Alaric fell silent for a moment, then smiled and said, "I don't think it's His fault. After all, He didn't fail to strive for Sequence 0... He just died."
The presence inside the telegraph office paused for a few seconds, as if processing Alaric's words, before responding, "Those who die are failures, squandering the grace bestowed upon them."
"That's a harsh judgment. I think it's unfair," Alaric said with a grin. "If the dead are failures, then what are the sealed? Failures among failures?"
"And…" Alaric paused, his smile widening. "Rather than grace, what your master gave Medici might better be called a curse."
Anyone familiar with Alaric would have frozen at the sight of his radiant yet dangerous smile... a sign he was more than a little annoyed.
The presence behind the door seemed provoked by his words, a dangerous aura seeping through the barrier, enough to make anyone tremble. Yet Alaric remained unfazed, smiling as he said, "Oh, did I hit a nerve? I won't apologize, though... I'm only stating the truth."
The telegraph office's door began to tremble, as if someone inside was about to force it open. But Alaric pressed his hand against it, and the restless door fell still.
"Sorry, too late!" Alaric said with a smile. In the next moment, he pushed the door open himself, yet not a trace of power leaked out, as if an invisible force prevented it.
Alaric lifted his gaze to the world beyond the door. It wasn't the interior of the telegraph office, nor the shadow of Bansy, but a reflection of another city.
A city unfamiliar to people of this era but well-known to the remnants of the old days.
"As expected…" Alaric wasn't surprised. He stepped through the doorway, closing it behind him, and looked up at the mist-shrouded city before him.
This wasn't the original city, merely a reflection... a semblance of something real.
Alaric didn't mind. He let his senses expand, then raised an eyebrow, remarking as if in awe, "Such enthusiasm! I almost forgot... you have a consciousness of your own."
Just as a Uniqueness could come alive and possess its own will, a Sefirot, even more powerful, could naturally do the same, giving rise to an independent personality.
In fact, one could argue the Celestial Worthy was the embodiment of the Sefirah Castle.
Over countless years, the City of Calamity had developed its own personality. However, since its core resided on the Western Continent, its primary consciousness operated there... sealed by ascetics, no less, due to its refusal to act human.
It wasn't killed but sealed, because such an entity could only be destroyed by annihilating its Sefirot. Otherwise, it was immortal, only containable.
Even with its main consciousness sealed, the City of Calamity retained a degree of awareness in this offshoot, a sort of avatar.
"Leave this place, outsider," a figure materialized, bearing a faint resemblance to Medici... likely a blood relative.
The figure regarded Alaric with deep wariness.
"Nice shell, quite handsome," Alaric commented. He could tell this wasn't a Medici descendant but The Will of the City of Calamity, likely using a descendant's body as a vessel.
"There's nothing here for you. Containing me will only deepen your chaos," The Will of the City of Calamity said, its voice heavy with caution. The stronger an entity, the more it could sense Alaric's true nature, which explained The City of Calamity's apprehension.
The City of Calamity knew that if this outsider forced containment, it might come at a cost... perhaps madness or chaos... but it was entirely possible.
The City of Calamity had no desire for this outcome. Having gained its own will, it refused to become a tool in another's hands, nor did it wish for its consciousness to be erased.
A mortal Beyonder couldn't achieve this, but whether this outsider could was uncertain.
"You're afraid of me," Alaric said, staring at The Will of the City of Calamity for a few seconds before smiling. "The City of Calamity, symbol of conquest, is afraid. You're not living up to your name, lil bro."
"Fear of an entity above the Oldest One is no shame," The Will of the City of Calamity replied, still watching Alaric. "Outsider, state your purpose here."
"Is stubbornness a trait of all Hunters?" Alaric said with a laugh, then continued unhurriedly, "Before coming here, I only wanted to explore the Oldest One's contingency for revival left within the City of Calamity…"
As he spoke, Alaric observed The Will of the City of Calamity closely. It showed no surprise, clearly aware of this contingency.
That made sense... how could the City of Calamity not know of the Oldest One's arrangements within itself?
Judging by The Will of the City of Calamity growing colder, Alaric could tell it not only knew but was powerless against it.
After all, this was the work of the Oldest One. The City of Calamity might be formidable to others, but to that being, it was merely a tool.
The Will of the City of Calamity spoke again, "I can grant you access to that part."
Its expression softened slightly, perhaps scheming to pit one force against another.
"Should I say thank you?" Alaric smiled, then shifted his tone. "But you Hunters have a universal trait of running your mouths!"
He locked eyes with The Will of the City of Calamity, its iron-black gaze meeting his. Slowly, he said, "I'm angry now."
The Will of the City of Calamity, which had just begun to relax, froze. It seemed ready to act, but before it could, it sensed something, staring at Alaric in disbelief. "What have you done?!"
Alaric smiled at it. "Of course, I'm a merciful being. So, though I'm angry, I've decided to help you."
"To help you gain independence."
Another voice echoed. Another Alaric appeared in the reflected city, one who was supposed to be discussing Church matters with Medici.
***
Every 100 Power Stones and 5 Reviews will earn you a Bonus Chapter.
And if you want to read up to 50 chapters ahead, don't hesitate to visit our patron: pat reon . com / XElenea (remove space)