"The answer to that question doesn't depend on me. Why ask a riddle whose answer you already decide yourself—do you find that amusing?" Despite the return of his memories, the boy's manner of speaking remained unchanged. He glanced around with disdain and snorted. The iron-black cage around him hummed once the current was activated, while the floor and walls were engraved with painful-to-look-at distorted curves and complex four-dimensional polygonal topologies. Even the overhead lighting ran on an isolated power supply.
It didn't take much thought to know how long it had taken to construct such a tight magical prison. The boy didn't need to think to understand this place hadn't been built for him. It was meant to imprison spirits. He was only here because it just happened to be convenient.
"I'm not thanking you, Solomon. I don't believe you're helping me," he said. "I can hear the grief from the people above, like a saw blade slowly dragging down the spine. You sacrificed so many lives and weapons just to destroy half of Chaos God Asa's soul. Even if out of revenge, you wouldn't let me leave so easily."
"You underestimate me, Asa," Solomon replied bluntly, calling him by name. "You know exactly why I wanted to destroy the other half—why I'd even break this time loop, scheme against my past self, deceive the entire universe and timeline just to reach that goal. But you're right about one thing: even if you're the good half of Chaos God Asa, I won't treat you any differently."
"Are you going to seal me somewhere? Kamar-Taj? Or some remote planet?" the boy asked, lifting his head curiously. "I'm curious how you even make these decisions. Does Bayonetta know what you're planning?"
"No. I'm going to let you go—let your soul begin reincarnation," the sorcerer replied with a smile. Before the boy's surprise could fade, Solomon continued, "You once possessed the power of Chaos God Asa. I believe you foresaw the crises humanity would one day face. Perhaps that's why Asa divided the Eye of the World between the Witches and the Sages."
The boy snorted noncommittally.
"But that's nowhere near enough. Humanity's problems don't just come from outer dimensions. Before your soul reincarnates, I need you to agree to a contract—one that puts us on the same side. I've said it already: even if you're the 'good' half, I don't trust you that much. Who knows if you'll lose your memory and go insane after taking on flesh—just like your brother did."
"Don't your trust issues ever interfere with your daily life? Have you ever trusted anyone, Solomon? And you're wrong about one thing—I've never thought myself above humanity. I'm just one of the multitude. But look at you—still denying your true nature," the boy laughed. "Maybe you need a therapist. Sincerely, given your cursed future."
Solomon ignored the suggestion. "Once you sign the contract, I'll release your soul and let you reincarnate as a human. I know what horrors my future self will unleash, but whether actions are justified depends on their outcome. To prevent humanity's extinction, I'll do things even your wicked half would find childishly petty—like a brat stealing candy. Take your time reading the contract. I've issued many before, but this one has the strongest binding force—it's guaranteed by my True Name."
"And if I don't sign?" the boy asked.
"Then you can let your imagination run wild," Solomon replied, pointing to the runes etched on the walls. Behind those walls, several sorcerers stood waiting, each holding scrolls imbued with ominous power. These had been personally inscribed by Solomon and the Sorcerer Supreme, using some of the same script found on the cannons and energy cores of the War Machines' shoulders. It was sure to displease Bayonetta, but Kamar-Taj never gambled on uncertainty. Only someone like Stephen Strange would do that (even if Strange was twice Solomon's age, Solomon still called him a 'kid'). But with Solomon in charge of the future, even someone with the title of Sorcerer Supreme wouldn't be allowed to toy with humanity's fate.
"Click." The boy smacked his lips in annoyance. "Let me see the contract."
To Bayonetta, Solomon said the boy had already reincarnated and was now just some baby hidden somewhere in human society. Technically true—but not entirely. Solomon and the Sorcerer Supreme had made other arrangements for this particular soul. Reincarnation would erase memory, yes, but not the essence of the soul. Half of Chaos God Asa's soul was still immortal, and the contract Solomon made with the boy would bind him through every reincarnation. Even memory loss wouldn't break it. In truth, the boy agreed with much of the contract—after all, he was the good half. Solomon's demands were merely reinforcing his previous duties and ideals. Still, being who he was, the boy hurled a flood of insults at Solomon—like calling him a "vampire who wants free labor."
"Honestly, I kind of enjoyed dealing with you, Solomon," the boy said just as the sorcerer began lifting the seal. "But I didn't expect you to be so ruthless to yourself."
"You saw a future?"
"Yeah. Detestable soul." The boy nodded. "Good luck. Goodbye."
"My lord?" Constantine asked softly.
"It's done. The contract is signed. Better to be prepared, even if it's never needed," Solomon waved dismissively, signaling the sorcerers in the next room to return to Kamar-Taj. He said nothing of what had just transpired. This chamber allowed no portals to open. In the ceiling of the corridor beyond, alchemical automatons—hybrid machines created during his spare time using Malbus's engineering and biotech—lay hidden. Upgraded versions of those used during the Dark Elf invasion, they could lock onto intruders with radar within milliseconds and descend like blades, slicing through flesh with their razor-sharp limbs.
Beyond that, summoned wraiths and shadows skulked invisibly, constantly hunting dimensional infiltrators. Layer upon layer of magical traps, powerful enchantments stabilized with rare materials, an autonomous security system, and a vibranium door several dozen centimeters thick—all protected the secrets within. Compared to that, the hundreds of variously sized and purposed turrets covering every corner seemed almost quaint. As one of the Immortal City's most secure locations, this prison was rivaled only by the biological labs that housed Celestial and Brotherhood secrets.
"Let's go. We still have a few funerals to attend."
"This time the Immortal City's manpower is exhausted. We need to find a new population source." After the communal funeral, Stephanie immediately sought out Solomon, who stood far away, watching in silence—he hadn't approached, hadn't greeted anyone. His presence now only reminded others of Fimbulwinter.
Stephanie had just awoken from a nap and looked visibly more energetic. "The next cohort of Sisterhood trainees needs a longer exam period. Even the girls already admitted need continued training. Tita's told me more than once how poor their tactical discipline is. We've been too focused on their individual combat ability. If we want real soldiers, we need to overhaul their education…"
Solomon nodded.
As usual, he wore his shroud-woven robes—but this was a new set.
(End of Chapter)
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