"Do you think it would've been better to lure Grey Serpent into abandoning Jackal and Raven, and then proceed exactly as I described?"
Otto's pupils widened slightly, as if a sudden thought had struck him. He turned to Cecilia.
"Wait—never mind that. Kallen above… have I corrupted Schicksal's Saintess?"
The silver-haired woman lowered her head, rolling her eyes upward to look at him. Her pink lips curved, slightly parted. On her exquisitely beautiful face—where dignity intertwined with charm—there was now a trace of girlish playfulness.
"However Brother judges it, so it shall be."
A familiar warmth rose in her heart.
In the past, during their travels, she had been just as free and lively before Otto.
Even when she surpassed him in the games he treasured most, the only punishment she received was a harmless honorary title—and in the end, she was even granted an extra day of vacation.
Once a year, that alone had been a great kindness.
Cecilia was never ungrateful. The title of Schicksal's Saintess granted her honor and authority; in return, it naturally restricted a measure of her freedom. That was only fair.
And beyond that fairness, the additional joy Otto gave her—the favoritism none other possessed—had once filled the young girl with overwhelming happiness.
It had been a tranquil youth. Something to cherish, to indulge in—perhaps even to foolishly wish eternal.
Yes.
Foolishly.
Eternal.
"You, honestly," Otto rolled his eyes at her, though without any real displeasure. "Still in need of discipline."
The golden-haired man smiled just as she did—but the warmth did not reach his eyes.
He knew. He knew better than anyone—
The more distant something is, the more illusory it becomes.
The more illusory, the more beautiful it seems.
And the more beautiful, the more it is missed.
Otto understood her thoughts.
And he held them in his grasp.
The Apocalypse family had never been radiant. From the dawn of civilization, that had been their gift.
"Intrigue and schemes—those are methods used when one seeks to dismantle and destroy."
Supporting Cecilia, he guided her back to the place where he had been thinking earlier and opened the door. Rita had already departed.
"We need not resort to that. Given Schicksal's scale, any form of direct confrontation with World Serpent would merely waste our resources."
Of course—that was before Kevin returned to full strength.
Below Finality, Deliverance was invincible. That had been common knowledge fifty thousand years ago.
If Kevin were to return to World Serpent now and regain his power, the entirety of the Current Era's combat forces combined would not suffice against that old monster.
Not that there weren't ways to weaken him…
But even if Otto calculated flawlessly and reduced Kevin to a sliver of strength, the man could still thrash the entire era in countless ways.
Otto's thoughts raced as he helped Cecilia onto the sofa.
"Little Cecilia, surely you don't think that what I said is something World Serpent can simply resolve on their own?"
He posed the question—then answered it with a shake of his head.
"If they could, they wouldn't be called World Serpent. They'd be called Schicksal Serpent. They simply cannot maintain absolute loyalty while sustaining a sufficiently large body of believers."
"Why?" Cecilia blinked, her sea-green eyes wide with curiosity.
"Because humans possess selfishness."
Otto resumed his seat and explained patiently.
"When I speak of selfishness, I include the most basic desire—to survive. I also include the seemingly selfless desire to realize one's own value. Religion, at its earliest stage, always capitalizes heavily on this 'selfishness.'"
His fingers tapped lightly against the tabletop as he retrieved a mug and milk powder from Void Archives' storage space.
"In the end, throughout a human life, it is the 'heart' that guides the greater part of one's time. No text, formula, law, faith, or doctrine can accomplish what the heart can. If even the most exalted religion cannot follow the heart—cannot satisfy the self—then it will inevitably decline."
"But there are always those who live because of faith."
Cecilia gazed at him steadily, her voice soft.
In her gentle, water-like eyes lay countless emotions—or perhaps all of them had been distilled into a pure devotion.
"…Of course. We must not underestimate reverence for the sublime."
Otto's hand paused briefly before resuming its slow stirring of the milk.
"Unfortunately, though faith may be plentiful, for most people it merely governs their instincts. Yes—selfishness. Instinct."
He spoke almost admiringly before continuing calmly,
"Selfless faith is rare, Cecilia. When the revered Son of Man walked toward the cross, his devout disciple denied him. When Kallen ascended the gallows, there was no one who ran for her sake—except me."
"At the deepest level, reality, nature, and even faith itself all reduce to the self for human beings. No matter how lofty a church's doctrine may be, there will always be those with selfish desires. And where selfishness exists, betrayal will follow."
He handed the milk to Cecilia.
She hesitated, then accepted it uncertainly, lowering her gaze.
"Little Cecilia, do you understand what I mean? There's no need to answer immediately."
…Is he asking me?
Cecilia frowned faintly, unaccustomed to this. She did not respond at once.
She was not foolish. She understood the literal meaning of his words almost instantly.
And yet—she did not.
She understood what he said.
But not what lay behind it.
It sounded convoluted, but it was simple enough:
Otto was speaking too much.
Of course, she did not dislike it. She enjoyed having a voice by her side; it made life feel vivid.
—Though, when the Bishop combed her hair in silence, she had liked that too…
Very well. She admitted it. Sound or silence did not matter.
What mattered was that he was there.
Still—
Why was he explaining so much now?
Why was he laying bare Otto Apocalypse's thoughts, speaking with near sincerity, detailing everything so thoroughly that she felt almost overwhelmed?
In the past, he had guided her to think, to analyze, to understand—
But never with such frankness. Never with such patient exposition.
Back then, his words were concise and refined. They led her. Taught her. Helped her grow.
And that treatment had not been exclusive to her. As leader of Schicksal, Otto extended such mentorship to any Valkyrie of exceptional potential.
But now—
Now he prepared milk for her, dissected himself piece by piece before her, laid out every thought and intention for her to understand and empathize with.
That kind of openness—
Wasn't it reserved for those truly close?
Cecilia stirred the milk gently. As she brushed her hair back, her arm passing before her eyes, she stole a cautious glance at him.
Otto was watching her with a faint smile. His emerald eyes were as inscrutable as ever—
Yet within them was a small reflection of her.
Her heartbeat quickened ever so slightly.
Was Brother… showing her his inner world?
Was he allowing her to step closer—
To truly understand him?
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