One drop after another. One drop falls into a pond. Two drops colliding. For a moment, only the repetitive sound of the liquid flow disturbed the deathly silence. I could only contemplate this pensive spectacle. Who was I? Or rather, what was my true personality? Unfortunately, I didn't have a clue. Did I have so little self-awareness?

My only freedom consisted of observing my work, caught up in mixed feelings, and remaining innocent. But could one really speak of innocence in this case? Or was I simply an abomination? And if so, what kind of monster was I? What monstrosity did I resemble in people's collective imagination? What kind of evil did I symbolize from the point of view of the World and the System?

I looked down at the corpse-strewn ground, at the expressions of agony and prayer of the victims of magic. Those who had been overwhelmed by madness and confronted their darkness. Was my role in the World to bring out the worst in people? And if so, what was I then? At the time, my apostle had mentioned that I looked almost human. Yet my appearance hardly seemed to shock other people.

How naive I was. It wasn't my appearance, my personality, or my spirit. It was my being. Deep in my abyss, what was there to hide? I couldn't know because I'd never contemplated the full depth of my existence. However, it was inevitable that I was not human, that something in my experience differed qualitatively from most, if not all, other beings in the World.

And just the real significance of my dear sister's words made me feel alone in a way I'd never felt before or in the future. Not even my apostle could understand the full extent of the evil within me. Of course, I hoped I was wrong and that my other half would grasp all the subtleties of my being. However, this was impossible, just as the essence of the being who called herself "Systalia" was inaccessible.

Only she could one day access the Truth of her abyss if she hadn't already obtained it. Just as only I could search tirelessly for the Answer that would tie everything else together, my unique and indisputable Truth. I glanced at the bruises on all those bodies without Souls. I alone was guilty of all this carnage. I was to blame, even if the forces chasing me deserved it.

This last thought alone gave me an intense feeling of shame and guilt, for no one deserved such atrocities. Nobody deserved such an end, did they? Even I wasn't sure because part of me wanted to look away from these complex issues and get on with the goal my apostle and I had set: to reach the top of the World.

Besides, that goal wasn't wrong in itself. What if... what if the System could answer my doubts. Deep down, without knowing why, my intuition urged me to meet the System. I was convinced, without knowing why, that the System held the key to my Truth. Was it because I sensed a certain similarity or something more fundamental?

Only this intuition, which seemed to be based on memories of a past long gone, inconceivably long, knew. And only the Void I now embodied believed it. And so I realized that during combat, I personified all the Void’s splendor, bringing me closer to the Truth of my Identity. No, it was an absurd thought, and I could only try in vain to dispute it.

If it was right, wasn't I just a Void’s incarnation? Wasn't I supposed to be a being outside the Void, at least in part? Or was I just a Void’s hallucination? Wasn't I real? In short, the only reality could be the Void and nothing else. Even I was a Void’s delusion.

As the blood spread ever more gaily across the surfaces of the room, I could only ponder these questions, which captivated me with their beauty and overwhelmed me with their horror. A part of me certainly didn't want to confront my own Truth, and for the moment, I could only surrender to the deterrent force of my mind.

Not even the last-minute cries of some of my enemies could change my mind. Speaking of which, isn't it weird? When we tell the stories of our youth after the fact, as we do now, we often tend to describe the most tragic and upsetting events.

Of course, recounting these facts can be interesting, but is it exactly the most useful? Aren't the moments right after these situations more meaningful for understanding ourselves? For example, we all like to see fights, and I like to revisit my past fights until I realize they are meaningless.

What's interesting is the symbolism of the fights, which find their origins before them and their end after them. But the fights themselves are useless, and without the context, they're insipid. That's why the moments after the battles are over are sometimes more helpful to recount than the battles themselves because that's when we see if we've really won ideologically.

We can also see whether we've won or lost the battle. Indeed, it can only be won after it's over, not before or during. After all, this opinion should be put into perspective by my lazy and, at the same time, adventurous nature. I have always loved and hated, admired, and despised opposition. I won't keep you in my ramblings any longer because I've already said too much.

And as much as I love discussing my actions, discussing myself makes me so anxious that death suddenly seems a better alternative. Revealing our way of thinking in front of a stranger is always anxiety-provoking, even when we know what kind of personality this stranger has. After all, who can predict how someone might judge us or how they see us? But hey, let's stop there and get on with it.

While thinking about the consequences of my actions, enjoying a rare moment of serenity in this city, I suddenly thought of my apostle. I asked her a question that had been nagging at the back of my mind.

"Tell me, My Dear Apostle, how do you see our actions?"

Taken aback, Systalia could only express a frown before pulling herself together: "What do you mean, My Goddess? Are you talking about the need to perpetrate such crimes or about my general opinion on the matter? Are such questions even relevant now?"

I remained pensive at her turn of phrase for a moment before finally exclaiming, "Your opinion, or even better, your philosophy on this thorny issue. After all, you've never stopped me in my murderous tracks, so I was interested in your opinion on the subject, nothing more."

By way of reply, my sister turned her head and began to wander around the room, moving ever closer to the bloody corpses, until she stopped beside one of the most disfigured. She took another moment to calm down, swallowing several times and slowly relaxing her body.

"Personally, even though I don't yet have a very informed opinion on the subject, I know I'm not very comfortable with murder, even if it's human. Of course, I'm not naive, and physical and moral sacrifices will be necessary to reach the top of the World. Nevertheless, I don't really like the idea of needless loss of life. But maybe I'm just too idealistic? I can't even conceive of our future battles, and in a year, I'll surely have changed my mind."

My sister paused and beat me to it before I could speak again.

"However, it is my opinion if you weren't here because your existence changes everything. First of all, you saved me, and even if you have a few faults, I'll try to adapt as far as I can. Secondly, although I have a specific moral code, it isn't essential to my life. And finally, most importantly, I think I... I'm optimistic about this new environment, and I consider it a chance in my life to have met you."

So, she tolerated my occasional murderous impulses because she saw more positives than negatives in the relationship. At least we had the beginnings of a relationship, not yet of trust, but I mused naively that it wouldn't be too long.

I'd have liked to dig deeper into my apostle's psyche, but something in her expression led me to assume that I'd get no further reflection from her, at least for the time being. So, I dropped the matter, keeping my questions in my mind for a later time. I could only turn my attention to what mattered in this room.

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

"On another subject, My Goddess, what are we going to do with this human?" declared my apostle, pointing at the only enemy still alive.

Indeed, we had killed everyone except one. Injuring someone without killing was particularly difficult, especially as my magic and Our Will were lethal. But fortunately, that wasn't necessarily the case with my sister. The damage inflicted on the opponent by my apostle's return magic depended on the initial power of the attack. It was potentially fatal or not, depending on the circumstances.

Our opponents wanted to capture us with minimal damage, so they didn't use their total capacity against us. Thanks to this fact, we had managed to capture one alive. On the other hand, we had failed to keep most of them alive despite this advantage. I could only note in my mind to equip ourselves with non-lethal means in the future.

In reality, the numerous bruises, burns, and cuts, which were constantly spilling blood, presaged imminent death. So, we had to act quickly for our interrogation. Especially as other adversaries would undoubtedly be arriving soon, we could only stick around for another five minutes. But no longer, as that would have pushed our luck far too far.

As my sister's heavy, decisive footsteps drew closer, the unfortunate human could only let out a small chuckle, his eyes widening. He tried in vain to escape, forgetting in the process that he was missing an arm and a leg and that the rest of his limbs had, in any case, suffered far too much damage to be functional. Seeing him suffer like that almost made me feel sorry for him. Almost.

Even cries of despair and tears didn't stop my apostle, who glared at this pathetic enemy, who could only swallow despite his dry throat. So even he, once the toughest and proudest of the group, now looked at us as if we were monsters. But what kind of monstrosity exactly? Was our presence so horrible compared to the other murderers roaming the streets?

What was the difference between us and the other criminals? No matter what, gathering information was the priority, and Systalia began the interrogation at my signal.

"Why are you chasing me? Don't try to back out, or I'll make sure all your associates succumb to eternal torment, if you know what I mean. You who have seen my strength know I'm capable of it."

The human's face could only turn livid. While he seemed uncertain for a moment about his answer, in the end, he seemed resigned to his fate. At least he didn't seem entirely unsympathetic or selfish. Could the survival of colleagues he'd never see again matter that much? It was an exciting point of view if I do say so myself.

In clumsy words, interspersed with violent spitting of blood, the poor human confessed.

"I'm just an underling. In fact, our entire group here belonged to a mercenary organization. As you can imagine, we do the dirty work that the Academicians are reluctant to do. After all, we're nothing but failures. We're not worthy of evolving, and this is the kind of life it leads to."

He seemed lost in his memories for a moment, his hands clenching. Strong discontent briefly crossed his face, and his eyes lowered before he finally remembered his situation and coughed awkwardly.

"Sorry, I spaced out for a moment. It's probably old age that wants it that way. Actually, I just know your general appearance. The reasons for your search are none of my business and irrelevant to my work. Our sole purpose was to capture you and take you to headquarters."

This conversation was so intriguing that I didn't know where to begin. However, there were still some topics that were vital to discuss. As we chatted, the dying human looked at us quizzically, certainly intrigued by my sister, who seemed, from the outside, to be chatting to herself. Incidentally, I could also see increased fear in the mercenary's eyes.

"Am I to take it that only your boss knows about this? Or is there someone close to him in the know? Did the people who took me away in their van or those who chased me before belong to the same mercenary organization as you? And finally, can you explain what the Academicians are? Even though it might seem silly, I'd love you to share your knowledge on the subject. And as for the reasons for my last request... You said before that it didn't concern you, didn't you?"

Being bombarded by such a salvo of questions, his mouth opened and closed several times as he stammered out some semblance of words. It took a moment for the old mercenary to collect himself and, between two coughing fits, express himself one last time.

"Sorry, I'm not high enough to access such information, but I can assume that he has discussed it with those directly under him. He should have discussed it with someone from a branch like us. So, it would only be at headquarters where they would be aware of the ins and outs of the Academicians' orders. As for your previous trackers, I don't know what to make of that. For our part, I only knew our task two days ago. I might be tempted to speculate that another branch received orders before we did, but..."

The former mercenary remained pensive, his face pale as he emitted incoherent mumblings. Knowing that the blood he was spitting out and the probable pain he was in would inevitably draw him out of his thoughts, we left him to his reflections in this uncomfortable mood.

"No... It definitely can't be that! I doubt another branch received orders before us. For high-risk missions, we always coordinate between groups to maximize strike force, as well as to make sure we win. In fact, I was going to meet another of our branches tomorrow to draw up a collective plan for you. After all, the Academicians were always careful to cover their tracks in the event of mission failure. Yes, always."

Suddenly, the face of the dying mercenary showed a horrified expression like never before, at least insofar as his muscles still possessed enough strength to contract. This only served to captivate me even more. Who were these "Academicians" that this human, who feared us like monsters, considered them even worse?

"In the end, another organization must have targeted you. It's common for Academicians to give several organizations the same order. It is simple for them to delete several organizations. It was simple to ensure no one could trace them back, and sponsoring a general purge was always possible. Although this was rare, no doubt due to reprisals from other Academicians. In any case, that's the only reason I can think of. As for your last crazy question, although I'm inquisitive to know your reasons, I will not dig any further. Anyway–"

The dying mercenary coughed up even more blood, his cough rapidly worsening as his eyes gradually closed. There was no doubt that he, too, would fall into unconsciousness, joining his comrades.

"The Academicians aren't humans like us... They're gods! It's the only logical and reasonable explanation! Even the abomination you are doesn't stand a chance against them. They're simply on a completely different level to us mere mortals. You will surely perish... Or rather, you have nowhere to escape their influence! For their eyes are everywhere! So don't resist, because it's a foregone conclusion! They really are the masters of the–"

And those were the last words of a madman. Were we all destined for madness? I didn't know, but in any case, conversing about Academicians seemed to push him to the brink of insanity. Whoever they were appeared incomparably more potent than any opponent we'd faced. So much so that they were associated with the divine for the inhabitants of this city.

Of course, this poor human was hardly sane at the end of our conversation. But even so, he seemed sufficiently traumatized by the Academicians that we decided to heed his warnings. We could only take one last look at his wide eyes, sobs, and wide-open mouth as if he were about to laugh in despair at the mere mention of such mysterious and fascinating beings.

I felt downright weird. Seeing the mercenary's corpse one last time, I thought I felt regret for having killed him. But this was inconceivable, for I could never have felt remorse for my actions, given the existence I symbolized in the eyes of others. I came away confused by this chance encounter, not knowing how I should feel about the actions I'd committed.

All the more so as it was the first time I'd felt such hesitation afterward about slaughtering people. But why was I in doubt? About the necessity of my actions? No. About their meaning? Um... Not either. About their moral legitimacy? Clearly not. Or I was looking at the problem the wrong way round, and in fact, what I dreaded most was–

To my dismay, I didn't have the time, for our trackers had finally decided to fight us. We'd had a glimpse of them for some time, but they'd disdained to come out and meet us. At least until now. Were they tired of following us? Fortunately, this fight would be easy, as we were already prepared for a threat of this magnitude.

It didn't take more than a few seconds before the spells intended for us were sent back to their caster. Even if this didn't cause them any severe damage, they were sufficiently disconcerted by the evolution of the situation that they couldn't react quickly enough to dodge our spells. One spell paralyzed the senses, and the other put them to sleep. These were two scrolls that had belonged to our previous victims.

While they were asleep, we subtracted the two scrolls we felt most beneficial. And finally, we had no choice but to consume them all with my Will. I then unleashed my magic and engulfed them all while he slept. They should be grateful to me. It wasn't every day you could enjoy such a peaceful death.

This group had underestimated us so much that the fight had been easy. For once, I wasn't going to complain. Even if I could only be suspicious of such ease. We waited in macabre silence for a new threat for a few minutes, confirming my belief that we'd fallen into a trap. However, to my great relief, nothing ever came.

Even the mercenary's group, who had started watching us a few hours after exiting the secret passage without initiating combat, were more competent. By the way, regarding this famous secret gallery, which was surprisingly almost devoid of inhabitants... apart from a few people we'd tenderly zapped, it had taken us nearly three weeks to reach the exit.

Our gaze wandered off towards the path to the Refuge, to our beloved home. Or rather, the one we'd learned to long for on our exotic journey. As the language of the streetlamps guided us, it was finally time for us to return to this more familiar and protective place.

Of course, there was no doubt that we'd still have to face a few enemies until we arrived, but today, I was more confident than ever. Even if it was a little presumptuous and unconscious of me at the time, I was curiously right.

In any case, I still had one last conclusion to draw: my unease about my actions. Whatever its depth, I was sure that the answer would come in time, so for the time being, I could ignore it. I realized that I was simply putting off worrying about it until later, but that was what I and my intuition had decided, for better... and for worse.

But the most important thing was that we could now name our enemy Academicians. I wanted to meet them one day because, although I could hardly explain it, I was convinced they had a crucial connection with the events that had led to my awakening in the mysterious room.

However, the real question was: when the time came, would I accept the Truth about my past?