"A little, but not much," Amon said, pinching his monocle. "After all, even in the original fate, I wouldn't have claimed the final victory. So why dwell on regrets?"
Amon hadn't been idle lately. He'd already pieced together details of the original timeline, especially since Alaric hadn't hidden anything.
"You're quite open-minded. In that case, I suppose I'm the one who's gotten the better deal," Bethel replied, recognizing that Amon's words weren't mere deflection but genuine.
"Honestly, I'm glad," Amon continued, meeting Bethel's slightly surprised expression with a slight smirk. "I don't have many old friends left. You're one of them. Losing you would've been a shame."
Bethel paused, then looked at Amon. After a few seconds, he smiled. "Amon, it seems you've changed quite a bit."
"I've learned a lot lately, so naturally, I've changed some," Amon admitted without hesitation. He unhurriedly removed his monocle, wiped it with a handkerchief that appeared from nowhere, and put it back on. His gaze sharpened as he looked at Bethel. "But even if you're an old friend, if you want me to give up my uniqueness, you'll have to earn my respect first. I'm looking forward to seeing your strength once you're restored, Bethel. We never got the chance back then, but now we can finally have a proper match."
With that, Amon turned to Alaric. "I know the Lord of Mysteries you have in mind isn't me, but this world has always belonged to the strong. If I manage to come out on top, would I get that chance?"
Alaric chuckled, giving Amon a half-smile that was neither confirmation nor denial... an answer in itself.
Amon understood immediately. He sighed, saying with a touch of sentiment, "You really play favorites."
"I've always played favorites," Alaric replied without a hint of denial, smiling. "As you said, this world is survival of the fittest. I'm stronger than you, so you'll just have to listen to me, Amon."
Alaric never hid that he was biased. In his list of candidates for Lord of Mysteries, Amon was never included.
Even if Amon seemed to have changed, Alaric wouldn't reconsider him.
His sights were set on only two people.
"You're awfully upfront about it," Amon said, unsurprised by the response. His expression showed no real disappointment as he turned back to Bethel. "I may not have a shot at that title, but I still want to face you in a proper match someday, old friend... just to erase that last bit of reluctance."
Bethel gave Amon a deep look, not refusing. The King of Angels, once closest to godhood, flashed a proud smile. "I'll make you lose fair and square, Amon."
"I'm looking forward to it," Amon replied, adjusting his monocle. Though he spoke of anticipation, his calm confidence showed he had plenty of faith in himself.
Watching the two face off, Alaric suddenly thought of something and nudged Antigonus, the other member of the trio of angels, with a grin. "This is supposed to be a movie for three, but you're not getting any screen time, Puppy. Any thoughts?"
Antigonus looked at his two former colleagues, who were locked in their standoff and had completely ignored him. For a moment, he felt stifled. But deep down, he knew the gap between them. Dejectedly, he said, "I really can't compare to them. They're better than me."
"Poor pup," Alaric said, ruffling the demonic wolf's head before turning to Mr. Door. "Get ready, Bethel. We're about to start the procedure."
"Oh…" Alaric suddenly thought of something and looked at Bethel. "Bethel, have you ever felt despair?"
Bethel froze at the question. After a few seconds of silence, he nodded, admitting frankly, "I have. Over the past thousand years, I've felt despair more than once."
It wasn't something he couldn't admit. Bethel had indeed despaired during those foggy years of lost consciousness, in the days when he knew he was beyond saving. Even the great Mr. Door, closest to godhood, had faced despair.
"Then could you lend me your despair?" Alaric paused, then smiled. "That way, you'll never have to feel it again."
Bethel blinked, staring at the young man who had changed his fate. He smiled, then nodded solemnly. "Alright."
…
The procedure on Bethel went relatively smoothly. Alaric had accumulated plenty of experience by now, no longer the fumbling novice he'd been during his first attempt.
Even so, the process was far from easy. Unlike Roselle, who had fluctuated wildly between temporary madness, Bethel didn't oscillate as dramatically but still succumbed to bouts of temporary insanity.
Fortunately, Alaric might lack finesse in other areas, but handling temporary madness was second nature. He swiftly dealt with Bethel's episodes, sparing him excessive suffering.
Still, the madness, distortion, and chaos brought by the contamination were things Alaric couldn't fully eliminate.
When the procedure ended, Bethel lay quietly on the bed, his eyes slightly glazed, reflecting his fragile state.
"You didn't lose your mind, did you?" Alaric asked, waving a hand in front of Bethel's face, his tone unusually cautious.
"…I'm fine. It just feels like I've been reborn," Bethel managed, forcing a smile. Though his condition was poor, he chose to reassure Alaric first.
"You might as well say it feels like you died once," Amon interjected, adjusting his monocle as he offered his own translation.
Antigonus, meanwhile, had puffed up into a giant fluffball nearby, the sight of Mr. Door's procedure stirring unpleasant memories.
"Always so eloquent," Alaric said, shooting Amon a cold glance before turning back to Bethel with a sheepish smile. "Was it really that bad? I thought my skills had improved."
"No, it was tough, but bearable," Bethel said, shaking his head. He sat up. "Compared to the pain, I much prefer this feeling of lightness."
Bethel meant it. The pain of the procedure had been intense, but the sensation of being free from the Outer Deity's contamination was far more liberating.
***
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