Chapter 196: Chapter 196

Within the Pantheon.

“Crack…crack…crack…”

A fine, distinct shattering noise echoed through the spacious great hall, instantly pulling the End Witch out of her reverie.

The moment she realized what was happening, a peculiar look flickered across her face—unprecedented surprise and…something else.

Obviously, even she had never expected that, so soon after the seal had been reinforced, the Chain of Order would once again show signs of abnormality.

Only a short while ago, all her means of contact with her own follower had been cut off, leaving her alone to wait in this empty hall for the results.

Yet, in the blink of an eye, there were fresh developments.

Judging by how badly the Chain of Order had fractured this time, it seemed that the scale of fate’s deviation had grown far beyond her expectations.

Miss Witch studied the deep cracks visibly marring the reinforced seal.

Though the power of the seal still vexed her, at least now she had reclaimed a small measure of her strength.

By her estimation, her present capabilities were roughly twice what they were before the seal’s reinforcement—which meant her ability to affect reality had grown accordingly.

Just what did my follower do?

If it wasn’t a deviation great enough to alter someone’s future direction entirely, it couldn’t possibly have come this far.

Is he…in danger?

Did my previous actions place added pressure on him, forcing him into something so desperate?

The End Witch’s brow creased slightly, a flash of regret stirring in her eyes.

In the very next second, a torrent of memories rushed through her mind. The Kushustern descent incident, along with everything that transpired afterward, came flooding into her consciousness.

As the memories pieced themselves together, even Miss Witch failed to notice how her crimson eyes flickered and how her elegant brows furrowed, as though unsettled by something.

Right at the story’s most critical juncture—where Lynn was concerned—everything abruptly cut off.

Miss Witch drew a deep breath.

She knew full well that this was Lynn’s unique “world’s impurity” trait at work.

Once he was gone from his past self—or rather, absent too long from the vision of Yveste—he would disappear entirely from the course of history, impossible to find even in the next hundred thousand years.

All that would remain were traces marking that “Lynn Bartleon” had, in fact, once existed.

What on earth happened that night?

Where…did he go, and who took him away?

Such questions crowded her thoughts, bringing a look of turmoil to the End Witch’s face.

After a moment, she recalled that with the seal this badly damaged, perhaps she could again descend across time into her follower’s body—just as she’d done in the past.

Though tampering with the past would drain her essence significantly, she no longer cared.

At that thought, Miss Witch closed her eyes. Almost effortlessly, she sensed that anchor mark within her spiritual realm that belonged to her follower, Lynn.

In the past, it was through this mark that she communicated with him—or drew him through time into the Pantheon.

One crucial point remained:

As she had once explained, in this world, no matter how mighty a god might be, they could not alter the River of Time nor meddle with the past or the future.

Logically, having been defeated by God-progenitor Shia and subsequently sealed, the End Witch should be no exception to that rule.

But she was precisely the one god who defied it.

Granted, her raw power did factor in, but that wasn’t the main reason.

The key lay in Lynn, the variable in this world.

Only he was “special,” existing without past or future.

Put another way:

If this world were likened to a book, with the flow of time representing the pages, then Lynn was like a leaf pressed between them.

Wherever he existed in time, that “page” would be opened up and observed.

In other words, to accomplish any act of interfering with time, Lynn was the indispensable pivot.

Without him, even Miss Witch could never influence the past.

That was also why none of the other deities, existing ten thousand years in the future—despite knowing how history would unfold—could cross time to strangle Yveste in her cradle.

Even the world’s will would not permit such a thing, or else all order would collapse.

With a surge of powerful mental energy, Miss Witch gently touched the Divine Chosen Imprint belonging to her follower, striving to call out to him.

But no response came, even after a long while.

Although the Divine Chosen Imprint could maintain a connection between them, in some sense, it was one-way.

Even during her prior possession of Lynn’s body, or those times she had pulled him into the Pantheon, had he not granted unconscious consent, she could not have done it, no matter how much more powerful she might be.

At the moment, the silence in his mental realm indicated that Lynn was in dire straits.

Not only that.

She had a vague feeling—perhaps just a hunch—that, through the Divine Chosen Imprint, a chaotic fate was surging within him, like coarse, tangled threads weaving back and forth in his body, endlessly shaping his future path.

At that, her expression changed.

What happened?

Why do I sense the aura of that being?!

A grim look crossed the End Witch’s face. She did not hesitate for a second; her entire body blazed with crimson divine power.

In the depths of her bright-red eyes, an immense star chart flickered and spun.

Sensing her follower in grave peril, she decided to act no matter the risk.

But just then, the End Witch felt a faint stirring of intuition—some subtle premonition.

As though…once she intervened, the past and present would undergo unknown changes.

She couldn’t tell whether those changes would be good or bad, only that they would definitely affect the Pantheon, which by all rights should remain constant.

Miss Witch inhaled slowly.

In the worst-case scenario, the seal might be reinforced once more, or the Damocles Sword might descend early.

Neither possibility came as any surprise—she’d already prepared herself mentally.

“Buzz!”

Along with a violent surge of divine might, the End Witch made her move.

In that instant, crimson light flared. The entire temple quaked.

Long had it been since she unleashed her power in full.

She no longer concerned herself with whether this might alert the other gods or invite their prying eyes.

Time blurred. Perhaps it was a moment, or perhaps ages had passed.

Then Miss Witch’s strength subsided. She slowly opened her eyes, palms upturned.

Cradled within her hand was a chaotic tangle of luminous strands, each thread seemingly alive, spiraling about in a mesmerizing dance.

This mass of countless mysterious threads was the very culprit behind her follower’s condition.

It was a power belonging to Fate—linked inextricably to the world’s will—bizarre beyond imagination.

If not extracted swiftly, it could threaten his very life.

Also…where on earth did he obtain such a force?

Getting tangled up with that mysterious entity was certainly no blessing.

Miss Witch’s brow tensed.

As urgent as it was, she could not appear by her follower’s side right away.

One might call it a vicious cycle.

If not for his eagerness to free her sooner, he would never have used such a perilous method.

A flicker of remorse flashed in her cool gaze. She let out the faintest of sighs.

Stowing away the snarl of fate threads for later study, she turned to head up the stairs, lifting the hem of her gown.

But before her bare, pale foot could take a step, the sight before her brought her up short.

Her crimson pupils widened fractionally.

It was the first time in her long sojourn within the Pantheon—aside from matters involving her follower—that she betrayed such stark astonishment.

No wonder.

No wonder she’d felt that glimmer of divine foreboding a moment ago.

Perhaps her unprecedented meddling with the past had impacted the Pantheon.

But…why her?

What exactly did my follower do in those days ten thousand years ago…?

All manner of questions swirled in Miss Witch’s mind, leaving her more puzzled than ever.

She silently studied the phenomenon, at a loss for words.

It was a large cocoon, roughly the size of a carriage, woven from moonlight. It emitted a gentle, tranquil power, wrapped in layers of gauzy radiance that made the view inside hazy at best.

Its appearance had been so abrupt that not a single ripple of energy had betrayed it. Miss Witch hadn’t sensed it at all.

She could detect a certain compatibility with fate emanating from it—
as though it had always been here in this hall, ever accompanying her.

Fixing her gaze more intently, Miss Witch finally made out an exquisitely beautiful elven girl in a pristine white gown, serenely asleep at the heart of that moonlit cocoon.

---

「Your Highness, still no word on Lynn…」

「Useless…all of you are useless!!!」

In the study, objects clattered violently amid a woman’s voice, ragged and laced with fury. She was practically beside herself with rage.

An entire night had passed since the Tomb of the Silent Dead incident.

But even now, her subordinates had found no trace of Lynn.

As though he’d vanished into thin air. After leaving that old factory, he disappeared completely from Glostein.

Besides them, countless other factions in the Imperial Capital were also searching for him—or hunting him—so time was of the essence. Any delay could place him in mortal danger.

Already in a foul mood, Yveste finally erupted, brutalizing these fools with a severe tongue-lashing.

Those under her command trembled like cicadas in winter, not daring a word.

Perhaps without that fellow by her side, Her Highness the Princess had reverted to her old, irritable, and arrogant self.

Or maybe she had never changed at all—Lynn’s presence had merely masked that side of her.

But just as everyone cowered, a bright idea suddenly dawned on one of them.

Greya raised his voice slightly:
「Your Highness, from the rumors I’ve heard, it seems the Silent Saintess also disappeared at the same time as Lynn. Is there a chance that—?」

As the words left his lips, everyone present froze, then glared daggers at Greya, as if they wanted to strangle him.

Greya offered a sheepish smile.

Damn it!

Are you really that clueless, or are you just pretending?!

Why bring this up now, of all times?!

Setting aside how much truth there might be, don’t you know what kind of personality our Highness has?!

Sure enough.

In the next moment, an icy, suffocating aura of menace and killing intent surged, and Yveste’s crimson gaze pinned Greya in place.

We’re done for!

All present felt a collective stab of panic.

Yet what could they do now? They could only silently curse Greya for being a pigheaded teammate while praying Her Highness would spare their lives.

Fortunately, she still needed these subordinates’ help.

「Three days.」 Her voice was cold and terrifying. 「You have three days. Either you find him or…」

She didn’t finish the sentence, but everyone knew exactly how heavy those words were.

If they failed to find Lynn, their fates would likely be sealed.

「Y-Yes, Your Highness!!!」

Watching her underlings flee in terror, Yveste slowly pressed a hand over her cheek and took a deep breath.

Within, an almost irrepressible urge to destroy, to kill, was boiling over.

Her trembling, burning breaths betrayed how Yveste’s nature was dangerously close to surfacing, her mind nearing a critical threshold.

「Damn it…」