Indialectical Destiny

"What is this?" Akabane Tsubaki was stunned.

Xu Xiaoyou said nothing, silently tucking the slip of paper back into the woman's hand.

The one who wrote the note must have been the woman's mother. As for the mother's fate... her complex gaze fell upon the white bones beneath the woman.

With the plague raging and the kingdom in chaos, the mother could only huddle with her monster-turned daughter in this cold basement until the final moment arrived.

Tragedies happened every second in this world, and most were nothing like the epic, tragic masterpieces penned by playwrights on stage. The darkness of the world, the coldness of the long night, the suffering ordained by birth, the gloom of human nature, and the faint flickers of light were the true keynotes of these stories.

Unrecorded, unsung, and forgotten by all.

If the gaze of the Miserere had not scanned this corner of the world, who would have thought that a kingdom had been destroyed by a raging plague?

Akabane Tsubaki also thought of something, her eyes lowering slightly.

In the four great Tower Cities, countless people of Red Heaven threw themselves forward every second, filling the bottomless abyss with their lives, sacrificing not just their youth and freedom, but their very existence, all to secure peace for the next generation.

But after they died, who would record their stories and pass them on to those who followed?

Dying in the bellies of insects and being forgotten—this was the fate of most Red Heaven soldiers.

"Yuzu..." Akabane Tsubaki suddenly spoke, looking hesitant after Xu Xiaoyou turned her gaze toward her.

"What is it?"

Akabane Tsubaki seemed to have gathered a great deal of mental preparation before asking, "If one day you encountered a destiny you had to face, what would you do?"

"I would accept my fate with a calm mind, and then, swiftly and decisively end everything."

Xu Xiaoyou's answer surprised Akabane Tsubaki; the girl spoke calmly, without any hesitation.

It was as if the blonde girl had pondered this question long ago and had already provided the answer within her heart.

"If I know the destiny I might face, I prepare enough chips before it arrives and accept all the possible costs I might bear and the final outcome. That is my consistent style."

"Is that so...?" Akabane Tsubaki stroked the mask in her hands, her gaze lingering on the red flower mark on the spider face's forehead.

Yuzu's outlook was so broad and open-minded, she thought.

In contrast to herself, despite gathering her courage and making a firm resolution many times, she would subconsciously lose heart and think of escaping before long.

Why was it she who was chosen by the Red Tree?

Why was it she who held the Red Mandate, burdened like the protagonists of so many myths with the responsibility of raising a divine artifact and rebelling against the gods?

She was nowhere near as strong as that Scarlet Dancer, nor was her willpower even a hundredth as resilient. Even the Crimson Cloud had shattered because it refused to acknowledge her.

She just wanted to live a carefree life, meeting important companions along the way and honing herself alongside them on a journey. Whether it was a heart-pounding adventure or a warm and beautiful daily life, that was the future she yearned for.

She just wanted to be like a normal girl, running freely under the blue sky, pursuing her individuality, playing games, watching soap operas, eating at every snack stall, and after class, punishing evil and upholding justice.

She had no grand ambitions or noble ideals.

If only someone could come and help her hold the divine artifact, lift all the heavy burdens from her shoulders, and comfort her by whispering in her ear, "It's okay, leave everything to me from now on."

She really, really just wanted to be an ordinary girl.

Akabane Tsubaki's mind was a mess. Thinking about how the disaster that would end the world was approaching, how so many soldiers were fighting to the death in the four great Tower Cities, and how countless hopeful eyes were fixed upon her, she couldn't help but feel a heavier sense of guilt for having such petty thoughts.

At that moment, the wailing of a child caught the attention of the two in the room. After the woman's death, her relaxed body had automatically expelled the infant from her womb.

The infant lay on the dirty, yellowed sheets, soaked in amniotic fluid, with the umbilical cord still attached to its belly. Its thin, tender arms waved in the air, its skin so white it was nearly transparent, allowing the tiny blue veins to be seen clearly.

It was hard to imagine that the infant from the woman's womb was actually uninfected by the plague, showing not a single rodent-like feature.

After a brief cry, the infant's voice became thin. Life seemed so fragile, as if a gust of wind could drown out its sound.

Before long, the infant's breathing stopped. In this cold world, for this tiny life, experiencing brief pain and passing away before opening its eyes was perhaps the best outcome.

Akabane Tsubaki watched the life that had bloomed like a night-flowering cereus and withered just as quickly, dazed and overwhelmed. A question couldn't help but surface in her heart.

Why is destiny ordained?

What people commonly recognized as destiny was the mandate of heaven.

Rather than fate and luck, the innate nature, conditions, and traits of an individual were called the mandate of heaven, referring to the predetermined trajectory of life and events.

Even someone like Yuzu, when facing destiny, only said she would be fully prepared to welcome its arrival.

Facing this question, Tsubaki couldn't even put forward a dialectical viewpoint. Just as diviners loved to say, all gifts in this world were marked with a price in the shadows. Even a power transcending the gods could not reverse heat death, and the strongest life could only quietly watch the universe move toward its end in the endless river of time. Before the torrent of destiny, people were like newborn babies—stark naked, helpless, and insignificant.

So, why is destiny ordained?

Akabane Tsubaki wondered.

It was a question that could not be debated with words.

Xu Xiaoyou naturally didn't know what was going through the messy mind of this little family head. She leaned down and found another strand of blue hair by the woman's bedside.

Everything confirmed the judgment in Xu Xiaoyou's heart.

Tang Xin had truly been here.

But not in the Oasis.

...

The once-bustling tavern now seemed quiet. A melodious and graceful violin tune echoed through the air of the establishment.

Sunlight slanted in, gilding every strand of hair drifting in the air with a soft halo. With a light spin, the girl's dance steps—alternating between rising and falling—crossed the simple stage, a sense of melancholy flowing within her deep blue eyes.

Her tranquil temperament made her look like a moving elf. Her five fingers lightly plucked the strings, plucking at the hearts of every guest below the stage.

As the girl's footsteps stopped, the melodious tune, full of sorrow, drifted away into the air. Sparse applause rang out from below the stage.

Sevia Winter held her long dress and bent her knees in a curtsy to the audience. Even if her past memories were blurred and unclear, she had played this song, "La La Land," many times. The moment she shouldered the violin, the melody leaped through her wrists and fingers, and she couldn't help but play the piece.

"Good, another one!" the broad-shouldered lord, Jolf Starfall, cheered loudly for her.

"Another one! Another one!" a circle of people around him echoed.

Sevia Winter's eyes were calm as she lightly closed them, her slender fingertips touching the bow, beginning her performance once again.

A girl with no one to rely on, walking in such a world, would naturally attract the attention of others.

To avoid unnecessary trouble, she had cast the magic of the Stars on herself. People would subconsciously overlook her dim appearance, and when the music of her performance rang out, all the restlessness in the listeners' hearts would be smoothed away, leaving them to immerse themselves in the touch of the purest artistic influence.