Barbatos stood before me, his expression straining toward composure yet betraying itself in subtle fractures, tightened eyes, a faint stiffness in his jaw, because no matter how disciplined he was, no matter how absolute his authority might be in his own world, there was something deeply unsettling about standing before a being he could neither measure nor understand, and although he did not know who I was, he understood enough to realize that he had been taken, effortlessly and without resistance, to a place that existed beyond the framework of everything he had ever known, which in itself was enough to stir both caution and curiosity within even someone like him.
For a few seconds, silence stretched between us, not empty but heavy, filled with the weight of unspoken calculations and restrained tension, until finally Barbatos spoke, his voice low and controlled, carrying that unmistakable authority that came with being the strongest among his kind, yet layered now with an edge of wariness that he could not quite suppress.
"You can help us get the students back?"
I leaned my head lightly against my fist, a slow grin forming as I regarded him with quiet amusement, then nodded with an ease that only deepened the strangeness of the situation, answering in a tone that felt almost casual in contrast to the urgency of his question.
"Of course. That would make for a far more interesting story, wouldn't it?"
His eyes narrowed at that, not in confusion but in restrained irritation, and without hesitation, he stepped forward, his massive frame casting a shadow over me as he closed the distance, his presence pressing down like a storm held barely in check.
"Do you think this is a joke?" he asked, his voice quieter now, but far more dangerous. "Those children are in danger. They could die, and yet you speak as if their lives are nothing more than entertainment, as if their suffering is just another narrative device."
I studied him for a moment, genuinely taking in the conviction behind his words, before letting out a soft chuckle that was neither mocking nor dismissive, but carried a peculiar kind of detached acknowledgment.
"Yes," I said after a brief pause, straightening slightly as I met his gaze without the slightest hint of intimidation, "you're right in that regard. I suppose I should show a bit more sympathy, shouldn't I?"
Despite the vast difference between us, something he was clearly aware of, Barbatos did not step back, did not waver, and did not bow, which in itself made him interesting in a way few others ever managed to be, and I found myself appreciating that stubborn resolve as I casually waved a hand, altering reality with such ease that it barely registered as an action, placing him into a chair across from me without any visible transition between standing and sitting.
He reacted immediately, glancing around with sharp alertness, his instincts flaring at the complete lack of cause and effect, yet before he could act on that confusion, I spoke again, my tone light, almost conversational.
"Tell you what," I continued, folding my hands loosely as I leaned back, "I'll answer one question for you. I possess all the answers you might seek, so ask me anything you like, and I'll make sure the answer is honest."
For a moment, he said nothing, instead attempting to rise from the chair through sheer will alone, yet every fraction of movement he gained was erased instantly, as if the concept of standing simply did not exist for him in that moment, forcing him to remain seated no matter how much force he applied, until eventually he exhaled slowly and accepted the limitation, shifting his attention back to me with a gaze that was steady, focused, and far more thoughtful than before.
There was something familiar in that look, something reminiscent of another creation of mine, and the comparison amused me enough to draw a faint smile as I waited.
After a brief silence, Barbatos spoke.
"Who am I?"
The question lingered between us, simple in structure yet vast in implication, and I raised a brow slightly before reaching for my tea, taking a slow sip as I regarded him over the rim of the cup.
"That will be your question?" I asked, allowing him to reconsider.
He paused, clearly weighing the value of countless possible alternatives, before ultimately nodding with quiet certainty.
"Yes."
I smiled faintly at that, lowering the cup as I prepared my answer.
"You are the twenty-first son of a being known only as 'He,'" I said calmly, my tone measured, deliberate. "Very little is known about him within your existence, and yet, in a way, everything is known about him at the same time."
The answer was intentionally incomplete, wrapped in ambiguity by design, and as expected, Barbatos's eyes widened for a fraction of a second before narrowing again, his mind already working to dissect the implications, though I could tell he understood that pressing further on that particular thread would yield little.
"I expected a barrage of questions," I added, tilting my head slightly. "This is… unexpected."
He ignored that observation, shifting instead to something more immediate.
"What is this place?" he asked. "It's unlike anything I've ever seen."
I let out a chuckle before answering, my voice softening just slightly.
"This is what's called white space," I explained. "The boundary between fiction and reality."
He absorbed that in silence, offering only a restrained, thoughtful "I see," though it was clear he did not fully grasp the concept, nor was he meant to, not yet.
Without further comment, I lifted my hand and formed a small object within it, a simple device by his standards, though far more significant than its appearance suggested, then extended it toward him.
"Take this," I said. "Give it to Caesar. It contains the coordinates of the realm where your students are being held. However, there are limitations: no more than five paragons may enter, and the point of entry will be random. Unfortunately, even I am not permitted to break the rules governing that place."
He accepted the object cautiously, examining it with a critical eye before looking back at me, suspicion still present, though now tempered with reluctant trust.
"Are you a god?" he asked, the question direct, almost blunt.
I laughed softly at that, not out of mockery but genuine amusement.
"A god?" I repeated. "No… not quite. Though I suppose you could say I'm something adjacent to that."
It was the truth, in its own way, even if it was far from the full picture.
After a moment, I stood, brushing the thought of the conversation aside as one might close a book after finishing a chapter.
"This has been enjoyable," I said, my tone light once more, "but it's time for you to return, wouldn't you agree?"
He hesitated only briefly before nodding.
"Yes. Thank you… for this."
I stepped closer, placing a hand on his shoulder in a gesture that was almost human, almost familiar, and smiled faintly.
"The pleasure was mine," I replied. "Now then… goodbye."