"Injustice!" The Amon Avatar cried out the moment Alaric spoke, protesting loudly. "What bad intentions? I'm just a poor Avatar enslaved by my main body. I wouldn't dare have any bad intentions!"
"Ho!" Alaric raised an eyebrow, his gaze turning curious.
Those words… a normal Amon Avatar wouldn't say them.
Had this one evolved or mutated?
"So, what are you doing in Backlund?" Alaric asked with a grin.
"I came to Backlund for you, Lucifer!" The suspected mutant Amon Avatar said, rummaging in his pocket and pulling out a small booklet. Flipping it open revealed a collection of "Lucifer Stories."
"After you asked the main body to spread your tales, it assigned tasks to us Avatars. Other places were fine, but Backlund's your turf, so no one dared come here…" The Avatar's face twisted into a mix of indignation and misery. "We held another all-Amon vote, and somehow, they rigged it against me. Poor me, the scapegoat… Ahem, anyway, I'm here to help you, Lucifer."
Alaric glanced at the Avatar, chuckling without confirming whether he believed it. He patted the Avatar's head... hard enough to make it wince in pain... and said, "Keep up the good work."
He didn't care if Amon had ulterior motives. Alaric had taken precautions: not only had he made Amon sign a contract under the True Creator's witness, but he'd also asked Mr. Door to place protective measures on Klein and the others just in case. If Amon stepped out of line, he'd face the True Creator's iron fist.
Turning to the War Angel, Alaric said, "Time's almost up. Until next time, Medici."
"Hah, didn't expect to catch a good show before leaving." The War Angel said, shifting his gaze from the Amon Avatar to Alaric, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Hope next time we meet, someone's gained a bit of self-awareness."
"Come on, I'm always self-aware!" Alaric shot back, then glanced at Medici. "Got nothing to say?"
"What's there to say?" Medici looked up at the War Angel, who met his gaze. Two nearly identical pairs of ruby eyes locked, then both scoffed in unison, neither saying more.
Alaric shook his head, saying nothing further, and dispelled the War Angel's summon.
…
Fourth Epoch...
The War Angel opened his eyes to familiar surroundings, back in his own era. Everything that had just happened felt like a dream, yet he knew it was no illusion.
"What's wrong, Medici?" Ouroboros's slightly puzzled voice sounded nearby.
The War Angel remembered what he'd been doing... discussing plans to hunt Sauron and Einhorn with the Serpent and the Lord.
Well, "discussing" was generous. It was mostly him laying out his strategy, as you couldn't expect useful input from Ouroboros, the dim-witted Serpent.
As for the True Creator... even the War Angel, with all his respect for the Lord, couldn't deny that the True Creator of this era was often lost to madness. With enough anchors, he could control himself most of the time, avoiding harm to others... unlike his later self, whose ravings drove followers mad... but he wasn't exactly a reliable strategist.
The War Angel's gaze lingered on the True Creator for a moment before dropping.
He hadn't yet experienced the hot pot incident, so he didn't share the future Medici's uncertainty about facing the True Creator. Still, knowing that future made his feelings complex.
In the end, he said nothing, did nothing. He turned to Ouroboros, the Angel of Fate, and asked abruptly, "Serpent, can you see my fate?"
Ouroboros blinked, then studied the War Angel earnestly. After a few seconds, he shook his head. "I can't see it clearly."
The Fate Pathway granted some foresight, but it came with heavy limitations. You couldn't just peek into anyone's future at will.
At this moment, Ouroboros, the Angel of Fate, truly couldn't discern Medici's fate.
The War Angel wasn't surprised. His thoughts drifted, a touch dazed, to everything he'd seen in the future.
"Even the Lord of Mysteries probably doesn't wield such power…" He mused, assessing silently. Then, a sudden thought made him chuckle. "Conscientious boss… Hah!"
…
Alaric didn't bother troubling the suspected mutant Amon Avatar. There was no need.
Even setting aside Alaric's precautions and the True Creator's fist, Amon's nature... where spotting one Avatar meant countless others were likely nearby... made targeting a single, visible Avatar pointless.
Besides, Alaric trusted Amon's intelligence. A smart being wouldn't cross his bottom line.
So, Alaric bid the Amon Avatar a brisk farewell, sent Medici back to work, and returned to the pocket dimension for a nap.
After Alaric and Medici left, the abandoned Amon Avatar breathed a sigh of relief.
"That was close. Thought I was done for." The Avatar muttered, patting his chest. He tucked away the "Lucifer Stories" booklet, then leisurely removed his monocle, wiping it thoughtfully. "I didn't sense any fighting. Bethel must've sealed the space… Something secret that others can't know?"
"…Needing a War Angel to act, given Backlund's current state... Augustus?" A thoughtful glint passed through the Avatar's eyes. He smirked, recalling recent intel. "If William had fallen, even with a sealed space, Augustus or the three churches would've reacted by now. So, just a fight…"
"The Aurora Order's been making moves, cozying up to the Loen royal family. Showing off strength? Interesting. With Father's style, genuine cooperation with Augustus is unlikely, so…"
"A scam?" The Avatar shook his head, mockingly drawing a cross over his chest. "Hope Augustus is alright."
Then he touched the lumps on his head, wincing. "Ugh, what a senseless disaster."
If he'd actually been up to something, he'd accept the beating. But he hadn't planned anything lately!
The main body sent him to Backlund just to monitor Lil' Amon's growth and keep tabs on the local situation.
"Speaking of Lil' Amon…" The Avatar's expression turned odd as he murmured, "With their parenting methods, can they really cultivate humanity?"
He had his doubts.
***
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