"Really?" The Sun God's gaze was sincere, tinged with confusion.
"Very cold," Sasrir nodded firmly, his eyes resolute.
"Alright, then." The Sun God seemed somewhat regretful. He paused, then looked at Sasrir with a faint smile. "In that case, Sasrir, I'll leave the future to you."
Sasrir's gaze sharpened. He met the Sun God's eyes and said, "You might still have a chance to return in the future."
"It's too difficult. We must prepare for the worst," The Sun God replied candidly. "If I'm destined not to return, at least you have a better chance of regaining clarity. Sasrir, you are my humanity, my other half. I trust you, just as I trust myself."
"So I believe, even without me, you'd be an excellent choice."
The mad True Creator wasn't worthy of the Sun God's trust, but a lucid Sasrir could be.
From the beginning, one reason the Sun God had allowed Sasrir to work under Alaric was that Sasrir's presence could help the True Creator regain clarity to the greatest extent possible.
The Sun God wasn't certain he could return in the future, but he could at least choose to ensure Sasrir's clarity moving forward.
Sasrir lowered his eyes, letting out what seemed like a sigh. Then he looked up at the Sun God and said, "Alright. I will regain clarity. I promise."
…
After resolving a small, fluffy issue with Roselle's family and bidding farewell to the Sun God, Alaric returned to catch up on sleep.
Summoning the Sun God had drained his spirituality significantly, and sleep was necessary for recovery.
When Alaric woke, it was already the afternoon of the next day. He tidied himself up and visited the outpost of the City of Silver and Moon City residents. He pulled Colin Iliad and the Moon City leader into a pocket dimension and brought it to the Numinous Episcopate's base.
The Numinous Episcopate's base buzzed with an atmosphere of learning. Most members were undergoing ideological training, while a few who had completed it had either become instructors or were handling various tasks.
Alaric strolled through the base, ensuring everything was in order, before heading to Medici's usual study, satisfied.
"Well, well, what breeze blew you here today? I thought you'd forgotten your poor little tool" Medici didn't even lift his head, already knowing who had entered. His tone dripped with sarcasm.
"Forget you? Impossible! I'd forget anyone before you, Red! Without you, who'd handle the mountain of work, fight my battles, or babysit…" Alaric gazed at Medici with the "affectionate" look of a boss eyeing a top-tier workhorse, his expression utterly sincere.
"Just as this world cannot lose me, I cannot lose you, Lil' Red!"
This was the honest truth. What ruthless capitalist wouldn't adore a top-tier tool like Medici?
"..."
Damn it! The more he heard, the angrier he got!
How had he, the mighty Red Angel, fallen to such a state?
Medici began to reflect. After a long moment, he gritted his teeth and spat, "It's all Adam's fault!"
If not for Adam, he wouldn't have been cooked in a hot pot. If he hadn't been cooked, he wouldn't have been saved by Alaric, nor would he have had a falling-out with the Sun God over the hot pot incident, ultimately ending up on Alaric's pirate ship.
"Here!" Alaric, ever considerate, handed him a small dagger with a sincere smile. "Go for it, Red! I support you stabbing Him in the kidney again!"
Medici's sharp, blade-like gaze shot Alaric an exasperated look, but he took the dagger anyway.
No particular reason... his hand was just itching to stab someone.
"But haven't we already settled our score?" Adam's voice came from nowhere as he appeared nearby, looking at Medici. "Medici, you haven't developed some peculiar hobby, have you? That's not good."
"Get lost!" Medici, unable to hold back, hurled the dagger.
Adam deftly dodged the blade clearly aimed at his kidney. He sighed, seemingly helpless, and shook his head. "You're getting more irritable, Medici. I didn't teach you to be like this."
"You believe I can't get even more irritable?" Medici's tone was cold enough to cut, as if he were ready to murder.
"I believe you," Adam nodded calmly.
"You…" Medici choked, grinding his teeth.
Alaric watched the scene with relish, like a spectator munching on popcorn at close range. He glanced at Adam, then at Medici, and finally asked the latter with genuine curiosity, "How long has He been like this?"
Alaric could tell Adam was livelier than at their last meeting. But this liveliness wasn't purely due to Adam's humanity. Alaric sensed a performative element, as if Adam was intentionally leaning into the persona of the former Angel of Imagination.
"Who knows? I don't keep tabs on Him. It's been going on for a while, though," Medici said, rolling his eyes in disgust. "Fake as hell."
"It's truly disheartening. I've been trying so hard to emulate the Angel of Imagination," Adam said with a theatrical sigh. "But a substitute is just a substitute... never as good as the real thing."
Medici's face twisted in revulsion.
Alaric raised an eyebrow. After a few seconds of thought, he said earnestly, "Maybe just be normal. This is kind of scary."
A lively Angel of Imagination was charming, but an Adam pretending to be lively when he wasn't gave off an eerie, almost uncanny vibe.
It was unsettling.
Adam's false cheer faded, replaced by his usual faint smile. He looked at them with mild confusion. "I thought you'd prefer me in that state."
"…" Alaric paused for a second before saying sincerely, "Put yourself in our shoes. If Amon suddenly started acting all cutesy with you, wouldn't that feel weird?"
Adam considered this, then shook his head. "I wouldn't find it weird. It'd just mean He wants something from me."
Even Alaric choked at that. He looked at Adam, thought for a moment, and said, "Alright, what if Medici started acting cutesy with you?"
At that, Medici's face darkened.
Adam's expression grew subtle. After a moment's thought, he nodded. "That would indeed be strange."
"So what's your deal?" Alaric asked, eyeing Adam curiously. "Didn't I suggest you check out those thousand faces?"
"I did," Adam said, lowering his eyes to hide the emotions within. "These days, I've been living in the East District. Sometimes I'm a dockworker carrying cargo, sometimes a street vendor…"
***
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