A Journey Unwanted

Chapter 464 453: Insane again

[Location: Realm of Iofiel]

Even without seeing his face, it was not difficult to tell.

Grimm was not impressed.

Maybe it had to do with his silence or the way his head remained slightly angled rather than fully facing her, in how his posture did not shift even after her declaration.

"Considering how highly you seem to regard yourself," Grimm finally said, his voice calm but tinged with a dry tone, "it is mildly surprising that you would concern yourself with something as grounded as a witch organization. One would think such matters would fall far beneath your notice."

Iofiel did not hesitate.

"Even a being such as myself," she replied, her voice flowing with that same elegance, though there was a firmness behind it still, "does not find it necessary to diminish others in order to affirm her own standing."

She lifted a hand lightly, palm open as if presenting an absolute truth.

"To recognize something without placing it beneath oneself is not a contradiction, for me, it is but perspective. A benevolent and appropriately awe-inspiring being should be capable of both." Her chin lifted just slightly. "It would be rather unbecoming of me to act otherwise."

There it was again—that self-assurance.

Grimm let the silence sit for a second.

"You do enjoy kissing your own ass a lot, huh," he said flatly. "Quite a lot, actually."

Iofiel blinked once.

"Hm?" she uttered softly, her expression not breaking, though there was the smallest flicker of something behind her eyes. "I'm afraid I didn't quite catch that."

"Nothing," Grimm replied immediately, dismissing it with a slight motion of his hand as if it had never been said. There was no interest in repeating it.

He moved on without pause.

"What exactly places the Quaesitorum within your awareness?" he asked instead, the topic shifting back to something that was at least purposeful. "There are countless organizations and groups across the realms, no doubt. What makes this one noteworthy enough to earn your attention?"

Iofiel regarded him for a moment, then answered.

"They are among the very few granted clearance for inter-realm traversal," she answered. "A privilege not self-acquired, it is something bestowed. It was given to them directly by the Keepers themselves." She stressed the importance without changing her tone. "It is not something handed out lightly," she continued. "Authority of that scale carries trust in their utility. And above all, a greater purpose."

Grimm's helmet tilted slightly.

"And what purpose would justify such a grant?" he asked. "I assume the Keepers do not distribute power without expecting something in return."

"They do not," Iofiel confirmed with a composed nod. "The ability to move between the nine realms allows the Quaesitorum to act as something the Keepers themselves cannot fully be." She paused, letting that settle. "Observers."

Grimm said nothing, so she continued.

"They move where the Keepers cannot directly focus. They see what cannot be easily perceived. Each realm, as you may have already deduced, is not a fixed construct. They are expanding—constantly and endlessly. Their scale defies simple comprehension."

Her gaze sharpened slightly.

"The Architect shaped them, yes. That much is beyond dispute. Entire works of existence, sustained through power that cannot be replicated."

A breath.

"But even that level of power does not equate to omniscience."

Grimm gave a small nod at that.

"So the Keepers of Order," he said, tone pointed, "require assistance. Interesting. I had assumed 'all-powerful' implied a certain level of completeness."

Iofiel's eyes narrowed just slightly.

"You would do well to understand the distinction," she said, her voice firm again, the softness giving way. "Power does not inherently grant awareness. To shape reality and to perceive every detail within it are not the same act."

She held his gaze.

"They are, without exaggeration, among the most absolute beings within existence. But even so, there are limits to perception." A quieter note entered her voice. "They are not blind. But they are not all-seeing either."

Grimm hummed softly.

"Less impressive than expected," he remarked. "If they lack full awareness, then it stands to reason there are gaps. And where there are gaps, there is room for something else to exist. Something outside their control." He paused. "Something capable of breaking whatever fragile order they maintain."

Iofiel's expression hardened, however it was not dramatic, but it was enough to notice.

"You should be careful with that line of thought," she said. "Underestimating the Keepers is not merely foolish—it is dangerous. You and I, regardless of what you may believe, are insignificant compared to them."

There was no pride in her voice now.

Only fact.

"We exist within the structures they uphold. That alone should tell you enough."

Grimm was silent for only a moment.

"That only makes it more interesting," he said.

His arms folded once more as his gaze lifted—not to her, but to the endless sky above, where stars lingered in defiance of distance.

"I do not believe in anything being absolute," he continued, his tone more reflective but no less certain. "Not truly. Everything presents itself as permanent until it isn't. Structures collapse, and systems fail. Even concepts erode over time."

A slight pause.

"Nothing remains untouched." His voice lowered a fraction. "Eventually everything reaches an end. Would you not agree?"

Iofiel frowned.

"I suppose," she admitted after a moment, "that there are things even the divine cannot escape." Her gaze shifted slightly, as if weighing her own words. "Death, for instance, is not something that can simply be dismissed. It is inevitable."

Their conclusions aligned.

But the meaning behind them did not.

Grimm tilted his head slightly.

"I wonder…" he murmured, almost to himself, "if Death itself is truly as absolute as it appears."

Iofiel's brows drew together.

"That is a rather disjointed line of thought," she noted, her tone bordering on dry now, the divine composure thinning just enough to reveal her confusion. "You move from one concept to another without grounding any of them."

"I don't think it is," Grimm said, answering his own question without acknowledging her remark.

That only deepened her frown.

"Regardless of your personal beliefs," she replied, her voice steadying again, once more firm and unwavering, "everything that exists will eventually come to an end. That end is Death. It is the final point, that unavoidable conclusion."

Her gaze fixed on him.

"It does not discriminate. It does not falter. It remains when all else does not." A brief pause followed. "If there is one absolute within these realms, it would be that. Death endures."

Grimm considered that.

Then spoke.

"Where Death exists," he said slowly, "there is usually conflict." His tone shifted slightly. "The same pattern repeats itself. Over and over. Conflict without purpose. Violence without meaning. Death that serves no greater function beyond continuing the cycle." A pause followed. "It is dull."

The words lingered longer than it should have.

"I have seen it too many times," he continued. "Armies clashing, bodies falling and names forgotten before they even have the chance to matter. I commanded them, and yet, I knew nothing about them."

His voice did not change as he idly continued.

"Each one carried something. A reason, a belief, or a future they thought they were walking toward." Another pause followed. "They all ended the same way." His head lowered just slightly. "They became part of something larger. A pile, then a number, and eventually a statistic."

Silence followed.

"Death takes," he said. "It continues to take. Without pause or hesitation. And there is nothing anyone can do to stop it. But even so…" His gaze lifted again. "One day, I intend to defy it."

The words were not loud, but they did not waver.

Iofiel stared at him.

For once—truly stared.

("…He's serious.") The realization settled slowly. ("He's not even exaggerating.")

A small exhale escaped her before she could stop it.

"…Defy Death?" she repeated, the disbelief clear now, no longer hidden beneath refinement. A small scoff followed, quieter than expected but sharp all the same. "That is not ambition, that is mere absurdity." Her head shook slightly. "Even the greatest beings do not make such claims lightly. And you speak of it as though it is merely another curiosity to pursue."

A brief pause.

"That is beyond unreasonable and above all, it's ridiculous."

And yet she did not entirely dismiss it.

It settled over her slowly, that thought, it was just a little unsettling.

("He speaks the impossible so casually,") Iofiel watched him without blinking, her radiant blue eyes fixed on that dark, armored figure standing amidst her realm as though he belonged there as much as she did. ("…and yet he believes every word of it.")

There was no tremor in his voice, no wavering conviction and no hint that he understood the absurdity of what he was saying. That was what struck her most. It wasn't bravado. It wasn't defiance for the sake of it.

It was simply how he thought.

Her gaze lingered, studying him more carefully, as though trying to peel something back that wasn't visible on the surface.

("But this isn't conviction, not like the others.")

Her mind drifted, unbidden, to the other two Untainted she had observed within Álfheimr.

The one they called the God's Executioner.

The other—the Blood Starved Knight.

They were unstable in their own ways, broken and dangerous, but there had always been something anchoring them. Purpose or direction. Even if it was warped, even if it led them toward ruin, it was still something they followed.

They had goals.

They had meaning.

This man did not.

Grimm stood before her as though direction was insignificant. As though purpose was something one could discard without consequence. He did not chase anything. He did not serve anything. He did not even seem to struggle against the absence of meaning.

He simply moved toward whatever held his interest at the time.

And somehow, that unsettled her more than anything else she had seen.

("He is empty in a way I do not understand,") The thought came unwelcome. ("And yet he does not suffer for it.") Her brows drew together ever so slightly. ("What am I even supposed to make of someone like that…?")

She exhaled softly, steadying herself, before finally voicing the question that had been building beneath the surface of her thoughts.

"But why?" Iofiel asked, her tone less performative and more genuine than before. Her gaze did not leave him. "Why would you even wish to defy something like that, something as absolute as Death? What could possibly drive you to pursue something so fundamentally unreachable?"

There was a pause.

Grimm did not shift and he did not hesitate in the way most would when faced with a question like that.

"I suppose…" he began, his voice as flat as ever, "…because it might be interesting."

The answer landed without ceremony.

As though that alone was enough.

His hidden gaze met hers, even through the barrier of that helmet.

"Defying something that is not meant to be defied," he continued, his tone unchanged, yet carrying certainty beneath it. "Something that everything else bends to without question, something that no one even thinks to challenge."

A small tilt of his head followed.

"Is there not meaning in that?" he asked, not as a challenge, but as a simple observation. "In standing against something simply because it exists as an unquestioned constant?"

Iofiel stared at him for a moment longer than she intended.

Then her expression shifted.

"That is not meaning," she said, more firmly, her voice regaining some of its edge. "That is not purpose, nor is it ambition. It is irrational and dangerous. It is closer to insanity than anything I would ever call meaningful."

Her gaze sharpened slightly.

"You truly are an insane man," she added, her voice quieter but no less certain. "And I do not say that lightly. Those words you spoke, they were not hollow. You meant them. Entirely." She exhaled through her nose, the smallest crease forming between her brows. "I cannot fathom an individual such as you," she admitted.

Grimm's head tilted again, just slightly.

"Dropping the pretense already, hm?" he said, and though his tone remained flat, there was the smallest trace of something beneath it—amusement, perhaps, or mild curiosity.

Iofiel let out a small sigh, one that carried more meaning than she intended.

"I am not pretending," she replied, her tone smoothing out again. "I am merely stating a fact, whether you choose to accept it or not."

She straightened slightly, as though reassembling herself, returning to that composed, radiant presence she carried so naturally.

"But our conversation has reached its end—for now," she continued. "I will reach out to you again when it becomes necessary. Until then…" Her gaze shifted, briefly thoughtful. "It would be in your best interest to maintain contact with that witch," she said. "She may prove useful to whatever path you decide to wander next."

Grimm gave a small, dismissive motion of his head.

"If she proves interesting," he replied simply, as though that alone determined her worth.

Iofiel did not react outwardly, but there was the smallest tightening at the corner of her eyes.

"However," Grimm added, his voice cutting through the moment with the same indifference, "I find myself more interested in you."

That caught her off guard.

"What?" Iofiel's brows furrowed slightly, her composure slipping just enough to show genuine confusion.

"You do not seem content," he said, his tone unchanged. "You carry yourself as though everything is in its proper place, as though you are above all of it."

He allowed a small pause to settle.

"But it is not," he continued. "There is something you are holding in place."

Another slight tilt of his head.

"I wonder," he added, almost idly, "when that fragile composure of yours will finally break."

For a moment, there was silence.

Iofiel's lips parted, a response forming, but before she could speak, before she could push back, correct him or dismiss him—

He was gone.

Just like that.

One moment he stood before her.

The next, he simply did not.

Her realm remained unchanged. The stars still shimmered above. The strange, radiant flowers continued their soft glow beneath her feet.

But he was no longer there.

Iofiel remained standing where she was, her expression still caught in that brief moment of interruption.

Then, slowly, her lips pressed into a thin line.

Her brows lowered ever so slightly.

And for just a moment, her composure cracked.

("What an utterly insane man.")