Chapter 87: Destiny [1]

Impulses are weird things.

They make you do things you would normally hesitate to do.

Like punching your girlfriend’s friend because he was talking nonsense and smiling at you smugly. Or breaking your brand-new phone in anger because you lost a damn game.

I’ve always considered myself a sane and rational person. Across two lives, I have never—never, except for a few… strategically ignored incidents—let impulse take the wheel.

But right now?

Right now, at this annoyingly and comically screwed moment, I was having trouble holding back an impulse so strong it felt like the universe itself was daring me to act.

An impulse to punch the smug smile off the gorgeous lady in front of me.

A lady who just happened to be a cosmic trickster cosplaying as Morvana.

So how did I get here, in this sacred moment of self-restraint demolition?

Simple.

A few moments ago, the Trickster looked me dead in the soul and said he would tell me everything.

And to understand it all, I first needed to hear about her—some mysterious bitch he clearly hated with holy enthusiasm.

Naturally, I was interested.

I mean, it’s not every day that I get to enjoy some cosmic drama.

So I listened carefully.

And then this bastard had the gall to say he could not tell me anything about her.

Then why the fuck did you hype her up in the first place?

“Didn’t you promise to tell me everything?” I asked calmly.

“Yes, I did, didn’t I?” That bastard giggled like he made some joke.

Calm down, Rael.

Calm down.

I forced myself to breathe like I was stuck in some cheesy spiritual retreat, because I knew better than to lash out at someone who could obliterate a million versions of me with a snap.

“Then?” I asked again, my grip tightening around the cup I had just drunk from.

“I can tell you names and things,” he said, his smile stretching into something unsettling. “But are you sure that your mortal brain wouldn’t explode from all that?”

Well… he does have a point.

Hearing about deities or the world’s dirty secrets at my current level could very well pop my skull like an overripe fruit.

But then again, couldn’t he have mentioned that from the start?

Why hype her up like he was about to drop the prologue of the apocalypse, only to pull the ’your brain might explode’ card after?

For once, I actually thought he would use some convenient cheat power to make sure I didn’t die just by listening.

Yeah. My bad for expecting that.

So much for optimism.

“Let’s start with your first question, how I knew you would die in that forest.”

The Trickster leaned forward.

“You see, Rael… I knew that bitch—the one I mentioned earlier—would make arrangements to kill you before your awakening. That’s why I left a fragment of my soul inside you.”

His eyes held a cold glint.

“And I was right. She manipulated Ragnar—the dragon I stripped of his power and left as a guardian—and turned him into her pawn.”

He continued.

“All so he could regain a fragment of his strength, seize the Card of Arcana and kill you before you ever laid a hand on it.”

The Trickster’s eyes sharpened, the playfulness gone just for a moment.

“She never wanted any successor of mine to walk this world.”

Yeah… that was more than a little concerning.

Some cosmic psychopathic bitch was after me for being the successor of a dead god…

… and worst of all, I had no idea who she was.

Sure, I knew a handful of goddesses from the novels, but most of them were psychopaths anyway, so playing guess-who sounded like a losing game.

Hell, I didn’t even know all the gods that existed.

I only knew the mainstream ones, especially the ones backing the residents of Nytharrea.

The Allied Sovereign Species or ASS for short, had their own pantheon too and I knew basically nothing about most of them.

Before I could spiral further, the Trickster spoke again. “But, worry not, as she doesn’t even know your identity anymore.”

“What do you mean?” I narrowed my eyes.

She knew I’d be in that forest. She manipulated that Ragbar or whatever the hell his name was, so how does she not know who I am?

“Don’t worry too much about cosmic happenings, Rael…” The Trickster’s voice shifted, losing its usual mockery. “What you know is only the surface of the sea you’re diving into.”

His gaze turned almost solemn.

“Just think of it as an arrangement I made to make sure my successor would have time to grow without caring for all this divine bullshit for at least a few years.”

“The Heavenly Principles won’t allow the gods to interfere or peer into the mortal world for some time… but you need to stop poking around in the divine.”

His voice dropped low, nothing like the whimsical tone I was used to.

“Because… I won’t be around to save you anymore.”

Just for a moment, I felt like I caught a flicker of sorrow.

But I dismissed it… I mean, I wasn’t some cosmic psychologist to understand the emotions of gods just by eyes.

So, I wasn’t even sure if that was sorrow or just the Trickster adjusting his mask.

Still, that made me frown.

Why the hell does he even want to save me?

He is dead anyway… so it couldn’t be for some grand reasons like saving the world.

So… why?

The trickster raised his head as the smile appeared on his face again.

“Now for your second question… who am I?” He repeated my question with one hand on his chin as if he were seriously pondering it.

“Well,” his lips curved, “as I’ve said before, I am the Forgotten Trickster.”

His voice softened before twisting back into mockery.

“A pretender, fated to vanish between the pages of the world like some forgotten extra…” He broke into laughter mid-sentence. “Hahahahahaha! That’s how I would describe myself, if I were a poet.”

Then his laughter faded, replaced by something heavier.

“Destiny is a cruel bitch, Rael. Even those who think they are above it are nothing more than pawns on a grander chessboard…” His violet eyes dimmed. “And unfortunately, I learned that far too late.”

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