The heavy rain poured down relentlessly, razor-sharp streaks of lightning tearing through the layers of ominous dark clouds in the sky. Large raindrops the size of pebbles pounded down from the heavens, pounding flesh and bone, a dull pain left behind by each blow.
The tall city walls were washed pure and clean by the pouring water. For some reason, in the brilliance of the lightning as refracted by the gloomy curtains of rain, those majestic walls that had stood the test of time for countless years seemed to appear an almost deathly alabaster.
Before the snow-white stone wall, a youth knelt on one knee, his head hanging low. The raindrops drenched his entire body from head to toe, pounding his flesh as if venting out their own pain. His short pale blond hair was so wet it stuck to his cheeks, which formed a shocking contrast to the fresh blood oozing out from his forehead, dying his hair red, and trickling down his cheeks.
He gasped violently for air, the breath from his bloodless lips turning into white mist in the freezing cold rain. While kneeling on one knee, his other hand gripped a sharp sword that had been stabbed into the ground. Only then was he able to barely stop himself from toppling over from the force of the raindrops.
Even this baptism of heavy rain was not fast enough to wash away the blood dripping from his forehead. The blood stained his light gold hair, dying the delicate and precious golden ornaments on his forehead, drawing streaks across his cheeks, following the line of his sky-blue gemstone earrings to drip onto his white-clothed shoulders. His clothing, once gorgeous and extravagant, had now been soaked thoroughly by the rainwater. It crumpled and creased as it stuck to his skin, stained with blood and mud alike, making him cut a very sorry figure.
The youth panted violently for a long while, his fingers gripping the hilt of the buried sword to the point where his knuckles had already turned pale. Then, he exerted a great deal of effort to raise his head.
The rain was too heavy, so heavy that even the scenery ten meters away seemed to be veiled with a hazy curtain of water. He let one eye fall half shut, as it stung from the blood trickling into it.
Not far away, he saw a familiar figure emerging from the overlapping curtains of rain and approaching him.
A bolt of lightning that wound like a silver snake struck the earth, its dazzling luster reflected in silver-white armor as the figure walked along the edge of the lotus pond. The delicate blue lotuses had long since been beaten down and knocked over by the heavy rain, the petals shedding away to tremble in hiding within the green lotus leaves. The water within the lotus pond had already overflowed over the edge.
The pitch-black boots stepped on the edge of the lotus pond. With each heavy footfall, the water splashed in all directions.
The youth knelt down on the ground, quietly gasping, watching the tall figure walk slowly until it finally came to a halt standing in front of himself.
His blurred vision could only make out the flash of cold light emanating from the long sword’s tip, currently pointed down at the ground.
“Stand up.”
He heard that man’s deep voice from above, piercing through the heavy curtain of rain.
The boy closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath.
Then, he fiercely gritted his teeth.
The hand gripping the sword hilt exerted his entire life’s worth of strength, to the point where his entire arm trembled uncontrollably. He clenched his teeth, using the very last breath remaining in his body to drag this body that refused to listen, until at last he had stood up, still swaying.
He stood there, panting heavily, grasping the hilt with powerless hands, struggling to lift it in front of him and assume a battle position, even if he clearly knew these actions to be in vain——
That was his last stubbornness.
Even if he died, he didn’t want to be looked down upon by the man in front of him.
Countless chaotic footsteps sounded from behind as if many people were running into this rear garden, before all stopping abruptly. As they waited in the distance, no one attempted to get closer, and no one made a sound. Each and every one only waited quietly for the final result.
Because except for these two, no one else was eligible to participate in this battle.
This battle to seize the supreme throne, with the gods themselves bearing witness.
…………
The battle ended in less than a second. With a crisp clang marking the clash of metal, a long sword stained with blood flew out, spinning in the rain, until it stabbed heavily into the ground.
His only remaining weapon knocked out of his hands, the youth staggered backwards, before his back slammed heavily into the snow-white stone wall.
Then, the very next second, in the instant before he could even exhale—
The sharp silver sword parted the veil of rain.
Ice-cold iron penetrated his chest.
The long sword fiercely nailed his entire body onto the white stone wall, the exposed section of the blade still trembling and humming with the remnants of that terrible power.
Pupils suddenly blown wide, the youth opened his mouth, but could not make a sound. From the dreary black clouds above, another huge bolt of lightning suddenly struck down.
Illuminated by the lightning, in the last second before his consciousness disappeared, he only had enough time to raise his gaze and take one final look at that man who had pierced his heart with a sword.
Amidst the hazy and bleak curtain of rain, he could only see that pair of golden-red irises, like the brutal eyes of a wild beast lurking in the dark jungle.
Malicious and cruel, only needing a single glance to strike utter terror into men’s hearts.
…………
It was over.
Again.
……..
Yes, again.
He was killed again aaaaaghhhh!
That was the roar coming from the very soul of the youth who had been killed time and time again.
Heimos! You bastard! Just you wait!
I will definitely come back again———ain———in————————
……
………………………………
Those weren’t words said in a fit of pique, but the truth. He really could go back.
Because he still has one life left.
He can start from the beginning once more.
…………
The infinite boundless space was shrouded in white mist, with no end in sight, or perhaps no end at all. A small piece of land was suspended within the void, enveloped by a transparent film. It bore a striking similarity to an enormous huge crystal ball shrouded in white fog. Floating within the mist, inside that crystal ball, that light gray stretch of land rested.
Countless broken stone monuments were erected on this land, shaped similarly to obelisks. Although they were incomparably huge, all of them were collapsed to the ground, or broken in half, or tilted beyond repair.
Despite their ruined state, those huge stone monuments retained a majestic momentum, exerting an extreme pressure over anyone who beheld them. They had obviously experienced countless years and centuries, tiny fissures radiating over every surface of the stone like spider webs, revealing an ancient charm of having witnessed the many vicissitudes of life. Numerous mysterious characters had been engraved into the obelisks, but their messages had long been lost to the erosion of time. Although the carved patterns were crude, they inexplicably gave off their own unique rough beauty.
These countless ancient obelisks all surrounded a broken altar, crafted from some unknown stone, off-white in color. This surface too was covered in cracks, with three eye-catching crevices in particular.
It seemed as if time itself was stopped in this place, and there was not even a whisper of sound.
Suddenly, with a resounding rumble, another fracture appeared in the already cracked altar. This rift was larger than any of the previous ones, stretching down diagonally from the upper left corner. It almost split the entire altar into two halves, leaving only a single connecting thread at one point.
“It hurts so much ahhhhhhhhhh!!!”
A scream suddenly shattered the silence of this place.
Just one second after the crack opened in the altar, a youthful figure suddenly appeared out of thin air on the altar.
The youth looked no more than sixteen or seventeen years old. At this moment, he knelt on the fractured altar, his hands clutching his heart as he let out a bitter wail.
It hurts it hurts it really really hurts ahhhhhhhh——
As Garlan flipped down from the altar, he clutched his chest again, stamping his feet and jumping around from the sheer pain. Looking at the agonized grimace on his face now, absolutely no traces could be seen of that proud attitude just a few seconds ago, when he had faced death calmly without fear in front of that man and the rest of the crowd.
……
After all, no one else was watching here, so why bother continuing to pretend to be all heroic and unyielding.
Heimos! You’ve already won, fine, so is it really necessary to kick me when I’m already down?
Man, a sword through the heart! Nailing my entire body to the wall—
It really hurt to death, okay!
After a long while, the remaining pain in his chest finally began to dissipate, allowing Garlan to recover his breath. He let out a long breath and scratched his head, his finger playing with his pale blond hair until the slightly messy strands fell around his eyes.
He sat his butt straight down on the cracked stone steps of the altar, his brows crumpling into a frown, and let out a tired sigh.
Failed again.
Again.
Every time, every single time, he was killed by that Heimos fellow. Is he really the so-called son of destiny?
Isn’t the son of destiny supposed to be guided by fate, ascending to the throne with complete and utter ease?
Why is it that every single time, he dies at that man’s hands, and has the throne seized away from him by that man?
…………
Garlan felt a shred of exhaustion all the way to his soul.
Not long ago, he was just a student busy preparing for his upcoming final exam. His grades were neither particularly good nor particularly bad, so on the eve of the exam he was desperately trying to hug Buddha’s feet1. Then, in the middle of the night while he was busy cramming the textbook, he was inexplicably brought to this ruined altar surrounded by obelisks.
Then, he heard a voice.
[O great Son of Destiny, with the gods bearing witness, please bring the destiny that belongs to you back to its proper trajectory……]
His hand still clutching a pen in the middle of writing notes, the youth’s expression was one of pure stunned confusion.
That emotionless voice reverberated throughout all the heavens and the earth. It stood to reason that such a scene, set amidst the magnificent ruins of the altar and accompanied by a ray of light shining down from the sky, should give off a feeling of grand sacred solemnity.
Akin to accepting the edict of the gods, arousing humanity’s passion and determination.
However, although the meaning of those spoken words was similar to that of the hymns which move people’s hearts, the voice completely failed to capture the appropriate stately and epic tone for such a speech. When Garlan heard the voice, he felt they resembled someone reading off stage lines in a complete monotone.
The emotionless voice continued to recite its lines.
[You belong to destiny, you are the Son of Destiny, carrying the protection of the gods and the love and adoration of thousands and tens of thousands. The moment you were born, the celestial gods in the realm above all whispered your name2…]
Garlan: “???”
Still clutching the pen, he spoke with a wooden face: “Speak human please.”
[…………]
The voice seemed to choke on its words, and paused for a brief moment. When it resumed, instead of talking in that incessant nagging hymn-like chant, it began to explain the entire sequence of events using a cold and indifferent tone.
Following that, Garlan spent a little time to clarify the exact purpose of the voice pulling him to this strange place.
It turned out that he was actually the reincarnation of some very important figure.
According to that voice, his previous previous previous previous life was very awesome—that era’s son of destiny, in fact. He originally should have ascended to the throne and accomplished some great undertaking, to achieve immortal fame and become enshrined in the history books for all eternity.
However, for some unknown reason, an unexpected accident occurred: he was killed by his nemesis before he reached adulthood, and the throne that originally belonged to him was thus taken away. As the throne changed owners, the trajectory of fate changed with it. This angered the gods who originally should have protected that dynasty of kings—they cast a curse upon the kingdom, and that dynasty was destroyed in the flames of war.
Therefore, as the reincarnation of the son of destiny who died halfway, he has the responsibility and the obligation to correct the twisted trajectory of fate, to emerge victorious over the villain who killed him and usurped the throne, thus lifting the gods’ curse and completing the great endeavor that his previous previous previous previous self was unable to finish.
To summarize it all in one sentence: as the son of destiny, he must reclaim the throne that belongs to him.
After learning the cause and effect of all this, Garlan thought it over seriously for a moment, and then refused.
“I rarely ever play games, especially strategy games. That’s why I think you’d have a better chance if you found another reincarnation and let me go back. I still have to continue to prepare for my final exam…”
The emotionless voice rang out again.
“Very well.” It said, “Because of the curse of the gods, throughout all your reincarnations, you will always die upon reaching adulthood. After you die at the age of eighteen, I shall go find your next reincarnation.”
“!!!”
Garlan felt his entire person swaying on the spot.
“Wait! Aren’t I supposed to be the son of destiny, blessed by the gods? What the heck is this curse? I can’t live past the age of eighteen?”
“The son of destiny who has not completed his mission shall be cursed by the gods.”
The voice answered with cold indifference.
Garlan: “………”
“Prepare yourself, I shall send you back to your own time right now…….”
“Alright, Sir Messenger of the Gods! I’ll do it, I’ll do it! Seizing the throne, right? Please leave the task to me!”
Having learned he wouldn’t be able to live long upon returning, the youth decisively interrupted the voice, no trace of fear on his face.
Then, a thought raced through his mind.
“As the so-called son of destiny, do I have any golden fingers3… No, I mean, do I have any special powers or privileges compared to ordinary people? After all, you know that this is a very difficult task for my completely clueless self.”
“You have five chances to start over from the beginning.”
The voice answered coldly.
“Once you are killed by the one who defies fate, time will go backwards and everything will start again.”
Garlan breathed a sigh of relief.
This was equivalent to rebirth.
This kind of feeling was akin to playing a video game without any option to save, one where you have to start all over whenever you die. Perhaps the first attempt is exceedingly difficult, but as you learn the plot and know what your opponent will do in advance, the following tries become much easier.
Excellent.
He thought, just treat it like playing a holographic virtual reality game. As long as he defeats the big BOSS and ascends to the throne, he can go back to his own time and continue preparing for his final exam. Moreover, he even has five lives in this game, so he should be able to clear the game easily no matter what.
…………
……………………
And then, firmly hugging this idea, Garlan was… killed four times in a row by the man who defied fate—his nemesis Heimos.
Every single time, Heimos killed him with his own hands.
Garlan: “…………”
Did the gods get something wrong?
Is the son of destiny really me, and not that fellow Heimos? No matter from what angle he looks at the situation, he feels like that fellow should be the protagonist who unlocked all the cheat codes.
At the very memory of that fellow nailing him to the stone wall just now with a sword through his heart, Garlan felt every single one of his organs start to throb and ache. His chest was particularly painful, as if that sword was still inserted in his heart.
He clutched his chest, and couldn’t help but remember the first time, when he was burnt to death in a sea of fire by that man…
And then the second time, when that man pushed him down from that dizzying height, and all his bones shattered upon the fall…
Then the third time, where that man personally fed him a lethal poison…
And of course the fourth time just now…
What he originally thought to be a tale of strategies for the throne, as written by a son of destiny using cheats to slay his foes and unite the land… turned out to actually be a tale of various miserable dying methods, as written by a fellow who was said to be, supposed to be, should be, could be, might be the son of destiny.
…………
At this moment, this son of destiny with only one life remaining was very distressed.
Translated Author’s Note: This story’s plot can be summarized in a single sentence—everyone dotes on the son of destiny (not).
Translator’s Comments: This novel has its fair share of drama, tears, and sweetness, so prepare your heart for all three ❤ It’s mostly sweet, though, with a Happy Ending of course.
Footnotes:
1. “Hugging Buddha’s feet” is, as it sounds, an iteration of the whole “1 hour before the exam, praying to every god you know that you’ll pass this test” In general it refers to the people who profess their devotion only when they’re in trouble.
2. I’m not 100% sure, but the last sentence here might be a reference to World of Warcraft’s Arthas (lmao).
3. “Golden Finger” is very common Chinese netizen slang for a cheat code, or in the context of web novels, a superpower unique to a protagonist that allows him/her to steamroll everything in his/her way
The heavy rain poured down relentlessly, razor-sharp streaks of lightning tearing through the layers of ominous dark clouds in the sky. Large raindrops the size of pebbles pounded down from the heavens, pounding flesh and bone, a dull pain left behind by each blow.
The tall city walls were washed pure and clean by the pouring water. For some reason, in the brilliance of the lightning as refracted by the gloomy curtains of rain, those majestic walls that had stood the test of time for countless years seemed to appear an almost deathly alabaster.
Before the snow-white stone wall, a youth knelt on one knee, his head hanging low. The raindrops drenched his entire body from head to toe, pounding his flesh as if venting out their own pain. His short pale blond hair was so wet it stuck to his cheeks, which formed a shocking contrast to the fresh blood oozing out from his forehead, dying his hair red, and trickling down his cheeks.
He gasped violently for air, the breath from his bloodless lips turning into white mist in the freezing cold rain. While kneeling on one knee, his other hand gripped a sharp sword that had been stabbed into the ground. Only then was he able to barely stop himself from toppling over from the force of the raindrops.
Even this baptism of heavy rain was not fast enough to wash away the blood dripping from his forehead. The blood stained his light gold hair, dying the delicate and precious golden ornaments on his forehead, drawing streaks across his cheeks, following the line of his sky-blue gemstone earrings to drip onto his white-clothed shoulders. His clothing, once gorgeous and extravagant, had now been soaked thoroughly by the rainwater. It crumpled and creased as it stuck to his skin, stained with blood and mud alike, making him cut a very sorry figure.
The youth panted violently for a long while, his fingers gripping the hilt of the buried sword to the point where his knuckles had already turned pale. Then, he exerted a great deal of effort to raise his head.
The rain was too heavy, so heavy that even the scenery ten meters away seemed to be veiled with a hazy curtain of water. He let one eye fall half shut, as it stung from the blood trickling into it.
Not far away, he saw a familiar figure emerging from the overlapping curtains of rain and approaching him.
A bolt of lightning that wound like a silver snake struck the earth, its dazzling luster reflected in silver-white armor as the figure walked along the edge of the lotus pond. The delicate blue lotuses had long since been beaten down and knocked over by the heavy rain, the petals shedding away to tremble in hiding within the green lotus leaves. The water within the lotus pond had already overflowed over the edge.
The pitch-black boots stepped on the edge of the lotus pond. With each heavy footfall, the water splashed in all directions.
The youth knelt down on the ground, quietly gasping, watching the tall figure walk slowly until it finally came to a halt standing in front of himself.
His blurred vision could only make out the flash of cold light emanating from the long sword’s tip, currently pointed down at the ground.
“Stand up.”
He heard that man’s deep voice from above, piercing through the heavy curtain of rain.
The boy closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath.
Then, he fiercely gritted his teeth.
The hand gripping the sword hilt exerted his entire life’s worth of strength, to the point where his entire arm trembled uncontrollably. He clenched his teeth, using the very last breath remaining in his body to drag this body that refused to listen, until at last he had stood up, still swaying.
He stood there, panting heavily, grasping the hilt with powerless hands, struggling to lift it in front of him and assume a battle position, even if he clearly knew these actions to be in vain——
That was his last stubbornness.
Even if he died, he didn’t want to be looked down upon by the man in front of him.
Countless chaotic footsteps sounded from behind as if many people were running into this rear garden, before all stopping abruptly. As they waited in the distance, no one attempted to get closer, and no one made a sound. Each and every one only waited quietly for the final result.
Because except for these two, no one else was eligible to participate in this battle.
This battle to seize the supreme throne, with the gods themselves bearing witness.
…………
The battle ended in less than a second. With a crisp clang marking the clash of metal, a long sword stained with blood flew out, spinning in the rain, until it stabbed heavily into the ground.
His only remaining weapon knocked out of his hands, the youth staggered backwards, before his back slammed heavily into the snow-white stone wall.
Then, the very next second, in the instant before he could even exhale—
The sharp silver sword parted the veil of rain.
Ice-cold iron penetrated his chest.
The long sword fiercely nailed his entire body onto the white stone wall, the exposed section of the blade still trembling and humming with the remnants of that terrible power.
Pupils suddenly blown wide, the youth opened his mouth, but could not make a sound. From the dreary black clouds above, another huge bolt of lightning suddenly struck down.
Illuminated by the lightning, in the last second before his consciousness disappeared, he only had enough time to raise his gaze and take one final look at that man who had pierced his heart with a sword.
Amidst the hazy and bleak curtain of rain, he could only see that pair of golden-red irises, like the brutal eyes of a wild beast lurking in the dark jungle.
Malicious and cruel, only needing a single glance to strike utter terror into men’s hearts.
…………
It was over.
Again.
……..
Yes, again.
He was killed again aaaaaghhhh!
That was the roar coming from the very soul of the youth who had been killed time and time again.
Heimos! You bastard! Just you wait!
I will definitely come back again———ain———in————————
……
………………………………
Those weren’t words said in a fit of pique, but the truth. He really could go back.
Because he still has one life left.
He can start from the beginning once more.
…………
The infinite boundless space was shrouded in white mist, with no end in sight, or perhaps no end at all. A small piece of land was suspended within the void, enveloped by a transparent film. It bore a striking similarity to an enormous huge crystal ball shrouded in white fog. Floating within the mist, inside that crystal ball, that light gray stretch of land rested.
Countless broken stone monuments were erected on this land, shaped similarly to obelisks. Although they were incomparably huge, all of them were collapsed to the ground, or broken in half, or tilted beyond repair.
Despite their ruined state, those huge stone monuments retained a majestic momentum, exerting an extreme pressure over anyone who beheld them. They had obviously experienced countless years and centuries, tiny fissures radiating over every surface of the stone like spider webs, revealing an ancient charm of having witnessed the many vicissitudes of life. Numerous mysterious characters had been engraved into the obelisks, but their messages had long been lost to the erosion of time. Although the carved patterns were crude, they inexplicably gave off their own unique rough beauty.
These countless ancient obelisks all surrounded a broken altar, crafted from some unknown stone, off-white in color. This surface too was covered in cracks, with three eye-catching crevices in particular.
It seemed as if time itself was stopped in this place, and there was not even a whisper of sound.
Suddenly, with a resounding rumble, another fracture appeared in the already cracked altar. This rift was larger than any of the previous ones, stretching down diagonally from the upper left corner. It almost split the entire altar into two halves, leaving only a single connecting thread at one point.
“It hurts so much ahhhhhhhhhh!!!”
A scream suddenly shattered the silence of this place.
Just one second after the crack opened in the altar, a youthful figure suddenly appeared out of thin air on the altar.
The youth looked no more than sixteen or seventeen years old. At this moment, he knelt on the fractured altar, his hands clutching his heart as he let out a bitter wail.
It hurts it hurts it really really hurts ahhhhhhhh——
As Garlan flipped down from the altar, he clutched his chest again, stamping his feet and jumping around from the sheer pain. Looking at the agonized grimace on his face now, absolutely no traces could be seen of that proud attitude just a few seconds ago, when he had faced death calmly without fear in front of that man and the rest of the crowd.
……
After all, no one else was watching here, so why bother continuing to pretend to be all heroic and unyielding.
Heimos! You’ve already won, fine, so is it really necessary to kick me when I’m already down?
Man, a sword through the heart! Nailing my entire body to the wall—
It really hurt to death, okay!
After a long while, the remaining pain in his chest finally began to dissipate, allowing Garlan to recover his breath. He let out a long breath and scratched his head, his finger playing with his pale blond hair until the slightly messy strands fell around his eyes.
He sat his butt straight down on the cracked stone steps of the altar, his brows crumpling into a frown, and let out a tired sigh.
Failed again.
Again.
Every time, every single time, he was killed by that Heimos fellow. Is he really the so-called son of destiny?
Isn’t the son of destiny supposed to be guided by fate, ascending to the throne with complete and utter ease?
Why is it that every single time, he dies at that man’s hands, and has the throne seized away from him by that man?
…………
Garlan felt a shred of exhaustion all the way to his soul.
Not long ago, he was just a student busy preparing for his upcoming final exam. His grades were neither particularly good nor particularly bad, so on the eve of the exam he was desperately trying to hug Buddha’s feet1. Then, in the middle of the night while he was busy cramming the textbook, he was inexplicably brought to this ruined altar surrounded by obelisks.
Then, he heard a voice.
[O great Son of Destiny, with the gods bearing witness, please bring the destiny that belongs to you back to its proper trajectory……]
His hand still clutching a pen in the middle of writing notes, the youth’s expression was one of pure stunned confusion.
That emotionless voice reverberated throughout all the heavens and the earth. It stood to reason that such a scene, set amidst the magnificent ruins of the altar and accompanied by a ray of light shining down from the sky, should give off a feeling of grand sacred solemnity.
Akin to accepting the edict of the gods, arousing humanity’s passion and determination.
However, although the meaning of those spoken words was similar to that of the hymns which move people’s hearts, the voice completely failed to capture the appropriate stately and epic tone for such a speech. When Garlan heard the voice, he felt they resembled someone reading off stage lines in a complete monotone.
The emotionless voice continued to recite its lines.
[You belong to destiny, you are the Son of Destiny, carrying the protection of the gods and the love and adoration of thousands and tens of thousands. The moment you were born, the celestial gods in the realm above all whispered your name2…]
Garlan: “???”
Still clutching the pen, he spoke with a wooden face: “Speak human please.”
[…………]
The voice seemed to choke on its words, and paused for a brief moment. When it resumed, instead of talking in that incessant nagging hymn-like chant, it began to explain the entire sequence of events using a cold and indifferent tone.
Following that, Garlan spent a little time to clarify the exact purpose of the voice pulling him to this strange place.
It turned out that he was actually the reincarnation of some very important figure.
According to that voice, his previous previous previous previous life was very awesome—that era’s son of destiny, in fact. He originally should have ascended to the throne and accomplished some great undertaking, to achieve immortal fame and become enshrined in the history books for all eternity.
However, for some unknown reason, an unexpected accident occurred: he was killed by his nemesis before he reached adulthood, and the throne that originally belonged to him was thus taken away. As the throne changed owners, the trajectory of fate changed with it. This angered the gods who originally should have protected that dynasty of kings—they cast a curse upon the kingdom, and that dynasty was destroyed in the flames of war.
Therefore, as the reincarnation of the son of destiny who died halfway, he has the responsibility and the obligation to correct the twisted trajectory of fate, to emerge victorious over the villain who killed him and usurped the throne, thus lifting the gods’ curse and completing the great endeavor that his previous previous previous previous self was unable to finish.
To summarize it all in one sentence: as the son of destiny, he must reclaim the throne that belongs to him.
After learning the cause and effect of all this, Garlan thought it over seriously for a moment, and then refused.
“I rarely ever play games, especially strategy games. That’s why I think you’d have a better chance if you found another reincarnation and let me go back. I still have to continue to prepare for my final exam…”
The emotionless voice rang out again.
“Very well.” It said, “Because of the curse of the gods, throughout all your reincarnations, you will always die upon reaching adulthood. After you die at the age of eighteen, I shall go find your next reincarnation.”
“!!!”
Garlan felt his entire person swaying on the spot.
“Wait! Aren’t I supposed to be the son of destiny, blessed by the gods? What the heck is this curse? I can’t live past the age of eighteen?”
“The son of destiny who has not completed his mission shall be cursed by the gods.”
The voice answered with cold indifference.
Garlan: “………”
“Prepare yourself, I shall send you back to your own time right now…….”
“Alright, Sir Messenger of the Gods! I’ll do it, I’ll do it! Seizing the throne, right? Please leave the task to me!”
Having learned he wouldn’t be able to live long upon returning, the youth decisively interrupted the voice, no trace of fear on his face.
Then, a thought raced through his mind.
“As the so-called son of destiny, do I have any golden fingers3… No, I mean, do I have any special powers or privileges compared to ordinary people? After all, you know that this is a very difficult task for my completely clueless self.”
“You have five chances to start over from the beginning.”
The voice answered coldly.
“Once you are killed by the one who defies fate, time will go backwards and everything will start again.”
Garlan breathed a sigh of relief.
This was equivalent to rebirth.
This kind of feeling was akin to playing a video game without any option to save, one where you have to start all over whenever you die. Perhaps the first attempt is exceedingly difficult, but as you learn the plot and know what your opponent will do in advance, the following tries become much easier.
Excellent.
He thought, just treat it like playing a holographic virtual reality game. As long as he defeats the big BOSS and ascends to the throne, he can go back to his own time and continue preparing for his final exam. Moreover, he even has five lives in this game, so he should be able to clear the game easily no matter what.
…………
……………………
And then, firmly hugging this idea, Garlan was… killed four times in a row by the man who defied fate—his nemesis Heimos.
Every single time, Heimos killed him with his own hands.
Garlan: “…………”
Did the gods get something wrong?
Is the son of destiny really me, and not that fellow Heimos? No matter from what angle he looks at the situation, he feels like that fellow should be the protagonist who unlocked all the cheat codes.
At the very memory of that fellow nailing him to the stone wall just now with a sword through his heart, Garlan felt every single one of his organs start to throb and ache. His chest was particularly painful, as if that sword was still inserted in his heart.
He clutched his chest, and couldn’t help but remember the first time, when he was burnt to death in a sea of fire by that man…
And then the second time, when that man pushed him down from that dizzying height, and all his bones shattered upon the fall…
Then the third time, where that man personally fed him a lethal poison…
And of course the fourth time just now…
What he originally thought to be a tale of strategies for the throne, as written by a son of destiny using cheats to slay his foes and unite the land… turned out to actually be a tale of various miserable dying methods, as written by a fellow who was said to be, supposed to be, should be, could be, might be the son of destiny.
…………
At this moment, this son of destiny with only one life remaining was very distressed.
Translated Author’s Note: This story’s plot can be summarized in a single sentence—everyone dotes on the son of destiny (not).
Translator’s Comments: This novel has its fair share of drama, tears, and sweetness, so prepare your heart for all three ❤ It’s mostly sweet, though, with a Happy Ending of course.
Footnotes:
1. “Hugging Buddha’s feet” is, as it sounds, an iteration of the whole “1 hour before the exam, praying to every god you know that you’ll pass this test” In general it refers to the people who profess their devotion only when they’re in trouble.
2. I’m not 100% sure, but the last sentence here might be a reference to World of Warcraft’s Arthas (lmao).
3. “Golden Finger” is very common Chinese netizen slang for a cheat code, or in the context of web novels, a superpower unique to a protagonist that allows him/her to steamroll everything in his/her way
