Aestrea stared at the outstretched hand, not moving for a few seconds.
For a long moment, the only sound in the chamber was the low hum of Octo's machines and the faint, artificial pulse running through the walls.
"Haah..."
Aestrea let out a slow breath.
He lowered his gaze slightly, looking not at Octo's face, but at the hand itself. The fingers. The trembling anticipation.
The desperation hidden beneath confidence.
"…Rule with you?" Aestrea finally spoke.
"Yes," Octo spokeeagerly. "With me. We end the cycle. No more corrections. No more blood on your hands. You'll never have to descend again."
Aestrea lifted his eyes.
Moon-shaped pupils locked onto Octo's gaze.
"What a joke..." he shook his head lightly.
"You seem to be misunderstanding something," he then added.
"Oh?" Octo tilted his head.
"I don't give a single fuck about whatever it happes to this world. And I don't erase gods because they're inconvenient."
He took a single step forward.
