Chapter 170
The tremor implied that Aldraya's various statements—from confessions of suffering to claims of loyalty as a remedy—felt scattered and failed to form any coherent cause and effect.
Every praise used to conclude each topic seemed like an attempt to divert attention from a fundamental illogic.
Then came the question that pierced straight into the heart of the greatest paradox in Aldraya's existence.
The vibration in Quil-Hasa's voice peeled back history with merciless precision.
If loyalty was the most potent cure—if it was the only thing that gave meaning and shaped all his emotions—then how could the moment of ultimate betrayal be explained?
When the decree to destroy the universe was proclaimed, and the hands of his twelve siblings had already annihilated sixty percent of creation, news arrived from Xavier XVII about the death of the Creator should the extermination be completed.
At that critical moment, Aldraya instead chose to incite his siblings to rebel.
That act, which led to his banishment from Heaven and Hell and the stripping of his identity—was it truly driven by the same loyalty he now proclaimed? Or was there something else hidden behind it all, something he had concealed even from himself?
Perhaps ambition, perhaps fear of loss, perhaps a misguided interpretation of divine will, or perhaps a misshapen love that led instead to rebellion.
The question hung in the air like the sword of Damocles.
It not only challenged the consistency of Aldraya's narrative, but retraced the deepest motivations behind the act that altered cosmic destiny.
Quil-Hasa seemed to say, "Explain this paradox. Prove that your loyalty is not simply beautiful words masking the deepest wound of your ego."
'Silence for the second time.'
The silence that fell once again felt different this time.
It was no longer the tension of anticipation, but a heavy stillness, filled with the echo of a counter-question that shook the foundations of Aldraya's existence.
The former angel fell still—not from confusion, but because he was struck by a truth he had perhaps avoided examining too deeply.
His eyes, which usually reflected the firmness of stone, seemed to turn inward, tracing the dark corridors of memory and the paradox he had carried since the moment of betrayal.
That deep and painful contemplation radiated clearly through the slight curve of his posture, as if bearing the weight of an unexpected question.
With a single intervention, Quil-Hasa had redirected the conversation from a plea for acknowledgment to an examination of the most fundamental integrity.
Behind the thick bushes still frozen in divine aura, Theo Vkytor's fingers moved swiftly and almost soundlessly.
A small yellow book, no bigger than his palm, lay open in his grasp.
A pen slid across the paper, already filled with secret markings, noting every dramatic detail that unfolded.
His hand wrote with the discipline of an analyst, recording not only the spoken words—or more precisely, the vibrations in consciousness—but also descriptions of the shifting atmosphere, Aldraya's collapsing body language, and the fluctuating cosmic pressure radiating from the avatar.
The consecrated green field itself seemed affected by this reflective silence.
The golden light emanating from the flora pulsed with a slower, sadder rhythm, as if harmonizing with Aldraya's internal state.
The shimmering warm mist drifted lazily, forming abstract patterns that twisted and dissolved.
The ten pillars of light surrounding the arena still stood tall, but their intensity no longer projected the sharpness of interrogation; instead, they emitted a wide, deep patience, waiting for the cosmic defendant to compose his answer.
Time stretched again, every second filled by the inner struggle of a fallen angel forced to confront the darkest contradiction within his own soul, under the undeniable gaze of the Source.
"I… I know my loyalty to You may seem confusing… and not enough to explain everything.
However… every step I take, every choice I live through, always bo… bo… born, present from the desire to serve You.
Therefore—"
'Whatever Aldraya answers Quil-Hasa with later will surely be filled with praises, compliments, and gratitude.
All his words will be positive.
There will be nothing negative, and even neutrality would be impossible to emerge from Aldraya's mouth right now.'
"Haaaah…."
Fuuuuuh!
"How foolish and naive you are, Highest Angel who first opened his petals.
It is truly regrettable that My own creation can be so stubborn and so bound to emotion.
And once again, that doubt emerges—whether your actions truly originate from yourself, or if they are merely shadows of My will that you follow."
The intention to respond crystallized in Aldraya's mind.
Words—though destined to stutter and falter under deep self-doubt—began arranging themselves into a new form of defense in his thoughts.
From his hiding place, Theo quickly noted this assumption into his yellow book, predicting that the coming answer would be another stream of praises, a polished devotion meant to wrap discomfort in glittering loyalty, entirely positive and avoiding even a hint of neutrality or negative admission.
But this miniature universe crafted by Aldraya decided once again to surprise everyone present.
Before a single syllable of that defense could be born, a voice—or more accurately, a phenomenon—occurred.
From the direction of the shifting figure seated upon the high throne, a breath was heard.
Not the breath of a living being, but a cosmic shift—long and deep.
It was the hiss of time rushing, the roar of dying stars, and the vibration of expanding emptiness.
That monumental exhalation flooded the entire field, pressing down the golden mist and even briefly disturbing the divine heartbeats within the surrounding flora.
The force of that breath was so real it cut Aldraya's intention physically.
His chest tightened, his tongue stiffened, and all the carefully arranged words in his mind scattered like dust swept by cosmic wind.
Eight seconds passed in a new silence, colored by the echo of that breath.
Eight seconds that felt like eight ages of darkness for the frozen Aldraya.
Then came Quil-Hasa's voice.
This time, its vibrations were no longer flat or sharply probing.
There was a new tone within it.
Disappointment.
A vast, deep disappointment that resonated loudly throughout the false reality.
It expressed regret, lamenting how foolish and naive His first creation—the primordial Highest Angel—had turned out to be.
That disappointment did not sound angry, but sorrowful, like a master craftsman witnessing that his most beautiful masterpiece carried a fundamental flaw beyond repair.
And within that reprimand lay an even more devastating question—a question Quil-Hasa directed at Himself.
Was this foolishness and naivety truly Aldraya's own, or was it an inevitable consequence of the Creator's act in making him?
Was there a flaw in the divine design that allowed for such a failure?
'Both his eyes appeared frozen and completely unmoving.'
Ssssh!
'And now I can clearly see that his eyes are glistening.'
Fiiiih!
'If this continues, I will witness a very rare occurrence—a historic moment when Aldraya sheds tears for the first time.'
That belittling gaze, the reprimand equating his wisdom with the limitations of the simplest human, struck Aldraya like a hammer forged from all the shame in the universe.
To be continued…