"What's your relationship with Tea… this Brian Copper?"
"He is my father."
"…"
Silence. The entire settlement seemed to grow even quieter than before.
Michael slowly closed his eyes.
"…I see."
Internally, he let out a long sigh. Of all people.
He had hoped the connection would be insignificant. Something he could ignore. Anything but this.
Unfortunately, reality rarely cared about what people hoped for. She just had to be Teacher Brian's daughter.
Michael rubbed the bridge of his nose. His thoughts, which had been perfectly settled only moments ago, became slightly chaotic.
It wasn't because she had once been human. That alone meant very little to him. If Aurora had been a religion-based realm and she had been its founding god, Michael would still have added her to his legion, if only for collection value.
Before hearing Brian's name, he had fully intended to make her part of his forces regardless of her identity. That decision would not have changed.
But this wasn't just anyone. This was Teacher Brian's daughter.
Michael remained expressionless, yet countless thoughts moved through his mind in rapid succession. It wasn't even respect alone that troubled him. Respect could be set aside when the benefits outweighed the sentiment. The true problem was Teacher Brian himself.
Michael couldn't deny it. Among all the people he had known, Brian was one of the few he genuinely admired, even if their relationship had never been particularly close.
Perhaps it was the way the man had carried himself, like someone who accepted the weight of being responsible for others. The very image Michael had for elders with supernatural powers, unlike a certain shameless bunch.
Or perhaps it was the impression he had left on Michael during the Woodstone City crisis, when Brian had stood as the city's protector at a time when Michael had still been too weak to make any real difference.
Michael quietly laughed at himself. How sentimental.
His expression slowly grew plicated as a different scenario took shape in his mind uninvited.
Suppose, years from now, someone discovered a being equivalent to what Lily was to him, after her destruction. And suppose that person, rather than reviving her or returning her, had instead refined her into materials, or erased her identity entirely to forge a stronger servant.
If that person later stood before Michael and offered the explanation that it had simply been the most efficient choice available, would he accept that?
No.
Not only would he refuse to accept it. That person's ending would be a miserable one.
Michael's eyes slowly lowered. Of course, Teacher Brian could never threaten him. The gap between them was too vast for that. And there was no reason Brian would ever learn the truth of what had bee of his daughter, since only Michael knew. But for some reason, that thought brought him no fort whatsoever.
Michael quietly sighed.
Perhaps this is why powerful supernaturals avoided forming too many interpersonal relationships.
The stronger one became, the longer one lived. The longer one lived, the more attachments accumulated.
Friends. Teachers. Disciples. Lovers. Family. Each relationship eventually became another chain capable of influencing one's decisions.
Michael couldn't help but smile bitterly. He had barely any meaningful relationships. Yet even that small number had already bee an inconvenience.
If someone who had lived for thousands of years truly cherished hundreds of people, making pletely rational decisions would bee almost impossible. No wonder so many old monsters deliberately distanced themselves from others.
Whether they truly stopped caring, or simply forced themselves to.
Michael suddenly understood them a little better.
Still, he had no choice but to slowly push those thoughts aside.
Sentiment later. Business first.
His purpose for entering the Netherworld had never changed. He had e here for dark-element resources, not family reunions.
Michael gradually restrained the oppressive authority radiating from Death's Heir. The invisible pressure blanketing the settlement noticeably weakened. Although the Skeleton Chief remained kneeling, the violent trembling within her soul flame gradually subsided.
She looked at Michael with obvious confusion.
"Let's postpone the matter of Aurora for now."
"We'll discuss it another time."
The Skeleton Chief silently nodded.
Michael's gaze drifted toward the countless skeletons filling the settlement. Then toward the large stone platform where black crystals continuously dissolved within pale blue flames.
"I have another question."
The chief waited.
"Why keep so many skeletons?"
His eyes swept across the settlement.
"Surely maintaining all of them isn't merely for sentiment, right?"
The Skeleton Chief followed his gaze. After several moments, she slowly raised one hand toward the burning platform.
"…For my advancement."
Michael looked toward the flames again.
She continued.
"The soul fire."
"The skeletons."
She paused briefly.
"They are all resources to sustain me."
Michael slowly nodded.
"I see."
He didn't find it particularly disturbing, as cruelty depended on perspective. More importantly, if she truly wished to leave the Netherworld one day, remaining at Peak Rank Two was impossible. She needed to bee Rank Three to even have a chance to break through the outer layers of this unique dimension.
Michael slowly nodded.
"That won't be necessary anymore."
The Skeleton Chief looked up in confusion.
"…Senior?"
Michael's gaze swept across the settlement. Since he could freely travel between Aurora and the Netherworld using the Mausoleum's Nether Gate, there was no reason to sacrifice so many resources merely to push a single individual toward Rank Three.
His eyes lingered on the surrounding skeletons.
At this moment, Michael had already regarded everything before him as his own. The Skeleton Chief. The guards. The citizens. Even the weak militia he had first encountered. They had all quietly bee part of his possessions the moment they came under the influence of Death's Heir.
He hadn't consciously thought that way before. Perhaps because even after obtaining Death's Heir, he still hadn't fully understood what the class truly represented and had repeatedly tried to estimate its limits.
Yet the deeper he explored Death's Heir, the more unreasonable it became. It wasn't merely powerful. It bordered on absurd. It was unreasonable. A class capable of making an entire race instinctively acknowledge him.
This gives me an idea.
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