I didn't see Enzuk for what seemed like an eternity, although it may have only been a few days. Stripped of the luxury of natural sunlight, I found myself dependent on the monotonous glow of the routine artificial lighting in my desolate cell. I didn't even catch a glimpse of Enzuk in my dreams, which was unusual. Whenever I couldn't see him in person, I could always count on my dreams to bring him to life. However, this time, he seemed to have vanished completely. There were no visits from him, no appearances in my dreams. It was as if he had disappeared from my subconscious realm as well.

Besides Enzuk's sudden absence from my life, what made things even worse was that Melxa kept subjecting me to a series of excruciating tests. These tests not only challenged my character, but also presented me with life and death dilemmas that pushed me to my limits. On top of that, I was also subjected to various tests that compelled me to participate in specific acts of servitude. Melxa said they were tests were designed to teach me humility, discipline, and the importance of selflessness.

Sometimes, Melxa transported me to kitchen-like areas where I found myself handed recipe cards that unveiled the secrets of preparing peculiar and exotic dishes, filled with ingredients I had never encountered before. I explored the art of blending flavors and textures in ways I had never imagined. On other occasions, I was transported to simulated grand dining halls that exuded an air of regality. In these majestic settings, I was taught the art of table setting fit for royalty. Melxa's teachings enlightened me on the intricacies of arranging silverware, and what looked like fine china, and delicate linens. Mexla always ensured that every detail was meticulously attended to.

Still, Melxa's teachings extended beyond the physical aspects of table setting. He educated me in the nuances of etiquette and decorum, teaching me to embody the grace and poise befitting a royal gathering. I was instructed on the art of bowing in reverence, a gesture of respect and admiration for the noble guests who might grace these opulent halls.

I received teachings that ingrained in me the practice of averting my gaze and refraining from speaking unless directly addressed. These lessons were instilled in me as a way to show respect and deference to others. By lowering my eyes and waiting to be spoken to, I was taught to prioritize the opinions and needs of others above my own. This cultural norm aimed to cultivate a sense of humility and politeness in my interactions with those of the Omna.

Each day, I found myself entrusted with various tasks that demanded nothing short of perfection. The weight of this expectation was immense, as any slight imperfection would result in having to repeat the task until it met the standards set before me. This unyielding pursuit of flawlessness left me utterly drained by the end of each day.

The pressure to achieve perfection in every task was unrelenting. It required an unwavering attention to detail, a meticulousness that left no room for error. The constant repetition of tasks, driven by the pursuit of flawlessness, became a never-ending cycle that consumed my energy and left me feeling physically and mentally exhausted.

Melxa's desire for perfection, while admirable in its own, became a double-edged sword. On the one hand, it pushed me to constantly strive for excellence and to deliver nothing short of the best. However, on the other hand, it was an insatiable beast that demanded more and more, leaving no room for respite or satisfaction.

The toll of Melxa's relentless pursuit of perfection was evident in my weariness. Fatigue settled deep within my bones, making each step heavier, each thought slower. The exhaustion was not merely physical, but also mental and emotional.

At the end of every day, I longed for a moment of respite, a chance to escape the never-ending cycle of perfection. I yearned for a reprieve from the constant pressure to meet impossibly high standards. The exhaustion I felt was a testament to the lengths I had gone to in order to achieve perfection, but it also served as a reminder of the toll it had taken on me.

"Finish your task," Melxa's voice echoed through my cell, jolting me out of my half-asleep state. I was exhausted, my body aching from the long hours of concentration. The dim light in the room did little to alleviate my fatigue, and I struggled to keep my eyes open.

Reading the complex dilemma in front of me felt like deciphering a cryptic code. The words blurred together, forming a maze of confusion in my mind. Each sentence seemed to twist and turn, leading me further away from comprehension. The weight of the task pressed down on me, suffocating any remaining motivation I had left.

"Concentrate," Melxa's voice pierced through the haze, his tone firm and unwavering. He sat on the other side of the glass wall, his posture poised and alert. His eyes bore into mine, demanding my full attention.

I reluctantly dragged my gaze back to the scenario presented before me. The words danced on the page, taunting me with their complexity. The situation depicted was a web of intricate details, each one crucial to unraveling the puzzle.

Part 1:

….In the cases stated above, the justification for the killing goes beyond the mere prevention of a potential disaster. Instead, it is based on the belief that the individual being targeted has behaved in a manner that justifies their elimination, regardless of their consent or the violation of their rights.

This perspective suggests that certain actions or behaviors can render a person exempt from the moral and ethical considerations typically associated with killing. It implies that their actions have forfeited their right to life or have placed them in a position where their elimination is morally permissible.

This notion challenges the conventional understanding of the value and sanctity of life, as it introduces the concept that certain individuals can be deemed deserving of death based on their actions alone. It raises questions about the boundaries of moral responsibility and the extent to which one's actions can justify extreme measures such as killing.

Overall, this perspective acknowledges that there are instances where killing may be deemed permissible, not solely based on the consequences it may avert, but also on the belief that the individual being targeted has acted in a way that justifies their elimination.

Would you agree? Why or why not? Address the reasons and logic behind your answer. Provide an example in which this situation might apply.

Part 2:

This topic raises concerns about the nature of justice, mercy, and the impact on those who have suffered due to the individual's actions.

Redemption, in this context, refers to the possibility of the person changing, reforming, or making amends for their past actions. It suggests that despite their wrongdoing, they can still find a path towards personal growth, rehabilitation, and ultimately, becoming a better person.

However, the concept of redemption does not negate the need for justice. Justice seeks to ensure that individuals are held accountable for their actions and that the victims receive some form of reparation or closure. It aims to maintain a fair and balanced society where the rule of law is upheld.

Showing mercy to a person deserving of death raises concerns about the potential injustice towards those who have suffered due to their actions. It may be argued that granting mercy could undermine the severity of the crimes committed and fail to provide the necessary closure or justice to the victims.

The question of redeemability and mercy can depend on various factors, including the nature and severity of the crimes committed, the individual's capacity for change, and the potential risks they may pose to society if given a chance at redemption.

Ultimately, the decision on whether to show mercy is a delicate balance between the pursuit of justice and the belief in the potential for redemption.

Who deserves justice, the offender/s or the victim/s? Is there a way to provide justice for both parties? If yes, explain how. If not, discuss why this is not possible.

I let out a heavy sigh, the weight of the situation settling heavily on my shoulders. The task at hand demanded a level of concentration and mental sharpness that seemed to elude me in that moment. Even though I mechanically typed in the answers, the process felt draining, as if it was sapping the last remnants of my energy. I could feel my eyelids growing heavy, threatening to betray me and succumb to exhaustion.

As I pondered the complexities of crime, my mind wandered into a labyrinth of moral ambiguity. Who truly had the authority to define what constituted a crime? Was it society, the lawmakers, or perhaps something more subjective? Different species had different understandings of what law was and what crime is. The notion of killing could be labeled as a crime. But, what if the act was committed in defense of one's own species or the preservation of other forms of life? In such a case, it wouldn't be a cold-blooded murder but rather an act of self-defense, protecting what was deemed valuable and worthy of protection.

But then a disturbing thought interrupted my musings. If the person who resorted to self-defense was ultimately killed, wouldn't that be an example of true murder? Taking someone's life for a crime they never committed, a crime that existed solely in the mind of the accuser, seemed unjust and cruel. It raised profound questions about the nature of justice, the fragility of judgment, and the potential for grave injustices to be committed in the name of righteousness.

"Can I please do this tomorrow or something?" I pleaded, my voice lined with exhaustion and frustration.

Melxa, with an unwavering determination, firmly responded, "No, you must complete it now."

I couldn't help but express my exasperation, "Melxa, I've dedicated countless days to tasks like this already. Besides, your questions are so subjective. How can you expect me to define real murder when the fundamental concept of self-defense isn't even taken into consideration? It seems unjust to overlook such a crucial aspect. You act as if the complexity of real-life situations could be reduced to a mere black-and-white definition."

"Is that so?" a deep voice echoed from behind, sending a chill down my spine. It was a voice that didn't belong to Melxa. No, this voice was unfamiliar to me, carrying an air of authority and power. Instantly, Melxa's eyes widened in surprise as he hastily stood up and bowed respectfully.

"My Lord," he stammered, his voice filled with both awe and trepidation. "I didn't know to expect you today."

As I turned around, my eyes met the gaze of a figure that exuded an aura of grandeur and majesty. It was clear that this was someone of immense importance, someone who commanded respect and obedience from all those around him. His presence alone seemed to fill the room, making the air heavy with anticipation.

The mysterious figure, whom apparently was a 'lord' surveyed my room with a penetrating gaze. His blue eyes, sharp and piercing, seemed to hold a wealth of knowledge and experience. They were similar to Enzuk's, only more aged.

"You were not expecting me, Melxa," he said, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. "You say that as if I should have forewarned you."

"Um. N-no-"

"I know what you're up to here. I am fully aware of your actions. Showing up unannounced allows me to see things as they are, not as you would prepare them."

As I observed the scene unfolding before me, I couldn't help but feel a mixture of fear and curiosity. Who was this mysterious figure? What power did he hold over Melxa? And, most importantly, what was his purpose for being here?

The new creature, with his head raised and eyes narrowed, turned toward me. Though fatigue threatened to consume me, I summoned the remnants of my training to respond appropriately. It was evident that he held a position of royalty, as his regal presence was accentuated by a resplendent silver cape that shimmered in the light and a crown adorned with crystals that sparkled like precious gems. I swiftly pushed my chair back, humbling myself by dropping to my knees and bowing before him. My gaze remained fixed on the ground, my heart pounding with anxiety, fearing that my actions were not swift enough to meet his expectations.

"I asked you a question," he said in a firm tone. Was he talking to me? Or was he still talking to Melxa? I raised my eyes slightly and caught his hard gaze staring down at me. "Don't make me ask twice. I don't like repeating myself."

I only remembered him saying 'is that so.' But is what so? Was he listening to my conversation with Melxa? Or did I miss something else due to sleep deprivation? I didn't want to stay silent too long. He didn't seem the patient type.

I lowered my eyes as I replied, "I apologize if I missed your question. Could you please repeat it?" Lord. "Sir-Lord."

I observed his shoes with intrigue as he drew nearer, captivated by their peculiar material. They possessed an otherworldly essence, as if plucked straight from the pages of a fantastical tale.

"You spoke of the distinction between self-defense and murder, the contrast between justice and mercy. Do you truly advocate for the inclusion of self-defense as a factor in murder trials? Do you genuinely believe in the existence of mercy and its role in serving justice?"

I hesitated before answering. "Well. If the person who resorted to self-defense was ultimately killed, wouldn't that be an example of true murder?"

"Hmmm. And what if the person, who boldly asserts their innocence and claims self-defense, was actually the very one who committed the heinous crime that demanded justice to be served? Is it not a paradoxical notion for such an individual to seek refuge in self-defense against the very executor of justice, whose duty is to bring them to account for their actions?"

"It is important to consider the concept of mercy in such cases," I argued, "but, I do also think it wouldn't be fair for a person to falsely claim self-defense knowing that they are the one that started the reason justice must be carried out."

"I agree. And you are correct to say it wouldn't be fair," he replied, circling around me. "And thus, the idea of mercy should be taken off the table. Justice must prevail."

I paused, mulling over his words. "If that were true, it would indeed ensure fairness and accountability." I knew what he was getting at. Or at least I thought I did. He and Enzuk shared similar notions of justice when it came to killing the human species. I felt that was the underlying topic here. "However, is it fair to judge children for the crimes of their parents? Should an entire species be judged based on the actions of a few individuals? Is that the essence of true justice?"

My questions hung in the air, heavy with uncertainty, as he took a momentary pause, leaving me in suspense. The silence between us seemed to stretch on, amplifying the weight of his words. "A weed is a weed," he finally stated. "It would be foolish to expect that any seeds from a weed could transform into a beautiful flower or a fruitful tree. Therefore, when the seeds of a weed are present, it would be wise to eliminate them, foreseeing their inevitable nature before they even sprout."

In response to his statement, I lifted my head, meeting his gaze with determination. "Plants do not possess the ability to make choices. They simply exist as they are," I countered, my voice filled with conviction. "A person, on the other hand, can be born a certain way but still have the power to decide which choices they will make. It is unjust to judge someone based on the actions and choices of another individual. True justice lies in recognizing each person's individuality and agency. I understand your anger toward us, but we didn't do anything to deserve your attacks."

I had read the journal that spoke about the ancient humans and how they tortured Omna. But the Omna delivered justice on the ancient humans. To attack us, because of what our ancestors did, didn't seem fair.

"You understand my anger toward you?" he asked with curiosity.

"Yes. I do," I replied, my tone filled with empathy. "What the ancient humans did to your race was unforgivable."

A flicker of surprise danced across his eyes. "You are very young to know such truths. How do you know about the ancient humans and their past dealing with us?"

I paused for a moment, gathering my thoughts. "I was given a journal. A book or journal was found in the caves underground on Earth. One of my colleagues gave it to me."

"The ancient humans did not speak in any of the human languages you are familiar with. How did you understand the text?"

"I sort of worked at translating the text. I have-or had a program on my computer that allowed me to dive into ancient texts and languages. It was time consuming, but I was able to decipher most of it."

His anger seemed to soften, replaced by a glimmer of curiosity. "And what did you discover?"

"The writings were full of oppression, discrimination, and the systematic eradication of your people. I learned about the pain and suffering inflicted upon your race."

He nodded, a mix of gratitude and sadness etched on his face. "To hear a human acknowledge our pain... is a rare occurrence. But you still cannot fully comprehend the depth of our anguish. You said it is unjust to judge someone based on the actions and choices of another individual. You feel that the decree to wipe out humans is unjust, and that we are making your race pay for sins they did not commit. You also say that each human should be judged individually. Yes?

"Yes. I do."

A mischievous grin spread across his face as he peered down at me, exuding an unmistakable aura of superiority. "Shall we discuss your individual actions then?" he taunted, his voice dripping with arrogance. With effortless grace, he settled himself onto a nearby chair, crossing his legs in a display of refined poise. Holding up the vial containing my creation, he examined it with a mixture of curiosity and disdain. "You concocted this," he declared, his tone laced with a hint of menace. "It possesses a lethal potency, akin to the dangerous substances crafted by humans of yore. One might argue that if something walks, talks, and resembles a weed, it is, without a doubt, a weed. Your actions bear a striking resemblance to those of the humans we once eradicated in the distant past. It is a disconcerting parallel, as you appear to be treading the same path they once did. Yet, amidst this disquieting similarity, you claim that you should be set apart. So, I ask you, what truly sets apart the act of creating deadly toxins then and now?"

"The motive," I said defensively. "The other humans may have harbored malicious intentions when they concocted their serums. It was a heinous crime, one that warranted justice. But, you have already carried out punishment against them. You can kill someone because you want to, or you can kill someone in self-defense. While my ancestors might have done the first, mine motive was the second. My intention to develop toxins stemmed from a genuine need to safeguard and shield myself and my species against an unjustifiable assault. I, along with others, was condemned to death without my true nature being scrutinized. What else what I supposed to do? Lie down and let you kill us? Without a fight?"

He raised his head and smirked again, tapping his foot on the ground. "Many humans of your species have been examined. Peace was considered and presented, even if you were unaware of it. Humans were not interested in pursuing peace. Do you think we did not try to reason with you humans? True to their character, your species probably deceived and lied to you. I assume you knew nothing of these conversations. You thought we were an unknown species that simply attacked you without offering peace?"

I opened and closed my mouth, at a loss for words. "But…" I thought to myself.

"But you were never told?"

No, I wasn't. But then again, the whole thing happened so quickly. I shook my head. "No. I wasn't."

"Humans are known to keep secrets," he said in a low voice.

"Still, other humans can't speak for me. I would have chosen peace. Even when I spoke with Enzuk," the man's brow lifted with surprise when I said Enzuk's name, but I continued to speak, "I asked him repeatedly what we must do to have peace. His answer was always that we had been judged, that we deserved death. However, I did nothing but try to defend myself and others. It's not fair to hold me accountable for choices I was never given."

His chuckle, as if he found the notion amusing. "I can understand why you might perceive things the way you do," he said with a touch of empathy. "But sometimes, the potential repercussions of granting everyone the freedom to choose outweigh the advantages of doing so. After all, like you, I have the responsibility of safeguarding the wellbeing of my people. I simply cannot afford to spend my time interrogating every single human that crosses my path. When humans posed a threat, I took decisive action to eliminate it. True, war is a terrible thing. Innocent lives are always lost in war. But, when no peace can be found, war is the only option. And life is, unfortunately, the price. Innocent or not."

In his words, there was a sense of pragmatism and a recognition of the difficult decisions he had to make as a leader. The weight of his duty to protect his people was evident, even if it meant sacrificing individual freedoms. It was a stark reminder of the complex nature of leadership and the tough choices that often had to be made for the greater good.

He raised another brow, his eyes narrowing slightly, as he waited patiently for my response. His expression held a sort of challenge, as if he was expecting me to present a counter argument to his statement. But as I pondered his words, I realized that he had presented his case so convincingly that it left no room for any other decision.

I shook my head, feeling a sense of resignation. It was clear that his perspective was well-thought-out and logical. The weight of his argument was undeniable, and I couldn't help but acknowledge the validity of his position. "When you put it that way, there doesn't seem to be room for any other decision besides yours." His confident demeanor remained unchanged, but I could sense a hint of satisfaction in his eyes.

He chuckled again. "My decision? No. It was not my decision to go to war with you humans. As I said, peace was offered. My decision was in response to the decline of peace. The human race has always been a proud species. Even in the face of death, some humans refuse to seek peace. So, it is hard to reason with humans at times. War seems to be the only thing that humans understand."

"And so, you decided to go to war. A war you probably knew we couldn't win."

He smiled. "It is not my fault humans picked the wrong adversary," he said, his voice resonating with an undeniable aura of dominance and control. He gracefully rose from his seat, his posture exuding an air of regality, as he effortlessly intertwined his fingers behind his back, a gesture that only further emphasized his authority. "Rise," he commanded.

I slowly stood, my body aching from sitting in a bowed position for so long.

He continued, "the exchange between us was invigorating, a feeling I seldom experience. Despite your youth, I genuinely enjoyed listening to your unique perspective on the world and your concepts of justice. However, it is crucial for you to acknowledge that there are intricate forces at play here, far surpassing your current understanding. You may have read an ancient journal and had a hand in trying to protect your race from extinction, but that is not even the half of it. There is a great deal of many things you still do not know, and could not know because one, you are too young, and two, your race keeps secrets. Even from their own kind."

I couldn't help but hang my head a little. It felt as though he was delivering a solemn pronouncement, his words akin to the final address before an execution. The weight of his authority hung heavy in the air, leaving me with a sense of trepidation.

"And, although I cannot interview every human, I did get a chance to have a personal conversation with you. I want to make it clear that I am not absolving you of the sentence that has been handed down to you. However, out of sheer curiosity, I will temporarily delay its execution to explore the possibility of any potential leniency."

I raised my eyes to his. It was nice to know that he was at least open to considering alternative options or circumstances that may warrant a lesser penalty. "H-How do I prove that I am worthy of leniency?"

"Through your choices, of course," he smiled. But what choices would I be presented with? Would he ask me to commit a heinous act or engage in something indecent? As he made his way toward the glass door, ready to leave, his eyes caught sight of my journal. Time seemed to freeze as he did a double take, his gaze fixated on the personal sanctuary that held all my intimate thoughts. Panic surged through me, and my breath hitched in my throat. The last thing I wanted was for him to invade the privacy of my mind by reading my innermost desires and dreams, especially those involving Enzuk.

He picked up my journal, turning it over in his hands, examining it from every angle. His curiosity was evident as he carefully observed the intricate details of the cover and the worn pages within. However, as he attempted to open it, a mysterious force seemed to come to life, sealing the book shut before his very eyes. The unexpected event caught him off guard, his eyebrows furrowing in surprise.

"Melxa is up to his old tricks, I see," he remarked with both frustration and intrigue.

"It was a gift. Well. Something for me to write my thoughts in. It's nothing more than a journal."

His gaze pierced through me; his disapproval palpable. "And something that's meant to be private, obviously," he said, his tone dripping with skepticism.

I could feel the weight of his judgment hanging heavy in the air. But I refused to let it deter me. "Yes," I replied, my voice steady, masking the nervousness that threatened to consume me.

His eyes narrowed, a flicker of curiosity mingling with his disdain. "I don't think I approve of you having a means to write down secretive thoughts," he mused, his voice laced with a warning. "But again, I am patient. If you are indeed up to something, time will reveal it."

His words lingered, echoing in the silence of the room. I knew my every move would be scrutinized moving forward. The weight of his expectations bore down on me, a constant reminder of the consequences that awaited any misstep.

"Tread carefully, human," he cautioned, his voice a low growl. "Your future choices will deliver you the sentence you deserve."

As he placed the book back on the table, his departure was swift and enigmatic. The glass wall, once transparent, turned opaque, obscuring my view of the outside world. I was left alone, trapped within the confines of my cell.