Once upon a ti, an imnse power had been placed before Ambrose. He had failed to cherish it. Like a heartless cad, he had run off after claiming what benefits he could.
Levitra's lash whipped Ambrose right back into the state of a legendary ascension.
His soul rged with the world. Once again, he was cast into the vast ocean of natural law, searching for a pearl that resonated with him.
This ti, however, a bloodstained pearl surfaced on its own and was forcibly shoved into his hands. He had had no choice whatsoever.
The fate he had once spurned returned with overwhelming force, like an ex barging into his house, brandishing a court order that forbade divorce on the basis that the relationship could still be nded. She was accompanied by her burly brother, who was planning to settle the score with a scumbag who dared to jilt his beloved sister. [1]
Boundless power surged into Ambrose's soul. mories that had long faded were dragged back into the light like an ex dredging up old argunts. Every past he had wanted to forget was torn open, bloody and raw, filling him with a pain he had not felt in ages.
Being forced back together after a breakup was cruel in exactly this way.
A new legendary boon began to take shape, and Ambrose's soul returned to his body.
They were still inside the secret vault. However, the blood-red glow of the idol had faded considerably. The Skinner Duke and his daughter knelt before it, lashing themselves madly, terrified that the weakening light ant they had angered the goddess.
They had no idea that Levitra had simply spent the faith accumulated over countless years to play a particularly vicious prank on Ambrose.
Expressionless, Ambrose stared at the idol. Levitra's phantom still lingered upon it, gazing at him with amused interest.
With his new legendary boon in hand, Ambrose finally understood her plan.
It was an absurdly powerful legendary boon: the Loom of Fate.
With this ability, Ambrose could weave a future for his target. Yet, tainted by Levitra's divine power, every future he wove would lead only to boundless suffering. Physical tornt, ntal collapse—nothing was beyond its reach.
Perhaps this boon should have been called the Loom of Torturous Fate.
Every ti Ambrose used it, he would be spreading pain throughout the world. He'd essentially be a missionary of Levitra's.
On the surface, this seed acceptable. After all, he could just use it on enemies. But Ambrose would have gladly sold this legendary boon for a single gold coin.
The power of divination had once supported him through years of adventuring, helping him survive crisis after crisis. Yet the more he relied on it, the tighter the threads of fate would wrap around himself.
Those who borrowed fate's power would, in ti, beco thralls to fate.
Those who believed in fate would lose the power to change it.
If you know what your next al will be, it tastes only half as good as it otherwise would. When you know how a ga ends, half the fun of playing it is gone.
Foreknowledge eroded willpower, dulled independent thought, and turned life into a detective novel spoiled from the first page. It would be utterly joyless.
Living like that would be torture for Ambrose.
It had been enjoyable for a century or two, but by his third century of life, Ambrose found himself growing numb.
What use was hard work compared to a fated future?
Once, Ambrose foresaw that a friend would die violently. He did nothing and simply watched it happen.
Before his death, that friend had asked him a single question: if Ambrose hadn't known the future, would he have done everything in his power to save him?
Ambrose hadn't answered. He didn't even know when he had beco so numb as to do nothing at all.
Perhaps it was because he had already failed to change the foreseen ti after ti. The weave of fate had grown more and more impenetrable, cocooning his soul in layer upon layer of inevitability.
That friend's death had been his turning point. It had forced him to face his paralysis.
Living like that was no different from being dead. Perhaps that was why the path of divination had decayed with ti: every mage who walked that path eventually turned into unfeeling stone.
From that day on, Ambrose had spurned the power of prophecy. He knew he could not escape his fate, but he could choose not to examine it.
He closed his eyes to the future and focused on living in the present, and his life beca richer for it. Years later, when he finally broke through to the legendary realm, he parted ways with fate itself.
Life without foresight was harsh, but it felt real. Being poor was no tragedy—if things went truly awry, he could always beco a lich.
Abandoning worldly desires was far better than abandoning life itself.
That was why, during his previous ascension, Ambrose had decisively refused the power of divination. He was determined to pursue wealth to the bitter end.
But Levitra had ruined everything.
At that mont, Ambrose wanted nothing more than to strip her naked and toss her into a goblin camp.
The mont he ascended for the third ti, Ambrose saw visions of possible futures to co. He saw his limitless future compressed into a handful of stark choices.
Staring at Levitra's phantom atop the idol, Ambrose swore with his very soul.
"Levitra, I will shatter your divinity and cast you down to the mortal world."
Levitra's phantom blinked in surprise before she burst into wild laughter. "Declaring war on a god? Has power blinded your intellect? What a foolish oath. What right do you have to say such things?"
"Levitra, you are a god, and I a mortal," Ambrose replied calmly. "But I may be the only mortal in the world who possesses three legendary boons. At this point, is becoming a god really so difficult?" His confidence ca from his background as a diviner.
Levitra scoffed. "So what if you beco a god? Gods are everywhere. Could you really weave a fate where I beco mortal?"
Crazed gods were never weak. Otherwise, they would have been culled long ago. No matter how many followers they had, each possessed a terrifying specialty.
Even if Ambrose ascended to godhood, Levitra wouldn't be concerned. Plenty of gods wanted her dead. One more was hardly aningful.
Ambrose rely smiled. "Levitra, you know nothing of fate. I am a lich, and you a god. Our ti stretches on without end. One day, the threads of fate will wrap around you. I have seen that future.
"Even for a god, the terror of inevitability is a form of tornt. In ti, the pressure of prophecy will crush your soul. I will wait patiently for that day."
Levitra's arrogance winked out, to be replaced by fury. For the first ti, she wondered if he might be telling the truth.
"Only if you live to see it," she snapped. "You know very well that, by accepting your deal with the God of Alchemy, you have soured your relations with countless gods.
"If you had agreed to beco my chosen, I might have spared you. You refused. My little prank was nothing more than trivial revenge. The punishnts of other gods will soon descend. Enjoy them. I look forward to the mont you see your own death approaching and await it in despair."
Yet in the end, Levitra inflicted no punishnt upon him. Perhaps the idol no longer held enough faith to sustain divine retribution. Or perhaps she still dared not violate Aion's laws.
Either way, her phantom soon vanished, and their soulbound exchange remained known to no one.
Though outwardly calm, Ambrose was seething. He had never imagined he would be played so thoroughly by a crazed goddess.
The future he claid to have seen, in which Levitra's divinity had been stolen from her, had been nothing but a bluff. The futures he had seen had nothing to do with her at all.
But that hardly mattered. Scaring her was enough.
And Levitra had clearly been rattled. She wouldn't have resorted to such empty threats otherwise.
What retaliation could a god offer? Another prank that brought him another legendary ascension? That sounded excellent, to be honest. A few more such pranks, and he might really beco a god on the spot.
As for revenge... Ambrose sneered. He was curious to see who would strike first.
If the evil gods sought him out, he'd demonstrate what he could do against them. Levitra would be his first target.
An idea ford in his mind.
With a flick of his finger, healing light enveloped the Skinner Duke and his daughter, whose bodies were torn and bloody. Their wounds closed instantly, the pain vanishing without a trace.
This earned him no gratitude. "Godblessed," the duke cried anxiously, "healing magic is forbidden!"
Levitra was the Mistress of Pain. Healing was ant to co only after sufficient suffering. Each ritual demanded that they teeter on the brink of death before the goddess's blessing restored them to health.
Many of the duke's children had failed to endure those rites and died before receiving her rcy.
By healing them prematurely, Ambrose was blaspheming.
Yet Ambrose rely replied, "Are you the goddess's chosen, or am I? Do you claim to understand the Mistress of Pain better than I do?"
The duke fell silent. Indeed, the goddess's favor was unmistakable. When Ambrose had appeared before the idol, he had imdiately been suffused in crimson light. The duke knew that sight all too well: it was divine favor, far stronger than anything he had ever seen.
The idol's accumulated faith had nearly been drained dry.
How could he dare argue with Ambrose?
With the duke cowed, and with Levitra not appearing to refute him, Ambrose confird his suspicions. She lacked the power to retaliate against him at the mont.
He turned back to the Skinner Duke, "Enough. I interrupted your ritual because the goddess is no longer paying attention to this domain. Your sacrifices are wasted. They can no longer provide her with faith."
Realization dawned on the duke and Bella Trix.
"From this day on, I will be her spokesperson. Pray to as you would pray to her."
Ambrose summoned the Golden Throne, floating above the ground, and commanded the crazed father and daughter, "Now, kneel before and show your devotion, just as you would before the goddess herself."
1. Hm. ☜
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