The Oracle Paths

Chapter 1232: Who Really Holds the Roots

A few minutes earlier, another Jake—visibly bored—was gliding through the sky toward Lustris. The luminous crown of Anthace’s canopy acted as a beacon, a monstrous lighthouse looming over the undisputed capital of the Lustra Plains.

It was only his second visit to the White City, yet its appearance—and the grand, almost serene atmosphere that once wrapped around it—had shifted so drastically in just a few days that, for a split second, he wondered if he’d come to the wrong place.

Despite his eidetic memory, he had to scan his surroundings more than once before confirming, with a complicated knot of emotion, that this was indeed the right destination.

Nyx, Eris, and the others had already warned him about the underground creatures infused with Black Lumyst that had surfaced out of nowhere. Still, seeing them in person was something else entirely. Their vile, grotesque auras screamed hunger—an all-consuming urge to devour and erase everything in their path. The sensation was disturbingly familiar... and yet unmistakably different.

At the very least, he could confirm one thing for now: the things swarming across his field of vision weren’t Digestors. Given the apocalyptic state of affairs, that alone felt oddly reassuring.

”Guess I made it,” Jake muttered under his breath, like someone who’d just survived an endless pilgrimage.

In truth, those ”hundreds of millions of kilometers” had amounted to nothing more than a handful of lazy teleportations. He’d only bothered flying for the last few kilometers—once the city was close enough for him to watch it die with his own eyes.

He hadn’t even crossed the city’s outer perimeter yet when a crooked, knowing grin tugged at his lips.

No surprise. They’re all already here.

Jake swept the area with a glance where contempt was only barely restrained.

How could he not notice the King’s Idol Alliance, neatly arrayed and hidden just outside the city?How could he not feel the presence of the three Oracle Knights, perched atop a colossal branch at the very crown of the Titan Tree Anthace?

They all believed they were in control—convinced they had the situation locked down with an iron grip and an inflated sense of superiority.And yet—from above, from his vantage point—their little scheme was almost insultingly transparent.

They thought their hostility was buried under layers of careful calculations and elaborate maneuvers. But Jake could feel their eyes fixed on him—hungry, taut—like starving wolves finally spotting the plump doe they’d fantasized about all winter.

Too bad for them.The lamb they thought they were hunting had teeth—and a taste for meat.

At no point did Jake consider exposing their positions to force their hand. For now, those clowns had little to no impact on his objective—whether they attacked or not.

At least... not yet.

Because the instant his body drifted across Lustris’s boundary, an aura of blinding white slammed into him, packed with an overwhelming pressure that hit like a thunderclap.

He reacted on instinct.

Only a fraction of his own aura slipped free, but the blue-black hues of his Cosmic Lumyst detonated through the air with even greater lethality. Space itself groaned as two silent wills collided head-on.

This was the clash that Cho Min Ho and his men had witnessed with horror.

A middle-aged man with a weathered face, dressed in nothing more than a plain gray tunic, appeared before him—descending slowly from the sky as if gravity itself answered to him.

At that exact moment, Jake and the Celestial finally met each other’s gaze.

And without the slightest hesitation, they recognized one another.

”The Celestial...”

”The foreigner who caused a massacre among my Lifemancers and troops,” the man replied calmly, ”nearly dismantling the Life Lumyst network I had established—forcing me to intervene.”

Jake broke into a wide, almost predatory grin.

His interference had indeed led to an uncountable number of deaths among the forces of the Lustra Plains—and he felt not the faintest trace of remorse. If he were still capable of guilt after five Ordeals, he would’ve killed himself long ago, crushed under the weight of it.

If the Ordeals had caused one irreversible change, it was this:the inevitability with which they forced survivors to blur—then erase—their personal boundaries between right and wrong.

Before Jake could respond, the Celestial’s expression turned pensive. His gray eyes drifted for a brief moment, and he murmured—more to himself than to Jake,

”No... You do look exactly like the Jake I was told about. And yet, the aura I sense on you is... familiar. Too familiar.”

His eyes narrowed.

”And if I trust the latest reports from my men, you should be elsewhere. On the central battlefield.”

A tense silence stretched between them.

”So... where does the truth lie?”

Jake had no intention of answering questions like that.

His smile didn’t waver. He merely shrugged, the casualness bordering on outright disrespect.

”Does it really matter?”

He tilted his head slightly, icy light flickering in his eyes.

”Whether I’m the real Jake... or something else entirely—tell me this: does the Lumyst coming off me feel fake?”

A heavy silence followed.

”In the end, that’s all that matters.”

The Celestial remained quiet for a long moment, his face perfectly unreadable. His gaze stayed locked on Jake, as if trying to force several incompatible truths into alignment. Then, after a slow exhale—an almost imperceptible internal shift—something changed. The confusion faded, replaced by a clean, resigned calm.

He spoke in an even tone.

”No... I believe I finally understand what you are.”

His eyes narrowed slightly.

”In a sense, you are Jake. Perhaps you truly are him—and the Jake fighting on the other battlefield is what I’ve mistakenly conflated with you. This familiar aura you carry... I now know exactly what it is.”

The undisputed leader of the Radiant Conclave and the Lustra Plains paused, weighing the gravity of his words. If his assumption was correct, it raised countless new questions. Paradoxically, it also strengthened his resolve regarding the decision he was about to make.

”The object at the origin of that aura,” he continued gravely, ”is something I have searched for a very long time. In many ways, this ridiculous total war is the result of that search. And, ironically... the fact that it ended up in your possession is the best news I’ve heard in ages.”

Jake’s provocative grin finally stiffened. This conversation was veering far from anything he’d prepared himself for. Honestly, he’d been gearing up for a good old-fashioned brawl.

Of course, it didn’t take a genius to guess what—or rather, who—the Celestial was referring to.

Claire. The Chalice of Nethershade, or rather the Artifact Spirit of the original Lumyst Chalice.

As if to confirm his suspicion, the man continued, a barely perceptible spark of excitement— hope?—flashing in his eyes.

”If I take into account the nature of that aura... your presence here... and the precise resonance I feel emanating from you...”

At last, certainty settled into his gaze.

”Then there’s no doubt. You’ve earned her support.”

Jake chose silence, refusing to give him so much as a nod. The old sage clearly had a heavy pack of truths he’d been carrying.

”On one point, you’re right,” the Celestial said, inclining his head slightly—neither hostile nor submissive. ”Your power is real. Whether you are the true Jake... or something else entirely is ultimately irrelevant.”

His gaze sharpened.

”That blue-black Lumyst of yours—I’ve never encountered anything like it. It’s... fascinating. On the surface, the aura you’re emitting right now barely rivals my own. It feels like level two, maybe three. And yet, its density and intensity are beyond anything a native of this world could produce.”

He paused.

”Despite how overwhelming it feels, it’s still low-level. As a Player, you should be oppressed by Twyluxia’s laws. And yet... you aren’t.”

He continued, his voice lower.

”Other natives may be ignorant of the World Spirit’s existence—but at my level of cultivation, how could I not sense such an entity? The ground beneath my feet, the sun by day, the moon by night—I constantly feel their diffuse yet vigilant attention, as if I’m being watched.”

His expression darkened.

”But recently... those ’eyes’ vanished. That disappearance was only the latest in a long chain of coincidences, reports, anomalies, and discoveries over the past few decades—events that pushed me to secretly investigate the truth.”

At that moment, the Celestial’s radiant, vitality-filled aura—still wrapped around Jake like a blinding straitjacket—grew denser, firmer. Not to attack, but to block interference... to ensure that what followed wouldn’t reach unwanted ears.

With a solemnity Jake couldn’t simply brush aside, the leader of the Radiant Conclave—the strongest warrior on the continent—exhaled a sound close to relief, as if shedding an unbearable burden.

”The former Celestials, myself included... the Radiant Conclave as a whole—we’re nothing more than figureheads. Puppets.”

”As you and several other foreigners have already suspected, the one who truly rules this continent—who makes every decision shaping its fate—is the Titan Tree, Anthace.”

Instead of the shock he seemed to expect, Jake casually dug a finger into his ear and grunted,

”That’s it?”

If the continent hadn’t been literally burning under the emergence of countless underground abominations, it might’ve moved him. Unfortunately, a simple mental scan of the ground was all it took for any halfway competent Player to realize the tree’s roots were acting like a high-speed rail system.

Whether the Celestial was a puppet, innocent, or even an ally didn’t matter. In the end, he was still the one who had chosen to obey Anthace.

Thankfully, the man had enough self-awareness to realize that revelation alone wasn’t nearly enough to earn Jake’s trust. He took another short breath, then spoke with renewed seriousness.

”I can help you restore the Chalice of Lumyst.”