Chapter 501 — Will I Truly Be Able To?

"He won’t be able to kill your parents."

The figure’s voice continued, each statement hitting like hammer blows.

"He won’t be able to arrange for your big brother to be tortured and murdered in that alley. He won’t be able to set up Nera’s fate, won’t be able to orchestrate everything that shaped you."

Damian’s legs weakened, threatening to give out beneath him.

"And you..."

The figure shifted again, the movement slight but somehow significant.

"You won’t be orphaned. You won’t have to eat rats just to survive another day. You won’t be forced to kill your first man at the age of nine for nothing more than a piece of bread."

His throat closed, breathing becoming difficult.

"You won’t become the Mafia Boss responsible for millions of deaths. You won’t carry the weight of every person who died on your orders, every life you ended personally and every soul you crushed to build your empire."

The voice became even quieter.

"Every tragedy you faced, every pain you suffered, every guilt you carry in both lives..." A pause. "All of it will be erased like it never even happened in the first place."

"That’s..."

Damian stepped backward, his boot sliding in the snow.

"That’s impossible! You can’t just–"

The figure stood there, its presence radiating patience and something else Damian couldn’t identify.

"Nothing is impossible when you understand the true nature of what binds this universe together."

The voice carried absolute conviction.

"I have the power to make it happen. I have the means to rewrite what was written in your life and to unmake what the Beggar made of you."

The figure’s presence seemed to expand, filling Damian’s entire field of vision despite not actually moving closer.

"So tell me, Damian..."

A pause that stretched into eternity.

"What do you choose?"

The question hung in the frozen air between them.

"Will you leave this game and finally have the peace that was stolen from you? Or will you stay and become Fate’s true enemy?"

Thump thump thump thump

Damian stood there, his heart slamming against his ribs so hard it hurt.

Snow continued falling between them, each flake landing in silence.

His mind pulled backward against his will, dragging him through memories that belonged to a different life, a different world and a different him.

He didn’t have any memories of his parents from his past life.

He’d been too young when they died, that’s all he knew for certain.

Everything else came secondhand: Elizabeth mentioning once that the Beggar had killed them, and now this figure confirming the same thing.

There were no details about how or when or why, just that single fact repeated twice.

But his Big Brother and Nera were different.

Those memories existed, fragmented and blurry from time and trauma, but real enough to hurt.

The time he’d spent with both of them had been short, but they had been the ones who shaped him into what he truly was.

His brother’s last words, that broken desperate command to get power, had planted the seed that grew into everything Alessio D’Rossi became.

’Now that I think about it, I never even knew his name.’

He looked up at the clouds drifting across the moon.

’For me, he was just my Big Brother. That’s all he ever needed to be.’

And Nera, his mother in all but name, had been the reason he became a Mafia Boss in the first place.

The concept of "Family" had been carved so deep into his mind because of her that he built an entire empire around it.

Years had gone by in two different lifetimes, and both of their memories had grown blurry around the edges.

But nothing could change the fundamental truth underneath all of it.

’I loved them.’

The thought came simple and absolute.

’Truly and deeply loved them.’

He had spent countless nights wishing he could undo what happened to them.

Wishing he was the one tortured by that fat man in the alley instead of his brother.

Wishing he had arrived just a few minutes earlier to save Nera from her fate.

’I even begged the Gods.’

Prayed to beings he didn’t believe in, offering anything and everything for a chance to change what had already happened.

And now he was getting the chance to have everything Alessio D’Rossi ever wanted.

But–

His head snapped toward the figure, hair whipping across his face.

"Why?"

The word came out raw, almost accusing.

"Why did you come here only now?" His voice rose, cracking slightly. "Why didn’t you just give me this choice before? Before I got tangled in all of this, before I–"

He stopped, breathing hard.

The figure remained silent for a long moment, black energy continuing its endless writhing.

Then the doubled voice emerged, quiet and patient.

"Is a choice truly a choice when you don’t even understand the consequences of making it?"

The question hung in the frozen air.

"If I had offered this to you the day you awakened your memories, more than a year ago..."

The figure shifted slightly.

"When you were completely under the influence of your past life, drowning in Alessio’s traumas and memories..."

A pause.

"When you had no idea about your birth family. When you didn’t even understand the sacrifices Mariana and Darius Bloodworth made so you could survive..."

The voice became gentler.

"Would you have understood what you were choosing then? Would you have grasped what staying or leaving actually meant?"

Silence crashed down between them as nobody spoke for several heartbeats.

Snow continued falling, gathering on both their shoulders.

Damian’s hair fell forward, shadowing his face as his head dropped.

’He’s right.’

The admission came bitter.

’A year ago, when those memories first hit me, I wasn’t myself for a long time. Even now I’m still heavily influenced by them.’

His hands trembled at his sides.

’I don’t even know what choice I would have made back then. Maybe I would have said yes immediately. Maybe I would have refused. Maybe...’

The thought trailed off, unfinished and uncertain.

He stood there in the falling snow, the question hanging unanswered in his mind.

Minutes passed, or maybe just seconds.

Time felt strange, stretched thin by the weight of everything pressing down.

Then suddenly, he looked up at the figure, crimson eyes finding that void-like presence through the falling snow.

"And if I choose to go back... if I choose my peace over everything else..."

His hands shook at his sides.

"What happens to this world? Will it follow the same path as the one described in the novel?"

The figure didn’t hesitate.

"Indeed."

The single word carried absolute certainty.

"The nightmares the Beggar warned you about will unfold exactly as they were meant to."

The doubled voice remained steady, patient.

"The first nightmare will arrive soon. Once Khra’gath succeeds in breaking through to S rank, he and the Demigods of fourteen tribes will begin their invasion of the northern regions."

The doubled voice became quieter.

"Without someone to stop him, he’ll succeed and the north will fall. Then the giants will push south, consuming territory after territory."

Snow fell heavier between them.

"Demons will open more portals in major population centers. More corruption will spread through the ranks of those meant to protect."

The figure’s presence seemed to grow heavier.

"One nightmare after another, exactly as the novel described. Each one worse than the last, until..."

A pause, letting the words sink in.

"When the final doom arrives, humanity will face complete extinction."

The voice dropped to barely above a whisper.

"Everyone you’ve met, everyone you’ve saved, everyone who exists in this world right now..."

Another pause.

"All of them will face the future that was written for this world."

Damian’s breathing became shallower.

His nails cut deeper into his palms, blood dripping onto the snow at his feet.

’Mom and Dad...’

The thought came with cold certainty.

’They’ll either die in that Hell Portal, or they’ll make it out only to face the invasion and fall with everyone else.’

His throat tightened.

’Luna... will watch humanity crumble around her. Watch everyone she knows die one by one until the nightmares finally reach her too.’

His chest felt like it was being crushed.

’Edrin, Zavier, Lysa, Ronan, Ariana, Alessio... all of them. Old Mike and the other Mafia members. The unnamed four and the orphans... Agatha and Lily.’

Blood dripped faster from his clenched fists.

’Everyone.’

"If you’re truly so powerful, then why can’t you just change this world’s end?"

His voice came out strained, almost desperate.

The figure remained still for a long moment, then the doubled voice emerged.

"Some things cannot be changed by those who already know how the story ends."

A pause, heavy with meaning.

"The choices that follow from now on, must be made by the one living through them, without knowing the outcome. That’s the only way it holds weight against Fate itself."

Damian stood there, his hair covering his face, blood dripping from his clenched fists onto the snow.

Nobody spoke for a long moment, the weight of something unspoken settling between them like a physical presence.

Then he took a deep breath and sat down in the snow, legs crossing beneath him, his body settling into the cold.

The figure remained standing and waiting.

"If I become the Beggar’s last piece against Fate..."

Damian’s voice came out quieter now, more controlled despite the tremor underneath.

"Will I truly be able to save this world?"

He paused, blood from his palms staining the snow beneath.

"Will I truly be able to change what’s already been written?"

The question hung in the frozen air, unanswered.

Snow continued falling on two figures in the darkness outside the Northern Military Training Center’s gates.

And somewhere across the universe, every seer whose eyes could glimpse the threads of fate felt them trembling, shifting and rearranging themselves around a single choice that hadn’t been made yet.

A choice that would determine whether humanity survived or fell.

Whether the nightmares would unfold as written or be rewritten entirely.

Whether Damian would save everyone he loved or abandon them all for the peace he’d never had.