Crunch...
The apple in Medici's hand was crushed in an instant. Even though he'd had an inkling of the conspiracy when Alaric mentioned the Primordial Demoness's fifth honorific name, he lost control in that moment, unable to restrain his strength.
It was understandable. Any normal person hearing such a shocking revelation would hardly fare better.
"What a waste!" Alaric remarked, eyeing the ruined apple with mild regret. After a moment's thought, he added, "You made the mess, so clean it up."
Medici… Medici felt a surge of frustration, caught between emotions. He shot Alaric a grudging glance, noting he was still calmly making coffee. With a snap of his fingers, flames flared up, incinerating the apple remnants completely without harming a single piece of furniture... a practiced move from a seasoned expert.
Alaric looked up, watching Medici obediently clean up, and smiled. "Pretty skilled at that… Looks like the Ancient Sun God trained you well."
"Hmph, who do you think took care of Amon back then?" Medici retorted, rolling his eyes. The interruption had calmed him down, and he could only grumble, "Lunatics!"
It wasn't clear who he was cursing.
Alaric assumed Medici meant the Primordial Demoness and Tudor. He chuckled, "They're lunatics, alright. That's why Tudor died. He tried to play a big game, but Adam wasn't in the mood to play along."
"Seems that fanatic does some good occasionally." Medici said, his expression softening, though he didn't seem too surprised.
"Strictly speaking, He's always doing good... for the bigger picture, that is. Of course, you're one of His victims, so I support you cursing Him out." Alaric said with a laugh, returning to his coffee. Soon, two freshly ground cups were ready.
Alaric handed one to Medici, saying sincerely, "Here, have some coffee. It'll help you calm down."
Medici took a sip, only to grimace, nearly spitting it out. He stared at Alaric in disbelief. "How much sugar did you put in this?"
"Half a cup?" Alaric replied uncertainly, sipping his own coffee. "Just in yours, though. You seemed in a bad mood."
The implication: I added extra sugar to your coffee because you were upset.
"Should I say thanks?" Medici said dryly, his voice practically squeezed through gritted teeth.
"You should thank me, but not for the coffee... for the intel I just shared." Alaric said, taking another sip and smiling. "The Primordial Demoness hasn't given up on her old plans, so be careful, Medici. Don't end up as hot pot again."
Medici glanced at him, then scoffed, unclear who he was mocking. "I don't owe favors. What do you want?"
"I'm generous with allies, so I'll give you a bargain. Hand over the Red Priest Blasphemy Card. It's useless to you anyway." Alaric said with a smile, unsurprised by Medici's response.
What Alaric admired most about Medici was that, despite being one of the greatest conspirators, his time with the Ancient Sun God had instilled a strong sense of loyalty to allies. In the original story, Medici had genuinely tried to save the Eternal Blazing Sun after their alliance... only for the Sun to perish, thanks to God Almighty, the ultimate betrayer of the Mysterious World.
"Tch, so it all comes down to that card. I'm curious... what's it to you?" Medici sneered, flipping his hand to reveal the Red Priest Blasphemy Card. "Don't tell me you just want the Hunter pathway potion formula."
Alaric plucked the card from Medici's hand, who didn't resist, clearly agreeing to the trade.
Examining his first Blasphemy Card, Alaric said casually, "Just want to do some research. The Blasphemy Cards are tied to the Outer Deities, and I've been quite interested in them lately."
Medici raised an eyebrow, neither believing nor disbelieving.
After studying the Red Priest card for a few seconds, Alaric tucked it away and looked at Medici. "Since the intel trade is done, let's talk about something else."
Medici's expression grew serious, knowing Alaric was about to discuss the Conqueror characteristic.
Indeed, Alaric began toying with the characteristic again, his smile brighter than ever. "Work for me for three years, and it's yours afterward. Pretty good deal, right?"
Medici's brows furrowed. Three years for a Conqueror characteristic was an offer no one would refuse, as Alaric said... a steal.
For an angel, three years was a mere blink.
"I won't betray my Lord." Medici said, neither accepting nor rejecting outright.
"No need to betray the True Creator. We're allies, remember? Think of it as your Lord loaning you to me for a three-year gig. You can go back after, or treat it as a special three-year mission." Alaric said, hinting, "I doubt the True Creator would mind."
Medici didn't respond immediately, tilting his head as if listening to something. After a moment, he looked at Alaric, having made his decision. "I'll work for you for three years, but if you assign any obviously suicidal tasks, I reserve the right to refuse."
"Of course!" Alaric nodded, smiling. "Don't worry, I don't make a habit of sending people to their deaths. I take good care of my workers. Here's your emblem... welcome to the Joker Club."
Alaric pulled an emblem from his pocket and handed it to Medici.
Medici took it, unsurprised, clearly aware of it since Mr. A had already reported it. He glanced at the emblem, then smirked at Alaric. "So, you really plan to bring Bethel back?"
***
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