Right now, if there was one thing Eliot had co to realize, it was that the path he’d been following might not have been his own decision at all.
It started with being used by the Goddess for her own purposes, then moved to fulfilling ’Eren’s’ destiny. After that ca his capture and torture at Anna’s hands. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, he’d gained knowledge about enslavent—knowledge he shouldn’t have possessed. And sohow, it had felt like a perfectly reasonable idea to start by enslaving Anna herself, then continue on a spree attempting to enslave every heroine.
The more Eliot thought about the sequence of events, the more convenient and orchestrated it all seed. It felt eerily similar to when he’d been following the Goddess’s directives—everything had flowed so smoothly, so naturally, as if guided by an invisible hand.
"The rge," he recalled suddenly, his eyes widening with realization.
He connected it with sothing this girl had ntioned earlier: "Devouring the slaver." The pieces began clicking into place with disturbing clarity.
’Vessel.’ That was probably it. That was what whoever had been using him as a pawn ultimately wanted to achieve—to use his body as a vessel for themselves. The rge wasn’t so epic assimilation with his alternate self from another reality, as he’d been led to believe. No, it was the mont when he would be taken over completely, after enslaving so many people that his own soul had beco too weak and fractured to resist possession.
For now, he was absolutely done with enslaving anyone else. Not Diana. Not Natashia. Not even Jenica, despite whatever circumstances might arise. He had finally recognized that the Slave Seal might have far more damaging and insidious repercussions than he’d been allowed to know. In fact, he no longer trusted Nelia at all anymore, and certainly not that... whatever that thing was that claid to be him from another reality. Who knew if this entire elaborate story had been fabricated from the start? He’d been playing into it like a fool, trusting too easily and questioning too little.
’System, can consciousness be denied access to my thoughts?’
[What are you doing, Eliot?]
’Taking asures,’ Eliot replied simply.
[PROCESSING REQUEST]
[YES, CONSCIOUSNESS CAN BE LIMITED]
[DOES USER WISH TO PROCEED WITH LIMITATION?]
[Why are you doing this? I already told you the reasons I can’t answer your questions,] the voice protested.
’Proceed with Limitations, and mute consciousness,’ Eliot commanded, his resolve unwavering.
[PROCEEDING WITH LIMITATION]
[ELIOT! DON’T DO THIS! YOU WILL REGRET DOING THIS!] The consciousness’s voice rose in what could only be described as panic.
He ignored it completely.
[ELIOT—!]
The voice abruptly ceased, cutting off mid-protest.
[CONSCIOUSNESS SUCCESSFULLY MUTED AND LIMITED]
’Good,’ Eliot thought with grim satisfaction.
At this point, he finally understood what Nelia had truly ant when she’d described herself as his "guide." She wasn’t ant to help him in any genuine sense—she was intended to keep leading him in a specific direction, toward an outco that whoever created the System and bestowed this bloodline upon him had designed from the very beginning. For now, he needed to take a significant step back and reassess everything he thought he knew.
"What are you thinking about?" the girl asked, pulling him from his thoughts.
He glanced at her, his expression carefully neutral. "Nothing important. So... was what you just told the original reason you ca after ?"
"No," she admitted, her expression becoming complicated, almost lancholic. "I just thought... you were soone I used to know. Soone from a very long ti ago."
"...Why EXACTLY were you cursed?" Eliot asked, pressing the issue once more. Sothing about her story didn’t add up.
"I just told you," she replied, a hint of exasperation creeping into her voice.
"You did, but it doesn’t make complete sense to ," Eliot countered, leaning forward slightly. "Does every slave who kills their master get cursed? And what IS your curse exactly? You’ve been vague about the specifics."
He probed even deeper, watching her expression carefully for any tells. She frowned at his persistence.
"That’s an awful lot of questions. You haven’t even agreed to help yet, so why should I answer you?" She folded her arms defensively and asked, one of her eyebrows raised in challenge.
"I’m asking to get clarification," Eliot explained patiently. "I just t you re hours ago. You don’t honestly expect to believe everything you’re saying just because you said it, do you? I need to make absolutely sure of what I’m getting into before I commit to anything."
"So you’ll help if I answer all your questions?" she asked, her tone cautiously hopeful.
"I need to know the risks first. All of them," Eliot said firmly.
"Fine," she responded after a mont’s consideration. "Yes, whoever kills their master is automatically cursed by the ancient magic that binds the enslavent. And the curses are incredibly diverse—each one seems tailored to create maximum suffering. Mine was... to never die. To be functionally immortal."
"What?" Eliot blinked in surprise.
"Yes, I know how it sounds. It may seem like a blessing at first glance, but... it’s not. Not after living with nothing but endless pain and loss for this long," she said, her expression remaining eerily calm despite the weight of her words. "Everyone I’ve ever cared about has aged and died while I remain unchanged. Every wound I’ve suffered has healed, only for to endure new ones. I cannot escape through death, no matter how much I might wish to."
"So you want to die?" Eliot asked bluntly.
"Pretty much, yes. I’ve had more than enough of this cursed existence, this cruel joke that’s been forced upon . The loneliness of watching centuries pass while you remain frozen in ti..." She trailed off, her eyes distant.
"...," Eliot just stared at her, processing this information.
"I want you to end it," she stated plainly. "In return, I will tell you a secret. A very valuable one."
"What secret?" Eliot asked, his interest piqued despite his wariness.
"A way to escape ’its’ clutches," she whispered, and from the knowing look in her eyes, Eliot understood imdiately that she was referring to whatever consciousness or entity had been manipulating him.
"That doesn’t sound like a fair deal to ," Eliot reasoned carefully. "The way I see it, I would lose sothing potentially great by helping you die. Immortality, even cursed immortality, could be an incredible asset."
"...You could look at it that way, but... if you examine the bigger picture carefully, it’s actually far more worth it than you realize," she insisted.
"...You don’t say." Eliot stood up to leave, but she imdiately reached out and held him back.
"Wait! Fine, just tell what you want. Na your price."
"...," Eliot stared at her silently for several long minutes, his mind working through various possibilities and scenarios. After what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke.
"How strong are you?" he asked directly.
"...Very?" She tilted her head, seeming slightly confused by the question.
"Can you kill a god?" Eliot asked, watching her reaction carefully.
"Depends on what level of god we’re talking about, and whether or not I have access to a god-killer weapon," she replied matter-of-factly, not sounding at all bothered by the fact that he’d just casually ntioned deicide.
"There are levels of gods?" Eliot asked, frowning at this new information.
"Yes, of course. The hierarchy starts from demi-gods at the lowest level, moving up to deities, then world gods, celestial gods, primordial gods, and finally the LAWS themselves—the fundantal forces that govern all of reality," she explained as if this were common knowledge.
"...What level can you realistically take on?" Eliot pressed.
"With a god-killer? I could handle world gods, possibly even a weaker celestial god if circumstances were favorable. Without such a weapon? Deities at best, and even that would be an extrely difficult fight."
"Fine," Eliot said, making his decision. "Where can we find a god-killer weapon?"
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