Death can easily be administered to anyone regardless of how successful they were in life.
A god agrees with the nihilist in this story.
There are many tragedies in this story. Many fortunes arising, too.
But the god and the antichrist don't car...
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Great Expectations
Arvedonia Monastery, Vicenecce, Saprea
Cassius's heart pounded very loudly in his ears at the thought of marriage. The lovely fitted robes of crimson and stygian black fell on his shoulders and rested at his feet. His cape was clasped together with the sigil of House Valicios, a golden phoenix. A dozen rings studded his hands with every imaginable gem. Only his left ring finger was bare. He kept those hands clenched together, folded neatly in front of him.
"You should get dressed up like this wherever you go," Ambrosio whispered, fabricating his spirit from thin air. "Don't you know that when you pass away whatever you're wearing is the outfit that your ghost will be wearing forever?"
The bells tolled and the grand ornate doors opened.
Ambrosio rested a hand on Cassius's shoulder. "Do you know when you're going to die? It might be tonight. It might be now. You don't want to be in a raggedy shirt and ill-fitted pants forever, do you? You'd probably be too ashamed to haunt anyone. Take my wife, for example, Desdemona. You saw her appearance. She looked terrible—but don't mention I said that if you see her again. I mean, I died lucky. They burned my body so I got to choose an outfit from my timeline. I love suits."
Cassius's lips tightened. He gritted his teeth subtly moved his lips so that it'd appear he wasn't a lunatic talking to an invisible figure. "Go. Away."
"Oh, of course. It's your special day, baby brother." Ambrosio patted him on the back and hid in the void.
The King of Naparios walked his daughter down the aisle with pride, practically smirking underneath his stern expression at King Vale. Desyrae's face tensed as her father whispered in her ear.
"There will be no lovemaking. I intend to sit there and if he dares to lay a hand on me I will cut it off," Desyrae whispered to her father in response.
"Desyrae, you must. Give him this night. Do what he asks of you for heaven's sake," he chided silently.
"You can't make me," she argued.
"It must be done. There has to be proof that your marriage was consummated—until then your union is not legal," he said gently. "That crown will not go on your head if you choose that path."
Cassius's heart started beating rapidly when King Azariah looked at him, his face now void of emotion. Just a flicker of it showed as his gaze traveled over Cassius as if only to demean him. It was a quiet smirk. That was the only greeting that Cassius would receive from him.
His daughter, though, his daughter was beautiful. Oh, Desyrae, Cassius thought. If your name were a hymn, I'd sing it to the gods to devote my tongue to such a beautiful. If your body were an idol, I would get on my knees and worship it. But you are hellish under all that beauty. Obviously, I could see how infatuated he was with Desyrae. I shook my head. In Cassius's head, they were in love. She was a tyrant ruling his mind, but truly he realized how much he loathed her. She was just as greedy for the crown as anyone else. He knew that well enough. Why else would she agree to fight for it?
