Temple of the Demon Lord of Wishes-Chapter 73: Heroes Don’t Survive

Watching Darian walk away, Ivaim let out a low sigh and shook his head, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

"Well, that went... great," he muttered under his breath, sarcasm dripping from his tone. "What am I even doing?"

He glanced at the empty street ahead and then at the glowing system notification hovering faintly in the corner of his vision.

[Believer Count: 47]

His smirk faded as he stared at the number.

’Only 47. That’s barely a drop in the bucket compared to what I need.’

Ivaim crossed his arms, leaning against a lamppost as his thoughts spiraled.

’I already know I don’t stand a chance against the Master of Cruelty. At best, I’d be able to scurry around like a pesky rat for ten seconds before getting flattened... maybe fifteen if I’m lucky—I mean, even luckier.’

He chuckled dryly at his own expense, shaking his head again.

"Who am I kidding? Even a rat knows when to stay in its hole."

But then his eyes flicked back to the notification, the number taunting him.

’The increase in the believer count has slowed down... What’s going on? Did something happen back in the real world?’

The thought sent a wave of unease through him. He shifted his weight, tapping his fingers against his arm.

’It’s probably those orthodox temples catching on to whatever Williams has been up to. Figures. I can’t rely on just him to make myself stronger anyway.’

He pushed himself off the lamppost and began walking, his boots crunching softly against the gravel road. The faint glow of streetlights cast long shadows ahead of him, the quiet of the night wrapping around him like a heavy blanket.

"Maybe if I push myself harder this week, I’ll manage... what? Twenty seconds against him?" He let out a bitter laugh.

"Yeah, twenty whole seconds before I end up a smear on the ground. That’s progress, I guess."

Despite his words, his chest tightened at the thought of facing the Master of Cruelty.

The image of that cold, towering figure flashed in his mind, its presence suffocating, its aura enough to paralyze even the bravest.

’I have to find a way to get stronger before the regionals.’ His jaw tightened.

He stopped for a moment, glancing up at the darkened sky. The stars above were distant and faint, almost mocking in their serenity.

With a quiet sigh, he adjusted his coat and began making his way back toward the bakery. The familiar streets of the town unfolded before him, quiet now that the festivities had ended.

The sounds of his footsteps echoed faintly, accompanied by the cool breeze that brushed against his skin.

Rounding a corner, he slowed his pace as two figures came into view. One was a tall, stern-looking man with wavy black hair, his posture rigid and imposing.

Beside him stood a young boy, no older than twelve, who bore an uncanny resemblance to the man. The boy was munching on a piece of bread, his cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk’s as he chewed.

Ivaim blinked in surprise, his footsteps slowing as he recognized the two figures.

Nathan and Reves.

Before he could greet them, Reves’s face lit up with excitement.

"Hello, Uncle—!" The boy’s cheerful voice cut off abruptly, his eyes darting toward his father. His posture stiffened as though he’d just remembered an important rule.

Clearing his throat, Reves quickly corrected himself.

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"I mean, hello, Brother Ivaim. I brought my father here since you requested a discussion."

His voice, though still carrying the innocence of youth, had taken on a stilted attempt at formality.

He even tried to mirror Nathan’s cold, stern tone, but the effect was more amusing than intimidating.

Ivaim’s lips twitched as he fought the urge to laugh.

’This kid... it’s like he’s an entirely different person when his dad’s around.’

Nathan, however, didn’t so much as blink at the change in Reves. His sharp gaze turned to Ivaim, his expression unreadable.

"You’re representing this town in the regionals?" he asked, his tone clipped.

Ivaim straightened slightly.

"Yes, I am. I figured the arenas might hold the key to escaping this Fractured Reality."

Nathan’s piercing gaze didn’t waver.

"What makes you think that?"

Ivaim glanced at Reves, hesitating for a moment, before turning his attention back to Nathan.

"I suspect we’ll find the Master of Cruelty there. If we can locate him, perhaps we could set a trap and ambush him before—"

Nathan raised a hand, cutting him off with a sharp shake of his head.

"It’s not about killing the Reality Master," he said firmly, his voice carrying a weight of certainty. "It’s about finishing the story."

That stopped Ivaim in his tracks. He blinked, confused.

"Finishing the story? What do you mean?"

Nathan crossed his arms, his expression as cold as ever.

"The only way to complete the main task of a Fractured Reality is to follow its narrative. These places aren’t just chaotic worlds—they’re twisted versions of stories. To escape, you have to reach the ending."

Ivaim frowned, the pieces of Nathan’s explanation not quite falling into place.

"So... we’re characters in some kind of tale?" Your journey continues with novelbuddy

Nathan nodded, his tone matter-of-fact.

"In a way. I’m not quite sure of some things yet, every Fractured Reality has its own set of rules."

Reves, who had been quietly munching on a second piece of bread, suddenly chimed in.

"Dad’s really good at figuring out these stories! He even solved the last one all by himself!" His voice was full of pride, and he shot Ivaim a beaming smile.

"Reves," Nathan said sharply, and the boy immediately fell silent, though the smile lingered on his face.

Ivaim rubbed the back of his neck, his mind racing.

"So, if this is all a story... how do we figure out what the ending is?"

Nathan’s gaze turned distant, his voice dropping slightly.

"The clues are everywhere—in the arenas, in the tasks, even in the people you meet. But make no mistake, Ivaim. The Master of Cruelty isn’t just an obstacle. He’s part of the narrative. If you don’t play your role carefully, you’ll never make it to the ending."

Ivaim swallowed hard, the weight of Nathan’s words sinking in.

"So you’re saying it’s not enough to be strong. You have to... understand the story?"

Nathan gave a slight nod.

"Strength helps, but it’s not the answer. The story is the key."

Reves tilted his head, glancing between the two of them.

"Does that mean Brother Ivaim has to be the hero?"

Nathan’s lips twitched, though it wasn’t quite a smile.

"That depends. Heroes don’t always survive until the end."

.....

Author’s Extra Words :

(Hello, I cannot tell if this book is doing well enough for me to try and keep it updated, I’m having doubts if whether or not this book is good enough for the readers. I’m currently still stuck in between the decision of stopping this book or continuing it.

I hope you guys understand that I don’t want to waste too much time on a book that won’t help me earn money since I’m in dire need of it.

I’ll give it a week or two more to see this book’s progress before deciding, thank you guys for understanding. )