Chapter 194 - I Had A Cup Of Coffee With The Devil (1/2)

There are no words that I can muster that will make what I am about to describe to you seem believable. Not even I would have believed this were I to have read what I am about to tell you.

But it is the truth. This much I can assure you — I am willing to put my entire career on the line for this story, come what may. So without further ado, allow me to present you...

The story of the man who dared to judge the gods themselves, Reed Evergreen.

— Isca Yaalte, Introduction to Part One: The Hollow Years and Endless Nights

There was a somewhat lonely aura of worldly detachment about him. A painful hollowness that rang like the sound of a rotten tree that had died many seasons ago. As if eroded by the endless onslaught of time, illness, and exhaustion.

But this was not something she had gleamed until much, much later.

And that was what had made Isca Yaalte so very interested in the infamous figure known across the continent as Reed Evergreen. A funny thing, that she would find herself more intrigued in him, rather than his actions, as was the prevailing inclination among the populace.

His reputation transcended anything anyone had ever seen, as it had rightfully become a matter of universal contention and frequent debate. It would not be a lie to say that his name had become embedded in the continent's history as well as its social fabric.

The Redeemer, The Morning Star, The Stainless Prince, Virtue's Son...

The Traitor. Tomorrow's Despot. Meddling Foreigner. Tyranny's Spawn...

Suffice to say, the number of titles, nicknames, and curses about him were endless. Every person in Mulia had their own word to describe him, be it harmful or not. There was no way one could not have an opinion about him, given what he had done.

His actions naturally ended up overshadowing him, as they entailed the fate of the entire world. It was an unfortunate consequence, but an expected one. His existence would forever be tied to the tremendous reformation and unrest that arose from his actions.

And yet when Isca personally met him for the first time, she felt as if all of her preconceptions had been torn asunder.

The moment he stepped into the conference room, his dynamic figure dominated everyone present, herself included. He was one of the few people in the world who draw silence from any person, no matter who they were.

He was”Babel made flesh” it was often purportedly said by those who had met him... and that on his mighty shoulders one would find Justice and Truth vigilantly perched, awaiting for injustice to rear its ugly head.

People would comment that his voice carried the dignity of a thunderstorm, of nature's wrath that sowed life and at the same time, punished the wicked, for the mighty storm begot both rain and thunder.

For the longest, Isca had not believed the infatuated ravings that she had heard about him. As a professional historian, she prided herself on her ability to remain focused and impartial under any situation, but that day...

She lost her composure for the first time.

It had not been until he had actually finished his speech and left the room that she felt her mental faculties return to her. Embarrassingly enough, she had not even turned on her camera drone to record his speech, resulting in her leaving empty-handed.

There was no way to describe him as other than simply... ethereal.

At first, Isca considered the possibility that she had been placed under some spell to charm her into a state of total docility, but eventually, she relented and accepted the truth.

That man was born to speak, if not to lead. He was born with the character of a ruler.

You could be fortunate enough to have been born into an actual royal family and still not been lucky enough to have been blessed with the gift he had been born with.

It was one thing to rule through authority supported by power, but to rule by commanding the hearts of men was another matter altogether.

They were but grains of sand — innumerable and insignificant — slipping through Time's fingers as they fell into obscurity...

But the other method was different. It was nothing like the first in any form, for it was the legendary fire of the gods. In human terms, it was the gift Prometheus had gifted Men.

The second method did not build kingdoms; it built whole civilizations. It was an eternal flame that could set aflame the hearts of all men and women without fail. With this divine gift, one could rally an endless number of souls for any cause, regardless of the consequences.

That gift did not leave behind kingdoms — it left in its wake the very essence of myths and legends; timeless impressions on the weave of history that would last for as long as there were people.

Isca did not sleep the night she realized this simple truth. How could she? The implication of such a thing could make even the most unimaginative idiot wonder what the future had in store for the world.

Dangerous was the first word that came to her mind when she reflected on it all. That sort of charisma he possessed could drive people to do terrible things if used inappropriately. For every great feat, he could inspire others to accomplish, he could likewise convince them to commit an equivalent atrocity.

Several days and many coffee pots later, Isca put her thoughts onto the press and published a small opinion piece in an even smaller periodical in her hometown of Arenthdal.

The Allure of the Flame by Isca Yaalte — An ominous expose on the dangers that people like Reed Evergreen have on people. Part doc.u.mentation on the horrors and achievements that the few individuals born with the talent Reed possessed were capable of and an alarming warning to those foolish enough to let themselves get carried away.

For what it was worth, the article had not been an attack on Reed. Heaven above knew he received enough of that, so Isca purposefully wrote it without ever criticizing Reed even once. All she wanted to do was highlight the dangers that shining stars — beacons of light that attract people — have had on society over the ages, across all races and their respective histories.

”One can never know if that faint, faraway mote of light in the dark is friendly or not. Whether it is the light of a better future or the ominous spark of a future inferno to be born. It then falls upon us to approach this gallant figure that we have all become so attracted to with a responsible mindset.

We must not lose sight of the past and let ourselves fall into delusions again. Even if it means scrutinizing the young man who saved us all. Heroes and saints must also be held accountable, too.

After all, those were his words, were they not?”

But as Isca expected, an article at the bottom of page six would not move any meaningful hearts, much less one that seemed like a half-hearted jab at Reed Evergreen from the dark. She received a couple of... passionate online comments from certain idlers on the Nexus as anticipated and a few disapproving scowls from some of her colleagues, but nothing ever happened in the end.

Or so she had thought. No more than a couple of days later, she found herself hearing someone knock on her door, only to find...

”Good evening, Ms... Yaalte? I'm terribly sorry if I caught you unawares at such an odd hour. You see, I was just held up by a meeting with some of my colleagues at the— ah, forgive me.”

Isca felt her mind turn incoherent when she realized who stood on her doorstep. Needless to say, there were only a few people in the world who fit such a unique profile. Add in his distinctive voice and there was no denying who had come to visit her...

He awkwardly hunched down so he could be better seen and said, ”I am sorry, I haven't yet introduced myself, right?”