The two remained silent for a long time, the atmosphere itself seeming to pause, its usual stillness warped and rippled by the constant, invisible tension emanating from them. On one side stood Veldra, the King of All Insanities, the Narrative Imbalance of All Positivity and Negativity, an existence that did not merely defy reason but rendered it irrelevant. On the other stood Veldron, simply a man, a ruler bound by responsibility, known only for having once beaten the past Lucien to the brink of death for reasons long buried and resolved.
Silence continued along its inevitable course, stretching, thickening, until it abruptly stopped, as if struck by an unseen hand.
"Oh, stop it, you two," Lucien interjected at last, his voice slicing through the oppressive stillness. "Veldron, he has said he is sorry, so please forgive him. It was only because of our past relationship that I brought him here. If not, I wouldn't have bothered."
"But, wolfy-"
"It's Lucien," Veldra growled softly. He turned his gaze toward Veldron, his expression almost entirely blank, yet laced with a mocking, beautiful smile; one that carried no warmth, no malice, only the quiet implication that everything before him had already been weighed and found wanting.
The silence returned, heavier than before, settling like a suffocating veil.
This guy is insane. I have never heard from him, and I will never allow someone to talk to me in such a manner! Three hundred thousand people in less than seconds? He truly is the King of All Insanities. But that aside, why did he kill my Holy Order? And Lucien, since he was there, why didn't he stop him? The questions churned endlessly in Veldron's mind, spiralling deeper and deeper, stressing him far beyond the deaths of the three hundred thousand people themselves. Fear, confusion, and suspicion tangled together until they became indistinguishable.
"Lucien," Veldron finally called.
"What is it, dear friend?" Lucien asked, a gentle smile forming on his face, as though the weight crushing the room did not exist.
"When your master decided to go rampant," Veldron asked carefully, each word measured, "did you just let him go? Or did you not have even the tiniest mercy, guilt, or sympathy, or even a shred of morality, to help him or stop him?"
Lucien opened his mouth to respond.
But Veldra did not remain silent.
"Hahhahhhhahahah."
The laughter burst forth, hysterical, sharp, and wrong, echoing against the walls of the chamber like fractured glass scraping against stone. Oh dear god.
"If Lucien was there, he would fight me, or stop my madness, or talk to me," Veldra said, his voice trembling not with emotion but with amusement, with recollection twisted into something grotesque. "But the sad thing was that he wasn't. He was not there to confront me."
His laughter faded, replaced by a chilling calm.
"So mind me when I say, I am sane now, and no harm shall befall upon you. Not only that, but I do apologise for the deaths, for the dread of the three hundred thousand people." His gaze sharpened, his voice lowering. "I was once like them, you see."
The last words were cut short, swallowed deliberately before they could escape fully. He did not want them to hear. He did not want them thinking he was an outerworlder, or one of those system culprits, even though he was one. He had proclaimed himself different, thus he would remain hidden.
After all, this was part of his act.
And acts, when performed well, shaped reality just as effectively as truth.
Veldron was still stunned, still wanting to ask his questions, yet he forced them down and locked them inside, waiting for what he judged to be the best time to ask. Experience had taught him that there were moments when curiosity was survival, and others when silence was the wiser choice. This was unmistakably the latter.
"With that aside, Lucien has told me I can register as a Transcender or something like that," Veldra asked casually, his tone smooth and detached, as though they were discussing routine paperwork rather than the aftermath of a massacre. "Care to explain the details?"
"It's simple," Veldron replied after a brief pause, settling back into the familiar cadence of explanation, the role of authority grounding him. "Once you become the age of sixteen, you register at the Transcenders Association. You register as a Transcender and receive quests. It could be dungeons, high towers, adventuring, collecting goods, passing information, or running errands from the Aboves." His golden eyes flickered briefly, betraying the gravity of that last title. "One can also level up, advance, earn rewards, and awaken aspects."
"Do you want to register?" Veldron asked, studying Veldra carefully, as though trying to measure the depth of the abyss before him.
So this is what Lucien meant by don't worry about that. He doesn't even care. Holy Order, my ass.
Veldra clicked his tongue softly, an almost playful sound.
"Yes."
The word fell with absolute certainty, devoid of hesitation, as though the decision had been made long before the question was ever asked.
"Alright. Follow me," Veldron said, turning on his heel.
He walked past them, his cloak shifting softly as he moved, and neither Veldra nor Lucien lagged behind. The corridors of the palace stretched and folded in upon themselves, light and shadow intertwining as though guiding them forward. In what felt like only a brief passage of time, far shorter than the distance should have allowed, they emerged before their destination.