I stood in the throne room, my gaze fixed blankly on the marble floor.
"…Kurumi always looks more at ease than I do."
A sigh escaped my lips. "But I… I need more information. I can't just sit here."
I raised my hand. In the next instant, my body vanished, reappearing on the ninety-seventh floor.
When the glow of teleportation faded, I found myself inside a room both unfamiliar and yet intimately familiar.
"…The War Council Hall," I muttered.
A colossal strategy table stretched across the center. Its surface shimmered with thin screens, glowing chess-like pieces arrayed across shifting maps. Symbols I recognized—icons of the dungeons I had once crushed. An interior I had designed merely for aesthetic value… now made real.
"So even things that used to be just menus and screens… are now rooms like this."
My eyes flicked toward the door. Two figures knelt there—tall, robed in darkness, their faces hidden behind ever-shifting hourglasses and star-maps.
"Inexars, huh? Weren't you supposed to be stationed in the library?"
Silence. Of course. They were only keepers of memory, not speakers.
I stepped closer.
"You. Summon one of the Ultivates. Astraea Cthylium Luthiel."
One of the Inexars rose, bowed silently, and left.
I returned to the table, tracing a finger along a glowing chess piece shaped like a fortress.
"…Memories of the old raids."
A short, bitter laugh. "Back then, I only pushed buttons on a screen. Now I'm really sitting here. What's the difference?"
The door creaked open. Soft footsteps entered. I turned.
A woman stepped into view, graceful and serene, her hair woven from constellations. Her aura radiated dignity, yet her star-bright eyes gazed at me with unwavering respect.
Astraea.
Thank the heavens… she still remembered my command to take a human form before me.
"Astraea," I said, leaning back into the chair. "Stand. I summoned you because I want to hear what you've discovered."
Her expression shifted—surprise flickered across her face. She lowered her gaze, voice quiet.
"…Sovereign… do you not already know what I know?"
I froze. What?
I don't know anything. Why would she say that?
I cleared my throat, masking the confusion clawing at me.
"Don't speak in riddles. Just explain. I want to hear it from your own mouth."
She nodded obediently.
"As you commanded, after the gathering in the throne room, I followed the threads of destiny. I sought to learn where Ourolith stands, the state of its surroundings, and whether mankind has discovered the Tower."
I folded my arms. "And?"
"Ourolith lies deep within the heart of Abythralis Forest—a land overrun by monsters. Humanity avoids it."
I gave a small nod. "Makes sense. If there were a city nearby, they would have raised fortresses to hold back the beasts."
Her head dipped lower.
"Indeed. There is such a city. Its name is Domeralith. The knights there fight ceaselessly against the monsters that spill from the forest."
"…And what of Ourolith itself?" I asked. "Have humans realized what it is?"
"No, Sovereign. To them, it is nothing but a distant black silhouette piercing the heavens. None have dared to approach."
"Good." A breath of relief escaped me. "That means it's still safe. Our location is shunned by mankind."
But immediately, I shook my head.
"…No. That isn't good enough. I want them to recognize this Tower. I want Ourolith to become the center of attention—to be acknowledged as part of this world. Otherwise… I'm nothing but the ruler of an empty throne."
Astraea's eyes lifted slightly. "You seek a place in human governance."
"Yes. If mankind acknowledges this Tower, I can plant influence among them."
She drew in a subtle breath.
"…I have found someone. An individual who may serve that purpose."
My brow rose. "Someone? You mean a human?"
"Yes. A man from Domeralith."
"And why him?"
"Because his constellation of fate differs from the rest. I observed him carefully. Among all the people of that city, only this man bears countless branching destinies. As if fate itself has granted him infinite paths to walk."
I tapped a finger against the table. "Interesting. His name?"
She bowed her head.
"Aquilla Elvanir. A mere knight guarding the fortress of Domeralith."
Silence stretched for several seconds.
"…A mere knight, you say?"
"Yes, Sovereign. He is neither noble nor commander. Yet his threads of fate diverge and intertwine endlessly. Every step he takes could ripple outward to change much of the world."
Leaning back, I considered her words.
Aquilla Elvanir. Just an ordinary knight. But… with fate branching wide before him. That can only mean this world has placed something upon his shoulders.
I picked up a glowing chess piece shaped like a lone knight and tapped the piece gently against the strategy table, my eyes fixed on Astraea.
"Then tell me," I asked quietly, "can you see how far Aquilla's fate will go? If his branches are that numerous, can you trace them to their very end?"
Astraea shook her head softly, nebula-like hair trembling as if scattered stardust.
"My apologies, Sovereign. I can only shift the course of destiny—erase unnecessary branches, or nudge them toward the path you desire. But to see where a fate truly ends… that authority does not belong to me."
I leaned forward.
"You mean you can't predict the future?"
"That is correct," she answered firmly. "Only Time can reveal where destiny flows once an anomaly occurs. I… cannot."
I fell silent for a moment. Time. Of course—that meant Seraphelum.
Could she do it? I wondered.
I glanced at the Inexar standing stiffly by the door.
"Summon Seraphelum Y'sothothis Chronis."
The moment the name left my tongue, my mouth felt rigid. I had to glance at a chess piece marked with an hourglass just to make sure I pronounced it correctly.
Astraea bowed deeply.
"Forgive me, Sovereign. I am deeply sorry for failing to meet your request."
I exhaled. "It's fine, Astraea."
Honestly, her ability was already godlike. The power to alter someone's destiny—wasn't that insane enough?
Silence lingered until the great doors creaked open. Seraphelum entered, every step a measured dance of seconds. She bowed low, shimmering hair like streams of falling sand brushing the floor.
"I answer your call, Sovereign," she said, her voice layered with the echoes of ages.
Her gaze flicked briefly toward Astraea before returning to me. I wasted no time.
"Seraphelum, can you see the future of a human named Aquilla?"
Astraea immediately spoke up.
"Allow me to explain to you, my sister."
She lifted a finger. The air quivered as cosmic mist coiled into existence, shaping itself into a constellation branching in countless directions. From each line of light, an image appeared: a young man with dark hair clad in iron armor.
I watched.
In one branch, he drew his sword and fought desperately.
In another, he quietly planted corn in a field.
In yet another, he laughed like a noble behind a banquet table.
Fate. All the possibilities of a life.
Astraea pointed at one glowing thread.
"This is the line he currently walks—serving as a knight guarding the fortress. But look… before him spread dozens of other branches, all waiting to unfold."
Seraphelum gave a slow nod.
"I see now. If that is the case, then yes—I can help. I can turn back time and trace where this branch will flow."
A lump formed in my throat. My body tensed. Is this real? Can they actually do this?
Seraphelum stretched out her hand. Grains of time fell from her fingertips, veiling the constellation. Light shifted, the branches twisted forward, and finally stopped at one point.
I saw it.
Aquilla—in Abythralis Forest. Only seconds later, a colossal monster lunged, tearing through his armor. Blood spattered across the ground.
"If no anomaly occurs…" Seraphelum's voice was flat, "this individual will die tomorrow. Slain by a beast while investigating the Tower's silhouette."
My fist clenched. Tomorrow? Wait—did I just witness a man's death predicted like a weather report?
"Then, Astraea…" I turned toward her, "…can you redirect him to another branch? Don't let him die. Make sure he only… sees the Tower. Nothing more."
Astraea lowered her head deeply.
"I can. I will cut away the thread leading to death and shift him onto the path where he survives. He will gaze upon the Tower… then retreat."
Relief left me in a slow breath. "Good. Then, Seraphelum—turn back the time. Reset it before his death."
Seraphelum bowed her head, moving her hand. Time itself seemed to rewind in the chamber—the dimmed constellation rekindling into light, its branches rewound.
Astraea raised her finger again, severing the thread of death. Carefully, she guided the light into another line. That path ended with Aquilla staggering back, pale-faced, retreating after beholding Ourolith's looming silhouette.
I drew a long breath, still unable to believe what I had just witnessed. Kurumi… did she really create gods as guardians of this Tower? Back in the game, their powers weren't anywhere near this.
But none of that mattered now. I had to carry myself as their sovereign. With power like this, I couldn't afford to appear weak—especially not before Kurumi.
My gaze swept across the two Ultivates.
"Astraea, from now on, watch over Aquilla's destiny. Do not allow him to stray onto any path I do not choose."
Astraea bowed deeply. "As you command, Sovereign."
"And you, Seraphelum," I continued, "monitor his future. If new branches appear, I want to know before it's too late."
Seraphelum bent gracefully. "My time is yours, Sovereign."
Leaning back into my seat, I picked up the knight-shaped piece once more.
Aquilla Elvanir… a mere knight. Yet it seems fate has granted him more branches than any human alive. If that is true, then he will become the key—the bridge between this world… and the Tower of Ourolith.