"Do not take this as a threat to you, Sire," said the legate, nodding at his revolvers. "Think of it more as a demonstration, designed to underscore the gravity of this conversation."

Despite what I've heard, I don't doubt for a moment that Abel would pull those triggers if he deemed it necessary. And I'm painfully aware that I can't make a sudden move right now. Any abrupt movement or my disappearance into the Break would have immediate consequences.

No matter how swift a raig may be in the Break, the inquisitor would have enough time to fire a shot.

Without making any sudden movements, I reached for a glass, filled it with juice, and took a long drink. All the while, Abel remained silent, and Zanh Kiem, feeling the cold steel barrels against his head, seemed to be trying not to even blink.

"I hope you realize," I began, putting the empty glass back on the table without raising my voice, "that no matter how this conversation ends, after your 'demonstration', you won't be leaving here alive."

I wasn't joking, I wasn't threatening, I was simply stating a fact. I can't allow Abel de Diaz to live after this stunt. He's too unpredictable, too cruel, too clever for someone of his power. All these 'too's' convince me that I have to kill the legate. I don't want to, but I feel I must. Moreover, I'm certain he's not bluffing, and his actions don't threaten me personally. And it's not because I'm 'his king', no, it's because if I were to die, the Treaty he detests would automatically be extended, something that would clearly displease de Diaz.

"Don't concern yourself with that matter, Sire," he said, a sincere smile on his face that frightened me more than the revolvers. "Before coming here, I settled all my affairs in this world."

How wrong I'd been all this time! I'd misunderstood Abel de Diaz's motives. I thought he, seeing me as the reincarnation of his respected ancestor, had taken it upon himself to look after me. But in reality... In reality, he protects me only because I'm the only person in nearly a thousand years who can break the Treaty he despises. The Treaty that puts the people of this world in a subordinate position. To him, I'm not a 'respected ancestor', but a valuable tool that must be preserved until it has served its purpose. And that's a crucial difference. Attempting to sway him with the authority of El Cid, or ordering him in the name of 'his king', won't even bring a smile to the legate's face.

"Can't you come up with a more convincing than this threat, legate?" I ask, struggling to keep my calm.

"I had thought of several plans for our conversation, Sire," he shrugged dismissively. "I regret that I had to resort to this one."

"So you're saying you were forced to take the revolvers?" I retorted sarcastically. "Let me guess... It was I who compelled you to such actions."

"As always, Sire, you are very perceptive," Abel responded coolly. "Indeed, it was you."

"And how so?" I asked, unable to hold back my curiosity.

"Upon seeing your demeanor, I realized quite clearly..." The legate sighed heavily, grimaced, but continued nonetheless, "You will put off the issue of the Treaty as long as possible. And, most likely, you will rush to save the World without passing your verdict. In this regard, you are strikingly similar to your past self... El Cid spent more than half a year of seclusion in a monastery before solidifying his resolve and making a decision. And I wouldn't say the decision you face now is any simpler than the one he had to make."

"This isn't a decision that can be made hastily," I admitted.

"You only confirmed my suspicions when you implied that you wouldn't pass a verdict on the Treaty until after dealing with the End of the World. Allow me to remind you of your own words: 'Without addressing the first issue, the second becomes irrelevant.'"

He was right. The issue of the Treaty did concern me, but I didn't see the need to make a decision before finding the Door. What's the point of deciding anything if the World could collapse at any moment? That was my reasoning, and it clearly didn't sit well with the legate.

"Sire, you must resolve this issue today," Abel de Diaz's voice was as cold as a glacial wind. "Here and now." To reinforce his words, his fingers applied slight pressure to the triggers.

"And if I refuse?" I knew exactly what he was implying, but I wanted him to spell it out.

"If you persist in your refusal to make a decision, Sire, then young Zanh will die today."

"As will you - a second after him," I retorted, trying to turn the tables.

"As I explained, Sire, the value of my life or death is not something that concerns me," Abel de Diaz's face was devoid of emotion, his gaze as calm as if he were pondering what to order for dinner.

"Why do you think I care so much about Zanh Kiem's life? A Break Knight's curator from the clerics has already died recently, and I can't say his death affected me significantly."

"Hyungang Tu Chong," the legate nodded. "One of the noblest and purest individuals I've encountered in my long life."

So they knew each other? Not that it matters now.

"But young Zanh is different..." Abel continued. "He's different to you." He tilted his head, his voice dropping a notch. "Once, long before the emergence of the shapeshifters, you, in a previous life, captured a castle near Salamanca ruled by the Moors. The siege was brutal and bloody. The castle held significant strategic value. Yet, three days later, you surrendered it without resistance, trading it for the life of your captured friend. I firmly believe that your soul hasn't altered greatly in this incarnation, and you still value the lives of your friends deeply."

He was correct in many ways, but he was slightly off the mark here.

"No matter how I feel about Zanh Kiem..." I struggled with the words. "The matter of the Treaty is more important than his life."

I truly hoped that Zanh understood my words correctly. I didn't want to lose him, he was the closest person to me in this world, but I couldn't follow the legate's lead when millions of lives hung in the balance.

"You still have to make this decision," the legate shrugged. "My demonstration is not intended to sway you towards a particular decision, it's merely to ensure that a decision is made and not left to chance."

"Really?" My surprise was almost genuine. "I thought you were pushing for a specific decision, namely, the abolition of the Treaty!"

"You're not wrong, Sire. But! My desires are not so important. I'm not forcing you, Sire, to make the decision I prefer."

"Of course! Sure!" My voice dripped with sarcasm. "And your revolvers at the back of Zanh Kiem's head mean nothing, right?"

"I repeat, Sire," the legate spoke to me as though I were a child. "My revolvers are only a demonstration, not blackmail to favor one decision over the other."

I found it hard to understand him. At all. Zanh Kiem had been right, suggesting it's impossible to predict the thoughts of someone who has lived as long as a legate. Just like a fifteen-year-old often fails to comprehend the motives of a seventy-year-old, we might not understand the logic of someone as long-lived as Abel.

"So why did you come today, right now, and not, say, tomorrow or a week from now?" I couldn't think of a way to save Zanh Kiem from the revolvers, so I stalled by asking this question.

"What's wrong with today?" The legate feigned confusion. "The sun is shining, the weather is good, the sky is clear." He then smiled and added, "Actually, even by tomorrow, young Zanh would have recovered enough from the heart attack, and such a ploy would not have been possible..." He slightly adjusted the revolvers. "So easily."

Judging by the look on the Maker's face, de Diaz was right. No matter how formidable Abel might be, Zanh Kiem was not just some random guy off the street, he had been the former head of the Third Palm of Bodhidharma. He might have been slightly less powerful than the Dark Inquisitor, but the major difference lay in their experience, where de Diaz had the upper hand. However, right now, the cocked revolvers at the back of the Maker's head neutralized any attempts he could have made to resist the legate.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

"Was this trick really necessary?" I asked.

"Don't you think so?" The Inquisitor asked, sounding a bit surprised. "Even now, Sire, when your friend's life is truly at stake, and trust me, it is, you're still more concerned about anything but the Treaty. I dare say that without this demonstration, the most I would've gotten from you is a promise to make a decision as soon as possible. A promise that likely would've just been left hanging in the air."

He was probably right again. Neither option appealed to me. Breaking the pact and extending it were both almost equally distasteful. In one case, the result would have been a bloody global civil war, complete with the destruction of infrastructure logistics and the power vertical. In the other, the subservient position of ordinary people would continue to be enshrined in global law. When the choices were this bad, it was hard to want to choose at all.

As for Abel and his claim that he would accept my decision, I thought I understood why he said that. It was because he had managed to read me better than I knew myself.

If, after writing the comic, I had been convinced that the right choice was to extend the Treaty and gradually change the world, then the Legate's story about the subjugation of people to shapeshifters being ingrained in the laws of the world significantly altered my view. The question of whether it was better to lose free will or wage a bloody war to gain that freedom had come up more than once in human history. Different nations had chosen different solutions. And if I had to choose between the two options presented to me, well... There was a reason I used to wear t-shirts emblazoned with Che Guevara in my past life. Somehow, Abel figured out which option I was leaning towards, but he wasn't certain that my decision wouldn't change. Or perhaps, after my near-death experience at the hands of the witch, which would have automatically renewed the Treaty, he didn't want to take any more chances. Most likely, having weighed all the risks, the Legate had decided to take this course of action.

There were indeed such risks. Could I have died in the next Breakthrough? Possibly. Might Eshin's remnants have been lurking somewhere, yearning to annihilate me? Perhaps. Or could it be that the Heir's analysts had figured out who Maestro was a reincarnation of, and Lair Gluathon would order my termination? It's possible.

And, weighing these possibilities, Abel de Diaz had opted to take a direct approach, despite understanding that, regardless of his actions, I could renew the Treaty merely as a resistance to his pressure. However, it won't be like that; regardless of how enraged or furious I am, my current personal emotions won't influence my decision.

Without altering his stance or lowering his revolvers, the legate broke the silence:

"There's no need for any rituals, Sire. Simply state aloud, 'I break the First Treaty' or 'I renew the First Treaty,' and you'll feel a certain pressure in your soul, a request from the World. By accepting or rejecting this pressure, you validate your statement. That's all there is to it. No special rituals or anything of the sort. Terminating or extending the Treaty is not the same as signing it; it's much simpler in this case."

As he spoke, I noticed an odd twitch in the Maker's eyes. Trying to conceal my observation, I studied him more closely. Indeed, Zanh Kiem appeared to be trying to communicate something. His pupils were moving too swiftly and sharply for it to be considered 'natural.'

"I need time," I said, injecting as much determination in my voice as possible while simultaneously trying to decipher what the Maker wanted from me.

"You have it, Sire, not much, but you have it," Abel replied, following up with a clarification. "Until my hands tire from holding these revolvers. And honestly, they're quite heavy."

"What's the point of all this?" I asked, feigning boredom in my tone. "The World is on the brink of destruction. Does the Treaty matter at this point? Why condemn the World to civil war when it might only have a few days left to exist?"

"Exactly!" The legate's voice echoed, filled with a sense of righteous conviction. "All the more reason! Especially if the World is destined to perish, Sire, I implore you! Let humanity at least die free!"

I had never considered this problem from this perspective, and the legate's argument had knocked all my prepared rebuttals out of my head.

"So, if the End of the World is imminent, wouldn't it be better to let people live out their final days in peace?" I countered.

In response to my words, Zanh Kiem's eye movements had become even more pronounced. What was he trying to convey? Despite the revolvers pointed at his head, the Maker didn't appear overly terrified. He was tense, certainly, but no more than that. Was he indicating that he could evade the line of fire if I attacked Abel? The problem was, I couldn't mask any message for my ally in my words or gestures. Someone as seasoned as de Diaz would have instantly seen through such a ploy. The situation was further complicated by the fact that everything I thought I knew about the legate's personality was nothing more than a facade he presented to me. Yes, he might genuinely respect me due to one of my past incarnations, but that's as far as it goes.

"You don't believe in what you just said." Abel winced. "Life and death in ignorance - that's layman's logic, not a king's!"

I am just a layman though! Thankfully, I had the sense to keep that thought to myself; I wasn't sure how he would have reacted to that. And as much as I hated to admit it, I did see the legate's logic, even regarding the Treaty, and I was leaning towards breaking it. But what I wanted even less was to choose between these two equally dreadful options.

"You likely misunderstand the consequences of breaking the Treaty, Sire," Abel sighed heavily before continuing. "You probably envision that the moment the Treaty falls apart, the pent-up pressure of mental suppression that has been building for centuries would instantly release, causing an incredible onslaught against shapeshifters. The streets would run red with blood, and there would be countless casualties among ordinary people." In some ways, he was right: I did imagine such scenarios. "But it wouldn't go down that way. There wouldn't be an explosion of sudden brutalities from the people. The reality would be far more mundane and straightforward. It would simply start with the next shapeshifter ruler pulling a stunt somewhere, and this time, the people wouldn't turn a blind eye. They would take to the streets, demanding justice. It would likely be a peaceful protest. And... And the authorities would quash it, as usual. But without the pressure of the Treaty, the people wouldn't just shut up and calm down. Their suppression would trigger protests in neighboring cities... which would also be suppressed. But by then, the momentum would be unstoppable. It wouldn't be an explosion, but a slow, relentless spread of fire. And those who don't want to participate would have time to step aside. There would even be a good number of shapeshifters who would side with ordinary people. Knowing the local ruler, Novilter might even be the first country in the world to voluntarily accept the new world order! But you're right, a civil war is on the horizon. However, it wouldn't be excessively bloody - no bloodier than the hundreds of wars this world has already witnessed."

"Yet, you admit, the destruction of the Treaty would trigger an unraveling of the delicate energies bound by it! This would set off a spring of discontent, releasing centuries of pent-up energies. Granted, it might not be an instant explosion, and the world may not burn in a day; perhaps it would take a month or two... But by historical standards, it would be as if the world were set ablaze instantly; a World Civil War would be on the horizon. The Treaty is a bomb, only to be detonated as a last resort," I didn't add "and it's better to disarm the bomb," as I had no idea how to do that.

"The First Treaty is an ulcer on the body of the world!" Abel insisted. "I hope you understand it must be broken! Even at this price!"

"But that's not the full cost," I interjected. "After its termination, a massive redistribution of power will ensue! And like any global reshuffling, the initial casualties, those directly slain in the violence, will only be a fraction of the total. Many more will die quietly, unnoticed. From hunger, cold, lack of medicine or medical care. The global destruction of logistics and order will sever all trade and technical connections."

"Temporarily," the legate partially agreed. "Also, the initial death toll could be reduced tenfold if the Break Knights sided with the people in this war! And the Knights will follow you, Sire! You cannot fathom the influence Maestro's image has worldwide! You're their idol. With the Creators gone, you, Sire, are now the most powerful man on earth! And not because you possess Metatron. Even without it, you, personally, in this incarnation, ascended from nothing to become a king. The King of raigs!"

"I am not..." My objections fell on deaf ears, and I fell silent.

In the legate's mind, he had constructed a worldview that he found coherent, and no words of mine could sway him, let alone dismantle it.

Clearing my throat, I summoned the strength to continue.

"So, you approach me, the one you yourself dubbed the new king, with threats and weaponry."

"I'm not threatening. Not you, Sire," Abel retorted. "And young Zanh is at fault for becoming a tool in my hands. If he had paid better attention during his training, he wouldn't have fallen into such a rudimentary trap."

The pupils of the Maker darted even faster, as if he was counting down to something, hinting that I needed to act soon or it would be too late. But what was I supposed to do?!

The legate's hands trembled, as if the weapon had grown too heavy for the inquisitor to bear. I was on the verge of admitting Abel was right and conceding to his point. Of two evils, breaking the Treaty was undeniably the bloodier option, but for me, it felt justified. I was nearly convinced when de Diaz spoke again:

"You've ascended to kinghood in this incarnation too."

Zanh Kiem slowly closed his eyes, then blinked rapidly as he reopened them.

"King of the raigs! Though no one has crowned you! So, make a royal decision, Sire!"

If he was correct... If he was, then I couldn't break the Treaty. Nor could I extend it. Both options were unfavorable. But the legate's words sparked a third solution in my mind! There was a significant "but", though. The legate wouldn't comprehend it, wouldn't accept it, not now, at least.

I pray I've correctly discerned the Maker's hints.

"Sire, I beg you, I..."

The legate was still speaking when a familiar roar reached my ears:

"Ra-a-a-a-a-ig!"

Sliding!

I am speed. I am swiftness.

I am raig![1]

A fraction of a second.

An instant.

"Word" and "Purity" strike with unfaltering certainty.

And the legate of the Holy See, the Dark Adept beyond ranks who had lived for more than two centuries, Inquisitor Abel de Diaz, met his end at the hands of what he considered the reincarnation of his great ancestor.

But no matter how quick I was...

I was too late.

A double shot echoed. Two bodies fell onto the rocky beach.

How could this be...

I was so certain...

[1] AN: "raig" - in Catalan (a dialect of Spanish), translates to "lightning." TLN: I found only the "ray" translation, though. Maybe it means a "lightning bolt," which is very close to "ray."