Free Web NovelChapter 799: The future didn’t seem empty.
The golden wind continued to slowly drift across the green fields around the small white table, making the grass ripple like a silent ocean under the warm light of that impossible sun. The luminous petals still floated lazily through the air, while the soft scent of freshly served tea mingled with the natural perfume of the flowers scattered across the plain. After the last shared laugh about Samael drawing crowns on fish, the atmosphere sank into a comfortable silence, the kind that doesn’t demand immediate filling.
Vergil remained leaning back in his chair, observing the distant horizon with slightly narrowed eyes. Although the conversation had taken on a surprisingly light tone at times, the worry within him remained intact. Lucy was still a mystery. Perhaps now an even greater mystery than before.
Because, until a few hours ago, he only suspected there was something unusual about her.
Now he knew that even Metatron couldn’t properly classify her.
And worse.
The very supreme entity of creation seemed uncomfortably cautious when speaking about her existence.
This was never a good sign.
Celeste watched her grandson in silence as she slowly swirled the spoon in the teacup, producing a delicate porcelain sound that seemed strangely loud in that endless field. Her golden eyes now held a more melancholic serenity, like someone watching ancient threads of fate slowly move before her.
Vergil finally sighed.
"So we remain without concrete answers."
Celeste tilted her head slightly.
"It depends on what you consider an answer."
"Something less worrying would be a good start."
She let out a small, low laugh before placing the cup back on the white saucer.
"Lucy is a rare existence. Perhaps unique." Her fingers slowly slid along the delicate edge of the porcelain as she spoke. "But that doesn’t automatically mean danger."
Vergil gave her a dry look.
"All powerful creatures say that before a catastrophe happens."
"And they’re usually wrong."
"That doesn’t help my confidence." Celeste smiled discreetly.
"You’re very dramatic when you’re worried."
Vergil immediately replied:
"I’m extremely reasonable."
"Of course."
He completely ignored the comment.
For a few moments, only the wind spoke between them. Small golden butterflies slowly crossed the field near the table, briefly landing on some white flowers before taking flight again. That place seemed incapable of producing real tension for very long.
Perhaps it had been planned exactly like that.
Vergil observed the movement of the landscape for a few seconds before finally returning to the matter that truly mattered.
"What happens now?"
Celeste looked up at him.
"With Lucy?"
"Yes."
She remained silent for a brief moment, clearly choosing her words carefully.
"Now..." Her gaze softened slightly. "Time will do what it always does."
Vergil narrowed his eyes.
"That’s a dangerously abstract answer." "Because her situation hasn’t finished forming yet." Celeste delicately crossed her hands in her lap as the wind stirred her long golden hair. "Lucy is still growing. Her soul is still organizing itself. Concepts within her are still slowly awakening."
Vergil rested his elbow on the table.
"So she can change."
"Everyone changes."
"You know what I mean."
Celeste nodded slowly.
"Yes." She briefly glanced at the distant horizon. "She can develop new abilities. New spiritual properties. Perhaps fragmented conceptual memories. Perhaps none of that."
Vergil made a small, irritated noise through his nose.
"I hate open-ended answers."
"I know."
"Is that why you keep giving them?"
"Partially."
This elicited an involuntary, tired chuckle from him.
Celeste observed the reaction with a small, satisfied glint in her eyes.
Then her expression softened again.
"But there is one thing I’m sure of."
Vergil immediately noticed the change in her tone.
He straightened slightly in his chair.
"What?"
Celeste watched the wind sweeping across the green fields for a few seconds before answering. When she finally spoke, her voice sounded lower. Older.
"You two are connected."
Vergil frowned slightly.
"Connected how?"
She slowly raised one hand.
For a moment, small golden particles began to appear around her fingers, soft as sunlit dust. The air before them rippled discreetly, like the tranquil surface of a lake touched by something invisible.
Then Vergil saw.
A line.
Thin.
Red.
It slowly appeared before his eyes like a delicate thread stitching the very space around the table. The line glowed softly under the golden light of the plain, pulsing with a strangely alive presence.
Vergil immediately narrowed his eyes.
"...What is this?"
Celeste observed the thread with absolute calm.
"The thread of destiny."
The red line floated smoothly between her fingers, crossing the void towards the distant horizon, as if it continued infinitely beyond that place.
Vergil remained silent, observing.
Even though it was incredibly thin, the presence of that thread seemed absurd. Not in the usual magical sense. There was something profoundly inevitable about it. Like a truth too ancient to be denied.
Celeste slowly moved her fingers.
The red thread glowed more intensely.
"It connects souls destined to change each other."
Vergil continued staring at it without saying anything.
She then turned her golden eyes to him.
"Your thread is connected to Lucy’s."
The wind blew slowly between them.
Vergil observed the red glow for a few seconds before finally speaking:
"Destiny." His voice carried an immediate skepticism. "I never really liked that word."
"Because you prefer to believe you control everything alone."
"Because most entities use ’destiny’ to justify manipulation."
Celeste smiled softly.
"An extremely valid criticism." freewёbnoνel.com
Vergil turned his eyes back to the red thread.
"...And what exactly does that mean?"
She remained silent for a moment.
Then she calmly replied:
"That you two have become indispensable to each other."
The sentence hit harder than he expected.
Vergil immediately looked away, as if the very emotional reflection of that idea was too irritating to face directly.
Celeste noticed.
Naturally.
"You already knew that."
Vergil let out a small, tired sigh.
"I don’t like it when feelings are transformed into cosmic phenomena."
"Unfortunately, the universe does that often."
The red thread continued to glow softly before them.
Vergil watched it silently now.
There was something deeply unsettling about that image.
Not because he rejected Lucy.
Quite the opposite.
Perhaps precisely because he didn’t reject her.
Lucy had entered his life like an impossible accident and, somehow, had become absurdly essential. She slept clutching the sleeve of his coat. She sought his approval for absolutely everything. She smiled as if he were the most trustworthy creature in the entire universe.
And worse...
He smiled back.
Celeste watched intently the silent change in his expression.
"You’re scared."
Vergil replied immediately:
"No."
"Liar."
"Exaggeration."
She let out a small, low laugh.
"Vergil."
He closed his eyes for a second before finally admitting, in a lower voice:
"...I’m worried."
Celeste didn’t answer immediately.
She simply watched the red thread shimmering softly between them as the wind swept across the golden fields.
"That’s normal."
Vergil opened his eyes again.
"Normal for whom?"
"For someone who finally possesses something important enough to lose."
The silence that followed grew heavier.
Vergil remained motionless for a few full seconds.
Because that phrase hit precisely where he least liked to look.
Celeste continued softly:
"You spent a long time existing without much to protect, your childhood was just you and your mother." Her golden eyes remained calm. "Alone at school. Alone at work. Alone in pride."
Vergil looked away at the distant horizon.
"I haven’t been alone for a long time." frёewebηovel.cѳm
"You awakened as a Demon a year and a half ago."
He didn’t answer.
Because he didn’t have a good enough answer.
The wind blew again, slowly moving her golden hair as small luminous particles disappeared into the air around her wings.
Celeste then observed the red thread once more.
"That connection cannot be broken easily."
Vergil immediately turned his eyes to her.
"Easily?"
She smiled slightly.
"You pay attention to the right words."
"Professional habit."
Celeste rested her face on one hand.
"Destiny isn’t an absolute prison." Her voice became more contemplative. "But some bonds... become too strong to disappear completely."
Vergil watched each word intently now.
"What exactly does Lucy represent to me?"
Celeste thought for a few moments before answering.
"Perhaps a second chance."
Vergil immediately made a tired expression.
"That was extremely philosophical."
"I tried to avoid it."
"Failed miserably."
She laughed again.
But then her expression softened once more.
"Lucy appeared at the moment you needed her most."
Vergil let out a small, incredulous laugh.
"You speak as if she was deliberately sent."
Celeste remained silent.
That was enough. Vergil slowly narrowed his eyes.
"...Don’t make that mysterious expression."
"I didn’t make any expression."
"Exactly. That’s the worst one."
Celeste was clearly amused now.
Vergil brought a hand to his face.
"This whole family speaks in riddles."
"Genetic inheritance."
"You literally invented genetics."
"And I’m still very proud of it."
Vergil let out another low chuckle through his nose before shaking his head negatively.
For a few moments, the two remained simply observing the endless landscape before them.
Then Celeste spoke softly:
"She trusts you completely."
Vergil replied without hesitation.
"I know."
"And you’ve already started living according to that."
He remained silent.
Because again... she was right.
Lucy was already completely altering the way he thought. How he acted. How he calculated risks. How he reacted to the world.
He destroyed dimensions without hesitation.
But now he checked the temperature of the hot chocolate before handing a small mug to someone.
That was ridiculous.
Absurd.
And strangely comfortable.
Celeste observed his distant expression and smiled softly.
"You seem happy."
Vergil immediately replied:
"Don’t exaggerate."
"Then less irritated."
"...Acceptable."
She laughed again.
And in that instant, as the golden wind swept across the endless fields around them and the red thread glowed silently between two unlikely souls...
Vergil realized something disconcerting.
For the first time in a long time...
The future didn’t seem empty.
...
[At a nonexistent 3.14159265359 light-years of time and space]
On the threshold between time, space, reality, and nonexistence, there was a place where concepts ceased to possess coherent meaning.
There were no stars.
There were no dimensions.
Not even emptiness.
What inhabited that region was something prior to the very idea of "existence." An impossible ocean of infinite structures, composed of dead thoughts, interrupted causal lines, and fragments of universes that never fully came into being. There, past and future folded upon one another like transparent layers of cracked glass, forming an endless tangle of living possibilities.
And in the center of that absolute chaos...
She observed.
Yog-Sothoth remained motionless on a nonexistent platform, suspended above the infinite currents of the multiverse. Its presence lacked a stable form; the reality around it constantly hesitated, unable to decide what appearance it should assume. Still, at that moment, she chose to appear as a woman.
A tall, elegant figure enveloped in black robes adorned with golden patterns that moved slowly like liquid galaxies. Her long, dark hair floated without wind, occasionally dissolving into abstract nebulae before reshaping itself. Her eyes, however, were the truly disturbing part.
They contained no pupils.
Nor irises.
Within them existed entire universes slowly spinning in silent spirals.
Billions of timelines reflected in her vision simultaneously.
Every choice.
Every death.
Every birth.
Every discarded possibility.
Everything existed before her like luminous threads traversing countless eternities.
Yog-Sothoth observed those ramifications in absolute silence while countless cosmic structures moved beneath her nonexistent feet. Some timelines shone intensely before suddenly disappearing. Others branched out into thousands of new possibilities. Some were completely rotten, consumed by paradoxes and impossible events.
But one specific line remained different.
It pulsed.
Alive.
Unstable.
Free.
The outer goddess’s eyes slowly narrowed as she watched that single anomaly traversing infinity like a luminous crack in the causal order of the universe.
Then...
She smiled.
A small smile.
Constrained.
But genuinely satisfied.
Finally.
After billions of years watching cycles repeat endlessly, witnessing realities born only to inevitably return to the same imposed fate...
Finally there was a flaw.
A rupture.
Yog-Sothoth slowly closed her eyes as the very fabric of space-time trembled around her existence.
Then she sighed.
A soft sigh.
Almost relieved.
"I did it..."
Her voice echoed not through space, but through the very causal lines of the universe. Trillions of possibilities vibrated discreetly at the sound of those words.
The countless temporal threads continued to move around her like infinite cosmic roots.
But now there was disorder.
True change.
Something that shouldn’t exist.
The outer goddess slowly raised one hand, and hundreds of billions of luminous branches immediately approached her, swirling around her delicate fingers like serpents made of liquid time.
"After billions of years..."
Her voice sounded almost weary now.
"...I finally managed to break my father’s temporal flow."
The universe around her trembled.
Not out of hostility.
But out of recognition.
Because this was not a small causal alteration.
It was an absolute affront to the primordial structure of existence.
For countless ages, the supreme temporal flow had remained closed. Circular. Predestined. Each causal line eventually returned to the same central axis, no matter how many variables arose along the way.
A perfect system.
Inescapable.
Created by an entity even older than the outer gods themselves.
Her father.
The primordial origin of inevitability.
And for the first time...
That flow had been broken.
Yog-Sothoth watched the new ramifications grow infinitely before her like luminous roots piercing the conceptual void of the cosmos.
True chaos.
True free will.
Possibilities no longer bound to the original axis of creation.
"With this, Daddy will be able to devour Azathoth," she stated.
