Secret World: I Became a God Through Lies

Chapter 437, Act Two: The Divine Play Begins

"A ceasefire is a calling card offered by the weak; God shakes hands only on equal footing and collects the corpses on the battlefield of victory."

—From *Theater Prompts: Truce*

The wind was cold in front of the palace. The blood moon had retreated behind the clouds, leaving only a dark red edge. Gravel and dust slowly settled on the ground.

Si Ming stood wearing a clown mask, the smile lines on the mask outlined by a thin, bright line of blood, and the threads of fate on the back of his fingers vibrated gently in the air.

Medici spoke first, her voice calm: "Now that we are of equal rank, there is no need to expend our energy on mortals. Ceasefire. Draw a line. Each of us shall uphold our authority."

Liseria looked at him, her gaze cold and indifferent: "Leave the city behind. This is the end for tonight."

Si Ming glanced at them, as if looking at a substandard invitation.

He raised his hand and gently flicked away a drop of blood from his fingertip, his voice very calm:
"Not accepted."

Medici raised an eyebrow: "Reason?"

“I’m not happy.” Si Ming smiled, a hint of sarcasm in the shape of his lips beneath the mask. “Besides, I said before the war started—I want you all dead.”

He raised his hand, the smile lines on his mask overlapping with the shadows of the cards on his fingertips, and added in a low voice:
"That was my lie. And the lie of the Lord of Lies will surely come true."

A drop of blood seeped from a crack in the ground, but it was quickly severed by a strand of fate thread on the back of his hand, like cutting off an unsightly thread.

The clown mask had very dark eye sockets, so dark that his pupils were not visible. Only the faint outline of the yellow-clad figure could be seen behind him.

Medici chuckled, her sneer undisguised: "You've barely hit the threshold and you're already dreaming of taking on two at once?"

"You underestimate me." Si Ming flicked his wrist slightly, a playing card resting on his knuckles, a cold glint flashing across its edge. "Above the Star Calamity—add two more Supreme Beings, how about that?"

Liseria lowered her eyes, her fingertips tightening on the side of her skirt: "Speaking such nonsense will not let you live any longer."

“I did not ask to live.” Si Ming turned his face to the side, his mask seeming to smile even more deeply in the dark red moonlight. “I only keep my word.”

After he finished speaking, he raised his finger and gently swept it across the sky. The thread of fate hanging in the air tightened, and the wind suddenly quieted down. In the distance, city lights lit up one by one, like someone arranging a chessboard.

"Ceasefire?" he repeated in a low voice, as if crumpling a piece of paper and tossing it aside. "I have no interest in it."

The God of Fate raised his finger, and it looked as if a dent had been pressed into the air by his fingertip, followed by a bulge of cold white.

It was a humanoid figure wearing a white mask, its skin almost imperceptible, its features minimalist. It didn't speak, it simply stood there, an unseen force spreading along its shoulders and back—

The cracks that were spreading outwards in the wall stopped; the ripples of blood on the ground flowed back into beads, hanging upside down in mid-air; in the distance, a swaying female statue pillar stabilized and stopped tilting.

The Master of Fate explained simply: "The Lord of Fate—not an apostle, nor an agent of God, but fate itself."

The air to his right was tinged with a dim yellow, and a figure in yellow emerged from the shadows.

The yellow robes remained still in the wind, like oil that had absorbed light; the face was covered by a mask of stars, the positions of the stars fixed, yet the more one looked, the more uneasy one felt, as if the lines subtly changed with each change of angle.

"The King in Yellow. — The writer under the throne of fate, responsible for writing the script that all beings will see," said the God of Fate.

The moment the two stood together, the environment changed immediately:

The red blanket covering the blood rain was pulled back a bit, leaving only a wet shadow; the wailing was still there, but the high frequencies of the piercing sounds were cut off, as if someone had closed a metal door.
The flickering flames were brought under control, leaving only a functional brightness, and the illusory fire was extinguished.

On the left, let everything that is spreading stop; on the right, let the chaotic attention be drawn back.

Medici narrowed her eyes and said coldly, "Only shadows?"

"That's enough," Si Ming said lazily. "It's enough to make you slow down your actions by half a step and your thoughts by one line."

Liseria raised her eyes, her fingertips lightly clenching: "If we pile up heads, you won't survive."

“It’s not about piling up heads,” Si Ming said, holding a playing card upright on the back of his finger, “it’s about inviting those who are meant to come.”

He looked at the blood cocoon in the distance. Bubbles began to form on the surface of the blood cocoon, as if it had been set ablaze from the inside; the next instant, the whole thing boiled, cracking open with fine lines, and black smoke billowed out from each line.

"You think you caught her?" Si Ming said softly, "That was just my clone, a clone that took my place."

Suddenly, above the sky, behind the blood-red clouds, a giant snake's eye slowly opened.

His vertical pupils were cold and aloof, their edges covered with ancient scales, each scale larger than a city block.

The city is just a speck of dust in this eye, and with a slight movement of the white of the eye, the entire city trembles.

"The real her—is here."

A shadow fell from the center of the snake's eye. From within the shadow, a person emerged from the void: long scarlet hair, blood-red battle armor clinging to her body, her steps steady, the rubble beneath her feet seemingly pushed aside by her aura.

Before she landed, her eyes were already locked on one direction—Liseria.

Liseria exclaimed, "Celian?...No. You—when?"

Medici's fingertips paused. Liseria's breathing was so light it was almost inaudible.

Si Ming turned his head to the side, as if casually stating, "From the first night I returned to the city, she was hidden in my lies."

She licked her canine teeth and laughed bloodthirstyly: "Your Highness, your acting was brilliant. I saw and remembered every single knife wound the double took."

She raised her hand, her fingers slightly parted, and a cold, serpentine shadow appeared in the night sky. "Now it's your turn. It will hurt, Jormungandr. Take good care of them for me."

Medici stared at Siming, first sneering, then throwing her head back and laughing loudly: "The Supreme Being? Lies? Siming—your performance was indeed brilliant. But don't forget, I also have a Supreme Being."

She clasped her hands together, her fingers interlocked, and her knuckles made a crisp sound.

The prayer was sung from her lips, short, each word like a knife tip slicing across the water:

"The Supreme One No. 7—the Holy Mother who gives birth to all beings. Please make me your vessel."

boom--

Blood erupted from her body, but did not dissipate, instantly condensing into a huge uterus, which rose and fell slowly with her as its heart.

The dense network of blood vessels on the uterine wall crawls like the veins of an entire city being drawn and connected.

The next second, the uterus ruptured, and blood gushed out, a torrential downpour of blood hanging upside down from the palace, engulfing the eaves and street corners of Areston.

She stepped out in the rain.

Blood wings unfurled behind her, the tips of the feathers a fresh, red hue.
She was still Medici, yet not—sacredness and blasphemy overlapped in the same body, her eyes were cold, and her lips remained still.

With each step she took, the splattered blood rain turned into a thin film that adhered to the paving stones, spreading further into the alleyways and squares.

The corpse and limbs wrapped in the membrane trembled slightly, rose from within, their bodies flushed, their eyes filled only with obedience.

The bells on the distant bell tower were muffled by the rain, their sound a notch lower; the candlelight in the church was completely dimmed by the rain, leaving only a faint glow.

Above the city, blood-red clouds gathered, like a giant red lung breathing slowly.

As Si Ming watched her appear, he tilted his head slightly, the smile lines on his clown mask appearing even deeper in the rain.

He flicked the playing card on the back of his finger, the scalpel flashing coldly, his tone as light as if he were stating something that had been predetermined:
"good."

He raised his eyes, his gaze piercing through the rain of blood and blood wings, settling back on the faces of the two queens:
“Then, our war—begins here.” He snapped his fingers together, and the threads of fate behind his shoulders tightened.

"Round Two."

The rain started again. It wasn't falling from above, but rather spraying outwards from behind her.

With each drop that falls to the ground, the film envelops a fallen body;
A moment later, the membrane trembled, and someone stood up from inside, their face a mix of red and white, their eyes filled with nothing but obedience.

Simultaneously, the threads of fate behind Siming's shoulder tightened. The white mask on the left raised a finger, straightening the vibrations in the air that were about to spread, like smoothing out wrinkled paper;

The yellow-clad figure on the right remained motionless, swallowing up the surrounding noise and irritation, leaving only the necessary vocalizations.

Liseria didn't raise her voice; she just hummed. It was like a deep, resonant string resonating in her chest, its vibrations spreading along the stone steps and walls.

Those listening first felt their eyes sting, then their shoulders and back tensed up—every movement slowed down by half an inch.

Si Ming's hand was stopped abruptly; Selian's step was a beat later than she had expected.

The white-masked man pressed his palm down, straightening the rhythm slightly; the man in yellow pushed the humming sound a step further away, as if blocking the dampness from entering through a crack in the door.

The blood membrane opposite them spread out even faster, pressing down layer by layer along the steps in front of the royal palace.

Selene raised her arm, her fingertips flashing, and blood swept across like a slanting rain. The first row of familiars who had just crawled out of the membrane were instantly cut down to pieces.

She took a step forward, sending pebbles flying, and aimed directly at Medusa.

*Snap*—A bloody feather exploded, blossoming into a flock of small bloody wings in front of her, like palm-sized red birds with teeth, filling her path.

Selene forcefully tore open a slit, and with a few short slashes, she sliced ​​the red bird into a bloody mist.

The blood mist landed, was absorbed by the membrane, and reassembled into two rudimentary forms behind her.

“This is my blessing,” Medici said, looking at her. “In my rain, the dead are merely unripe embryos.”

“In my song,” Liseria said, her voice turning cold, “all wills must slow down.”

Si Ming replied briefly, "Understood."

The thread of fate behind his shoulder trembled slightly, like an invisible net being stretched out; the yellow mask reflected even less light, and the insignificant things in his vision automatically retreated.

Several fine cracks appeared on the ground in front of the palace, but they closed up on their own during the clash.

The wind blew the embers askew, and the flames, pulled and tugged by the two forces, were extinguished in a flash, leaving only a steady glow.

Selene advances again—Bloodwing falls again.

She charged straight ahead, and red feathers fell back behind her like rain.
With each piece that landed, a bloody path was carved through the hall. Beside her, Jormungandr, the World-Devouring Serpent, opened its blood-red maw and plowed a deep trench in the ground.

Countless blood moons and their grieving kin fell into its mouth, the sounds of chewing incessant. Rotten blood and bits of flesh swirled like a bloody rain, only to be absorbed by the gigantic womb behind Medici.

Then, another group of blood-soaked and sorrowful relatives were reborn in the grace of the Virgin Mary.

The pressure in the air grew increasingly palpable. The white and yellow on either side stabilized the situation, while the blood and sorrow on the front continued to intensify the pressure.

The three forces clashed and clashed in front of the stone steps, forcing back the blood seeping from the cracks in the stone by an inch, only for it to gush out another half inch.

Medici turned her head to look at Siming, her blood wings spread out to their maximum size behind her, as if the red light of the city was gathered up by her alone.

“You’ve invited two people, so I won’t come empty-handed.” Her voice was low and steady. “From this moment on, this city will only live, never die.”

Liseria's eyelashes fell and then rose again, her sorrow deepening.

“Then, slow down,” she said.

The blood rain continued to fall, and the plastic film was spread wider and wider.

Selene was torn apart by a group of newly formed blood wings, her steps were slowed down; the fate threads behind Siming's shoulders were taut and curved, but a few strands were still bent out of shape by the mournful sound.

Liseria looked at him, her voice soft, yet like the back of a knife against bone: "You can keep calling for help. Shadows or clones, it doesn't matter. The essence of combat power remains the same. Two Star Calamities against one—you can't hold your own."

Medici turned her head to the side, her blood wings unfurling, and the entire red light dimmed once more: "Enough is enough, Siming. Don't make your own appearance too ugly."

Si Ming listened and suddenly laughed.

He laughed so hard he leaned forward, as if he were genuinely amused; at the end of his laughter, he wiped a bit of moisture from the corner of his eye with his knuckles, raised his head, and his voice beneath the mask lowered, filled with utter irony:
"Since when did you all start to think that you were facing a Fate Master who was 'above the Star Calamity'?"

He looked up and uttered a string of obscure, strange words to the night sky. It wasn't a prayer, nor did it resemble a spell; it was more like transmitting some extremely ancient celestial language back to heaven, one star at a time.

click -

The clouds seemed to have been pushed open by an inch by an external force.

The next second, the first meteorite appeared—not falling from the zenith, but floating in mid-air, trailing a pale blue fiery tail, as if it had been pulled from the far reaches of the void and set ablaze in this sky.

Then came the second, the third... hundreds and thousands, all lit up at the same height, their tail flames intertwined, blue to white, so bright they were blinding.

The air was burning and howling, and the shadows of the entire city fled in the same direction.

Boom! The first meteorite landed on the ruined tower on the side of the royal palace, lifting the entire tower before it was pressed down heavily, sending debris flying like a flock of black birds.

Then came the second, the third, boom—boom—with each impact, the ground felt like it was being pushed; the membrane was scorched through, the blood rain was evaporated into a fog wall in the high sky, and the red was squeezed out of the edges by the blue light.

Some meteorites exploded in mid-air before landing, the blue flames resembling an upside-down flower, from which finer white and blue fragments spewed out, like a rain of iron swooping down precisely towards the source of Bloodwing and Sorrowful Silk.

In the distance, the windows of the street all bent outwards, yet were held steady by the threads of fate, remaining unbroken.

The bell in the clock tower tilted an inch from the vibration, and the dim light of the yellow-clad figure enveloped it, suppressing the sound back to the center line.

The God of Fate stood with his arms outstretched in the center of the star shower.

The clown mask's smile lines seemed to come alive in the blue flames, and threads of fate spread out from behind him, draping over each falling star, as if marking the path for each fiery tail.

"I am the weaver of lies, Si Ming." His voice echoed alongside the sound of falling rocks, not loud, yet reverberating in every crevice. "And also the star whisperer—Si Ming."

The meteorites fell more and more densely, and the blue light tore the red rain into pieces; the entire sky seemed to have been altered by his words.

Medusa raised her wings and took the hit head-on, the tips of her feathers were burned and holes were formed, but they regenerated in the rain of blood in an instant.

Liseria's lips were pursed, and she sang a mournful song, slowing down the rhythm of her fall by a beat—but only by a beat, and then she didn't stop.

Si Ming tilted his head in the blue light, as if confirming that he had finished his lines. His shadow split into three on the ground, then merged back into one.

He nodded to the two queens:

"Now, let's begin the introduction for Act Three."

"I brought down the stars not to illuminate you, but only to let you see clearly whose words destiny resides in."

—From *The Star Whisperer's Sayings: Fragments of Destiny and the Starry Sea*

(End of this chapter)