Eleanor's eyes searched the now-empty hallway fervently, her mouth moving before she could even realize what she was saying.
"T-that person is like Aaron…"
Looking ahead, she noticed Humility continuing onward as if nothing had happened, her mind racing fast.
Did he not see him?
A slight tinge of unease filled her chest, yet she soon decided to shrug it off.
The incident had already occurred, and the figure had vanished, so what else was there to do?
Sighing, she followed the man at a safe distance, her eyes focused on the floor even as the elder turned his head to the back, staring at her oddly.
His expression was unreadable as he examined the blank-faced child who didn't notice his watchful gaze, his lips curling.
In a voice quieter than what Eleanor could hear, he whispered a single name under his breath.
"Aaron…"
…
The two arrived outside a rather average-looking door, one even more modest than the one leading into Eleanor's own room.
To the blonde girl, this certainly didn't seem like the residence of a Sea King; however, against her own opinions, the Angel knocked on the door.
"Norman. You have a guest."
CRASH!
The sound of heavy items falling from a decent height echoed through the hall, the elderly Angel sighing as he rubbed his nose.
"I'll be entering now."
Without another word, he turned the handle, unlocking it with a flash of light and pushing his way inside.
Eleanor followed closely behind, keeping her eyes low to prevent seeing something she would live to regret.
Fortunately for her, the former King of Dreams simply lay buried beneath a pile of books, with a shelf lying atop him.
"Were you dream-walking again?"
As if the scene was perfectly ordinary, Humility grabbed the edge of the bookshelf, making it dissolve into light for long enough so the man could stand up, then letting it materialize again.
He bore long purple hair and a grisly burn scar over his eye, one valiantly earned in a siege during the Oblivacis incident that defined his era.
Standing straight, he was only slightly taller than the 1.7-meter girl, his teal eyes gleaming and a battered armor poking out of a long cloak that barely covered it.
"Hello, sir."
Eleanor had unconsciously addressed him in a fairly casual tone, the man's actions causing her to forget about the usual formalities observed while speaking to someone of his status.
Norman responded with a nod, his brow furrowing as he stared into the girl's eyes ferociously.
"You're from the Sea of Dreams? That would explain the aura of a nightmare plaguing you."
The Angel of Humility laughed quietly as he took a seat in the corner of the room, completely distancing himself from this conversation.
He had felt he had intervened too much with Twynam, and therefore, as the girl faced an even more influential figure that could affect the potency of her corruption to a much greater extent, he refrained from interjecting.
"How has the homeland been? Infinium doesn't get many visitors, or frankly, new arrivals, other than every few years or so. The Angels are tight-lipped as well unless I seek an answer directly."
Shooting a weak glare at the man in the corner, he sighed hard, then noticed the girl's body stiffen.
"Not good, eh?"
The former Sea King closed his eyes, feeling the world pulsing around him.
"My former apprentice has yet to perish, so I assume it must be well enough. He mustn't be too pleased though…"
He referred to the man who now ruled over the Sea of Dreams in his place, The Dreamer himself, Lepaie Thalor Quinn.
Eleanor watched his mixed feelings contort his expression before settling into resigned contempt.
"Tsk… Madness ripped me away from the world far too soon. I would've quelled any disaster no matter the cost!"
Without the blonde-haired girl even saying a thing, the man began to berate himself for the catastrophe that he could sense had occurred in his former kingdom.
Norman Reed was a man of little need, who had never wedded nor sired children, yet, even in his darkest of moments, he never turned his back on his people.
Fighting against Apex-level terrors as if they were mere pests gained him the unique moniker as The Hunter, one that had been retired by the Association after his death.
"Sir Reed…"
Eleanor spoke up, interrupting the man's sorrow.
"Would you like to hear what happened?"
She stared straight at his face, her gaze unwavering as his teal eyes bored holes through her skull.
"Yes… Perhaps Lepaie had unavoidable reasons for failing so dramatically…"
Nodding as if agreeing with the words he had said, he gestured for the girl to begin her story, beginning with her return to Sea Fallen after getting kidnapped by the pirates and ending with her subsequent death.
Apart from her own story, she also shared the little knowledge passed on from those she had met in the Great Beyond.
When she finished, the man simply rubbed his forehead, exhaling hard.
"How sad."
There was no emotion behind his words—only his stone-cold posture and the ever-so-slight paleness in his face alerted the girl to his true emotions.
He's restraining his sorrow for my sake… When I leave, he'll break down.
While he was a being at the highest of levels, he was still human, his heart not wide enough to contain the endless despair.
"Sir, should I leave now?"
She looked at him with worry, his eyes twinkling with erratic sparks of magenta.
"No… Flock and Drynch hardly visit, and the other Kings are drunk or banished to Hell."
In the corner, Humility grumbled something under his breath, missed by Eleanor but caught by the former King of Dreams.
He chuckled humorlessly before turning his gaze back to the priestess.
"Do you remember the fountain in the middle of Sea Fallen? The one with the featureless statue of the First King?"
Eleanor gently bit her lip while trying to recall the place, the memory vague, since she had little reason to wander there while fulfilling her role as a priestess.
"Yes. I used to play there with my friends from the orphanage before the war."
Norman smiled, his eyes glazing over as he began to speak.
"It was the most beautiful thing I had ever designed myself. When the artisans insisted I let them create a masterpiece fitting Heaven itself, I declined, mandating that I, the King of these Seas, would be the one to depict the First King himself."
The blonde-haired girl mirrored his grin, a calm sense of tranquility settling over her as she listened to the man talk about her home.
"Heh… The children used to throw coins into it and wish for a miracle, but when I happened to hear their silly wishes, I would silently laugh. One child, a particularly weak one, begged for the power of a King to defend themselves from her bullies. I gave her that power, albeit in the form of dreams."
His expression cracked, revealing true emotions beneath his formerly restrained smile, and visible joy spread across his face.
Eleanor felt a piece of her anguish—the scalding, searing pain within her chest that burned each time she thought about the man who had slain deities—melt away like ice.
Her breath steadied, her complexion returning closer to her original beauty, even the tiniest of bits.
The corruption…
She hardly paid any attention to the feeling, though, focusing on the man's words with her heart fully invested.
After a few minutes of listening as he recalled the oddest details about his life in Sea Fallen, she felt like she should repay him with a story of her own.
"Sir Reed, are you familiar with the Tale of the Nine Clergy?"
He shook his head, an intrigued grim widening his lips.
"No, perhaps you could enlighten me?"
There was a pause as Eleanor took a deep breath, preparing for a long speech.
"Once upon a time, nine priests stood within one cathedral. All nine of their own cathedrals had been destroyed in a great crusade, their congregations slaughtered, and their holy temples wrought with sin. They arrived at the last bastion of the church within their city, the bishop of the cathedral missing."
The purple-haired man nodded, his brain working as he tried to anticipate where the story was going.
"They began to argue who should claim the title of bishop and take up control over the central cathedral, all but one of their minds taken away because of the impending crusade beyond the walls. Three of the priests were greedy, each deciding that they would be the one to take control alone. Another two showed their resentment for those who had destroyed their congregations, their aim to control the cathedral, and kill the ones who had wronged them. Three others were proud of their survival after escaping from their falling cathedrals, their lives the only things they cared for, their only desire to savor every last second they remained alive, no matter how fleeting."
Eleanor slowly decreased the intensity of her voice until it was akin to a whisper, barely loud enough to enter the Sea King's ears.
Across the room, Humility sat with his eyes closed, listening to the story with keen focus.
"The last of the priests stood alone with purity in his heart and wondrous intentions for the cathedral in his mind. He remained silent, though, as the others argued, he was forced to listen to their rants while the cathedral doors trembled under the battering ram of the heretics. The situation escalated rapidly, and the three of pride attacked the greedy, killing each other in the process while gravely injuring those who were wrathful. In the end, only the single priest who stood alone was left unscathed, his fear waning and his heart thumping as if the whole world was exploding inside his chest. He stood there for a while, staring over the fallen brothers whom he had respected for decades. Eventually, his face twitched, and his mind stirred. And a moment later, a laugh erupted from his mouth."
At that, both listening men showed signs of confusion, the 'pure priest's' actions clearly not natural considering what they were told of his character.
"Why did he laugh? Was he silently a sinner as well? Or perhaps he was happy that the ones who had been arguing were dead?"
Humility was the one who spoke up, a previously unseen look of fascination pulling aside the wrinkles of his frail skin.
"No."
Eleanor shook her head solemnly.
"The last member was indeed a man of holy principle, and he did not laugh out of joy or resentment, but rather, out of sorrow. There was nothing he could do as the cathedral doors broke and the hall instantly filled with crusaders who brutally attacked him without restraint. They tied his legs, hung him above an open flame, and threw rocks at him until he lost all strength in his body and finally his consciousness as well. His face melted and his bones seared, his life taken away in gruelling pain."
She let out a hollow laugh, her eyes reflecting a dark flicker of her own madness.
"The other priests had died swiftly, their deaths mercifully painless, unlike the noble man who had to suffer for hours on end. In his final moments, he showed only one sin to the Lord who watched over him. Envious of their quick deaths, envious of their foolishness, envious of their weakness when the end came. He was the most honest of priests, yet in the end, he met a fate befitting a sinner."
Her voice trailed off as she watched the former Sea King's jaw tighten, then relax, his body leaning hard against his chair.
Humility simply sighed, his own gaze focused on the ceiling as his cosmic eyes seemed to wander.
"Why tell such a story to children? Does it not inspire the clergy to abandon their values in pursuit of a better death?"
Norman asked the question, and the blonde girl replied without emotion.
"Many come to believe that regardless of the suffering we endure as mortals, once our souls leave our bodies and we enter death, are we not all equal? In reality, there is nothing that sets you apart from me except our places of residence and our experiences. Some might even say that the story of the eight traitorous clergy and the single honorbound one teaches us that there is no such fairness in life. The only certainty is in the fact that one will face death at the end. An equal demise, one that is unchangeable for all. They say it should give us peace, inspire us to not give in to our desires even when they might seem like the easy way out. It grants us clarity when our morals are put into question."
The teal-eyed man nodded, his expression softening as he focused his gaze on the priestess before him.
"Then, if there are multiple interpretations of this tale, which one do you prefer?"
While the Sea King was the one to ask, the Angel in the corner seemed especially interested in her reply, his wings twitching as he leaned in to listen.
Eleanor smiled, cloaked in the shadow made by the flickering of the candlelight, her voice coming out with an ethereal quality truly resembling an Angel in that one peculiar moment.
"I think that the Nine Clergymen were all pious fools who didn't understand their Lord well enough."
She paused, meeting the eyes of both men one after another.
"The God of Depths helps those who help themselves. And those who tarnish his name with their sins have no place in his aquatic halls."