Secret World: I Became a God Through Lies

Chapter 179 The Scales of Fate

"On the scales of fate, every choice is a torture to the soul."

In the dark space, the scales are suspended in the center of the void, like a silent judgment seat, separating reality and dreams at both ends.

On one side, Calvino and Lilia stand side by side, their figures elongated and trembling in the light and shadow under the scale;
On the other side were Alison, Baroque, Ian and Rex. Their outlines were clear and firm, but they were also swallowed up by the mist of dreams.

At each end of the scale is an ancient, sleepless pocket watch, with its pointer sliding slowly on the transparent dial.

Every five minutes, a fluorescent fish swims into the theater, descending from the sky, casting a faint blue, like a reflection in a deep-sea dream.

The first fluorescent fish quietly emerged. The spot of light from its abdomen reflected on everyone's faces, and everyone's expression was gradually stained by tension and oppression.

The balance slowly tilted—towards Alison and the others.

This means that Calvino and Lilia are at a disadvantage at the moment.

The whisper of a dream emerged in Calvino's ears, like the whisper of a lover, or the murmur of a dead soul, gentle yet creepy:

"Give up. Sleep is not a punishment, but a gentle redemption."

Calvino clenched his fists until the knuckles turned white.

A deep light ignited in his eyes, which was the faith and the determination of a gambler who was going all out.

"We can't just sit there and wait for death." His voice was low, as if declaring war on fate itself. "Lilia."

"I understand, Captain." Lilia nodded, her eyes clear.

The two of them reached out almost at the same time and turned the sleepless pocket watches on their wrists.

“Click—click—”

The pointer jumped wildly, and the sobriety value was rapidly decreasing at a speed visible to the naked eye.

The dream space suddenly became quiet, and even time seemed to stop for a moment.

Alison tried to step forward to stop it, but was blocked by an invisible barrier, as if even her voice was frozen in the water and could not be transmitted.

Ian cursed, drew his sword and tried to charge, but his body seemed to be stuck in glue and he couldn't move an inch.

At the same time, Calvino's consciousness began to blur.

The hallucination, like a huge whale lurking in the deep sea of ​​consciousness, rose silently and swallowed him in one gulp.

The moment Calvino opened his eyes, the wind was howling, lightning was splitting the clouds, and he was standing on the familiar deck.

That was the old deck of the Lost—before it became a ghost ship.

The wood grain is still smooth, the mast is flying high with a battle flag, the sails are fully hoisted, and the ship is shaking violently in the raging sea.

On the opposite side, a figure was clearly frozen in the lightning.

His father, Adrian.

He was once hailed as the greatest pirate captain in the Sea of ​​Dreams and the first helmsman of the Lost.

Those hawk-like eyes, now filled with suffocating calmness and disappointment, slowly approached.

“Italo Calvino.”

His voice was like a reef after the tide receded, cold and ruthless.

"You promised me to protect Lilia and to lead this ship unsinkable. But have you done it?"

"You made her your victim, dragging her into the abyss of nightmare with you."

"Are you qualified to be a captain?"

That's not a rebuke—that's a judgment.

The lightning illuminated his father's face, and every wrinkle was like a reef marked on a navigation map, filled with Calvino's memories.

He slowly drew his sword, and the blade's surging light cut through the night in the wind and rain.

His voice was calm, yet it spoke louder than the storm.

"I won't let you dictate my choices."

"You are not a judge, nor a curse. You are the lighthouse in my heart that always guides me home, not a shackle."

The father did not answer, but drew his sword in response.

—A pirate tradition, the sword-piercing ceremony. The sword is the oath, the blood is the atonement.

Father and son, dueling on the bow of the stormy ship.

Steel collided with steel, and every blow created a sword wind like a wave, splashing water on the deck.

His father's sword was as fast as lightning, precise and sharp, and every thrust cut into the cracks in his heart.

"You're too hesitant."

A sword stabbed and cut through the cloak on his arm.

"You're too weak."

Another sword strike forced him back and pressed him under the mast.

"You can't carry this ship, let alone the people who died for you."

Every accusation was like thunder exploding in my heart.

Calvino was panting, his body swaying, and under his feet were red lines mixed with rain and his own blood.

He wanted to retort, but couldn't utter a word.

The storm rolled violently, as if urging him to make a decision.

——The father is like a statue made of nightmare, always standing in front of him and telling him: You don’t deserve it.

But at the moment when he was pushed to the end of the deck and the waves were collapsing like a cliff, he suddenly smiled.

He slowly stretched out his hand—not to block, not to swing his sword, but to grab the blade of his father's sword.

Blood instantly flowed down the blade, and his fingers curled up on the sharp blade. The pain was real and hot, but it made his soul as clear as a knife.

"You are not my father."

He raised his head and looked into those phantom eyes, his voice low but firm as a nail.

"You wouldn't say that to me. You wouldn't replace courage with regret, or leadership with blame."

"You wouldn't stop me from sailing into the storm—you'd say: Go ahead. Don't be afraid."

"Because you are—Adrian, the Storm King of the Sea of ​​Dreams."

He swung his sword backhand, slashing it sideways and shattering the illusion.

Like a mirror exploding, the rain stopped, and the dream distorted.

With an extremely firm thrust, he split the cage made of false blood.

Before the illusion disappeared, my father stood in the wind, but his eyes had changed.

That was the real father in his memory.

The man who would pick him up from the side of the ship with a smile, the captain who held Lilia and played the harmonica in his arms when she was a child.

"Pirates are born in the storm and die in the tide."

The phantom finally spoke.

"Ghost Captain, you open up a channel for your crew without any regrets."

"Remember this, son—only by being fearless can you face the ever-changing sea of ​​illusions. Cowardice only keeps you ashore."

"And you—are already standing on the crest of the wave."

Calvino was stunned.

The phantom smiled gently, and that smile was the arc of his last wave deep in his memory.

"Stop doubting yourself. Your crew is waiting for you. They're not afraid of dying—they're afraid of you refusing to live."

The next second, the dream sea illusion receded like the tide, the deck collapsed, the sails withered, and the waves tore like shredded paper.

He returned to the scale, the pocket watch trembling slightly in his palm.

The balance slowly tilted.

His figure is steadier than the wind.

He lowered his head, looked at the little bit of dried blood on his palm, and murmured in a deep voice:

"I'm not alive—I'm ready to take everything on their shoulders."

He swung his sword back and cut through the illusion.

The mirror-like illusion shattered like broken glass, and the deck in his dream receded like the tide, and he was back on the scale.

Lilia was kneeling beside him, her face pale, her lips trembling slightly, and the pointer on her pocket watch was approaching the last mark.

She still clutched her pocket watch, the veins on the back of her hand bulging, as if her entire soul was desperately clinging to the last vestiges of clarity. A fourth fluorescent fish slowly swam out of the theater dome, leaving a cold blue shadow before everyone's eyes.

Only one chance left.

The balance remains unchanged.

Even more inclined towards Alison and others.

Even though Calvino and Lilia almost exhausted their sobriety points, they were unable to equalize the score.

Calvino slowly raised his hand and placed it over the pocket watch on his chest.

The old pocket watch trembled slightly, as if responding to his heartbeat, and as if waiting for his final decision.

"Lilia, I have a solution." Calvino uttered these words with difficulty, his voice low and hoarse, his chest heaving violently.

His breathing seemed to be tearing every breath of oxygen from the deep sea. "But... I need your trust."

Lilia looked at him quietly, her eyes as calm as water, as if she already knew everything.

She gave a soft but firm smile: "I always trust you, brother."

Her voice was as light as the wind, but heavier than the wind.

Calvino closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

At that moment, he seemed to bury the entire "Lost" in his heart: the swaying pulse of masts and sails,

The smell of curses and laughter from the crew on deck, the chill that dived into the water in the middle of the night, and the echo of the anchor biting into the deep mud.

He exhaled slowly, as if spitting out a piece of fate.

Then he whispered:
"As the captain of the Lost, I bear the full weight of any debt owed by the crew of the Lost—whether it be in memory, pain, or the cost of sanity."

The words fell.

There was a loud roar.

The entire scale suddenly struck like a divine hammer! Amidst the violent tremors, rays of lucidity emerged from the pocket watches of Alison, Ian, Rex, and Baroque.

Like broken stars flying out, the light intertwined, like the fragments of memory splashed out when the ring of fate peeled off.

They looked in amazement at the points of light formed by their conscious will.
It was as if my consciousness was being pulled away, but there was no pain, only a cold feeling of exhaustion.

The light swirled and gathered, finally all falling into the pocket watch on Calvino's chest.

The pocket watch began to tick wildly, the hands swinging back and forth, as if it was about to go off track or explode.

And Calvino just stood there quietly.

He didn't groan, didn't tremble, didn't even frown.

Only his shadow stretched longer and longer under the scale, as if his soul had been nailed to this scene by the world itself.

Lilia looked at him, her eyes red for a moment, but she said nothing.

She gently took off her pocket watch and lowered her head, as if kissing something goodbye.

"Our destinies..." she whispered, her voice dreamy, "have long been tied to the same boat, brother."

She placed the pocket watch on the scales and gently pushed it with her finger, sending it into the weight of fate.

The balance shook.

A violent, decisive and irreversible shock!
It was like the realm of dreams finally sensed some real "choice",
The entire space was buzzing at that moment, the air seemed to have condensed into the thickness of mercury, and even breathing was slowed down.

The fifth fluorescent fish slowly emerged from the water, its body transparent and elegant, like the dawn breaking the silence, flashing through the void.

It swam into the center of the light column.

The balance scales then rang with a loud bang, and the entire dream world seemed to be lifted up by an invisible force and then smashed down heavily!
click -

The balance is fixed.

Tilt, tilt completely!

On Calvino and Lilia's side, heavy pressure came down!

They won.

Below the scales, the chains wailed, and the surroundings of the theater began to collapse. The dream realm retreated layer by layer like melting ice and snow, leaving behind a gradually shrinking light.

And the figures of the two of them were slowly erased in this light.

Not death, not sleep, but - leaving.

They walked out of the dream at the end of the dream.

No one knew where they would be sent, they only knew that a gentle door was opening in the light, and they stepped in.

The sea breeze seemed to stop at that moment.

No more whispers, no more temptations, no more rules.

Only the silhouettes of the brother and sister standing side by side were gently put away by the last glimmer of dream light.

The crew stood still, no one uttering a word. It was as if the entire theater had been frozen in that moment, even the echoes of the dream had sunk to the bottom of the sea.

Their eyes all turned to the other side of the empty scale.

There, their captain and his sister should have been standing.

Alison's fingertips trembled slightly and her eyes were red. She wanted to reach out and grab something, but when she came to her senses, there was only cold air in her palm.

She moved her lips several times before she managed to squeeze out a sound:
"They...really chose to sleep."

The voice was so soft that it was almost inaudible, like a belated farewell.

Ian lowered his head, his usual playful expression gone, and a heavy look written across his brow.

His voice was soft and hoarse, as if it would be blown away by the wind at any time:
"For us... they risked everything."

"For all of us."

He closed his eyes, as if burying the weight that had been weighing on his heart for a long time deep into his body.

Rex stood there, his right hand unconsciously stroking the broken lens at the corner of his eye, and muttered softly:

"I hear the wind...crying."

"It said... Captain, there was no time to say goodbye."

That whisper, like the sound of a tide penetrating the soul, quietly spread in everyone's ears.

And Baroque——

He didn't speak.

He just stood there like a silent reef, motionless. He slowly took off the "Sleepless Pocket Watch" from his wrist.

He pressed his chest back, pressed it tightly with his palms, lowered his head, closed his eyes, and was as silent as if he was keeping vigil.

No one dared to break the silence.

Because they all understand—

Their captain exchanged his own sleep for their return.

Not because he wanted to win, but because he couldn't let them lose.

It's not because he is not afraid of death, but because he does not allow anyone to die in his place.

At that moment, they finally saw clearly that Calvino——

The man who had been carrying a ship, a sister, and the names of countless dead people, still played two roles in the end:
One is the "captain" who holds on to the last moment for the crew.

One is the "older brother" who gambles his entire existence for his sister.

The scales fell silent, the light faded, and the ceremony ended.

The fifth fluorescent fish floated quietly in the void, like a meteor sliding into the sea of ​​dreams, and quietly went out.

And in the depths of the distant sea of ​​fog, a glimmer of light finally emerged.

That is the intersection leading to the core of the dream, and only the winner is qualified to enter.

They won the gamble.

But the price is the sinking of two souls.

The light burned quietly, like a beacon illuminating the way home, but beneath that light, all of them felt a sense of heaviness and respect in their hearts.

Victory is never about cheering, but about continuing to carry the burden.

“Some people sink into the depths of the ocean, not because they are lost, but because they choose to be a lighthouse.”

“Italo Calvino was not consumed by the dream; he simply walked ahead of us.”

"Because the captain never lives on the summit of glory, but sinks to the bottom of the darkest sea—just so we can see the shore."

(End of this chapter)