"Probably… to be precise," the wanderer said. "Luya is your first descendant."
Lioraen froze. His eyes widened so much you might have thought he'd had a stroke.
"What?!"
**I'm watching your child. She's very much like you.**
"Wha… what?!" He freaked out. "I don't… I don't have a child!"
**Calm down, brat! Tsk! She isn't born yet.**
He eased up a little.
"So you're reading my future?"
**How can I read something that isn't fixed?** The wanderer scoffed. **There is no such thing as that.**
"You said you can read fate!" he snapped.
**When did I say that?** the sly voice defended itself. **There is no such thing as fate from my perspective.**
"You definitely said it!"
The voice sighed.
**What time do you think it is?**
"Time?"
He looked up.
"The sun isn't out y—"
**Not that time.**
"Present."
**Wrong.**
Lioraen frowned.
"Past, then?"
**Wrong.**
"Future."
**Wrong.**
They both went silent.
"So what is it?"
**Doesn't matter.**
Lioraen trembled in anger.
"What the hell is your problem?!"
**There is something known as the Block Universe Theory. It is also known as Eternalism,** the wanderer explained.
"Eternalism?"
He glanced at a rock nearby and went to sit on it.
**The past, present, and future all exist at the same time.**
"Huh? Is that even possible?"
**Think of time not as a flowing river, but as a solid block.**
**Imagine this:**
**Picture a huge book.**
* Every page is a moment in time
* Page one is the past
* The middle pages are what you call "now"—the present
* The last pages are the future
**The whole book already exists. It never ends. You're just reading one page at a time.**
"I doubt that," Lioraen objected. "The past exists because it already happened. The present is happening—but the future…"
The wanderer laughed.
**Why does time feel like it's moving?**
"Because it moves?"
**Because your consciousness moves, not time. Time is useless from a grand perspective. It was created to fit the mortal mind.**
"That means everything is fixed?" He stood up. "If reality is a book, like you explained, then we're all prearranged."
**Now where is the fun in that?**
He could almost hear the wanderer smirk.
**Past, present, and future exist simultaneously, but they are non-dominant over one another.**
**They coexist.**
**Think of time as parallel strands, not a single rope. The past exists, forming scenarios. The future exists as possibilities shaped by those scenarios. The present is where everything is decided.**
**They are linked, but causality is local, not global. What happens in one moment isn't written in advance—it is created as it takes place, reorienting the path forward.**
Lioraen scratched his head.
"Aah… I don't get it."
**A mortal mind can't comprehend something outside good and evil. I can't be surprised that you don't understand.**
"So, there is no fixed fate?"
**Fate is only visible when you play an obvious pattern—the pattern played by the masses. Some endings are simply too predictable. Endpoints can be glimpsed if your current pattern remains unbroken.**
"Oh…"
Somehow, the words Lioraen couldn't grasp brought him comfort.
**As awesome as I am,** the wanderer grinned, **I can read all creating pages.**
Lioraen frowned.
**I see Luya accepting the marriage proposal.**
"Stop watching that!"
**I see how your mother sacrificed her eyes to save the baby that died in her womb.**
He went mute. His mind drifted back to Serathiel—her unconditional love, the way she would smile at him even when she couldn't see him.
"Hey, wanderer. Is she alright? Her soul…"
**The earthlings say, let the dead bury the dead. She lived her life.**
"Can't you check?"
**I can't. It doesn't matter.**
"Ain't you supposed to know all?!"
**Where is the fun in knowing all?** the wanderer chuckled. **I can see all endings outside the realm—that's why I go inside realms. Now I can only see probabilities.**
"Isn't it great to know all?"
**It's a bother. Why do you think gods created realms? To get busy and figure things out.**
Lioraen nodded. Since he had begun the conversation, he finally remembered to glance around for any signs of monsters. That was when he noticed a lady standing a few feet away from him, staring with widened eyes.
She wore a wildlife cloak, mud boots, gloves, and had her dark hair rolled into a bun.
"Young man… are you talking to yourself?"
He stared at her.
*She's fully armed. Wildlife hunt animals. With the monster raid, it's their time to shine.*
"Young man. Are you okay?" she asked again. "Why ain't you in a camp?"
*I need to get back to the others.*
He turned away and began leaving. This startled her.
"Hey!"
He didn't reply.
"Hey! Come—"
"Leave him be."
The lady turned around and bowed to the person who spoke.
"Unit Commander!"
The stern-looking commander stared at Lioraen till he was out of sight. She then shook her head.
"Naive child."
"Shouldn't we go after him?" the first lady asked. "He might get hurt with all these roaming monsters."
"We already have enough to worry about," the commander waved, turning around to leave. "We need to return to camp and alert the others."
The first lady sighed, going after her.
> >
Lioraen caught up to Nuia and the divine beings in a flash. They had followed Nuia's direction reluctantly. Despite the argument and uncertainty, they were staring at a camp at last.
"She was right," Suri grumbled.
"Yeah," Othello agreed.
Nuia huffed, caressing her short hair.
"I'm always right. I'm from the high family, after all."
"We already heard you!" they snapped back.
Lioraen appeared from behind them, startling them.
"Let's go."
"Where have you been?" Othello was the first to run after him.
"Here and there," he muttered.
Together, the four of them approached the camp.
It appeared just beyond the hill.
Wooden walls circled the area, tall and solid, with gaps filled by metal. Fires burned inside, thin smoke rising into the gray sky. Tents were packed close together. People moved quietly, heads low, faces tired.
Surrounding the camp were the bodies of the killed monsters. Some men volunteered to clean it up.
Figures stood atop the wall.
Guards.
Their armor matched, scratched and stained, showing their brawl with the monsters. Spears and relics pointed downward. One of them raised a hand.
"Stop there."
Lioraen's group froze.
"State your number," the guard said. His voice was flat. Tired. Not unkind, but not warm either.
"Four," Lioraen answered.
The guard's eyes moved over them, slow and sharp. He lingered on Othello. Then on the dark stains on the road behind them.
"Any bites?" another guard called.
"No," Suri said.
Silence followed.
A second guard leaned over the wall, staring too hard, like he expected something to move wrong. His hand tightened around his spear.
"Turn your palms out," he ordered.
They obeyed.
The gate did not open.
For a moment, only the fires inside the camp cracked and popped.
The first guard spoke again.
"Stay where you are."
"Let me do it," Nuia huffed. She stepped forward, but before she could say a word, a voice cut through the air behind them.
"Lioraen?"
TBC...