Chapter 2900 — Chapter 2900 Janus

Supreme Mordret stared at Saint Mordret, both of them reflecting in each other's eyes. One wore an expression of contempt, the other of wistful sympathy.

One was the captor, and the other was the captive.

Eventually, the captor said:

“But you don't seem to hold it against him, do you?"

He lingered for a few moments, and then smiled bitterly.

“You know, it's funny. What was it that she said? The one in the basement is nice, but the other one is a horror show... of the two of us, you are the one people tend to perceive as the better version. But they all fail to realize that even if I am not nice, you are the real horror show between us."

Mordret leaned forward, almost pressing his forehead against the mirror.

“I might not be entirely human, but you... you are barely a human, at best. You lack so much. You can't feel anything — not resentment, not anger, not hatred. Not the feeling of being hurt, not the feeling of being betrayed. Not even the painful shame of being discarded. Which one of us deserves to be called the King of Nothing, really?"

He shook his head.

“People don't seem to understand that a person who is a friend to everyone is loyal to no one. Your nice act is simply a facade that hides how crippled and inhuman you are. You smile blissfully at that girl, the Princess of Shadows... but if the Dreamspawn was here, killing her, you'd smile blissfully at him too."

His reflection sighed.

"You are probably right. But... I like to think that I'd at least ask him to stop."

Mordret looked at the reflection chillingly.

"And yet if he refused to listen and tortured her to death, you wouldn't hold it against him. You wouldn't be capable of holding it against him... so how can they look at you and see someone nice?"

He paused for a second and then smiled.

"Maybe it's because you are so blank that all they can see in you is a reflection of themselves. No one really understands how empty you are, so they simply project their own image of what a human should be on you. And since people love nothing more than themselves, you receive their sympathy. Must be nice."

Mordret took a step back and laughed.

“Well, it's not like I need anyone's sympathy. And it's not like I would feel the inclination to do something if that girl was being tortured and killed in front of me, either... so I guess neither of us has that good of a claim on being human. Which is just as well. Who would want to be human, anyway?"

He grinned.

“In truth, I am only keeping the girl alive for two reasons. One is to have her as hostage in case I need to force Song of the Fallen to do something she doesn't want to do... or deter her from doing something that I don't want her to do. The witch knows to be on her best behavior unless she wants to see her little friend tortured, broken, and killed."

His grin dimmed a little.

“The other reason is insurance in case the Lord of Shadows does come back. Until the Dreamspawn is dealt with, it's best to have a cordial relationship with that man — and I don't think that he'll take the death of his prized pupil well. Having him throw a fit in the middle of a war against the Dreamspawn would be most problematic."

The other Mordret studied the King of Nothing for a while, not saying anything. Eventually, though, he asked:

"You don't usually feel the need to explain yourself to me. Why are you so talkative today, brother?"

Mordret just stared at him, a subtle frown twisting his brow.

"Yes, indeed. Why am I so talkative today?"

His reflection sighed.

"It's because you are nervous, isn't it? You are."

Mordret smiled.

“Why should I be nervous? I am having the time of my life. An all-consuming war against the entire world, with nothing impeding or constraining me... ah, I am having a blast. You can't imagine how liberating it is, to finally be free of the need to pretend to be something I'm not. To be free of the need to reflect all those people back on themselves so that they'd see me as one of their own."

He chuckled.

"You know, that thing that defined us and our entire despicable clan — the lineage of War God. I used to think that it was severely misunderstood. They went around giving us titles like the Prince of War, the Princess of War... the Sovereign of War. But War God was also the Goddess of Life, the deity of technology and progress. She was the patron deity of humanity, as well."

Mordret shook his head.

“Our father and grandfather were praised and exalted as conquerors, as consummate warriors. But they were both craftsmen first, and fighters second. They were artificers who wielded Utility Aspects... they created things. So, I always thought that focusing solely on the War aspect of War God was misguided."

He looked around and grinned.

"But now that I am waging absolute war against all of existence... ah, I finally understand the allure. It feels natural to me. I like it — I am enjoying myself way more than I ever expected. I think it really is in our blood, war."

Mordret looked at his counterpart and grimaced.

"Although someone as pathetic as you would never be able to understand it."

The other Mordret studied him for a long while, contemplating something.

Eventually, he asked quietly:

"You don't think you can win, do you?"

Mordret stared at his reflection for a few moments, expressionless.

He scoffed.

“What are you talking about? Of course, I can win. I will win. You just wait and see... at the end of all this, I'll be more vast and powerful than ever, while the Dreamspawn will be broken and defeated, sealed in some hellhole he will never be able to escape."

His reflection shook his head.

"No... you can't."

The other Mordret looked up at his Supreme self, seeing his own reflection in those mirror-like eyes.

"You cannot defeat that man, brother. You know you can't... he made us, after all. Everything we are was molded in his image. He knows everything there is to know about us, while we only know what he decided to show us. He is older, stronger, more knowledgeable. He has all of humanity fighting on his side — he has everything. But what do we have? We only have ourselves. And that is not enough to defeat everything.”

Mordret just stared at him silently.

After a short while, his reflection added:

"So, why are you persisting in this madness? This is not like you, brother. Trying to destroy all of humanity was already monstrous enough... misguided enough... but you were too late. Now, it's too late. That man already made all of them conduits of his Domain, so he is unstoppable now. You can't even steal people from his Domain without becoming infected by the plague yourself. Don't you see that there is no way to win?"

Mordret remained silent for a few moments, then smiled crookedly.

"Who says that we only have ourselves?"

He looked up, as if trying to pierce the obsidian walls of the Ebony Tower with his gaze.

“I also have Song of the Fallen. She can cleanse my mind of the plague, which means that I still have a chance. Sure, the Dreamspawn cannot be destroyed as long as people remember him, but when there are no people, and I am the only one left, whose power will be greater? Whose Will will be more powerful? This war is far from being lost, brother... I'll find a way to win it. Wait and see."

His other self slowly shook his head.

“Lady Cassia might be powerful and talented, and her Aspect might be exactly what you need to prolong this war — but she is merely a Saint. How much of the plague can she erase from the mind of a Supreme? Enough to add a few vessels to your Domain each day? A few hundred? How are you going to subjugate millions of Awakened and billions of mundane people before the Dreamspawn comes to take your head?"

He sighed.

“I just don't understand why you are preparing for the decisive battle here, on the Chained Isles. Wasn't your plan to escape into the Hollow Mountains and lead a long guerrilla campaign against the Hunger Domain from the safety of the mist? What changed?"

The other Mordret lingered for a second and then asked with a hint of concern in his voice:

“Are you sure that Lady Cassia only erased those of your memories that were the source of the plague?"

Mordret studied him silently for a while, then smiled.

"Yes. I am quite sure. Do you think that I am more trusting than you? Of course, I've set countermeasures in place before letting her anywhere near my mind."

He inhaled deeply, then looked his reflection in the eye.

"Sure, that was the plan. However, that plan became meaningless the moment Changing Star and the Lord of Shadows chose to disappear instead of serving as a foil for the Dreamspawn, at least for a while. Everything happened too swift without them. Besides..."

He lingered for a moment, then looked away.

"You probably won't get it, but... there comes a time when a man must take a stand. For me, that second is now."

Mordret looked around the circular chamber, then faced the mirror once again.

“You know, the first time I fought Morgan, I was quite afraid. After all, she had always been a bit of a scarecrow in my mind — someone who was more talented than me, more powerful than me, more favored than me. Someone who was more desirable than me, and for a good reason. A true heiress of War, forged into a perfect weapon by our father."

He smiled bitterly.

“And indeed, when we finally crossed swords, I almost lost my life. I did lose a hand and an eye, actually... but in the end, I still won. I was able to win because I held nothing back — because unlike her, I didn't care about losing a hand and an eye, and more than that, I didn't care about staying alive. About staying free instead of ending up in another cage for countless years. All I cared about was winning that fight."

His smile faded slowly, replaced by a cold, grim expression.

“So now that I am set to face the Dreamspawn in battle... to face my maker... how can I hope to win if I am holding something back? If I leave myself a path of retreat and plan for what happens if I lose, if I scheme to survive even if I am defeated... then I have already been defeated, don't you think?"

Mordret sighed and looked around, a pleasant smile finding its way back onto his lips.

"No... whatever happens, it will happen here, on the Ebony Island. I am not running from this fight. I think it's quite fitting, actually, that everything will be decided on the Chained Isles. You wouldn't know, but I made a lot of memories here, a long time ago."

Turning back to the mirror, he laughed.

"So I can't wait to make more... this time, they will be memories of war."