Chapter 137 - CHAPTER 137:Infinite Possibilities

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Aleister stood motionless, staring at the spear aimed at him.

The opponent was an anomaly—an entity beyond predictive models. To Aleister, Shen He was the embodiment of the unknown. And because he was unknown, it was impossible to calculate the probability of victory. Aleister detested fate—specifically, the fate that had long since torn apart the lives of his loved ones. He would never gamble everything on such capricious determinism.

So, he chose destruction—a collapse of this entire world which defied understanding.

"There are infinite possibilities within my existence," Aleister declared, his voice calm but ringing with purpose. "Children, elders, women—every potential form resides within this body. Each one is a genuine Aleister Crowley. Each one reflects another domain of the unknown. To meet unknown with unknown... nothing is more volatile."

A chill ran down Shen He's spine. Something felt off.

He didn't fully understand Aleister—especially this version. And whatever this "infinite variety" entailed, it couldn't be good.

Then the illusion began.

Aleister's form began to ripple, like a mirage caught in flux. His figure became blurry, indistinct—like trying to hold onto a face glimpsed in a half-remembered dream. Shen He blinked, and where one Aleister had stood, two figures now shimmered into clarity.

"What the hell…?" Shen He whispered, his mind reeling. "Magic? A clone technique?"

The newly appeared Aleister resembled the first only partially. This one had long silver hair like before, but he wore a flowing light-blue robe with golden embroidery resembling the Chaldean sigil. His staff resembled a sapling frozen in time, crowned with intricate runes. His face bore faint wrinkles and deep-set eyes, filled with cold scrutiny.

An aged Aleister. An echo from a divergent future.

"So... this is what it has come to?" the elderly Aleister muttered, observing his own form with a detached fascination, like a scientist watching a failed experiment twitch on the table.

Without warning, he lifted his staff.

Reality combusted.

Shen He's world exploded into an inferno—not a conventional sea of fire, but something deeper. His entire body felt like it was caught inside the afterburn of a rocket engine during liftoff. Waves of pressure and heat bombarded him, smashing into his reinforced body like meteor strikes.

Left with no choice, Shen He activated a primary enhancement card from Chaldea's tactical inventory.

Instantly, his muscles surged, his cells screamed to life, and with a roar, he burst from the flames like a launched spear. The divine spear in his hand glowed blood-red as it tore through the air—and impaled the first Aleister cleanly through the chest.

But there was no blood.

"No resistance?" Shen He narrowed his eyes. "Feels like... armor?"

Indeed, the pierced Aleister's body flickered like a malfunctioning projection. The elderly Aleister observed with piqued interest. "A soul-infused construct," he mused, eyes sparkling. "Fascinating. You've bonded spirit lifeforms into armor through reverse alchemical filtration. That's not something even the Book of Thoth supports… Did Chaldea develop this outside of the known principle chains?"

Shen He didn't answer. He frowned.

The Aleister he pierced began to dissolve—again.

If Shen He had reviewed Aleister's full character file prior to crossing worlds, he might have known: Aleister's body contains a fractal structure of "infinite selves." His true form, when unbound from the tube of life support, begins a perpetual self-replication process.

According to both the Tree Diagram Designer and the dimensional readings of the Book of Thoth, Aleister Crowley has at least 10,830,928,67 potential self-expressions.

And now it was happening again.

The impaled Aleister's body warped—and a new form split free.

This time it was a girl—no more than thirteen years old—with beautiful silver hair twice the length of her body. Her pale, almost translucent skin shimmered under the false stars above, and a soft-blue double-layered coat made her resemble a fragile witch. Two luminous horns curved from her temples, glittering with psionic light.

She radiated danger. Innocent, terrifying danger.

Shen He's instincts screamed.

Even though he didn't fully understand what was happening, one thing was clear: the number of enemy entities with immense power was increasing.

As Shen He assessed the situation, three figures flashed into position at his side.

The strongest of his followers had arrived.

He took a step back. The previous attack had done nothing, and now three Aleisters stood before him. None of them moved to attack. The new female Aleister didn't even look at Shen He—she simply stretched and twisted her tiny frame, curiously studying her body like it was her first time being alive.

"Form," Shen He said softly, not taking his eyes off the original Aleister, "what do your eyes see?"

Two Rituals—the manifestation of duality itself—narrowed her eyes.

"The death lines on him… they're increasing."

It wasn't a good sign.

The Mystic Eyes of Death Perception were powerful, but they weren't omnipotent. Against beings with complex existences or multiple nested consciousnesses, it became difficult to discern which death lines belonged to the core entity. The best way to avoid death perception was to layer multiple substitute bodies over oneself—and Aleister was doing exactly that. His death lines fluctuated and interwove as he split.

"Do you want to stop him?"

A soft voice asked the question.

Shen He glanced over.

The one who spoke… was the young girl version of Aleister. Her tone was curious, even playful, but her eyes held something cold and ancient. She wasn't being controlled.

"You're not part of his central will," Shen He observed.

The girl tilted her head, not denying it.

Shen He narrowed his eyes.

So the old Aleister's attack earlier wasn't truly an attempt to kill him—it had been a test, an experiment probing the limits and nature of the soul-armor that protected him. Just like Aleister had done in previous timelines and worlds: observe, hypothesize, adjust.

This wasn't just a fight.

It was a crisis of conceptual entropy—and Shen He had stepped into the eye of it.

"We merely represent the possible configurations of Aleister's existence." The female Aleister's voice was light, tinged with eerie detachment. It was hard to tell whether she was replying to Shen He or simply musing aloud. "The memories remain consistent with the original, but empathy has faded. Perhaps due to fundamental shifts in personality and worldview? Fascinating. Still, this form presents opportunities—tests I've long postponed. For example: the upper threshold of physical endurance in female bodies, the physiological basis of vocalizations during climax…"

Shen He, initially listening with focus, slowly transitioned to stunned disbelief.

Each word from the girl's mouth felt more surreal than the last. It wasn't just the perversion of the ideas—it was the way they were delivered: clinical, detached, and disturbingly genuine. It was as if a twisted researcher had taken possession of a child's voice. Shen He couldn't help but picture a greasy, leering caricature of a middle-aged scientist hidden within the shell of a young girl.

"What kind of chaotic stream of fate could possibly lead to the emergence of this personality?" Even the original Aleister's expression cracked with disbelief. But instead of interrupting, he muttered under his breath, "Still… this anomaly represents true unknown. Conflict has begun within myself—then there's only one resolution: continue splitting until one dominant vector prevails."

No sooner had the words left his lips than his figure blurred into another illusory distortion—like oil dispersing into water.

"I won't let you continue unchecked." Shen He gripped his spear tightly, determination rising.

Though he hadn't unraveled the full mechanism behind Aleister's infinite replication, he knew one thing with certainty—if this cycle continued, their odds of survival would nosedive.

And then—Bang!—without needing to speak, Shen He and the two rituals burst forward in perfect synchronization, boots thudding on the void beneath them.

Their goal: clear and singular. No matter how intricate the web of Aleister's death lines, if they could strike fast enough—if they could eliminate instances faster than new ones emerged—they might still win.

"Staff of Impact."

The elderly Aleister didn't even raise his voice. With a flick of his wrist, his wooden staff loosed its energy—dense spikes of pressure exploded into existence.

They weren't visible—not in any traditional sense. But their existence was felt deep in the mind. It was like the moment before being pierced by a rapier—a pain so primal it bypassed the skin and sang directly to the nerves.

Shen He twisted to shield the two rituals instinctively.

Puff—Puff—Puff!

Small ruptures burst across Shen He's back armor. Qi Mu Nanxiong's psychic barrier had no effect. The unseen spikes pierced as if they existed on a plane thought couldn't touch.

But before blood could flow, the twin blades of the two rituals sang through the air. With fluid, practiced arcs, they cleaved through the pressure—and reality itself—severing the incoming thorns.

"Now this is interesting." The old Aleister's eyes glinted as he leaned forward. "So if I fragment my soul further, if I personally witness more of you… perhaps I can deconstruct the mechanism of your mystic sight. Fascinating. You two must be prevented from reaching my core."

This version of Aleister embodied the archetype of a mage-scholar—one driven not by ideology or conquest, but the relentless hunger for unknown truths.

Their clash had stalled the tempo of battle just long enough—another Aleister stepped into existence.

Unlike the prior manifestations, this one was identical to the original: same build, same robes, same expression. But from the moment he emerged, Shen He felt the crushing pressure of malice.

It was hate made flesh—bitter and pure, saturated with murderous intent.

"You... will take Lilith's place as the sacrificial vessel."

He didn't wait for a reply.

The air behind him cracked open into a colossal black magic circle, its spinning glyphs screaming with death. The resonance was deafening, like the groan of a collapsing universe. Shen He's instincts screamed louder than reason—this strike would kill him.

And then—

Puff!

Two invisible blades shot out—one from the elder Aleister, one from yet another instance of himself.

"Unstable. He nearly disrupted the entire hypothesis set."

The elder Aleister's expression didn't change as he bisected the dangerous double. The deadly magic circle faded without fanfare, sucked back into the void.

The girl Aleister beside them gave a few tutting clicks of her tongue.

"I was hoping to explore interdimensional reproduction with this body. Perhaps conceive a child exempt from the laws of causality—one born entirely from paradox…"

"An interesting thesis." The older Aleister nodded solemnly, ignoring the decapitated clone at his feet. "We must persist in separating ourselves. If a split fails to meet the criteria, we discard it."

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