"Mr. Gaiate, you’re back."
The portal’s administrator was a young mage; in Carterburg, nobody didn’t recognize a member of the Gaiate family—one was the old Gaiate, who looked very aged but surprisingly had a good temper; the other was the young Gaiate, Malin Gaiate, the sole leader of the Gaiate Group in Carterburg, a double prince of Farole and Sydney, a legendary mage.
There were so many honors, so many that even Gaiate himself couldn’t remember exactly how many titles his child had.
Anyway, the child was much more formidable than his unimpressive father.
Nodding at the young man, Gaiate walked out of the hall and looked at the snowflakes in the sky; this year in Fort Teca, winter was even harsher.
Passing by the corner, he looked at the old fan-shaped corner and remembered; that was where he’d found Malin.
In his life, he had sacrificed everything for revenge and truth, originally believing he would die alone because of it.
But the Goddess of Fate had opened a window for him; the son and daughter he had adopted had talents far surpassing those of noble offspring, the deity had finally left this helpless old man descendants to be proud of for a lifetime.
Even if there was no Gaiate blood in their veins... their surname was Gaiate, and they took pride in that name.
That was enough. For Gaiate, having someone to carry on the surname was already more than satisfying.
Nowadays in Carterburg, there were no longer street urchins waiting to be picked up, thanks to Malin; the child had created a beautiful new world. This child had much more practical skills than those fools who believed in Northernism, whose unrealistic theories couldn’t fill the stomachs of the poor, whereas Malin’s corporation could.
It’s not that Northernism didn’t work; in fact, Gaiate had always sympathized with them. The farmers giving eight-tenths of their produce, the young people who couldn’t even pay their rent working for business owners, and the middle-aged voluntarily under contracts, everyone was struggling to survive in this world. Sadly, their deities did not pity them, nor did their king, nor the nobles. The world had always been this cruel.
There was a time Gaiate also thought this world was beyond redemption. The Lord of Justice never interfered with human affairs; and as for other deities... would you ask the Noble God or the Master of Wisdom? Of course, they would intervene, but only for the sake of nobles.
To rely on them was worse than hoping for the Goddess of Harvest to raise the Battle Flag for the poor.
Unfortunately, the Goddess of Harvest still hadn’t awakened.
It would take a long time for Northernism to understand that those high and mighty would never pity them, to realize those compromisers among them were nothing but rotten to the core due to business owners and nobles, to understand even among their own there existed what Malin called a "discrimination chain."
Malin had said it clearly, quite aptly; the saying was "where you sit determines where you stand." The one sitting on the furrow and the one on the throne were bound not to pee in the same pot; just like sheepdogs that helped manage the lambs for the ranchers, would the sheepdogs ever stand with the sheep against the rancher?
"Father, do you know, only someone like me, who has betrayed the chair beneath them, understands what terrifying stalemate these poor people are facing in the world."
Malin’s words made Gaiate agree deeply; yes, the farmers only knew the sky above, the workers who lived day by day, the female textile workers didn’t know whether the textile factory owners were extracting blood or honey from them, and the children who could only beg on the streets aimlessly didn’t know if they were squandering their own lives or the destiny of their entire race.
Malin had said that knowledge was a double-edged sword; it allowed everyone to comprehend the environment they were in, to realize the ground they stood upon, and even more, to understand... who their enemies would be.
But all this would soon be irrelevant to him. Old Gaiate sighed as he walked through the snow, thinking about his not-so distant future, the ending he chose was to have the Sequence of old called Truth completely sealed.
Truth... these two characters have caused countless deaths.
Gaiate didn’t know how many before, but there should be none after him.
His physical body would be preserved forever, and the incredible machinery known as Truth, a legacy that preceded the Great Destruction Era, would be forever sealed within his body. There would be no more sacrifices to it after Gaiate, and those who truly pursued truth would be able to do so with their own hands, even without the Sequence.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Gaiate," the patrol officer lifted his hat.
"Good afternoon, Officer," Gaiate lifted his flat cap as well, the old man pulling out a box of cigarettes and offering one to the two officers.
"Thank you," the older officer accepted the cigarette, took out a lighter, and first lit one for Gaiate, then for himself and his colleague.
"You’re working hard," Old Gaiate said while noticing across the street, a stretcher was being carried out: "What’s happening there?"