Chapter 174
Fourth, the flood of emotion unleashed by that silent cry was so powerful that it influenced the reality around them.
The divine mist surrounding the pavilion quivered faintly, like the surface of water disturbed by an object falling from a great height.
The golden grasses under Aldraya's feet paused briefly, losing their rhythmic glow.
The imitation heavenly light emanating from the illusion's ceiling dimmed by several degrees, as if mourning or unable to bear witnessing such an intimate destruction.
And in the cruelest irony, Aldraya had no intention whatsoever of wiping away her tears.
She did not raise her face to beg for mercy, nor did she turn away to hide her shame.
What she did was simply repeat a small ritual of her unrest.
Clenching one hand tightly, releasing it slowly as if drained of strength, then clenching it again—in a silent cycle reflecting thoughts swirling in circles without an exit.
The tears were allowed to flow, becoming silent witnesses to a soul that finally, truly, and literally started to dissolve.
'This is far more fragile than anything I've ever watched on screen.
And honestly, I had no idea the situation could become this sad and this painful for Aldraya.
All this time I only saw her as a powerful entity with millions of reincarnation cycles, not as someone who could be shattered like this.'
Foooh!
'I hope she rises again, does not dissolve in even the faintest of wounds.
I want her still to have something to hold on to, even if only a spark of hope that may seem weak to her.
Because without that, I fear her soul will be destroyed beyond trace.'
Fufu — fufu!
'At least, I hope she still remembers a bit of our conversation.
About the meaning of freedom, about her true identity beyond all the rigid rules she built for herself.
About the right to live according to her own choices, not because of blind orders or obligations.
I hope that message reaches her—even if only a little—amidst all this collapse.'
Deep in his heart, hidden behind the thicket that concealed him, Theo Vkytor froze into a silent shadow.
Every muscle in his body locked, every breath drawn and released quietly, a camouflage discipline ingrained in his very blood.
He was not here for recreation.
His stalking mission—originally simple, to follow Aldraya whom he thought would be apologizing—had transformed into bearing witness to the most personal soul-slaughter.
He was an uninvited spectator on the stage of this cosmic tragedy, and even the faintest sound could spell disaster.
Yet behind that sharp vigilance, something else began to stir.
A strange and slightly unsettling sense of pity.
That feeling crept slowly, watching the mighty Aldraya being torn apart in silence, her tears falling in emptiness.
Theo honestly realized a chasm of understanding.
All this time, he had viewed Aldraya—and all of this drama — through the lens of a Flo Viva Mythology player.
He saw attack patterns, boss weaknesses, story arcs to complete, and rewards to earn.
He was a player watching characters in a cutscene, even though that cutscene was painfully vivid.
Now, as a direct witness to the trembling mist, the dimming light, and the tragic silent ruin, his perspective cracked.
This was no longer about game mechanics or finishing a quest.
This was real.
Aldraya's suffering was not a backstory to enrich lore.
It was real suffering—sorrowful and deep—from a being who lost all reason for existence.
For the first time, Theo looked not at "The Ghastly One," but at "Aldraya" the wounded.
And inside the quiet of his soul, beyond all strategy and surveillance mission, a small sincere hope emerged.
A silent prayer, without voice.
Theo hoped, with all his ignorance about how to comfort a fallen angel, that Aldraya would remain strong.
That she would not despair amidst the rubble of her own beliefs.
That hope was naive, perhaps useless, but it came from an honest place in his heart.
Then his memory drifted.
To a conversation in another room, between dust and different light.
A conversation he had with Aldraya about freedom.
His own words—or maybe his questions—about what it means to be free outside of dogma, outside of self-imposed rigid obligations.
Theo hoped, with a pressing intensity, that a fraction of that conversation stuck in Aldraya's mind while she was sinking.
Perhaps, just maybe, in the total void left after all the labels of "devotion" and "love" were forcibly stripped away, there would be space.
An empty space that was terrifying, but also a space to breathe for the first time.
A space that could, someday, be filled with something new.
Not for Quil-Hasa, not to atone for sins, not for a forced noble purpose.
But for herself.
A bitter, belated freedom — yet perhaps the only true forgiveness she could ever attain.
"I… I recently understood something. About freedom.
And that meaning… has re-opened how I view my loyalty to You."
Ssssh!
"Not just about obeying orders, not about locking myself within the dogma I built.
There is… something different that I now understand."
'Even before her sentence was complete, I immediately grasped what she intended to say.
In other words, her journey across life after life had not turned her into a mindless subordinate blindly obeying.
She was finally seeing that loyalty is not the most binding chain, nor a duty to submit in everything.
More surprisingly, she only realized the meaning of freedom because… of me.
Theo Vkytor.'
Theo's reverie was cut short by a subtle yet significant shift in the midst of that devastation.
Aldraya was still shedding tears—clear droplets continuing to fall like rain from a lifeless sky.
The process went on silently, without visible emotional tremors, not even with the owner's conscious awareness.
Aldraya's face remained expressionlessly blank, a wet stone mask.
Behind those glossy eyes, a deep confusion could be read — an unknowing of what was happening to her, as though her body and soul had separated and each suffered alone without knowing the other.
Then something shifted.
Although Theo wasn't sure whether the whisper of hope in his heart had pierced Aldraya's turmoil or it was just a cosmic coincidence, the Fallen Angel began to move.
Her heavily bowed head started to lift, very slowly, as if defying the gravity of all the world's despair.
The movement was full of effort — a struggle against an invisible burden.
Tears still staining both her cheeks and nose weren't wiped away, left to serve as visible badges of her suffering.
Then, from a throat that must have felt like sand, a voice emerged.
Not a sob, not a lament, but words reassembled again.
Her voice was flat, sounding like hiccups but without emotional vibration, like a machine trying to mimic the functions of a broken human.
Aldraya spoke, trying for the last time.
She said she had learned something new, something alien in the dictionary of her thousands-year life.
The meaning of freedom.
This new understanding, she claimed, had opened her perspective about loyalty to Quil-Hasa.
In Theo's heart, watching from behind his disguise, the implied meaning of those words became brilliantly clear.
To be continued…