Kevin left the Seat of Divine Foresight with no particular destination in mind.
The meeting with Jing Yuan was done. The deal was made or refused. Either way, it was out of his hands now.
The others would be starting their search for Kafka. Following leads. Investigating. Doing what they did best.
Kevin had his own path to walk.
The first thing he noticed after leaving the administrative district was the noise.
Not the organized, professional sounds of the Sky-Faring Commission headquarters. This was different. Messier. More alive.
Voices overlapping in a dozen conversations. Children laughing somewhere nearby. The distant clang of metal on metal a forge, maybe, or a workshop. The creak of wooden signs swaying in the artificial breeze.
Kevin walked deeper into the residential sectors, away from the polished grandeur of Starskiff Haven.
The architecture changed. Buildings stacked vertically, connected by narrow bridges and staircases that zigzagged between levels. Laundry hung from windows shirts and sheets fluttering like flags. Potted plants lined balconies, green and alive despite being inside a spaceship.
He passed an elderly woman watering flowers on her balcony. She glanced down at him, nodded once, and went back to her task.
Normal. Mundane.
Kevin kept walking.
The street opened into a small courtyard where children played. Five or six of them, ranging from maybe six to ten years old. They'd drawn a grid on the ground with chalk and were hopping between squares, laughing when someone missed and had to start over.
One of them a boy with fox ears noticed Kevin watching and waved.
Kevin hesitated, then raised a hand in return.
The boy grinned and went back to his game.
Life continuing.
That's what struck Kevin most. Despite the lockdown, despite the mara-struck outbreak, despite the Stellaron crisis looming over everything life continued.
People still watered their plants. Children still played. The world kept turning.
He'd seen civilizations fall. Watched his own world die.
But this... this was different.
This was stubborn refusal to let fear dictate everything.
Kevin turned down another street, this one narrower. Vendors had set up stalls along both sides, calling out to passersby.
"Fresh vegetables! Grown in the hydroponics bay this morning!"
"Jade tokens! Good luck charms blessed by the temple!"
"Dumplings! Three for ten credits!"
The smell of cooking food drifted from somewhere ahead. Kevin's stomach reminded him he hadn't eaten since leaving the Express.
He followed the scent.
The restaurant was small. Maybe six tables outside under hanging paper lanterns, the kind that swayed gently even though the "wind" was artificial and carefully controlled.
Kevin sat down at an empty table near the edge.
The street continued past him people walking, talking, going about their day. An elderly couple strolled by, hand in hand, moving slowly but steady. A Cloud Knight hurried past in the opposite direction, armor clanking.
A woman approached Kevin's table. Middle-aged, foxian, with kind eyes and gray streaks in her dark hair. She placed a menu in front of him, speaking in the local dialect.
Kevin didn't understand the specific words, but somehow the meaning came through. The universal language of "what do you want to eat?"
He pointed at something that looked like noodles in the picture.
She nodded, said something else he didn't catch, and disappeared through a doorway into what must be the kitchen.
Kevin waited.
At the table next to him, a family was eating. Mother, father, two kids. The youngest maybe four years old was making a mess with his soup, getting it everywhere except his mouth. His older sister kept trying to help, which only made it worse. The parents were laughing.
The father caught Kevin looking and smiled apologetically. "Sorry. He's still learning."
Kevin shook his head slightly. "It's fine."
The man nodded and turned back to his children.
Families. Normal families.
When was the last time Kevin had seen something like this? Not on Aionios. Not during the war. Not while wandering the void alone for centuries.
Maybe... maybe never.
The food arrived. A large bowl of noodles in dark, rich broth. Sliced meat on top. Vegetables he couldn't name but looked fresh. Steam rose from the surface, carrying the smell of soy and something else ginger, maybe? Garlic?
And beside the bowl: chopsticks.
Kevin stared at them.
He'd watched Welt use chopsticks dozens of times on the Express. In his previous life, he'd seen characters use them in cutscenes. He knew the theory.
But actually doing it...
He picked them up. The wood was smooth, worn from use. He tried to position them the way he'd seen others do one resting on his ring finger, the other held between thumb and forefinger.
They felt wrong. Awkward.
He lowered them toward the bowl, trying to pinch a bundle of noodles.
The noodles slipped through. Fell back into the broth with a small splash.
He tried again. Same result.
Movement in his peripheral vision. The foxian woman had returned, standing beside his table with that same kind expression.
She didn't say anything. Just reached down, gently adjusted his fingers on the chopsticks showing him how to hold them properly and stepped back.
Kevin nodded his thanks.
She said something that might have been "you'll get it" and returned to the kitchen.
Kevin tried again with the corrected grip.
This time, he managed to lift a small portion of noodles. They wobbled dangerously but stayed between the sticks long enough to reach his mouth.
When in Rome, do as the Romans do.
The phrase drifted through his mind. He wasn't sure where he'd heard it. His old life, probably. Some saying about adapting to new places.
The noodles were good. Really good. The broth had layers savory, slightly sweet, with a hint of something sharp that made his tongue tingle. The meat was tender, practically melting. The vegetables added texture and freshness.
He ate slowly, focusing on the chopsticks. Each attempt was a little less clumsy than the last.
By the time he finished, his technique was still far from perfect. But functional.
The woman returned to clear his bowl. She said something and smiled.
Kevin didn't understand the words, but he understood the meaning: You did well.
He paid leaving more credits than necessary and left.
The afternoon sun (artificial but convincing) slanted lower as Kevin continued wandering.
He found a park. Small, tucked between buildings, with carefully maintained trees and a pond with actual fish swimming in it. How they managed that on a spaceship, Kevin didn't know. Engineering. Hydration systems. The Xianzhou had been sailing for eight thousand years they'd figured out how to maintain ecosystems.
A group of elderly residents occupied one corner of the park, moving through sword forms in perfect synchronization.
Kevin stopped to watch.
Their movements were slow. Deliberate. Not the aggressive, efficient strikes of soldiers in battle, but something else. Meditative. Each motion flowing into the next like water.
One of them an old man with a long white beard noticed Kevin watching. He didn't stop. Just continued his forms, but his eyes met Kevin's for a brief moment.
A nod of acknowledgment.
Kevin nodded back.
He watched for a few more minutes, then continued walking.
Down another street. Past a school where children's voices drifted through open windows—a teacher explaining something, students responding in unison.
Past a temple where incense smoke curled upward from offerings left at the entrance. People knelt inside, heads bowed in prayer.
Past a workshop where an older craftsman hammered metal into shape, each strike ringing out in a steady rhythm.
Life. Everywhere. Continuing.
Kevin had carried death for so long. The weight of Aionios's fall. The souls trapped in his rings. The endless, meaningless battles.
But here...
Here was life that refused to stop.
Even in the face of crisis. Even with mara-struck attacking. Even with a Stellaron threatening everything.
People still prayed. Still worked. Still taught their children. Still practiced their sword forms in parks.
Stubborn. Persistent. Human.
Kevin felt something in his chest. Not quite warmth. Not quite hope.
But something.
He turned a corner and heard a voice young, exasperated, slightly bossy.
"Hold still! I'm trying to heal you, not redecorate your arm!"
Kevin paused.
A small crowd had gathered in a plaza ahead. At the center was a makeshift medical station a simple table, supplies laid out, a line of injured people waiting their turn.
And standing at the center of it all was a young girl.
Very young. Maybe ten or eleven years old at most.
She had light purple hair pulled into two long braids that reached past her knees, with bangs that almost covered her eyes. Mint green and yellow eyes heterochromatic focused intently on the patient before her. Small white and purple horns protruded from her forehead, and Kevin caught a glimpse of a long purple tail with a tuft of fur at the end swishing behind her.
A Vidyadhara. One of the Long-lived species descendedl.
She wore a sleeveless black turtleneck dress beneath a white and light indigo jacket with long coattails. A brown gourd hung at her hip, tied with red ribbon.
Her hands glowed with soft green light as she held them over a Cloud Knight's injured arm. The wound was closing flesh knitting back together, blood stopping, skin sealing.
"There!" she announced proudly, pulling her hands back. "Good as new. Try not to get stabbed again, okay? I'm busy enough as it is without you making it worse."
The Cloud Knight bowed deeply. "Thank you, Lady Bailu."
Bailu.
Kevin watched from the edge of the crowd.
She waved the soldier off dismissively and immediately turned to the next patient—a civilian with burns on their hands. "Alright, next! Let's see... oh, that looks painful. What did you do, grab a hot wok barehanded?"
"I... yes, actually."
"Well, that was dumb." She grabbed their hands without hesitation. "Hold still."
Green light flared again.
Kevin felt a faint smile tug at his lips.
There was something almost endearing about it. A child or someone who looked like a child playing doctor with the skill and authority of someone far older.
Which, given the Vidyadhara's reincarnation cycle, she probably was.
"You're being too rough!" a man in the line complained.
Bailu's eyes snapped toward him. "You want healing or not? Because I can skip you and let that leg infection spread. Your choice."
The man shut up immediately.
Kevin's smile grew slightly.
Direct. Blunt. Efficient.
She reminded him a bit of Stelle, actually. That same no-nonsense energy.
Bailu finished with the burn patient and moved to the next. Then the next. Working through the line with surprising speed and precision.
Kevin watched for a few more moments, then turned to leave.
He had his own things to handle.
The afternoon stretched into evening as Kevin continued his wandering.
He found himself in quieter areas. Back alleys. Side streets where fewer people traveled.
And that's when he felt it.
A presence. Two of them.
Following him.
Not close. Not obvious. But there.
Kevin's expression didn't change. He kept walking, hands still in his pockets, pace unhurried.
But his awareness sharpened.
He turned down a side street. Then another. Moving away from the main thoroughfares, toward the emptier sections of the district.
Finally, he stepped into a narrow alley dark, shadowed, enclosed on three sides.
He stopped.
Waited.
Then spoke without turning around.
"Have you had enough of following me around?"
Footsteps echoed behind him. Slow. Deliberate. No attempt to hide anymore.
Kevin turned.
Two figures emerged from the shadows at the alley's entrance.
The first was a woman. Tall, elegant, with wine-colored hair that fell past her shoulders. Sharp magenta eyes that seemed to see through everything. She wore a long white coat over a black outfit, moving with the easy grace of someone completely at ease with themselves.
A slight smile played on her lips.
The second was a man. Tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair and burning red eyes that stared at nothing and everything. Bandages wrapped his arms and torso, visible beneath his tattered coat. His hand rested near the hilt of a broken sword at his waist.
His expression was distant. Empty. But dangerous.
Kafka and Blade.
Stellaron Hunters.
Kevin's gray eyes met Kafka's magenta ones without flinching.
"Aren't you two supposed to have a plot to follow?"
Kafka's smile widened. Genuine amusement flickered across her face, but there was something else there too recognition.
"Elio was right," she said softly, almost to herself. "You do know the script. How interesting."
Her magenta eyes gleamed as she focused fully on him. "It seems you know quite a lot, Kevin Eventide Aionios."
"Enough."
She tilted her head, studying him like a cat examining something new and interesting. "You're an interesting anomaly, Kevin Eventide Aionios."
Kevin said nothing. Just waited.
"Elio had quite the headache trying to account for you," Kafka continued, her tone light and conversational. She took a step closer, hands clasped behind her back. "Though, I'll admit, it was entertaining to watch. Even geniuses have their limits, you know. He's still our boss, of course."
Kevin's expression remained neutral. "And?"
"And," Kafka's smile turned sharper, more genuine, "luckily for everyone involved, Elio finally managed to write you into the script."
Kevin's heart skipped.
Just once. A brief hitch he immediately suppressed.
But Kafka noticed. Her eyes gleamed.
Wrote me into the script.
Kevin's mind raced even as his face remained calm.
In his previous life, he'd consumed countless stories. Isekai novels. Reincarnation tales. Transmigration plots.
The protagonist was always outside fate. Free from destiny. Able to change things because they weren't bound by the world's predetermined path.
Kevin had never thought of himself as a protagonist. That was ridiculous.
But he had thought he'd be the same outside the script, unpredictable simply because he wasn't originally from this world. Because he'd been reincarnated here from another reality entirely.
An outsider. An error in the system.
But if Elio could write him in...
If his actions could be predicted, his choices foreseen...
Then I was never outside the script at all.
Kafka watched his expression carefully, reading the micro movements most people would miss. Her smile softened, almost sympathetic.
"Everyone born has a fate, Kevin." Her voice was quieter now. Almost gentle. "Yours was just... covered. Hidden beneath the gaze of that Aeon you serve."
IX.
The Aeon of Nihility.
Of course.
Meaninglessness personified. The denial of purpose. The erasure of significance.
If Kevin was an Emanator of Nihility, then his very existence was wrapped in that concept. His fate obscured not erased, just hidden like trying to read text through layers of shadow.
But Elio had pierced through it.
Eventually.
Kevin's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly before he forced himself to relax. "Okay. And now what do you want from me?"
Kafka's smile remained, but her magenta eyes grew sharper. More focused. "Elio hasn't noticed any breaks in the script he wrote. Everything is proceeding as predicted. Every choice. Every action."
She paused, letting that sink in.
"But he still felt it necessary to send us on this... tedious errand."
She stepped closer. Close enough that Kevin could see the faint amusement dancing in her eyes.
"He hopes," she said softly, "that you won't try to rewrite the script."
The words hung in the air between them.
Kevin looked at her. Then at Blade, who still hadn't spoken, whose red eyes burned with that same distant, terrible intensity.
Don't rewrite the script.
In other words: Don't interfere. Don't change things. Let events unfold as Elio has foreseen them.
Kevin's hands, buried in his pockets, curled into fists.
The script.
The path he'd been carefully avoiding. The story he remembered from his previous life.
Dan Heng confronting his past. The truth about his former incarnation. Jing Yuan's schemes. Phantylia's emergence. The Stellaron's origin.
He'd stayed out of it deliberately. Let the crew handle things themselves. Because he'd thought his interference would break something fundamental.
But now Kafka was telling him Elio had already accounted for him.
Had predicted his choice to stay out of it.
Had written that choice into the script.
Which meant...
Everything I've been doing was already foreseen. My decision to let them handle it was part of the plan all along.
The realization settled over him like ice water.
He wasn't outside fate.
He'd never been.
Just another piece on the board. Another variable in Elio's grand design, hidden beneath Nihility's veil until the Slave of Fate had finally figured him out.
Kevin's gray eyes locked onto Kafka's magenta ones.
"And if I do rewrite it?"
Kafka's smile didn't waver. "Then we'll see if Elio's predictions hold." She tilted her head slightly. "Though I wouldn't recommend testing him. He's rarely wrong."
She took a step back, crossing her arms. "Consider it friendly advice. From one anomaly to another."
Blade finally spoke, his voice rough and low like gravel scraping stone.
"Amphoreus."
Just one word. But the weight of it hit like a hammer.
Kevin's gaze shifted to him sharply.
Blade's red eyes burned into his, unflinching. "The script gives you a path to it."
He said nothing more.
The implication was clear enough.
He knows.
Of course he did.
If Elio could see Kevin's fate, he could see Kevin's goals too. His desires. His selfishness.
The plan to save Amphoreus. To transfer the souls into its data during the rebirth. To see Mei again.
All of it laid bare before the Slave of Fate's all-seeing gaze.
Kafka's smile returned, softer now. Almost understanding. "So, Kevin. Will you let the script play out? Or will you try to be the hero and risk everything you're fighting for?"
Kevin was silent for a long moment.
His mind turned over the possibilities. The implications.
If I follow the script, Amphoreus survives. The souls get their future. Mei's promise comes true.
But if I deviate...
If I try to change things...
Elio's predictions might fail. The script might break. And everything I want could fall apart.
Finally, Kevin spoke, his voice calm and cold.
"I'll do what I need to do."
Kafka's smile widened with genuine delight. "How delightfully vague."
She turned, gesturing for Blade to follow. "We'll be watching, Kevin. Do try to make it interesting."
Blade stared at him for one more moment red eyes meeting gray before turning and disappearing into the shadows after Kafka.
Their presence faded.
Kevin stood alone in the alley, staring at the space where they'd been.
The script.
Elio's design.
Fate itself.
His hands unclenched slowly.
Fine.
If I'm part of the script, then I'll play my part.
I'll let the crew handle their story. Let Dan Heng face his past. Let the truth unfold as it's meant to.
But...
His rings pulsed softly in the darkness.
If the script tries to take away what I'm fighting for... if it threatens Amphoreus, threatens the souls, threatens the promise I made
Then I'll tear every page to shreds and write it myself.
Elio's predictions be damned.
Kevin turned and walked out of the alley, his footsteps echoing in the silence.
The script would play out.
For now.
But if it failed him...
If it took away his one selfish wish...
Then he'd show them what a Nihility Emanator could really do when pushed to the edge.