Patolli had taken the name "Licht" to honor his fallen idol, and he had founded the Eye of the Midnight Sun with one single, terrifying objective in mind.
Revenge. Absolute, total annihilation of the human race in the Clover Kingdom.
The grand speech he had just given Valtos? The promise of an equitable world for the discriminated? The beautiful vision of outcasts thriving in harmony?
It was all a masterful, incredibly sick lie.
Patolli did not care about the human outcasts. He did not care about Valtos, or Rades, or Sally. To Patolli, every single human being in the Clover Kingdom carried the tainted, sinful blood of the murderers who had slaughtered his family five hundred years ago. They were all guilty. They were all vermin.
He had specifically targeted the outcasts, the broken, and the resentful humans like Valtos because their pain made them easy to manipulate. They were desperate for a savior, desperate for a cause, and Patolli had given them exactly what they wanted to hear.
The promise of being "reborn" into their "true forms" was the cruelest joke of all.
Patolli's master plan involved gathering the ancient Magic Stones. Once all the stones were placed into the sefirot tablet, he would activate a massive, forbidden Reincarnation Spell that encompassed the entire kingdom.
But the spell was not designed to elevate the humans.
When Patolli told his followers that they would take their "true forms," he meant that the dormant souls of his massacred elven brethren would be forcibly pulled from the afterlife and thrust into the bodies of the human members. The spell would entirely erase the human souls—obliterating Valtos's mind, his memories, and his existence—replacing him completely with an angry, vengeful elf.
Valtos and the other human members of the Eye of the Midnight Sun were not the architects of a new dawn.
They were sacrificial pawns. They were nothing more than flesh vessels, batteries waiting to be consumed by the very spell they were fighting so desperately to activate. Patolli was using the humans to dig their own graves, manipulating their loyalty to orchestrate their own utter erasure.
The Present.
Patolli, perfectly maintaining the facade of the benevolent Licht, looked down at the human kneeling before him. The tragic irony of the situation did not move him. The elves had suffered; now, the humans would pay the price.
"Do you understand now, Valtos?" Patolli asked, his voice returning to a firm, yet compassionate tone as he stood back up. "Do you see the grand tapestry we are weaving?"
Valtos nodded fervently, his dark eyes shining with renewed tears. "I do, Master. I do. Your vision is flawless."
"Then you must also understand the heavy, terrible burden of our reality," Patolli continued, his expression turning somber. He paced back toward the sefirot tablet. "To build a perfect world, the old, corrupted one must be completely destroyed. The foundation of the Clover Kingdom is rotten to its very core. You ask why Rades must harvest the villagers? Why we must target the weak alongside the strong?"
Patolli turned back, his golden eyes blazing with a calculated, righteous fire.
"Because the peasants are the foundation of the noble's power," Patolli explained, weaving his manipulative logic with masterful precision. "The nobles do not farm. They do not build. They survive solely because the peasants bow their heads and offer up the fruits of their labor. The villagers may seem innocent, Valtos, but their compliance is what allows the Magic Knights and the royals to maintain their oppressive grip on this world."
Patolli raised a hand, pointing toward the ceiling, toward the world above.
"If we only strike the nobles, the system will eventually rebuild itself," Patolli stated coldly. "The roots of the diseased tree run deep. To truly cleanse the soil, the entire tree must be uprooted. The villagers, the merchants, the royals... they are all part of the same, corrupted organism. For our ultimate aim to be realized, for our new, equitable world to be born, sacrifices are absolutely necessary. The old world must end so that you may all take your true forms."
Patolli walked back to Valtos, looking down at him with an expression of profound, heavy expectation.
"Can you bear this burden, Valtos?" Patolli asked softly. "Can you accept that the path to salvation is paved with the ashes of the old world? Or will you let the misguided empathy of our enemies turn you away from the dawn?"
The words washed over Valtos like a tidal wave of divine truth.
The golden light of the sanctuary seemed to burn brighter, searing away the complexities and the confusing logic of the outside world. Here, in the presence of his master, everything was simple. Everything had a purpose. The Red Hood leader had spoken of protecting the soil, of showing mercy to the kind... but the Red Hood leader was blind. The Red Hood leader didn't know the glorious truth of the Midnight Sun. He didn't know about the rebirth.
Valtos felt the heavy, burdensome guilt that had been gnawing at his chest evaporate. The slaughter in Oakhaven, the terrifying shrieks of the villagers, the grotesque nature of Rades's army... it was all suddenly reframed. It wasn't senseless murder. It was a necessary, unavoidable phase of the great purification. It was the painful surgery required to cut out the tumor of the Clover Kingdom.
"I can bear it, Lord Licht," Valtos declared, his voice ringing with absolute, fanatical clarity. He pressed his fist over his heart, bowing so deeply his mask nearly brushed the floor. "I was a fool to let the words of a misguided fanatic cloud my judgment. The old world must burn. I will not hesitate again. I will open the gates to the Royal Capital, and I will not shed a single tear for those who fall."
Patolli smiled, a genuine, beautiful expression that perfectly masked the cold, elven triumph in his heart. The pawn had been secured. The vessel was ready for the sacrifice.
"I knew I could rely on you, Valtos," Patolli praised warmly. "You are the key that will unlock our salvation. Go now. Rest, and prepare your mana. The day of judgment approaches rapidly."
"By your will, Master," Valtos whispered reverently.
He stood up, his posture rigid and disciplined once more. He bowed one final time to the radiant figure, then turned and walked toward the heavy wooden doors. He pushed them open and stepped back out into the dark, damp, labyrinthine corridors of the subterranean hideout.
The heavy doors clicked shut behind him, cutting off the brilliant golden light of the sanctuary.
Valtos walked through the gloom, surrounded by the floating rocks and the luminescent moss. His steps were purposeful. His mind felt clear, washed clean by the baptism of Licht's grand speech. He was ready to execute his mission perfectly. He would transport the zombie army. He would open the portals directly into the heart of the noble realm. He would watch the Magic Knights fall, secure in the knowledge that he was ushering in a perfect, equitable world where he would finally take his true, elevated form.
He was completely and utterly devoted.
And yet...
As Valtos navigated the twisting, silent corridors, moving deeper into the shadows of the base, the absolute, blinding certainty of the sanctuary began to faintly, ever so slightly, recede.
He was alone with his thoughts now. The hypnotic cadence of Licht's voice was no longer echoing in his ears. The cold, damp reality of the cavern around him was a stark contrast to the divine warmth he had just left.