“Capricorn...” Klein repeated the name, as if tasting it on his tongue.
Should he call it nostalgic? Although he had long suspected it, hearing the entity admit it personally still left Klein with... complicated feelings.
Capricorn's voice rang out again, much gentler this time, as if proactively extending an olive branch. “We discarded our past names, for they represented chaos and disorder.”
“We?” Klein keenly caught the keyword.
His mind raced, analyzing the information hidden within those words.
“Yes, we.” Capricorn's phantom wavered in the sea breeze like a wisp of smoke that could vanish at any moment. “Within that vast aggregate of consciousness, not every fragment craved devouring and destruction. Some, like me, birthed a sense of ‘self’ amidst the endless chaos. What we seek is ‘existence,’ not ‘unification.’”
Klein understood immediately.
The evil god had long been divided from within.
One part was the chaotic aggregate he had faced before, knowing only how to devour and pollute—a pure calamity. The other part was this faction before him, claiming to be “lawful.”
“So, you chose to break away?” Klein continued to probe, speaking slowly to mask his exhaustion and to exert pressure on the entity.
“It was not a choice,” Capricorn corrected. “It was your power that forcibly peeled us away. That ‘Anti-Chaos’ spell of yours was both a devastating blow and a... filtration. It destroyed the pure chaos but allowed those of us with the embryonic form of ‘order’ to survive.”
Klein's heart sank.
So that was it.
His reckless plan to fight poison with poison, built on the edge of destruction, had inadvertently acted as a purifier.
He had filtered out a group of beings that were more troublesome and far more intelligent.
What was this? A good deed gone wrong? No, it wasn't a “good deed.” But it was certainly a massive headache.
“It sounds like I've done you a huge favor.” Klein curled his lips into a cold smile, his tone betraying no emotion.
“You could say that,” Capricorn admitted without hesitation. “In return, I can answer a few questions. Furthermore, I guarantee that we harbor no hostility toward this world... or at least, toward you humans.”
“A guarantee?” Ophelia snorted, her clear voice sharp as a blade. She didn't let go of Klein's arm, but her other hand rested on her sword's hilt. “An evil god's guarantee is as untrustworthy as a devil's contract.”
Capricorn's goat head turned toward Ophelia.
Within those eerie, pupil-less horizontal slit pupils, a flicker of... wariness seemed to pass.
“My lady, the power within you shares the same source as your master's. I can feel that it is enough to erase me completely.” Its voice was calm, as if merely stating a fact. “Therefore, I have no reason to deceive you. Deception implies hostility. And hostility implies death. We... do not wish to die.”
It spoke with a frankness that bordered on humble.
Klein signaled Ophelia to remain calm.
He didn't trust the guarantee, but he trusted its will to survive. An existence that had just escaped destruction would desire nothing more than to live.
“Fine. First question.” Klein stopped beating around the bush, his gaze locked onto the entity. “Why Aphros? Out of everyone in the fleet, why did you choose her?”
This was a critical question.
If the choice was random, it would be easier to handle. But if it was intentional, then Aphros's uniqueness was worth investigating.
“Because she is ‘clean,’” Capricorn replied.
“Clean?” Klein frowned.
“Yes. Though she was born from the will of the deep sea, she is like a blank slate. Her soul has not been overly tainted by the rules of this world; she has no complex desires, no deep-seated prejudices.” Capricorn's phantom explained, “To us, she is a perfect ‘vessel’ that will not produce a strong rejection response.”
The explanation was reasonable.
Aphros's mind was indeed as simple as an infant's.
But Klein felt it wasn't that simple.
“Just for that?” he pressed.
Capricorn fell silent for a moment.
The semi-transparent phantom swayed in the sea breeze, looking as if it might dissipate.
On the ground, Aphros let out a stifled sob. She couldn't understand the complex dialogue, but she could sense that the terrifying monster and Mr. Klein were discussing her. She hugged her knees tightly, burying her head deeper, afraid to see if the monster's silhouette was appearing on her own body.
“...Not entirely,” Capricorn finally spoke again. “A more important reason is her ‘origin.’”
Here it was.
Klein's spirit rallied, forcing down the needle-like pain in his mind.
This was the point.
“Like us, she is a creation of the will of the deep sea. But she... is more special.” Capricorn's voice carried a hint of confusion that even it couldn't understand. “She was not created by that chaotic aggregate of will, but rather originated from... one of us.”
“One of you?” Ophelia couldn't help but speak up.
“Yes. An independent individual with a powerful will of its own.”
Klein's heart skipped a beat.
An independent evil god capable of creating life?
“That being... who is it?” Klein asked, his voice dry.
“We do not know its name.” Capricorn's answer disappointed Klein. “Within the will of the deep sea, we do not distinguish each other by names, but through ‘concepts.’ We can only perceive part of its essence through a concept.”
“What essence?”
“The Dragon.”
Capricorn uttered the word.
Klein instinctively glanced at the silver dragon resting on the nearby beach.
The dragon, which had lived for thousands of years, seemed to sense something. It pawed the ground uneasily and let out a low snort, its golden vertical slit pupils full of wariness.
Could it be...
“Exactly as you think,” Capricorn said, as if seeing through Klein's thoughts. “This ‘Dragon’ is not that ‘dragon.’ You have already met.”
“So, Aphros is its creation?” Klein tried to organize his chaotic thoughts.
“You could say that. She is the ‘orphan’ left behind by that being.” Capricorn explained, “Because of that, her soul structure has a natural affinity with fragments of the same origin, like us. That is why we chose her.”
Klein looked at Aphros, who was curled into a ball and trembling, his heart filled with complicated emotions.
“Last question.” Klein's voice was hoarse. The exhaustion from overextending his mental energy hit him in waves, making him feel as if he might collapse at any moment. “That ‘Dragon’—where is it now?”
If he could find this “lawful” evil god, he might solve the problem at its root.
He might even uncover more secrets about the will of the deep sea.
It was a massive opportunity.
However, Capricorn's answer doused that spark of hope with ice-cold seawater.
“I do not know.”
Capricorn's phantom stabilized, its horizontal slit pupils staring at the distant horizon as if reminiscing.
“It vanished.”
“We... tried to find it.”
“But it is gone without a trace, as if it had never existed.”
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