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After checking in at their inn, the four enjoyed a sumptuous dinner at a bar Sima recommended before finally getting down to business...
It was a crowded place, the slums. All manners of folk walk in and around their stinky, rat-infested alleyways. Beggars, swindlers, scum of the earth.
And yet...
"Thank you, father! Please bless us with master Don Khai's holy words next time!" A dirty beggar was on the brink of tears as she bowed to a saintly looking man. It wasn't just her, though: there was an entire crowd seemingly worshipping him in the middle of the cramped street.
"Do not worry, children. Everyone's ears shall hear his divine words soon!" He smiled, and for a second, everyone had the illusion of a bright white aura surrounding the 'priest'.
However, a single person saw through the man's tricks, their eyes hidden under a cloak narrowing in swift understanding. They observed everything about him: his temperament, his clothing, his actions...
To them, that man smelled of lies.
He claimed to be a priest, and yet the way he spoke was a mere imitation of the sheer faith to their god any faithful would have, not to mention a holy man.
He claimed to speak on behalf of Aite, god of life and death, and yet neither his body, soul or mind was anything close to resembling any of those ideas...
He was no priest; he was just a blasphemer going to—!!!
"Hey," He felt a hand on his shoulder, "Calm down, ya big baby,"
He scowled and turned to swipe away his hands. Until he saw him.
"B-Brother Sima?!" His hands lost all strength, and his intentions went out like a flicker of flames meeting a tide of water.
"Hey, Tomas," Sima went in for a hug, and the man named Tomas reciprocated, "Don't be so mad; my friends could smell your bloodlust from a mile away!" He let go and pointed back with his thumb.
"Hehe... S-Sorry! You know how it is with the family and everything. We don't like fakers on... our..." He lost his voice as his eyes followed Sima's finger, his mouth gaping open in shock at who he saw
"Oi,"
"Ello',"
"How are you?"
He walked past a confused Sima, past the woman and the man with the moustache. He didn't care for them; as far as he was concerned, they were now... expendable. They were nothing but white noise, nothing but overly-distracting as the world faded to white, only allowing him to see the one in front of him...
"...So you're the one who subjugated fate," His feet finally stopped in front of Connor, a blank expression on his face.
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"Um... Hello?" Connor was unnerved, but he tried to hide it with a smile. Subjugated? That's a strange way of saying chosen...
This seemed to shake Tomas out of it, and he blubbered, "Y-Yes... Hello, master of Fate,"
"What?" Connor did a double-take, "What did you just say I was?"
"The master of Fate! The one who controls fate, controls the world!" He exclaimed, continuing with the same amount of fervour, "You bend Fate to your will and do with it what you want! You are all-powerful!"
Connor looked constipated as he listened to the man. Bending Fate to his will? Sorry, man, but Fate's the only one doing any sort of bending in their relationship.
"Come, Master of Fate! Don't be shy and show off your deeds! how did you defy Fate at such a young age?! All the other masters only accomplished such a feat with one foot in the grave!" He pumped his fists in the air, an eager smile on his face.
"I-I think you got something—"
"Stop pretending, sir! It's beneath someone of your brilliant calibre!" He pouted when he saw the sheepish look on Connor's face, turning around to Sima to complain, "Tell him, Sima! He doesn't need to cover it up any longer! This whole city belongs to Papa!"
Sima stood stock still, largely taken aback by how the conversation was so suddenly pushed onto him.
"A-Ah... Well y'see..." He smiled, just as shy as Connor's was, "He didn't really do any conquering, per se..."
"H-Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeh?!"
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"—I still can't believe it!" Tomas sped walk down the darkened corridor of their base, Connor and friends trailing behind him, "How can the owner of the Book of Fate just be some ordinary kid! There must be a mix-up! No, that guy must be a fake!"
Everyone sighed tiredly. Everyone had tried their hand in convincing the teenager into believing them, but he seemed to be so fixated on 'conquering' Fate that their efforts never went anywhere. Eventually, Sima just got tired and told him to bring them to Don Khai. He agreed, but added on a particularly bothersome condition...
"Of course! Papa will definitely know that he's a poser!" Was what he said verbatim.
It hurt: being called a fake in front of your face. But a cursory trip down memory lane convinced him that maybe, just maybe, there was a case to be made after all...
Eventually, they arrived at the end of their destination. The five stopped before a giant wooden gate, not that he could tell, with the whole thing having been gilded in multiple layers of gold leaf.
Ignoring the equally large gargoyle-shaped door knockers, Tomas directly banged on the door, creating an echoey, hollow sound that rung throughout the immediate vicinity, "Papa! It's Tomas! Sima came back!" He added after a few seconds of nonstop banging.
Almost instantly after his holler, a resounding click sounded from behind the door, like a lock being turned, before the gigantic pair of doors opened up to reveal...
'...Incredible!' Connor wanted to say, only to deny it a moment later. Such a bland word wouldn't do what he saw justice: magnificent, enlightening, majestic, legendary, exalted— none of these would do!
It was—
"Perfect." Yes! That was it! Only such an abstract word could describe it, only a concept that's so clear yet so empty in information is acknowledged.
Is it perfect because of the architecture? Yes!
Is it perfect because of the smell? Yes!
Is it perfect from the sound? Yes!
Is it perfect... from the taste??
YES!!
"I see you've been impressed with my humble abode," Everyone turned, and like fairy lights on Christmas eve, Sima's eyes lit up. The voice belonged to an ancient of a man: his back was hunched, and he used a walking cane to get around, but oddly enough, Connor sensed an uncontrollable vigour coursing through his very being.
"Pops!" He sprinted for the man, arms already outstretched. The two hugged briefly before letting go, his focus now solely on Connor.
They eyed each other for a while... quietly. Connor didn't know what to make of the enigma in front of him, and he was sure it was the same the other way round.
One was old, decrepit, past his prime...
The other was young, foolish, and merely a budding flower...
So when came time to talk, both said:
"Oh, how the legends have fallen,"