Alaric wasn't surprised, casually strolling deeper into the structure that had entombed three War pathway angels and birthed a Blood Emperor.
As described in the original story, the architecture screamed Fourth Epoch style... chaotic, irregular, and asymmetrical, with a stark black aesthetic and wall patterns resembling jagged slashes.
"Honestly, anyone with OCD would lose it over the Black Emperor pathway's taste. No wonder Trunsoest teamed up with Tudor to rebel against Solomon... probably couldn't stand this aesthetic and jumped to the Arbiter pathway." Alaric quipped, chuckling at a classic Fourth Epoch joke as he pressed forward, soon reaching the chamber housing the six gods' statues.
His gaze swept over the statues, memorizing their features for future dealings with the deities, before moving deeper.
He arrived at the final room. As a temporary Ferryman, he could clearly sense the powerful evil spirit beyond the door.
"But in terms of strength, it's probably no match for me right now…" Alaric assessed, stepping into the room without hesitation.
"A little pup from the Aurora Order?"
A brash, provocative voice, laced with a hint of wariness, echoed through the cavernous room. Alaric followed the sound and saw a figure lounging on a high-backed chair.
Clad in blood-stained black armor, with fiery red hair and a youthful, handsome face marred by decayed patches on both cheeks, the figure's blood-red eyes regarded Alaric with casual scrutiny.
If Alaric didn't know how tragic Medici's fate had been, the Red Angel's imposing presence might have been intimidating.
"I sense a familiar aura... reminds me of Salinger." Medici said, as the decayed patch on his left cheek split open to speak.
"Idiot, Salinger's long dead. This must be one of his descendants." The right cheek's decay countered, mirroring the left.
"That's what I meant, moron!"
"Whoever chimes in is the moron!"
The two voices bickered, shattering Medici's carefully crafted aura, turning the scene from an intense standoff to a comedy routine.
Medici's face darkened, and he hissed, "Shut up!"
But Sauron and Einhorn ignored him, hurling insults his way. Unable to take it, Medici fired back with biting sarcasm, and the three descended into a full-blown squabble.
Alaric watched the farce with amusement. When they finally paused, he offered earnestly, "Mr. Sauron Einhorn Medici, have you considered going professional?"
"Huh?" Even Medici was caught off guard by Alaric's words.
"I'm serious." Alaric continued sincerely. "You've got a real knack for comedy. With your looks and talent, you'd be a hit as entertainers."
Though unfamiliar with the term "comedy duo." Medici grasped Alaric's meaning and saw no mockery in his tone... only genuine enthusiasm. He fell silent for a moment before saying, "You've got a real talent for provocation. Ever thought about becoming a Hunter?"
"And end up cooked in a hot pot like you?" Alaric replied earnestly, then paused as if recalling something. "Oh, hot pot's a dish, often red, sometimes with three distinct flavors in one pot."
"..."
"..."
"..."
"I'm starting to like you, kid. You've definitely got Hunter potential." Medici said through gritted teeth, only to see Alaric flash a sheepish smile.
"Thanks." Alaric said, pulling a crystal monocle from his pocket and placing it over his left eye. "I like myself too."
Medici's expression froze, his gaze sharpening. If his earlier demeanor had been a mix of wariness and nonchalance... feigning being rattled while staying composed... the monocle made the War Angel take him seriously.
But then Medici seemed to notice something, relaxing slightly. Leaning back, his blood-red eyes locked onto Alaric's, a smirk tugging at his lips. "So, you've crossed paths with the little raven."
"Strictly speaking, I just gave Amon a taste of long-lost paternal love." Alaric corrected, pulling an iron box from his pocket. Opening it, he revealed the Worms of Time inside. "As thanks, They gifted me these."
Medici didn't buy Alaric's story, but as someone who'd raised Amon, he recognized the Worms of Time as authentically Amon's. And in this world, someone claiming to be Amon's "father" And capable of handling Them…
Medici narrowed his eyes. "Did the Lord send you?"
The "Lord" was, of course, the True Creator.
"The True Creator likely doesn't know you're here." Alaric said, shaking his head with a smile. "Mr. Medici, I'm here to fulfill a deal with the True Creator. Mentioning your existence is just a bonus."
"A bonus?" Medici's blood-red eyes glinted with danger, his malevolent evil spirit aura chilling the air.
"Yes, a bonus." Alaric said, unfazed, flashing a smile. "I'm an honest merchant. I like to throw in extras when sealing a deal."
His provocations were deliberate. Unlike with Klein or Azik, showing weakness to Medici was pointless. A top-tier Hunter wouldn't spare a glance for the meek.
To earn Medici's genuine regard as a friend, the first step wasn't flattery... it was proving he was no docile lamb.
Only then would he catch the Red Angel's eye.
***
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