"Why falter? You, who have been given everything, do not deserve to."

"You, who shall not be named, have failed. Why persist? Realization should come that you ought to be grateful for this being your end. What falls is you, your very existence."

"That isn't nice."

"Your adherence to what you proclaim as niceness—pray tell, why has he failed?"

"..."

"What if we give him another chance?"

"Many opportunities were mismanaged, poor decisions made."

"I can do it. I can show him the Path."

"..."

"Beauty will always reveal their Paths."

"..."

"And Equilibrium shall judge them."

---

Once again, he found himself enveloped by the darkness that had greeted him upon his first awakening in this surreal realm. This void, where the essence of his soul had entwined so intimately with the Abyss, now reflected his own transformation—once a pure entity, now smudged by corruption, his being had merged into something far more complex, darker, and arguably more potent. He was a changed entity, a force that bore the enigmatic depths of the Abyss within, symbolizing a profound and irreversible metamorphosis.

Ah, yes, he remembered with a flicker of clarity through the gloom—that was him, now merely a pitiful shadow of a man. His soul, aimlessly wandering the void, awaited the trials that would determine his fate. Would he be granted entrance into Nirvana, he wondered?

"No."

Startled by the interruption, his soul spun in a wispy turn to face the imposing figure that loomed large over him, its singular eye piercing through him with the intricate judgment of Equilibrium. Recognition dawned grimly upon him.

"HooH," he whispered, his voice bearing a spectral quality, as if speaking was an unnatural act in the presence of such a judge.

The deity did not respond verbally; its massive eye continued to scrutinize him, a silent sentinel judging his every misdeed.

Indeed, he had faltered often. Gifted with myriad opportunities by the Aeons, he had squandered them all, ensnared by his own hubris.

"Indeed, Y/N. Your pride has blinded you. The illusion of godhood you cling to has not strengthened you; it has revealed your frailty. Do you believe their blessings have fortified you? No, you remain weak," HooH declared, its voice booming across the expanse, echoing against the fabric of his soul.

Y/N remained silent, absorbing the harsh truth of HooH's words. Yet, freed from the malevolent influence of IX, he felt the burgeoning of empathy and sympathy within his soul, emotional capacities that allowed him to view his situation more logically and hopefully.

"But I have grown strong; my powers have even challenged the Great Ones!" he protested, clinging to the evidence of his supposed strength.

However, an unexpected heaviness pressed down upon him, not with the brute force of physical weight but with a more profound, symbolic burden.

Unseen by Y/N, HooH's arm was outstretched, holding a symbol of Balance in its mighty hand.

"What you are experiencing now, what does your strength avail you against this? You feel oppressed, yet you lack the capacity to counter this force. Why?" HooH's voice was implacable, pressing him further into introspection.

The Balance glowed ominously in HooH's palm, two orbs shining like cosmic black holes—one blue, the other orange—symbolizing the fundamental forces that governed existence. This celestial scale weighed heavily upon Y/N, a testament to the living balance that sustained the cosmos.

Struggling against the overwhelming force, Y/N found his efforts futile. His voice, however, managed to pierce through the oppressive silence, seeking answers in defiance of his physical impotence.

"You... then, allow me a question," Y/N proposed, halting his struggle as the dance of the orbs paused.

HooH's expression remained unreadable, its presence commanding yet impartial. "Speak," it intoned, allowing him the floor.

"You speak of strength, and I have spoken of mine. Yet, our understandings diverge. I, once mortal, equate strength with the power to protect and to assert oneself. What is your perception of strength, HooH?" Y/N's question, bold and nearly blasphemous, hung heavily in the void.

HooH's response came not in words but in action. Its other arm raised, not bearing the orbs of Balance but radiating Judgment, a terrifyingly pure light that seemed ready to annihilate or absolve.

"Mortal notions of strength—dominance over others—are considered idealistic by many but are ultimately foolish. True strength does not disrupt balance but maintains it. Even if you become the strongest, your might would distort the balance, compelling others to rise against you, potentially leading to your—and possibly the world's—undoing," HooH explained, its voice resonant with ancient wisdom.

This perspective, reflective of a true Aeon's wisdom, resonated with Y/N, though it clashed with his personal experiences and beliefs.

"Balance is necessary for life to flourish, and it is through balance that beings must navigate their existence, not through the whims of power but guided by the prophecies laid out before them," HooH continued, its tone now echoing the serenity of a deity rather than the chaos once attributed to it.

Prophecies—a concept that left a bitter sting in Y/N's essence. His designated role by the Progenitor as a mere side character, a passive participant rather than a shaper of destinies, gnawed at him.

"Prophecies... I disdain them," Y/N confessed, his voice tinged with frustration and defiance.

At his words, the light of Balance intensified, and the aura of Judgment seemed poised to obliterate his very essence. "Prophecies ensure the balance of all paths," HooH declared, its voice now a commandment.

"What if—I challenge these prophecies? What if I redefine them under my vision, assume the role of a messiah, and guide others to a truth I deem just?" Y/N's proposal was audacious, a stark deviation from the preordained paths.

HooH regarded him silently, its central eye devoid of emotion yet seemingly considering his words.

"Show me," the Aeon finally responded.

"Huh?"

"Prove your claim. Change your past," HooH commanded, transforming the void into a dazzling array of prismatic light—a spectrum of infinite possibilities.

"Change the past?" Y/N asked, seeking clarity as HooH's arms rejoined, the orbs of Balance merging into its core, the ominous presence of Judgment receding.

"Show it to me. Demonstrate your method, your path as a messiah. I will observe, and I will judge," HooH decreed, its voice resonating with the finality of the cosmos.

As light enveloped him, pulling him into a vortex of time and potential, Y/N faced the monumental task of altering not just his fate but perhaps the very fabric of reality itself.

---

He felt himself floating, the sensation ethereal and unbounded. It was a blissful respite, a feeling of weightlessness where nothing could tether him to the sorrows of existence.

"Y/N...?" A voice, tender and familiar, called to him from the depths of this serene detachment. It was a voice that belonged to someone he knew deeply, yet distant in his current memories.

"Jingliu?" he responded instinctively, his voice a whisper against the stillness. He opened his eyes, only to be met with the harsh glare of sunlight that forced him to shield his vision with a hand.

"Yes, it's me. Has your head collided so hard against the tree that you don't remember who I am?" The voice came again, its tone playful yet tinged with a concern that belied its youthful timbre.

Wait, mature? He puzzled over his own thoughts as he slowly allowed his eyes to adjust and take in his surroundings. They were back in the forests where he and Jingliu had spent countless days training in their youth. And there she was, right before him—not as he last remembered her but as a child, her small, delicate form a stark contrast to the warrior she had become.

He glanced at his own hands, noticing the cuts that marred his skin. Yet, as he watched, they healed with astonishing rapidity, the wounds closing as if they had never been.

"How did you..." Jingliu started, her voice filled with wonder and disbelief, but she was cut off by Y/N's sudden movement. In a blur of speed that seemed impossible for a child, he closed the distance between them and embraced her tightly.

Jingliu, initially taken aback by the sudden display of affection, found herself enveloped in a warmth that felt both familiar and comforting, despite the confusion that clouded her mind.

Then, to her surprise, she heard sobbing. "Are—Are you crying?" she asked softly, her voice filled with concern as she felt Y/N's tears soak through her clothing.

"What's going on here? I leave you two alone for a moment, and I come back to find a boy who should've been a man weeping like a child. Get those tears out of my sight!" The sharp command came from a tall figure approaching them, his presence commanding yet worn with the weight of many battles.

Y/N quickly composed himself, wiping the tears from his eyes as he reluctantly let go of Jingliu. He turned to face the man who had been both mentor and guardian to him. "Why are you looking at me like I've gone missing for so long?" the man in the hood asked, his voice carrying a mix of irritation and concern as he noted the healed cuts on Y/N's hands.

"I... I just missed you all," Y/N managed to say after a brief silence, his voice still shaky from the emotional turmoil.

The little girl beside him whispered something under her breath—words that seemed too laden with experience for someone her age—but the man only narrowed his eyes briefly before dismissing the comment.

"Well... let's continue training," he said simply, signaling the end of the discussion. Both children quickly sprang to their feet, eager to dive back into their routines.

Days passed, and both the man and Jingliu grew increasingly suspicious of Y/N's newfound prowess. The boy, once clumsy and indecisive with any weapon, now showed a mastery that could rival even the seasoned warriors, though his youthful stamina still limited him.

Each day, as training concluded, Y/N would dash off to test his powers in solitude. Summoning shadows that responded with fluid obedience, he reveled in the control he wielded. "Even in this chance, the blessings remain. Nice, very nice," he murmured as he manipulated a shadowy orb with ease.

He smiled at the dark sphere floating in his hand. "I will save everyone with this. Please watch, everyone." A thought then struck him. "Oh right, my weapons! Let's see if I still have them..." Concentrating, he summoned the Abyssal Gate, from which two blades emerged: the Ornate Dagger and Alphen's longsword.

"Hmm... I can't use either of these yet. I'll just have to wait until I'm older," he mused, twirling the dagger with skill that belied his young age. His previous life had not granted him such finesse with weapons, but now, armed with experience and foresight, he felt unstoppable.

"I will become the strongest, and protect those I love," he vowed quietly to himself, though a nagging sense of unease lingered in his mind.

Something doesn't feel right.

---

As days turned into months, Y/N's happiness seemed unshakeable, and he reveled in the joys of training and demonstrating his accrued skills. Yet, beneath the surface, something felt amiss, like a melody played in the wrong key. He was far more protective and proficient than he had any right to be at his age, and Jingliu began to notice.

"Y/N," she called out one day, watching him practice his swordplay with a rhythm that had become too familiar.

He halted mid-swing, letting the mini greatsword—a gift from his master, just like in the past—fall to his side. "Yeah? What's up?"

"Nothing... it's just that you have been really... resilient?" Jingliu searched for the right word, her expression a mix of admiration and suspicion. "Master has thrown every possible challenge at us during training, and yet, you bounce back from every pain and master every technique so quickly. It's almost unnatural."

Y/N understood her unspoken accusation and felt a pang of guilt for the secrets he kept. To confess that he had jumped back in time, that he possessed knowledge and powers beyond his apparent years, would be to shatter the fragile normalcy of their lives. Instead, he opted for a half-truth. "I went through enlightenment," he said, hoping the vagueness of his answer would satisfy her curiosity.

Jingliu merely sighed, a look of resignation crossing her features. "Nevermind... actually, I'm grateful," she finally said, her voice soft.

"Why is that?" Y/N asked, tossing a tree branch aside, his tone light yet curious.

"Nothing..." she replied, her eyes wide with an innocence that seemed to mask deeper thoughts.

Y/N's heart sank as he sensed the growing distance between them, a chasm widened by his secrets and the strange course his second life had taken.

Months flowed into years, and the shadow of Cangcheng's devastation loomed over them once more. History repeated itself with cruel precision, and as Y/N watched his world crumble again, he questioned the worth of his so-called second chance. Why, when he had been granted such power, did he feel as helpless as before?

"Everything will be fine, right?" he whispered to himself, trying to quell the rising tide of despair. But deep down, he knew the truth.

Something doesn't feel right.

---

As he grew into adulthood, every step felt like a replay of his past life, each moment tinged with a sense of déjà vu. His position as a general, his closeness to Jingliu—it all felt like a script he had read before, one that he was doomed to follow without deviation.

And yet, as the years stretched on, a new awareness began to gnaw at him. He felt watched, pursued by unseen eyes that seemed to know his every move before he made it. Paranoia took root, distancing him from those he cared about, including Jingliu.

Years cascaded by, each one blending into the next with the seamless passage of time. Y/N met Jing Yuan, a curious boy brimming with potential. Yet, the desire to mentor him directly eluded Y/N, so he entrusted the boy to Jingliu, retreating into the shadows while she trained Jing Yuan, molding him into a finer pupil than in the previous life.

This arrangement should have satisfied him, but a disquiet lingered within Y/N—a persistent feeling that something was amiss. "Someone is tampering with my life," he muttered, his suspicion growing as he wielded Alphen's longsword, the blade slicing through the air in a dance with the Borisins, their menacing canine teeth threatening at every turn. Yet, he did not falter. His resolve, once a bastion against despair, now felt misguided. The path of the messiah he had envisioned seemed a fool's errand in retrospect.

As life accelerated around him, he encountered his friend once more. "Hey, Y/N, I am Baiheng! The Foxian who yearned to venture to the stars." Together with Jingliu, they forged a friendship, a trio bound by shared dreams and challenges.

"Oh, Master Y/N, I know you dislike the title, but Master Jingliu insisted," Jing Yuan remarked one day, his admiration for Y/N undimmed despite Y/N's attempts to distance himself.

"I... My name is Ying Xing! It's nice to meet you!" exclaimed another youthful face, a boy destined to become a master Artisan, looking up to Y/N despite the secrets he harbored.

"Salutations! I am Jinhua, and this is my little sister, Hua," Jinhua introduced with a casual air, while Hua, more assertive, offered to teach Y/N hand-to-hand combat.

The world around Y/N seemed to spin ever faster, yet his heart remained heavy, a sense of foreboding clouding his days. "Y/N, this Heliobus has sensed a feeling of angst in you. Pray tell, do you wish for me to burn it away?" inquired the Flint Emperor, aware of Y/N's inner turmoil.

"Y/N, how many times must I say? I am Huaiyan, Master of the Zhuming Artisan Commission, and no blade must be left unvoided from my inspection!" Huaiyan proclaimed, still serving as Y/N's personal blacksmith against all odds.

His life, filled with encounters and voices calling him to paths untraveled, continued to unspool. Politicians berated him, allies offered him places of refuge, and voices of dissent and support echoed around him. Each interaction was a reminder of the complex tapestry of his existence.

"Stop it," Y/N whispered to himself, his mind reeling from the relentless pace of events.

"Today, the High Cloud Quintet will be formed. Are you certain you don't want to be part of it, Y/N?" Jingliu's question came on a day laden with significance, her voice tinged with sadness at his inevitable refusal.

And the worst of it all...

"You are not the same, Y/N. Centuries we have lived together, and here you are... still hiding something from me. Tell me, am I not enough for you?" Jingliu confronted him one evening, her figure silhouetted against the twilight, the Shard Sword in her hand not just a weapon but a symbol of the distance between them.

Y/N, clad in his knight's armor, faced her, his heart heavy with secrets and regrets. "I've had enough," he declared, the weight of his second life—its trials, its repetitions, its unmet promises—crushing him.

The floodgates of his emotions burst open, revealing the depth of his despair and disillusionment. Jingliu's form, once vibrant and real, seemed to freeze, her reaction—or lack thereof—confirming his darkest fears.

Now, he knew. He hadn't been granted a second chance at life but was ensnared in a crueler fate—a simulation, a test, a purgatory designed to mock his deepest desires.

With a roar that tore through the stillness of the night, Y/N shouted to the heavens, "SHOW YOURSELF! I WILL TOLERATE YOUR DECEPTION NO LONGER!"

The world responded by dissolving into the same oppressive darkness that had haunted him since his heart was torn asunder by the Great One.

"You have been given the privilege to live this second chance, and yet, you falter once more."

Y/N spun around, his heart pounding as he faced the source of the voice. Fear, pure and unadulterated, filled his eyes as he beheld the figure before him—a shadow warrior of immense power with glowing flame-like purple hair, glowing purple eyes, two curved black horns, and sharp claws. He also wore jet-black armor and a long smoky black cloak.

"I have watched and observed your actions from start to now," the figure declared, its voice filling the space with a weight that felt like a physical force.

Y/N stood frozen, his earlier confidence shattered by the realization that he was not alone in his journey. The figure before him, a reflection of his own inner turmoil, spoke again, its tone unyielding.

"I created the world before you at your worst peak—your chance to change was nothing but naught."

Gritting his teeth, Y/N found his voice, his defiance rekindling as he faced his accuser. "It is my right! My chance to change!"

The shadowy figure's eyes narrowed, its voice a cold rebuke. "Pathetic. You claim to change, yet you have achieved nothing significant. The impact of your actions remains as negligible as our last lives. "

Y/N paused, his mind racing as he processed the words. "Our?" he echoed, a chill running down his spine.

The entity stomped its feet and the shadows responded to it. "I am the record of your bitter struggle. I am the evidence of your resistance. I am the reward of your pain. I am death, I am eternal rest, and I am also terror. I am you," the figure revealed, its words a sentence and a revelation all at once.

End of Chapter