Villainess X Villain: They are obsessed with each other!

Chapter 228: Chapter: 227 The meaning of life.[1]

In the ancient world, the Three Floating Continents and the Four Stationary Continents did not exist as they do today.

Long before history became legend, all seven continents rested upon the surface of the world, separated only by an endless sea that stretched beyond the horizon.

Ships crossed those waters, kingdoms rose and fell upon distant shores, and humanity spread across every corner of the land.

Back then, there were no Zlycons. There were only humans.

And gods.

Not one or two gods, but hundreds of them. Their names were spoken in every city and carved into every temple.

Yet among those countless divine beings, five stood above all others. Fate, Destiny, Time, Space, and Destruction.

The influence of these five gods reached every continent. Their followers built magnificent temples, raised armies in their names, and devoted entire generations to serving them.

Humanity gradually divided itself into great religious factions according to the gods they worshipped.

Among them, the followers of Fate possessed the greatest influence.

Temples dedicated to Fate stood in nearly every major city. Kings sought the blessings of Fate’s priests before making decisions, while nobles competed for the favor of the church.

As their influence expanded, the followers of Fate began suppressing rival faiths.

Temples dedicated to other gods found themselves restricted, their influence reduced whenever it threatened the dominance of Fate’s church.

It was during this age that a child was born.

His father was one of the highest-ranking priests within the Church of Fate, a man respected across multiple continents for his devotion and wisdom.

When the priest learned that he had been blessed with a son, joy filled his heart. He immediately began preparing the boy to inherit his position one day.

From a young age, the child was taught the scriptures of Fate. He learned prayers before he learned history.

He memorized sacred teachings before he understood politics. Every day was spent studying the words of the church so that he might eventually guide others along the same path.

The first lesson his father taught him was one that every devotee of Fate knew by heart.

”Our past, our present, and our future have already been determined.”

The priest’s voice had been calm and absolute as he spoke those words.

”No matter what we do, we cannot escape Fate. Those who attempt to do so are heretics. They are enemies of both humanity and the gods. There is no place for them among the living, nor among the dead. Neither heaven nor hell shall welcome them.”

The boy had listened quietly. At the time, he was only twelve years old. Yet those words rooted themselves deeply within his mind.

That night, while the temple slept beneath the glow of moonlight, he remained awake in his room staring at the ceiling.

Question after question appeared in his thoughts.

If everything was already predetermined, then what was the purpose of living?

If every choice had already been decided, what meaning did those choices have?

Why had the gods created humanity at all?

What purpose did worship serve if every prayer, every action, and every future had already been written beforehand?

The questions refused to leave him.

Days became weeks, and weeks became months. Rather than accepting the answers given to him, the boy secretly searched for his own.

He spoke to scholars who had dedicated their lives to knowledge. He visited priests from distant temples. He listened to monks who had abandoned worldly desires in pursuit of wisdom.

Every time, he asked the same question.

And every time, he received the same answer wrapped in different words.

One elderly scholar smiled as he sat surrounded by countless books.

”Life is like a completed book,” he explained. ”The story has already been written from beginning to end. We merely read the pages one by one until we reach the final Chapter.”

The boy thanked him politely and left. Yet as he walked home, he found no comfort in the answer.

A book that had already ended could still be interesting to read.

But if one’s entire life had already been decided before birth, where was the meaning in struggle? Where was the meaning in hope?

On another occasion, he asked a priest from a neighboring city.

The priest rested a hand on his shoulder and smiled warmly.

”Life is a gift granted by the gods,” he said. ”It is an opportunity to worship them and fulfill the purpose they have prepared for us. You will worship them as well, won’t you?”

The boy nodded as custom demanded.

Yet even as he did, the questions inside him only grew larger.

If the purpose of life was worship, then why had the gods desired worship in the first place? What’s the reason for worship when they are almighty?

And if humanity truly possessed no freedom to choose, then could worship even be called devotion at all?

Those questions continued to haunt him.

One after another, they surfaced within his mind no matter how much he tried to focus on his studies. Every answer he received only seemed to create even more questions.

Then one day, he witnessed something that he could never forget.

A crowd had gathered in the city square.

Curious, the boy followed the people until he reached the center.

There, hanging from a wooden platform for all to see, was a young woman.

The rope around her neck swayed gently in the wind.

The crowd watched quietly. Some looked indifferent. Some looked sympathetic. Others simply accepted it as another ordinary execution.

The boy stood frozen. He had heard of criminals being executed before, but this was the first time he had witnessed it with his own eyes.

”What crime did she commit?” he asked someone nearby.

The answer left him speechless. The woman had been assaulted by a priest devoted to the God of Mischief.

Rather than remaining silent, she had demanded justice.

She had demanded punishment. She had demanded that the man who violated her be held accountable for his actions.

Yet the priest she accused belonged to a powerful temple.

Punishing a devoted servant of a god was considered blasphemy.

Questioning him was considered heresy.

And so, instead of the assaulter being punished, the victim was.

The official verdict had already spread throughout the city.

It was Fate that she had been assaulted.

It was Fate that she had suffered. It was Fate that she had been sentenced.

After all, not even a falling leaf moved without the will of the gods.

The crowd accepted it, the priests accepted it, the judges accepted it, the executioners accepted it.

Only the boy could not.

As he stared at the lifeless body swaying in the wind, a question slowly surfaced within his heart.

Was this also predetermined? Did the gods truly will this?

If everything was predetermined, then had the gods desired this woman’s suffering from the moment she was born?

The question disturbed him far more than any answer he had heard before. From that day onward, his search became even more desperate.

He traveled farther. He questioned more people.

He sought answers from every source of wisdom he could find.

Eventually, he met an old monk living in a secluded temple hidden among the mountains.

The monk welcomed him warmly and patiently listened to all of his questions.

After hours of discussion, the boy finally asked the question that had troubled him for years.

”What is the meaning of life?”

The monk smiled. Unlike the others, he did not answer immediately. Instead, he poured two cups of tea before speaking.

”In life,” the monk said calmly, ”there is only one thing that can truly be called the meaning of life.”

The boy listened carefully.

”Detachment.” The monk’s gaze remained peaceful.

”Detachment from worldly desires. Detachment from greed, fear, ambition, anger, and attachment. Once a person frees themselves from these chains, they may achieve wisdom.”

The old monk lifted his cup.

”Life burdens people with endless responsibilities and suffering. Through detachment, one escapes those burdens. Through devotion to this path, one may attain salvation and eventually escape the cycle of reincarnation itself.”

The boy thanked him, then he left.

At first glance, the answer seemed no different from the countless others he had already received.

Yet unlike before, he found himself contemplating the monk’s words for years.

Three years passed, three years of studying, three years of questioning, three years of observing humanity.

And eventually, when he reached the age of fifteen and prepared to officially become a priest, understanding finally came to him.

The monk had been right and wrong.

The meaning of life was not detachment, the meaning of life was not worship, the meaning of life was not knowledge, the meaning of life was not predetermined.

The truth was far simpler. Every person searched for their own meaning.

Some found meaning in family, some found meaning in power, some found meaning in knowledge, some found meaning in faith.

Others spent their entire lives following meanings that had been handed to them by someone else.

As he observed the world around him, he gradually began to understand something else.

Most people did not worship the gods because they loved them. They worshipped because they were afraid.

Afraid of punishment, afraid of suffering, afraid of death, afraid of what awaited them afterward.

The temples promised heaven to the faithful and hell to the disobedient.

And so people obeyed, they prayed, they donated, they worshipped like sheeps in a yard.

It wasn’t because they had discovered truth, but because they feared the consequences of refusing.

The more he thought about it, the more disturbed he became.

If everything was truly predetermined, why would the gods demand worship? Why would they care whether humans praised them or not?

Why would they seek converts? Why would they compete for followers? A truly perfect god would have no need for validation.

A truly perfect god would have no need to control.

Yet the gods encouraged humanity to devote themselves entirely to divine authority.

The entire system began to resemble something unsettling.

Humanity was not being guided, humanity was being managed.

Humanity was being raised and controlled, like livestock.

And when that realization finally settled within his heart, the boy understood something about himself as well.

For years he had searched for the meaning of life.

He had searched among priests, among scholars, among monks, among sacred scriptures and ancient teachings.

Now, at last, he had found his answer.

His meaning and purpose.....his life.....it had only one simple goal....

Freedom.

It was not wealth, not power, nor worship.

Freedom.

The freedom to choose, the freedom to act, the freedom to shape his own future.

The freedom to walk a path that had not already been written by someone else.

And if Fate itself stood in his way...then he would oppose Fate.