Path of the Extra Chapter 417: The Collar of Fate

Jasmine’s stomach churned as if she had ingested something putrid, her complexion rapidly paling. A sharp, acrid wave of nausea surged into her throat, and overcome by dizziness, she steadied herself against a pillar, though her knees threatened to buckle.

"So, what you're saying is... you were destined to assassinate Azriel?"

Pollux remained facing the garden, his gaze distant and tinged with melancholy. A soft sound of affirmation escaped him.

"How... how is that even possible...?"

Jasmine regarded him, utterly bewildered. The more Pollux elaborated, the more absurd it seemed. Then, she observed him lift a hand, his fingers lightly caressing the side of his neck.

"My destiny has always been to end his life."

An intense radiance suddenly enveloped his throat.

Jasmine's eyes narrowed instantly. The light was so overpowering it was painful to behold, so blinding that every primal instinct screamed at her to avert her gaze, to shut her eyes and shield herself. Yet, a deep-seated intuition urged her to persevere.

So, she resisted.

Despite her body's protests, she continued to stare. Her eyes seared, and tears streamed down her face from the sheer strain. Slowly, agonizingly, the form concealed within the brilliance began to materialize.

It was a collar.

An impossibly bright, white collar encircled Pollux’s neck.

"Lady Fate can be exceedingly cruel..."

Finally, he turned his gaze upon her. Through the blinding luminescence, Jasmine could barely discern a slight upward curve of his lips—a hint of mockery, perhaps, though the intensity of the light obscured most of his features.

"Some might contend," he murmured, "that I am a thrall to destiny."

"A thrall... to destiny...?"

With a mere flick of his wrist, the collar dissolved. The light vanished as if it had never been, and Pollux emitted an amused chuckle.

"What else could I be named? Lady Fate has ensnared me as her servant, ordained to execute her retribution upon him, stripped of volition, voice, and choice. Is that not the very essence of servitude?"

Jasmine was left without a reply.

She remained frozen, gazing at him, until he abruptly began to walk, venturing deeper into the lush expanse of the garden.

After a moment's hesitation, she followed.

With each stride, the air grew richer with an intoxicating fragrance. It permeated her senses like a potent narcotic, sweet and overwhelming, inducing a sensation of ethereal lightness, as if she were adrift on clouds. She fought the impulse to collapse onto the ground, to surrender to the sheer beauty of the surroundings.

They proceeded in silence, Jasmine a few steps behind, her gaze fixed on his retreating figure. At length, summoning her resolve, she spoke.

"...You mentioned Fate seeks vengeance on Azriel. What is the reason? And how does that function? Is fate not merely an abstract concept?" Her voice trembled with bewilderment. "An abstract notion desires to eliminate my brother?"

Still maintaining his steady pace, Pollux offered a soft hum and a nod.

"She is not merely an abstraction. Or rather, she embodies both and neither. Entities such as she are often elusive to definition." He paused briefly.

"However, she is a sentient being, akin to ourselves. You may refer to her as . She can indeed be quite... retaliatory when disrespected."

"L-Lady Fate...?" Jasmine tilted her head, unsure how to process even the name. "Then... what is she? Another deity?"

"Undoubtedly," Pollux responded without hesitation.

"She ranks among the most formidable existences across all planes, having achieved the Path of Fate. Possibly surpassing even the deities of the god race, she possesses every right to extinguish your brother."

Jasmine’s brow furrowed, a surge of indignation rising within her. She suppressed it, forcing her tone to remain composed.

"And why would she harbor such a desire?" she inquired. "Do not assert that merely because your destiny involves confronting Azriel, his destiny necessitates his demise. Is he also subservient to fate? Wait..." Her eyes narrowed in thought. "Would that not classify both of you as emanations of Fate?"

An emanation bore the divine mark of their patron.

But was a mark invariably a physical inscription? Could it manifest in alternative forms? Could divine imprints exist beyond the purview of the Ten Ancient Gods? Suddenly, a cascade of questions ignited within Jasmine.

What were the fundamental distinctions between the Divine Hierarchy and the Profane Descent? What about their layers, their organizational structures? Did each echelon possess its own unique strengths and vulnerabilities? Were all lineages governed by an identical framework? Humanity occupied a position within the First Divine Order, and up to the Sovereign stage, it appeared all individuals unlocked comparable boons through progression and transcendence.

There remained a vast expanse of the unknown.

Then, she heard Pollux let out a soft, captivating chuckle, seemingly incongruous with their somber discussion.

"No. Neither of us are emanations of Fate. Nor is his predetermined end to perish." He sounded decidedly amused now.

"In truth, he possesses no destiny whatsoever... other than, it seems, to provoke the ire of everyone in existence."

He shook his head, letting out another laugh.

"Perhaps 'pawn' would be a more fitting term than 'slave'."

Jasmine gazed at his retreating form, a sense of bewilderment washing over her as he continued, clearly amused by her confusion.

"It appears that ages ago—even predating the fabled Ancient Holy War—your brother was responsible for the demise of Lady Fate."

"...!"

"And it's only recently that she has managed to resurrect herself."

A faint smile graced his lips.

"And she... is exceptionally, exceedingly angry."

Jasmine ceased her steps, becoming still as a statue, her eyes locked on Pollux in utter astonishment.

Pollux also stopped, turning to face her, his gaze filled with curiosity, a smile playing on his lips.

Then, after a moment, Jasmine began to laugh.

Her laughter erupted as if she had just encountered the most ludicrous jest imaginable in millennia. She covered her mouth with a hand, yet her laughter retained an ethereal grace, weaving through the garden like a captivating melody, as if such a sound naturally belonged amidst such beauty.

"So, you expect me to accept the notion that my brother is some primordial, fearsome entity, one that strikes terror into the hearts of gods, sealed away all the races, and also slew Fate—no, allow me to correct myself—who subsequently managed to bring herself back from the clutches of death." Her lips twisted, devoid of any genuine warmth. "And that you are Lady Fate’s thrall, brought into existence solely to assassinate Azriel as part of her vengeance, all while collaborating with the god-race, those very beings who are also the sworn enemies of your people and the cause of your kind's annihilation." She tilted her head slightly. "And all of this... merely for the purpose of eliminating my younger brother?"

Her smile morphed, sharpening into something far more chilling and severe.

"You do grasp the profound absurdity of that narrative, do you not?"

Her eyes darkened with a newfound intensity.

"And as you've been proclaiming all of this, I've also observed something else. Your words suggest you never truly grasp anything with absolute certainty. It all seems to hinge on hearsay. Tell me... Who was it again? The True Stars? They were the ones who imparted this information to you, correct?"

Pollux showed no sign of offense. He simply offered a shrug.

"That is simply the way of things. My knowledge of your brother is limited to what has been conveyed to me by those who desire his demise." His demeanor remained unruffled. "The True Stars are the deity of the Starbloods."

Abruptly, Jasmine felt a familiar, piercing ache blossom behind her eyes. She let out a low groan, pressing her eyelids shut.

"My apologies," Pollux's voice reached her, soft, almost empathetic. "It seems these revelations are proving somewhat taxing for your mind. Kindly bear with it a little longer."

Then, Jasmine's eyes fluttered open once more.

She remained within the garden's embrace. Still positioned where she had been standing.

Yet, a subtle alteration had occurred.

"Brother!"

The sudden exclamation echoed from behind her, carried by a voice she didn't recognize. Jasmine startled, whirling around instantly, her body tensing with ingrained alarm.

And the sight that greeted her only intensified her confusion.

It was... Pollux.

The identical silver hair. The same facial structure. The very same attire as the Pollux standing beside her.

He was running, visibly strained, with strands of silver hair plastered to his face by sweat, rushing towards... another Pollux.

This second Pollux stood serenely amidst the blossoms, his back ramrod straight, hands clasped behind him, exuding an aura of poised regality. His face was utterly devoid of any discernible emotion.

"Brother! The Holy Guardian has fallen! They are on the verge of breaching the veil! We must make our escape before we face complete annihilation!"

Jasmine's gaze widened as she looked from one figure to the other, completely incapable of comprehending the tableau before her.

They were both Pollux.

Or, at the very least, both bore an uncanny resemblance to Pollux. They were so strikingly alike that differentiating between them was a challenge, save for the desperate expression on one's face—an expression Jasmine could never have imagined on Pollux—while the other maintained the exact demeanor she had come to expect—calm, cool, and impossibly detached.

Then, the Pollux standing beside her finally spoke.

"What you are witnessing is myself... and my twin brother, Castor."