Grace stood up and pulled a red-checked napkin from her pocket. As she unfolded it, the napkin grew larger and larger until it became a tablecloth for the coffee table. She called on Emma and Ethan for help; the two of them moved the objects off the coffee table and set them aside. Once the checked tablecloth was in place, they put the objects back, this time alongside a total of nine new cups.
Matthews watched the process very closely, expecting something incredible, even mystical, yet nothing of the sort happened. Still, he noticed that nobody was heating water or brewing coffee—rather strange for people who were so insistent on having their drinks.
However, he quickly realized they were about to pull off one of their parlor tricks to make tea and coffee appear. Matthews looked down at his empty cup without a word. Once the preparations were finished, Grace snapped her fingers, and at that gesture, the cups gradually filled with their beverages.
Matthews watched his cup fill with coffee. They had all watched Grace the moment she snapped her fingers, but he saw nothing suspicious or coherent. The cups were filling in an unnatural way; he hesitated between a Spiritual Treasure and a Supreme Principle, but was certain of neither, as both were possible. A perplexed expression lingered on his face.
When the drinks had all been served, Grace picked up her coffee, touched her lips to the rim of the cup, and slid it toward her mouth. She took a sip before setting it back down on the table. As she did, she noticed Matthews's complicated expression and let out a small giggle.
— My dear Matthews, do not tell me you are looking at my drink with such complexity; I shall end up flattering myself, seeing such an enigmatic gaze directed at a simple cup of coffee right in front of you.
— I am simply perplexed by all of this, not to the point of praising you for a simple cup of coffee... I am just still a bit in shock that all of this is possible; it is unimaginable. Not long ago, I knew physical laws as theories impossible to break... but now everything is new to me, which is a bit unsettling, to be completely honest with you.
— It is normal to feel a bit lost. At first, I saw you somewhat like one of those zealots who think they have seen it all, but hearing you now, you seem much more normal—even far more human than I am today... behind that impassive face that seems to have witnessed everything hides an ordinary man. It reassures me to see that you are still quite innocent.
Matthews looked at her without a word; he picked up his cup and began to drink his coffee. All the others were speaking in low tones, discussing among themselves in whispers. Matthews could not quite make out what they were saying, but he quickly realized the conversation revolved around him.
— When are you going to tell me about this New World? Matthews asked, looking at them. I am rather curious to know this so-called truth about this mystical world. And when will I learn the truth about this realm?
— You can certainly wait a few more minutes, Grace said. At least give us time to finish our snack. You are far too impatient, my dear.
— Curiosity is important, certainly, but it can also be very dangerous, Xavier replied, fixing his gaze on Matthews. Do not rush things; every question you ask will have an answer in due time.
— He is right to ask, information is paramount, especially in a place like this, William said, looking at Xavier. If I am not mistaken, when we first arrived here, in one of those many establishments where we started out, we were all more or less like Matthews; we always wanted answers to our questions, even if they exceeded our comprehension—we always want to get to the bottom of the story.
— Now you are siding with him, and on top of that, you are challenging the leader's answer, Emma said, sipping her tea. Orders are orders; he will get an answer when the time comes, just as we had ours.
— You talk a bit too much, Emma, William replied. I did not challenge anything at all; I simply said he is asking the same questions we did back then, when we arrived here as novices. The only thing I pointed out was that we should be a little more lenient with him.
The two exchanged a look with a hint of irritation in their eyes before turning away. Matthews had almost forgotten that these people had once been just like him, mere beginners; even this woman, Grace, had been like him, talking in the hope of getting a few answers.
The tea break lasted a few minutes; everyone remained more or less focused on their drinks. They all glanced at each other out of the corner of their eyes, their heads full of questions. Others were deep in thought, yet none of them, during this entire break, asked a question or voiced an idea—keeping everything to themselves. They stared at one another, each wanting to speak, to say what they thought, understanding and contradicting one another without once opening their mouths. This man, the famous Doctor Matthews, unlike the others who were overthinking, sat quietly in his seat, sipping his coffee and daydreaming as he stared into it.
"Why must I still wait for these damn explanations? I've just been told, in a totally absurd way, that I have magical powers I didn't even know existed, and I still have to wait until the end of this ridiculous snack break to get any sort of valid answers. Seeing them, I know they're going to explain it all to me the exact same way they explained the other two powers—completely out of order, and with pieces of the explanation missing to boot.
Why am I so interested in these stories that don't concern me? Why... why does it interest me so much? Is my life really that dreary that I'm looking for a semblance of existence in this half-opened hell?
A host of questions have haunted me all my life. Do I really exist? Does God exist? Does my life have any true meaning? Everyone, sooner or later, asks themselves these existential questions; it's inevitable—so why do I have to ask them right now? Am I already predestined to die?
For now, my life is nothing but an illusion... I wander through cities like a stranger to everything, a stranger to this city as much as a stranger to myself. I talk and chat with my own daydreams; the world around me becomes nothing more than a simple illusion, a joke just waiting to be told, but one that everyone refuses to hear. Everything blends together inside me: reality and illusion, reverie and personhood... we try to escape through other dreams, but reality is only waiting for us back home.
My life has always been nothing but solitude; I try to ignore reality, justifying myself at every moment of my existence—perhaps that is the origin of my wandering on this earth. I want nothing more than to go home. To believe one is escaping when one is merely meeting oneself. The longest road, much like the shortest, is the one that leads home," Matthews thought, finishing his coffee, his gaze lost in the final wisps of steam rising from the cup.
But another thought crossed his mind; this one was much darker than the previous, which had been mere introspection about his own life. He liked wandering through his mind, but he knew—he had noticed those glances cast his way, those discreet looks filled with doubt and suspicion toward him.
"Am I the future recruit, or the threat? Looking at them, I am still a threat to them; even if they speak to me politely, tension lingers between us, a chasm that separates us. She definitely doesn't want to trust me, all because of that old fox. What is she doubting, to the point of bringing it up to me? That I will betray her by revealing that she is plotting something big? I'm almost sure she trusts no one except herself.
I almost feel like I could die here if I start making the wrong choices; if that's destiny, so be it—yet what does it all boil down to? Coming to see me like saviors—do they want to play the martyrs that badly? Or do they have a savior complex? Shameless hypocrisy, I'd say instead... But who am I to judge, I who have chased after my daydreams my whole life, thinking only of myself and my ideals.
Still, the difference is that I know it; I have accepted this part of myself, whether good or bad, I have accepted it. Them, I'm not so sure; they make selfish choices for everyone, they leave no choice for anyone anymore, they steal it from others—yet they say it's for a greater cause. But is that cause necessarily a good one? Surely for them, but for the rest of us, all of this is debatable.
Damn... why am I still mixed up in this, when with or without me, everything will happen anyway. It's inevitable. Do I have the right to judge them? Whether their intentions are good or bad, none of this concerns me; I am merely a spectator in this story," he thought as he watched them; he set his cup down and observed them in turn.
When they had finished their snacks, everyone set their cups down on the coffee table. Grace let out a cheerful sigh at the end of the break.
— That feels so good. This break has been most profitable, don't you think, my dear guest? Resting before facing the storm is one of the most effective tactics: calming down, letting your brain rest for a few minutes to digest the old information, and then switching it back on to swallow new ones—much heavier and more complex than the previous ones.
— Mostly, I'm just eager to get to the bottom of this story; I feel like a four-year-old being denied his candy, as if ill-intentioned adults are depriving me of this reward for I don't know what reason, Matthews replied, looking at Grace. You were the one who brought this up to me in the first place. And on top of that, you're leaving me hanging like an idiot on the deck, telling me to wait longer because madam is thirsty—I'm honestly going to end up throwing myself overboard if you keep making me wait.
— Always speaking in cheerful metaphors, my dear Matthews. You're almost going to make me sad to leave you here with the other fox, Grace said, lighting a new cigarette. You will soon have the answer to your questions; so why are you in such a rush to force us to tell you everything right away? Let's enjoy this moment together; afterwards, we might not even have time to see each other, nor even to chat, so make the most of it.
Matthews looked at her without a word. Grace, seeing his face devoid of any notable emotion in the face of their discussion, realized her fine words had had no effect; she shook her head at his impatience for the continuation of their conversation. She motioned to two people who had remained in the background away from the others.
The first was a woman named Charlotte Bennett, about forty years old, with rather light black hair and fairly clear emerald-green eyes; she had a few wrinkles but remained a very captivating woman. She wore a black shirt, just like her trousers, a red tie with black stripes matching her belt, and, like everyone else, a white coat.
The second and last of this group was named Alexander MacLeod, a man in his thirties with dark black hair, a calm demeanor, and hazel eyes. His features were simple; he was tall, with clothes similar to those of the others.
She looked at them for a few moments, then pointed at them; the two positioned themselves where everyone present could hear them without trouble. Matthews observed them, then glanced at Grace out of the corner of his eye. Grace spoke while pointing at them.
— They are the ones, Matthews, who will tell and explain to you the history of the other world; therefore, I expect your full attention, and above all, if you have any questions about this world, do not hesitate to ask them. I hope you are ready to listen to this contextualization, because there may not be time for a second listening afterwards. Charlotte and Alexander will explain this history to you in two parts; I hope you understand everything on the first try.
— I'll do my best, but don't expect me to understand everything right off the bat—especially if it's anything like the presentation of powers you gave me earlier, Matthews said, looking at Grace and the two presenters. And above all, make sure certain terms are simplified for my understanding, because anything abstract can be quite difficult to grasp, especially for someone who has never visualized it.
Grace gave a small smile to Matthews, who was also looking at her with his own smug little grin; she very quickly understood the nature of that little jab he had just delivered—more teasing than anything else, but it slightly annoyed her, a bit like a challenge, as if he were putting her to the test. She first glanced sideways at Charlotte, then at Alexander; they quickly understood the situation. Charlotte stepped forward, unlike Alexander, who settled back comfortably on the couch.
She still had her little teacup with her; empty, it immediately refilled itself, a light steam already rising from it. She looked at Matthews seriously, even though she wore a big smile—her eyes narrowed as she stared at him. In a calm and steady voice, she began her tale:
— The world we call the New World is an irony, a simplification of a language that is still entirely unknown to us. The first men who discovered it decided to call it Canaan, the Vale of Eternity, the Garden of Eden, Sukhavati... all sorts of names were invented for these new places, ranging from the simplest to the most outlandish. According to the information we have, these places were created over ten million years ago. You are surely wondering when, or at least in what year, we managed to discover this place, aren't you, Matthews? It dates back exactly a hundred years, to 1926. That is quite recent for us, at least on our life scale. The problem, or at least the drawback of this place, is that we did not arrive here until barely a million years ago. That may seem a bit strange to you, but the first men from here, when they crossed this door, arrived a million years in the past. Today, if you cross it, you will find yourself in the present era, but in the other world, if you prefer—you must have realized it, but one year over there represents ten thousand years in their world. The men from over there finally found a solution to solve the problem of time; it took them a total amount of time and years of research, unfair deaths, and inhumane experiments on their own species. They met God, or at least, according to certain texts, they crossed paths with a superior being. What is quite peculiar is that you will be able to encounter in this world, in certain specific places, huge spheres that contain billions of living beings all by themselves—mini-universes, that is what they are; sometimes, people emerge from them to live in this New World in their turn.
Charlotte stopped talking and made way for Alexander; Matthews noticed that Charlotte dealt with the world in general, while Alexander was more specific about creatures and the rest.
— Another major problem with this New World is that it is not uninhabited; it was populated by all kinds of life—human, animal, insect, or various creatures. Upon our arrival in this false paradise, humans rather quickly realized that they were merely ants in a vast world that seemed indifferent to their existence; they understood too late that this place was more of a hell than a paradise. The world over there is divided into three: hell, purgatory, and paradise—it is in a figurative sense, as you can well imagine, but the facts are there. Charlotte will explain that to you afterward, but these three places are of crucial importance in this world. In paradise are beings like us; even though they are very different from us, they resemble us in every way—hair, height, skin color—but they knew something we were ignorant of, a power whose existence we didn't even know: they had their Spiritual Treasure, even if that is not what they called it; there were all kinds of them, they called them Reichu. We were incapable of using them, left with nothing, neither defenses nor real characteristics; in their ignorance, they took us for a new unknown race and called us "The Walkers," because we moved all the time—they took us for wandering vagabonds. Their world resembled ours in every way, but with a different aspect: the law of the strongest, established in a way as a system to crush the weak. But this vision was only true for some of us present in this room. They inhabit large cities designated by clan or sect names; they follow paths: that of justice or righteousness, or else that of demons, cruelty, and solitude. There is a third one, the one where we were initially placed: the neutral path.
You must also suspect as much, but the people over there have their own power, different in every way from ours, but their origin remains the same: the Spiritual Treasure. Everything descends from this power; an enormous number of them appeared on these lands and then vanished. Ours was added to the branch because that being willed it.
As for the two floors below: the humans who live down there only go as far as the middle, purgatory—at least those who resemble us to some degree, beast-men or plant-men, creatures of all kinds, good and bad, dangerous and peaceful. These two places in the world defy logic. In our sickly naïveté, we thought that behind all these beautiful landscapes, or behind all these gigantic structures, the devil was hiding—creatures as formidable as they were terrifying, man-eaters. These creatures killed everything that was alive; they thought like us, understood us just like us, and killed us to climb toward immortality.
He stopped talking; Charlotte was about to take over when Matthews cut her off flatly before she could speak. He had so many questions that he couldn't wait a single second longer without getting the slightest answer.
— Wait! Wait! Let me ask you a few questions, because I'm a bit lost. First, you, Alexander, tell me more about their powers—you tell me there are all kinds of them, so tell me. And besides, you're talking about things that kill without warning, what are those things? Just like the other species, the half-humans or animals that live down there, and those terrifying creatures, what is their power, or their goal of immortality? And what are these infrastructures or places you're telling me about that are gigantic or dantesque? And you, Charlotte, who mentioned humans who received powers, who is this God?
They looked at him with a small smile at the corners of their lips; Grace was looking at him with that same smile too. He didn't understand why everyone was looking at him like that; he turned his head to see if the others were making the same face—they all were, that same smile he couldn't understand. He began to get annoyed.
— Why are you looking at me like I'm an idiot? And why are you all smiling like fools? I asked you questions, so I expect answers! You're the ones who asked me to ask them before it was too late, so answer my request!
— We're not making fun of you, Matthews; we're simply noticing that you're asking questions we hadn't necessarily planned to elaborate on, Alexander said, looking at him. But I notice in turn that without these answers, you'll remain in the fog you're already in.
He took a breath and continued his story, but this time a bit more in-depth.
— You're right about one point: this society is not fair, but it is advantageous for certain people; even its inhabitants know it is unfair to others. Matthews, you asked me about their powers—didn't you? Their powers are mystical; they forge pacts with gods or entities; they have powers that are roughly similar to ours without actually being them. The creatures are of unknown origin; we don't really know how they appear or how they are created, but they are there. They use their own power, named [?§!§%+=]—ah yes, you can't hear it, that's normal; anyway, little is known about this technique, but one thing is certain: they can use their Spiritual Treasure without restriction. These are called Cursed Treasures, which are already better known than their techniques; they resemble the other two powers but differ on quite a few points, and their paths differ from those of Spiritual Treasures or Reichu. That is all we know, which is already interesting, isn't it? As for the buildings and the rest, you'll have to wait for Charlotte's explanations; I will finish my answer regarding their goal: immortality. To tell you the truth, all these places I just told you about constitute only the first trial out of three. You appear in a given era, and if you're lucky, a door will open; only the strongest can enter for the next phase, under certain conditions. Those who manage to complete the three trials become gods, quite simply.
One more thing: everything I've just told you surely seems hollow to you, or you feel like you're missing a huge amount of things or explanations, but that's normal—the explanations are still too difficult for you to grasp. You will hear without truly understanding, like with the names of those monsters' powers—a sort of scrambling that prevents you from hearing the information. Anyway, when you cross paths with someone who has a new power, you'll figure out how it works pretty quickly.
Matthews stayed right where he was, motionless, his mind racing a mile a minute. He had understood certain things, but others still escaped him—or at least Alexander wasn't telling him the whole truth, and he knew it. But already, with the scant information he had received, his brain was overheating: a society, even more new powers—he no longer knew what to think.
But Charlotte resumed speaking; she didn't give Matthews time to catch his breath and plunged him back into the unknown:
— I admit it, Matthews, I didn't tell you the whole truth, and I blame myself a bit for it. As Alexander pointed out, on these subjects, we cannot afford to send all these people inside at once; that's why other establishments exist—we space out each entry by a certain amount of time, so that everyone has a chance to make it down and potentially succeed... As for the unknown being, he created the first two powers for us, the ones only we were supposed to receive; but he understood us, gave us those powers and the ability to use the Spiritual Treasure—yet he gave them to everyone, and also in a different form than ours.
The world that was created resembles a cube, with an infinite number of faces—what Alexander says with his Dante metaphor (hell, purgatory, and paradise) is a bit grotesque, or at least distorted; he only knows that work, so he cites it all the time. This refers to spaces within this cube: the top is the side of justice, where humans and their society are found—we ourselves have created our own society up there, of course, and that is where you will go after your crossing. The middle of the cube represents neutrality, where myself and the other scientists are located; it is here that you can find everything, good and bad alike, and the final side, the bottom, belongs to the monsters, to evil, to those who have chosen the demonic path. Between the top and the middle, or between the middle and the bottom, lie vast and gigantic territories, almost infinite, where clans form, wars break out, priceless treasures appear, or powers are left behind along with inheritances. Traveling across all of this is impossible, but there are paths, or places, where creatures live, where people like you or me pass by; these pathways are like a dream, they exist because they are like bugs in a system—they cannot truly be described, they are like mini-worlds inside another world, dantesque structures almost unimaginable to man, where everything is gigantic. But all of this serves only one purpose: the next step.
To tell you the truth as well, we humans live on the face or in the middle of the cube, at the exact same level as the other humans. But it's a bit different for Dupont and his companions: they live above the clouds, and only the strongest beings can ascend there; the same thing has been observed for the bottom face. The paths of justice or the demonic path are not necessarily what people say—they simply have an opposing vision of the world. As for us, we have a more specific, or thankless, role: our role is to eliminate or capture dangerous or harmful creatures for the top face, to experiment on them in order to increase our powers and manage to prolong our lives so we can survive. Life down there is eventful; you can become anything or end up as nothing, but one thing remains firmly in sight: the second stage.
She stopped on that sentence; Alexander did not speak up again, so Matthews took the opportunity to ask a few questions.
— What is this next step? Matthews said, looking at her. I understand that much now, even though I still have questions—what is the point of all this, if it's only to move on to a next step? The creator of all this is truly bizarre; if he created everything, surely it's not just for a game?
— All of this is indeed nothing more than a game, at least that is what I think, Grace said, staring into empty space. A stupid game, which only a bored, stupid god could set up to amuse himself. An almost infinite world where everything can exist—murder, genocide, rape, and all kinds of filth—simply for a game of pseudo-immortality. Do you realize, Matthews, all of that for a place in paradise, beside this God?
— Then it's enough to simply hand back the ticket to paradise. If the world is unjust, cruel, worse than ours, what is the point of going? Especially since over there, our destiny is controlled by superior beings—because I've just realized one thing: there are already people who have managed to pierce the trials and return, so they do exist, just like certain humans, Matthews said, looking at Grace and the others. To go there, if everything is worse, you tell me the other side is hell—so then why are you going?
— We cannot turn back; it's like Eve eating the forbidden apple, we too must continue, for a fairer world—perhaps, yes, this world is worse than unjust, so it must simply be changed, to bring down the strong to gain power, Grace said. I have lost too much to turn back now, Matthews; I have seen many things, fought warriors and ruthless monsters alike. It would be enough to throw the door wide open to let everyone through and change the destiny of these billions and billions of people trapped in this sad world.
He looked at them with a fresh perspective; he quickly noticed that their eyes, all of them, were hollowed out by fatigue and something else, something he didn't yet know. Their eyes had turned livid; Matthews wondered what on earth they could have seen to have such a look, and thought of a few possibilities: the loss of a friend or a loved one, murder, and many others—the list could be long, far too long for him to dwell on right now. He leaned back in his armchair and looked at Grace again:
— Your goal in coming back up here is to recruit new people, if I'm not mistaken? What about me? Am I your ally, or your future enemy? Or am I perhaps merely the one your choices will eventually designate as such?
Grace looked at him with a more than serious expression; she straightened up on her pouf, stubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray with a brutal gesture, and with a slight nod of her head, everyone quickly stood up, lined up in front of their seats. She watched them for a few seconds, and then, at a sign Matthews couldn't make out, they left the bubble and positioned themselves a few steps away from it, directly opposite the door through which Dupont and the others had entered. Only Matthews and Grace remained inside the bubble, face to face.
— You are neither one nor the other; you are still right in the middle of all this. You shouldn't even know that camps exist. In reality, there are two here, but over there there are many more than two, nobles and lesser folk alike. But one day, you will have to choose, because a war will break out—I might not sense it right away, but one day it will happen, and if you place yourself in the wrong spot...
— You'll kill me, is that it, Grace? I thought you were much stronger than that to achieve your ends; I who believed you were different from Dupont and the others, the end does not justify your actions...
— You don't know me, Matthews! You know nothing of the actions I had to perform to survive! Yes, violence will breed violence, perhaps even after this we will be caught in a cycle of infinite violence, but no matter the final outcome—it will be up to the winner to decide the course of events, nothing more.
— It's true, I'm new here and I have a position quite different from yours, you who must have seen so many things. Today, with all the information I've just absorbed—which is the right word for everything you've made me understand—I realize you're no longer young, and I don't even know how old you actually are, perhaps a thousand years or even more, yet today I see you in the guise of a woman in her fifties. You must have lost a good many friends, people dear to you—they were human, and human in this world as in the other. You must have lost many things, you must have been manipulated by others, by external gods or still others, I don't quite know—but nothing will ever justify acts that lead to bloodshed.
— To create a utopia, one must know how to make choices far greater than small lost battles, Matthews. God is a lie here, and I know you realize that better than anyone else, because you see, I did look into your background: an intelligent young man, destined for great things. You were a high school student with a more than exemplary record, which allowed you to move on to a scientific school that turned you into an atheist. Then you left your family—or rather, you were driven out because of your atheism. You went elsewhere to continue your studies, then you just found a job, and here you are. Sometimes you have to weed out the bad grass before it spreads too much; if it's for the future of my vision, then so be it.
— Then there will be no difference left between you and Dupont. I don't know him yet, but hearing you speak, I sense that you despise him deeply. Yet what are the differences between you and him? Your ideas? Your values? All of that is subjective; you just like me or him, each of us has our own vision of things. Nothing tells me you aren't the villain in this story.
— You're playing with words, my dear Matthews. I am by no means the villain of this story; he is the villain. But can we really speak of a story? We are by no means in a book or a work of fiction; you can take it however you like, but it is a fact, a reality to be accepted.
— It will all depend on which side I stand with in the end.
— Perhaps...
She looked at him with a cold, distant gaze, wearing a stern expression; conversely, Matthews looked back at her with a very distant gaze as well, but with a smile on his lips, almost mocking. The two sized each other up with the intention of winning this silent joust.
She pointed a finger at a man in the distance; Matthews looked closely at him, his eyes resting on a man who seemed so solitary. This young man must have been approaching thirty; he was rather tall without truly being so, with silky medium-brown hair. His eyes looked tired behind slightly drooping glasses, his face was fine—neither handsome nor ugly. He was wearing a white coat, a brown shirt, and black trousers.
— Do you see that man, Matthews, that young man drinking his champagne? He was just like you; he was young and ambitious, but far too naive and innocent. At first, he was in the middle, incapable of choosing a side, and one day he was sent down there, and no one came to help him; to this day, everyone treats him like a watchdog. Is that what you want to become?
— And why not! Who says he's miserable, that "dog"? At least he made a choice quite different from yours. That is what currently makes him much more dangerous than you. You guys just talk and threaten—he survives. Has no one ever explained the difference to you: a lone man is far more dangerous than a group of men, because a lone man is dangerous: he is already cornered, he has nothing left to lose, unlike you.
— You are deluding yourself; reality is quite different from the idea you have of this man. You are still far too young to realize the reality of things: there are ranks to respect, classes to follow. If you transgress them or fail to respect them, then you become the pack mule, everyone walks all over you, Dupont just like the others, and no one will come to help you in your situation. And if they do come, it's because they already have an ulterior motive.
They looked at each other without a word; their gazes crossed, complex, heavy with a thousand emotions—this lasted for a good minute. Grace glanced sideways at her group, who gave her a signal; she sighed and then shifted her gaze back to Matthews.
— Time is running out, he is coming back soon. I am warning you, Matthews: you are someone good, even generous, a bit naive to be sure, but like any young adult. You are intelligent, so I will tell you this once: do not let yourself be taken in by fine words. Dupont is evil, like many people here, so be wary of everyone.
— That goes for you too, Grace. Your ideas, I don't know them and I absolutely don't want to know them... but be realistic yourself too: you will condemn them along with you, you have already indirectly sent them to their deaths, for a simple idea, for a personal revolution. But is it really worth it?
— Yes... yes, you are quite right on that point. But one must make certain choices in life: live as a slave, or destroy all of this at the cost of a few lives. You cannot understand that yet, but I have faith in my quest, and do not worry about the dead—they joined my camp with full knowledge of the facts. Death will be on the other side, Matthews; I would say it is you who should worry about yours, rather than I about my camp.
She looked at him with a confident smile, hands clasped, as if to show her obsession with this quest she was already aiming for. Matthews looked at her with a face filled with doubt regarding this quest. He accepted it, but doubted what would follow.
End of this episode.
Thank you for reading.