Chapter 832 – #173_Diagnosis(5)
#826
1.
Many years have passed since the existence of witches, but the interpretation of the prophecy agency is still unclear.
The identity of the Apocalyptic Witch is also shrouded in mystery, even more so than the Whispering Witch.
An infinite thread of fate.
A being who observes the past, present, and future at the crossroads of interwoven causality.
A being who has ascended to the omniscient, though not omnipotent, observation deck of a god.
Eloa asserted that such an Apocalyptic Witch was a being from another dimension.
She simultaneously observes tens of thousands of alterable pasts, hundreds of millions of branching presents, and trillions of futures.
Therefore, everything reflected in her eyes is meaningless, and thus she claims to be a bystander.
She only repeats her given duties, ‘management of the prophecy agency’ and ‘guidance of witch succession,’ like a machine.
That’s why she didn’t place much weight on the prophetic dream she had before.
She had heard that the ‘importance’ of the Apocalyptic Witch was completely different from general standards.
In fact, the future directly conveyed by the Apocalyptic Witch was mostly an element of no importance by general standards.
So much so that the witches who bothered to visit would grumble and return, saying the prophecy was useless.
However, the Apocalyptic Witch spoke to Siwoo for the second time.
The first was, ‘My worship to the king hanging upside down,’ and the second was, ‘I’ve been waiting.’
There was clearly a will there.
A will that could not be imagined by a mere machine or cog.
Moreover, the future Siwoo saw was no ordinary matter.
Suddenly becoming the king of witches.
Suddenly having an apprentice witch.
Isn’t each one too significant to be overlooked?
“You’ve been waiting?”
Siwoo barely managed to break free from the confusion.
Calming his pounding heart, he calmly attempts a conversation.
The being who can answer all his questions is right in front of him.
“……”
And the moment he faced her, he felt a sense of déjà vu.
This feeling is…
Yes.
It’s very similar to Duke Keter, whom he had seen a few times during the process of recovering his erased memories.
He doesn’t know exactly which parts are similar.
What’s certain is that this girl is making a great effort to focus on Siwoo.
In her eyes, which are of a strange color that cannot be discerned, Siwoo’s presence constantly disappears and reappears.
“Were you waiting for me?”
“Yes. Ah, ——, ——, ——.”
Her small mouth opened and said something.
It was clearly a language that followed a certain form and rules.
But he can’t understand it.
No, it’s not just that he can’t understand it, but even if he tried to repeat the words, he would give up at the pronunciation stage.
It felt like his brain was refusing to accept it.
He got a headache.
“I don’t understand.”
At that moment, the girl frowned.
She tilted her head and moved her lips, but that wouldn’t help her communicate properly.
He could only guess that communication was not going smoothly.
“Sigh.”
The Apocalyptic Witch sighed.
The sigh sounded normal.
The Apocalyptic Witch bent down.
She dipped her fingertips into the lake and scooped up a tiny bit of water.
Her slightly wet hand touched his cheek.
It was a small hand, but it felt like he was touching something enormous.
His consciousness overflows.
In a vast, black space like the universe, threads of all colors flow.
These extremely thin threads sometimes scatter, sometimes gather in bundles, and sometimes crisscross like nerve bundles.
It is the past that could not be realized.
It is the present and future that have not yet arrived.
The history that existed in the world and the history that did not exist coexist and are recorded.
An enormous amount of threads, which would take hundreds of millions of years to count even half of them, flow from the place within reach to the infinite space beyond sight.
And Siwoo is looking down at the movement of the threads in the middle of the spiraling flow.
The observation deck of an omniscient god.
He inadvertently thought of that phrase.
He swallowed and lightly touched a thread floating right in front of his eyes.
His vision overlapped as if dozens of video players were playing on a single screen.
There, against the backdrop of the prophecy agency, the Apocalyptic Witch is standing in the same pose as when she touched his cheek.
“You’re the only one who has freed me from the shackles of fate. So, I’ll tell you the future. Use me.”
“I can finally grow up now. I really hated always being a ten-year-old.”
“Ah, this is the world that ordinary humans see. I really like it.”
“Can I say I love you?”
This is one of countless possibilities.
A reality that might have been realized if Siwoo had made a different choice in the past.
The Apocalyptic Witch, her name is ‘Dekima Verdandi.’
For some reason, Dekima had degenerated into a machine, and Siwoo risked his life to save her.
He said cool lines like, ‘You don’t have to suffer alone anymore.’
After freeing her from eternal bondage, they became lovers who loved each other dearly.
In the process, Verdandi mostly lost her abilities as a ‘manager.’
But it was okay.
Because they loved each other so much.
The succession issue would be disrupted as much as the Apocalyptic Witch disappeared, but that was something to worry about later.
Now that they had overcome hardships and confirmed their feelings for each other, they were simply happy.
Another possibility was shown, overlapping on top of that.
“I knew you’d come crawling back in this state.”
“Did you finally decide to beg for my wisdom? It’s too late.”
“My greatest happiness is to laugh at your despairing face.”
Over the expressionless face of the Apocalyptic Witch,
Over the lovely face of Dekima Verdandi,
Another color of expression overlaps.
It is a hue that is a suitable blend of hatred, contempt, ridicule, and glee.
The Apocalyptic Witch was experiencing joy as she subjugated Shin Siwoo, who had hated her.
Unless he immediately knelt down, repented for his past, and bowed his head, it would be impossible to receive her cooperation.
“Take out your intestines with your hands. Since you’re a spirit, you won’t die from that, so show me your resolve.”
A cruel and cold voice pierced his ears.
“Ugh…!”
Siwoo felt nauseous and quickly took his hand off the thread.
Completely different, conflicting emotions simultaneously struck his brain.
He loved Dekima, and he hated her.
She was a complete stranger who had no connection to him, and sometimes she was a lover who could give him her heart.
The emotions at both extremes were all so realistic that his feelings for her were tangled and jumbled.
Which of them is a meaningful present, and which is a meaningful relationship?
This is the perspective through which the Apocalyptic Witch perceives the world.
For a being who has lived for an immeasurable eternity and is on the border of uncertainty, ‘reality’ is not particularly meaningful.
That became chillingly real.
That’s not what you should be looking at.
Dekima’s will, which was transmitted silently as if echoing throughout the universe.
The threads of fate, which were freely moving on a microscopic level but drawing a large spiral on a macroscopic level, were being wound up as if they were being pulled by a spinning wheel.
What was in front of Siwoo were only about two thin threads.
He hadn’t touched them yet, but he could tell.
This was a thread connected to a confirmed past.
Frankly, he didn’t want to touch it.
It felt like stuffing information and emotions that exceeded the cognitive range that a human could accept into his brain.
He held his breath and reached out again.
But if it’s a confirmed past, it should be okay.
He had to get as much information as possible from this space.
He had that intuition.
His consciousness sank lower.
“Yes, Mother. As you wished, Mother.”
One witch wanted to inherit her mother’s legacy.
The realm of creating and destroying all things.
She wanted to follow the great achievement of being able to even modify the rules of the world, so she accepted her legacy and moved forward.
To stand on the rainbow.
She honed herself for a long time that was breathtaking.
Following the arrangements her mother had left behind, she did not hesitate to devour her own kind at times, and devoted her long life to gaining even greater power.
She also did not neglect to maintain the order of the world so that witches could prosper.
A very long time passed.
The world had changed.
After countless trials and errors, she realized.
She could not become like her mother.
At this rate, she would not be able to reach that realm.
To transcend humanity, she had to first break free from her shackles.
The witch gathered the impurities of her soul and separated them.
She cut out the evil chaos that opposed order and removed unnecessary elements.
What remained in the place where she had torn apart her body and soul and filtered out only the pure was sticky filth and residue.
The witch, who was about to eliminate the filth with an eternally burning flame, stopped when she heard the sound of a baby crying from within.
Even though she knew it was an impure being, even though she knew it was a being that would bring chaos and confusion rather than order.
It was because she felt a strong desire for life in the crying sound.
After much deliberation, the witch took the baby into her arms and raised it.
She looked at the eyes that resembled the night sky and named it Lilith.
Before she could even be shocked, her vision changed again.
A vast time difference existed between the two memories.
All her efforts were meaningless.
Even though she had tried so hard to maintain order.
Even though she had torn apart her body and soul and filtered out the impurities.
The witch was still a failure.
She realized that the realm that was only two steps away would never be narrowed.
All witches are failures.
Defective products with limits set so that they cannot stand on the rainbow.
The witch, who was pessimistic and despairing, discovered one possibility.
A very, very slim but only possibility to cling to.
Keter opened his mouth.
“I will heal you. Bring the child.”
And.
He sowed the seed.
What?