'I wonder why Jake Williams manipulated my actions to get into the Gateway to Hell under Fredero Tangen's warehouse..'

Seth thought, turning the question over in his mind.

'Was he trying to uncover evidence to use against Fredero? Or was there something inside that was beneficial for him personally?'

He looked at Phoebe, who was waiting quietly.

He had a few more questions that he needed answers to...

"I want to ask you something," Seth said, his voice flat.

"Ask away."

Phoebe replied, her own tone resigned.

"You planned for my resurrection, didn't you?"

Phoebe was silent for a long moment.

Then, she gave a single, slow nod.

"Yes."

"I want to know everything."

Seth stated, his tone indicating that it wasn't a request.

"Consider it my payment for helping you this far. And compensation for you playing with my life."

"I apologize..." Phoebe whispered, her eyes dropping.

Seth was silent for a beat before responding, his words cold.

"I do not forgive you. And I don't think the man I used to be would either."

Phoebe bit her lip, the guilt brought upon by his words pressing down on her.

She knew what she had done was unforgivable.

"I... I often talk to the woman in my dreams," she began, her voice trembling slightly.

"The progenitor who led me to the path of becoming a witch of the Sin of Revenge."

"She's elegant, beautiful, and charming in a terrifying way. But she's also murderous and overwhelmingly strong. Her voice feels like silk wrapped around a blade..."

Phoebe took a shaky breath.

"She told me that if I followed her instructions perfectly, a 'great existence' would emerge from your coffin. She said this existence would make my goal of revenge easier to achieve. She made it sound like a gift to me..."

Seth processed this.

'So the great existence manipulating her fate is her. The Progenitor of the Sin of Revenge.'

He thought, reaching a conclusion.

"Was it also her who gave you that ancient tombstone? The one with my name already on it?"

Seth pressed.

Phoebe shook her head.

"No. That came from another person. A witch friend I told you about before, the one who went to school in another municipality. His name was Cedric."

Seth's focus sharpened.

"Cedric Laibac?"

Phoebe's eyes widened slightly.

"You know him?"

'He's also the one who stole the demonic artifact that gave problems to the original Seth's mind.'

Seth thought, but he didn't voice it.

He didn't answer her question.

Instead, he continued his line of inquiry.

"Do you have any idea why you are the one being chosen and manipulated like this? Out of everyone, why you?"

Phoebe shook her head, a look of genuine confusion and frustration crossing her face.

"I originally thought I was just one pawn among many. But the more I learn, the more I realize I'm at the very center of it all."

She sighed.

"So, aside from the fact that I harbor deep thoughts of revenge, which naturally aligns with the Sin the dream-woman offered me, I don't have a clue. I'm just following the path laid out for me."

Seth watched her.

'She's not lying. She's great at following instructions, which fits everything I've seen. But she's not good at figuring out the grand design herself nor is she capable enough to be able to know deep knowledge regarding resurrection...'

"Have you heard of the prophecy?"

Phoebe asked suddenly, changing the subject.

Seth nodded.

He recited the lines Miss Brown had given him.

"'A pillar of the old world will crumble into the earth. This city will become a pit. Rot will bloom in its heart. And from the deepest love, the greatest despair shall be born.'"

Phoebe nodded, her expression grim.

"The 'pillar' is the Coven of Abomination. The 'city' is Matamisan. The 'rot' is the corruption from the Sin of Filth they're spreading. But I don't know what 'the deepest love' and 'the greatest despair' refer to. In fact, no one does."

Seth considered this.

"Hm. You want to assume that your role in this is 'the deepest love,' which then leads to 'the greatest despair'?"

"Originally, I thought so," Phoebe admitted.

"But my drive for revenge isn't pure love for my father."

"It's also anger, and hatred, and a desire for my own satisfaction. I wouldn't call that the 'deepest' love."

Seth immediately agreed with her reasoning.

It was too selfish and too messy to fit the prophecy's poetic words.

"Then, following that logic..."

Seth said, thinking aloud.

"The 'deepest love' most likely has something to do with the lady behind you. Her motives, or her connection to something—or someone—else..."

Phoebe nodded slowly.

It was the only thing that made sense.

The scale of the prophecy demanded a power on the level of a Progenitor's emotions or designs.

With that heavy topic settled, their discussion reached its end.

A thick, tired silence filled the space between them in the dim living room.

Seth did not speak.

Phoebe did not speak either.

The silence between them was heavy.

Finally, Phoebe turned her eyes to him.

"Thank you," she said, her voice soft.

"For what?"

Seth asked, his tone flat.

"For everything you've done," she replied.

"Aside from my father, you're the only one who's been so forgiving of me, despite all my flaws."

Seth tilted his head slightly.

"What makes you say that?"

"I told you before," Phoebe said, a faint, sad smile touching her lips.

"I can sense when people have thoughts of harm or revenge against me. But even after I confessed everything—how I used you for my goals, how I helped cause your death—"

"You don't harbor a single thought of animosity toward me."

Seth fell silent for a moment.

Then, he shook his head.

"You're wrong."

He looked at her directly.

"I don't lack animosity," Seth continued calmly.

"I simply don't direct it at you. Your actions, and everything that led to them, were shaped by forces beyond your control. Existences we can't even begin to understand."

He paused, choosing his words carefully.

"To people like us, their interference is no different from a god's will. If I were to hate you for that, it would be pointless."

Phoebe's fingers tightened slightly.

"My anger exists," Seth said.

"But it's aimed at the great existences that treat lives like pieces on a board. They move us, test us, and discard us when we no longer serve a purpose."

His eyes darkened.

"One day, I will climb to where they are. I will learn their rules, gain their power, and then I will flip their board over. I will make them regret ever thinking they could move me like a piece."

Phoebe listened, then shook her head gently.

"Even so," she said.

"That doesn't make you cruel. It just means you know where your anger truly belongs."

She hesitated before continuing.

"Maybe… if everything settles down someday, you could live a normal life... Somewhere quiet with a wife, children. A place where no one knows who you really are. I can make sure your original identity never gets exposed."

Seth simply smiled, but it wasn't a warm expression.

"You're wrong about that, too."

"Why?" Phoebe asked, confused.

"I know places that don't ask for strict identification. I could—"

Seth cut her off.

"It's not about hiding, it's in regards to settling."

"As long as I am who I am, I doubt there is a kind of love out there meant for me."

He paused, his gaze turning inward.

"I have manipulated everyone who has fallen in love with me to fall in love with me."

"That either makes me a talented liar... or a very unlovable human being."

Phoebe didn't argue. She knew better than to offer shallow comfort.

The moment stretched.

Then—

BANG.

The front door burst open.

The front door burst open with a violent crash.

A man with unruly black hair stood in the doorway, wearing the dark, formal robes of the Coven of Solace.

Behind him were several others, all dressed the same, their expressions stern and official.

Phoebe looked at them, then glanced briefly to the spot where Seth had been sitting.

He was gone...

The lead man stepped forward, his voice letting out a sense of authority.

"Phoebe Tangen, you are under the suspicion of being a stray witch, unbounded by any coven, possessing a demonstrated lack of morality and a strong sense of malice."

"You are hereby detained for questioning. Please do not resist."

Phoebe didn't argue.

She didn't look at the witches.

Instead, her eyes drifted to the small piece of paper on her side table—the note Seth had left a day ago.

"When the strong design the world, the only freedom left for the weak is the shape of their compliance."

[End of Volume 1]

[Fate of the Weak]

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