Aetherion was an Empire that could never be saved. Someone like Vanitas, with memories of different progressions, playthroughs, or whatever could still be called real, understood this as an indistinguishable fact.
He was a man who had never reached the true ending as a player, so what else would happen if that same person found himself in that reality?
The answer was natural. It would be the same, regardless of the circumstances he found himself in.
It was not because he lacked competence. It was simply because the narrative had been written this way from the start. Perhaps it was fate. Perhaps it was impossible unless someone rewrote the course of history that had driven Aetherion to this point.
But one thing was certain.
Aetherion's destruction was not an ending to be avoided. It was a necessary juxtaposition that would condition it toward a better future.
In simpler terms, it was a means to an end.
"Emperor… No, Franz," Vanitas began. "Will you stake everything on me?"
