An unknown universe is always enticing, but it's precisely because it's unknown that one must be cautious.
Tet knew exactly how much power that man still held after stepping down from the throne, not to mention he had Tet gift and that Elf who could drive an entire race forward on her own. If they needed to send a distress signal with that kind of setup... what on earth had that guy done in the new world?
Did he directly provoke the Creator of that world?
It sounded absurd, but considering the guy's track record, it wasn't impossible. You could only say that gold shines wherever it is... well, maybe that's a bit inappropriate.
"So? Ready to go? There's plenty of time. You can think about what you want to bring~"
Turning his focus back to Jibril, Tet asked happily.
"..."
Silent, Jibril suddenly found herself at a loss. The words and desires she had vented suddenly had a chance of coming true. It was like a poor man screaming at the gods for a fortune only for the gods to actually appear and offer it.
Shock, confusion, and even wondering if it was too late to change her wish.
"Do not regret the past, and do not be troubled by your longing. What you desire is no longer a hypothetical, but a real opportunity before you—will you go?"
Understanding Jibril confusion, Tet asked again, slowly.
Jibril... she turned her head toward the Master she had served since the day of her birth, her Creator.
Was that longing in her eyes? Or reluctance? Or an inability to choose?
Just like everything he had once discovered in his most precious wing, such complex emotions had never before appeared in a Flügel. With his power as a Old Zeus, Artosh suddenly found he couldn't distinguish everything in that gaze—once again, he discovered a place where he was weak.
Is it this emotion, this heart, that allowed them to defeat me?
"Ahem~ while it might be inappropriate for an outsider like me to say this~ I know that in many races, including humans, they let their children go out into the world once they grow up~."
"That way, the child finds their own life, sees things they'd never see otherwise, and ultimately has a life that belongs only to them—a life no one else can copy."
"Well, it's just something among mortal races, but I think the essence remains the same even at the level of a Old Zeus~. Artosh, what do you think?"
Speaking with a look of profound wisdom, Tet even pulled his hat down as if trying to look more mature. However, his youthful face and frame only made the plan fail, making him look comical instead.
"My most precious wing... you want to go, do you not?"
Ignoring Tet, Artosh looked at Jibril prostrate in the hall. Though it was a question, it was delivered as a statement.
"...I... I don't know..." Lowering her head again, Jibril looked almost helpless. The pink-haired Flügel mind was a mess.
No race could understand Artosh's heart better than the Flügel, and only they knew how lonely their God had been when the war ended and the man who defeated him vanished—even if they hadn't even had a full conversation.
Afraid He would die, afraid He would destroy His own God-Core because He lost hope for the future, afraid He couldn't accept a world without violence and war... the Flügel always feared these things.
Including Jibril.
What she feared even more was a certain future: when Artosh chose self-destruction, the Flügel would surely follow suit, unable to accept such a reality.
There was no doubt about it; that is what these cruel, simple lives would do.
Jibril didn't want to see her Master fall, nor did she want to see her dear sisters die—she refused a future where she couldn't hear their noise.
"My most precious wing... are you worried?"
"My Lord, there is no—"
"Worried for me."
Before Jibril could finish her hasty denial, Artosh's steady voice continued.
"Do not worry for me. Go, my most precious wing."
Standing up from his throne, Artosh arrived in front of Jibril in the next second. He made her look up and stand to face him.
"Find that unknown world for me. Find a world where we can release our nature—you are free."
He spoke calmly, uttering words that would make any ordinary Flügel feel abandoned and unwanted, perhaps even leading them to suicide. Yet there was no ripple in Artosh's voice.
The "finding a new world" was merely an excuse, a fact both Tet and Jibril understood.
Free—The pink-haired Flügel mouth hung open in a daze. She had never imagined such a thing. Yet, hearing those words, beyond the reluctance, she felt... an anticipation for the unknown?
"If one wishes to become strong, one should not have a master. Only a free will can birth a truly strong existence."
"My most precious wing... no, Jibril. Go."
"Go and grow stronger. Rule yourself with your own will until you are an independent individual capable of defeating me—I shall await your return."
This was a blessing, a blessing from Artosh.
"At that time, we must have a grand slaughter, haha, Hahahaha!"
Finally no longer calm, Artosh seemed to see that scene. He laughed heartily toward the sky.
Staring blankly at her God... her former God, Jibril wanted to lower her head and say something respectful, but the words he had just spoken locked her neck, preventing her from bowing. Ultimately, she could only murmur a response.
"...Yes."
On this day, three thousand years after the war ended, Jibril was granted a free life.