Chains of Vengeance

Chapter 149: Obsession

Meanwhile at the cult, Narinder sat atop his own statue, a towering figure of himself that dominated the center of the cult. From there, with a privileged view, he watched the cultists hard at work. Huge blocks of stone were transported with effort and sweat to erect more monuments. His dark fur shone in the dim light of the evening, and his red eyes glowed with a glint of satisfaction. He could have helped, of course; his supernatural strength would have made the task easier in minutes, but that was not what a god did. He was the god here, and enjoying the work of his followers was his divine right. Although, he admitted to himself, he always made exceptions for Lambert and Goliath, his beloveds.

Finally, the moon rose, bathing the place in its silver light and announcing the end of the day. The cultists, exhausted, left their tools and retreated to their homes to rest. The silence of the night fell like a blanket over the cult, leaving Narinder completely alone in the vastness of his domain. That solitude deeply displeased him.

With a sigh, he descended from his statue, his movements graceful and confident, and began to walk towards the cult's exit. His destination was clear: the portal area, where the Mystic awaited.

Upon arriving, Narinder wasted no time on formalities.

"Hey, so can I have another Great Test?" he asked, his tone lacking even the slightest courtesy. "And don't give me that talk about taking it seriously and all that."

The Mystic, as always, remained unmoved, his moon-shaped head slowly bobbing as he looked at him with a look that seemed disapproving.

"About it..." he began, his voice resonating with a deep echo. I have found a potential combatant who would be the equivalent of a second test for you. And, oddly enough, the equivalent of you being the first test for him.

Narinder raised an eyebrow, intrigued by those words. Finally, something interesting on such a dull day.

"It is a contender whose laws of causality will not break the multiversal laws," the Mystic continued, "so the winner will still get three concepts from the loser, and the loser will face absolute death."

Narinder chuckled, remembering how he had flouted that rule with Goliath, who was still alive as a result of his request after the previous Great Test.

"Take it more seriously," the Mystic added, without any emotion.

Narinder rolled his eyes impatiently, crossing his arms.

"As I was saying," the Mystic continued, unfazed, "it is a very particular case. Just as you seek an answer, the opponent seeks one as well." The clues you gave me to find that universe were very useful.

Narinder blinked, puzzled.

"Clues? When did I give you clues?" he asked, frowning.

The Mystic did not answer directly, but continued:

"Still, although the difficulty will be greater for you than for him, it is curiously more balanced than I would expect. Neither has a total advantage over the other, despite the great difference in power.

Narinder frowned even more, in disbelief.

"A stronger opponent than me happens to be balanced?" he thought, confused.

"Well, let's do it now," he said, his impatience growing.

The Mystic shook his head calmly.

"It's not possible yet. Your opponent is still hesitating to cross the door."

Narinder growled, frustrated, and blurted out:

"Ugh! You're useless!"

With a snort, he added:

"What can you tell me about the opponent?"

The Mystic, always neutral, replied calmly:

"Telling you the opponent's weaknesses and major details goes against the laws of causality."

Narinder gritted his teeth, feeling a headache beginning to form. He took a deep breath and massaged his forehead.

"Well... tell me the minor details that don't break those damn laws of causality that you love so much."

The Mystic nodded slowly, and Narinder was surprised to receive an affirmative answer.

—Despite the fact that the same timeline is shared in each universe, in this universe the extermination of that race ended much earlier. The bishops wiped them all out in less than 500 years.

Narinder began to walk back and forth in front of the Mystic, lost in his thoughts as his paws left a light trail on the dusty ground. He brought the tip of a claw to his mouth, absentmindedly biting it, a habit he very rarely displayed but which revealed the intensity of his thought process.

—If my sentence was approximately a thousand years... —he muttered to himself, his eyes half-closed—. That means that, in my universe, the extermination of the lambs must have lasted about 800 years, since it took the lamb 200 years to free me. And if it also took Goliath a possibly similar amount of time... then this rival must have, at least, 300 years of advantage as a god.

The Mystic, unfazed, watched him with his moon-shaped head gently bobbing, but he did not interrupt Narinder's flow of thoughts.

"The fact that he does not enter the Great Trial directly..." Narinder continued, still walking without pause. "It means that he is not as impulsive as the goat. This rival is considering the risk and reward, he is careful which makes him even more dangerous."

Narinder stopped walking for a moment, his eyes shining brightly as he pondered.

"If he is so much stronger than me..." he whispered, with a tone that mixed curiosity and disbelief, "why would the Great Trial be balanced? What do I have that he does not?"

His gaze shifted to his own biting claw, and his mind evoked the image of his relic: the claw surrounded by the chains formed from the lives of his brothers, sealed in the Veil. It was a powerful weapon, but ever since he had sealed Shamura, he had avoided using it. Even looking at that relic gave him a feeling of repulsion, a mixture of guilt and contempt that he preferred not to analyze too much.

But before he could delve deeper into that thought, another fragment of memory appeared in his mind: the blue box. That vision he had seen in his dreams, along with the Mystic's words about "the answer."

"I have an answer for him, and he has one for me..." he repeated, whispering as the echo of the Mystic's words resonated in his mind.

The image of that blue box invaded his thoughts, accompanied by the other two boxes he had already obtained: the red one and the purple one. He remembered vividly how they had appeared in his dreams, how he had desired them with an almost irrational intensity. His breathing quickened as he recalled the obsession they had caused him.

That blue box... he wanted it. Not just for the answer it contained, but for something deeper, more instinctive. It was a wild, primal desire, an inner cry that drove him to possess it.

The loneliness he had endured for the past day had shaped him in ways that even he did not fully understand. Now that obsession burned with renewed force, filling him with determination and greed.

Narinder began to laugh softly, his voice barely a murmur at first, but charged with increasing intensity.

"I will get her..." he said, his eyes shining with excitement and his smile revealing his fangs. "Of course I will get her."

It was more than a decision; it was a promise to himself, fueled by loneliness, obsession, and the insatiable need to possess what he did not yet have. His mind was already tracing the path to that new box and the answer that awaited him inside.