Jala’s confusion was as dense as it could get. Where was he? What was he floating in right now? Who was this guy in front of him?
Even after several moments, he couldn’t quite regain himself. It was too odd—not when he had quite literally just died in brutal fashion. One couldn’t exactly expect a man to be in his right mind moments after getting his head bitten off by a beast he didn’t even see coming.
It wasn’t just the problem of the death, either. In those last moments, Jala realized just how all his last-ditch efforts would come to nothing in the end. There was something particularly daunting about it all.
He had tried his best, gone all out for those last few weeks, and in the end, he still lost—lost so terribly and wholly that he couldn’t even find an excuse for himself.
Sylas had all the disadvantages in the world and it still didn’t matter. He managed to find a way to win, while Jala could only snatch defeat from the jaws of victory.
Jala’s face suddenly twisted with disgust. He really hated that saying. It sounded so valiant for something that was ultimately so horrible.
Who would try to describe their loss so poetically? He had gotten his ass handed to him, that was the end of it.
Now the killer of his uncle was prancing around, likely with the halo of Galaxy Progenitor hanging over his head.
“Hey, hey. Don’t get all mopey on me. Psycho Syl tends to do that to people. When you can, stay out of his way.”
Jala’s eyes sharpened when he heard this. Psycho Syl? Was he referring to Sylas? This man knew Sylas?
For the first time, Jala looked at Alex, but it was hard to see much of him. His face was obscured by a mask, and he was shrouded in shadows. Honestly, he was only vaguely humanoid, and if not for the cheeriness of his voice, he would have been easily mistaken for a demonic menace of some sort.
“Who are you?”
“Me? Nobody special. I’m just riding a few coattails.” Alex smiled.
“Where is this?” Jala changed his approach, clearly feeling that Alex had no intention of answering.
“You don’t know? How interesting. I thought that since you appeared here, you would definitely have some deep understanding. It’s a lab.”
Jala’s heart jolted. He looked around again, trying to force his mind to focus properly.
He was in a vat, floating in some partially viscous liquid. It was semi-transparent, radiating a reddish color. Tubes and various instruments hung from it, and identical vats were stationed all around it. It felt like he was stuck in some sort of alien movie, a cross of organic and electronic technology forming everything in the surroundings.
However, what was odd was that the other vats were completely empty, at least from what Jala could see. But something in his mind told him that this conclusion was off, as though something was messing with his perception.
“… A lab for what?”
“Legacy, of course.”
Jala’s eyes opened wide again. The last time he had run into Legacy, it was one of the Professors, and he almost lost his life. In fact, that was what had triggered all of this.
Now that he thought about it, the Professor had said something about his great-grandfather owing a debt. And then one of the Thryskai seemed to have come to try and find him.
He had no idea why Israeal would be looking for him of all people. Why was he even aware of who Jala was in the first place? Just how many people were aware of his Hall Clan and who they were?
“Unfortunate. You’re so confused, I was hoping to learn more from you, but I guess not now.”
“What the hell is going on?” Jala was starting to lose his temper. He had been through so much, and Alex’s cavalier demeanor was putting him off.
At this point, it didn’t matter to him if he died again. He had already died once—what was there left to live for after this failure anyway?
The thought was so dark that it shook him awake even further. But then Jala realized something that made him cover his mouth, his eyes turning red.
What was this gut-wrenching feeling? Why did he have this pit in the middle of his stomach? What was wrong?
Alex tilted his head to the side, observing Jala for a while longer.
“Interesting. That’s very interesting.”
“SHUT UP!” Jala roared, the vat of liquid shaking wildly from side to side, its viscous waters churning and almost spilling out entirely.
“Your planet is done for. You’re probably the last of the Hall Clan right about now.”
Jala froze. “… You… you’re lying…”
“I’m sure you felt it just now. That’s why it’s interesting. Everything is so interconnected. It really sucks when so much of the path of your life is decided before you’re even born. I bet even Psycho Syl gets frustrated by all of that.”
Jala’s teeth set. Alex was speaking in riddles—or so it seemed. In reality, Alex wasn’t trying to be mysterious, it was just that he had no real obligation to explain things to Jala, and he was just thinking out loud.
Jala’s confusion was his own. What did it have to do with Alex?
However, the fact Alex was thinking out loud in the first place underlined something quite important. For whatever reason, Alex, at the very least, felt like having some relationship with Jala was better than ignoring him or killing him.
As for what that reason was, until he said it, none of them would know.
“Tell you what. Sign a contract with me for a period of 10 years. Consider it an alliance. I’ll tell you what you want to know if you do that.”
Jala recoiled. “You’re ridiculous. Who would agree to something like that?”
“Well, someone smart would. Psycho Syl, if he was in your position, and about as weak as you, would have probably already said yes. But I guess I can’t expect everyone to be as sharp as him, so I’ll tell you something else.
“You, and what I presume to be your Hall Clan, come from my world. Earth.”