Scott gazed at his reflection without blinking. Billowing clouds of blackened smog—woven from the essence of nihility—constantly veiled his form. Within the unfathomable darkness, hundreds of millions, if not billions, of all-seeing eyes surged and blinked in unison.

  He raised a hand, tracing the contours of his face. The smog parted slowly, reluctantly, revealing the human-like figure he still identified with. Yet, his facial features felt foreign—familiar in structure, but eerily altered. His hair, darker than the void, no longer curled as he remembered. His once-present stubble had vanished, eroded by sharp, inhuman precision. Most striking of all, both eyes had transformed into all-seeing eyes—piercing, endless, divine.

  The parted smog writhed at the edges, the countless eyes within shifting restlessly, glancing between Scott and the world beyond.

  No wonder they begged not to be destroyed. So this is what they see… a visual representation of my nature.

  Scott nodded slowly, fingers tapping against the polished table once more. His gaze flicked briefly toward the old man before returning to the reflective surface.

  Is it possible for me to change how they perceive me?

  Still staring into the mirror, he willed the smog to compress—attempting to force it into a more grounded form. Nothing happened. The eyes buried within the haze twitched and shimmered, as if laughing at his effort.

  So… I can’t.

  He let the thought dissolve. But the blacksmith did it. He controlled how he was perceived. So there must be a way… or maybe I’m not strong enough yet. Or worse… not qualified.

  The table’s surface echoed softly under his rhythmic tapping. His thoughts churned, spiraling deeper into uncertainty, until finally, he placed the plate down and looked up.

  “Thank you for this,” he said.

  “No problem at all,” the old man replied with a warm smile. Leaning forward slightly, he added, “Sadly, you’ll be hard-pressed to find anyone who can remain composed in your presence.”

  Scott nodded, his gaze drifting for a moment before returning.

  “So, what are your other questions?” the old man asked.

  Scott focused again. “When you were separated from your physical shell… I saw multiple egos emerging from the shattered weapon all at once. Does…”

  He paused. The old man chuckled softly, interrupting his words.

  “Pardon my rudeness,” he said, still grinning. “You saw what your mind was capable of interpreting at the time. If it happened again, I suspect it’d look very different to you now.”

  Scott gave a slow nod. So I was kind of right.

  “What happened to the ego of the Chain of the Abyss?” he asked next.

  For the first time, the old man’s expression darkened.

  “That unruly brat?” he snorted. “It’s been ages since I last saw him. Probably out there causing mayhem. Do you want me to summon him?”

  “Is that possible?”

  “Definitely,” the old man replied with a nod. “The only issue is he moves at his own pace. So, who knows how long it’ll take him to show up.”

  Scott chuckled under his breath. I really didn’t know anything about my weapons. I never expected their personalities to be this… unique.

  “We have time. Go ahead and summon him.”

  The old man made a series of complex hand signs, mumbling unintelligible syllables under his breath. A moment later, a beam of light shot from his fingertips and vanished into the clouds above.

  “Let’s hope that little troublemaker hurries up when he gets it,” the old man muttered with a sigh.

  Scott leaned forward. “Can you tell me why I have an affinity with some egos… but nothing with others?”

  The question lingered in the air, settling into the silence between them.

  The old man met his gaze. “To be honest, it’s something I haven’t put a lot of thought into,” he admitted. His voice was calm, but deliberate. “There are laws at play here that neither of us can fully grasp. Maybe apart from that being, there’s no one who can really explain it.”

  He paused, allowing the weight of that truth to sink in.

  “Still,” he continued, “I do have a theory. I believe the nature of an ego—and the nature of its wielder—must align to some degree for affinity to occur. But even then, the depth of that affinity can vary wildly. Just because there is an affinity doesn’t mean the two are suited for each other.”

  Scott’s brow furrowed slightly.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  He thought back to the sobbing child… and the terrified woman. Both had shown affinity. Both had begged not to be destroyed.

  With the state of my nature… will anyone truly be able to work with me?

  He had no answer.

  Amidst the silence, the old man’s words resurfaced. “Take your case for example. Most of those kids are too scared to even look at you, let alone submit. Even if you force them, they’d rather erode their existence and wait to be reborn. To be honest, I can’t say I blame them.”

  He leaned forward slightly, his tone dipping. “In your hands, they would simply be destroyed.”

  Scott sighed, a rueful shake of the head accompanying his silence.

  “Then why is it that neither of us have affinity for the other?” he asked. “Your nature begets madness, and so does mine. Yet the laws of this place deem us unfit for one another. Why?”

  The old man burst out laughing. “Your mistake is thinking that just because we both walk the path of madness, we’d naturally resonate,” he said, the mirth still lingering in his tone. “Do you even know what my nature truly is?”

  Scott didn’t respond. His brows furrowed as realization crept in.

  He’s right. Madness isn’t singular. Just because we’re aligned in name doesn’t mean we’re aligned in essence. I doubt any member of the other Orders shares a nature exactly like mine.

  His thoughts drifted to the first time he encountered the War Hammer of the Mad God.

  Now that I think about it… the system only said it was created by a madman driven insane by the voices in his head. Was it the actual weapon of the previous Mad God, or just an imitation?

  And what of the Chains of the Abyss? Though they had merged with his nihilistic zone, Scott couldn’t say with certainty if he had affinity with its ego. Even if he did, there was no telling whether the ego would want to continue with him.

  “I can’t say I understand your nature,” Scott finally admitted.

  The old man giggled softly. “That’s expected. It would be far more surprising if you did.”

  Scott leaned in. “So, are there any egos you think might have some affinity with me?”

  This time, the old man fell silent. His fingers resumed their ceaseless drumming against the table, and though his lips moved slightly, no sound escaped them.

  Scott watched him intently, anticipation growing with every passing second.

  “To be honest,” the old man finally said, lifting his gaze, “I’ve met quite a few interesting characters over the years. If we eliminate those younger than me—since they wouldn’t be able to handle your nature—and those whose personalities clash with yours…”

  He paused, his head tilting from side to side as if weighing invisible scales. “I can think of three potential candidates.”

  Scott’s brow arched. “There’s a catch, isn’t there? I feel a ‘but’ coming.”

  The old man gave a wry smile. “You’re right. Their personalities are… beyond eccentric. They could prove quite difficult.”

  Scott frowned. “How difficult are we talking?”

  “It’s rare that I meet beings older than myself. Yet these three make my years seem like a cosmic blink,” the old man said, his voice tinged with awe and weariness. “I would be lying if I claimed to understand how their minds work. They might reject you on a whim—or curse you just for the way you look. Or worse… ignore you altogether. Do you still want to meet them?”

  “Of course,” Scott said without hesitation. “There’s nothing to lose.”

  The old man didn’t respond, but his smile deepened.

  After a beat of silence, Scott spoke again. “So… how does this partnership actually work?”

  He recalled his experience with the Chains of the Abyss. Its voice had been absent. The War Hammer rarely spoke. Was that because of a lack of affinity? Or something else?

  Could it be that their personalities just didn’t mesh with mine? he wondered. The thought of a talkative ego constantly whispering in my head doesn’t exactly excite me.

  The old man burst into laughter once again, leaning back in his seat. “I can already tell what you’re thinking,” he said, grinning broadly. “You hate being pestered. I wouldn’t be surprised if you threw your next weapon into that abominable zone just to shut them up.”

  Scott gave a wry smile. He didn’t deny it.

  Once the old man recovered, he continued more seriously. “But to answer your question—it depends. The partnership is based on the agreement you both come to. As long as you uphold your end, the ego will give you everything. Power, loyalty, insight. But if you break that agreement…” His tone dropped, eyes narrowing. “They can harm you, your weapon, and even those around you. I would sincerely advise against that.”

  Scott nodded quietly.

  “You won’t need to worry about being bothered if you strike a deal with any of those eccentric egos,” the old man said with a small smile. “I doubt they’ll speak to you, even if they acknowledge you.”

  “That’s nice to know,” Scott replied, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Let’s go meet them.”

  “Oh?” The old man blinked, surprised. “I thought you’d have more questions.”

  “That can wait,” Scott said softly. “It’s not like I’m going anywhere anytime soon.”

  The old man laughed heartily as he rose to his feet. “You’re right. There’s enough time to—”

  He suddenly stopped.

  His features tensed as his gaze jerked eastward.

  What’s gotten into him? Scott followed the man’s line of sight, but all he saw was an endless stretch of green.

  Just as Scott opened his mouth to speak, a loud, adolescent voice thundered across the landscape.

  “Old man! Didn’t I tell you I want nothing to do with you anymore? How dare you interrupt my sleep!”

  Scott glanced at the old man—who was already staring at him.

  “That him?” Scott asked.

  The old man nodded with a weary sigh. “Sadly, yes.”

  The voice came again, more abrasive this time. “You’re unusually quiet today. Still harboring delusions of becoming the next Mad God?”

  Scott’s gaze snapped toward the old man—and the ego froze in place.

  A tense silence fell between them. Heavy. Crackling.

  “Please don’t misunderstand,” the old man said at last, forcing a tight smile. “I have no ambition to compete with you in this era,” he added quickly.

  “Oh, I see.” Scott’s smile was thin. Too thin. “You do realize what’s going to happen once I cross the Point of No Return, right?”

  The old man nodded gravely. “I do.”

  “Then you still believe there will be an era of gods?”

  “I don’t know what calamity will befall the infinite timelines during the war,” the old man admitted, his voice unusually soft. “But I’m certain a new era will rise from the ashes. And given time... yes, the age of new gods will return—for those who survive. My era will eventually come. That, I believe.”

  Scott held his gaze for a long moment. Silent.

  “I wish you good luck,” he said at last.

  “Thank you,” the old man replied with a solemn nod.

  He parted his lips to speak again—but a teenage boy with sparkling blue hair suddenly materialized several feet above the ground. Clad in black robes that flickered like flames, he hovered lazily, yawning midair.

  “Old man, why aren’t you saying—”

  He froze.

  His gaze locked onto Scott, and in that instant, he realized he wasn’t alone. Countless eyes—infinite eyes—were staring at him.

  “Th-those eyes. You’re him…” he stammered, trembling in midair. He couldn’t move.

  “Oh, you recognize me?” Scott said, smiling. “That makes things much easier.”

  Scott’s eyes gleamed as they settled on the blackened gold haze cloaking the trembling boy’s form.

  “Please… I don’t want to go back. Please!”