Chapter 128. Debate
Levi creased his brow, unsure whether he’d heard Terminus correctly. “Job offer? You mean… You want me to join the Crucible?”
Terminus nodded. “I do.”
Levi felt completely lost. “Why?”
“Several reasons. One, you’re strong. Disturbingly so, if you don’t mind me saying. We of the Crucible are making the entire world our enemy, so strength is mandatory. Two, you also despise the current system. Don’t lie, I saw the look in your eyes earlier. Modern adventurers also make your skin crawl, don’t they?”
Slowly, Levi nodded. “They do,” he admitted. “I’ve met a few who I deeply respect and admire, but the vast majority have been… disappointing.”
“I figured,” Terminus said. “For what it is worth, the Crucible does formally apologize for targeting Liliya Volkov in Operation Dragonmole.” He gave Levi a deep bow. “We originally chose her because her death would’ve held great repercussions, but it is clear now that we erred. From how Phantasm described her, she is truly exceptional. One of the rare adventurers whose strength of skill is exceeded only by strength of heart. It’s a good thing you decided to cheat on the Ascension Trials, Levi Ironwood. I am glad she lived to defeat Theodore Montague. Please, pass our apologies on to her as well.”
“Ah,” Levi said, somewhat taken aback. Terminus seemed… genuinely sincere. “I will, though I doubt she’ll accept it.”
“That’s quite alright. Most people won’t accept what we’re doing. Which leads to my third point. You hold the ability to distinguish between good and evil, and the courage to make the right choice.”
Levi paused. “What do you mean?” he asked carefully.
“You refused to let Yuki die.”
Levi blinked. “Well, yes. What does that have to do with anything?”
Terminus stared at him for a long moment before letting out several hollow chuckles. “Did you know that she was ostracized by the Resistance once?”
Levi frowned. “What?”
“She was the daughter of the Emperor,” Terminus said. “Even though she defected and joined the Resistance, they didn’t look too kindly on her. Once, I got so frustrated, I ended up telling the Resistance’s upper echelons about the Bloodline Purge Ritual. Do you know how they reacted?”
“How?”
“They accepted it,” Terminus said, his voice deceptively calm, almost intrigued. “Former high-tier adventurers, seasoned veteran soldiers, men with decades of experience… They all instantly accepted the plan. I heard not a single word of objection, not even out of formality. They were perfectly willing to let an eighteen-year-old girl die for them. And you know the worst part, Levi Ironwood?”
He smiled. It did not reach his eyes. “They acted like it was expected of her. Like she had some moral obligation, some inherent, immanent, Goddess-given duty to sacrifice her life to atone for her father’s crimes.” He laughed. “Can you believe that? Yuki thought she should die, that she ought to die – and the entire Resistance agreed.”
“Didn’t you as well?” Levi asked.
Instantly, Levi knew that was the wrong thing to say. A terrible pressure exploded forth from Terminus’s form, causing the boundaries of the domain to ripple and shudder. Terminus’s face contorted in fury.
“Let me get something straight, Levi Ironwood,” he snarled. “You may think me a terrorist, a monster, a villain – anything, I don’t care. But do not, and I do mean this from the bottom of my heart, do not ever think I am a man who believes an innocent teenage girl deserves death for something she didn’t do.” Self-loathing filled his tone. “I did not want to kill her – I tried everything I could to not kill her. But I had no choice. I… I was only going to do what I had to do. Do you understand–?”
“I apologize,” Levi said. “I misjudged, and I misspoke.”
Terminus faltered before sighing. “No, it’s fine. I… I understand why it might seem that way from the outside. Just…” He was silent for a long moment. “I have not said this yet. But thank you, Levi Ironwood, for telling Yuki those words that night. And thank you for refusing to go along with my plan. That is what I meant – you recognized letting her die was evil from the start, and even though it would’ve been the more convenient choice, you still decided to make the right one. An entire Resistance’s worth of men who claimed to love and respect her as their leader – yet you were the only one to say she deserved to live.”
He was silent for a second before continuing. “That is why I invite you to join the Crucible. With your strength, our overall efficacy will skyrocket. Many of our plans are still plans, but with you on our side, we can make them a reality. We can make our dreams a reality.” Terminus reached out his hand. “Help us save the world, Levi Ironwood.”
Levi stared at the extended hand for a long time.
“I empathize with your viewpoint,” he said slowly, carefully choosing each word, “and I agree with your criticisms of the current system. I am heartened to know that the Crucible wishes to change that.”
Terminus’s expression brightened. “Then you’ll join us–?”
“The only issue,” Levi continued, in that same thoughtful tone, “is that for some strange, inexplicable reason, you guys are insisting on doing it in the most foolish, asinine way possible.”
Terminus froze. “P-Pardon?”
“Your plan is so flawed I don’t even know where to start,” Levi said. “You can’t just plunge the entire world into war and expect humanity to emerge better for it. War, inherently, is chaotic and unpredictable. Yes, it might forge humanity into something better, but it can just as easily break humanity into something infinitely worse.”
“That is why we will guide it in the right direction–”
Levi snorted. “Like you did for the Yukihasan civil war?”
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“That’s not fair,” Terminus protested. “The Chorus was an unanticipated variable.”
“War is full of unanticipated variables,” Levi said. “Or do you claim to have factored in every potential player in the entire world? To have accounted for every variable, to have uncovered every secret, to have unearthed every mystery?” He shook his head. “It’s impossible. Even with a team of sages and clairvoyants, it’s impossible. To say otherwise is either sheer hubris or sheer stupidity.”
“I’m not saying we can account for every variable, but we don’t necessarily need to. Just look at Yukihasa. Even with the Chorus’s involvement, our plan still worked.”
“Did it?” Levi asked. “I think it’s too soon to tell. Sure, its people rose up and banded together as the Resistance, but who’s to say they won’t revert to old habits now that the war is over? Maybe you’re right, maybe the country really did change. But you can’t say that until it happens; until then, it’s all wishful conjecture. And besides, even if Yukihasa did improve, that’s not to say the same thing will happen next time. It is impossible for you to perfectly recreate the exact conditions and prerequisites that led to this outcome.”
Terminus hesitated. “Yes, but–”
“And even if we accept that the plan worked,” Levi said, “that still doesn’t mean it was a good plan. Just how many people died these past ten years? Just how much pain and despair did Yukihasa have to suffer? And this was just one country. Imagine if the war encompassed the entire world. Just how many people would have to die? Hundreds of thousands? Millions?”
“Tragic, but unavoidable,” Terminus said. “Those people are necessary sacrifices. I don’t like it, but it has to be done. We’re doing this to save the world–”
“Those people are the world, you fucking imbecile!” Levi snapped. “Do you not understand? Those people are part of the very world you claim you want to save!”
“I do understand,” Terminus retorted, “but you can’t make an omelette without breaking a few eggs–”
“Yes you can!” Levi said. “What are you talking about? Why do you and Phantasm keep saying that? I can make a thousand omelettes in a row without breaking a single egg!”
“It’s a metaphor!”
“And metaphors don’t perfectly translate to real life,” Levi said. “Besides, even in that metaphor, you’re being a hypocrite! You praise me for refusing to sacrifice Yuki’s life, yet you ask me to help you sacrifice millions more?! Why would I ever agree to that? The Crucible’s plan is just needlessly cruel and ineffective.” He shook his head. “I can’t believe I once thought you guys had some grander plot… I thought you were planning to fight the moon or something, for heaven's sake!”
Terminus blinked. “Fight the what–?”
“Never mind, that’s not important,” Levi said. “What’s important is that this plan will result in millions of deaths with no guarantee that it’ll even work.”
“Then what will?” Terminus snapped. “If you know so much better, then what will improve this world? The Crucible’s plan is flawed and imperfect, that I admit, but at least we’re trying! There just aren’t any other options! Unless you have any suggestions?”
Levi shrugged. “Have you tried dismantling the world’s governments and installing newer, better ones?”
Terminus laughed. “And how exactly do you propose we do that? Just stroll up to the King of Luminarche and say ‘Oh by the way do you mind stepping down pretty please?’ Your plan sounds good in theory, but it’s impossible in practice!”
“No, it’s not.”
Terminus scoffed. “How is it not–?”
He froze, his entire body going utterly still.
Levi realized his mistake a moment too late. He coughed.
“Oh, err,” he said, “I mean, yeah, you’re right, it’s impossible–”
“You intend to dismantle Luminarche’s government,” Terminus breathed, his eyes slowly widening. It was as though he’d just received a divine revelation that terrified and amazed him in equal measure.
Levi laughed awkwardly. “Whaaat? Nahhh, that would be ludicrous. Who would be insane enough to do such a thing?”
Terminus stared at him.
Levi stared back.
There was a moment of silence.
“Fuck,” Levi said. “Please don’t tell anyone.”
“Holy shit.”
“I’m serious. I will deny all accusations and call you crazy, just so you’re aware.”
“Holy shit!” Terminus said again. “You… You intend to dismantle Luminarche’s government!”
“Not immediately,” Levi admitted. “It was always meant to be a last resort. I want to see if I can change things via other means first. Political pressure, social revolutions, and so on. But if all else fails…” He shrugged. “Well, I already helped overthrow one government. What’s one more?”
“Dear Goddess… But, how do you know that you can? You’re powerful, but you’re only one man against an entire nation.”
Levi blinked, observing Terminus for a long moment. Then, he chuckled. “Oh, I understand now,” he said softly. “You guys are too weak, huh?”
Terminus reared back. “Excuse me?”
“No, it makes sense. The Crucible talks big, but you’re well aware that you can’t actually make the world your enemy. You’d get crushed. That’s why you hide in secrecy, why you rely on sabotage and assassination, why Qorbin Ravenbane scares you so much – for that matter, why even keep him alive? This whole plan to plunge the world into war… You intend to make the world fight each other, because you aren’t strong enough to fight the world. Am I wrong?”
Terminus narrowed his eyes. “You insult us–”
“OF COURSE I INSULT YOU!” Levi roared. Terminus tensed up as magic exploded from Levi, dense and overwhelming. “You are an organization too weak to give a proper fight, so instead you resort to hurting innocents. How can I not insult you?” He paused. “But then again, you’re already aware of this, aren’t you? Otherwise, the past seven years wouldn’t have weighed down on you so. You may say the Crucible’s plan in Yukihasa worked… but even then, you still hate yourself for it, don’t you?”
That hit a nerve. Terminus recoiled, then deflated. “I… I do.” His expression hardened with resolve. “But I don’t care. It’s a small price to pay–”
“No, it isn’t,” Levi said, a sudden intensity in his voice. “You may think that. But that’s because you don’t understand. It won’t get better. The more people that die, the worse that feeling will get. You will grow to hate yourself, you will resent yourself, you will despise every fiber of your being until you feel compelled to isolate yourself in a self-imposed solitude, driven to near madness, cursed by the very ideals you once thought beautiful, the days and weeks and months and years blurring together as you await the inevitable approach of death.”
All alone in a teahouse, consumed by guilt and self-loathing, hunted and hated by an entire world.
Terminus stared at him, almost fearfully. “What are you…”
“It’s not worth it,” Levi said. “Trust me on this.”
Terminus was silent. He looked like he wanted to object, but the look on Levi’s face stopped him.
“You may think you have to do this,” Levi said. “You may think you have no other choice. But… you’re wrong. You only think that way because the Crucible isn’t strong enough to do anything else.”
“And you are?” Terminus challenged, though there was no heat in it. More curious, even desperate.
“I am a [Hero],” Levi said simply. “Overcoming impossible odds is what we do.”
Terminus regarded him with an indecipherable gaze. Then, he inclined his head.
“I suppose it is.”
They both fell silent for a moment.
“So,” Levi said. “Now that we’ve established I’m not going to join the Crucible… I have a counteroffer in mind.” He smiled, grey eyes glinting with something dangerous, and Terminus instinctively took a step back. “How about you work for me?”