Chapter 1216: Agreement

The silence stretched long.

Atticus didn’t know if he could fight a damn Segment Star… but he was sure as hell glad this one had a hole the size of a head in his chest.

At Atticus’ question, the Quiet Flame simply smiled, but his expression remained hidden.

"You might be able to help me."

Boom.

Atticus’ battle intent erupted, flooding the area. His grip on his katana tightened.

"How?" he asked, voice cold.

"By winning the Virelenna."

The Quiet Flame could sense Atticus’ confusion and continued.

"The Virelenna is what you’re here for, Kin of the Fallen Star. Winning it will grant you the right to ascend to the Middle Planes."

’That’s the game Whisker told me about,’ Atticus realized.

"You said ’by winning’, does that mean you want me to be your representative?"

"If you want to participate. Only the Segment Star has the power to nominate a god. And yet, every god serves as a representative of their respective Star."

"How many segments are in the lower plane?"

The Quiet Flame paused, as if debating whether to answer. Then he spoke.

"Four."

"Can more than one god be selected?"

"Yes."

’That means I should expect more than four opponents,’ Atticus thought.

"What does it mean for me to be your representative?"

"You’re very thorough, Kin of the Fallen Star. I imagined your kind to be fearless."

"I’m different," Atticus said flatly, ignoring the jab. While Ozeroth rampaged through his thoughts in outrage, things like this barely phased Atticus anymore.

The Quiet Flame smiled faintly.

"Nothing will change for you. It was meant to be beneficial to the winning world and its respective Star."

"So you gain a lot from my efforts. I don’t like that."

"What?" The Quiet Flame sounded genuinely surprised.

"During this competition, is there a chance I could die? Or that my world could be destroyed?"

"…Yes." The Quiet Flame didn’t like where this was going.

"So…" Atticus tilted his head slightly. "You’re saying that I get to risk my life out there, where I could die at any moment… you do literally nothing but watch, and still gain from it?"

The Quiet Flame remained silent.

Atticus continued.

"That’s a one sided deal. I’m not going to do that."

"Representing your Star and taking part in the Virelenna is an honor of the highest level," the Quiet Flame tried to reason.

But Atticus remained impassive.

"You claimed you’ve watched me for so long. Do you really think I care about honor?"

The Quiet Flame was speechless. This wasn’t how he expected the conversation to go.

He knew how much Atticus wanted to ascend. It was supposed to be a fast in and out exchange. Consent, and then selection.

Still, he tried again.

"I’m providing you with valuable information about your competitors—"

"That’s expected. You wouldn’t want your representative to lose."

The Quiet Flame stared at Atticus for several seconds.

"You’re overreaching, Kin of the Fallen Star. I don’t know what your goal is here, but you have no leverage. You need to ascend to the Middle Planes, and this is the only way to do it."

"I highly doubt that." Atticus shook his head. "If I’m right… and you still haven’t healed after all these centuries, then your power is dwindling as time passes. I could simply delay my ascent until you’re weak enough for me to pass through anyway. Or I could try other Stars and see if they’ll take me. There are numerous possibilities. None of them involve me being used for free labor."

"They’re all futile attempts," the Quiet Flame said.

"Could be. Or not. I won’t know until I try."

Atticus narrowed his eyes. "Also, I think you’re underestimating the significance of my threats."

His gaze sharpened, and the Quiet Flame’s gaze narrowed.

"I’m the only god in your segment. The only chance you have to heal the wounds that plague you. Without me, you will potentially remain like this forever."

Atticus could feel the air instantly grow heavy. The Quiet Flame’s gaze sharpened, intensity rising.

"What do you want?"

There was no way Atticus had done all this without wanting something in return. He didn’t make him wait long.

"Unrestricted access."

The Quiet Flame tilted his head slightly. "To what?"

"The Lower Planes."

"You mean…?"

Atticus nodded. "When I ascend to the Middle Planes, I want unrestricted access to the Lower Plane. Specifically, your segment."

The Quiet Flame shook his head. "Even if I grant you access, you won’t be able to descend unless the segment of the middle Planes permits it."

"Let me worry about that."

A heavy sigh escaped the figure. He turned fully toward Atticus.

"It’s wildly arrogant of you to assume you’ll be winning the Virelenna."

"I simply can’t imagine any other outcome. Besides, if you weren’t so sure of me winning, you wouldn’t even consider agreeing to this deal."

"You’re so sure I’ll agree to it?"

"You don’t have a choice."

The world went silent as star and god locked eyes.

The former was a being of unimaginable comprehension, ancient, vast. The latter should have been on his knees, worshipping him.

Yet they sat on thrones of equal height, as though they were equals.

Despite the absurdity of it… the Quiet Flame didn’t feel like they were equal.

He, the Quiet Flame, the star of the segment Aelrion, felt overwhelmed… by a child.

The Quiet Flame shook his head slowly, then gave a nod.

"Alright. We have a deal."

The world trembled slightly, as though acknowledging the pact.

Atticus instantly felt it, a subtle connection had formed. Something that couldn’t be broken.

"Good choice," Atticus said. "Now, let’s get straight to it. You said you were the strongest… what about now?"

The Quiet Flame reached for his chest.

"This wound cost me more than I would want to admit, including my power. Last I checked… I was the weakest."

’Of course.’ Atticus sighed.

There was always a twist. He decided to confirm the rest of his assumptions.

"Does your newfound weakness affect the worlds under you in any way?"

Atticus’ question was met with silence from Quiet Flame. He stared at Eldoralth’s god silently.

"…Yes."