Chapter 459
Eager—no, more precisely, deeply desirous—to mock every movement Ilux would make in the future.
There was a thick irony embedded within this situation, an irony so profound that even the gods might laugh—if they possessed a sufficiently dark sense of humor.
A former Supreme Angel, an entity who once sat upon the highest throne overseeing the flow of life with immeasurable wisdom, now—after merging with the essence of the Great Author—displayed desires that were anything but angelic.
A desire to mock, to bring others down, to savor the destruction of another being.
Was this the influence of Ambition, the most restless among Theo's four aspects?
Or was this, instead, the hidden side of Aldraya that had long been buried beneath the mask of angelic purity?
Or perhaps this was merely the early stage of synchronization, where old identity and new identity still clashed in a fierce struggle, producing unpredictable bursts of emotion?
Theo did not need to speculate too deeply to understand this, for to him, everything that happened had already been written within the scenario he had crafted since the beginning of time.
Yet understanding did not always mean acceptance, and knowing did not always mean allowing.
There are moments when intervention is necessary, moments when guidance must be given, moments when boundaries must be enforced—even against a part of oneself.
And that moment, for Theo, was now.
Thus, amid the silence filled only by the background noise of the cafeteria—indifferent to the small dramas unfolding in its corners—amid his gaze still fixed upon Ilux, who continued eating with robotic movements at a table near the window, amid the quiet that cloaked his existence hidden beneath an invisible veil, Theo spoke.
Not with a voice that emerged from his mouth, nor with a whisper audible to physical ears, but through a vibration of consciousness that he sent directly inward—into the silent space where Aldraya struggled with the process of synchronization.
That vibration carried no anger, no irritation, nor any disappointment that one might feel when a part of oneself behaves beyond control.
What it held instead was a strange gentleness, an unfamiliar warmth, a kind of care he had never shown to anyone throughout billions of years traversing reality.
He conveyed that it would be better for Aldraya to rest—to recover the energy drained by the synchronization process—to allow time for the old identity and the new identity to find a harmonious balance.
"You have no right to mediate my hatred."
In the depths of consciousness, within a silent space untouched by the noise of the outer world, the reply came without warning.
Not in the form of obedience as expected, nor in open defiance that could be easily predicted, but in something entirely different.
A flat, monotonous tone, devoid of emotion—yet precisely because of that absence, each word felt sharper, more piercing, more weighted than if spoken with explosive anger.
Aldraya spoke from within the circle where she rested, from among Resolve, Will, Intent, and Ambition—still slumbering in their long sleep—within the white light that had begun to stabilize, yet still harbored a flame that would never extinguish.
And the content of her words, though delivered in the flattest tone imaginable, was nothing less than a declaration of war—one that could never be reconciled by anyone, not even by the Great Author.
She stated that Theo had absolutely no right to mediate her hatred toward Ilux, that his position as a new master who had saved her identity and direction in life granted him no authority to interfere in matters far deeper and more personal than mere conflict.
There are boundaries that must not be crossed, territories of sovereignty that must not be entered, prerogative rights inherent to every consciousness—to decide whom they may hate and how deeply that hatred may take root.
Theo listened with a face as flat as the surface of a frozen lake, yet behind that lack of expression, thousands of calculations ran at speeds beyond the measure of ordinary human time.
He understood that what he faced was not a simple rebellion, nor mere egocentrism of a being still adjusting to its new status.
This was something deeper, more fundamental, rooted in the very core of Aldraya's existence as an entity who had once been the number one Supreme Angel.
And when Aldraya continued—when she began unveiling layer after layer of reasons behind her immense, accumulated hatred toward Ilux—Theo finally grasped the scale of the tragedy that had unfolded long before this episode began.
Not merely because Ilux had intended to violate her before ultimately beheading her—though that alone was sufficient to justify eternal hatred.
Nor solely because of the attempt on her life—though death itself is the most traumatic experience any living being can endure.
There existed another layer—deeper, more complex—that bound Aldraya to a hatred that would never fade, even across billions of years.
The poison—the very essence that had nearly claimed her life—was not the final objective of Ilux's scheme.
It was merely the first step, the opening move, the gateway into something far more horrifying.
At least in the original scenario, after Aldraya fell—after her essence was destroyed by the insidiously implanted poison—the next step was to target the other twelve Supreme Angels, her brethren who had sat together upon the highest throne for billions of years, overseeing the flow of reality.
That mass murder plan was crafted with such perfection, such detail, such cruelty—it nearly succeeded, had fate not intervened to alter the course of history.
And even though the plan ultimately failed—even though the twelve Supreme Angels survived—the mere existence of that intent, that design, that attempt, remained etched within Aldraya's memory with ink that would never fade.
She could never feign ignorance, never pretend not to know, never simply forgive—when her brothers and sisters had been dragged into a scenario of death that had nearly become reality.
What may have once been a personal hatred—between victim and perpetrator—had now evolved into something greater, more sacred, bound by familial ties forged over billions of years.
In the depths of consciousness, within that silent space bearing witness to this confession, Aldraya's white light pulsed with a different rhythm.
No longer unstable as during disrupted synchronization, nor calm as when she had begun to learn rest—but steady, firm, like the heartbeat of a warrior prepared for war.
Resolve, Will, Intent, and Ambition—who had long been asleep—suddenly stirred in unison within their slumber.
Not awakening, not merely shifting, but responding in a way only the aspects of the Great Author's creativity could.
They sensed something had changed within their new member—something more solid than mere emotion, something deeper than personal vengeance.
To be continued…