Throne Room
General Ferdind was a large man, towering over Fate, who was six-foot-one. He was at least seven feet tall, with broad shoulders and a square chin. His pitch-black eyes and hair were so dark they seemed to be a window to another world, resembling vantablack in that they seemed like two-dimensional objects in a three-dimensional world.
It made his face, coated with a beard and sideburns, seem like an ill attempt at photoshop. Like all of the Venlanz forces, he had armor of pure white, so thick that he seemed more like a metal statue than a man.
His gaze was placid, and when he spoke, his voice was a deep rumble. "I saw that tactic you used against the Fractured, with the bombardment from the city. Innovative thinking."
Having spoken his mind, he left, lumbering over to the new prisoners of war. Behind Fate, another man stepped forward.
This man had long red hair and green eyes, his white armor of a much lighter variation than Ferdind's, with brown leather armor underneath. He seemed outfitted for scouting more than battle, with a dagger strapped to each thigh and a bow slung on his back next to a half-full quiver. He looked every bit the part of a dashing rogue, and his aura said he was an Exemplar.
He slapped his hand on Fate's shoulder, watching Ferdind leave. "A compliment from General Ferdind. I thought I'd see a cow fly to the moon first, but here we are. I'm Brendan," he said, offering his other hand to Fate.
Fate didn't see a reason to be rude, so he took the man's hand. After a hearty shake, Brendan released his grip on Fate's shoulder and squinted up at the city walls.
"That was brilliant, what you did. Don't think I didn't notice you taking out a Personification and an Incarnation single-handedly either. My eyes are sharp like that."
Fate shrugged, sheathing his Miao Dao. "How much of their total do you think this was?"
"Hard to say. They control a third of this world's land, and their entire lot is bloodthirsty. I think… I think that was maybe ten percent of what they can muster, maybe less."
"A grim notion," Fate said.
His mind then turned to what Micheil had told him before Fate had killed him. How the Fractured were outcasts, shunned by what was once their friends and families and forced to live separated from 'civilized society' like animals.
Then his thoughts flashed to Hedra's last words, or at least, her last attempts at words. He always knew that those he killed had feelings and lives, families and choices. Many had more than he did, but many more were worse off, the beggars and criminals of the world forced into the only option they had.
He recalled Princess Dinan's words to him. She recognized that the Fractured were people like her, despite the way her father and his subjects treated them. She asked him to find a peaceful way to end this war, but Fate wasn't a diplomat. Maya was the only one of their group that ever dabbled in that, determined to make the galaxy a better place.
But for the first time since Fate and his friends escaped from the Advanced, he felt guilty.
"Excellent work, my friend!" King Rathna boomed, laughing boisterously. "You've truly earned the moniker of Destroyer today!"
Fate was in the royal family's palace, within the throne room. Like everything, the room was almost entirely white, from the floor to the walls and ceiling. The throne was at the back of the room, on a raised dais draped in red carpet. The center of the room had a red carpet edged with yellow going from the throne to the doors behind Fate.
The walls were covered in tapestries telling the story of the Ancestor, paintings depicting battles between the Universal and Elemental Embodiments and the Emotional ones, and stone statues of the royal family throughout the generations.
Behind the throne was a banner, on which was a white bolt of lightning cutting across a planet, the land of which was shaped vaguely like an hourglass. The entire room was lit by glowing white crystals. King Rathna was on this throne, Princess Dinan standing off to the side behind him, her head down.
At the bottom of the dais, to the left and right, were twelve men that appeared to be middle-aged, although the Avatar-Level strength coming off each meant they could easily be hundreds of years old. They all wore long white robes with ridiculously wide sleeves; these combined with their conical white hats made them resemble popes. These were King Rathna's advisors.
When King Rathna caught his breath, he continued. "You'll receive entire vaults of treasure when this war is over if you keep this up. Even General Ferdind praised you wholeheartedly. I've never seen the man seem so passionate before. I could've sworn the man almost cracked a smile!"
"Thank you, Your Majesty. If you don't mind, I have something to talk to you about." Fate's guilt wouldn't go away. He knew better than anyone that a killer with a conscience wasn't useful to anyone. So, better to try Princess Dinan's idea.
King Rathna, noticing the seriousness in Fate's gaze, turned sober himself, his grin vanishing. "What is it? You look troubled. What could be weighing on the great Destroyer's mind like this?"
Fate cleared his throat. "Well, Your Majesty. During the battle, I had a short talk with two Personifications—"
"Ah yes, Ferdind mentioned that. An Avatar taking on two Personifications by himself, even winning when one advanced in Level! Truly, you are everything the prophecy promised."
"Yes, well, as I said, I talked with these people. They said some very… thought-provoking things. I was wondering, is there no way we can resolve this war peacefully?"
Rathna's expression darkened in an instant. Behind him, Dinan turned her gaze from the floor. "Father, if I may—"
"You have no place to speak in my court, daughter," Rathna barked, silencing her with a glance. He turned his heavy gaze back to Fate. "Say that again."