Ether and essence wield boundless capabilities, yet even those who transcend the ordinary cannot truly bridge the chasm between life and death.
Should the four divine beings remain unscathed by the erosion of worldly information, their lifespans might stretch into the thousands of years. However, without absorbing the vast torrents of information and harnessing power through an understanding of the world's essence, their existence might not be so prolonged.
The inevitability of the end resists defiance; it may be postponed, but its arrival is certain.
The imperial capital boasts nurous public ceteries, and in the empire's most flourishing city, affording the deceased a final dignity is always achievable. Yet, those who rest in these chaotic, often dilapidated and moss-covered graveyards should not include an alchemist of forr renown within the capital.
The cetery's pathways, long neglected, turn to mud with a single storm, burying beneath such squalor a visionary… who sought to change the world and, to so extent, succeeded.
Helen placed her hand upon the square edges of a tombstone, which, unlike many others marred by damage and dirt, remained immaculately clean, an anomaly in such a graveyard.
Ansel observed Helen, this woman whose resolve is so profound she could even slay her past self, silently accompanying her here without utterance.
What Helen now perceived in Eileen, Ansel surmised, viewing this visit as her attempt at a final closure.
From the Tower of Babel, through Ravenna, to Eileen.
After severing all ties that needed cutting, she would be simply Helen, no longer anyone else.
Helen silently placed her hand on the tombstone, while Ansel tenderly stroke the top of her head.
His initial approach to ta Ravenna was intricately linked to the genius lady's twisted upbringing.
According to Ansel's original plan, revealing the truth of Ravenna's life at the right mont would leave her, betrayed and abandoned by all life's constructs, with nothing but herself.
The reality, however, diverged significantly, but Ravenna remained unhard throughout and always retained her identity.
Perhaps due to a reluctance to cause pain, or perhaps because of genuine affection, Ansel never found the right mont, or rather, recognized Ravenna's true nature before such a ti: beyond ideals, there is nothing else.
Even he cannot alter her reality—a fact in Ansel's eyes.
Thus, Ansel was left to create a "Ravenna" that aligned with his expectations.
"Father."
The perfect "Ravenna" that Ansel envisioned whispered, "Are divine species truly omnipotent?"
"It depends on how you define omnipotence."
"Would bringing the dead back to life count as omnipotence?"
At that mont, Ansel's expression froze.
His sea-blue eyes, after a brief pause, were enveloped by a deep and unstable blackness at the edges, giving him a particularly fierce and terrifying appearance.
Unaware, Helen murmured softly, "If possible, I would like to... ask my grandfather."
"I want to ask him if he is satisfied with who I am now."
Hearing this, the barely perceptible malice in Ansel's eyes slowly dissipated, and he gently caressed Helen, his voice tender, devoid of the brief terror he had just shown.
"Theoretically, divine species can indeed resurrect the recently deceased without much issue. However, for those who have been dead for a long ti, or whose death was... quite thorough, the so-called 'resurrection,' even for divine species, cos with many restrictions."
"And if he truly were resurrected, he might not be disappointed."
...What does Helen want to know? Is she trying to... test sothing?
The thoughts were complex, but for Ansel, it was just a fleeting mont. He softly told Helen, "If you eventually find a way to achieve that future, Eileen would be comforted, no matter what."
"...Yes," Helen murmured, lowering her head, "Grandfather was that kind of person."
The petite sorceress shifted slightly, burying her head in Ansel's chest.
"Father, if I were to be saddened by this, would you despise ?"
Ansel paused briefly, then chuckled, "Why would I? Because you still cling to the past? No... of course not, that is a asure of your self, a proof of your existence."
If Helen could sever her deepest emotional ties to her grandfather without any lingering feelings... her condition would be not far from Eula's madness, perhaps even worse. After all, Eula's madness was influenced by his abilities, but if Helen truly fell into such a state, it would be entirely from her own heart.
Ansel did not need such a person, one who was broken, no longer of any value, a pitiable being.
The youthful Hydral wrapped his arms around his daughter's waist, tenderly patting her shoulder:
"After all, he is the most significant person in your life."
"Father... do you believe grandfather's actions were justified?"
From within Ansel's embrace, Helen's soft voice erged.
"He sacrificed no one but , but my dad... Why must it be his own kin?"
"..."
After a brief silence, a sigh emanated from above Helen's head.
"He couldn't find anyone in his eyes who possessed enough potential, thus he could only pin his hopes on descendants who shared his bloodline to possess a more formidable talent."
"Perhaps, he didn't solely wish to sacrifice his kin; it was rely that he couldn't find... a more suitable candidate."
"And I am that suitable person?"
"And Helen is that suitable person."
This sigh conveyed to Helen a more harrowing yet entirely plausible reality.
—That is, throughout the decades of Eileen's pursuit of his wild aspirations, he never truly favored anyone to inherit his entirety, until the ergence of Ravenna.
Yet, oddly, upon hearing these words, Helen didn't seem... overly distressed.
She whispered in Ansel's embrace, "If that's the case... then, it's much better."
"Why?"
"Because grandfather rely sought soone worthy of utilization."
Helen lifted her head, gazing into Ansel's eyes, those dim purple pupils conveying sparse yet profoundly solid emotions:
"Not to... deliberately exploit kin."
Deliberately exploiting kin.
Aside from those pitiable souls raised in twisted families, perhaps only the most ruthless individuals could commit such acts.
And if such individuals weren't sufficiently ruthless, it's hard to imagine... what kind of imnse suffering could compel them to undertake such actions.
Yet, faced with Helen's words, Ansel didn't imdiately express any opinion. He just gazed at his fingertips, and after a long while, he suddenly laughed.
"Yes, indeed, that is a matter worthy of relief."
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