Chapter Thirty-Five: The Divergence of Fate (Special Edition III)

Amy never let go, not even at the end.

The reason was simple—not because he was intent on prying secrets from the girl, but out of genuine concern for her. Despite whatever mysteries she might conceal related to the Dice House, those matters were irrelevant to him. In his eyes, she was nothing more than a young girl lost in a remote alley, a child who had yet to come of age.

That was all.

He couldn’t bring himself to let her wander alone in such a dangerous place.

“Are you planning to attend the Harvest Festival?” The young Glorious One looked down at the petite girl beside him, reading the expected answer in her expression before he continued, his tone brooking no argument: “This isn’t a place to linger. I’ll take you to see the parade now.”

“As you command, Tyrant.” She clicked her tongue in obvious reluctance.

“Grasshopper, tyrant—can’t you speak properly?” He gazed at her delicate features and sighed. “My name is Amy Ulysses. Although I suspect you already know it, I think I should give you a proper reason to say it aloud; otherwise, you’ll start with things like ‘the man with black hair’ or ‘the man with black eyes.’”

“Amy Ulysses.” She paused. “What a lousy name.”

“Isn’t your name even worse?” The young Glorious One smiled enigmatically. “But I think Amy Yuli sounds nice. I’ll call you Yuli from now on.”

Yuli—Yulia. The name stirred memories of joyful times spent with his sister.

“Suit yourself.” The girl, now bearing the name Yuli, merely shrugged, indifferent.

“You really are a tomboy,” he said, feeling closer to her, perhaps because of the name. “Maybe your earlier introduction was right—you are a cute boy.”

“Cute boy… Is that a saying here too? Culture really does have its common threads.” She muttered to herself, then suddenly seemed to remember something and glared at him. “But you’re not thinking anything improper, are you?”

“No.” Amy glanced at her. “Relax, I’m not interested in boys.”

“Maybe you’re interested in girls with extra handles?” Yuli grinned mischievously, but her smile froze as the Glorious One looked at her with interest, flashing six teeth in a wide grin. “If that’s the case, I’m very interested in you.”

“Don’t you dare,” she said, her face showing unmistakable panic. “I’m all man, pure and simple.”

More like purely foolish…

Amy’s gaze slid past her slender, pale neck—unsurprisingly, there was no Adam’s apple.

But he didn’t point it out. It was merely banter; no need to dwell on it. Still… what exactly was ‘pure man’? The word felt unfamiliar, yet he instinctively understood its meaning. Such oddities weren’t new to him, but each encounter made him suspicious.

Yet… it was only suspicious. He was well aware of his peculiarities.

Understanding a problem, however, was not the same as solving it. Words alone would not suffice. At least for now, Amy had no real grasp of the issue, nor any idea how to resolve whatever hidden dangers might reside within him.

He found no answers in Hemtica.

Perhaps, somewhere in the vast, endless darkness, clues existed.

But he dared not seek them.

After facing the horror of Black Sorcerer Alfred, he finally understood how small he truly was. Perhaps the embodiment of disaster, the Dark Nobles, represented the pinnacle of mortal power, but in sheer uncanny terror, the abyssal night reigned supreme, filled with indescribable strangeness.

Without the protection of the Flame, he would soon be devoured by blind, mad chaos, submerged in the deepest shade, lost in tranquil darkness.

That was not the fate he desired.

But if he didn’t become stronger, it was almost certain to be his destiny.

As for becoming stronger…

The young Glorious One pressed his hand to his brow. From the great sword-bearer of the congregation, he had learned that a Glorious One could refine their bloodline, drawing ever closer to becoming one of the chosen, possessing power enough to shape their own fate. But the fallen Ulysses family had no method for refining their bloodline. He would have to obtain techniques from another house—whether they would suit him was another matter, but even the first step seemed daunting.

Yet Amy had no right to turn back.

His only choice was to press forward.

Because… there was no other way.

“You—seem troubled.” Just then, the girl’s voice came from his side. He turned toward her, meeting her black gaze. “Ahem, as the Witch of Finality, mistress of fate, I do have some confidence in myself…”

“Oh.” The young Glorious One replied simply, reached out to pat her head, then withdrew his hand and spoke coldly: “Thank you—but that won’t be necessary.”

Help from a chronic fantasist… best avoided.

“You—you—” Unsurprisingly, Yuli bristled. “Unbelievable!”

“How naive, Miss,” Amy sighed softly as he looked into her flawless face, placing a hand on her shoulder to steady her. “I suspect you’ve never been refused before—though you call Dick a brat, in my eyes, you’re the real… brat.”

He spoke deliberately, each word weighty.

I hope… you grow more mature.

“I’m the… brat?”

The girl fell silent—indeed, he was right. She had never been refused—not by Dick, nor by anyone else. They all saw her as the witch’s incarnation on earth, the manifestation of the witch’s will; her every word and deed was tolerated and respected to the utmost. Even when they called her ‘Boss,’ she was cared for as the youngest sister.

How infuriating.

She realized this, but the annoyance was directed not at others, but at herself.

Such a simple truth—why had it only come to light today? Though she spent most of her time asleep, as one nearly fused with the witch, she’d always known the ultimate secrets lurking beneath the world’s calm facade, always possessed knowledge surpassing the entire era. In other words, if she truly cared, she could never have been so easily fooled for so long.

Laziness, willfulness, arrogance…

Unconsciously, she had drifted farther and farther from “her” expectations.

Fortunately—not late, only distant.

Mistakes could be corrected; it only required time and energy, and she had plenty of both.

“Thank you.”

She glanced sideways at the boy and murmured softly.

“Did you say something?” The young Glorious One turned, his dark eyes betraying little emotion. “Sorry, we’re nearing the main street—I didn’t quite catch that.”

“No, nothing at all.” She shook her head.

“I see…” Though he had heard her, since she didn’t wish to say more, he didn’t press. “Maybe I misheard.”

“You definitely misheard.” Yuli replied with all seriousness.

“All right, I admit it—I misheard.” Amy raised both hands in surrender, unwilling to tangle further with a girl suffering from severe delusions. “But it doesn’t matter—the main street is just ahead.”

“Oh,” the girl nodded, “but where is the parade?”

“Up ahead,” answered the young Glorious One automatically. “Up ahead… I think…”

He was, undoubtedly, mistaken.

During his round trip, the parade on this street had already ended, leaving only chaos in its wake.

No… more than just chaos.

“I want this!” The petite girl had already spotted her prize, dragging him to a vendor’s stall. During the Harvest Festival, the streets were lined with vendors. For them, it was a rare day without worries about traffic or extortion from the law. Yet it was also an annual crusade: they needed ample stock and maximum efficiency to truly reap the festival’s bounty.

“This is… rainbow candy?” Amy looked over, perplexed. The vendor’s wares resembled not candy but a cloud from the sky, vibrant and dazzling, as beautiful as a work of art.

“Twenty copper coins each.”

The vendor was no novice. He was an old craftsman, years etched deep into his face.

“A wonderful surprise,” said the young Glorious One. He had never before seen candy so exquisite one almost hesitated to eat it—a testament to the vendor’s skill. “I’ll take two. How long will it take?”

The old man didn’t even look up or pause his work. “If you’re not picky about shape, you can choose from what’s here.”

“Then I’ll take this… and that…” He picked a rainbow and a butterfly.

“No,” but the girl wasn’t satisfied. “I want the sunset from the horizon.”

The old man raised his brow. “That may take a while.”

“How much longer?” Amy didn’t want to be delayed; he hoped to take this troublesome child to see the parade and then return home for a good night’s sleep.

“Ten minutes.”

Longer than he’d hoped, but still within reason.

He nodded.

The young Glorious One would never know that at this moment, the torrent of fate had split in two.

—One path to the left.

—One path to the right.

Yet neither revealed its end; before him, there was only boundless darkness.