Deliverance watches the mirage writhe and shriek, indifferent to their agony like God is to prayer. With the Honkai, compassion is capitulation: fatal and catastrophic. It learned this lesson long ago. Does it matter that the Herrschers of this Era seem capable of empathy? Does it matter that ■■’s sacrifice seems to have meant something? With what must be absolute, perfect conviction, as if newly cleansed of its weakness and hesitation, Deliverance rejects the mirage’s plea. “It makes no difference. You are not her.”
Then, he realizes his mistake. He shouldn’t have mentioned “her” at all. Now, despite his answer, “her” face seems to coalesce, to solidify in front of him, superimposed over the mirage’s visible anguish—a memory as fresh as a wound, reopening. What he feels is neither grief nor anger, but some distant and impossible thing. Suddenly, from his earpiece, a burst of static. Mercy. A voice, urgent, yet garbled. “Sire! The Honkai energy levels—!! They’re—” The rest of the report disintegrates into noise, lost to the Honkai’s distortion. A thin ringing hovers in his ears.
“Surrender, Herrscher.” It names its enemy; it answers the mirage’s question. Radiant and ablaze, its sword of judgment shines in its merciless hand held out to its side. “I will only ask once.”
@ivsreta, continued from here. › kevin for machia.
