They continued walking, the silence comfortable. But Null's voice eventually broke it, softer than before.
Null: "Before I lost everything… I think I was like you."
Elion glanced at him.
Elion: "Like me?"
Null nodded slowly.
Null: "Someone who burned for something… but I don't remember what. Maybe that's why I favor you. Your fire reminds me of mine—back when it meant something."
There was a weight to those words, like the faint echo of a tragedy long buried in time.
Null: "I created the Soul Reaper for the purpose of bringing people with that exact fire together…but nearly no one has that burning flame inside of them."
Suddenly, a loud boom echoed behind them. Joren had casually detonated a boulder just to amuse himself, limping closer while laughing.
Joren: "Aww, are we having a touching little moment here? Should I give you two some space?"
Elion hiding his laugh, but Null turned his head slightly, his divine gaze flickering for an instant.
Null (flatly): "Joren, do not test my patience."
Joren raised his hands in mock surrender, grinning.
Joren: "Fine, fine! Keep your little favorite. I'll just go blow up something else."
He wandered off, leaving the two in relative peace again.
As they neared the edge of the volcanic plains, Null stopped and looked at Elion once more.
Null: "No matter what comes next… I will always stand by you. Even if I forget everything else again."
Elion met his gaze with his usual calmness.
Elion: "Then I'll be the one to remind you who you are."
For a moment, the godlike weight of Null's existence felt lighter.
Null: "That is why I need the boy marked by heaven even more."
Elion: "Will you remember everything once the boy is in your hand?"
Null (nodding): "That I am certain."
The capital of Pyraxis, Ignarion, was unlike any other city. It was built atop a dormant supervolcano, its streets lit by rivers of molten lava that flowed through obsidian channels. The great gates—carved from black basalt and etched with ancient runes—opened slowly as two figures approached.
The first was a man of calm composure: Arthur Morningstar, Soul Reaper No. 8. The sun shined brightly on his blond hair and his black glasses reflected the glow of the city's flames, his attire crisp and regal despite the oppressive heat. He walked with deliberate, unhurried steps, a faint aura of Soul Energy surrounding him, serene yet quietly powerful.
Beside him loomed a mountain of a man—Goliath, Soul Reaper No. 10. His immense frame towered over the Pyraxis guards, his steps heavy enough to make the ground vibrate. His presence was more brute force than grace, but his sheer size and quiet menace silenced any would-be challengers. The freshly shaved head and face were not even visible, for the sun shined brightly at him.
The Flameguard stood ready in full ceremonial armor, their molten-veined weapons raised. At their head was a captain who glared at the approaching Soul Reapers.
Flameguard Captain (coldly): "By order of Highlord Zaryon, state your purpose. This city has seen enough of your kind's violence."
Arthur stopped a few paces away, meeting the captain's fiery gaze with calm, measured eyes.
Arthur: "We are not here for violence. My name is Arthur Morningstar. I come on behalf of the Soul Reapers to speak directly with your Highlord."
The Flameguard shifted uneasily. Arthur's words were polite, but his voice carried an undeniable authority.
Goliath simply crossed his arms, saying nothing, his massive silhouette casting a shadow over the guards like a moving wall.
Inside the Infernal Hall, Zaryon awaited. He still bore the weight of Null's presence, the echo of that divine suppression gnawing at his pride. The Crown of Solthar sat dimly above his head, not shining as brightly as before.
He heard the heavy doors open.
Arthur and Goliath entered the throne room, their footsteps echoing against the obsidian floor.
For a brief moment, silence reigned.
Zaryon's eyes narrowed, studying the two Soul Reapers. He recognized neither the calm diplomat nor the silent giant. But something about Arthur's presence was different—he wasn't like Null, nor the chaotic ones like Joren. He was… composed. Dangerous in a completely different way.
Arthur inclined his head slightly in a respectful gesture.
Arthur: "Highlord Zaryon. I appreciate your willingness to grant us audience after… what transpired."
Zaryon's grip on Aethernova tightened, but his voice remained steady, if colder than before.
Zaryon: "Your 'Number 0' brought humiliation to Pyraxis. He could have destroyed everything… but he didn't. Why?"
Arthur met his gaze calmly.
Arthur: "Because Null does not destroy without reason. We seek no war with Pyraxis. What happened was merely… a demonstration."
Goliath rumbled lowly but stayed silent, standing behind Arthur like an unmovable wall.
Arthur stepped closer, his tone perfectly measured—neither submissive nor arrogant.
Arthur: "We propose a truce. The Soul Reapers have no interest in enslaving your land. What we seek is simple: access to Pyraxis' Ignarite trade routes, in exchange for protection against external threats. In other words, we wish for an alliance, not domination."
Zaryon's eyes hardened.
Zaryon: "An alliance forged by fear is no alliance at all. You expect me to trust the word of those who nearly brought my kingdom to ruin?"
Arthur gave a faint smile, subtle but disarming.
Arthur: "No, Highlord. I expect you to trust what you saw. Null spared you. That was his mercy. But understand—if Pyraxis becomes our enemy, it won't be Null you'll have to face next time. It will be the others… and they will not be so merciful."
There was no malice in his voice, just cold truth.
At that moment, Goliath shifted, stepping forward just enough for his massive frame to fill the space between Arthur and Zaryon. His simple movement alone felt like a silent threat.
He cracked his knuckles, the sound echoing like distant thunder, then rumbled a few words in his deep, gravelly tone:
Goliath: "Arthur speaks for us all. Take the deal. Keep your kingdom intact."
The sheer weight of his voice was enough to make the nearby Flameguard flinch.