He swallowed and tried again, choosing his words like stones in a riverbed. "Can I ask you a favor?"

There was curiosity, faint and direct, that sparkled for the first time when she turned her gaze to him fully. "I'm curious. What is it?"

Razeal's voice was calm, almost too calm for the storm beneath it. "Can you teach me how to live a life for myself not because of the situation I'm in?" He asked without hesitation, words steady though the intent behind them trembled with uncertainty.

Zara's reaction was not what he expected. She leaned back in her throne-like chair and laughed a restrained, amused sound, all queenly manners and soft mockery folded into one. It wasn't a cruel laugh; it was the kind that belonged to someone who had heard the same question many times and found it quietly entertaining. Razeal watched her, unreadable. She watched him back for a long, cool second and then, without breaking eye contact, spoke.

"No. I can't." Her voice was flat but chill. "That is something you have to find for yourself." Her laugh died to a small smirk, the kind that accepts the futility of tidy answers. "Find a purpose you want to live for. No matter how small. No matter how big. No matter how cruel it is to others or how painful it is to you. Live it. Do what you want without holding back. So that when you ask yourself at night, before sleep 'Would you be happy if you died right now?' you can always answer: yes. That is what living should mean."

Razeal nodded. He kept his face composed the same plain mask he wore most of the time but he swallowed the words and let them sink in. He did not only file Zara's counsel away in his mind; something about the way she said it planted itself in his chest. He had always taken lessons into his head; this time, somehow, he let them into his heart.

Zara leaned forward a fraction, the faintest motion someone else might not have noticed. "And one more thing," she added, voice firmer. "Show your emotions as they are. Hiding everything behind a cold, expressionless face is a weakness. That mask doesn't protect you it imprisons you. If you're happy, show it. If you're not, show that, too. A truly strong person has the freedom to display everything without fear of being manipulated by others. Don't fear your feelings. Let them show."

The words landed differently than any counsel he'd been given before. For Razeal, emotion had always meant vulnerability a lever someone could pry. To show feelings openly felt like handing an enemy the map to his softest parts. Yet as Zara spoke, he felt each line tracing a new shape inside him fragile, but real. He remembered the rare, quick smiles he'd shared in forgotten corners of his life, the small moments he'd never allowed himself to keep. The idea of letting that loose made his jaw clench and his throat go dry.

He paused, the pause heavy with things he had long refused to admit. "I understand," he said finally, after a long, slow breath. A small, genuine smile rusty from disuse but honest tugged at his lips. It was a small thing, almost ridiculous after the years he'd worn that blank mask, and yet it changed him more than any sword could.

Zara said nothing. She simply watched him. No praise, no softness. Her quiet appraisal was enough.

Time stretched. They sat like that, measured breathing against measured silence, the kind of quiet that collects meaning. Razeal let Zara's words settle the echo of purpose, the permission to be human. After an hour, two, he turned to her with a different weight in his eyes. The question he had been holding back surfaced, more urgent now that he'd opened himself to something like hope.

"So," he said, a wryness in his tone that tried to hide the hunger beneath, "will you teach me how to reattach or even control Obsidian Agony myself?" The request was brazen, the same bluntness that had carried him through countless fights. The smile on his face was shameless; he felt shameless. He had let something soft in, and that made him bold in a new, awkward way.

Zara's answer was immediate and predictable. "No." She rejected it without hesitation, as if the very idea required no debate. Razeal didn't flinch. His grin wavered but didn't break.

"How about a 'please'?" he tried, and the single syllable sounded foreign when it came from him, like a token from an earlier, softer self.

"You are impatient," Zara observed, almost indulgent. "You should not be. Let me teach you one last important thing I learned at the very end of my long life: if you want something today, the world is such a bitch that you probably won't get it today. And if you don't get it today, tomorrow you will often realize you didn't need it after all.. because something far greater was waiting for you." She held his gaze, the lesson quiet and crystalline. "Patience is a skill. Timing is a power. Desire without discipline is only chaos. The thing you want now might be a small thing. The thing that matters will arrive at the right time."

"So just wait," Zara's voice carried the weight of centuries, smooth and cold as still water. "Maybe something far better is waiting for you in the future… something greater than what you're impatient for now."

Her gaze sharpened, though her tone remained calm. "I'm not teaching you because I don't want to. But perhaps… you should do it by yourself. Try to learn it on your own. In doing so, you might even perfect my creation. Wouldn't that be better? Don't be impatient with life if it doesn't hand you what you want today. That is simply how it is. If you truly keep trying, you will gain it one day."

Razeal looked at her, silent at first. Then, unexpectedly, a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He didn't even know why it came, but it did a rare, fragile thing from him.

"I see… I'll try. And then I'll show you.. the perfection I give to your creation," Razeal said, shaking his head lightly. He didn't push her further. There was no use forcing her hand.

"Well, that's enough." Zara's words rang with finality. "You can leave now."

Before he could react, the chair beneath him vanished. A sudden rush of force, like a violent gust of wind, pushed upward. His body flew, unprepared, before he stabilized mid-air. His boots landed against the floor with a hard sound, two steps away from where he'd been sitting.

He glanced back at her, confused for a moment, but his face showed nothing. Not a word of complaint left his mouth. Zara's moods were unpredictable he'd known this since the beginning.

"That is fine," he said after a pause. "I'll go… but before I do, can I ask one last question?"

He stood tall now, facing her directly.

Zara turned her head lazily toward him, saying nothing. She remained seated on that small, conjured chair, her presence still looming over him as though the entire room bent around her.

Razeal didn't wait for her permission. His voice came sharp, carrying the weight of the confusion that had clung to him all along.

"Why did you help me? Why were you so kind to me today? I don't understand. You spoke of selfishness, of living only for yourself… so why be selfless, even to help me?"

He couldn't reconcile it. This was the same woman who had tortured him on their very first meeting. And now, this?

Zara tilted her head back, the faintest ghost of a smile brushing her lips before she dismissed it.

"Selfless?" She let the word linger, almost mocking it. "When was I? I only wanted to talk. And I did ..because I was just in the mood to. You looked a little lost, like I once was. So I spoke. That's all."

Her eyes locked onto him with a deadly calm.

"Remember this: true strength is doing whatever you want. I can be kind if I choose to be, just as I can be cruel if I wish it. There is no obligation in it. No debt. No reason. True strength gives you the freedom to be kind, if that's what you desire, without worrying about the world. I didn't help you because you deserved it. Nor because I expect anything in return. There is no motive. It was my choice. That's all. Selfishness, selflessness meaningless words. This is who I am. What I do depends on my mood."

Her voice fell like a stone into the silence, undeniable.

Then she rose gracefully, her small chair dissolving into nothing. Shaking her head at his question, she chuckled softly a sound half amused, half dismissive. She turned her back to him, walking slowly in the direction of her throne, her steps measured and certain.

Razeal didn't move. He stood rooted, her words settling into him like stones sinking into water. His eyes dropped briefly to the floor, his thoughts spiraling. Her words were layered, deeper than they appeared. True strength is the right to choose. He repeated them silently, burning them into memory.

But just as Zara had taken her first step forward, she paused. Slowly, she turned her head back toward him. Her dark eyes locked into his, unblinking.

"Also," she said, her tone carrying a strange weight. "Remember this. Search for everything… except love and death."

The air itself seemed to freeze as her words fell.

Razeal's head lifted, his eyes meeting hers directly. The silence between them stretched, thick and charged.

"Because they will find you when the time is right," Zara finished.

Her voice was low, almost prophetic.

For two full seconds, the chamber held its breath. Then Razeal nodded, slow and deliberate.

"I'll keep that in mind," he said. His voice was firm, though inside his chest something twisted.

Zara turned her body fully this time, ready to leave, when his voice suddenly rang out behind her.

"Hey!"

The sound made her stop. A faint frown creased her brow. Slowly, she turned her head back, her eyes narrowing slightly. Was this boy truly taking her so lightly, now that she'd been lenient with him?

But his next words weren't what she expected.

"You must've had an amazing mother," Razeal said, his voice steady, almost soft. "I wish… my mother was like you."

The words hung in the air like a blade caught mid-swing.

Zara's eyes flickered, the faintest crack in her composure. Her lashes lowered slightly, then lifted again. She stared at him, long and deep. His face carried no expression, but his eyes his eyes told the truth. He wasn't lying.

For the briefest moment, her chest tightened. Something old and buried stirred.

Her face, however, betrayed nothing. No smile, no frown, no flicker of emotion. Just silence.

"Alright, I'll be going now."

Razeal broke the silence himself, turning to leave. But halfway through the motion, he stopped, as though remembering something. He turned back to her.

"Hey… can you kill me?"

The question was so casual, it almost sounded absurd. His voice didn't waver. "You know I can't leave this space without dying so..."

The words were barely out of his mouth before it happened.

In less than a heartbeat, his body split cleanly into two halves. No warning. No motion from Zara. No killing intent. Just death, swift and absolute, as though reality itself had obeyed her will before he'd even finished speaking.

Razeal's body began dissolving into particles of light. Yet even as his form disintegrated, his eyes remained locked on her, wide with sudden realization.

She didn't have killing intent.

The skill he'd activated from the start Killing Intent Sensing.. had never shown even a flicker of red aura around her. Not once. He had first assumed it was because she hadn't intended to kill him, her mood being calm. But now? She had killed him instantly, without hesitation and still, no intent.

Just how? His fading mind reeled. Does that mean… she doesn't even feel anything when she kills? No hatred. No malice. Nothing. To her, my death means so little it doesn't even register as killing intent…?

The thought burned through him, sharp and bitter, before his consciousness collapsed and his body scattered into nothing.

The chamber was quiet again.

Zara stood still in the silence, staring at the place where Razeal had vanished. She did not move for a long time, her eyes fixed on the empty space he had left behind.

Then, slowly, she turned. A small, inexplicable smile curved onto her lips. She shook her head, a quiet chuckle escaping her.

"An amazing mother, huh…" she murmured, repeating his words under her breath. Her voice was soft, almost wistful. She shook her head again as she walked toward her throne, her steps calm, her smile faint but lingering.

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