"I saw you holding back a laugh." Alaric said, shooting Klein a sidelong glance, then turning to Medici with a brilliant grin.
He wasn't about to let the instigator off the hook.
But compared to the others, making Medici eat a sour orange was a tall order. The living room erupted into chaos as the two launched into a chase.
"Is it that sour?" Lil' Amon eyed the remaining orange in Will's hand, curiosity mixed with a daring glint, embodying the spirit of tempting fate.
"Want to find out? Try it." Will egged him on, grinning like a mischievous kid or a wicked queen offering a poisoned apple.
"No, don't... it's really sour, and a bit bitter too…" Klein interjected, still recovering from the tartness after gulping sweet iced tea. He didn't want Amon to suffer the same fate.
Klein, after all, had a conscience.
"But everyone else tried it…" Amon hesitated, then hopped off the sofa, scampered to the kitchen, and returned with a large glass of milk. He popped an orange slice into his mouth.
His face instantly twisted into an expression of existential doubt.
When Azik came downstairs, he found the group huddled secretively around the coffee table, their expressions oddly complex.
"What's going on?" Azik asked, puzzled.
No one spoke, just beckoned him over.
And so, the sour orange claimed another victim.
By the time Alaric, in his Lucifer persona, descended the stairs, Azik had joined the table. Alaric shook his head at the group, clearly plotting to prank him, and smiled. "Love sour oranges that much? Should I buy a few pounds for each of you to savor slowly?"
The group exchanged sheepish looks.
Alaric sat across from Azik, smiling. "Ready?"
Azik, still reeling from the orange, blinked, remembering his purpose. He nodded, his gaze gentle but resolute. "I'm ready."
"Good." Alaric said, snapping his left hand with a sharp crack. A familiar figure reappeared in this era.
"What's the principle behind this…?" Will, witnessing Alaric summon a Shadow of Time for the first time, watched intently but grew more confused, unable to grasp how it worked.
Medici, accustomed to the sight, didn't bother pondering it. He studied the Death Consul, an unfamiliar figure, then scoffed, a thought crossing his mind.
Klein was purely nervous. To him, Azik was like a father, and facing another battle with divinity and past fusion... where one misstep could spell disaster... left him on edge.
"Two Uncle Aziks?" Lil' Amon was just confused. He rubbed his eyes, glancing between Azik and the Death Consul, then tugged the latter's sleeve, asking earnestly, "Are you Uncle Azik's twin brother?"
The Death Consul, freshly awakened in this future, froze at Amon's question. Noticing the room's eyes on him, even his near-blank state couldn't quell a flicker of unease. His puzzled gaze swept the group, landing on Lucifer. "What's wrong? Is something off about me?"
"Nothing to do with you. They're just being weird." Alaric, as Lucifer, said with a smile.
"…Oh." The Death Consul said, seeming relieved. He looked down at Lil' Amon and paused.
As the Death Consul of the Balam Empire, he knew of Duke Amon from the Tudor Empire and had read many texts about him. Facing this small Amon, he hesitated, unsure what was happening.
"Don't think of him as Amon. Just treat him as a kid named Amon." Alaric, as Lucifer, explained.
The Death Consul relaxed. He preferred avoiding the real Amon. From their few encounters and the texts he'd read, he knew Amon was no saint.
After a moment's thought, he looked at Lil' Amon, answering seriously, "Not a twin. I'm also Azik... his past."
"Wow!" Amon blinked, his face lighting up with awe, though it was unclear if he understood.
Having answered, the Death Consul looked at Lucifer, smiling faintly with genuine warmth. "We meet again, friend."
"Indeed. Looks like you've been doing well." Alaric, as Lucifer, said, his smile carrying a touch of sincerity. He studied the Death Consul, noting a clear difference from their last meeting.
If the previous Death Consul was a hollow puppet, this one had been filled with something... not much, but undeniably present.
"Your mask helped a lot." The Death Consul said, nodding with a pleased smile. "When I returned, I felt emotions for the first time. It was good. I liked it."
"Not bad, then." Alaric said, unsurprised. He regarded the Death Consul, both as a sculptor eyeing a rough-hewn work and a friend, smiling. "Has Death noticed your changes?"
"No. Father rarely pays attention to me." The Death Consul said, shaking his head. Then, as if recalling something, he added, "He's been busy lately. He allied with the Primordial Demoness, planning something important."
The room's mood shifted.
Everyone, save Lil' Amon, knew history well enough to grasp the implications... Death and the Primordial Demoness's alliance heralded the Pale Disaster.
"Tch, that era." Medici muttered, displeased. He'd never respected Salinger, and the idea of Salinger using a tributary of the River of Eternal Darkness to host the Red Priest's uniqueness irked him.
Worse, it likely led to the Red Priest's uniqueness being tainted by the river... a disaster for Medici.
***
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