Goodbye

Fate was once more in the pretentious palace of Avatar Gregovich, who was once more stuffing himself with food like it was the last he'd ever eat. Unbeknownst to him, it was.

Fate loomed behind the man, the shadows of the dining room ensuring that even without Null, his dark clothes and darker hair would keep him hidden from sight. Gregovich liked to eat his dinner in darkness, shutting the curtains to the large window and gorging on food without thought for appearances.

Fate suspected it had something to do with brooding, as Gregovich ate while frowning, staring at the wall like it held the answer to his problems. He learned on returning to Tangronga that, over the past two weeks that Fate had spent with Robna and the Flaming Crows, Gregovich had been steadily losing influence over his people.

It turned out that Gilliam had been a protégé of his, so Freyda's announcement -- which was an extremely public speech in Frederick's city that was written down religiously into every newspaper on the planet, due to her being one of the few Incarnations Pensinata has – massively discredited the Embodiment of Guilt, made worse by the machinations of the Flaming Crow.

The 'rebel' group had snuck into Gregovich's bedroom, entering the same dimensional room Fate had found his nifty new spatial satchel, and stolen everything they could. They then proceeded to publish everything, having pulled some strings with a local book factory to pump out pamphlets detailing every horrid act the man had done.

Every woman he had had someone procure for Gilliam, every written plot to exploit his citizens with taxes on their income and crops— 'seriously, why did he write that shit down?' – and every 'experiment' for the advancement of his Manifestation was made available to the public, causing his citizens to openly curse his name and many of his guards to resign.

Gregovich, being a politician at heart, didn't violently retaliate to these betrayals, knowing it would just make his public image even worse. So, here he sat, eating food to comfort himself and gazing at the wall like it held the secrets to life, the universe, and everything.

His palace was grossly understaffed now, with just a handful of maids and butlers and over a dozen guards that stayed only for the paycheck. He was alone, both literally and metaphorically.

Fate marveled at how adept the Flaming Crows were at these political games. He at first took them to be warriors, not expecting such manipulative brilliance from them. He made a mental note to not underestimate them again.

He had been standing there watching Gregovich eat for a few minutes now. He figured the man's glum state could help tick his progress to the next Level up, even if just a smidge. At last, the sudden actions of Gregovich provided that small increase he was looking for.

"Siiiiigh… All that money spent on Gilliam, wasted," Gregovich lamented. "And now my own people curse me on the streets, knowing that if I take any action, they can simply flee to that whore Renli's city."

That small statement gave Fate an equally small bit of insight, showing him yet another way that someone's positive could be someone else's negative.

It was barely a drop compared to what he already knew about his Manifestation, really just an astronomically tiny widening of his pool of knowledge on how his Manifestation could show itself in the world, as simple as learning that two men could grow mad at a show's ending to different degrees, and yet such a tiny piece of information yielded the most unexpected result possible.

It took away his Manifest Power's base skill, rendering him once more noticeable to both sight and psychic senses.

He knew immediately that this was what happened because, coupled with the instinctual feeling of being ignored by the world vanishing, Gregovich's head snapped around to Fate the second it happened.

His psychic sense of his Divine Energy no longer hindered by Fate's own, Gregovich's instincts instantly warned him that his Manifest Power was no longer working, the Divine Energy powering it being leeched away by Fate's aura.

A flash of fear passed on the man's face, before he steeled himself, jumping to a stand and roaring "GUAAARDS!" He scooped a steak knife off of the table and pointed it at Fate, one arm raised behind him in a mock fencing stance.

The lack of experience was obvious at a glance; the man was just imitating what he thought fighting to be. Fate knew Gregovich loved spectating sword fighting tournaments held by other Embodiments, the man's misplaced judgment undoubtedly coming from those.

Fate didn't react as five guards armed with pikes stormed through the doors to his left, surrounding him. Two of them threw the curtains open, the sunlight from outside filling the room. Fate crossed his arms.

"You expect this weak little squad to help?" His eyes went from guard to guard, noting the fear present in each one's face. Not a single one was a Prodigy, although there were two psychics present.

"You're all only here for the money, is that really something you'd be willing to die for?" He sent a pulse of Divine Energy out for emphasis.

Three of the guards, including one of the psychics, dropped their spears and hightailed it through the doors, one of them tripping in his rush to get away and continuing on hands and knees.

"Smart men." He turned his attention to the three left. "Now, are you three ready to die?"

"Such arrogance from an outnumbered, unarmed, newbie Avatar," spat Gregovich.

Fate raised an eyebrow. "You can tell that?"

"It's all over your aura," sneered Gregovich.

"Hm. And how am I outnumbered, exactly?" Fate asked as two dull thuds resounded.

Gregovich flinched, looking around in startled alarm to find the only two guards who had stayed laying on the ground, blood leaking from their mouths, their eyes fearful and darting around the room as their life faded.

"You bastard!" Gregovich whipped his head toward Fate, rage coloring his features. "How could you kill innocent men like this? Have you no morals?"

"Trying to take the high road? Really, Gregovich?" Fate's gaze grew heavy on the man, his presence suddenly demanding the Avatar's full attention. Fate sneered under his mask. "Anyone involved with the Advanced has no right to speak of morals."

Gregovich froze, his knuckles whitening as he tightened his grip on the knife. He dropped his raised hand, the other darting to his side to point the knife at an angle toward the ground. The man's face lost all emotion, his body suddenly relaxing.

"That makes things easier," Gregovich said quietly. "Before I was going to take you alive to execute you in front of my subjects.

"Exerting dominance by offing another Avatar would turn them obedient once more, and force the other Embodiments on this nowhere planet to think twice about taking what I've built. Now, though… Now, you've earned a quick death. No one can learn of our exis--"

"Ooh, how dramatic," Fate interrupted, voice dripping with sarcasm. Listening to the speech of the Big Bad was always boring on television, something real life apparently shared. "But you people always say something along those lines before I kill you. You'll just be one name on a long list soon."

He pulled his now-rarely used Dragoon out of its holster and took aim. "Goodbye," he said, and pulled the trigger.