Taming the Protagonist

Chapter 83: Fate, Resistance, Choice, and… Trust

With only one day left of the week’s deadline, I sat cross-legged on the ground, drenched in sweat, resting in my special training suit.

This time, I’d been smart, bringing a box of spare clothes and placing a bucket of water in the courtyard’s corner.

“Anselm.” I peered through the gaps between blades, staring at the Hydra engrossed in his book. “What’s your plan next?”

“After dealing with the Red Ice Python?” Anselm asked without looking up.

“Yeah!”

I spread my long, toned legs, leaning forward, grabbing my toes, my body as flexible as a cat’s, stretching easily.

“Our opponent’s something unreasonable…”

Though I said that, my eyes sparkled with confidence: “You’ve made tons of preparations, right? I wanna hear!”

“Really wanna hear?”

“Really!”

Anselm glanced at me stretching, his gaze tracing my spine and waist, lingering on my raised curves, chuckling: “Then I won’t tell you.”

“Anselm!” I called out, annoyed, but secretly pleased by his gaze.

“It’d make things much trickier if I told you—not that you cause trouble, Hitana, but Him.”

Anselm waved, dismissing the blades, closed his book, and looked at me:

“Hitana, do you know how ‘fate’ works?”

“Uh… huh?” I was confused. “How would I know?”

“I spent a long time paying countless prices.”

The young Hydra sighed: “To glimpse a fraction of its possibilities.”

“It’s complex. You might not understand now, so I’ll keep it simple.”

“First, though I’m under His influence, those memories aren’t.”

“Memories… how can they be influenced?” I tilted my head.

Anselm smiled: “Simply, our transmigrator friend’s memories are the only thing in this world outside fate’s sight. He can’t know how much I’ve learned, so he can't prepare, only react to my moves.”

His eyes grew complex: “Only things from beyond this world can fight the world itself.”

“Without those memories, knowledge,” he closed his eyes, his voice rare with unmasked hatred, “I’d just suffer more… and return to square one.”

“Anselm…” I looked at him, pained, knowing the despair in his words from his memories.

“But we’ve got weapons now, right?” Anselm opened his eyes, smiling calmly. “That’s worth celebrating.”

The young Hydra quickly regained his usual demeanor, untouched by inner or outer forces:

“Second, he won’t drastically alter the world to enforce that future. Like when I arranged your assassination as a child, fate’s solution was making the assassin someone you could handle, not dropping a meteor to kill my third-tier assassin.”

“He won’t fabricate facts to negate off-track events but guides them ‘reasonably’ back to His path.”

“Though reality defies logic,” Anselm spun a blade on his fingertip, “He always seeks ‘reason,’ never changing.”

“That’s the root of our resistance.”

Lying on the ground, I said thoughtfully: “So, it just yells in my head—not that scary. Safer than the Emperor dropping from the sky to kill us all.”

“You’re mistaken, Hitana.”

Anselm’s lips twitched, his cold smile aimed at that supreme, unseen force.

“That shows how powerful and dangerous fate is.”

“If he were a force demanding everything follow His path, crushing any deviation, He’d be a child throwing tantrums, a powerless clown.”

“But fate isn’t that tangible. He… doesn’t care.”

“When things go astray, he tries reasonable fixes. If they fail, he’s unshaken, silently allowing it. Otherwise… I’d be dead.”

“We must know our place, Hitana. On this long fight against fate, never think ‘fate’s no big deal.’”

“His limits, his aloofness, are our basis to fight him, not a reason to overestimate ourselves.”

I took Anselm’s warning to heart, nodding seriously.

“Third, most importantly,” Anselm’s tone grew grave, so grave I stopped stretching, sitting up.

“You, me, and this world weren’t born because he needed us.”

I tilted my head, confused: “What’s that mean?”

“It means fate didn’t need a Celestial Wolf Empress to rival the Empire, so you were born. You had the potential to become one, so fate chose to guide you there.”

“Sounds… like no difference,” I said, annoyed. “Either way, he controls me.”

Anselm shook his head: “Hitana, the difference is huge. Your will’s too pure to dwell on this, but as you grow, looking back on fate, you might face the fear I did—”

“If fate’s so omnipotent, are my thoughts, my existence, everything… even at this moment, under his control?”

I froze, a chill rising in my heart: “That’s… that’s too much…”

“Just hearing it feels unbearable, right?”

Anselm stroked the book’s cover, eyes lowered: “I was trapped in that self-doubt for so long, even wondering if the transmigrator was fate’s design, if I was still on His scripted path, nearly despairing, nearly dying.”

It was a dark time Anselm loathed recalling.

Outwardly, he was polite, cheerful, facing everyone with optimism; alone, he curled up, frantically comparing the transmigrator’s memories to his own experiences.

On the edge of collapse, he doubted his efforts to change the future, yet forced himself to try.

In that contradictory spiral, he struggled in despair with near-masochistic resolve.

He was only eleven then.

I walked silently to Anselm, sitting at his feet.

Anselm patted my head, saying softly: “Hitana, I don’t want you to face that despair, that indescribable despair. More than fighting fate, holding onto this belief matters most.”

“You, me, this world’s beings weren’t made for some purpose. Never doubt yourself.”

“If… if you face a crossroads where you can’t choose—”

“Then believe in myself, right!”

I looked up, my dark red eyes clear, unwavering.

My lovely face bore a resolute, radiant smile. I reached for Anselm, saying without hesitation:

“Like you chose to believe in me!”

“…”

Anselm froze, looking at my face, not consoling but filled with absolute trust.

His gaze shifted briefly, imperceptibly.

“Exactly,” the young Hydra smiled, gripping my hand. “Like I believed in you.”

“Haha!”

As our hands clasped, I laughed loudly: “I touched you, Anselm!”

I bounced up, jumping onto his lap, joyfully hugging his neck, swaying: “I won, I won!”

Our young master Anselm, rarely stunned twice in moments, looked at my flushed, excited face, chuckling: “That counts?”

“Of course it counts!”

I raised my head proudly: “I didn’t say stop, just asked a question during a break. Our spar isn’t over, right?”

My waist twisted with excitement and joy.

I looked down at Anselm, huffing: “You’re not gonna back out, are you, Anselm? I used my brain, like you said!”

“It’s a pretty sneaky trick, but…”

Anselm exhaled deeply, tightly hugging my waist, chuckling: “You pass.”

“Hehe, I knew you’d… ah!”

The hot sensation through my thin training suit made me shudder, nearly falling off Anselm’s lap.

“An, Anselm, you…”

“…Wasn’t that on purpose?” Anselm looked at me oddly. “All sweaty, in that outfit, squirming on my lap, I thought you wanted—”

“I didn’t!”

I squealed shyly, trying to jump off, but the wicked Hydra held my waist tight, pinning me.

With my strength, I could’ve escaped, but as Marina said—my mouth says no, but my body keeps leaning in.

Anselm really liked that.

He always respected a girl’s wishes in these matters, easily reading their true intentions.

As for me now, well…

“Really didn’t?” Hydra chuckled, hands resting on my full, healthy thighs.

“…Wait! Anselm, I, you—”

I remembered Marina’s words.

Sure, right now, I kinda, maybe, wanted… but this wasn’t the right time!

I had to wait until my name rang out!

“An, Anselm…”

I trembled, whispering in his ear: “That… that’s not okay, can I…”

I let out a cat-like whimper, telling Anselm about new things I learned from Marina’s books.

Anselm raised a brow: “You know that? When’d you learn?”

“Yest, yesterday,” I mumbled, squirming. “Is that okay? I… I don’t not want to do that with you, just…”

“I’m fine with it, or rather… It's pretty good.”

Intrigued, the noble young master kissed my snowy neck, leaning back in his chair, teasing:

“You’d better work hard, Hitana.”

“Ugh…”

I let out a pitiful whimper but didn’t stop, covering my face, slowly pressing my legs together…

***

Anselm was used to these frequent intimate moments.

Hydra’s demonic blood and nature affected mind and body in ways most couldn’t grasp.

As Marina said, Anselm did these things mostly for release.

But thinking of my shy expression and clumsy actions, Anselm smiled to himself.

“These things… are better with some emotion.”

Changing clothes, walking alone, he mused: “Even if Hitana’s skills aren’t great, it still feels nice.”

Eating good food too often dulls the taste; favorite toys get set aside.

Most think it’s boredom, but it’s not.

It’s just desire being satisfied, leaving no need.

But Hydra was different.

Beneath his human-like shell dwelt a terrifying soul, apex of all demons, roaming the abyss’s depths.

Hydra’s chaos, savagery, wildness… its suppressed madness, when expressed, showed most clearly in its near-insatiable desire, so Anselm never tired of it.

My naive inexperience brought him unexpected joy, stirring his dark desires.

He’d felt an urge to pin me down then, but restrained himself.

Not just out of respect, but because… my first time mattered to him too, not just me.

Unlike my sweet, shy wish born from Marina’s advice, Anselm’s goal was cold and ruthless.

He didn’t care or feel guilt.

When the time came, no matter his true aim, he’d please me fully.

For me, unaware of his thoughts, it’d be a perfect, unforgettable night—what’s wrong with that?

But now wasn’t the time for such thoughts.

Dressed as a traveler, hooded, looking road-worn, Anselm wasn’t in Chishuang City or Chishuang Territory.

Not even in the North.

This was the Empire’s west, near the Tianlu Mountain Range, in the “West Kingdom.”

Calling a part of the Empire’s domain a “kingdom” was rebellious, but it was just travelers’ and adventurers’ slang, widely accepted.

The West Kingdom’s vast lands teemed with diverse figures—four grand dukes ruled here, alongside smugglers, opportunists, adventurers… countless types thrived in this chaotic, vibrant place, unlike the lifeless North.

Unbeknownst to all, the Hydra stirring storms in the North had crossed half the Empire to Aling City, under the Dragon Tongue Grand Duke’s rule.

“Ring-a-ling—”

Anselm entered a tavern, the bell’s chime drowned by raucous laughter and curses.

Strange cloaked figures like him were common in the West Kingdom, so most paid him no mind, except a few veterans of seven or ten years, their gazes sharpening.

Anselm strode to the counter, pulling up a chair.

“Far-traveled friend, what’ll it be?” The handsome bartender flashed a charming smile. “Need a recommendation?”

“Fate.”

The shadowed youth smiled: “Give me a cup of fate.”

“…”

The bartender’s face froze.

In that brief pause, unspeakable terror spread across his handsome features.

“What, forgot how to make it, Vig?”

Anselm’s hand emerged from his cloak, tapping the weathered counter: “One drop of saint’s blood, one drop of believer’s blood, one drop of arcane blood, one drop… of beast king’s blood.”

“Plus ninety-nine drops of the afflicted’s tears.”

Clang!

Amid the noise, the counter’s clatter was faint, yet it silenced the tavern.

All eyes turned to the counter, to the mysterious cloaked figure, to the bartender backing into the liquor cabinet, face full of dread.

“Rare sight,” someone whistled in the quiet. “Someone’s causing trouble in Raven’s Nest.”

“Hey, Vig, what’s with that scared-shitless look? Hahaha, I recorded it with a crystal. Buy me a drink, or it’s all over the West Kingdom tomorrow!”

The jeers didn’t ease Vig’s fear; they deepened his despair.

The nearest patron sensed something off, placing a hand on Anselm’s shoulder, tone harsh: “Raven’s Nest welcomes all friends and drinkers. You… here to drink?”

“Of course,” Anselm smiled. “Just your bartender can’t make what I want.”

“Hah, find three better bartenders in the West Kingdom, and I’ll lick your boots!”

A nearby drinker flipped him off: “Quit acting!”

“You hear that, Vig?”

The shadowed gaze turned to the trembling bartender, the devil smiling: “They trust your skills, and so do I. So, make me that drink—”

“Enough.”

A hoarse voice came from the staircase to the second floor.

All heads turned, the tavern exploding with noise.

“Holy shit, Fafna!”

“A live one! No, a live raven! It’s really here!”

“Shut up, noisy bastards.”

A strange, forceful wave echoed through the tavern.

A tall, lean figure in a black mask descended.

Its beastly claws and black-feathered arms suggested “beast” more than “human.”

“Been a while. You didn’t come just to mess with Vig, did you—”

“Faust.”

Faust.

That name plunged Raven’s Nest into dead silence.

Any adventurer in the West Kingdom knew it.

Three years ago, during the Dragon Calamity, he slew nineteen dragons, clashed with the Dragon Tongue Grand Duke for unknown reasons, then vanished unscathed—a mysterious powerhouse who appeared and disappeared in the West Kingdom.

“Just joking. I know Vig can’t make my drink yet, and I haven’t given him the ingredients.”

Anselm smiled: “Fafna, I came this far… for a big deal.”

In the silence, Fafna descended, staring at Anselm.

“That’s all?” it asked suddenly.

“That’s all,” Anselm nodded.

“Then why disturb me?”

Fafna’s voice grew annoyed: “Rein in your venomous aura.”

“Because this news is valuable… I hear your nest hasn’t had a haul in a month?”

Anselm grinned: “This deal could make you a fortune.”

Fafna vanished, then emerged from the shadows beside Anselm, its distorted form terrifying.

It stared at Anselm, spitting one word:“Speak.”

Anselm spoke, his words shielded by an unseen force, heard only by Fafna.

After a brief exchange, the youth, calling himself Faust, said casually: “Well, is the news worth it?”

Fafna didn’t reply, but its trembling claws and feathers showed its excitement.

“Authenticity,” it said gravely. “I need to verify it.”

“You can’t,” Anselm replied nonchalantly. “Truth spells don’t work on me, and I’m the only one with this info. I told you, now pay up.”

“…Hah, some forced deal,” Fafna sneered. “Your devilish nature hasn’t changed.”

After a brief pause, it said coldly: “Name your price.”

“Your miserly vault should still have a vial of 【Beast】 element’s 【Water of Redemption】.”

Hydra chuckled, baring fangs at someone unknown:“I need it.”

“…What’s it for?” Fafna didn’t refuse but eyed Anselm oddly.

“What, tired of being human after being a freak for so long?”

“Just say yes or no.”

“Deal,” Fafna said without hesitation, plunging its hand into the counter’s shadow, pulling out a bottle of viscous black liquid, tossing it to Anselm.

“Hmph… no idea who’ll suffer your poison, but it’s not my problem.”

Fafna snorted: “Go to hell soon, devil.”

Anselm shook the bottle, smiling at Fafna’s words:

“May you rake in a fortune, Raven’s Nest master.”

Under the tavern’s gaze, Anselm waved to the leader of the Empire’s largest adventurer group and left casually.

After he left, a crowd surged to the bar, surrounding Fafna, chattering:

“Hey, boss, that guy’s really Faust? The one who could take on a grand duke?”

“He looks like a weakling. I thought he’d be a badass!”

“Weakling? You didn’t see him brawling with that old pervert Dragon Tongue…”

“Yeah, when that monster strolled in with a string of dragon heads, you lot were hiding in basements crying for mommy.”

“Hey, Vig, what’s your deal?”

Seeing their boss stay silent, the crowd turned to the bartender, who’d calmed slightly: “What drink did he order to scare you like that?”

Vig paused, still trembling, but seemed to force himself to speak, as if voicing his experience could banish the fear.

“That ‘fate’ he ordered needed one drop of Saint’s Blood, one drop of Believer’s Blood, one drop of Arcane Blood, one drop of Beast King’s Blood, and ninety-nine drops of Afflicted’s Tears.”

“…What the hell? Is that guy some evil sorcerer?”

Vig shook his head: “He said I’d be the Empire’s best bartender someday, so he reserved… his trophy drink. Honestly… I didn’t get what he meant then, but he gave me one ingredient.”

“…Ninety-nine drops of Afflicted’s Tears.”

At this, Vig’s body shook again. He stumbled back, clutching his head, muttering: “It’s just… it’s just…”

“Enough, don’t push him.”

Fafna ended the topic: “I kept those ninety-nine tears. Talk about something else. Vig, take the rest of the day off, go rest.”

The strange being—neither fully human nor beast, master of Raven’s Nest, one of the Empire’s few self-made fifth-tier powerhouses—its beastly claws trembled faintly.

Having stored those tears for Vig, Fafna knew better than anyone the source of his terror.

Those tears, mere tears, were ten thousand times more horrifying than any abyss potion. Even without drinking, their aura alone could drag someone into the abyss.

Fafna couldn’t imagine what monster could consume such a thing. Abyss potions, Water of Redemption? Child’s play compared to this.

It wasn’t Afflicted’s Tears—it was despair and the abyss itself.

***

No one knew Anselm had made such a journey in so little time.

After handling increasingly streamlined daily tasks, eating dinner alone quietly, and returning to the study to dive into endless study until the clock chimed, Anselm set down his book, ready to end the day.

Through the balcony’s floor-to-ceiling window, I saw Hitana clinging to Marina’s arm, walking down the street.

Marina stayed busy advancing Anselm’s policies in Chishuang Territory, her meticulous and precise methods earning his favor.

Compared to the original timeline’s Lady Violet, Marina’s approach was less cruel but still carried a faint, cold rationality—perhaps Anselm’s influence, or… fate’s inertia.

Besides her guarding, Hitana was entirely different.

In the original future, she’d endured much by now, only smiling occasionally with the Revolutionary Army, her eyes and expression usually lifeless.

Now, I chattered by my sister’s ear, making Marina look exasperated.

My eyes and expression were so lively, my increasingly lovely face so carefree and charming.

Anselm watched briefly before I suddenly looked up, scanning alertly.

In under three seconds, I locked onto him at the window.

My alertness melted into joy, and I grabbed Marina, jumping and waving, even through the glass, even from a distance, Anselm hearing my enthusiastic, affectionate call:“Anselm! Anselm, Anselm! I’m back!”

Before he could reply, I eagerly pulled Marina, running. Finding her too slow, I scooped her up amid her yelp, carrying her on my shoulder, rushing into the manor.

My call seemed to linger in Anselm’s ears. Picturing me sprinting with my sister, he couldn’t help but smile.

But that uncontrolled smile froze abruptly.

“…”

Hydra silently touched his cheek, fingers tracing his lips.

As they slid down, the smile’s warmth and color faded.

When it returned to his usual mild, subdued expression, Anselm lowered his hand, murmuring:

“This is best.”

With that smile, he left the study to meet my affection and expectations.

Then, Hydra recalled Fafna’s parting words after their deal.

Go to hell soon…

Anselm’s heart chuckled.

He felt he’d always been there, never leaving.