Chapter 94: 987 Years Ago (4)
Marbas Sallos's Perspective (Third-Person)
Like most, Marbas's day consisted of him making the usual rounds through Bratus as the city's entrusted Governor, ensuring that its logistics, staff management, income reports, and the rest of its internal affairs were all up to snuff. Securing him the sought-after praise he seldom received from his Mother for a job well maintained, for it was one of his life's greatest pleasures, right beneath the joy he felt when he spent his time with his cherished little sister.
"Whew, finally," he breathed an exasperated yawn, stretching his arms out wide as he sat on the most prestigious desk Bratus's City Hall had to offer. Like most bureaucrats, he had to suffer through the seemingly never-ending slog of piling up paperwork funneled through a highly inefficient system, which more likely than not wouldn't be fixed until a certain technological devil genius was born five hundred years into the future.
Nonetheless, as per usual, he always found the strength to push through. It was the only way he'd be able to find the time to pester Malphas around the clock without getting stunlocked into a procrastination-induced slew of work affairs.
"It's only been a day, though, so she probably hasn't woken up yet." He wore a dramatic expression of dejection while sighing to himself, one which his Secretary made the wise decision to ignore—
As per usual.
She had quickly come to learn that Marbas's insistent whining about not being able to spend more time around his sister was an unavoidable occupational hazard of being under his employ. For the sake of her own sanity, it was best to just drown everything out or respond with an unattentive, unenthusiastic nod or hum of false affirmation.
Marbas got up and moved towards the window, putting one foot up on its ledge as if he were about to bolt out at a moment's notice. "Whelp, I'll be off then. Take care, alright?" He waved his Secretary farewell, receiving naught but a haphazard gesture in return.
He then proceeded to use his passable aptitude for Elemental Manipulation to create a momentum-boosting gust of wind, propelling him forward as he unsheathed his wings from his lower waist and made way for his family's compound, located in a restricted area far out on the city's outskirts.
"Hm?" As he soared over the territory, he noticed his bizarre, stark inability to notice Morax's presence, who usually arrived home before him. His Mother and Malphas always kept theirs hidden, so not being able to sense them was the norm.
Curious, he landed at the entrance of the territory, remembering the usual path contained within his Mother's ward, where he wouldn't be attacked by any of the demonic creatures lurking throughout the brush.
"Is she running late?" Despite it doing no favors for his 'reputation', Marbas had an uncanny ability to recognize his family's residuals—
Footsteps included.
None of which he could see present in the soil.
Marginally concerned, Marbas continued towards the compound on foot, simultaneously searching for any signs of his sister's arrival.
"Don't tell me she channeled one of the Baels to a spar again?" He felt the urge to facepalm in resignation. "Good grief, one day that girl is going to get herself seriously—"
"Hurt?"
Startled by the sudden interruption, Marbas flinched, eyes widened in alarm.
"M-Malphas?"
To his vast puzzlement, his youngest sibling was standing right behind him, her ribcage leaning against a tree with her arms confidently folded and held close to her chest. The sight of an inconceivably rare smirk that didn't quite reach her eyes on her face immediately let Marbas know something was up.
For this was the first time he had seen the corners of her mouth turned anywhere but down.
"For once, you had the wisdom to use my actual name." She drew a light, yet hollow bout of laughter. "Had the circumstances been different, that might've done you a favor or two. What a shame, dear Brother of mine. Truly."
"Circumstances?" He narrowed his eyes, his posture drawing back in instinctual apprehension, the polar opposite of how he usually acted in Malphas's presence. All the while, his eyes darted from side to side, his mind clinging to the lofty to wish to see something—anything that'd hint to Morax or his Mother's presence.
But his efforts were futile. Both visually and through his limited supernatural sensory prowess.
"She isn't here," as if peering into his mind, Malphas answered her brother's unasked question. "Mother isn't here either. Well, physically they are, strictly speaking, but I think someone even as bird-brained as yourself should be able to grasp what I mean."
For Marbas, those words sent a series of rapid, disorientating changes throughout his form: shallow, quickened breath, pupils constricting into tiny, terrified dots, sweat perspiring on the surface of his palms, and overall demeanor that screamed the word 'shaken'.
Malphas's expression, on the other hand, seemed to come alive with wonder. "Oh! So that's what fear felt like to Mother all this time! Sister didn't see it coming, so I wasn't able to sense anything but momentary shock. Hah, what an interesting sensation!"
Contrary to what one would expect of someone who had all but confessed to something horrendous, the look on Malphas's face was not that of a cold-blooded killer, but rather an enlightened scholar who had just made some kind of revolutionary breakthrough.
"At first glance, you wouldn't think that alone would provide you a tactical advantage, but for someone without extensive combat experience, and even those with it, it could help you spot openings you wouldn't usually find, especially in opponents who have trained themselves to mask their tells." Malphas nodded to herself as she spoke, cupping her chin while posing like Auguste Rodin's Thinker. "How very useful."
As Malphas rambled, Marbas found himself in a state of complete shellshock. His sister's words weren't completely cut and dry, but anyone with one-fourth of the average person's brain capacity could put two and two together, attitude and all.
With trembling breath, Marbas forced a series of words out of his mouth. "M-Malphas… now isn't the time for jokes. Morax and Mother are inside, aren't they—?"
"Jokes?" Carrying genuine confusion, Malphas tilted her head to the side. "Oh, you're experiencing denial now, another emotion I've yet to sense through my Mother's lens," facepalming, she let out a disappointed exhale. "I guess you really are that bird-brained after all. Fine then, I'll spell it out for you if that's what needs to be done."
Slowly, she started to claw her hand shut, causing the trees in the surrounding area to all twist and turn at an unnatural angle, forming together to create an impromptu dome that effectively shut her and Marbas off from the rest of the territory.
"W-Wood Manipulation?" Starstruck, Marbas staggered backwards, his spine thudding against the interior of the wooden dome. "H-How can you—"
"Enough with the stuttering, please." Malphas raised her hand, slowly pacing towards her brother with a posture that exuded absolutely no signs of aggression whatsoever. At least from Marbas's startled, clearly disoriented perspective of terror and trepidation. "I can only endure a conversation with you for so long, which is why I'm going to do you the favor of making this quick and painless, alright? So cease with the yammering."
"Q-Quick and painless?! Malphas! This isn't funny—!"
As Malphas had done with her Mother, a lightning quick, clean crescent of wind severed its way through Marbas's neck, putting an end to the last living member of House Sallos, herself excluded.
"Sister was right about me, you know? It's not my fault you were too foolish to listen, or take a hint from the thousands of thrashings I had handed you." Dispassionate as ever, Malphas reached out and absorbed her brother's ability into her own, making her the newly minted possessor of his Dryadic Blessing. "Although even if you had listened, you lacked the strength to save yourself from this."
She proceeded to inspect her own hand, letting out a placid, thoughtful hum as a warm, light-green aura blanketed her skin.
"At least the three of you will be able to live vicariously through me," she sneered. "Not that you would've done much better on your own. You all had centuries to perfect your strengths, yet you were bested by a thirteen-year-old with the ability to conjure a little wind here and there. If anything, you should be thanking me for taking on the responsibility to raise your powers to the level they deserve."
For now, she had finished what she had set out to do. The fate of her family's compound, operations, and legacy meant absolutely nothing to her. She had openly chosen to walk down the path of endless yearning for power, and that's exactly what she planned to do from this point onwards. Train. Refine. Repeat. Again and again.
Until she either perished or became a truly peerless existence.
Even-paced, Malphas began her return to the compound, intent on checking out her Mother's study to find anything that could potentially bolster the research on her own, newly acquired abilities that were to come. She didn't think the woman to be smarter than herself, but she was most certainly the most intelligent amongst her three family members.
"So this is what has become of my creator's last-ditch effort."
Or at least, that was the plan.
"Although I can't seem to decide whether to call this a confirmation of failure, or the beginning of success."
Stupefied that Malphas had been snuck up on by a presence she had failed to sense, her body whipped around with considerable sharpness, wariness, and caution written all over her face as she stared a hole through the middle-aged man that had popped up behind her.
He carried himself with notable dignity and grace, his neatly-combed, windswept hair gently swaying amidst the breeze as his violet eyes remained fixated on the corpse beneath him, Marbas's freshly-decapitated corpse.
There was no hatred or indignation in his voice, let alone the slightest hint of frustration of any kind. His gaze was more akin to that of a scientist witnessing the unexpected outcome of an experiment, contemplative and focused.
"I suppose you're the only one who can answer that for me."
Gradually, his attention drifted away from the fallen Sallos onto the only one that was still living, his purple and gold robe, encrusted with the motif of a lion fluttering at the ends as he paced towards her. Filled with curiosity and expectation.
"...Zekram Bael," Malphas cared little for the people that made up the Underworld's population, but she'd have to be a different breed of apathetic not to recognize the entity standing before her.
"That is I," he nodded. "I've kept careful watch over your bloodline ever since its Ancestor was brought into existence alongside myself, always clutching the wishful hope that my creator's supposedly lost Creation would return to our species close to my chest. Our only chance at restoring the 72 Pillars to their former radiance."
Malphas narrowed her eyes, justifiably guarded. "In that case, I imagine the deaths of three Sallos have rendered you fairly disappointed?"
"Disappointed?" He repeated in an unfamiliar tone. "On the contrary, none of your kin managed to awaken her Creation, let alone anything that even resembled that power. Their deaths may be mourned in the short term, but most certainly not in the long term."
"I haven't awakened it either," she still wasn't sold.
"That goes without saying," he breathed a light, lifeless chuckle. "But you awakened something new, truly new, amongst your line. That alone is worth my undivided attention, for it may lead down a road that beckons the return of a power I yearn to see wielded among our species again."
He reached his hand out towards Malphas, a rare display of eagerness evident on the usually emotionless Bael's face.
"Though you have indeed caused quite the mess here, it's nothing I can't clean up with the proper forecaution and diligence. Which is why I'd like you to come with me to the Bael Estate, so we may discuss your future."
"My future?" Zekram's reputation was always that of a ruthless pragmatist, unsurprisingly, his willingness to come to Malphas's aid came off as dubious.
"Yes," he answered. "You wish for power, yes? Talent is an important prerequisite, something you seem to possess in spades. But the resources to supplement that talent are just as important, if not more, in the long run. As it stands, I am the only one who would ever show any interest in providing you with said resources."
However, Malphas's newly-acquired lifeforce perception told her that Zekram meant every last word of it. He truly believed that she could somehow make his dream of seeing Lilith's Creation exist among devilkind once more come alive.
Personally, she couldn't care less about his ambition.
But logically, resources were indeed something she'd need help to acquire until she grounded herself atop a solid foundation.
Thus, this day became the day Malphas Sallos was brought into House Bael.
---
Alduin Buné's Perspective (First-Person)
The playback of memories ended, all of which I had seen through my Mother's perspective… a woman who I apparently didn't even know the true name of until now. Hah. Talk about tragic. This whole time, I thought I was just beginning to understand who she was and what made her the person she is today—only to be proven wrong by the biggest reality-checking slap in the face I think I've ever received.
Marth— Malphas, quite literally, gave up the opportunity to be anyone else other than who she is in exchange for awakening her bloodline. She didn't just choose a path, she made herself soulbound to its trajectory for all eternity. The fact that there wasn't even a nanosecond of hesitation between her awakening and her decision to plunder the abilities of her kin is a testament to that.
Part of me can't help but wonder what would've become of her had she decided to fail the ceremony.
Not that there's any value in brooding over that, the past can't be changed after all.
"Interesting, you aren't reacting the way I expected you to."
Since I awoke not to the room Yasaka had prepared for me, but my own mindscape, the first voice I heard was naturally that of my 'dragon'. An entity I have most certainly not released from my suspicion.
"And what way would that be?"
"Disgust," he started to circle me, eyeing me up in a way I found particularly off-putting. "The woman you decided to put your neck on the line to protect proved herself to be more of a monster than you already believed her to be. Shouldn't that arouse your ire?"
I couldn't help but scoff. "That statement alone proves how meager your understanding of me is. I may wear it more openly than I used to, but I have always been exceptionally biased towards her. Why would I anguish over the deaths of ancestors I've never known?"
He frowned. "Perhaps because you also happen to be her kin, and thus, meet the prerequisite to have your power stolen by her as well?"
"She's welcome to try," I smiled with a possible excess of smugness and self-assurance. "If I'm unable to defend myself against her despite all my gifts, then maybe I don't deserve to keep them in the first place, wouldn't you agree?"
"From a standpoint of principles, sure," he pressed his lips together. "But personally, I'd rather not have my existence erased or robbed because you were too doe-eyed to acknowledge the threat that woman poses to you, especially now that you know the full extent of just how obsessed she is with attaining more power."
"First of all, I'm well aware of how dangerous she is. And secondly," a predatory grin stretched across my mouth. "It's funny you mention that, 'you' having your existence erased or robbed. Because, as far as I'm aware, I've yet to be informed who exactly it is 'you' are. Mm?"
Awkward, deafening silence followed as I maintained a sharp, unyielding stare on his face. Even the Biblical God himself showing up outside right here and now isn't going to save him from answering me.
His posture drew back, turning rigid with about the level of gravity I expected from him, considering the circumstances. "I'm part of the reason your Mother became what she is."
"Oh?" I smoldered, leaning back to give him all the floor he needed. "Do elaborate."
"That sentence alone should be enough for you to connect the dots, but very well, if you insist," he exhaled. "I'm the one who planted that tree."
"Tree—?" I paused, stopping myself in a moment of sharp, stinging realization. "No. Surely not—"
"I'm afraid so."
His voice, instead of coming out as its usual reflection of mine, underwent a drastic, impossible to not notice change that caught me by surprise.
It was that of a woman's.
Without warning, bright-red currents of energy started to circle him, masking his form from view, but leaving his silhouette still visible.
A silhouette that was unequivocally in the process of undergoing some kind of transformation. Its outline was no longer that of mine, but that of a slim-figured, notably well-endowed older woman. Almost a replica of Mother's, save for a few minute differences in height and various other measurements that my hyper-perceptive eyes were capable of picking up on.
As it occurred, I couldn't help but press my hand against my forehead in deliberation, a few cracks appearing on my mask of composure in the form of beads of sweat.
Of course, this somehow ends up happening to ME of all people! Of course it does!
Whenever I think my life can't get any more complicated, reality just loves to throw something like this at my face, doesn't it?
Starting from the top down, her appearance started to unveil from beneath the swirling currents of bright-red energy, revealing long, luscious strands of crimson hair, a distinct shade brighter than a Gremory's, and fashioned into twintails that were both looser and messier than Serafall's. A hairstyle that had no business existing on the scalp of someone from an era as aged and forlorn as hers.
Oh, and for whatever reason, she had a black beret on with white highlights, alongside a white-colored blouse that reached down towards her skirt, a pair of elbow-length gloves, and thigh-high socks. In the most literal sense possible, there wasn't a single piece of her uniform that existed in her era, or a thousand years after it—
Or another thousand after that.
Her eyes were a mix between blue and gray, filled with the wisdom and experience of someone who had lived much too long, even by supernatural standards, boasting a lifespan that only the Gods themselves could ever deem brief.
But that wasn't all.
Hidden beneath the poise and bravado of a truly experienced existence was a mountain's worth of pent-up resentment and disdain, a gaze I'd only expect to live on the face of someone who believed themselves to have been wronged on a cosmic scale.
"Regrettably, I wasn't able to properly introduce myself to you earlier, but you weren't exactly in a stable enough position for me to do so without running the risk of being caught by that old bag of bones. Of course, now that you have the full support of the new Lucifer, that situation's changed." She gripped the hems of her skirt, performing a slight, courteous dip. "I am Lilith. The Mother of Devils. Your Ancestor. It's a pleasure to get acquainted with you properly this time, Alduin of House Buné."
Momentarily, I fell into a state of slack-jawed silence. A response that clearly didn't do Lilith, THE Lilith, THAT Lilith's nerves any favors. There were about a hundred, maybe even a thousand different ways I could respond to this situation. Some aggressive. Some diplomatic. Some a mix of the two.
But in the end, instinct decided to take the reins in place of my inability to decide.
"What's with the get-up?"
She blinked, palpably taken aback by my lack of aggression, or forwardness of any kind, for that matter.
"What does it matter? It looks good on me, doesn't it?" In the blink of an eye, she trashed her cautionary demeanor in favor of a mischievous, lustful smile, followed by the motion of her palms sliding down her figure, up and over her breasts, all the way down to the insides of her thighs. "I've returned to a different era, so I thought I might as well try to fit in." She winked at me. "A sight for sore eyes, no?"
"Sure," I shrugged dismissively, much to her disappointment.
"Sheesh, you really have become all doom-and-gloom as of late, haven't you? It's not that I'm against seeing your mind sharpen, but I hope it's not at the cost of you becoming a total bore." Lilith's mouth twisted into a deliberate, marginally childish pout.
"Can't help it, life's been nothing but doom-and-gloom for me lately, granted, most of it's a product of my own design." I returned a weak attempt at playfulness. "Besides, theatrics cost energy. I can't really afford to muster up the energy to perform them while I'm doing my damndest to remain sane."
"Ah, you don't have to worry about losing your sanity, not really," Lilith reassured me. "You may have to fight off madness here and there, but as long as you have your anchor, true insanity will forever elude you."
"Anchor?" I smoldered in response to the unfamiliar term.
"A source of stability, for lack of better words," she began her explanation. "At first, you believed that to be the maid and the horned one, which, for a time, worked as a placebo. But neither of them possessed the strength of body, mind, or will to truly anchor someone such as yourself. I've known that from the beginning, but you weren't ready to hear that, so I kept it to myself until I believed you were ready to hear the truth."
In that instance, I was met with the sensation that could only be described as profoundly bizarre.
"You needn't introspect, I already know what you're thinking." She boldly interrupted the train of thought I was about to form. "You're wondering where your usual anger's gone, the usual indignation you feel when someone badmouths those two. The same kind you expressed towards me when I brought up a similar subject not too long ago. Correct?"
I allowed her to take my perturbed, somewhat hesitant silence as confirmation.
"It's because deep down, you've already realized they simply cannot keep up with you anymore. I won't lecture you on whether I think their feelings are grounded or misguided, however, continuing to latch onto them with the expectations of a functional relationship is no different than demanding a toddler carry the weight of a mountain. Should you insist on clinging to them, sooner or later, they will burn in your light. It's not a matter of if, but when."
A tremble coursed through my digits as doubt and uncertainty spread through every recess of my mind—
Accompanied by a sprinkle of comprehension.
"So that's it then?" I let out a dry, humorless chuckle. "I don't love them anymore, just like that?"
"Ah, ah, ah," Lilith wagged her finger at me. "I never said that. Your feelings towards them are very much real, but emotions aren't what matters here. This is a matter of reality, and the reality is that you are not compatible with them. Not in the least. If you try to force a shape into the wrong slot, you'll only end up damaging the latter, and in this case, the damage dealt will be too great to repair."
The trembling worsened.
"I'd be poison to them," I rasped under my breath, dejected as could be.
"Unfortunately," she nodded somberly. "However, that doesn't mean you'll be alone. Putting aside the possible relationships you'll form in the future, there's someone in your life who's been keeping you together all this time. Intentionally or unintentionally."
I already knew the name was about to leave her mouth.
"Mother," I answered.
"Yes," she wore an approving smile. "No matter what you become, to her, you'll always be you. She'll always insult you the same. Sprinkle sparse praise on you, the same. Expect things from you to be the same. Analyze yourself the same. So on and so forth. You may have inherited some of the traits you deem to be 'bad' from her, but as long as she's around, you will never be alone in possessing those traits. You'll always have a direct family member to serve as a perfect reflection for you to peer in."
I inhaled sharply. "She's constant, unchanging. She's horrible, but I can always count on her to be her. And she's strong, more than strong enough to be an unyielding variable in my life. She's also obsessed enough with strength to 'keep up' with me, as you've put it."
"Mhm. Mhm." Lilith's face twisted with cattish mischief. "And she's hot as hell, sharp eyes, thin lips, tall, broad hips, big tit—"
Thwack!
I flicked my hand, summoning a pillar of earth from the soil and shooting it upwards towards Lilith, hitting her square in the chin.
"That's my Mother you're talking about."
"And I'm her Ancestor! So what? I can talk about her however I please!" She snapped, forcing her jaw back into position. "I honestly don't see why you're so touchy about this. Back in my day, it was perfectly normal for—"
"People are to be complete weirdos. Yeah, yeah." I rolled my eyes, uninterested in giving her words any weight. "Your era was filled with all sorts of bizarre personalities and traditions, which totally ended up working out for you all, didn't they? I mean, just look at Zekram—he's the shining symbol of prosperity and stability."
"Ugh, Zekram," Lilith's mood was quick to sour at the mere mention of his name. "I never liked that one. Even for a devil, he schemed way too hard. Always 'duty this', 'duty that'. What's the point of all that planning and plotting if you don't secure your own position to actually enjoy the fruits of your labor? If he really was as smart as he liked to think he was, he'd put all that effort into growing his personal strength. I thought Ri-Ri's birth would've taught him that lesson, but apparently not."
"Ri-Ri?" I questioned, pretending as if I didn't find her opinion of Zekram immensely entertaining.
"Rizevim. My only natural-born child, conceived not through my Creation."
My eyelids lifted in recognition. "The Slothful Prince?"
"Is that what they're calling him nowadays?" She hummed.
"It's a title he earned during the Civil War for refusing to pick either side."
"Huh," it didn't seem like she had much to add. "That boy was quite the rascal, but I always preferred him over the others. He was far less stuck-up, unlike a certain someone. And he had a habit of always living as freely as he possibly could, a characteristic worth my admiration."
A faint buzz trickled through the atmosphere, brought on primarily when Lilith uttered the word 'freely'.
Already, I had a few theories swirling around in my brain, but I chose to keep them to myself as a courtesy.
For now.
"We've probably talked enough about our families for the time being, haven't we? Especially when there are more pressing matters to address." I shot her a knowing glare. "Lilith. I'm going to keep this short and simple." I held up my fingers. "Two questions. Why, and how are you here?"
"The 'why' is easy," Lilith answered. "To escape the thousands of years' worth of torture and humiliation I was suffering at the hands of that wretched skull. Hades."
I remained silent, giving her all the space and time she needed to explain.
"Naturally, when I perished during the Great War, my soul was brought under to his abominable domain. And for some incomprehensible reason, he found me 'amusing', like a rare bird to be caged and gawked at for the rest of time. My soul didn't require any real form of sustenance to remain alive as long as I was in his domain, but it still felt like I was degrading, day after day, week after week, month after month, year after year, decades, centuries, millennia, endless monotony. Unable to experience the same state of rest as all the other souls trapped with me."
Lilith's eyes glazed over as she recounted, transforming her gaze into a faraway, thousand-yard stare that spoke volumes about the sheer level of despair she had experienced at the hands of Hades.
"Throughout it all, I held on tight to the sole belief that my consciousness was a means, albeit a flimsy one, at opening some kind of path to vengeance. A wishful thought that I'd somehow resurrect and figure out how to torture him in return just as he did to me." A lifeless, obsessed expression overcame her. "In hindsight, that was probably the only defense mechanism my brain could come up with to keep me sane."
"Like an anchor," I provided a bleak window of humor.
"Yes, I suppose so." Her reaction was about as enthusiastic. "Anyhow, out of the blue, I experienced this strange pull—a pull so powerful it seemed to effortlessly pierce through the veil of Hades's domain and make its way straight to my soul. Beckoning me to answer its call, and allow it to drag me wherever."
"And since you had nothing else going for you, you decided you might as well gamble on something."
"Precisely," she nodded, spreading her arms out wide and gesturing to my mindscape. "The pull brought me here, into your mindscape during your awakening ceremony, and merged my soul with that of what was supposed to be your dragon's. Practically speaking, I am not what a typical Buné dragon should be, but I am indeed your dragon. That much is certain."
I hummed inquisitively, still skeptical. "Then why aren't you able to reflect me 1:1?"
"Because the capacity in which I'm allowed to act as your dragon isn't decided by me," Lilith pointed behind me.
"Ah," there was no use in looking, after all, there was only one entity in my mindscape with authority somehow greater than my own. A pill I still find fairly troublesome to swallow. "I presume she's the one responsible for bringing you here in the first place?"
"Indeed, although I am just as clueless as you are as to why she decided to do so." A glimmer of reverence shone through Lilith's pupils. "Not that I'm ungrateful."
"I don't suppose I can finally be told who, or what she—" I stopped myself, noticing that Lilith's attention had been redirected elsewhere. "What?"
She clicked her tongue. "It seems we'll have to cut this conversation short. The Leviathan girl's approaching you, and she seems to be pretty angsty," she coughed. "And that's putting it lightly."
I drew a resigned breath.
This had better be worth my time.
"Very well then. Until we next meet."
///
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