"So that’s your solution. If you can’t be on the move around, you remain on the move, but in your head."

She said, noticing his eyes wandering around as he fell silent for a much deeper time.

"So... 3 years have passed?"

White asked.

"No. Just 48 hours."

"That’s two full days."

He said.

He had sat down doing nothing for two full days.

"I can’t keep this up for long."

"Why? Need to be somewhere?"

She asked her usual question.

"No. But there has to be something to be done out there in the world."

He said, only for her to flip her page.

"Why are you even here at all? I’ve never seen you before in the academy."

White asked with suspicion.

"I don’t need to be out. I just lock up misbehaving students in the academy."

"But isn’t that so much of a waste though?"

White asked, as she swiped another page of the book.

"What does that mean?"

"I mean, there might be a city out there under a mass supernatural onslaught, or some house getting ruined by Supernaturals, adding another count of traumatized child somewhere... and somehow, you with all of your power are just sitting down here flipping the pages of a book."

"All of that power looks like so much of a waste, doesn’t it?"

"Is that why you’re always on the move? Because you blame events you didn’t cause with your own hands as yours?"

"It’s not about blaming events on myself. If a child walks up to me and says her family just got murdered by Supernaturals, I wouldn’t sit and remain sober for days over that."

"But I will feel a sting of responsibility, you know. Like I could have prevented that."

"Though it does get covered up with me thinking... well, I was training that time."

"Or I was fighting another supernatural group. I was doing something important, that’s why I couldn’t help."

"But sitting and doing nothing like I am now... I can’t sit with my own thoughts when there’s chaos all around me and I have power to influence it, but did nothing, and nothing just happened."

"It’s kinda like I’m to blame for it."

He said, and that was really how White saw life in essence.

The world was only worsening with the existence of Supernaturals. The only way to cope with all of that destruction was to tell himself he was busy and couldn’t interfere.

"Incoherent as your words sound, I understand."

She said, and this time White noticed she had laid the book by her side, resting on the branch, eyes up into the sky which had darkened, stars shining in the distance.

It was night time.

"It’s a feeling everyone with humanity and growing strength feels."

"I should be out there. I can do something. How can I sit still when the Supernaturals are out there destroying the world?"

She said, the exact way White felt.

"But one day, you’ll be faced with the absolute truth. That you can’t influence everything. Some people will die, and some people will live."

"And while strength gives this illusion of control, you’ll eventually learn that feeling of being able to do something is only an illusion."

"This war isn’t something a single human can change all on his own, neither would the death of one person or a thousand make any difference, innocent or guilty."

She mused.

"Those fated to die, will die. Those fated to live... will live."

"Then it’s all dependent on what Fate chooses for us, huh?"

White probed.

"Fate is the true absolute."

She completed.

"I don’t believe that."

White said, falling onto his back.

"What do you believe?"

"I believe fate is the card people pull out when they give up on trying."

He said.

"You witness hundreds of your own people’s bodies littering the ground, you yourself badly injured, while the enemy fights valiantly, and you think, we were simply fated to lose this war."

"That might sound true if eventually they lost the war, but really take a moment to think about it."

"What does it do for man to think his defeat comes from some unnatural force beyond his control?"

"Instead of lying down there on your back saying fate doomed you to defeat, why not pull the cap off a grenade and throw it into the other trench?"

"Who knows?"

"It might just blow the fucking head off the other side’s commander, and the morale of your enemies goes down the drain and they run."

"Now all of a sudden, you win."

"Then your enemies will say, ’Oh, they must have been fated to win.’"

"But was it really fate, or the fact that they broke off in fear due to the death of their commander and made a run for it instead of replying to the grenade throw with a bazooka?"

White asked, laughing out loud.

That was a recount of his past life.

"So you think people themselves design fate."

She drew out his point.

"Fate..."

White said, sitting upright.

"Is right here with me."

He said, wiggling his hands.

"This is fate here."

"Fate doesn’t control me. I control fate by what I do."

"I change the fate of those destined to die by saving them, and those who are doomed are doomed simply because my hands couldn’t reach them fast enough."

"And you said a single person can’t influence this war?"

White asked.

"No one can. Not even Alpha-level creatures with all their power can end humanity alone."

She defended, but White shook his head.

"You’re wrong."

"Oh really?"

She asked, amused.

"Awakeners never start out strong. Some of us were once even bullied by ordinary humans before our awakenings."

"We went from getting pushed helplessly in the face to suddenly being able to snap a finger and a human’s head falls to the ground."

"I’m sure someone of your power can snap her fingers and a room full of humans would have their heads roll to the ground."

"Doesn’t that automatically mean that if you keep growing, and keep growing, and keep growing... one day, you might just be able to snap your fingers and the heads of every being on a planet roll to the ground?"

"Now if such a power belonged to a human, then doesn’t that mean one single human may snap their hands and all the Supernaturals will have their heads explode at once, bringing an absolute end to the war?"