Secret World: I Became a God Through Lies

Chapter 173 Black and White Prelude
"Fate placed me on the chessboard, but forgot that I could also hold the pieces and move on."

In the center of Haicheng, the night slowly poured into the broken walls and ruins like a tide.

The lost corridor winds its way through the tangle of seaweed and coral, like a fragment of a script forgotten by fate but never truly destroyed.

A faint blue phosphorescence rises from the cracks in the ruins. The light is as faint as a star, but it is enough to outline the contours of two figures, one in front and one behind, walking side by side in this quiet and dreamy underwater ruins.

"Master," Celian walked behind him with her arms folded.

The long nails tapped rhythmically against the elbows, and a faint light was reflected in the golden-red pupils, revealing a hint of irritability and boredom.

"When can I start hunting? This dead end alley is stuffy and smelly, there's not even a decent deep-sea fish."

Siming listened to her complaints and the corners of his mouth rose unconsciously.

He slowly turned around, his eyes hiding a hint of teasing, yet gentle: "You should be thankful that no one is here to interrupt your chance to be 'alone' with me."

"Hmph." Celia lightly shook her long silver hair, as if to shake off the lingering warmth of the teasing words in her ears. She hummed and turned away.
"I walk with you because you are my master, not because I like walking with you!"

Siming didn't say anything else, but turned around and continued walking. His footsteps were light, but they were particularly clear in the silence.

The next moment, the whispering spirit beside my ear trembled quietly, emitting a faint echo:

"Alison and Ian confirm the target has been eliminated. Rex is moving towards you. Currently, there is only one enemy left."

Siming responded in a low voice: "The last game of chess."

However, just as he uttered these words, a distant and hollow murmur suddenly sounded.

The voice had no emotion, but it was like some ancient being slowly awakening from a deep sleep, it seeped out from the depths of consciousness,

It also seemed to be emerging from a distant folded reality somewhere at the end of the corridor.

"Welcome, weaver of destiny."

"The holder of the Thousand-Faced Lord."

"Welcome to my domain: the Corridor of Nothingness."

boom--!
The ground beneath my feet suddenly shook, as if an ancient creature had opened its eyes deep in the sea.

Small but sharp cracks quickly climbed up the stone slabs, the high walls collapsed, and the broken pillars fell like paper.
What were once the remains of Haicheng are now, driven by some twisted force, pieced together into an endless chessboard.

Fog followed.

It is not a mist, nor a veil of illusion, but a presence with a viscous texture and a color as rich as ink.

It is as if the residue left after the "meaning" has been stripped away slowly seeps into the space.

Each wisp of mist carried some invisible question, lingering around their ears like a shadow.

who are you?
Why do you exist?
Have you ever had meaning?
Celian frowned slightly, blood energy quietly appearing in her palm, but she did not make a move.

The fog was so thick, so thick that even her murderous intent was suppressed for a moment.

And in the fog, they "saw" it.

Figures emerged from the mist, standing tall as monuments, neatly arranged, and standing on the chessboard.

They were clad in faceless armor and held weapons of various shapes in their hands, as if they were pieced together from memory fragments forged from nightmares.

Their bodies are of strange proportions, like randomly stretched memory molds—they are not entities, but more terrifying than entities.

They were silent, yet seemed ready to march and make a move at any moment.

White and black stand on the two sides of this silent chess game.

Each shadow seemed to symbolize the ultimate embodiment of a certain thought—faith and nothingness, rationality and blindness, choice and fate.

Sima Ming narrowed his eyes and slowly swept his gaze across the huge chessboard.

"...Irostia." He said softly, as if confirming a guess hidden in his heart.

At the end of the game, he finally entered the realm of "king".

——The King of Delusion is waiting for his gambler to appear.

The white grid under Siming's feet suddenly glowed, and a dark blue mark quietly emerged. It looked like a crown, but it was incomplete.
Ancient lines seemed to spread from the soles of his feet, slowly carving into the palms along his blood vessels.

It was a cold, heavy pain, as if it had nailed him firmly into this silent chess game, leaving no room for regret. He looked down, the totem like an iron seal, branded into his palm. A drop of blood oozed from the edge of the pattern, slowly seeping beneath the stone.

"Chess?" He murmured softly, his eyes slightly fixed.

"Exactly." The voice appeared again, but this time it lacked the previous arrogance.
His tone was low and soft, with a certain mockery that was almost pitying, "You are the White King, and she—"

The fog seemed to vibrate, and countless blurry eyes opened from the darkness, as if time had frozen and was casting a gaze at the chessboard at this moment.

"Your queen."

Standing behind him, Celian chuckled softly, the corners of her lips raised like a cold rose, her scarlet pupils shrank slightly, and a light like blood burned in them.

Her murderous intent, which she had never concealed, was now completely ignited by this "title".

"Heh... Master," she licked her fingertips gently, her fangs gleaming coldly in the mist, her voice low and dangerous, "Can I kill you now?"

Sima Ming sighed, as if he had expected her to respond in this way.

He raised his hand and slowly placed it on her shoulder. The mark of his palm turned into a halo the moment they touched, enveloping the two of them.

"Not 'now', but 'according to the rules'."

His tone was calm, with his unique playfulness and restraint, yet it also sounded like some kind of ritual announcement.

"Princess Celian, in the name of fate, I wish to make you the queen."

His eyes were firm, and the light in his palm was like the only torch in the darkness.

"Are you willing to be the only chess queen above my destiny?"

Celia seemed to have truly heard the call from the depths of fate. She slowly closed her eyes, and a ray of light quietly emerged between her eyebrows.

"I was born as a sharp blade just for you." She opened her eyes, her red pupils reflecting the cold light of the chessboard. "Let me tear them all apart."

On the other side, deep in the sea of ​​fog, a figure finally slowly appeared.

That was Irostia, the Lord of Illusion.

He stood at the end of the fog, wearing a torn and intertwined black and white cloak, his figure blurred, like the gap between dream and reality.

His masks rotated alternately, the mouthless face showed a strange smile, the eyeless face looked straight into the depths of the soul, and the noseless face recited and whispered in silence.

He slowly raised a finger and pointed at the chessboard.

"White King, White Queen, take your seats."

The roar echoed, and the entire ground trembled, and the chessboard was woven by seaweed and coral.

It spread from their feet into the distance, like some kind of revival ritual according to ancient rules.

Across the way, the black chess row slowly rose up - a complete enemy army, with the black king, queen, two bishops, two knights, two rooks, and eight pawns, all in place.

The formation was solemn, like a silent but murderous army.

Irostia chuckled, as if this chess game was just some kind of entertainment. His voice fell like the sound of a bell:
"The chess game starts."

“Every step is a question.”

"Every killing is a satire."

"In this 'Corridor of Falsehood'—meaning is not permitted."

Siming and Celian looked at each other, a smile appeared on the corner of his mouth, and the familiar disdain and arrogance finally reappeared.

"Then we will use this meaningless game to tell you—"

“We never believed in meaning.”

The chessboard hums, and the rules come back to life.

The king and the queen make their move first.

"On the board, who is the player and who is the piece... is ultimately determined by the final move."

(End of this chapter)