After facing Saena and the future, there was only one thing left.

So I strode into the manor's study and poured myself a drink (of something amber-colored and strong-smelling that was 'magically' in the pantry) before settling into one of the ridiculously over-sized chairs.

... It was comfortable, though.

There in my study, I considered what had come before. My time in Earth Bet, armed with the power of hindsight... and my understanding of myself, after Babylonia.

After Fujimaru. After Gilgamesh. After Quetzalcoatl, even. Despite everything, I had never been angry at her. In the end... she was right about me.

I had considered having Saena show me the consequences of my thoughtlessness. The Travelers, after I'd 'disappeared' Noelle in the night. People doubtlessly killed or maimed by the Slaughterhouse Nine after I'd let them go to sway Riley in my favor. Others that hadn't even occurred to me as I floated through the world, unattached and uncaring.

It would have been pointless, though. Performative self-flagellation that accomplished nothing and progressed towards no goals. Sitting here and thinking about it was, at least, slightly less melodramatic.

... It was difficult to reconcile, psychologically speaking. The 'Michael' from back then, with the person I saw myself as now. The person I wanted to see myself as. Fujimaru and Gilgamesh had both given me their wisdom, in their own ways, and I'd thought I accepted it.

It was different, when turning back towards Earth Bet felt like going back to a nexus of toxicity.

... And perhaps, at its core, that was the problem. I was avoiding it. Part of me wanted to simply turn around and pick a new world, start an entire new adventure to avoid having to face things.

Trying to figure out how to 'make up' for being a solipsistic asshole with no consideration outside of himself, as if such a thing was even possible.

"You are brooding, my contractor," Morgan's smooth voice interrupted as she quietly strode into the study, gleaming blue eyes flicking across the books that lined the walls.

"Are we not allowed to regret the past?" I asked, mulishly.

Silence greeted me.

I closed my eyes, wincing. "... I'm sorry, Morgan. That was cruel of me."

"It was," she said, her voice a bit sharper. "... But I forgive you nonetheless."

I chuckled, harshly. "The forgiveness of Morgan le Fey? I am blessed to receive such treasure."

"You are," she answered haughtily. "See that you hold it in regard worthy of its rarity."

I heard a small clink as she retrieved the bottle from behind me, before she strode into my field of view and planted herself in my lap.

She was very soft.

"I can imagine what troubles you, then," she continued. When I made a face, she chuckled deep in her chest, smirking sharply at me. "Alas, my contractor, you have bound yourself up too tightly in us all to be allowed to wallow in solitude. If you thought to suffer alone, you are the apex of foolishness." She took a small sip from the bottle. "If not me, then one of the others. Am I wrong, Medusa?"

I blinked as she turned towards one corner of the study and, after a long moment, the Avenger materialized from her spirit form with her usual stoic face. I'd been distracted enough not to notice her astralized presence, then.

... Damn. I really am out of sorts.

"After harsh battle, won or lost, there are two types," Medusa spoke quietly, though her sheer presence still filled the small room. "Those who revel and those who withdraw. I was merely curious which type my master is."

"This one is not much for revelry," Morgan said quietly, hand coming up to trace along my face. "Speak, Michael. What weighs on you?"

I worked my jaw, chewing on the question. After a moment, Morgan offered me the bottle; I took a drink from it with little hesitation.

Not that alcohol affects me the same way anymore, after everything.

"I thought you said you knew already."

"I suspect I do," she said. "Nonetheless. Words have power, especially those freely and truly spoken."

There was a long silence, as I felt both Morgan and Medusa's eyes upon me. Eventually, I broke it.

"I am afraid," I finally began. "Babylonia... I admired Uruk. Admired its people and their resilience, admired its king and his wisdom, admired the Servants that protected it. After so long among them, I even grew to love the city." I stared at the wall and could almost see Earth Bet beyond it, grim and gloomy.

"The world before... I had no such attachments. I hated it. Hated its people, trapped in cycles of suffering and violence. Hated its nature. Hated the ones who pulled the strings. From that place I plucked some small things that mattered to me and damned the rest. I looked down at it like a petulant child playing with dolls, leaving them the moment they turned boring."

I leaned my head back, unwilling to look at Morgan's face or her deeply focused eyes. "I let the worst of men walk away from me because it made things simpler and didn't give it a second thought. I seduced someone with promises of aid and betrayed them, because I never truly had the means to help them in the first place. It was simply more expedient to stab her in the back, instead of fight her. And at every step, it was so easy. I cared... not at all."

I closed my eyes. "I don't want to be that person. And I'm terrified that I will be regardless; that I'll backslide —"

"Michael," Medusa cut me off. I turned to her and found not only her shining eyes but each of her snakes' gazes locked on me. "Do you recall your promise to me, master?"

"To save you from your hatred," I reiterated.

"Yes. You swore to the very monster you fear becoming that you guard against such a thing. Were those mere empty words?"

"No," I answered her firmly. "I meant everything I said to you."

"Then this wavering conviction is unbecoming of you, master. One who can stand beneath the gaze of the beast of the Shapeless Isle and utter such oaths should not fear themselves," she declared before breaking eye contact, her piece apparently given.

As if it were that simple. As if...

Medusa's fingers traced my jaw and pulled my face back towards her.

"I am afraid, my knight, that the evil in your past will never fade. It exists, frozen in time, unchanging and uncaring. Nothing that you do, neither oath nor action, will ever touch it."

I closed my eyes, unable to bear the way she looked at me. The softness in her eyes. The depth of understanding, from someone who had far more regrets and far longer to regret them.

"Your regret, isolated, is meaningless. A platitude for the weak. No matter how fervently you look back and wish to be different, that wish is a hollow and poisonous thing. Look, instead, forward — accept the monster you have been." She laid a hand flat against my chest, feeling my heartbeat. "Accept the capacity for that evil within you, for that too shall never change. Cage it, chain it, set watch upon it; then, unleash it only when you have chosen to do so." I felt her forehead touch mine, gently. "You are no slave to yourself. That sword would have never accepted you, were that the case."

Deep in my soul, I felt a resonance, and knew that Merodach agreed with her.

...

What had Fujimaru said?

"Doing good things doesn't erase the bad. But the opposite is true, too! Doing bad things doesn't stop you from doing good!"

...

Slowly, I blew out a breath, feeling the tension bleed out of my shoulders.

Okay, then.

I opened my eyes to see Morgan's glimmering blue irises peering intently at me.

Whatever she saw in mine, after a moment, she smiled.

"You owe me an adventure together, my knight... But first, perhaps we should return to your old world. I suspect you have old ghosts to hunt down."

"Thank you, Morgan." My eyes shifted. "Thank you, Medusa."

She avoided my gaze, slowly dissolving into her spirit form without responding.

That was fine. I understood her meaning.

For now... Morgan leaned against me, and I considered.

Saena? I need some plans.

In response, I felt a deep sense of approval bloom across our connection.

JUST AS PLANNED

BOOK I: END