After the Scream – 1 billion universes remaining

"You're not the same, Jason," were Gael's first words.

They were sitting around a small wooden table. The ceiling was also made of wood, and the walls were stone. There were no precious materials here, nothing truly resilient, just the bare necessities. There was no trace of modernity or technology—no heating, no electricity, not even running water.

"That's true, but I could say the same about you. Last time I saw you, you were the protector of Voss, but judging by your relocation, that seems to have changed," replied Jason in a dull tone.

"Well, life is always full of surprises, and changes often come unannounced," Gael continued, his face adorned with a slight smile.

Behind their slight smiles, they had reached an understanding. The past would remain in the past because neither man wanted to talk about it.

Jason then began to share the reason for his visit:

"I need the contact information and last known location of all the Monarchs you've encountered during your existence."

"And what do I get in return?"

Gael's face remained impassive, though Jason could detect a touch of incredulity in his eyes.

Jason continued:

"The opportunity to become the sixth member of a secret society whose goal is to purge the universes of their impurities."

"So, killing people."

Gael's response was now cold. He understood that this society wanted to deal with criminals and other filth, but several points troubled him. There was no universal justice. An act that could be criminal in one empire might be merely immoral in another. Gael had no moral qualms about killing someone if they deviated from his vision of right and wrong. But he knew even the Monarch of Justice struggled to distinguish them. He had trouble seeing how they would succeed.

"Indeed."

A silence followed as Gael absorbed the implications of Jason's statements.

After about ten minutes, the Monarch spoke again, asking all the questions that came to mind:

"Why did you join this society?"

Jason took a moment to reflect before answering:

"To get answers."

"About what you've become?"

"About why I've become what I am now."

Gael fell silent. He had already realized that this was beyond him, even though he was the oldest of all the Monarchs. However, he understood the reason for Jason's visit. Recruiting the Monarchs would also allow them to recruit all the organizations they supported or led. One question remained:

"Do they plan to recruit the Chosen Ones?"

"I see no reason why they wouldn't, though I'm not sure they'll accept the invitation."

Hearing Jason's assured response, Gael let out a sincere laugh.

'It promises to be entertaining to see a bit of humility on their arrogant faces,' he thought, laughing.

After a short reflection, Gael extended his hand to Jason. Before Jason could shake it to seal the agreement, Gael advanced his sole condition:

"I want to count on your support to find the missing pigment for my daughter's painting."

Jason paused briefly.

"I can't speak for the other Unleashed, but you'll have my support. You should also be able to receive support from other Monarchs in exchange for your services," was his honest response.

This seemed to be a sufficient promise for Gael, as he finally shook Jason's hand. Gael then began to list on a blank page an approximate position of all the Monarchs. He could only estimate the universe in which they were, but he knew the Director should have a solution to this problem.

After receiving a list of nearly ten thousand names with their locations, Jason asked:

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

"What kind of pigment is it to make the exchange equivalent?"

Jason didn't even know a third of the Monarchs on the list. As if to answer his question, Gael stood up and gestured for Jason to follow him.

They passed through several rooms before arriving at a wooden ladder. It creaked under their weight but held firm throughout the ascent. Once at the top, Gael stopped to indicate they had arrived.

Jason stood in what must have been the former attic. The room was completely empty except for a painting. It didn't even measure a meter in height by half a meter in width. Sitting on the floor just in front of the canvas was a young girl.

Her physical appearance suggested she was about ten years old, but appearances were often deceiving. Jason stood before the Monarch of Painting. Gael perfectly embodied the gap that could exist between a Monarch's physical appearance and their true age.

The young girl had an undeniable childlike aura that filled the room. She was small, with silky blonde hair that fell in soft curls over her shoulders. Her bright blue eyes sparkled with endless curiosity and a radiant joy, echoing the bursts of color that dotted her face and clothes.

Her cheeks were slightly rounded and colored, typical of a child around ten years old. Her skin was as radiant as that of a porcelain doll. She had a small upturned nose that adorably wrinkled when she smiled, which she often did.

Her outfit was simple: a light cotton dress in pastel colors, splattered with multicolored paint. Around her neck, she wore a brush-shaped pendant, which joyfully swung with every movement she made.

She finally noticed their presence after a few seconds and, with an excited "Papa!" rushed towards Gael. It took her a few more seconds to notice Jason's presence next to her father. She clung to Gael's sleeve before hiding behind him and casting a curious look at their visitor.

"Who are you? Are you a mortal? Can I paint your portrait?" she bombarded him with questions.

'Orion and she should get along well,' Jason thought, a slight smile on his lips, before answering with a question of his own:

"May I know your name before answering your questions?"

"But I asked first!" she complained, looking at her father with a pleading look for his support.

He simply shrugged and added:

"The faster you introduce yourself, the faster he'll answer your questions."

She took several seconds to weigh the pros and cons before finally introducing herself:

"Aurore," she murmured softly before turning to Jason, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

Jason began with a dramatic sigh:

"I suppose I'm obliged to introduce myself. I'm Jason, formerly the Monarch of the Lance and now something else that I currently call Unleashed. As for your last question, I have no problem with it, but it will have to wait for another day because people are waiting for me."

"Promise?" she asked, a hint of suspicion in her voice.

"Promise."

Happy at the idea of adding a portrait to her collection, she refrained from asking further questions.

But her father had one: "Did the pigment I gave you work?"

"No, but I feel the next one will be the right one," she replied with overflowing optimism.

Looking at the painting, Jason could recognize it as a masterpiece even for a Monarch. But perhaps because of his condition as an Unleashed, he could sense that it lacked the final touch to truly perfect it.

After exchanging a few more jokes with young Aurore, the two men returned to the front door. But before leaving, Jason turned to Gael:

"You have my condolences for your wife."

"Thank you," was his only response.

But as Jason expected to see sadness on his face, he saw something else that troubled him. He saw so much anger, so much hidden hatred that Gael had to constantly conceal behind his indifference. The man before him seemed to have accumulated so much rage that he was a bomb ready to explode.

Jason could only hope that nothing would happen to his daughter.