Chapter 157: The One Beyond Fate

“The demon tide from Opal will submerge Helburg before dawn. This is a fate I cannot change.”

“From this day forward, until the new era arrives, the monsters born from shadows shall endure in this world.”

“History will repeat itself—life will perish until the new era comes, and then life on earth shall be reborn from destruction.”

“My friend, my time is running out. This is the last thing I can do for you. The demon tide has broken the barriers, allowing the lost land to reconnect with the world. You can leave this wasteland now.”

“And Yulia… Now I can finally fulfill your wish and open the path to your homeland.”

Yulia’s face showed a trace of confusion. “Why is this happening? Prophet, didn’t you foresee his arrival here? What does it mean to be someone unbound by fate? Could it be… his coming before you wasn’t predestined?”

The withered man in the wheelchair merely smiled.

“Yulia, no one can predict the future with certainty. Never.”

“Everything is in constant flux. The only constant in fate is the end—just as all men must die, that is their inevitable conclusion. But whether they fall to their deaths from a cliff, perish charging into battle, or pass away surrounded by loved ones—none can foresee.”

“From today onward, you must decide everything for yourself. The prophecy book I wrote for you has no more pages.”

Toven’s body withered further as he smiled. Facing Wade, he whispered:

“I give these words to you as well, my friend.”

“I’m glad you came here to reunite with me.”

“From now on, whatever you choose to do will be your own decision.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t save your life—only return you to this world in such a form.”

“I’ve loved this beautiful world, but all I could leave it was… a sliver of hope.”

“The rest… is for you to choose.”

Toven’s soul and body visibly extinguished before their eyes. Mia floated out from Wade’s cloak as he removed his mask, gazing at his old friend with skeletal features.

Toven’s body rapidly turned to ashes, carried away by the wind—only his dried clothes remained.

He seemed to have released some “magic”—the crimson emblem belonging to Toven at Yulia’s waist sprouted green buds like branches.

“This is… the aura of the Divine Tree…” Yulia removed the emblem and clutched it in her palm.

She pricked her fingertip with a small dagger at her waist, letting her blood drip onto it.

A door opened, emitting white fluorescent light from beyond.

The location connected by that door was familiar to Wade—the room with glowing moss and Fairy Dragon scales. The door linked Helburg’s cemetery to Wade’s underground fortress.

Yulia stepped through the door, surveying the earthen room, reaching out to touch the withered wood cut from the Thorn Forest.

Unbeknownst to her, green leaves had sprouted on that dead wood.

The elf wept as she beheld those leaves.

Meanwhile, Wade dismissed his avatar and returned to his bedroom.

His consciousness awakened in his main body, arriving at that room.

The door remained open—beyond it lay the dark, plague-ridden cemetery of Helburg, eerily silent yet caressed by night wind.

Not the lifeless dust storms of the wasteland, but intermittent summer breezes carrying rustling leaves.

By stepping through that door, he could leave this wasteland, return to the land he once lived in, reenter a vibrant world—albeit in this skeletal form.

He didn’t rush through the door, silently watching Yulia caress the green leaves in the corner.

The elf said: “This is the Divine Tree’s branch… In the Third Era, the Silver Moon Elves allied with Nors to resist the demon tide. I thought the Divine Tree had withered after millennia of erosion… yet it retains a sliver of life.”

So beneath the Thorn Forest lay the ruins of the Silver Moon Elves’ city?

During his year of exploration, Wade had vaguely suspected the Thorn Forest might be the Divine Tree worshipped by the Silver Moon Elves.

That place should have had lush foliage and sprawling canopies supporting the sky, with the elves’ city beneath—where the Silver Moon Elves should have sung and danced as depicted on stone tablets.

But the demon tide destroyed their homeland. The Divine Tree withered, shed its leaves, and over endless time became that terrifying thorn-covered monstrosity.

This wasteland was once a peaceful paradise in the distant Third Era.

Yet even with dragons and elves allied with the mighty Nors Empire of that era, it couldn’t escape the world’s laws—couldn’t avoid destruction, meeting its inevitable end.

The demon tide was that terrifying.

None caught in fate’s flow can escape it—just as all must face death. It may come early or late, but never fails to arrive.

Desperate resistance might delay its coming, but never prevent it.

“You who stand beyond fate… what will you choose?” Yulia Silvermoon stood up. “The prophet left this world a sliver of hope—but are you truly willing to bear that crushing burden?”

“My homeland is already destroyed… yet the Divine Tree lingers. Having witnessed multiple era transitions, though I yearn to restore my homeland, I know my powerlessness… Even if this land were rebuilt, destruction would come eventually…”

“Our Dragon God is dead. Our Divine Tree withered. The earth that sustained us has dried up…”

“Only I remain, clinging to life in this world.”

Yulia clutched the prophecy book to her chest—Wade had seen her meticulously studying it during their first meeting.

Back then, she’d repeatedly read the prophet’s words before acting.

She’d never dared act outside “prophecy,” likely following its guidance like a manual for years.

To the elf, it was a “perfect walkthrough”—until its author told her: “I only wrote half. The remaining steps… even I don’t know. You must proceed step by step.”

This seemed to evoke complex emotions—her brows furrowed as she sighed deeply, yet still clung to that book.

In contrast, Wade felt little emotional fluctuation regarding Toven’s words.

He didn’t feel capable of bearing the world’s salvation, just as Toven said—his will was free to choose his path.

Perhaps retaining consciousness as an undead was because of Toven.

But without Toven, he should have become a corpse after dying twelve years ago, resting eternally in Helburg’s cemetery.

His life ended then—his consciousness should have vanished then.

Everything about “Wade” should have concluded twelve years ago.

That he could stand here pondering life’s meaning was thanks to Toven.

Toven gave him a second life—though no longer human but undead, his free will remained.

He needed only follow his heart in choosing.

He picked up the scale resting on the glowing moss and placed it in the elf’s palm.

That dragon scale had shown signs of life a year ago, yet remained with the moss without growing.

Returning the scale to the elf, he summoned all skeletons from his underground fortress, preparing to cross the door and leave the wasteland.

The elf stood frozen, clutching the living scale, sensing its vital energy.

Only then did she notice the glowing moss.

“How… Why is there still… a seed…”

As she marveled, her finger stung.

Suddenly, she saw a vision:

On parched earth beneath the withered Divine Tree, a man nourished the “seed” with his blood.

The “seed” sustained itself for years in that forgotten corner, fed by his flesh and magic.

That nameless one sacrificed his life, flesh, and soul for this faint hope.

Then, one distant day, the “seed” was lifted—continuing in a dark cave, an earthen room.

Across epochs, though Yulia’s familiar homeland perished, seeds remained—germinating new life after millennia.

“Was it you… Honored Dragon God?”

She knew the scale showed her this—the new life within it already possessed consciousness.

Clutching the scale, Yulia seemed to reach a decision and stepped forward.

The skeletons entered Nidran while Yulia instantly traversed vast distance to the temple ruins.

Azure dragon bones like mountains lay before her—the Fairy Dragon that once danced with the silver moon now mere bones.

Yet the dragon scale in her hand pulsed with life anew.

She knew her worshipped Dragon God was dead—the Fairy Dragon guarding the Silver Moon Clan long gone.

Yet the Fairy Dragon hadn’t vanished—miraculously birthing descendants.

Life’s continuation was itself a miracle.

Suddenly she understood why, years ago when darkness swallowed that land, her parents sent only her—the most naive, foolish daughter—away while remaining to perish with their land.

She was their continuation…

They could have fled too—but their duty as rulers made them stay.

Their only selfishness was wishing their daughter to continue living beyond.

“Yulia.”

“You must live.”

Perhaps her parents never intended for her to rebuild their clan and capital—

Only wished her to live well—unbound by her identity—simply as their daughter, their shared creation, continuing her own life.

How foolish—only now did she realize this.

Her parents only wanted her to live for herself…

Taking a deep breath, she gripped the emblem, returned to the room, crossed the door to the outside world, and stood before Wade.

Wade was organizing his skeleton army—now three hundred strong, including ten armored elf skeletons he’d awakened.

He retrieved his wooden placard, tying it at his waist.

The demon tide approached—it would reach Helburg before dawn.

Yet its people remained unaware, city gates firmly shut against all.

Toven called him “one beyond fate.” If he could truly alter fate, he’d try.

He turned with his troops—but the elf stood before him asking: “Milord, where do you go?”

Wade pointed west—away from the demon tide.

Leading his army, he headed for the cemetery’s western exit.

Yulia stepped aside, closing the wasteland-cemetery passage.

If he chose flight, she had nothing more to say.

She sensed the Flame Demon approaching—the demon tide made it easier to detect her.

She had to leave quickly—everyone in this castle would be swallowed by the tide.

Having witnessed such scenes countless times, she felt no profound grief—only faint regret.

But as she prepared to teleport, clamoring sounds came from the streets outside.

Emerging from the cemetery, she saw skeletons breaking into homes, herding out survivors.

Plague-stricken citizens panicked at the undead.

The skeletons lurched menacingly—when someone fell, they slowed further.

The fleeing humans might not notice, but Yulia instantly realized—they were only frightening people. Not one was harmed—scaring people from homes like herding ducks toward the western gate.

For the bedridden, skeletons even brought ropes to bind limbs, gag mouths, and carry them on stretchers.

Meanwhile, more skeletons crawled from graves behind them.

Necromancy—Dead Servant Control. The small phantom beside Wade awakened cadaverous remains from the cemetery, using puppet manipulation to frighten residents more efficiently.

Suddenly Yulia understood—this “one beyond fate” indeed fled—but not alone. By frightening the castle’s inhabitants, he made them sense danger too.

He attempted to alter the prophet’s foretold fate.

Abandoning her teleportation plan, Yulia approached the skeleton carrying the wooden bow, bowing again.

“Milord, please take back the Dragon God’s scale.” She returned it to Wade. “The new Dragon God recognizes you as its nurturer—you should keep this scale.”

“Also… You likely haven’t experienced the demon tide. It arrives faster than you think. Even if these people flee Helburg, the tide will soon overtake them.”

“The first wave lasts at least ten days—spreading across half the central continent. Only the highest mountains temporarily block it.”

“As undead, you might survive—but these weak humans stand no chance.”

“This method saves no one.”

Wade looked at the elf, displaying his placard: “You have a solution?”

The elf replied: “Milord, as the Dragon God’s recognized nurturer, you can borrow its power.”

“If you truly wish to change their fate… perhaps take the scale to the temple once more.”