Killed Me? Now I Have Your Power Chapter 461: Lesson to Learn

"I know the past, you know the future." Sitting calmly with his back pressed against the tree bark, Anthropologist remarked. "Aren’t we the perfect duo, Seer?"

"You think so?" Vaela replied in a silky voice, lounging on the blood chair crafted by Kaden, her gaze lifted toward the scarlet sun above. "That’s adorable, but I’d rather pair up as the top duo with Kaden."

"A response I fully anticipated." He shook his head.

A soft chuckle escaped Vaela as her eyes gleamed with the sun’s red hue. "Though I must concede, it holds truth. Still, don’t you hold the edge over me?"

"Oh?" Anthropologist asked, his brown brows rising high.

Vaela pressed on effortlessly. "You grasp the past, Anthropologist. At minimum, you’re aware of countless prior events. And you uncovered them all on your own, without relying on any special ability."

She halted briefly, casting him a quick yet sharp look. "That’s remarkable."

"Don’t make me blush, Seer."

"You’re a rock, Anthropologist."

"A fair observation in an ordinary realm. Do you recall where we reside?"

"Starting another history lecture?" Vaela groaned gently. "No, spare me. Instead, could you assist me? I’ve puzzled over handling the Wolves Kingdom since our last encounter. Guide me, Anthropologist. Draw from past knowledge to illuminate the path ahead."

She fully turned her head his way. "You’re capable of that, right? Your vast insight lets you conceive ideas others wouldn’t dream of."

"There you err, Seer." He shook his head resolutely. "Allow me to share an irony of History, esteemed captain."

Lifting a finger, he offered Vaela a subtle smile.

"At its heart, History chronicles unparalleled occurrences — events that reshaped the entire world profoundly. What lesson would you draw from it, if you decided?"

"Life’s full of surprises?" she ventured.

Anthropologist clapped sharply, the noise echoing like cracking stone. "Precisely! Life defies prediction! That’s History’s core teaching. Yet folks wield it to forecast what’s coming, presuming repetition from prior instances."

He sneered.

"They invariably falter. Past triggers don’t always apply today. Thus, I stay within my limits, Seer."

With a wide gesture, he declared, "You shape the future. Forge it, and we’ll tread it. Meanwhile, I’ll chronicle our History as it unfolds. That’s my role now."

"To document the History of the Crimson Veil?"

"Oh? That’s merely a portion."

Anthropologist burst into laughter. "My true aim is to etch the history and journey of our revered Master, Kaden Warborn. The Crimson Veil, as his extension, merits a chapter or two within."

"And me?" Vaela grinned.

"As the Crimson Seer serving the Owner of the Crimson Star, how could I deny you three full chapters?"

"Make it more."

Anthropologist’s lips twitched. "Three suffices, Seer. We must preserve—!"

"Make it more."

"Can we discuss—!"

"Make it more."

"Harvester’s bloody eyes, alright!" Anthropologist swore, yielding, fully aware defeat was inevitable.

He sighed, leaning back into the tree, gazing at the blood-red sun overhead. His lips parted again, a spark igniting within.

"I wonder what the Master pursues at this moment."

"Accomplishing feats deserving of memory." Vaela stated with serene assurance. "Feats beyond all precedent."

"Indeed, only those merit recording," Anthropologist flashed his teeth. "Unprecedented events occur constantly, as we historians recognize. Yet some surpass all bounds."

"Those are what make gods quiver in their sacred halls."

"My Kaden excels at that." Vaela murmured. "Thus, we must master it too. Didn’t you declare it? We embody Kaden’s Will. We cherish his joys, despise his foes, mimic his deeds. Without fail."

"And your current desire, Seer?" Anthropologist probed, his grin broadening.

Vaela mirrored his look perfectly. "What else? I crave the sealed, shattered, wretched Soul Ascendant in my grasp. Summon Abomination and Ruined. We depart."

Anthropologist unleashed a booming laugh.

"You know, Seer, mortals and gods alike cling to one common falsehood."

"Share it, Anthropologist."

"Naturally. It’s straightforward: History always repeats."

Their sly, wicked gazes met.

"A utter falsehood, Seer. History never repeats. But who does?"

He paused for no reply.

"Humans always do." Pointing at them both, he added, "And now, comrade, we’re reviving an ancient pattern."

"Where does that pattern guide us?"

"To Ascendancy or Ruin. How does that stir you?"

Vaela cackled wildly.

"Like nothing before."

Anthropologist stood gradually. "Oh, I grasp that feeling. Now, let’s commence."

He cracked his neck.

...

"Will you enter the Divine Games, Chosen One?" Forbidden’s voice resounded. Kaden stood before the fainted Rea, his scarlet eyes fixed on Nameless’s monstrous visage.

’Divine Games? Ah... so that’s the crux?’ His mind raced, pieces falling into alignment.

"You’re familiar with the Divine Games, aren’t you? Naturally. It’s a contest engulfing the entire World, whether participants realize it or not."

Nameless laughed bitterly, devoid of mirth. "Either as ruthless fodder or true contender. Which are you? You already sense it, right?"

’I do.’

Kaden pondered silently, drawing a steadying breath to maintain composure, to avoid self-destruction.

Still, his thoughts raced through every divine or godly clash he’d faced.

Nocthar struck first. Then The Slave, plus whispers of The Hero observing via the Will.

Next arrived Thirty-Three, coveting his Emptiness and dubbing him a shapeshifter.

’Shapeshifter...?’

His reflection halted momentarily, then surged forward.

That fiend was followed by Kol’Riku, aiming to curse him over Sora, then The Witch, whose lair’s position he now possessed.

Culminating with the Woeful, fixated on his own betrothed, yearning solely to consume her.

Yet one entity loomed omnipresent: the fallen God of Death.

’And here I stand, handed the Echo of Warren itself — a mystery I scarcely comprehend — by the God of Death. ’

A wheel spun, the cycle nearing closure.

Encircled from all angles, Kaden sensed entrapment, like a solitary, fractured figure in an arena under corrupt skies brimming with gazes — treating him as a tool to exploit, twist, slay; a sharpening stone for schemes, a container for maledictions.

Yes. To deities, Kaden was mere merchandise. But exceptional wares, primed to elevate them in the Divine Games.

Awareness dawned on Kaden. No, it had always simmered. Clues abounded.

Yet even his boldness couldn’t defy the divine without courting oblivion.

Every limit snaps eventually.

Like water erupting under fierce flames, the cornered soul erupts, fury surging through blood.

And it bursts in the rawest, most foreseeable manner.

Not this time.

One vital truth from shocks: the World itself can surprise.

A truth gods rarely grasp.

Thus, Kaden Warborn shouldered the task of teaching the World that day...

"You asked for it."

...to surprise anew.

A blinding flash ensued.

Nameless couldn’t react in time.

—End of Chapter 461—