Unbeknownst to him, dusk had already arrived.
The young Hydral sat in the garden, quietly gazing at the setting sun.
As ti slipped away, the scene he had rehearsed countless tis in his mind was about to unfold.
What actions to take, what expressions to show, what words to say... these had been repeated in Ansel's mind for years.
Yet, everything was disrupted by a presumptuous guy.
He stroked the gray-black bracelet on his wrist, which looked like an ordinary ornant, and after a long silence, he whispered:
"Grant the power to defeat the Empress... Is this the confidence of a hero?"
"Even Seraphina isn't as confident as you, Ravenna."
"You've said so much to yourself."
The young man raised his hand, holding the bracelet towards the sun. The dim red sunlight shone on the bracelet but failed to reflect any brilliance.
He murmured softly, "You are truly arro—"
"…Arrogant?"
Ansel's lips curled as he stared at the bracelet. "Not arrogance, but foolishness."
"Just like ."
From the words in the diary and the remaining footage, how could Ansel not see that Ravenna had no certainty of success?
Ravenna was rely doing what she believed she had to do, regardless of success. From the beginning, she never considered whether she would succeed.
She wanted Ansel to give up — even if it required the power to oppose the Empress, equivalent to the sixth stage, she acted without hesitation, unafraid of the consequences.
Just like himself, a small pawn under the gaze of fate, willing to destroy it at all costs.
The sa stubbornness, the sa... foolishness.
But the difference was, Ansel had no choice. The inevitable end and the unrelenting blood feud left him with no path but to defy fate.
Ravenna, however, was different. No one forced her to stop Ansel, and she owed him nothing. When the truth was reversed, it was Ansel who was indebted.
Even... with her wisdom, she might have already guessed her original fate—that being chosen by the future-knowing Ansel, she must have had boundless achievents in the future.
If Ravenna Ziegler chose to stand by, she might have a more brilliant future than now.
She clearly had more choices, yet she chose the most aningless path.
Ansel closed his eyes, the twilight casting a deep fatigue on his face, the dim light outlining silent loneliness.
Now, he was alone.
He found an excuse to send Seraphina back to the Red Frost Territory, not wanting the girl to witness his cruel and pathological actions, not wanting her to waver his resolve, not wanting her to beco his hindrance.
Ansel knew very well that if it were Seraphina, if she knew what he intended to do, she would stop at nothing to prevent him, even if it ant risking her life again.
But having sent away the one person who could most sway him, there was still another psychopath who had prepared for this mont for three years... no, four years.
Yet he could not hysterically roar at the absent Ravenna, accusing her of being aloof and unable to understand his pain, accusing her of being self-righteous and incapable of comprehending his despair. Because she clearly... understood everything.
It was precisely because she understood, because she could empathize with his pain and despair, that she made that utterly foolish decision.
So after a brief mont of shock and loss of control, Ansel no longer showed any signs of distress, only... numbness.
When the pain that seed to pierce his heart and gnaw at his soul beca the norm, what remained was naturally numbness.
The beautiful childhood, the once-held beliefs, the beloved parents, and... the friends who had never truly betrayed him.
How much more must he sacrifice to stand before fate and confront it?
How much does he have left… that can be sacrificed?
Ti ticked away, and the mont of reckoning drew near, while Ansel sat desolately in the garden ticulously tended by his mother, Annelisa, a woman who always wanted to present the best to her child and husband.
Ansel watched the sun gradually set, even the twilight seed cold.
At this mont, a mont Ansel wished to be undisturbed, a maid cautiously approached him and softly said, "Young lord, there is a visitor."
"... A visitor?" Ansel's voice was sowhat hoarse. "Who?"
"He... he claims to be Miss Ziegler's father."
"..."
Ansel's lips twitched.
Experience tales with empire
Fate... fate, you truly do not miss any opportunity.
Even a pawn like Leiden, you are unwilling to let go, wanting to use him to the fullest?
What do you want him to do? Use his concern for Ravenna to further break my will? Use the presence of a father to make even more hesitant?
Thinking this, Ansel raised his hand, but it halted mid-air.
"...Let him in."
The malice and scheming of fate... it doesn't matter.
He must do sothing for his friend.
Soon, Leiden Ziegler, the inept son of Eileen Ziegler, and the father Ravenna Ziegler once despised, stood nervously behind Ansel.
"Lord... Ansel, I apologize for the intrusion."
"Hmm."
Ansel did not look at him, rely holding his wine glass towards the dwindling sunset, as if to capture the twilight within the drink.
Leiden, after bowing his head for several seconds, nervously and fearfully raised his head, as if mustering all his courage, and asked:
"May I, may I trouble you to tell about Ravenna's... current situation?"
Ansel turned his head to glance at him. The humble man imdiately wanted to lower his head, but halfway down, he forced himself to look up and et Ansel's gaze, his eyes full of pleading.
"Please... forgive my impertinence, but I want to know... I want to know what has happened to her."
"Why do you suddenly ask this?" Ansel swirled the wine nonchalantly. "Worry is never baseless. In your eyes, is her situation dire?"
"Because soone told that Ravenna seems... seems to be planning to defect from the Tower of Babel."
Ansel's hand paused slightly in its motion of swirling the wine. He raised an eyebrow: "Such words should not be spoken lightly. Ravenna is willing to sacrifice everything for the Tower of Babel. Are you sure this information is reliable?"
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