Eleven old n sat in a room, nine wearing grim expressions. Ten of them faced a lone figure draped in a black cloak.
Hale and the other directors didn't think that a day would co when they would sit with Sanada Eiichiro again in the sa room.
Though most remained apprehensive and doubtful of what they had learned from the head director, the irreconcilable hostility had faded.
They were, at the very least, willing to hear him out this ti, not imdiately thinking that he was about to spout more lies from his filthy old mouth.
Hale knew that ti was of the essence, so he dallied no longer and began the eting.
"Everyone, I believe you already have an idea of why we're here," he began, then turned to Sanada. "Sanada, I apologize for my failures as a world leader, and I thank you for your relentless efforts and sacrifices to save the world."
Sanada naturally liked what he heard.
He felt vindicated—and free.
Free from the public scorn he had tried so hard to ignore.
Though he had long trained himself to focus solely on his goal, receiving recognition after nearly five decades of relentless effort felt undeniably gratifying.
The other directors, however, didn't like what they saw or heard.
They still weren't convinced—not without seeing the proof themselves, so Hale's act of humbling himself in front of their oldest and greatest enemy didn't sit right with them.
"Lord Hale! Raise your head! Why are you bowing to this… this… ugh, him?!" Belford exclaid, his voice laced with resentnt.
Of the ten, he harbored the deepest grudge. His capital had been seized, his infrastructure reduced to rubble, and his people terrorized.
Worse yet, many of his most trusted subordinates had been killed, Elysia—captured.
How could he possibly forgive Sanada so easily—let alone lower his head to him?
"It's alright, Belford. I understand your frustrations, and there's no need for you to bow in apology. Let bear the weight for all of us."
Sanada was in the best mood he ever had for the past five decades.
Despite having been on opposite sides of the battlefield for decades, the old terrorist leader held a deep respect for Hale.
He was reluctant to let his old comrade bow for so long.
"Hohoho, it's all in the past, Lord Hale," he chuckled, a hint of self-mockery in his voice. "Dweezel is simply too cunning. Even I failed to outwit him for far too long. It's not all your fault—my incompetence plays a part in this too."
Belford wanted to lash out and insult Sanada, but he knew it was inappropriate.
The director could only reluctantly swallow his words.
"Well, let us not dwell too much on the past, then," said Director Shin, the head of the Deltra Region WAA branch. "Lord Hale, could you please elaborate on what you just said? Is… Sanada's account the truth? And is Dweezel truly responsible for everything?"
Hale frowned upon hearing his colleague's words, nodding shortly after.
"Allow , then. I assu you all were able to watch the broadcast before it was cut off, correct?"
"Correct." the other directors confird in unison.
"I knew you couldn't reach Dweezel, not with the jamming devices active in your cities," he began. "And I knew I was the only one who could get through to the cursed snake. But in the end, there was no point, was there? Dweezel would only lie again."
He paused to catch his breath before continuing. "Fortunately, Sanada risked the only recording he had of Dweezel's evil plot and sent a few of his trusted n to infiltrate my office—Shye Crowley's underlings, to be exact. They showed this recording…"
The next mont, Hale reached into his spatial bag and pulled out a strange, purple recording crystal.
It was the first of its kind that the directors had ever seen.
So narrowed their eyes in skepticism, while others simply watched with curiosity, eager to see its contents.
The head director then placed the crystal into the mana-powered holographic projector.
In monts, a vivid holographic screen materialized, and the recording began to play.
The recording featured two figures: Aeryth Whitemane, the forr Yon Augenn Priestess Heroine, and Dweezel Hawkins, the treacherous Golden Sun Hero.
They were in a dimly lit room filled with ominous experints.
At the beginning of the recording, Aeryth Whitemane was visibly trembling, though she managed to regain control of her emotions before Dweezel noticed.
The directors watched in silence, their emotions shifting with each passing mont—fascination, fury, doubt, horror, unease, and more.
Their expressions changed with every word Dweezel uttered, each chilling proclamation revealing his hidden madness without a trace of sha or embarrassnt.
The snake even seed to take pride in it.
He unknowingly confessed to everything as Aeryth skillfully manipulated him into revealing his deepest, darkest secrets, all while he believed the priestess was truly on his side.
There was no record of anyone ever successfully tampering with the recordings in a crystal.
While so had attempted, it was nearly impossible—any tampering would leave unmistakable signs.
There was no way Sanada could have altered this recording in any way.
The directors found it difficult to believe that the old terrorist leader was telling the truth, but the evidence lay before their eyes.
They could understand why Hale had made the decision to switch sides.
The mana dungeon problem…
It had plagued their minds, gnawing at their sanity and overwhelming them with the slow, torturous certainty of the world's inevitable doom.
No matter how hard they tried, even when Shye Crowley was still with them, the spawn rates were far higher than the clearing rates of their agents and adventurers.
It was an utterly unsolvable problem.
So when they learned who was responsible for it, their fury was understandable.
Fortunately, along with this revelation ca the knowledge of how to finally solve it.
They simply had to aid Hadean Varsa at all costs in unsealing the Black Dragon of Destruction.
With Dweezel alone, surely…he wouldn't be able to stand against the combined might of Hadean Varsa and the WAA.
Reviews
All reviews (0)