For a while neither of us spoke. Up close, now that I had seen the truth hidden inside his soul, the illusion had become impossible to maintain.
The old man noticed my silence and smiled faintly.
"You have that look."
I glanced toward him.
"What look?"
"The look people get when they discover something that explains far too many things at once."
The smile widened.
"It is usually followed by either a question or a headache."
"Maybe both."
"Reasonable."
I studied him for a few more moments before speaking.
"You know, I once knew someone."
The old man raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
"He was my mentor for a time. Not officially. He would probably complain if I called him that. He preferred pretending he wasn’t helping anyone while somehow ending up helping everyone anyway."
The old man chuckled softly into his drink.
"I know the type."
"I’m sure you do."
The corners of his mouth twitched. I looked out toward the horizon.
"He died."
The words hung between us for several moments.
"At least I thought he did."
The old man’s expression remained unchanged.
"He was one of those people who seemed larger than life. The kind who always had another plan, another trick, another answer hidden somewhere. Losing him felt impossible at first. Like reality had made a mistake."
I laughed quietly.
"Turns out reality hadn’t made a mistake. It was just being complicated."
That finally earned a curious look from him.
"Complicated how?"
"Because years later I met another man."
I could feel his attention sharpening now.
"Different face. Different personality. Different history. If you put them beside one another, nobody would ever mistake them for the same person."
The old man took another sip.
"But?"
"But eventually I discovered they shared the same soul."
For the first time since meeting him, genuine surprise flickered across his face.
I continued before he could interrupt.
"The second man knew things he shouldn’t have known. He carried instincts that didn’t belong to him. Certain habits appeared in both of them despite being separated by worlds and lifetimes."
I smiled faintly.
"And eventually I learned the truth."
The old man remained completely silent.
"The original soul had been divided. Divided deliberately."
I leaned back slightly.
"Each fragment lived a different life. Each fragment accumulated different experiences. Different memories. Different perspectives and powers."
My gaze returned to him.
"The funny thing is that even after discovering the truth, I still couldn’t decide whether it was genius or insanity."
The old man barked out a laugh. A genuine laugh this time.
"Oh, it was definitely insanity."
That answer almost made me laugh too.
"That’s more or less what I concluded."
The old man shook his head while smiling.
"Please tell me the original was an unbearable nuisance."
"He was."
"Excellent."
"He also enjoyed making cryptic statements and refusing to answer questions."
"Even better."
"And he had a habit of acting like the smartest person in every room."
The old man’s smile became almost nostalgic.
"Now that one sounds familiar."
I nodded.
"Eventually I met another fragment."
By the time I finished speaking, he had stopped pretending not to understand where the story was going.
I watched him carefully.
"The thing about meeting enough fragments of the same soul is that eventually you start recognizing the pattern."
The old man’s glass froze halfway to his lips.
"There are signatures people leave behind."
I tapped my temple. He remained silent.
"And after sitting here listening to you ramble..."
The old man sighed.
"I do not ramble."
"You absolutely ramble."
"I philosophize."
"You ramble philosophically."
That earned another laugh. Then I pointed toward him.
"And after listening to you ramble philosophically, I started noticing familiar things."
The old man stared at me for several seconds. Then suddenly laughed.
A full-bodied laugh that echoed across the clouds. By the time it ended, he looked genuinely delighted.
"Oh, that is wonderful."
He wiped one eye.
"Absolutely wonderful."
The old man leaned back.
"So that’s why you were staring."
I nodded.
"That’s why I was staring."
His laughter returned.
"I was trying to figure out whether you recognized me."
"Recognized is a strong word."
"Fair."
"I recognized the soul."
That made him point directly at me.
"Much better answer."
For several moments he simply sat there smiling.
Then he slowly shook his head and reached for the bottle resting beside him.
"Well."
He poured another glass. The amber liquid caught the light of the distant skies.
"I suppose that changes things."
"How?"
"Before this conversation you were merely an interesting visitor causing problems for the Eternals."
He handed the glass toward me.
"Now it appears we’re acquaintances."
I accepted it. The drink smelled surprisingly good.
"Acquaintances?"
The old man looked offended.
"What? You expected family?"
I chuckled.
"Fair enough."
He raised his own glass.
"To unlikely reunions."
Our glasses touched lightly. The old man took a sip before finally straightening slightly.
"Oh. Right."
His expression became almost formal.
"I suppose introductions are appropriate now."
I waited.
"Gerald."
His eyes sparkled with amusement.
"Gerald the Wise."
I looked around at the impossible worlds folded inside worlds, the recursive temples, the civilizations spanning entire realities, and the old drunk sitting on a cloud drinking alcohol in the middle of it all.
Then I looked back at him.
"You gave yourself that title, didn’t you?"
Gerald took a long drink.
"Absolutely."
I shook my head.
"My mentor’s name was Dante."
"Dante. Interesting name. I would have given him the title ’The Devil’. Dante the Devil. Sounds so good." Gerald commented.
For several moments we simply sat there overlooking the endless clouds while the worlds beneath us continued their slow rotation through folded layers of reality.
Then Gerald swirled the remaining liquid inside his glass and glanced sideways at me.
"So."
The amusement remained in his eyes.
"You want my help with Verilux."
I nodded.
"Yes. From what I’ve learned so far, Verilux draws its strength directly from the Soul Sea itself. As long as that connection exists, fighting it is almost impossible. Everyone I’ve spoken to has told me the same thing, that defeating it requires power comparable to a demigod. Unfortunately, that’s one thing we don’t have."
Gerald listened quietly while slowly rotating the glass between his fingers.
"But I’ve also been told something else," I continued. "I’ve been told that if there’s anyone in the Prime Territory who knows a way around that problem, it’s you."
The old man raised an eyebrow but didn’t interrupt.
"I’m not asking you to defeat Verilux for me. I’m not even asking you to fight it. What I need is an opportunity. A weakness. A restriction. Something that can drag it down from being an untouchable guardian connected to an entire ocean and turn it into something I can actually reach."
I smiled slightly.
"And before you accuse me of being overconfident, let me just say that my companions and I are considerably stronger than we look. We’ve already fought Saints. Killed Saints. Escaped Verilux twice. If you can somehow suppress that monster’s strength to the level of an ordinary mid-ranked Saint, I can handle the rest."
Gerald studied me for several long moments.
The amusement never completely disappeared from his face, but I could tell he was no longer treating the conversation casually.
Finally, he spoke.
"Why are you doing any of this?"
His gaze drifted toward the endless clouds below us.
"You’re alive. Not a soul. Not a resident of the Prime Territory. Not someone trapped here by the contracts."
His eyes returned to me.
"So why stay? Why fight the Eternals? Why risk your life against something like Verilux when none of this is your responsibility?"
For a moment I remained silent.
Then I leaned back slightly and looked toward the horizon.
"I suppose there are two reasons."
Gerald waited patiently.
"The first is simple. I don’t like the Eternals."
The old man nodded as though that answer made perfect sense.
"And the second?"
My expression became more serious.
"I’m looking for my parents."
That immediately got his attention.
"They’re Ironharts."
For the first time since meeting him, genuine surprise appeared on Gerald’s face. It wasn’t dramatic, but it was there.
The old man straightened slightly.
"You are an Ironhart?"
I nodded.
"Yes."