Wishes(II)

Though Caine often wore the mask of apathy, there were a few things that sparked a deep, unrestrained joy within him. 

One of those was what he had just done—tearing others apart with nothing but his words.

Since his youth, he had been weak, forced to work twice as hard for half the reward. It had twisted something inside him, molding him into a man who derived immense pleasure from toying with and shattering the egos of powerful figures. 

But Caine wasn't evil by nature; he was simply... pragmatic. His sharp tongue had gotten him into more life-or-death situations than anything else. 

However, his actions were always calculated. He wouldn't jeopardize his grand plans for the fleeting joy of angering a higher entity like Augustine. No, Caine always had a goal, and in this conversation, he'd achieved exactly what he wanted.

Augustine leaned back in his throne, staring deeply at Caine, his gaze unreadable. A faint pressure began to build in the air, as if the heavens themselves were drawing nearer to the mortal plane. But soon, that pressure vanished with a sigh, and Augustine shook his head.

"Time is up, dear Defiers," Augustine said softly, his voice carrying an air of finality. "As for your question, the answer lies within your own deductions."

Caine merely shook his head, a faint, bitter smile playing on his lips. 'As expected.' He didn't mind, though—he had already gotten what he wanted from the exchange.

His teammates, now standing by his side, shifted their focus back to Augustine. Their gazes held a mixture of excitement and reverence as they awaited the next phase of this monumental encounter.

"What are your wishes?" Augustine asked, his voice calm and composed.

---

Far from the grand hall, in the boundless Void Sea of Life and Death, Augustine soared through the dark skies, his mind racing with a billion thoughts. His calm demeanor betrayed none of the turmoil within.

Suddenly, his thoughts were interrupted by a sharp, mental message.

[Have you met the target?]

'Yes,' Augustine responded without missing a beat. 'He's the perfect candidate, but it seems he's already been claimed.'

[Then why haven't you eliminated him?]

'Because,' Augustine's voice held a slight edge, 'he bears the mark of a Sinner. The Sinner.'

A pause followed, the weight of that revelation settling in.

[…]

'No need to panic,' Augustine continued. 'This festival has at least ten other Irregulars to choose from.'

[Ten? What?!]

'Yes, ten.' Augustine's tone remained steady. 'It's good news for us.'

[Good news? Are you insane? This means they were watching! You need to leave, now!]

Before the message could finish, Augustine severed the connection. His face, previously neutral, now showed a flicker of calm, confident resolve. He gazed into the distance, the image of Caine fresh in his mind.

"Caine… Caine… Caine," he whispered to himself, a smile tugging at his lips.

As a portal appeared before him, Augustine stepped through with a final thought: Hopefully, you're interesting.

---

[Unknown Location]

In a lively, rowdy bar filled with drunken revelers, two figures sat in a secluded corner, seemingly oblivious to the celebration around them.

One of the men was an older figure, bald and sporting a thick white beard. His silver armor clinked slightly as he took a swig from a large bottle, his face flushed red from drink. At his side, a sheathed sword rested on the ground, its presence hinting at countless battles.

"You need to take it easy. You're not young anymore," the second man said, his voice calm and measured.

"Who the hell are you calling old?" The bearded man grinned foolishly, his words slurred. "Since when was a man in his thousands considered old? My liver could implode, for all I care! Won't stop me from drinking until I become the beer! Hahaha!"

Beside him sat a man just as old but far more composed. His long red hair was tied into a neat bun, and his dark red and black robes hinted at his ancient lineage. Despite the power that radiated from him, his face bore only a faint smile as he sipped a simple cup of wine.

"Have you heard the news?" asked the bald man, whose name was Reiner.

Sylas, the red-haired man, shook his head. "No, I haven't. What's happening? Another war?"

Reiner sighed, taking another swig from his bottle before answering. "Worse."

Sylas's amber eyes burned with curiosity. "Worse than war?"

Reiner leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "That bastard child from the Timeless Alliance is coming."

Sylas froze, the cup in his hand trembling slightly. "What? When?"

"As we speak," Reiner replied grimly. "His mother went into labor, and she's using the entire Qi of the plane to keep him alive."

Sylas's face paled. "The entire plane's Qi? All of it?"

Reiner rolled his eyes. "Yes, all of it. What do you think I meant? She's practically draining the realm dry for this kid."

Sylas's mind raced as he processed the gravity of the situation. After a moment, he stood up, his expression hardening. "We'll wait until she's at her weakest… then we'll strike."

---

Amidst a frozen landscape of endless snow and rain, a grand castle stood tall and proud, its spires piercing the heavens. The castle's majesty dominated the horizon, casting an aura of unassailable power over the land. Inside its towering walls, a woman lay on a grand bed, her body trembling with the pain of childbirth.

Her long, dark hair, blacker than the void itself, contrasted sharply with her porcelain skin. Her eyes, glowing with an intense purple hue, flickered with both exhaustion and determination. This woman, whose beauty transcended mortal limits, was now nothing more than a mother, struggling to bring her child into the world.

Sweat poured down her forehead as she pushed with all her might, her face twisted in agony.

Around her, nurses stood at attention, offering words of encouragement. "Just one last push, Mistress! You're almost there!"

"We'll count to three, then you push with everything you've got!" the doctor instructed, his hands steady as he prepared to receive the child.

The woman nodded weakly, her body wracked with pain but her resolve unbroken.

"One… two… three—now! Push!"

With a scream that could shatter the heavens, she gave one final push, her cry echoing through the realm. The Qi around her exploded outward in a chaotic wave, tearing through the landscape and leaving destruction in its wake.

The skies above the snow-covered land erupted in a symphony of dragons and phoenixes, their celestial forms dancing through the parted clouds. A shower of pure, radiant Qi rained down upon the castle.

"He's here…" whispered the doctor as the first cry of the newborn filled the air. The woman, despite her exhaustion, began to laugh and cry at once, overwhelmed with joy.

A man burst into the room, his face streaked with tears as he rushed to his wife's side, kissing her and their newborn son with fervor.

On that day, as the heavens rejoiced and dragons filled the skies, an announcement rang out across the land:

"Caine Lerouge Velios, rightful heir of the Velios lineage, has been born!"

"Hail His Majesty!"