Chapter 19 - Sins of the father.

The old man, who was sitting across the table, handed her a cup of hot tea.

Ellie accepted the hot tea, blowing on it before drinking slowly, taking in small sips. Her tongue twirled the liquid around inside her mouth, filling it with the taste of the rare herb.

Moon Heart of the Sea—a rare herb said to bloom from the mouths of ancient giants, long ago lulled into slumber by the crushing depths and sealed within the Dungeon of the Divine Water Spirit.

Moonlight had to be pulled down from the surface, guided carefully by the mermaids through shifting tides and endless darkness, until it reached the ocean floor, where the plant waited.

The tea had a bone-white texture, shimmering like frost despite the heat. No one could agree on the taste. Some said it reminded them of a kiss they never got. Others said it tasted like the last goodbye before a long war.

Ellie's lips parted from the cup. She put the cup down in front of her, her eyes and mouth closed, trying to decipher the taste.

Slowly, she opened her eyes.

"Just like how I imagine it would be." She said, her fingers playing with the edge of the cup before she picked it up again. "And here I was, hoping that my past life had drunk the tea before so that I could try it just once. But alas, my hope couldn't be shattered any further."

"He was a man of devotion, only eating and drinking the simplest dishes. He feared that if he indulged in conforming, he would lose focus on his goal."

"That was one reason." A handkerchief appeared on his hand as soon as he set his cup down. "The other was that he needed to save every coin he had to continue his research on runic magic as well as necromancy."

"Isn't necromancy taboo?" Startled, she almost spat back into the cup, her face covered in tea.

The old man—his eyes didn't look up from cleaning his beard—held out his other hand, giving Ellie a manifested napkin which she gracefully took, trying to save some face.

"It is. That's why he needed tangible goods that he could easily hide and trade whenever his hideout was raided by the Church of Three."

"Living like that must have been sucked."

"It was... quite a painful life. Hiding, running, fearing." The old man chuckled, but it wasn't because he found her remark to be amusing, but rather a pitiful chuckle to himself. "But I guess I have had some fun, experiencing life through your memories."

"Then, how about you let me out of here so that I can give you more happy experiences. You know to make up for all the bad ones."

The old man shook his head.

"I can't. I am bound to his command. I need to force you to fulfill your purpose and revive your son. Anymore questions before we start?"

"I do have a few questions that I want to ask." Ellie fold the napkin into a small triangle before putting it aside on the table. "What exactly is an A...?"

Just before she could ask the full question, there was an apple stuffed in her mouth, muffling her voice.

"Do not speak of them in such a tone!" The old man yelled out, sweat beading down from his forehead, fear shown in his tired eyes.

Ellie put her hands gently over his; her fingers slipped under his weary hand, squeezing it slightly before freeing her mouth.

"Apology. I didn't mean to upset you."

The old man sat back down on his seat, rubbing his temples. "I am sorry. I might have overreacted." Then, he continued. "To put it simply, they are the pinnacles of the spirit realm that can completely detach themselves from the physical realm and breach into the abstract plane."

"We spirits are beings born from the will of the physical world. A low-level spirit has no ego of its own. A middle-level spirit, such as myself, can command low-level spirits of my element, forcing them to do my bidding, but my power is still lacking compared to those more powerful than I am, and I need a mana stone to do so.

High-level spirits can exert greater influence on the world, able to control low-level spirits of other elements to some extent, and often manifest a physical form to dwell in the material realm. Greater-level spirits are the monarchs of the spirit realm, ruling over dungeons where many high-level spirits serve them.

However, to maintain their kingdoms, they rely on mana drawn from the Divine spirits—beings that are sustained by the Aspects."

"What could 'they' possibly want?" Ellie asked, her body leaning forward slightly, her sole focus on the low sound.

"That.. I don't know. And even if I did, I wouldn't have the means to explain it to you. How could an ant possibly tell the other ants that the giant five-headed worm that they fear so much is actually just a hand of a greater being? It has no way to communicate such a foreign concept.

Though, my creator has one hypothesis; he hypothesized that the higher a spirit ascend, the more they desire to change the world in their image—However, fate is a cruel mistress, while their power became stronger each time they got closer the source of origin, their grasp on the physical world weaken, struck in limbo between omnipotent and impotent.

Because of that fact, they couldn't rely on spirits of lower levels than them to maintain the world order they have set in place."

"They need humans to do so." Ellie's eyes widen.

"That's right. Once a human reaches the age of awakening, their character starts to develop, and a promise will be made, acting as a temporary tether between the physical and abstract realm."

"Then what about the," Ellie air quoted, "'trial'?"

"Think of it as a reinforcing state. The harder the trial, the stronger the tether. The bolsterer the tether, the more mana an Avatar's Promise can hold onto for their Character." The old man continued. "Once a human completed the trial, their Character would exit the Trial with them. But you. You're different. You're both an Avatar and a Character."

Ellie was surprised to learn about this information. "Why is that the case?"

"There can't exist two souls of the same." The old man answered. "My creator had come up with a plan. Before his death, he made a Promise to the one above me, in which any being that he eats will be revived and stored inside of his Promise in their strongest state. Then, he bound me to his soul to oversee his plan after he was reincarnated, and his memories were wiped clean.

I had to make sure your Character was him, helped you understand the language spoken 500 years ago, even giving you hints on how to pass the trial, which was to kill the false goddess. Not least, protecting your Character and Promise from being destroyed by the Thief of the Divine Light."

She slumped back on her chair, processing the information.

'It looks like my past self hadn't made it to the last stage of grief yet.'

Then, she looked at the old man. He had white hair and red eyes, a face that she was starting to familiarize herself with. Why would the spirit decide to take on the form of the man that had imprisoned it to appear before her? If it was Ellie, then you would be pretty pissed off and would not stop at nothing to sabotage her captor's plan. But this spirit was very devoted, almost like a child who only does as their parent tells.

Ellie tilted her head, she asked. "What about you?"

The dark circles under the old man's eyes expanded slowly.

"You told me all spirits—except low-level spirits—have a strong desire to change things." Her eyes stared deep into his eyes. "What is it that you want? Something so important that you would sit back and talk with me, changing your creator's plan for the whole thing?"

The old man didn't answer; he turned his gaze away from Ellie's, staring into the faraway horizon.

"Walk with me." Ellie said, standing up. The moment her feet stepped onto the air, sand appeared beneath her, sinking down slightly under the weight, leaving behind small holes that pulled in the nearby grains. "Despite having your freedom stolen by my past life, you don't seem to hold much resentment toward him."

The old man followed behind Ellie along the beach, not saying a word, and he subconsciously hunched his back, trying to make himself smaller than the person in front of him.

"You said that you were obeying my past life's command when you were protecting me. But then what about when you help me memorize Moldrivore's contact? This illusion? You are forcing me to do that sinful act, but at the same time, you are still trying to make it as pleasant as possible. I doubt my past life would have cared about that. Yet, you still helped me. And why is that?" Ellie looked back, holding out her hand, and a small wooden boy quickly grabbed it. "Because to you, a being who doesn't quite fully understand the concept of death, I am still him."

The two of them walked hand-in-hand, not another words were conveyed between them as they walked together on the shore, just listening to the sound of waves crashing into the shoreline, crashing into themselves.

Then, a child's laugh echoed across the shore.

In the distance, a wooden boy was playing in the water, his wooden feet splashing with each clumsy step. He turned now and then, his carved face beaming as he waved at the old man sitting alone on the sand. The old man smiled back, but his eyes remained indifferent, distant. Cold even.

Suddenly, the wave hit the wooden boy harder than expected, pulling him out into the open sea. he yelled out for help, but the old man just stood up and walked away.

"Papa! Help me!" He threw his arms and slammed them against the surface, trying to fight back against the current, but it was no use.

The sea swallowed him whole, pulling him deeper, his fragile wooden body groaning against the weight of rushing water.

At that time, the wooden boy, despite being a high-level wind spirit—only having the consciousness of a ten-year-old—was unfamiliar with his power.

Fear overwhelmed him, but he wasn't afraid of the crushing force his body was put under.

"Papa! Don't leave me! Please!"

The fear became bigger and bigger, condensing before exploding outward. Water burst upward, spiraling into the sky like a serpent, coiling through the wind that now bowed to his will.

The old man looked back and clapped a few times. Slow, unbothered. As if pleased that a tool had finally done what it was made to do. He wasn't proud. Just satisfied.

Behind Ellie, a voice whispered, hollow like the wind threading through dry leaves. "Not a real son."

"No matter how much I try, you will never see me as a real son." His joints creaked softly as he lowered his head, the grain of his chest splintering ever so slightly beneath the weight of those words. "You said that if I do this task for you, you will finally recognize me, not as a tool, but as a son. A real son. Before I make you... Before I make you hate me, I want you to see me as a son. Just once."

Ellie turned around, lowering herself to the wooden boy, her arms wrapped around his knee, pulling him in for a hug.

"Make me hate you?" Her grips tighten around the hardwood. "I will not allow it."

Ellie pulled away from the hug, smiling at the boy who was crying.

He looked up at her and asked.

"You won't?"

Ellie shook her head gently.

"Of course. What kind of parent would force their child to be responsible for their sin? In the first place, we are here because of my past life. This sin is mine to bear alone."

***