"Is that the path that you have chosen?"

Gabriel sighs, as he watches the prodigal son turn and leave. Slowly, the world around him begins to dissolve into an infinite plain of whiteness, the ground fading away until only the path Mithias walked remained. Before him stood a door made from old black wood, covered in carvings of dragons and other mythical beings. It seemed familiar, as if it had been ripped from some grand mansion, and Mithias realized that this was the door that would lead to his destination.

"It would be easier, you know. Stepping over the bodies of the innocent. Without the determination to face your opponent, no matter the cost.... well, the chances are you'll lose. You do know that, right?"

No longer, was the voice that of Gabriel. rather, it was significantly deeper, if more benign. Rather, it sounded old, and tired. Mithias got the impression that if he were to look back, he would no longer see the red-clad figure of his father. In reality, of course, it had never been his father at all. That much was clear, as Mithias' repressed memories once more flooded into his mind. His identity, his experiences, his reason for being here.....

Bug stood beside him, too, as if he had always been there. It was only now that he was realizing it.

"Are you prepared to live according to those ideals, regardless of the price?"