The sight of Alexander's corpse laying on a steel table, ready for an autopsy, was one that filled Charles Archibald with nothing but rage.

His fists were clenched, resting atop his blood-stained black pants. All he could do was stare as the coroner traced her latex-clad fingertips across his skin.

It had only been four hours since he had died. In that time, Anastasia Velda and the others brought his body to the Paladin. Every single minute up until now had blurred together. Blood had already dried on his hands, and as much as hated that sight, he couldn't wash them.

He couldn't find the strength of will to stand. If he did... He felt as if he would collapse immediately.

After all, he was the reason Alexander had been killed. He had chosen Alexander as a Virtue. All of the actions afterward– The battle against Mammon, the trial and its results, all of it were a product of Archibald.

And so, the Demon-Born's death was a product of him as well.

"Whoever he fought was strong," the coroner said through her surgical mask. "A heavily armed man who's at least a Grade 1," she told him, gently grabbing a hold of Alexander's hand and raising his arm. Three tears sat in the muscle of his forearm, the fresh muscle still bright red.

"Tell us something we don't know."

Her attention turned to the man who had just spoken. The black-haired man sat pressed against the concrete wall with his black coat beneath him. His head drooped over, leaving his eyes focused on the floor. Adam Lane.

"You do realize all of this is recorded, right?" she asked, aiming one of her fingers at the bright lamp that hovered above Alexander's corpse. "Everything I say and do is for research purposes. Not for you."

Adam spat out a sigh as she continued.

"Repeated incisions into the right forearm," she spoke again. "Similar to wounds received in right calf and quadricep. The corpse's lower half had been covered with a white sheet, but even that had grown crimsoned over the short span.

"She's got a point," John Smith told the Demon-Born. "Just let her do her job."

Smith was Archiblad's personal assistant. But, being a Paladin, there wasn't much he needed assistance in, making Smith's job effectively pointless, other than administration of matters concerning the Virtues.

That was his purpose in being there.

"This was planned by someone in a position of power, wasn't it?" Adam asked, thinking back on what Archibald had involved himself with during the trial.

"...What do you mean?" Smith asked.

"I'm surprised you still don't understand how crooked this world is," the Paladin said plainly.

He continued. "This wasn't a mugging or a random attack. It was a simple assassination. It probably would've been the icing on the cake if the other two had been killed." Archibald ruffled his silver-grey hair before he spat out a sigh. "And this is all after I pulled some strings to prevent an actual execution."

Archibald brought himself to stand. And with that, he looked down at Adam. He told him, "Those crusty pieces of garbage are behind this, y'know."

"Yeah, I know," Adam said, his eyes still focused on the floor, his head still drooping over with his back flattened against the wall.

"Hey."

Adam finally looked up to see Archibald staring at him. "Maybe..." the Paladin said. "Maybe I should just kill all the higher-ups."

It was then that Adam let out a heavy sigh.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Archibald muttered with a click of his tongue. He turned away and faced Alexander. "I have to think about the 'consequences' and all that."

"No, I was gonna say that we should. Let's do it."

Archibald turned to Adam. "Wait, what?"

The Demon-Born's eyes remained on the ground. "Alexander's death– This isn't a matter of fate. Alexander... He was betrayed by the world, even when he chose to protect it. Just as I was. That much... cannot be forgiven."

Adam had been through too much in life. It had dulled his heart. He no longer shed tears, he no longer grit his teeth in rage. He could not be swayed by any emotion or action anymore.

That's what Archibald believed, at least. And yet, Adam Lane clenched his fist. His eyes were glowing with an unbridled fury. He pushed himself up from the cold floor and forced himself to stand.

His eyes now stood level with Archibald's. "Find out what you can from Xerxes." A sigh left Adam's lips. "And let me know when Carmen gets here."

"Huh? Sure..." Archibald responded in an instant, as he watched Adam open the steel door behind him and exit the room. The creak echoed for a second after it was opened and shut. And as the coroner continued the inspection, Archibald let himself sit back. He spat out a sigh as his head fell back and gently impacted the wall behind him.

John Smith continued to stand still beside the Paladin. He only faced forward, staring at the process and the deceased body. The room once again fell into silence, save for the uttered notes of the coroner.

"Smith-" Archibald called, sitting back down and pressing his head against the wall. "Do you know why I became a Paladin?"

"Uh..." Smith stammered out. The assistant was caught off with that sort of question. Or any sort of question in this case. "To put your talents to good use, sir?"

"...Nope." Archibald cleared his throat. "Being a Paladin is nothing special. If I weren't one of the twelve, there'd already be someone else. Go ahead and try again."

"The salary, then?"

A chuckle finally left the Paladin's lips. "No way. I don't make that much money as a Paladin. Every asshole in the Parliament makes easily triple what I do. I do have good benefits, though. My dental insurance?" Archibald clicked his tongue. "It's brilliant. I'm telling you, I probably have the best dental insurance in all Midgard."

"But..." He continued with a sigh. "The real reason I became a Paladin is that... Well, I have a dream."

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"...Did you just say a dream?"

"Yeah. For instance, what happened to Alexander is the result of the wickedness that is the world of magecraft."

Smith furrowed his eyebrows. "What do you-"

He was cut off by the Paladin almost immediately. "Arrogant idiots, corrupt idiots, backward idiots, and simple-minded idiots. It's a bargain sale of rotten garbage. That's why I became a Paladin. So I could hit reset– so I could renew this shithole that is the society of magecraft. It's easy to just kill the higher-ups. But they would just be replaced. Nothing would change. But with a position like 'Paladin', I could help raise strong and capable comrades. Take the Virtues, for example. I dump missions on them all for the sake of them becoming stronger. They're excellent students, excellent magicians, excellent people. Especially Gabriel, Liam, and Lumiel in terms of magic. They'll all become magicians who can rival me, who can rival my power ."

Archibald clenched his fist. "Alexander was one of them, too."

He stood up.

And with that, Smith couldn't help but smirk. "Well, well, well... You're getting quite a bit emotional now. You had a soft spot for him, didn't you?"

"Of course I did. He was a good kid, and I'm a nice guy, so..." He shrugged. "I don't even know anymore. I'm just... angered."

The door once again creaked as it was pushed open. But it wasn't from a slight press or nudge; It was forced open. And a short woman ran through into the room. She tripped on her shoelaces and fell to her knees right onto the white tiled floor.

Just inches away from the standing sheet of metal that acted as a table. Just inches away from her son's corpse.

Smith stepped toward her. "Ma'am, are you-"

Archibald's hand flew up before him and brought him to a halt. He shook his head at him. "Don't."

She raised her head and looked up at Alexander's hand. The blood on it had already dried. And the lacerations on his forearm were still brimming with the fresh color of blood and flesh. She hated that sight.

Who wouldn't?

But there was nothing to be done. Alexander was already dead. There was nothing to say or do or think. All she could do was feel. All Carmen could do was weep as she pressed her forehead against the cold metal table before her.

Emilia followed her. She walked behind in slow, staggered steps, barely trailing along, barely staying upright. Her head was drooping over. She couldn't bring herself to look up at the corpse just a few feet ahead. She couldn't bring herself to look at her brother.

Instead, she simply followed the trail of tears Carmen left behind on the floor. Each teardrop glistened in the fluorescent lights that cascaded from above.

She took another step forward. Even from outside the room, she had heard her mother's crying. Even in the drive over to the morgue, Carmen's teeth had been clenched and her eyes had welled up with tears. Each second and each breath brought only more impatience, only more suffering.

All either of them wanted to do was look him in the eyes just one more time.

Tears welled up in Emilia's eyes. Even so, she didn't let her tears fall. As her mother wept beside her, she had to be strong. Just as Alexander always was. Now... All she had to do was wrap Carmen in her arms. She had to hold her, help her, and love her.

No matter how badly she wanted to scream out and cry.

"Miss Cortés... I'm sorry. It's my fault," Archibald said.

"It is." Those were the words she choked out as she rubbed her ever-flowing tears from her eyes. "This is all because of you."

Archibald wanted to console her. He wanted to help her stand on her feet, to help her move on. But any words or actions from him at all... None of it would matter to her. He was the wrong person to do anything for her or Emilia.

It was his fault. Nothing he could do would change that. Nothing he could do would help.

Instead, he simply reached into his pocket to send a message to Adam as the coroner's mumbles became more pressed and confused.

The Demon-Born was already outside.

He wanted fresh air. But in the metropolis that Pendragon was, that wasn't something easy to come by, especially alongside the Pendragon River.

The flowing river had always been the source of life and movement in what now is the capital of the Norteon Union, running across the entire breadth of the city. And so, it stunk. For the past hundred or so years it had only grown more polluted, more dirtied, more trashed. Now, only dark water that smelled of feces and smog remained.

The morgue sat right at the side of the river, distanced only by a stretch of concrete reaching all the way up to the water.

There she sat, a thin, pale girl with raven-black hair, on that cement. Adam had recognized her, and yet, didn't recall her name.

"Velda, right?" he asked, approaching the seated girl.

"Yep," she muttered, her fist pressed against her chin. Her arm rested on her knee as she stared out at the dark river. "Anastasia Velda." She didn't turn or look up at him, only keeping her sight fixed on the flowing water.

"Virtue of Patience."

"Yep," she spat out again. "Not that it's relevant or anything."

Adam sat down beside her onto the concrete steps and let them both fall back into silence.

Without so much as a minute of quiet, Anastasia brought herself to speak, her gaze still fixed on the black river. "I have really distorted ideals, y'know. And I didn't realize it until you interrogated me."

Adam furrowed his eyebrows. He didn't understand, but didn't ask for further elaboration. He only continued to face forward.

Anastasia turned to face him. "I told you that no one really deserves to live. Life and death are all a natural cycle. All lives are equally trivial. That includes mine. And so... Any death, including my own, is nothing to be sad about."

A sigh left her lips. "That's what I think, at least. But I'm starting to doubt that. Because... Because..." Anastasia muttered through her constricting throat and streaming tears. "I don't think Alexander deserved to die."

Her grief slipped away in a moment of confusion as Adam's coarse-skinned palm rested atop her head.

"What... are you doing?" Anastasia asked.

Adam's hand remained on her hair as he responded. "I'm just trying to console you. I'm just not very good at it."

Her lips began to curl into a slight smile, even through the tears sliding down her pale cheeks. "Y'know, Alexander does the same thing. It's weird but... But it's funny."

Adam nodded and lifted his hand off her head. It was then that his phone buzzed with a message. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.

From Charles Archibald, it read: "Carmen and Emilia are here. And there's a slight problem. Hurry."

He swallowed his dry saliva and shoved his phone back. "I'm going back in there," he told her, standing up and facing the dull grey building of stone. "Come with me, Velda."

They rushed into the morgue to find the coroner, to find Carmen and Emilia, Archibald and Smith, all huddled around the corpse of the Demon-Born.

"Emilia..." Anastasia muttered out. "What's happening?" she asked, as Adam approached Carmen and found his way to his son.

The Paladin took a step back to Anastasia. "Ah. I see you've met Adam for, what, the third time now?" Archibald asked as Emilia joined them.

Anastasia nodded. "He reminds me a lot of Alexander. But at the same time, they're nothing alike."

Those words forced a chuckle from Archibald's lips. "Well, he's been through a lot. But that's the exact reason why you can trust him. The man with the strongest will."

Adam interrupted as he turned back to the Paladin. "What's the problem?"

The coroner took off her gloves and pressed the back of her hand against the corpse's face. "I knew it... It's his whole body..." she muttered as she touched his cheek. She looked up and stared at Adam. "Touch him," she told him.

"I'm not used to dealing with Demon-Borns, so... I just don't know," she stammered out.

Adam grabbed Alexander's corpse by his shoulder. He was still warm. There had been no heartbeat in over four hours-- barely a heart in the first place. After just three hours of death, the body is cooled without circulation.

But Alexander... His body was still warm, as if he had never died in the first place.

"What the Hell?" Adam muttered out. He let out and took a step back. His thoughts raced as his mind scanned over the memories long past. It was all similar. He clenched his jaw. "Damn you, demon."

"What is it?" Carmen asked, her eyes still welled up with tears.

"This is just a guess, but... I think this is the same that happened to me before. My heart stopped beating and I woke up in the UnderWorld."

"Wait, what do you mean?" Carmen asked.

Adam rubbed his chin. "Charles. Do you remember 1999?"

"Are you referring to the Bizarre Summer of '99?" he asked, with a snap of his fingers.

The Demon-Born nodded. "Based on what happened then..." he muttered, once again pressing his hand against Alexander. "His body is still warm because he's not completely dead. Because there's something keeping him from completely dying. And I think... I think it's my father."

"The demon?!" their collective voices rang out.

"I know Furcas. It doesn't matter if he has a plan behind all of this or not. He would never let a valuable asset like my son simply end up in the OverWorld. So... I think right before Alexander's mind and soul ascended, Furcas snatched it for himself. And since his very essence isn't the right possession right now..."

"Wait, wait, wait," Anastasia interjected. "That means that..."

"It means... Alexander is still alive."