Secret World: I Became a God Through Lies

Chapter 392 The Stars Remain Silent
"When the stars are silent, fate has already written its ending."

All we can do is leave traces of our struggle on this predetermined script.

Even if it's just a futile resistance in the end,

It is more dignified than submitting to fate.

—Excerpt from "Dream Weaver's Notes: Whispers of Delusion"

The Dream Weaver floated silently in the void, countless threads of fate intertwined around his body like stars, shimmering with an eerie light, like a song of destiny destined to be tragic.

He lowered his head slightly and spoke slowly in a detached and calm voice:

"You don't really understand what a 'back room' is."

Si Ming stared warily at the Dream Weaver before him, his eyes sharp as knives.
His tone betrayed barely concealed tension and unease: "The back room? What secrets are hidden here?"

The Dream Weaver paused for a moment, as if considering how to unveil the true nature of this bizarre dream. When his voice rang out again, it was deep and drawn-out, like the whispers of stars in the depths of the universe:
"Every monster, every space, every shadow you see is actually a reflection of yourself."

Siming's pupils suddenly contracted, a chill rising from the depths of his heart, icyly gripping his nerves: "What do you mean?"

The Dream Weaver slowly raised his palm, outlining blurry and distorted figures in the void.

The figures kept struggling, shouting and resisting, but each one eventually vanished in endless despair and collapse.

As Si Ming gazed at the figures, a sudden shock ran through him—each shadow possessed its own face, and each countenance was etched with different kinds of pain and despair.

"These are the countless possibilities for your future," the Dream Weaver said softly, her voice carrying a chilling sense of destiny, like a falling star.

"At some point in the future, you will eventually step into a battlefield called the 'Land of the End,' where a fierce battle of gods will take place."

"The war of those who ascend to godhood?" Si Ming frowned, repeating in a low voice, his tone filled with an indescribable heaviness and pressure.

The Dream Weaver nodded calmly: "When the 27 extraordinary paths to godhood gather together, the Gate of the End will open."

The Lord of the Gate, the Dark Mother, and the Lord of Fate jointly established the rules and held this ritualistic battle.

To please that older and unspeakable being—the 'Primordial One.' And we are all pawns thrown into it."

As Si Ming listened to the Dream Weaver's somber, almost fatalistic narration, a profound shadow and sense of oppression gradually rose in his heart. He raised his head, staring coldly at the other: "You participated in that war?"

A subtle, almost imperceptible sadness flickered deep in the Dream Weaver's eyes as she sighed softly and said:

"Yes. I have stepped onto that battlefield and fought against fate. But as you can see, I ultimately failed. Even if I could control the threads of fate, I still could not escape my destined fate."

Si Ming paused for a moment, took a deep breath, trying to calm the turbulent waves in his heart, and spoke in a low but firm tone:
"So, are you showing me all this to tell me that I'm also destined to fail?"

The Dream Weaver gazed silently at the Fate Master, her eyes like whirlpools deep within the stars, so profound they were breathtaking.

"The back room before you is a cage specially built by the Lord of the Gate to imprison you and me."

Every monster here, every dark corridor, every space you step into is nothing more than a fragment left behind after each of your failed attempts to ascend to godhood.

They are a constant reminder that you cannot escape the pursuit of fate.

A stronger emotion welled up in Si Ming's eyes—a long-suppressed anger and resentment.

His voice was low and cold, yet his words carried a sharp, resolute edge:
"Are you telling me all this so that I'll give up the fight?"

The dream weaver slowly raised her head, her gaze carrying a quiet peace and helplessness born from a profound understanding of fate:

"No. I just want you to truly understand that the cruelty of fate far exceeds your imagination, and what kind of being we are fighting against."

Si Ming was silent for a moment, then his eyes regained their sharpness and determination, and his voice, like a sharp sword, pierced the void, carrying an undeniable resolve:
“I know better than you do the cruelty and wickedness of fate… but as long as I live, I will never give in.”

The moment the words fell, the Dream Weaver's figure trembled slightly, and the threads of fate around her vibrated gently, as if telling a story of unspoken sorrow and acceptance.

Silence fell once again in the void.

That tranquility was not peace, but a brief and false calm before a far more devastating storm was about to break.

The Dream Weaver's lips curled into a strange and elusive smile, as if she had glimpsed an age-old tragedy unfolding once more.

His voice held a hint of mockery, as calm as a whisper in the void:

"Very well, this is the person I've been waiting for. Now, would you like to hear the real way to leave this place?"

Si Ming stared directly at the Dream Weaver's familiar yet unfamiliar face, and replied in a deep voice:
"explain."

The Dream Weaver slowly raised his hand, and in his palm, the threads of fate intertwined like stars, flowing with a dreamlike silver light. His tone was indifferent and detached:
"Go to the 904th floor, defeat the 'Gambler of Fate' and take the key from him to leave the back room—that is your only way out."

Si Ming remained silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on the Dream Weaver, a sense of doubt and vigilance rising within him that he could hardly suppress.

How can you be so sure I will succeed?

The Dream Weaver's lips curved into a slight smile, a smile tinged with almost cruel mockery and pity, her voice like a sigh as she stated the truth:

“Success? I have observed you at countless points in time. In the five-dimensional space, your future is as clear as the Milky Way, but I regret that I have never seen you truly reach the other side of ‘success’.”

Si Ming's pupils trembled violently, as if his heart were being gripped by an invisible hand. He suppressed his unsteady breathing and pressed on in a low, persistent voice:

"Have there never been any exceptions?"

The dream weaver paused for a moment, a deep sorrow flashing in her eyes, before slowly revealing the cruel truth:

“I have witnessed you step into the back room 1,107,664,117 times, and every ‘you’ has asked me the same question as you are now.”

Ultimately, in the endless expanse beyond my observation, only one person truly ascends to the 904th floor, facing the gambler of fate.

Si Ming gritted her teeth, her fingertips trembling slightly, but she quickly regained her composure and resolve.

He raised his head, his voice revealing an awe-inspiring determination and the desperate gamble of a young gambler:
"One in 1.1 billion, even the odds of winning the lottery are higher than that. But this time, I'm betting."

The Dream Weaver gazed silently at the Fate Master, her unfathomable eyes like a vast starry sea. The mockery and pity gradually faded, replaced by an indescribable complex emotion.

He sighed softly, as if whispering to fate:

"Then let me confirm one more time, to see if you really are the only exception."

Having said that, he slowly raised his hand, and threads of fate gathered from all directions in the void, intertwining into a mysterious symbol that shimmered with silver light.

Si Ming stared at the symbol, a sense of indescribable fear and vigilance rising in his heart.

“Siming, we’ll go with you.” Celian’s voice was calm and firm, like a flame beneath the ice, weak yet burning brightly. Lynn nodded slightly without hesitation: “No matter what, we will face it with you.”

Si Ming turned to look at them, a warm feeling rising in his heart.

But before he could respond, the Dream Weaver suddenly let out a cold laugh, a laugh like shattered ice in the dead of winter, instantly setting off alarm bells in Si Ming's heart.

"What a deeply moving scene." The Dream Weaver raised his palm, and countless threads of fate suddenly emerged from the void like shadows.
It quickly bound Serian, Lynn, Lin Yuxi, and the others into a silver dream cocoon, which then floated in mid-air.

"What are you trying to do?!" Si Ming roared angrily, taking a step forward, but it was too late to stop him.

The group struggled, but it was as if they had entered another illusory world. Their voices and figures quickly became blurred and fleeting, gradually moving away from Si Ming's perception.

Si Ming turned around, glaring angrily at the Dream Weaver, her eyes filled with barely suppressed rage and accusation:
"What does this mean? What exactly do you want to do?!"

The Dream Weaver's expression was calm as still water, yet his voice carried a strange blend of indifference and madness:

“I have already told you that in the countless futures I have witnessed, they have never accompanied you to the end. Since fate has already decided this way, this time will naturally be no exception.”

Siming laughed in fury, his voice low and almost icy: "What right do you have to decide their fate?"

The Dream Weaver raised his gaze, a hidden and suppressed madness flashing in his eyes, but his tone remained calm and composed:
“I can’t decide their fate, but you can. The gambler of fate on the 904th floor awaits you, and the key is there too. I’ll look after these companions for now.”

Si Ming clenched his fists, his gaze sharp as a blade: "What exactly do you want? Do you think you can threaten me like this?"

The Dream Weaver suddenly let out a low laugh, a sound that seemed to transcend the emptiness of endless ages, a whisper like a dream, cold and distorted:
“Threat? You’re wrong. I’m just reminding you that time here is meaningless, and my sanity… is almost gone.”

A sudden, intense unease welled up within Si Ming. He finally clearly realized that the being before him, who looked exactly like him,

They have long since become monsters woven from fate and madness, their rationality like a gradually extinguished spark, destined to be annihilated in darkness.

The Dream Weaver turned around, her back to the Fate Master, her voice icy and filled with endless sarcasm:
"If you fail to return in time, these vibrant lives trapped in the dream cocoon will likely only become my last 'snack' before my sanity completely collapses..."

"How dare you!" Si Ming roared, his anger almost burning his reason to ashes.

The Dream Weaver paid no heed, and with a gentle wave of his hand, the gate to the void suddenly opened. An irresistible force forcibly pulled the Dream Weaver into the deeper, more bizarre world of the inner chamber.

As the Fate Master struggled to be swallowed by the void, his last gaze fell upon the Dream Weaver, his eyes blazing with unquenchable fury and unwavering resolve:

You will pay the price for this!

The Dream Weaver merely raised the corners of her lips slightly, a cold and crazed smile on her face, and whispered:

"Hurry up, my past self. Because here, I don't know how much longer I can hold on. Perhaps in the next moment, I will completely succumb to madness and devour your companions..."

Si Ming was completely swallowed by the void, and deep within his heart, loneliness, anger, and fear overwhelmed him like a tidal wave.

The void slowly closed, like a giant eye indifferently shutting its doors, and Si Ming's vision gradually returned to clarity.

He stood alone on the edge of the deeper level of the back room, surrounded by a silence that seemed to have swallowed all sound. The air was thick with a sense of oppression that made it almost suffocating.

Ahead, countless crisscrossing corridors stretched into the distance like a spider web, dense and intricate, leading to an unknown and chaotic end.

Their end vanishes into the dark depths of the void, like fate itself, endless, disordered, and untraceable.

Tiny, star-like fragments floated in the air, emitting a cold and eerie blue light, like the eyes of a dead god staring at the intruders who had strayed into the labyrinth.

These fragments drift slowly and elusively, exuding an aura of destiny, as if telling the stories of countless losers who, like Si Ming, once trod this place, and whose lamentations and struggles still linger here to this day.

With each step he took, Siming could feel a faint but deep tremor beneath his feet; it wasn't a real vibration.
It was more like a low sigh emanating from the intersection of countless destinies, echoing deep within his soul, causing his loneliness and fear to spread little by little.

Si Ming slowly inhaled a breath of cold air, trying to calm his violently beating heart, but loneliness, despair, and unease surged in like a tide, drowning him in the endless void within his heart.

Only then did he truly realize that he was completely isolated and helpless, and that no one could help him withstand the onslaught of fate.

From the depths of the labyrinth came eerie and ethereal whispers, the voice so faint it seemed as if the Lord of Fate stood behind him, softly reciting some ancient and somber poem:

"Siming, do you see this? This is your destiny."

The whispered voice was cold and mocking, carrying a sarcastic tone, like a deity watching over ants, scrutinizing every futile struggle of the God of Fate:

"Your struggle is nothing but a game destined to fail; the outcome has already been decided."

Si Ming gritted his teeth, and fine beads of cold sweat appeared on his forehead.

He slowly raised his head, gazing at the oppressive and eerie starry sky above, feeling an unprecedented sense of loneliness and helplessness.

The stars looked down at him indifferently, like the gaze of countless judges, watching his every staggering and heavy step.

"Was this a game ordained by fate from the very beginning?"

Si Ming murmured softly, a brief look of confusion and vulnerability appearing in his eyes.

Just then, another familiar yet mocking voice rang out, its tone filled with lazy sarcasm and indifferent nonchalance:
"Look, now there's another, even more annoying voice. Don't you find it amusing, Siming?"

The whispers of fate haunted Si Ming like a nightmare, a shadow she could never escape, laughing silently:

"In the past, it was only Irostia and I who kept you company day and night, but now there's the Dream Weaver too. How lively! Don't you enjoy this feeling of being surrounded by fate and illusion?"

Si Ming sighed deeply, offering no reply. He walked forward alone and silently.

He let the endless whispers assault his reason and defenses like waves.

Footsteps echoed through the labyrinthine corridors, each step feeling like stepping on the deepest, most hidden fears of one's soul.

He knew that this path was lonely and dangerous from the very beginning, with no possibility of turning back. All he could do was keep moving forward and face the fate hidden beneath the fog and the truth.

But the endless whispers of destiny deep within the labyrinth still haunted him, never ceasing, until the very end.

All destinies will eventually become lonely and long whispers.

Wandering in the labyrinth of illusion until the self is completely annihilated.

Only the one who truly gazes into the depths of destiny...

Only then can we glimpse the ultimate secret of survival and struggle.

—Excerpt from "Notes of the Dream Weaver of Destiny: The Labyrinth of Illusion"

(End of this chapter)