memory and served as a reminder that underestimating him would be a mistake.

And in her long existence, she had come to understand one fundamental truth: ignorance was often the root of fear and the destruction of oneself. After a moment of contemplation, she arrived at a decision.

If he chose to answer her in cryptic ways, then she would do the same.

“There are many ways to kill a god,” Xythia started answering, “However, the method depends largely on the existence plane you belong to.”

William listened intently, not allowing a single word to slip past his attention.

“For a mortal residing in a lower existence plane,” she continued, “the task is nearly impossible if the disparity between planes is too great. The gap itself becomes an insurmountable barrier.”

“However, if the god in question originates from an upper *adjacent* realm – one that is closest in hierarchy – then there exists a theoretical possibility, although no one in my knowledge has achieved such a feat.”

She paused briefly before delivering the crucial piece of information.

“You must either seek the assistance of the gatekeeper of your plane… or become the gatekeeper yourself. Only then will you possess the authority required to kill such a being.”

Xythia completed her answer with that.

“This is one of the ways. The rest… I will not share.”

William’s mind immediately began working through the meaning behind her words.

*A gatekeeper…*

The term was not unfamiliar, yet its application in this context raised more questions than answers. On a basic level, a gatekeeper was someone who guarded an entrance – someone who controlled passage, one who decided who was allowed to enter and who was not.

If that concept extended to an existence plane, then such a being would likely govern the boundaries of that plane itself.

But what exactly was an existence plane?

Was she referring to the Aris continent alone… or the entire world?

And if it was the latter, then did that imply the presence of other continents… or perhaps even entirely separate realms connected under a broader structure?

The possibilities branched endlessly, each one leading to further uncertainty.

William felt as if he had been told the exact way, yet so cryptically that he would not be able to use the information without his own efforts.

Still, even a direction was valuable.

He memorized the answer carefully in his mind, knowing that its true significance would reveal itself in time.

As the exchange continued, his attention returned to the golden scale between them. It had shifted once more, tilting further in Xythia’s favor. The imbalance had grown even more, and William understood that he would need to correct it soon.

Next, Xythia asked the next question.

“How did you remove the curse of that ancient being? How were you able to cheat fate?” she asked, her voice filled with curiosity now.

Her question clearly indicated that Xythia knew that William had interfered with fate.

William hesitated internally.

Even he did not fully understand the whole picture behind what had happened. The only clue he possessed was the fate immunity granted by his talent, and that was a secret he had no intention of revealing to a goddess.

Instead, he needed to provide an answer that satisfied the oath… while revealing nothing of real value, he thought deeply about fate immunity. What did it make him then if he was immune to fate? And then what was even his destiny??

He wondered how to frame his answer, something that sounded profound enough to move the scale, yet remained impossible to decipher for a goddess.

After a brief pause, William let out a soft chuckle. He was about to try something funny, A thought that just popped up in his mind out of nowhere, but felt strong and significant.

So William took a deep breath and answered.

“Because that is my destiny,”

“I am fateless.”

The moment those words left his lips, the world reacted.

The golden balance scale trembled violently.

Then, as if compelled by an unseen force, it shifted entirely, its arm bowed completely toward William’s side as if paying respect, far beyond what should have been possible under normal circumstances.

At the same time, far removed from this plane, Xythia’s true body, seated within her divine sanctum, was struck by a sudden and overwhelming pain.

A sharp, piercing agony erupted within her mind.

She rose abruptly from her throne, her composure shattered as she clutched her head. Her steps faltered, her balance broke, and she stumbled forward with the support of her armrest.

Golden blood began to seep from her ears.

She screamed in pain as if she had been struck by divine thunder, though her astral projection, the version of her standing before William, remained perfectly still, betraying none of the turmoil she was experiencing.

Something about those words…

Something about *fateless*…

It had triggered a reaction far beyond what she had anticipated.

Elsewhere…

seven layers beneath the current existence planes….

A different disturbance unfolded.

In a hellish world illuminated by an inverted crimson star, grotesque creatures writhink as they were slowly cooked by unbearable heat. The barren red landscape seemed alive, pulsating with an unsettling vitality like a parasite.

At the center of this world lay a cavern of flesh-like walls that throbbed rhythmically, as though breathing.

Within it, a pool of bubbling purple liquid churned ominously.

Then, without warning, something emerged from the pool.

A head which was severed… yet alive.

Its expression twisted into a chilling smile as it rose slowly from the depths of the pool, levitating into the air.

Its gaze lifted toward the red star above. From its eyes flowed thick, black blood, similar to the blood of demons, yet this existence was far more sinister than demons, something that could even eat itself to satiate itself.

Meanwhile, on Aris, within the Riverdale Empire…

In Opera Town, life had begun to stabilize after the devastation that had once ravaged it. The scars of the past still lingered, yet the people had started to rebuild. Though the population remained sparse, there was a sense of recovery in the minds of natives.

Inside a modest tavern, filled with the soft murmur of conversation and the clinking of cups, a female bard stood at the center, singing. Her voice carried warmth, weaving melodies that eased the hearts of those who listened.

But suddenly, she stopped.

The room fell into a brief, confused silence.

Then, suddenly, thunder rumbled from outside.

The bard let out a chuckle and addressed everyone.

“I shall start with a new song,” she announced.

A small child, carrying a wooden sword strapped awkwardly to his back, stepped forward with excitement shining in his eyes.

“Miss Fate! What is the new song called?” he asked eagerly.

The bard, dressed in green adventurer robes, smiled gently at him.

Her eyes held a depth that indicated happiness and relief.

“It is called…” she said softly,

“The Age of Gods.”

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