Chapter 497: A Will

Ambrose's feelings about fate had always been complicated.

Back when he'd first become a diviner, he'd wanted nothing more than to kneel before the Goddess of Fate and kiss her toes. Foreseeing the future felt incredible, and bending probability itself was so powerful it practically counted as divine power.

But every single time Ambrose was on the verge of getting carried away with himself, the Goddess of Fate would headbutt him right back down to earth.

Even now, Ambrose still remembered the first time he'd misread a prophecy. It had gotten the noblewoman under his protection beheaded. In her final moments, she'd looked at him with innocent eyes, as if silently asking why things hadn't gone the way he'd promised.

Trusted by someone, and ultimately failing them...

That feeling had left Ambrose in a slump for a long stretch of time, and it changed the way he thought about fate from then on.

In the years that followed, Ambrose kept wavering. Every time he wielded the power of fate, it felt like smearing another layer of paint onto a canvas—starting from blank white and adding vibrant color, until eventually there was so much paint layered on top of itself that all that remained was one filthy smear of black.

There was no helping it. When he poured everything into intelligence, chasing the path toward becoming a legendary mage, his memory and comprehension only kept sharpening. Part of why Ambrose had been so decisive about turning himself into a lich was a shortage of money—but part of it, too, were those unbearably heavy memories.

It wasn't until he cast off most of his emotions, cast off everything tied to fate, that he finally began to feel light again.

That was why, even with all the gods Ambrose knew personally, it had never once occurred to him to beg any of them to restore his human body. And even though the linked dreamscape could simulate every human sensation imaginable, he'd never once let himself get lost in it.

The reason was simple: being human was too exhausting. He'd finally clawed his way out. Why would he ever jump back in?

With an appetite for food, for lust, for greed, for recognition, and every other human craving, what he needed wouldn't just be material comfort. He would need others' approval, emotional resonance, and all sorts of emotional validation and self-fulfillment besides. And his troubles would become everything he wasn't able to obtain.

On the other hand, as a lich, his singular obsession was gold. His singular trouble was poverty.

It sounded like running away from life. Honestly, it was. It might be shameful, but it worked.

Becoming a lich had given Ambrose the easiest stretch of his entire existence. As long as there was gold to be made, nothing else weighed on him.

But fate still clung to him like a shadow, as if it simply couldn't stand to see him at peace.

The diviner Alderien had mentioned was soon delivered to Ambrose's doorstep. She was a young woman with an utterly ordinary appearance, the kind of face you'd never pick out of a crowd.

The moment Ambrose laid eyes on her, something suddenly came back to him. Before she could even introduce herself, he asked, "Does the name Selwyn mean anything to you?"

The young woman blinked, startled, then recited solemnly, "Fate unrevealed hides in shadow; in shadow, I evade the death that is decreed. Greetings, Master Megaman. Selwyn was my teacher. I've inherited that name now."

Ambrose found himself recalling a disheveled old man, filthy as a beggar, a rival he'd crossed paths with in the wilderness many years ago.

He still remembered how entertaining their wager had been back then. It was a simple coin flip.

Ambrose had bet the coin would land on its edge. The old man had bet it wouldn't.

In the end, the coin flew into the air and got snatched away by a crow before it ever came down.

The most interesting part of that whole wager was that Ambrose had already cast his dice of fate. He'd already seen a future where the coin landed standing on its edge. This old man, Selwyn, hadn't been able to change the future Ambrose had locked in. Instead, his method had been to conceal that future entirely.

If no one could ever see the coin standing on its edge, then no one could ever confirm whether that fate had actually come to pass.

At the time, Ambrose had thought the old man was simply being a sore loser through sheer trickery. It was only later that he understood that this man was more formidable than he was.

A revealed fate could not be changed. The old man's focus was to prevent that revelation from ever happening at all—to delay fate's arrival indefinitely.

For a diviner who made his living dealing with the Goddess of Fate, a trick like that was practically blasphemy.

Perhaps fate could be interpreted in countless different ways. Every diviner walked a different path, and the Goddess of Fate, it seemed, was more tolerant than anyone imagined.

The unremarkable young woman standing before him now was just like that old man had been all those years ago. Though she stood right before him, she somehow stood in the middle of nothing at all. If Harvey had been present, he would have noticed that the threads of fate tangled around this girl were far, far fewer than an ordinary person's, as if she were connected to the world by only the thinnest of margins.

Ambrose said, with a touch of wistfulness, "Since you say you've inherited Selwyn's name, I take it my old friend has passed on."

The young woman said calmly, "Master Megaman, according to my teacher, the two of you only ever met the once—and you robbed him of every coin he had."

Ambrose, utterly without shame, replied, "Your teacher lost the bet and refused to admit it. Cheaters have to pay a price."

Back then, once the crow made off with the coin, Ambrose had simply beaten the old man senseless and taken his coin purse. Fate had handed him a pair of fists, he wouldn't just let them go to waste!

The young woman seemed to know exactly what kind of man Ambrose was, and showed not the slightest reverence for him. Calm as ever, she simply held out a scroll.

"My master asked me to deliver this to you. My task is now complete."

Ambrose accepted the scroll but didn't open it. Instead, he asked her, "How long have you been looking for me?"

"Thirty-seven years."

"Your master sent you to deliver this thirty-seven years ago? You're awfully slow."

Ambrose genuinely wondered whether she had ever once used a teleportation array in her life. Otherwise, how on earth could it take thirty-seven years to deliver a single scroll?

"Most of that time went into confirming your identity, Master Megaman. Do you even know how many aliases you've used?"

"A diviner who can't even pick up my trail... Sounds like you didn't absorb much of Selwyn's skill at all."

The young woman who had inherited Selwyn's name didn't take offense. Instead, she said to Ambrose, "That's actually the second reason I came looking for you. Master Megaman, I'd like to become your student."

Ambrose said, puzzled, "My path and your master's are nothing alike."

The young woman looked resigned. "I'm not suited to Selwyn's name, either, or to the path my master chose. But even to his dying day, I was the only student he'd ever found capable of setting foot on that path at all."

Ambrose understood the feeling completely. He'd lived for centuries himself and had only ever picked up one student, Harvey. And even that kid wasn't particularly useful. His own senior, Mr. Misfortune, had it even worse—he'd never once found an heir in his entire life, and now he even had to fight Ambrose over Harvey.

Being a diviner really did depend almost entirely on raw talent. Effort barely mattered at all.

Ambrose neither agreed nor refused. He simply weighed the scroll in his hand and said, "I'm afraid I might not get the chance to be your master after all. Whatever's recorded in this scroll is probably my own miserable future."

Good news would never arrive this way. Fate's gifts usually landed right in front of him, plain for all to see. Only the price tag hidden inside stayed concealed. Something that had taken thirty-seven years, winding its way through who-knew-how-many detours, to finally reach him—there was no need to guess what it represented. It had to be the cost of all of Ambrose's recent good fortune.

It seemed his luck was about due to run out.

The young woman who had inherited Selwyn's name shook her head. "I don't know what's inside. My master said only you have the right to look. But where we diviners are concerned, if you have a bad premonition, it's likely to come true."

Ambrose patted the young woman's shoulder. "Good. Sounds like you've already made your peace with it."

Having said that, Ambrose hesitated no more. He reached out and unrolled the scroll in his hand.

Fate could not be resisted. If even this young woman standing before him had already made her peace with that truth, Ambrose could hardly afford to fall short of her.

He'd assumed what waited inside would be the prophecy Selwyn had left him—perhaps even a vivid vision, perhaps his own death recorded in detail.

Ambrose thought he'd braced himself for it. But what he found in the end was a letter.

A will that Selwyn had left him, thirty-seven years ago.

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