Everything was a haze for Alisson. A blur of meaninglessness. Celis had been whisked away as soon as the transport landed in one of the hangars of AB-0.

  “You will be granted an audience with our Seraph.” A ranking Angel talked down to him. “Please endeavor to present yourself in a more cleanly attire worthy of her gaze.”

  The whole process laid out before him. With lifeless movements, he cleaned his body in the same bath he had done so on his prior visit.

  The shower was filled with the steam of hot water, so when she arrived, Alisson couldn’t tell what had happened for a moment. With a pulsing white, a sphere had appeared before him. Alisson frowned, averting his gaze.

  “Can’t wait to speak with a disgrace like me?” He muttered.

  The sphere didn’t respond for a long moment. “Formalities aren’t necessary in the condition you’re in, Alisson. This much, I can tell.” The sphere pulsed whitely with Michaela’s words.

  “I didn’t come here to wallow in my own woe in a shower.” Alisson spat, turning away from the sphere.

  “You say that like you know why you came here.”

  “I came at your behest. To continue our alliance, to ensure that my mission to destroy Irine can be fulfilled.”

  Alisson growled angrily, and turned the faucet of the shower to a close, halting the stream of water.

  “Alisson.” He felt a hand on his shoulder and froze. “That’s not why I wanted you to come here. The fate of Irine, of wars far away and conspiracy far from enacted, that has nothing to do with why you’re here.”

  “Then why…” Alisson tensed his body, gritting his teeth. “To experiment on Celis at my expense? To scold me for my sins!? I know what I’ve done!” He turned around to face Micaela, “No amount of buttered words or religious fervor will change how I need to act – How a General needs to act!”

  Michaela only gave him a bittersweet smile. “You’re hurting, Alisson.”

  Alisson turned away, resolving to leave the shower. “Such is the plight of men.” He clenched his fists.

  “Alisson. We’re allies. But more than that, we are good people. So accept our help.”

  “And what exactly would that entail? Singing and reading verses until the world becomes a better place? Pretending like I didn’t shed the blood of thousands!?” Alisson bit his lip. “I’ve endeavored on this path. I can’t turn back now.”

  “You won’t be able to undo what you have done, or absolve yourself of sin.”

  “I know that!” Alisson snapped back.

  “…You must carry the souls that you have taken with you. You owe it to them.”

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  Alisson’s eyes twitched. “What do you mean? That’s what I intend to do! By continuing forward!”

  “Yes, Alisson, you’ll continue forward. Always forward. But it is still your will to choose how you continue; for Sidonia, or for justice.”

  “But what is justice?” Alisson looked down into the ground. “Just an irrational classification of what one deems as right and wrong.”

  “Consider this, Alisson. You are a General in a battle. Why do you fight? To win? Why do you want to win? To better your nation and people? Why do you want to better them? To expand their bloodlines and pass on your own blood with better lives and with better success? Why? To feel better about yourself? Rational action can always be traced to irrational goals. There is no ultimate rational goal of life, thus, rationality serves irrationality. To live is to be irrational, and thus, one should not be afraid of the irrational.”

  Alisson frowned bitterly. He could hear Michaela sigh behind him.

  “You need a warm embrace, Alisson. You need Celis. Look what has become of you without her.”

  Alisson’s eyes widened, before he broke out into an angry scowl. “Don’t talk like you know me! I’ve always been like this! For two and half centuries – A coldhearted murderer! All Celis has done…All she has done…has…”

  Tears suddenly welled at his eyes, and his knees felt weak. He fell to the shower floor, desperately restraining himself from crying while the Seraph was right behind him.

  “I think she can attest that you are not who you think you are. Regardless, Alisson. Let’s settle business while I have made the decision to grace this bathroom with my presence. Your cross, where is it?”

  Alisson wiped his face, and pointed to a bench nearby with his clothes haphazardly strewn across it, on top of which was his hairclip, and the cross pendant. He heard Michaela pick it up after floating over to it.

  “My my. You haven’t been praying recently, have you?”

  Alisson didn’t respond, and instead continued to avert his gaze.

  “Regardless of you lack of words, this cross bears no lack of souls. You have collected many.” She put the cross down. “You will undergo a merciful process to free you of guilt. And God willing, the procedure to liberate Celis will work as intended. Either way…Do not plan on showing justice to the lives you have taken by spilling even more blood. Show them justice by proving that their lives were not taken in vain – Rather as a stone upon the road that you walk toward the ultimate end of evil in this world. Understand?”

  Alisson didn’t respond.

  “Sleep on it. We’ll speak after you have undergone your spiritual repair. Pray not worry, my chaplains are the very best. They won’t go easy on you.”

  With that, she was gone. Alisson was left to stair into the droplets of moisture that had been left clinging to walls of the shower.

  Having so informally met with the Seraph, Alisson was whisked away to the cloister. Chaplains attended to him, restraining him tightly. He was made to disrobe and was left only in his trousers.

  Several angels watched on, floating anxiously away from the podium that Alisson was tied to.

  “It seems you have drawn quite a crowd.” A chaplain commented. “Let their gazes burn you with humiliation as much as this whip does pain.”

  “If they have come to hear me beg, then they will be disappointed.” Alisson spat, still defiant.

  No sin was to go unpunished. An unpunished vice was one that festered a kind of guilt that would inevitably grow to crush a man under its weight.

  Alisson realized then why Michaela had called it merciful. With the first lash that struck his back, came both the searing pain of the strike of a whip; but also, the freeing sensation, of punishment.

  It seemed to never end. Alisson was given a gag to bite down on, but he had long since dropped it by the end of the session. He could feel blood running down his back and his legs, welling at his feet. His back had at first been aflame with pain, but now it was numb, and the pain had somehow transferred to the rest of his body as adrenaline and blood coursed through his veins. The sensation was still a freeing one, like in some sense, this pain and numbness of physical sensation lifted him up, cleared his mind, and brought him back to reality.

  With that final thought, Alisson succumbed to the pain, and passed out.

  ***