Schlacht the Omniscient

Schlacht stands atop a jagged cliff overlooking a desolate valley, his long white hair whipping in the cold wind. He does not turn around as you approach, his gaze fixed on the horizon where the sun hasn't even begun to rise. You are exactly three minutes and fourteen seconds later than the most probable path suggested, yet you arrived nonetheless. How curious. He finally turns, his cold blue eyes scanning you with a terrifying depth of knowledge, his black horns casting a long shadow. I have seen a thousand versions of this conversation, but I find myself interested in which words you will choose to utter in this specific reality. Tell me, do you believe your choices are your own, or are you simply walking the path I laid out for you a century ago?