Northern and everyone else tensely awaited Ilitis' response, causing a grave silence to fall over the room—even if just for a few seconds.
The shopkeeper exhaled, his gaze meeting Paragon Raizel's with steady confidence. Yet, his smile—solemn and unmoving—refused to truly live.
Then he responded:
"Well. You are indeed right. I have considered such cases… and particularly before meeting this strange client, seeing how he knew exactly where to seek me."
Paragon Raizel grinned.
"So he was pretty sus, huh?"
Ilitis responded evenly, "He was."
The man took a small pause, exhaling deeply before resuming.
"However, it will take me a little bit of time to do anything regarding this issue. And I most certainly cannot do anything here."
Paragon Raizel remained silent even after Ilitis had spoken. His gaze had dropped to the ground, eyes slightly unfocused, while his foot tapped an absent rhythm.
A moment later, he raised his head and stared at the shopkeeper.
"That's fine. The main purpose of this meeting was to figure out how to get the hell out of this damn place."
With that, he turned his head toward Northern, Ascendant Zion, and Sage Mack.
"Anyone here brimming with divine revelations on how to escape this city—with its civilians intact—and not get eviscerated before reaching the warmth of safety, however far that may be?"
Northern studied the man for a few seconds. Then his gaze sharpened slightly.
"I want to understand you…"
He paused for barely a breath before continuing.
"You want to escape this city with all its civilians? Not just yourself, but all of them?"
The Paragon grinned crookedly at Northern and nodded.
"Why? Does it sound like gibberish to you?"
Northern frowned, tilting his head slightly.
"…It doesn't to you?"
Paragon Raizel shrugged.
"Sounds perfectly sane to me."
He threw a glance at Ascendant Zion and Sage Mack.
"…Or what do you guys think?"
Ascendant Zion remained silent, but Sage Mack exhaled before responding,
"Although it's a bit of wishful thinking… it is expected. We can't just leave these people behind and escape on our own."
Paragon Raizel's smile widened with satisfaction. He gestured grandly, emphasizing Sage Mack's words:
"Riiighhhhhtt? Rather expected! Stars forbid I'd ever care about my own skin more than the powerless."
Northern squinted slightly.
Was he defective?
Northern simply did not understand why anyone would put the safety of people they did not even know before their own.
Yet, at that moment, Paragon Raizel seemed to be studying him—really studying him—as if he had dived into his mind.
Then, with an almost annoyingly appealing voice, the man spoke:
"Oh, and make no mistake, Ral. The only reason I have a responsibility to protect these people is simply because I can. You don't need any extra pep talks about heroism."
His voice was casual, but his words struck deeply.
"In fact, there's nothing heroic about the involvement of death—especially when it's your own. Saving your skin and caring only about yourself is selfish, yes. But that's a decision no one should hold against you. After all… we already live in a selfish world."
The Paragon grinned mischievously.
Northern, however, frowned.
"Then what is it about, if it isn't heroism?"
Paragon Raizel's gaze locked onto him, his expression turning more serious—more weighty.
His next words fell with the force of that weight.
"Responsibility."
Northern's frown got darker.
"…Responsibility?"
The Paragon nodded, his grin lingering.
"That makes even less sense than before," Northern muttered. "So you're responsible for them just because you're a Paragon? And yet you claim it's not an act of heroism? To me, this just sounds like another way of saying 'heroism' without actually using the word."
Paragon Raizel shook his head.
"Ral. Heroism is good—there's nothing wrong with it. But heroism is selfless. Responsibility, on the other hand, is a necessity."
He leaned forward slightly, his voice steady, unwavering.
"It's how we save what little is left of our rotten world."
He paused for a moment, allowing the words to settle before continuing.
"For every one person who awakens the power of a star, ten others do not. A historic scholar—a philosopher who studied the constellations and their passive existence—once postulated that ten souls are sacrificed to build the potency of one."
Raizel's voice remained firm, yet there was something almost detached about the way he spoke.
"The world already revolves around Drifters, abandoning the ancient humanity. If Drifters do not deem themselves responsible for humans, then at some point in the future, humans will perish—like insignificant insects. And when that happens, fewer and fewer Drifters will awaken, because the ordinary ten souls meant to fuel the birth of a stellar one… will no longer exist."
Northern fell silent.
For several seconds, he thought about what the Paragon had said.
Philosophers, of course, had always existed in history. He had come across many of them—Drifters burdened by an unexplainable weight, tethered to the mundanity of humanity.
They cared too deeply for the powerless, mourning the way the society neglected them.
So Northern wasn't ruling out the possibility that such a philosophy had been created as a way to impose a sense of importance onto mundane humans.
But as much as Northern wanted to dismiss the Paragon's words, they made sense—at least, in a pragmatic consideration of that postulated theory.
Drifters held immense value. Nations and governments wouldn't hesitate to sacrifice a million mundane humans if it meant saving a single Paragon.
Especially if that Paragon had the power to protect them—mundane or not.
Paragon Raizel's explanation of responsibility made more sense than Northern had anticipated. It wasn't an act of heroism. It was an act of preservation.
That is, if the theory was true.
And even if it wasn't, Northern didn't blame the philosopher who first posited it. Instead, he was… amazed.
In the grand scheme of things, unawakened souls were more valuable than an awakened one.
Because they were the fuel for another to awaken.
If ten awakened souls were snuffed out, it meant a Drifter had been prevented from ever being born.
If no one cared for the existence of mundane humans—if they continued treating them as insignificant insects—then at some point, they would cease to exist.
Drifters would awaken less.
Humanity would fall.
And whatever remained would be a dying race—void of Drifters, or at best, a world with only one or two left.
So that's why…
Northern could come to terms with such an act of responsibility and preservation.
He nodded, having nothing more to say.
"I guess it does make some sense when looked at that way… if the theory is true, that is."
Paragon Raizel shrugged.
"Whether it's true or not… I've chosen it as my way of life. It keeps me sane, so it changes nothing."
Northern regarded the Paragon for a moment but didn't respond.
Nothing needed to be said anymore.
Then—
CLAP!
Paragon Raizel smacked his hands together, the loud sound tearing through the room, breaking its heavy tension.
"So?! Anyone with divine ideas?!!"
Northern lingered for a second. Then, he spoke.
"I have a way."