CHAPTER 77: HIS BEGINNING’S END

***

Minutes ago, Eris lounged gracefully across Her dark velvet couch, Her right cheek resting against a pale hand as a projection shimmered before Her.

Behind it, the crackling fire filled Her manor with a soft warmth, light flickering across Her red eyes as She watched him.

Xenos stood in that polished marble chamber, large in stature but so weak before the High Elder and his very father.

Despite that, somehow, he was the only one who looked comfortable.

"...wow."

Rather, he was the one with the most maniacal—lovely—smile.

"You called me here for a family reunion? How nice."

Eris’s lips curved slightly.

’That’s my Xenos.’

Even when standing before a Sixth Class and a Seventh, he never bowed.

His calmness was a conviction that She couldn’t help but admire.

Yet Veynar’s voice easily cut through it:

"You aren’t my son."

Eris straightened a little, Her gaze sharpening.

The air in Her manor darkened, Her presence leaking out.

’Would you dare...?’

Thinking that they’d attack, Eris got prepared.

But She quickly stopped Herself, noticing no anger on Veynar’s face.

She’d hold off on intervening for now...

Xenos had it under control.

Besides, She badly wanted to hear what Her Follower would say.

Xenos blinked, genuinely caught off guard, then, as always, that casual smirk returned.

"Unfortunately, I am your son, but just with... a little addition."

Xenocrates leaned back, studying him with sharp eyes, while Eris, with her chin resting on her knuckles, chuckled softly.

"Yes... tell them. Let them know what they’re dealing with."

Xenos spoke about the Ship of Theseus, a metaphor that She, in all Her very, very long life, had never heard of before, finding it very fascinating.

He spoke so simply, yet there was a strange beauty in it.

The way he described his identity never changed.

Xenos liked to weave half-truths into wit.

Eris giggled behind Her hand.

’Perfect.’

She adored that about him.

He was free in a way She never was.

Even back then, when Her power was at its peak.

’That’s it, my clever boy... twist their pride into your ladder.’

But that freedom meant that he was hard to predict.

"Then, as compensation for nearly killing me, how about helping me establish a House?"

And those words were far from what She expected.

Eris would’ve praised every step of his logic.

How he presented himself as whimsical but was far from it.

She really would’ve if She didn’t realize what his words would lead to.

"Sorry for being shameless, Father..."

And, just as she feared, they had arrived, silencing the firelight.

"But... could you get me married to Gaia?"

The manor fell still.

Eris didn’t blink.

"...what?"

Her voice left her before she realized it.

"I..."

Her heart, if such a thing could still be called that, constricted painfully.

"Could you get me married to Gaia?"

"Could you get me married to Gaia?"

"Could you get me married to Gaia?"

The line echoed through Her Soul.

It replayed like a curse.

Once. Twice. Again.

Her red eyes dimmed.

Eris sat there in silence, Her divine presence curling tightly around Her.

The emotion that welled up inside Her chest was unfamiliar.

It came alongside a fear that She didn’t quite understand.

’What is this?’

She pressed Her hand against Her chest, feeling something almost human beneath Her skin.

Her lips parted slightly, confusion flickering across Her otherwise usually serene face.

’Why did those words hurt?’

Eris didn’t understand.

She was a Goddess, emotion was something She commanded, not something that moved Her as it liked.

Yet now, sitting there before the fading projection, all She could feel was... ache.

That, for a reason She didn’t understand, made her hurt and frustrated.

It was the first time that She had ever felt anything like this.

The fire crackled softly beside her, and Eris, the Goddess of Discord and Strife, the wielder of Calamity, the arbiter of madness, simply whispered to the empty room, Her voice trembling with something dangerously close to pain:

"...why does it hurt?"

The projection flickered out.

***

"You’re marrying her for the house?"

Veynar stared blankly at his son.

"Never mind her father, do you think she’d

accept?"

"She probably would."

Xenos shrugged his shoulders, not at all realizing Eris’s current state.

"And when did you ever care about the opinions of children, hm, Father?"

Veynar’s sigh could’ve filled the room.

He reached into his sleeve and handed Xenos a sealed slip.

"For now, take this. It’s a guarantee that’ll make the process faster."

Xenos took it with his signature grin.

"Much appreciated. If you do as I asked, consider this matter over."

He turned to leave, but before he could, the High Elder spoke again:

"Tell your pup to be careful."

Xenos stopped, glancing at Xenocrates’s gleaming eyes.

"Hades left him to rot. It won’t be fast, but the kid’s future is gone."

Silence hung between them before Xenos chuckled...

’Good.’

And walked out, the slip tight in his hand.

The door clicked behind him.

For once, Veynar had been useful...

A rare phenomenon worth remembering.

"Very good."

Xenos muttered to himself, his smirk widening.

"Now I can take everything."

If those less-than-ideal humans actually abandoned that ball of fluff, he’d swoop in and take him in entirely, meaning also Aspen and the other seven guards alongside him.

At the start, Xenos was planning to hug Arc’s furry thigh to the top, but now his plans have changed drastically, making it almost the opposite.

But he wasn’t complaining; getting Lyacons into his House was very beneficial as well, as it would make way for other Anthropo races to join, believing themselves safe from exploitation here.

In essence, it’d allow Xenos a more expansive cast of characters to... leech off from.

This was officially his beginning’s end.

It was time for him to make bigger moves.

But for now... he needed to get out of the Academy.

The hallway he walked through was quiet, suspiciously so, and he didn’t have to wait long to find out why.

"Xenos."

That poised voice was familiar.

He turned, and a similarly familiar woman stood by the marble archway, her white hair falling neatly past her shoulders, her green eyes locked on his gray ones.

It was his sister, Selvara Veynar.

’Of course~.’