[Current Balance: 374,939,763 scudi, 5 baiocchi]
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Alaric waited until night fell, ensuring the villa was quiet and most inhabitants were asleep or occupied elsewhere. Following the directions Matteo had given him, he found the hidden entrance to the Auditore Sanctuary. He descended the stone steps into the cool, silent underground chamber. It was larger than he'd expected.
Alaric walked slowly down the central aisle, reading the names carved into the stone plaques.
"Alessandro Auditore... Lorenzo Auditore... Edoardo..." His voice echoed softly in the chamber. He passed markers for names he vaguely recognized from Ezio's story, members of the Florentine and Monteriggioni Brotherhood.
"Antonio... Claudia... Mario..." He paused briefly at the grave marker for Ezio's uncle. Then, further down, near the back wall, he found it.
"Ezio Auditore da Firenze... there you are."
Alaric smiled faintly, a genuine expression of respect for the character he'd admired in his previous life, even now. He stood before the sarcophagus, looking up at the intricately carved statue depicting Ezio in his prime, clad in his iconic Master Assassin robes, hood shadowing his face, hidden blades visible on his wrists. The craftsmanship was superb.
He stared at the statue for a long moment, the silence of the tomb pressing in. Then, the thought surfaced. 'Should I?'
He knew he could. The Fuinjutsu: Ascendant's Seal knowledge he'd purchased granted him mastery over sealing techniques far surpassing anything known in the Naruto world, including the principles behind Edo Tensei, the Reanimation Jutsu.
It wouldn't even be difficult to acquire a suitable sacrifice; capturing some high-ranking Templar scum would be trivial, and no one here, not even the revived Ezio himself, would necessarily know the true cost of the ritual if done carefully.
But the ethics gnawed at him. Ezio had lived a long, incredibly full, often tragic life. He had fought, loved, lost, led the Brotherhood through its darkest and brightest hours, and finally... finally found peace in his retirement, dying quietly with his family, as depicted in Embers. To drag him back from that peace, even temporarily, felt like a profound violation.
'Am I just playing God at this point?' Alaric wondered, his gaze drifting from the statue to the name carved below. 'What is the purpose of this System? Why was I given these powers? What is my purpose in this world, anyway?'
He felt adrift sometimes, possessing power beyond imagining but lacking a clear, driving goal beyond exploration and ensuring his own survival and prosperity. 'Did Kami intend for me to act as some kind of deity, reshaping history according to my whims?' He frowned. 'But I don't want to be a God... I just want to be... me... Alaric.'
He stared at Ezio's sculpted face, imagining the conversations they could have, the knowledge Ezio possessed, the insights into the Pieces of Eden, the Isu, the very nature of this world that might differ from the game simulations he remembered. The temptation was immense.
He shook his head, running a hand through his blonde hair. "Ah, fuck it," he muttered to the silent tomb. "I can't do it… there's a line that I should not cross."
"Damn…"
—-
Later that same night, Alaric found himself unable to settle. The encounter in the Sanctuary, the weight of his power and the questions of purpose, left him restless.
He quietly made his way up to the villa's roof, finding a spot overlooking the dark and rolling hills of Tuscany, with the walled town of Monteriggioni as a good view.
He sat down, crossing his legs, leaning back against the cool terracotta tiles, and stared up at the vast, star-dusted sky. The moon was the only light source aside from the lanterns by the fence.
It was peaceful up here, silent save for the chirping of crickets and the distant hoot of an owl. Yet, the peace felt hollow.
'So much power...' he thought, tracing the constellations he recognized from his old life. 'Enough to change the world, to topple empires, to live forever...' He remembered the feeling during the spar, the ease with which he dispatched fifty trained Assassins, the casual way he treated Reuben, his oldest friend, enhanced by Alaric's own power and wielding an Isu artifact, as little more than a sparring partner.
He remembered the fear in the pirates' eyes, the absolute control he held over life and death with a mere thought, a flick of his wrist. Lastly, the two hundred deaths in the colston estate a few months ago.
'It's lonely.'
The thought struck him with surprising force. His consciousness, ripped from a future he vaguely recalled, stranded in this historical playground... it was isolating.
Yes, this was a fantasy world made real, a dream come true for anyone who'd played the games, read the stories. He had wealth beyond measure, abilities bordering on godhood, the freedom to go anywhere, do anything. But the connection... it wasn't truly there.
He knew things others couldn't comprehend, saw the world through layers of meta-knowledge and future insight that separated him. Reuben, Thulani, Jonathan... they were friends, loyal, strong thanks to him, but could they ever truly understand him? Flavia, Matteo... they saw his power, felt his strangeness, but they couldn't grasp the reality of his existence.
He was an anomaly, a paradox walking through history. All-powerful, yet fundamentally alone in his experience. The weight of his knowledge, the burden of his power, the sheer difference of his existence... it created a chasm no bridge, not even one made of Vulcan-forged iron, could span.
'Is this the price?' he wondered, gazing at the indifferent moon. 'Power and knowledge, in exchange for a genuine connection where I can become transparent? For belonging?'
He sighed, the sound lost in the vastness of the night.
He shook his head, trying to dispel the melancholy thoughts. Brooding wouldn't change anything. He lay back fully on the tiles, using his arms as a pillow, and closed his eyes, letting the cold air wash over him, hoping sleep would offer a temporary escape from the quiet burden of being Alaric Jonathan Kenway.
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