Path of the Extra-Chapter 236: Sorrow

Azriel felt like he had been thrown into a vast, endless ocean—one where he was sinking, unable to breathe.

An overwhelming sorrow crashed over him, pulling him under.

So much. So much sorrow. It was everywhere. It was everything.

He... felt sorrow.

He heard the God of Time's words, but his mind and body refused to accept them.

'My world is gone? Everything? My friends… the graves of Mom, Dad, and Lia? My home… it's all gone?'

For the longest time, Azriel had forced himself to keep thoughts of his old world buried.

He had already accepted the possibility that he might never return. That maybe… there was no reason to.

But for that world—the one he had lived and breathed in—to have perished? To know that everything he once knew was truly gone? That he was the last living person from his world?

No. It couldn't be.

He didn't want to experience this. Not again.

He could feel their eyes on him. Both the God of Time and the Son of Time were watching him.

It was then that Azriel realized—he had stopped breathing.

Then, without warning, his chest tightened, as if invisible ropes had wrapped around his ribs and were being pulled taut.

"Haa... haa..."

His breaths came in short, shallow gasps.

"Haa... haa..."

Not enough. It wasn't enough.

His heart pounded against his ribs in a frantic, erratic rhythm. Too fast. Too hard. His fingers trembled as he pressed them, covered in his gauntlet, against his collarbone—trying to ground himself, trying to find air that didn't seem to exist.

"Haa... haa..."

'I… I can't breathe...'

A sudden rush of heat crawled up his neck. His skin prickled, sweat beading on his forehead despite the cool air.

The ground beneath him wobbled, shifting like the deck of a sinking ship—then his knees buckled.

He collapsed onto the cold, broken ground.

"Haa... haa..."

"Azriel? You—what did you do to him?"

His vision blurred at the edges. Sounds warped—distant voices stretched and distorted. The world was too loud. Too sharp. Too much.

His throat closed up. He couldn't answer. He couldn't.

A hand rested lightly on his shoulder plate.

Xian Feng.

"Just breathe." His voice was calm. Steady.

It sounded so simple. Stupidly simple.

"Haa... haa..."

But he tried.

He sucked in a breath—shaky, uneven. Let it out. Did it again.

The burning in his chest eased. Just a fraction.

His hands still trembled. His skin still felt wrong. But the worst of it—the drowning—was beginning to recede.

The world came back to him slowly. The feeling of solid ground beneath him. The steady rhythm of his own breathing.

His heart was still racing.

But he wasn't falling anymore.

Not drowning.

Just breathing.

Eventually, Azriel turned his gaze, unaware of what expression he was making. His eyes landed on Xian Feng, who was kneeling beside him, his face unreadable—blank.

"You were having a panic attack, it seems. But... it doesn't appear to have been a natural one."

His gaze shifted toward the God of Time, who remained seated on his throne, his expression unchanged, looking down at them with the same detached serenity.

Azriel gritted his teeth, but before he could speak, Xian Feng continued.

"Don't. It's not worth it. He's been manipulating our emotions without us even realizing it. My own outburst just now—that was his doing."

Strangely enough, those words calmed Azriel more than they should have.

"All I did was save time by accelerating your emotional states. At this rate, it would take eons..."

Xian Feng suddenly sneered.

"Sitting there, acting all mighty and benevolent... all your divine grace will only fade in time. Does that sound familiar?"

"It does," the God of Time mused.

"But time is running out to hide in this realm."

He raised his hand, and without warning, the shattered table pieces lifted from the ground, reassembling themselves as if time had rewound, restoring everything to its previous state.

"Children, be seated again."

Xian Feng exhaled sharply before standing, helping Azriel to his feet before walking toward his chair. With a flick of his robes, he sat down.

Azriel followed, though his body still trembled slightly. His gaze locked onto the God of Time as he spoke.

"Is it true...? My world is truly gone?"

"It is."

"How...?"

The God of Time was silent for a moment. Then, his voice softened—distant, almost regretful.

"I wish I could ease your burden, child. But there is knowledge I cannot reveal to you. At least… not yet. Now is not the right time."

Azriel clenched his jaw shut.

'It's always like this, isn't it?'

One answer. A thousand new questions.

He exhaled slowly, his fingers curling into fists.

"What do you want?" His voice was quieter now, but laced with something cold. "You deliberately said those words. You provoked us—manipulated us—brought us to this point. Why? For what purpose?"

The God of Time regarded him with something unreadable before answering.

"Why else?" His tone remained level, unaffected. "As my son said, we have never given you guidance. Never offered you help, or even a clue. And yet, despite that, the two of you were expected to rise to great heights. And so, you fought—fought simply to survive."

"...."

"So let me, for the first and final time, offer you both guidance, help, and a clue."

The God of Time stood up, his movements slow yet deliberate. He walked toward Xian Feng, stopping right in front of him.

Xian Feng narrowed his eyes but rose to his feet, meeting the god's gaze with a stubborn defiance.

"Even now, in this very moment, you fight to keep your mana core from shattering—trapped in an unending cycle of torment. In your struggle, you have cast yourself into hell, bound to its cruel embrace. Again and again, you regress to that fateful moment—the instant you chose to step beyond salvation. There was never a path back, no mercy in the hands of fate. And so, you remain, waiting through an eternity of suffering, hoping, praying, that one day, your broken core will be made whole once more."

Xian Feng's eyes remained cold as he responded, his voice quiet yet sharp.

"So you were never blind to my suffering. You saw everything… yet chose to act the distant father?"

The God of Time showed no reaction. His expression did not shift, not even by a fraction.

Then, without warning, he raised his hand, fist clenched, and lightly tapped it against Xian Feng's chest.

Azriel and Xian Feng both tensed, their expressions wary yet undeniably curious.

Excited, even.

Only… nothing happened.

"Done."

The God of Time lowered his hand.

"The moment you leave this realm, your soul will remember a path—a way to escape that hell and restore what was lost. Your mana core will be whole again. And as my son, marked by my blessing, I see no need to offer more than I already have. This conversation, in my eyes, is but a single moment in eternity.

But heed this—when your chains are broken, when the weight of your prison is cast aside, do not waste a thought on something as insignificant as survival.

The Son of Time and the Son of Death. The Divine Knight of Time and the Divine Knight of Death.

To mere mortals, your existence is a terror beyond comprehension. If they were to know of you, they would whisper your names in fear, pray in vain for deliverance.

You are no longer just human.

Start thinking as the guardians of your people—unless you wish for this world to suffer the same fate as all pitiful worlds before it."

Xian Feng parted his lips, but no words came. He stood there, silent.

A once-in-a-lifetime moment.

Then, Azriel blinked—

—and the God of Time was suddenly beside him.

Azriel jerked back, nearly stumbling from his seat.

'I… I swear I won't blink anymore.'

The god ignored his reaction. His gaze was heavier now, colder.

"As for you, child… there is no knowledge I can pass to your soul. I fear you already possess enough that, if I were to reveal more, I would break rules… even I dare not defy."

"…so there are rules that even strike fear in a god like you…"

The God of Time narrowed his eyes at Azriel, making his heart skip a beat.

"There is always something to fear, no matter who or what you are. Fear is what every soul possesses. But neither of you truly comprehends the potential your souls hold—limited and deceived by the thoughts of those beneath you. When in truth, it is they who should seek wisdom from you."

Azriel slowly stood up, his lips pressed together in thought as he met the god's gaze.

"Then what is it that you can offer me? If not knowledge from a god who can see the past, present, and future?"

"Knowledge, no. But answers… yes. For example—why did the system gifted to you by your future self vanish? It was because the world's providence does not allow two seekers of memories. The moment it realized your existence, you yourself erased that [Skill]."

Azriel's eyes widened.

'He knows about my future self as well… he really is playing with us.'

He was sure of it. Yet, there was nothing he could do.

The God of Time's knowledge was something Azriel feared—because he couldn't tell what was truth and what was a lie.

Azriel had to be careful with what he said and did. His emotions were shifting in an inexplicable way—he felt calm, too calm, in front of this god. Everything was going too smoothly. Likely, the god was the cause of his current unnaturally calm state.

"Who exactly is this world's providence?"

'He is the God of Time, but he could also be considered the God of Wisdom. In other words, if anyone knows more about the world's providence, it would be him.'

And yet, the God of Time slowly shook his head.

"That is not knowledge I can grant you, child. Such things must be acquired by your own efforts. Mmm… what I can grant is an answer to another question that lingers in your mind—why that harlot removed [Void Mind]."

The god paused, his golden eyes locked onto Azriel's.

"It is because she hasn't. [Void Mind] is not gone."

"What?"

'Wait—my mind? Is he reading my mind?'

Azriel's expression hardened instantly.

If the god was reading his mind… no, impossible.

'Ah… right.'

It wasn't mind-reading. The God of Time must have known of his frustration.

For some reason, he had the ability to discern and manipulate emotions.

But then how did he know the answers he sought?

"[Void Mind] is still a part of you," the god continued. "It was simply isolated from you. Those two years of experience… they were [Void Mind]. The only difference is that the version you once had was more refined, more enhanced. But it is certainly not lost."

'Not lost…'

So [Void Mind] was still with him?

If so… Azriel had yet to realize it.

But it was no longer a skill. It wasn't something he could activate like before. Sure, he had forced himself into an emotionless state countless times as Subject 666, but it wasn't the same. The old [Void Mind] had amplified that state, refined it.

'Maybe… if I relearn to be in that state… then—'

"Now," the God of Time interrupted his thoughts. "I will allow you to ask me one piece of truth—if I can provide it, that is."

Azriel's gaze flickered to Xian Feng, who was watching silently.

He hesitated. Not because he didn't know what to ask—but because he wasn't sure if he should ask.

It was the question that had plagued him ever since his memories as Subject 666 returned.

And now, more than ever, knowing what he did about his previous world…

Azriel exhaled quietly and finally spoke.

"Do you know anything about the meaning of 'Ynoth'?"

Xian Feng remained still, listening intently.

But the God of Time…

For a single fraction of a second, his eyes grew colder than ever before.

And Azriel saw it.

'He knows.'

"I do not recall anything of such a word. Why? Where did you hear this?"

'He's lying.'

Azriel's heartbeat quickened, his throat running dry.

"Was it from your old world?"

'No, you know exactly where it's from.'

Azriel wanted to shout, to call him out—but he didn't.

Instead, he took a quiet breath and shook his head.

"No. It is simply a word that, for some reason, has been in my head ever since I transmigrated to this world."

The God of Time looked at him silently for a long moment.

And for the first time, Azriel felt as though the god was staring into his soul.

No.

He was staring into his soul.

The soul…

Azriel's thoughts raced. He needed to start researching the soul.

The God of Time seemed to care deeply about anything related to souls.

And the runes on the Mark of Death… they had said:

The soul always remembers.

The same was true for Xian Feng.

"...."

But Ynoth… why was the God of Time so unwilling to speak of it?

The Goddess of Death hadn't hesitated to utter the word.

Yet, when he heard it, he looked at Azriel as if he had committed the gravest of sins.

That could only mean several things.

The God of Time and the Goddess of Death were not entirely on the same side.

Neither of them knew everything.

And neither of them shared the same knowledge.

"Now that you have asked, allow me to guide you."

Normally, he would have been disappointed. He had wasted such a valuable opportunity and gained nothing from it.

But Azriel wasn't.

He had gained something—something important.

One undeniable fact was that the God of Time was neither his ally, nor his friend.

The Goddess of Death might have known him. She might have even been on good terms with him. But Azriel was not, and he had no intention of ever being so. Besides, she was missing.

And one fact remained: the God of Time has been trying to manipulate both Xian Feng and Azriel.

Azriel feared that every word spoken, every step taken, every twist of fate—could have all been part of his plan.

He was the God of Time, after all. There was no way they weren't playing right into his hands.

But what could Azriel do?

Nothing.

He was simply too weak.

Azriel clenched his gauntleted hands tightly at the thought.

A pawn—used endlessly in a game he never agreed to play.

"If I have seen correctly… you have been playing the child blessed by light. Or perhaps… light was blessed with the child. I do not know if it is one, the other, or both, but you have been trying to manipulate her, haven't you?"

"...!"

Azriel's eyes widened.

The God of Time, seeing his reaction, simply nodded. He turned, his fingers grazing the table, until he reached his throne and sat back down.

His withered wings curled slightly as he shifted, staring at Azriel.

"If my eyes have not deceived me, then you defeated that thing—the Black Antlered King. You stole the [skill] it would have granted. After that, if she had not yet defeated the Bonewraith, you would have done it yourself. But if she had—and had not consumed the mana core—you would have stolen it. If she had consumed the mana core, you would have still followed the script in your mind."

"It is splendid, really. As we speak, she is battling the Bonewraith. By the time she defeats it, she will begin to realize some things. Your unusual cooperation in joining her faction. The way you listened to her. The kindness you showed. How you backed her up. And then—suddenly—you wanted to be left alone on Floor -1.

With that small grain of doubt, you will play the role of the villain. And with nothing but words, you will shatter her trust in people once again, making her fall deeper into despair."

Azriel was at a loss for words.

The way the God of Time spoke—it was as if he were reading from a script.

Perhaps he was.

Azriel couldn't tell.

His voice was quiet when he finally spoke.

"She is too kind. She and the others think they can handle everything. But they can't.

Only tragedy will follow… just like right now. In the containment facility. Unaware of the psychopath responsible for the Bonewraith.

Edge.

Or someone else manipulating Edge.

If I have to play the villain in her eyes—betray her trust—but she becomes stronger because of it… then it will be worth it."

"It would be. And it will be—if you follow through, of course.

It is a good plan, but one you have not put enough effort into. You should change that from now on. Do not rely solely on luck as your hidden card for victory, child."

"I don't have a choice," Azriel muttered.

"I need to trust that my luck is enough to bring me to the outcome I desire. The best way to convince others… is to put myself in their position. That way, they won't suspect a thing until the very end—when my luck finally comes into play"

People like Sir Henrik, Freya, and others could easily grow suspicious. The smallest mistake, the slightest inconsistency—they would notice.

And once doubt crept in, the entire plan would collapse.

He had to expect failure at every turn.

"If that is how you think, then very well. You are still young. Your mind will change many times with experience.

But the role of a villain… that, I find intriguing.

You wish for an outcome where those you care for live. I can grant you a way to increase those odds. Not by much, but still better than nothing."

'What?'

Azriel leaned forward, his hands on the table.

"I thought you refused to grant knowledge of the future since it could be dangerous?"

Xian Feng, who had been silent all this time, finally spoke, eyeing the God of Time with suspicion.

The God of Time's lips curled into a chilling smile.

"I never said I would grant knowledge.

But I can grant opportunity."

"I'll take it," Azriel answered immediately.

This was a trap.

A way to manipulate him.

This 𝓬ontent is taken from freeweɓnovel.cѳm.

It had to be.

But if it wasn't…?

Then he would still take it.

"If a book were written, it would need a villain. And of course… we have plenty of those already."

As he said that, both Azriel and the God of Time instinctively turned toward Xian Feng.

The man, leaning back in his seat, arms crossed, eyes closed, remained unbothered. Only his lips twitched.

"I take pride in my work," Xian Feng murmured. "I won't run away from my responsibilities."

Azriel almost found it amusing.

But he forced himself to remain focused.

If the God of Time could read minds, he didn't want to reveal too much.

"Your act of convincing her you are a villain is a good idea. But your scope is too small. Your methods, too shallow.

Your approach—crude.

It would have worked if I placed trust in your acting skills.

But I said I would help you. So… yes, a [skill] would suffice."

Azriel sat back, eyes narrowing. He listened carefully, trying to detect any deceit.

"Yes. A [skill] granted by me.

Ah… that would be amusing. A pity I won't be able to watch it unfold, but it will suffice."

The God of Time smiled wider.

Azriel felt uneasy.

"As a final act of generosity, I will give you ten minutes.

Once you leave this realm and wake up, that child's mind will be affected by me. I will manipulate her emotions.

For ten minutes, whatever you say to her will have an intense effect.

You want her to become your lover? Your slave? Your rival? Your partner? Your enemy?

Choose the right words, and it will be done... But I trust that you are a smart and capable human who knows the role they have to play."

He leaned back with a satisfied smile as both Xian Feng and Azriel stared in shock.

There was something off.

Something disturbing.

The God of Time… didn't like Celestina.

"…Do you have a reason for hating Celestina Frost?"

Xian Feng was the one to ask.

The God of Time merely shrugged.

"No.

Not yet, at least.

Or… not in this timeline."

Their eyes narrowed.

A threat.

Celestina Frost posed a threat to this god.

But before they could dwell further, the God of Time sighed.

"Perfect timing.

It seems someone has noticed this realm suddenly vanishing.

Alas, I cannot keep it hidden much longer."

'He had been hiding an entire realm from the other gods?'

…How ridiculous.

The God of Time waved his hand.

His voice was the last thing they heard.

"Do not make me regret my choices today.

Just this once."

*****

They were gone, leaving only the God of Time seated upon his throne.

For a long moment, he remained still. Then, his gaze lifted toward the ceiling, obscured by the mysterious fog.

"Were it within my grasp, I would bind you both to an eternity of suffering—an endless cycle of death without reprieve. But even torment is fleeting, for nothing remains unchanged forever."

A shuddering breath escaped his lips, weary and strained.

"You are not cursed by fate, but marked by it. For every sorrow you endure, fortune shall find you in equal measure. A blessing entwined with a curse—one cannot exist without the other."

As for why the two of them had been marked by fate… even he, the God of Time, did not know.

Just as he did not recognize the word Ynoth.

And yet… his soul did.

There could be only one explanation—his memories had been taken from him.

...which was utterly sorrowful.