Seraphel stared at Aestrea for several seconds.
"You truly don't understand," Seraphel said at last.
"Balance is not cruelty. Balance is mercy refined."
Aestrea didn't move.
Seraphel continued, taking a slow step forward, golden light flowing softly from his halo and wings, bathing the ruined land in a sense of righteousness.
"The universe is built on scales," he said. "Life and death. Order and chaos. Creation and destruction. When one side grows too heavy, everything collapses."
His gaze hardened slightly.
"You," he said, pointing at Aestrea, "are probably the fastest god to ascend through the ranks. A corrective force born outside the system. Useful, yes, but ultimately destabilizing."
Aestrea chuckled at his words
"So this is how the Primordial Court talks now?" he muttered.
"Pretty words. Clean logic... but no sense of responsibility."
Seraphel's brow furrowed.
"You confuse responsibility with sentiment," he replied.
