PRINCIPLES AND LAST WORDS, PART 2.

"Man... I love smart people!" His noble words were directed towards Lucius.

Lucius couldn't help but lower his guard slightly, along with his head. He was a bit embarrassed, but also happy. That much was obvious. After all, to be praised like this, and so genuinely, by the very man he idolised…

Back when Zero Dawn made him kneel, Lucius had genuinely regretted meeting his hero — the man who had once inspired him. Inspired him to become an adventurer. A swordsman. A protector in the eyes of a few. Someone who willingly put his own life on the line to protect others, just like Zero Dawn once had, earning the eternal gratitude of Verdun's people.

Yet, there had been a moment when Lucius thought maybe the saying he never believed in was, in fact, true:

"You should never meet your idols."

Because the image we create of our idols — the ideal, the legend — often crumbles when faced with reality. Most of the time, these people show their real selves — their true nature. And it doesn't always sit right with us or match the idealised version we admired.

It's nobody's fault — just an unfortunate reality that leaves the admirer disappointed in more ways than one.

"Yes, it's a fundamental rule — a law, perhaps — that pure raw mana cannot belong to anyone. No one can establish true authority over it. Maybe temporarily, yes. Maybe for an instant, possibly. But never truly. Never forever. Just like how sentient beings can't survive without mana circulation inside their bodies. It's an unofficial law — an unbreakable rule..." Zero Dawn explained, the mana orb in his hand fading away as he pointed directly at Lucius.

"But then again... rules are meant to be broken, right?" he said, smiling — and Lucius immediately understood the deeper meaning behind his words, because he himself was the very contradiction to that rule.

His ability to survive without mana circulation, possibly forever — that was a loophole. A glitch in the system. An anomaly. A rulebender.

"Amongst the thousands of laws and fundamentals that govern our world — the very foundation of mana itself — a few stand as absolutes. Unbreakable and unchangeable." Zero Dawn paused, his gaze sharp. "Well… three of them have already been broken. Surpassed. In just the last two decades, by two individuals. You… and the one responsible for my awakening, twenty years ago — the heir of the Skydaggers... Andromeda Skydagger."

'Andromeda Skydagger, huh… ' Lucius wasn't even surprised anymore. Her name had already been brought up too many times.

Still… the moment Zero Dawn described her as a rulebender or worse, a rulebreaker — alongside him, something shifted. Lucius's interest was piqued.

He subtly gestured for Zero Dawn to continue. This explanation mattered. It was necessary. Lucius could feel it in his chest.

"Let's start off with you. Your technique — Absolute Zero. We both already know about that, right?" Zero Dawn asked.

Lucius nodded with confidence. Absolute Zero's origins were still shrouded in mystery, yes — but its fundamentals and application were clear, graspable… even if they were an impossible anomaly made real.

"Second comes your telekinetic connection to mana—to pure, raw mana—which listens to you, obeys your commands, your pleas... for some reason," Zero Dawn added.

Telekinesis wasn't just mysterious. It was beyond mysterious. Both Mercy and Ninia had agreed on that — and now, so did Zero Dawn.

If Absolute Zero was an absurd impossibility... then Telekinesis was at least a hundred steps above that.

"Raw mana doesn't belong to anyone. You said that yourself, just a few minutes ago," Zero Dawn said. "And yet, I recall you referring to yourself as—"

"Mana's favourite child…" Lucius finished his sentence calmly, his head was on his hand, massaging, this tiring explanation was a bit lot for him.

Zero Dawn didn't take offence this time. Unlike before, he replied: "Correct."

"Some mages' elemental affinities don't obey their masters the way raw mana responds to your commands… to your pleas. That's something beyond even my decades of understanding mana," Zero Dawn admitted. "This also means one thing — if you'd acted like a more mature, sensitive fella, you could've already ascended to the Saint Stage. You could've theoretically constructed layers of pure mana over your mana core… Imagine that."

He shared his theories and insights openly, while Lucius took his time absorbing them, piece by piece. It was a lot to process, suddenly and calmly.

If what Zero Dawn said was actually true… if that scenario had come to pass… then it would've completely changed how Lucius perceived himself — and his strength. He might have never needed to grow so desperate or push himself so violently. His strength would've arrived sooner or later.

And yet, questions flooded his mind.

Without waiting for permission, he challenged Zero Dawn's theory.

"How can that even be remotely possible?" Lucius asked. "Just because mana listens to me doesn't mean it'll always obey me… or assist me."

His tone grew heavier. "Like… during the final stint against the Chimaera — during my last movements — I recall calling out to mana… to telekinesis… to help Forza. One last time. When the Chimaera's arm tried to interrupt her final strike. And guess what? Telekinesis didn't respond. It didn't obey me."

Lucius looked and sounded exhausted. Not physically. But mentally. Spiritually. Yet Zero Dawn wasn't about to let him or his doubts rest. Not yet.

"Mana's not your personal pet, you know?" Zero Dawn replied bluntly. "Sure, it lets you establish some level of authority over it — but remember this: even a domesticated animal or beast can lash out at its owner… if the owner keeps poking it."

He folded his arms, gaze firm.

"Besides, your relationship with mana is… weird, I must say. The only individual with the ability to influence pure raw mana… is the same guy who can live like a normal person without mana circulation at all... That's ironic — and iconic."

Lucius didn't disagree.

What Zero Dawn meant was clear: Yes, Lucius had a one-of-a-kind connection to mana. Good for him. But he couldn't expect mana — the same entity that governed the very fabric of their universe — to act like his personal limb, obeying every order on demand.

The rest? Even Zero Dawn had no answers for. So neither of them said anything more about it, silently agreeing on not diving deep into that topic any further.

"...How are you so sure I could've constructed new layers of mana over my core without compromising myself my life?" Lucius questioned, tone weighed down with genuine doubt. "Didn't you just say mana can lash out at me, too? Which indirectly means it can't really be trusted. It would need to be constantly monitored—watched carefully—like… like trying to train with my left arm while solving an equation with my right. A divided focus..."

He paused. A sharp breath. A flicker in his eyes.

"...I've lost an arm, haven't I?" he asked—not to Zero Dawn, but more to himself.

Zero Dawn didn't respond at first. He watched in silence as Lucius's eyes drifted away from the throne, away from the Dragon Emperor's figure, down toward his own arm—his right one. It looked normal here. Healthy. Responsive. As if nothing had ever happened. But that was only because this was this realm—a space of dreams, illusions, thought.

"And an eye," Zero Dawn finally added coldly.

The reminder hit like a slap. The Dragon Emperor, taking on his role as lord of this realm, didn't allow sentiment to linger. And as if to reinforce that very truth, Lucius's conjured form began to change. His entire right arm—gone. His right eye vanished.

Both disintegrated into particles of golden-white light, fading from existence within this realm… just as they had in the real world.

"Yet you've done it once before, haven't you?" Zero Dawn pressed on, refusing to let Lucius fall into the weight of regret or memory.

"Huh...? Say what?" Lucius blinked, unsure of which event Zero Dawn meant.

"When that chick of yours was falling from the skies," Zero Dawn clarified, voice cool and steady. "You used your telekinesis to land her safely. First, you slowed her fall, then you changed her trajectory towards the lake. The same lake where you'd lost your sword. At the same time, you held back a charging—and very pissed—Chimaera, with that same telekinesis."

Lucius's jaw tightened. The memory flashed. He opened his mouth to speak, but Zero Dawn raised a finger.

"Shhh," he said, silencing Lucius before the words could even form.

"I know what you're about to say—'It was imperfect,' 'It barely lasted a few seconds,' 'The backlash was insane,' and so on and so on. And I agree. It probably drained you mentally more than I can even imagine. But here's the thing, Lucius: you did it."

His words cut cleanly.

"You successfully split your focus—your very thoughts—into two independent commands, for just a few seconds. Not under training. Not in a calm setting. But under pressure, no, under desperation."

"Desperation," Zero Dawn continued, "is perhaps the most motivating factor among us humans. It brings out the best—the most unexpected parts, abilities, instincts—from within us. Desperation tied to protecting someone, or facing the absolute possibility of death, really pulls out our most hidden, mysterious ways of functioning—mentally and 'manatically.'"

He leaned forward, eyes sharp. "Do you know why I was truly feared by my enemies… admired and envied by my fellow nobles and royal citizens of Verdun, a thousand years ago?"

Lucius had no concrete answer at first. The truth was, Zero Dawn had been all of that—revered, envied, hated, and admired—by millions, perhaps billions. Even Acronis himself, according to legend, had once commended the Dragon Emperor, calling him his only equal.

Lucius knew this. Being a fan and longtime admirer of Zero Dawn meant countless hours spent reading, researching, devouring stories and fragments of history about the man known as the Lord of Dragons.

"Your advancements and discoveries in mana-related on and off battlefields?" Lucius answered—though it came out more like a question, despite being nearly ninety-nine per cent sure it was correct.

Zero Dawn was… stunned. Not by the answer. But by the boy himself. He blinked once, slowly, before letting out a huff that was somewhere between disbelief and bafflement.

"How are you so smart..." he began, "...yet so damn stupid at the same time, especially in real life?"

His tone wasn't cruel—it was confused as if he were genuinely trying to understand how someone like Lucius, with all that intelligence, all that insight and ability to connect deep theoretical knowledge... could turn around and make decisions so bad that even a man using ten per cent of Lucius's brain would hesitate for a second before deciding against it.

"Umm..." Lucius mumbled, trying to find an answer for Zero Dawn as well as for himself, but none came, as he himself was not sure about what to say, really—what were the things, the scenarios that really made him act like he did, hurting only himself in the process. Zero Dawn, watching his reaction, nodded sideways in visible disappointment, before his head immediately jerked upwards at the pure white ceiling of the realm. Lucius took a second to look up towards Zero Dawn, out of embarrassment, but when he did, his eye immediately followed Zero Dawn's line of sight as well.

At first, when his eye lingered on the ceiling for a few seconds, he noticed nothing unusual, except the fact that the ceiling was too vast, white and pure, nothing other than that. But something in him told him to focus, to focus really hard, as there was something up there that even attracted the eyes of the Dragon Emperor. A few moments later, Lucius finally noticed small but real cracks, as if the open white skies of their realm were splitting apart—cracks forming like the surface of glass endures. Hard to spot, but once you do, you can no longer unsee them.

"Do you see that?" Zero Dawn questioned, as his eyes never left the cracks that were rapidly multiplying and expanding.

"I do," Lucius replied, his eye was trying to keep up with them as well, but was failing him, as it simply wasn't fast enough to track them all, unlike Zero Dawn.

"Since this is your world, your dreamland inside a realm you've unconsciously conjured, it won't last forever. Plus, my existence inside this realm of yours makes it difficult to maintain and sustain, especially since, at the end of the day, you're dying in the real world, the same world I've been restricted from." Zero Dawn explained, as he again relaxed back on her chair, which had now turned itself into an actual throne—the throne of Verdun from the past.

"Guess this is it then... You're dying, and pretty soon that's gonna change to, 'You're dead,' for real this time." Zero Dawn informed, as he looked for some reaction he's yet to get from Lucius, who was still looking around, observing the crashdown, the breakdown of the realm by his own very eye—fueling his dread every passing moment—as Zero Dawn's voice echoed inside his mind.

"Any last words?" Zero Dawn pushed calmly, as he also seemed prepared for the imminent farewell. Lucius, now eye straight on Zero Dawn, full of tears on the verge of breaking, yet full of brimming hope, resolve, and newfound confidence, answered, "I really want to live."