"Do you have a speech prepared?" Leonard asked, following after Alexander as he paced through a hallway. "Anything to say to him right off the bat?"

"No, Leonard." That was all Alexander told him. "I don't care enough," he said, speaking through his grit teeth and clenched jaw. His eyebrows were furrowed, and his fists were clenched as he took step after step, treading forward to Archibald's office.

Lumiel sped ahead of Alexander, just to turn around and face him, walking backward. "I don't know," she spat out, her face wrinkling with confusion. "It seems like you do care. A lot."

"Give him some space, Lumiel," Liam said aloud, until Lumiel finally let out a grumble and let Alexander pass.

It was only two days after Alexander was freed. He had cut his hair, shortened it to an unnecessary extent. After his transformation, his hair seemed longer, lighter, softer. That strange condition was solved by a simple cut, which Alexander deemed necessary anyway.

He had cleaned, ridding himself of every single stench he found in the Second Circle. He had burned the garments they had given him, with the help of Leonard, of course. And now...

All the Virtues gathered with Alexander as he went to meet his father, even despite his wishes. It was right in the middle of the day, a school day at that. But for nearly an hour, right in the middle of the day, students at the Magecraft Academy went to lunch.

That was the assignment, anyway. And with no regulations on who went where...

Alexander decided this would be the best time to meet his father. Even after telling his mom that such a meeting should only occur with her involvement. Even after trying to rid himself of his friends. He had made his decision, and he continued.

With each step they took, Alexander seemed to grow weary and strained. They had left school, they had transported themselves to Pendragon, and they had found Archibald's office. And with each passing second, with the slow burning of silence in the elevator, he found it more and more difficult to push down the stress in his stomach, the unease in his soul.

Adam Lane was always a mystery to Alexander. In all of Alexander's life, he had only seen three photos of him. Two of those pictures had his face scratched out, torn out, removed as a whole, leaving his existence behind.

He only had a single photo of his father's face was all he had ever known of him. According to his mom, Adam had remained by his side until he was two years old. But that wasn't enough for a single memory.

And now, with his father just a handful of meters away, Alexander didn't know what to feel. His stomach churned with a whirl of emotions, a confused blend of anger and worry.

Even so, he kept stepping forward. It wasn't long before Alexander's quickness led him to Archibald's grand office, the spacious room of bookshelves and couches and coffee tables, all extending backward into a single desk ahead of a single imposing window.

The same oak door that he had seen countless times finally stood before him. And as simple as it always was to swing that door open, Alexander paused, he hesitated to grab the doorknob.

They were all behind that door. Just that door. Just an inch of wood away from the man who was his father. A man who he had no memory of, no thought towards.

He couldn't deny the feeling that poked at his gut and urged him to run, purely so he wouldn't have to see that man's face. But at the same time, he couldn't begin to run away now.

Once again, he clenched his fist. He took in a sharp inhale and spoke. "Okay..." He wrapped his fingers around the bronze doorknob. "Let's go."

With a twist and a push, the door swung open. And the Virtues crowded the door to get a single glimpse of Alexander's father.

As soon as their eyes laid upon him, a collective gasp left their lips. Anastasia instantly recognized his face, the man who interrogated her for a few minutes and left her free.

"Ah..." That was the first sound anyone uttered. It was Charles Archibald, standing right next to Alexander's father, his eyebrows furrowing through his spectacles. Even he understood the tension that might spring from this. And so, he simply put a hand and waved, greeting the Virtues as he took a few steps back.

Adam Lane was a tall and handsome man of over 40. He was pale-skinned but dark-haired, with fine eyes as black as ebony. His face was riddled with stubble, bristles of unshaven hair. He stood still and quiet, his entire manner being a dull and nearly ghastly air of resolution.

He was standing still, calm but not relaxed. Ready, like a warrior ready to spring into action at a moment's notice.

The very first thing Gabriel and Liam and even Lumiel noticed was that strength of his; the vicious torrent of magic energy that surrounded his entire being. It was a dark cloud of translucent energy, warping in the air and molding his very surroundings.

The grand window behind him let in the beautiful light of the simple sky, flashing into the Virtues sight in contrast to Adam's black figure. His body was swathed in untainted darkness and shadow, pure magic energy and power itself.

For Giovanna, for Leonard, for almost every human in existence, they weren't familiar with High-Grades. They had already met Archibald and Arnhild, but... That was never enough to prepare them for the pillar of strength that they stood as.

He was dressed in almost pure black, covered in a dark overcoat along with black pants and boots. He wore a simple button-down shirt underneath, plain and grey. Still, as unmistakable and intentionally formal as Adam tried to appear, the trenchcoat he wore threw it all apart.

It was worn leather, black in color but dulled over years and experiences. It was patched up in some spots, although hardly noticeable, cleaned and restored, although hardly effective over the years.

Even then, none of that was what Alexander noticed. His eyes fixated themselves on Adam's eyes. They were black, just like his. But they were weary. Afflicted, tormented by exhaustion, by the weight of a burden too heavy to carry. A burden he carried anyway, time and time again.

Alexander understood, because he had his own burdens to carry.

And just then, Adam's dull dull gaze fell upon the group of children. "Hi," he said ever so plainly. "I'm Adam Lane."

As if he truly needed to introduce himself.

Alexander took a step forward, past the Virtues and past the doorway to step into the office. "I'm... Alexander Lane," he muttered out, his eyes again meeting his father's.

Adam nodded.

The room fell into stark silence once again.

"Well, Alexander..." Archibald said aloud as he stared at him. "Adam will be staying in Midgard for some time. Regardless of anything, I think you should both become acquainted. Do you concur, Adam?"

"...Sure."

Alexander clenched his jaw. He turned his head and stared at his friends. With a slight nod, he gripped the doorknob once again and pushed the door shut. He gripped the bronze lock just above and turned it to the side.

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A hollow click echoed and that was all. The Virtues spat out a collective sigh, followed by muffled groans and knocks on the door. Still, Alexander ignored them.

"So you're staying here for a while..." Alexander muttered out. "In that case, I think we should get some things straight right now."

Adam nodded. That was the only movement he afforded. His hands remained in his pockets, his eyes remained fixed on Alexander.

"One. You may be my father..." Alexander said. "But I'm not calling you dad. I think that's a given."

"Yeah, I wasn't counting on it either."

Alexander raised a pair of fingers and continued. "Don't touch me. Like, seriously, please don't. No hugs, no pats on the back, nothing serious. A handshake at most."

Again, his father nodded. His eyes remained stale, his body remained motionless. Alexander stared into Adam's black gaze, stark obsidian just like his. But... They were empty. Worn out and dulled, as if life itself had bled out from his eyes, from his soul. There seemed to be no thought or feeling behind them.

Another finger was raised. "Three. No apologies. I don't wanna hear anything you have to say about "I left you because I had to. I did what was necessary. I'm sorry." I don't care. Let's put it past us."

No emotion was apparent from Adam, to begin with. That is, until he smirked. "That's good." That was all Adam had said. "I wasn't planning on apologizing regardless. There's no point in excuses or anything like that."

This time it was Alexander who nodded. He dropped his hand to his side and spoke again.

"Four. Don't mention my mom. Maria, I mean." Alexander nearly choked on his words. "I... Her death must've been horrible for you. And I'm sorry it had to happen. I'm sorry you of all people had to go through that, but... Just don't mention her. That's... That's all."

Adam's slight, toothless smirk slipped away. He took in a sharp breath as his eyes fixed themselves on the carpeted floor. He pondered to himself. That's what it looked like, at least. His mind seemed strained, complicated thoughts flowing from neuron to neuron as he began to understand.

"Ah..." Adam uttered again. "I see now. Archibald was telling the truth. You're a kid with too many ideals. You probably... No, you definitely fight with an altruistic purpose. Especially since Carmen raised you."

"Huh?" Alexander didn't understand. But Adam kept talking.

"You fight differently than everyone else. Because you still believe in 'virtue', even in war. And there's no point in having a discussion like this with someone who extols such virtues. You fight like... Like a hero of the old ages, one who is willing to bear the weight of the world for what they believe is 'just' and 'right'. Don't you see the problem, Alexander?" he asked, tilting his head as his eyes once again fell unto his son.

He raised a finger and pointed at Alexander. "No one willing to carry such a burden is strong enough to actually bear it. So... A hero can't save the world. You won't be strong enough either. And just like them, you'll buckle. You'll break, and you'll end up cursing your own life."

Alexander clenched his fist, his nails already digging into his skin. "No..." he spat out. "You don't understand it. I'm not fighting to be a hero. I don't need to be a symbol or someone remembered for years. I know battles and wars aren't just. But they still have to be fought," he told his father. "I'll never curse my ideals. After all... I'm fighting so people don't have to die!"

Another smirk. "Contradictions like that will get you killed someday."

Alexander took a step back.

And again, Adam continued his refutal. "You're still young." He threw himself back and landed on the baby blue couch behind him. A breath his lips as he slouched down, his coat swaying and falling at his sides.

"A battlefield is a hell itself," he proclaimed. "There's no hope to have on one. Only despair. And a crime called victory. But humanity has never recognized this truth. They never will. True human nature hasn't advanced one step since the Stone Age."

Adam placed his hands onto his belt. On that leather belt sat two holsters, both filled with iron guns.

Practically every magician was armed in some way. But for a High-Grade like Adam to carry firearms...

Those thoughts slipped away as Adam continued speaking. "Your problem... is that you desire to protect. You practically ask for the opportunity to make others' lives easier, to bear their burdens. To save the world."

Adam pulled out one of his guns from its holster. In contrast to all that he wore, all that he was, it was shiny. It was iron, yet with a metallic black glimmer. That gun seemed to be completely normal, just like any other if its beauty and complications were ignored.

He stared at it, examining it as he held it in his hands above his head. Adam's finger slid through, nearly touching the trigger he whirled it around, only to slide it back into its holster.

In just the few seconds it was out, it stood as a flare of magic power, exploding outward into the atmosphere. Yet, as soon as it reentered the holster, that energy disappeared.

Alexander swallowed his dry saliva.

Alexander furrowed his eyebrows. "I live in the world," he said in response. "You do realize that, right? Billions of others do, too. Of course, I have to protect it. I-"

"Can you be everywhere in the world at once, protecting everyone at the same time? Can you ward off every possible catastrophe?"

"I... That-"

"What? It doesn't make sense? It's not fair? It's all the same. Nothing good comes from trying to save the world. You should only care about those important to you. Don't try to carry everyone's burdens by yourself; That'll just crush you."

Alexander found himself unable to speak. His throat was constricting with each breath, with each word that left Adam's lips.

"You don't understand the weight of your own actions."

He burst into anger. "Well, why do you even care?!" Alexander cried out. "This whole war itself doesn't even concern you!

"Because I don't want to watch my son walk down that path."

He turned to the Paladin who sat just a few meters away, behind his wooden desk. Archibald stared back.

"Charles told me what you've done, what you're capable of," Adam said. "I knew you would be able to achieve such a level of strength. But I didn't want you to. I didn't want Charles to summon you into the Virtues. I didn't want you to ever know you were a Demon-Born. Because this is how you ended up. If you're anything like me, you're too stubborn to change yourself."

Alexander wanted to leave. Each second he stared at that man's face was another second to crush his heart, ruin his hopes. His ears grew red and his jaw became clenched.

"What you plan on doing... What you plan on becoming..." Another sigh left Adam's lips. "You'll have to throw everything away. You lose yourself and your humanity. But I guess that's a fitting punishment for a demon like you."

Alexander smiled. He forced it, pushing the corners of his lips to arch up and put his teeth out on display. But his eyes were not smiling. "Well, Archibald," he said to the Paladin. "It's been great. This was really helpful, as you said," he spoke with his strained grin.

"Thanks for this." He turned to his father. "And Adam, thanks to you, too." Alexander's smile disappeared in an instant as soon as he turned away and headed for the door.

He flipped the lock and pulled it open, only to be met with the other Virtues standing around, huddled near the door to listen to any muffles in the room behind it. The door was more than an inch thick of pure wood- Alexander couldn't imagine they heard much.

But it didn't matter much to him. He shoved his hands into his pockets and began to move.

Behind him, his friends quickly trailed, asking questions and making comments, all pertaining to Alexander and Adam.

Alexander continued to move, pushing out all thoughts of Adam. Even so, he couldn't push out that man's words. The path he trekked, would it really lead him to what Adam said?

He grit his teeth.

Time and time again, Alexander has resolved himself. And that's the same thing he did now. He had to fight. His battles, his wars, they were necessary. He fought for what he believed in.

Alexander had resolved himself.

While the Virtues headed back, Adam remained seated, rubbing the side of his hand across his head. "Charles, I've told you this too many times to count. A hero can't save the world. They... People like them call certain methods of conflict and bloodshed 'just' and others 'evil', acting as if there's some nobility to battle. Such illusions... are what lead countless others to their bloody deaths, all in pursuit of glory and honor."

Archibald remained at his desk. His seat was swiveled around, leaving him to face the grand windows before him. The sky was almost pure white, blank and filled with clouds. Not an ounce of blue escaped the thick layer of the heavens.

His eyes remained fixated on his view of the heavens, even as he spoke. "So you... You hate Alexander, and other people like him, for how he is. Is that right?"

"I could never hate him. But even if he hates me, I will wage my wars with whatever I have at my disposal. Justice and righteousness cannot save the world. I don't care for such things. But what you've done with the Virtues... All you've done is create those heroes. All you've done is doom them."

Archibald pushed his glasses up and spun back around to his friend. "Y'know... We were never able to agree on these sorts of things. We've both been through much. And each experience was different."

The Paladin unbuttoned the first layer of his coat, a double-breasted jacket with buttons lining each side from top to bottom. He clenched his heart and took in a sigh. "I know what I've done, Adam. I know I haven't made things easy for them. But their burden is that of humanity's. What they're doing... will change everything."

Again, Adam shook his head. "Alexander was never a right choice," he told the Paladin.

"You can't keep saying that."

"Alexander Lane... He hardly believes his own ideals."

Archibald groaned.

Forcing himself to his feet, Adam slid his hands into the pockets of his coat. "I could tell by his eyes. He... He's seen a whole lot more than he should have. A whole lot more than I wish he had. Something... Someone has done something to him, something he cannot forgive no matter what. He's just a boy, but one filled with an indescribable rage. To such an extent that he's willing to do evil to destroy evil. Just like I told him..."

"He's a contradiction. And that'll lead him down a path he isn't strong enough for."