NOVPUBRobin clenched his teeth so hard they nearly cracked. He didn't know whether to take the All-Seeing god's words as a compliment or an insult.
But did it even matter anymore?
In the end, when all was said and done… wasn't he still nothing more than a pawn?
After several seconds of silence, Robin exhaled a long, trembling breath. His eyes lowered to the cold ground beneath his feet. He had already asked himself a thousand questions—and found no answer comforting.
Still… one more question escaped his lips, barely more than a whisper:
"...What would you gain from instigating a war between House Destra and that savage… Zavaros?"
The humanoid light gave a scoff and waved the question away as if it were a mosquito buzzing in his ear. "Really? That's what you want to ask?" he said with a mixture of disappointment and irritation.
"Such a childishly naive question… Are you still clinging to the idea that I care about House Destra? Or a Zavaros?"
Robin blinked. His thoughts scrambled to keep up.
"So… they're not your goal?" he murmured, almost to himself.
But then something shifted.
His eyes, moments ago lost in confusion, suddenly focused like the sharpening of a blade.
His voice returned with a tremble of revelation.
"…You don't care about them. What you want—is the war. You just want a full-scale cosmic war!"
The humanoid light's grin widened, and he pointed at Robin with theatrical glee.
"Now there's the brain I've been waiting to shine!" he laughed.
"But why?!" Robin's voice broke into a raw shout, filled with disbelief and fury.
"My war against the Great Serpent Empire—it was a mere whisper in the history of the universe A conflict so minor no one of real power paid it any attention—and still it killed billions. No—tens of billions! Entire civilizations wiped away like dust in the wind! And you want to create something even larger? A universal war? What kind of creature are you?!"
The air turned cold. The Seer's expression hardened, like a storm freezing over.
"Creature? Devil? Child, you use words you barely understand. Tell me—what do you know of the Ancient Belt?"
Robin's jaw clenched. His fists shook at his sides.
"…Nothing. I was told it's a myth. A fairytale. No one knows if it's real or not."
The All-Seeing god's voice became low and grave, as if something old and terrible stirred behind his words.
"Then come back to me when you do know. When you've grown enough to peer beyond your own shadow. Until then… silence your tongue. Pieces like you are not meant to question the ones moving them."
He gestured as though brushing away sand.
"Play your role. Do your part. Even if it means your death. If you ever grow into someone worthy—someone notable enough to become one of my targets—then you may ask who I am… and what I do."
Robin laughed bitterly, a dry, humorless sound.
"You talk like you're some kind of savior. As if you're doing the universe a favor by puppeteering it into ruin."
He looked up, eyes burning.
"Fine. If what you're doing is so important, so noble, why didn't you come to me directly? Why didn't you just say what you are truly after? I could've spoken to Rinara, I could've changed everything if I listened to these words just a few years ago!"
The humanoid light calmly raised two fingers, holding them parallel.
Between them floated a delicate, nearly invisible strand of light.
So fine and fragile that even a sigh might have severed it.
"Because of this," he said.
Robin's brow furrowed. "That's…?"
"A thread of fate," the Seer explained.
"When someone becomes powerful enough—when their will and presence grow vast—they begin to sense when their fate is being tampered with. Especially if the event in question is large, direct, and deeply personal. A cosmic war… it's too big. Too loud. Too heavy on the threads."
He looked at the strand with a calm, almost loving gaze.
"If I intervened directly… they'll know. They'll pull away. They'll prepare. and The board resets."
Then, with a flick of his fingers, the thread snapped.
"And more importantly… it wouldn't be nearly as fun."
"Fun?" Robin repeated, stunned.
His voice cracked with emotion as his mind reeled.
"I don't know what cosmic ideal you're chasing. I don't know what grand truth lies behind your manipulations—but I do know war. I've seen what it brings. And I know that if what you're doing succeeds… the universe will drown in blood."
The All-Seeing god let out a soft chuckle, almost amused.
"And again I ask—what's the problem? Do you have any idea how long I've been doing this? How many eras I've spent cultivating promising young fools like you, pushing them into place, setting up entire realities just for the chance that one of them might succeed?"
He threw his arms wide.
"Age after age. Attempt after attempt. And nearly all of them ended in failure! If I didn't find some joy in the process I would've suffocated long ago."
Robin's heart twisted.
His voice dropped into a hoarse whisper, dread seeping into every word.
"…What happened to them? Those before me."
He already knew. But he had to ask.
He needed to hear it.
"They were killed, of course," the Humanoid light laughed, as if stating a weather report. His tone held no weight, no sadness, not even acknowledgment of loss.
"They disappeared into the vast, endless ocean of time—swept away along with every person they ever loved, every memory they ever left behind, and every place their footsteps once claimed as familiar."
"All of them," he continued, "were just like you. They were full of dreams, ambition burning in their veins like wildfire. They had unshakable resolve, the kind that made them refuse to bow to anyone, no matter the power. Their presence was magnetic, the kind that gathered followers naturally… and yet, despite all of that…"
He looked at Robin directly.
"…not one of them even got close to grasping what they sought—true glory."
Robin let out a low laugh—dry, bitter, almost broken.
"Glory? You speak as if it's something real. As if it's not just another illusion to bait fools like me into moving forward."
He looked down, voice turning colder.
"People like me, like them... we're not heroes. We're tools. We're disposable. Just chess pieces you move across the board at your leisure."
His legs nearly gave way, the emotional weight finally pressing him down.
He didn't fall—not yet. Only the sheer force of pride, raw and aching, kept him standing.
The All-Seeing god's expression softened—just a little. He sighed, shaking his head with a trace of disappointment.
"You're still staring at the ground," he murmured.
Then he moved forward slowly, his presence almost spectral, and gently placed a hand on Robin's shoulder. His voice grew quieter—almost fatherly.
"Let's imagine, just for a moment, that you made the 'right' decision. Let's say you had reached out to Rinara. and war began to spread its fire… what then? What do you think would have become of you?"
Robin gave a short, humorless laugh, scoffing at the idea.
"I'd die. Probably crushed somewhere between fleets, vaporized by someone stronger, discarded in the chaos as collateral damage. Isn't that the most likely outcome? What could I possibly do in the middle of a galactic war?"
"Haha!" the Seer barked out a sharp laugh.
"Maybe that would be true… if you were just another candidate. Just another failure."
Then, he turned his gaze toward the figures surrounding Robin—his generals. Each of them, a force of nature. Each of them, bound to him not by fear, but by loyalty. Real loyalty.
"But you're not just anyone, are you?" He stepped back, the light in his eyes intensifying.
"You, Robin Burton, would have stood beside Rinara—not behind. You would've armed her with weapons and inventions never before seen in the Mid-Belt. You would've deployed your armies to ravage the worlds under Helen, storming planets shoulder to shoulder with her."
He began to pace now, the narrative flowing freely from his lips like a prophecy.
"Your name would've been whispered with awe. Feared by some, revered by others. A storm rising from the ashes of forgotten empires."
Then he turned, locking eyes with Robin. His voice dropped to a near whisper.
"Eventually, Zavaros the Savage would have intervened. And when he did, you—standing beside Rinara—would've caught his eye. He would've seen something in you. He would've reached out, taken you under his wing. Slowly, but surely, he would've shaped you."
The Humanoid light's grin widened.
"And in turn, you would have reshaped the True Beginning Empire. Forged it into a new power, one that could stand tall among the giants. You would have stood—not beneath them—but shoulder to shoulder with the tyrants. And with Nihari, the gift I tailored just for you, at your back... the very foundation of your rise…"
He gestured dramatically.
"You would have reached glory."
Robin raised one brow, smiling with a flicker of defiance.
"…And is that guaranteed?"
The All-Seeing god chuckled, lifting a hand as if weighing the stars.
"Of course not. Nothing is absolute. The threads of fate twist, tangle, and sometimes snap under the weight of unforeseen choices."
He shrugged, light-hearted for a moment. Then, like a nostalgic child, he leaned over and pinched Rinara's cheek again.
"Tsk~ We got so close this time. Just one spark away. Such a shame."
Robin swallowed, throat suddenly dry. There was a question lodged in his chest—a question that felt like a blade.
He didn't want to ask it. But he had to.
"…Let me ask you this, then," he said, forcing the words out.
"All the other chosen before me… the ones you worked with, trained, raised… did they have golden eyes too?"
The All-Seeing god went still.
Slowly, ever so slowly, he turned to face Robin.
A smile spread across his face.
A smile that warped his entire face into something other.
