“Alright, did you understand my demonstration?” Gaius asked, a knife and a small wooden block in hand. The block had been carved into the shape of a child, complete with little fingers. The only thing lacking were the finer features, like the face and the clothes.

La-Ti, who was holding on to a smaller knife, nodded intently.

“Good,” Gaius replied. “Now, I want you to carve anything you like. But by the end of this evening, I want to see four sculptures. They need not be perfect, but I expect each work to be of better quality than the previous one.”

Gaius looked around. The heat of the sun had little effect on him, but he couldn’t say the same for his new apprentice. After debating for a few moments, Gaius got the little kid to carve inside the house, instead of staying in the courtyard with him. He would have to get up once in a while to check on La-Ti, but that wasn’t an issue.

He got up from his seat, and pulled a log over. It was probably a surreal sight if anyone else saw him, but under today’s blazing sun, there weren’t going to be any curious kids watching him, unlike yesterday. Glancing at the photo pinned onto the log, Gaius began with the face.

Time seemed to drift by unnoticed as Gaius continued to whittle off some wood. Shavings littered the ground, but for all the boy’s hard work, he still couldn’t do it the way Nakama did. There were definitely improvements, but Gaius just couldn’t understand why he was unable to truly impress emotions in them. What he could do was but a mere imitation of feelings, something superficial…

When did I become such an artist? No, can this even be called an artist? The boy rubbed his nose. He’d asked Nakama before, after seeing her work at the exhibition in Kishi Gakuen. His little sister had given him an odd reply.

“What did she say back then?” the boy mused out loud. “Something about being the sculpture?”

He couldn’t remember all that well, but the taut muscles in his right arm had loosened somewhat. Gaius raised the knife in his hand and glanced at it, a wry smile on his face. His heart somewhat zen, the boy returned to his work. Instead of worrying about perfection, Gaius indulged in his memories, of the peaceful times back at the Mortal Light Dynasty.

Up until now, Gaius wasn’t sure if him going there was the right thing. If he wasn’t there, the Unity, and more importantly, the students onboard, may not have made it back to the North. It would be a blow to the phrontistery. A failed hijacking was nowhere as provocative as a successful one, which meant that the possibility of the East still standing by the time he regained consciousness was still quite high.

Particularly so, when one considered the families that were behind each student. If the East did succeed…Gaius wouldn’t know how the future would be.

And yet, all these arguments weren’t particularly satisfying to Gaius. He wasn’t interested in the notion of sacrificing himself for the greater good. Nakama, Isabelle…none of them were into the category of ‘greater good’; he wasn’t Xanadu, the true hero who fought for the future of both Orbs.

In fact, now that he had a lot of time to think about things, not going in the first place would have been the best choice of action.

Gaius’ mind went blank a moment later, his knife having completed an entire face. A lump formed in his throat, a smile forcing its way onto his face later as the boy saw the masterpiece he’d completed.

A sculpture looked back at him, one replete with emotion. Its gaze belonged to someone who spent years gazing and watching the horizon, foretelling the future to come. This wasn’t the visage of a teenager that was just coming of age. No, it was that of a wise prince, one whose eyes peered beyond the physical.

“Damn,” Gaius muttered, stepping down from the makeshift step he was standing on. “I made this guy too impressive.”

“I think it’s not bad, though,” someone said beside him.

Gaius didn’t even feel any surprise now. This was…the third time that the same great god popped up silently by his side to comment on something. Being surprised yet again was just asking for it at this point.

“Are you here to show me another part of my duties?” Gaius asked, curious. “It’s not yet afternoon, so…”

“No worries. I came here to check on that young chap. The you right now can be considered a focal point of destiny, especially after my blessing. That kid might be someone special, so coming down is a given,” he replied.

“I’m only special because you great gods made me,” Gaius huffed lightly. “I think you’re reversing cause and effect here.”

“You’re not wrong in that sense. But whether we chose you because you were special, or because we chose you that you became special…none of this detracts from the fact that the people around you carry a share of your burdens,” the great god replied. “Of course, some of it was your own doing. You were solely responsible for bringing me to my senses; your companion would not have done it of her own volition otherwise.”

“This thing is hard,” Gaius replied.

“Precisely so. Even my progenitors are not infallible; they turned the rise of the Demon Sovereign into a singularity the moment they altered history,” Weiwu said. “Your Orb is currently trying to avoid that result, but now that I’m able to see, I can tell you that the Demon Sovereign will appear.”

“Something changed in the past, something greater than you and me both.” His eyes were twinkling, but the emotion behind those pupils were making Gaius sweat bullets. “I can see, but I no longer can act.”

Gaius felt his head hurt from the mysterious manner in which the great god was speaking. Xanadu’s warning and efforts were apparently doomed to fail, which meant that…

“One of the Constellations is still alive?” The boy bit his lips. “Or did the Last Star overpower the Human God and devour his power? I don’t get it.”

The great god ignored him and entered his house in silence. Within moments, the sounds of moving pieces could be heard from outside, leaving Gaius to stare at the door pensively.

“There he goes again.”

Rolling his eyes, Gaius returned to his sculpting.