Pavor suddenly felt a surge of panic for the first time, and ushered Xarian to stand up.
"What are you doing? What does a god like you doing, bowing to a mortal? Get on your feet!" He commanded.
Xarian stood up, slowly and dutifully. "I am no god, my Lord. I may have switched fates with you, but I still see myself as a regular mortal….. And you as the true Lord of Dread."
Pavor didn't know what to feel about that sentiment. He also treats the title of Lord of Dread as his own, but at the same time, it felt like the title defined him, not that he defined the title. The Lord of Dread was more than himself, it was a purpose. A function.
A function he no longer serves due to receiving the fate as the 'Champion of Amore'.
But he couldn't accept that title either, even when this 'system' was making him do things to follow that role.
Deep down, he still wanted to rule over the dread of mortals and feed in their misery.
"The Lord of Dread is now your identity." He told Xarian. "You cannot call me that anymore when it is no longer mine."
Xarian mulled it over, then said. "Then do you accept your identity as a hero now, my Lord?"
"No." Pavor replied.
"Then that is not your identity." Xarian said. "And it is not mine anymore either. I do not wish to claim it, and if you do not wish to claim the title of Lord of Dread, that is alright. We have lived for so long having identities decided for us, not something we have chosen. Perhaps in this life, we are at more liberty to choose."
Identity was such a complicated thing. Pavor never had to decide his own identity before, because he was a god.
And wasn't he also forced by this new life to an identity he didn't choose anyway?
There's no difference from when he was the Lord of Dread to when he was the Champion of Amore. Fate was always the one that decided who you are and what you are for.
"Gods serve a singular purpose. Humans do not." He told the former hero, his face casting shadows. "Only humans can brazenly say they can choose their fate, their identity. When you and I both know that is false."
Xarian was quiet, and his silence seemed to be more of a polite recognition of Pavor's point of view. But he did not agree or disagree, perhaps out of respect or understanding.
He could empathize with the way Pavor thinks.
Instead, he inquired: "Why have you only come now, my Lord? I expected you to have returned to the Outlands as soon as you woke up, but instead you performed the tasks of a Retaliator today….. Despite the moments that you have caused the people's suffering."
'So he could see it all.' Pavor thought.
"Yes, my Lord." Xarian replied. "I am gifted with the skills of a god, but not as the Lord of Dread. They were simply enhanced versions of what skills I had before."
Pavor's eyes widened. "You can read my mind."
He could not read minds as a god, only see through the traumatic past of others and feel their dread. He also could not see things beyond the Outlands, as his vision was blocked by the power of Amore.
"Yes. Or more accurately, I can read expressions really well so that I can accurately gauge what one was thinking. It's not to say that your mind is easy to read from your face alone, since you have a very unreadable face, my Lord. I can tell that you are used to hiding your emotions."
Pavor began to be more cautious of his facial expressions, but then decided it was ultimately useless.
If Xarian already had that skill as a hero and it was enhanced to the level of a god, it would really be impossible to hide what was truly in his mind while facing him. He can practically read the minds of anyone he looks at.
"What about knowing what was happening in Amoreas? Is that part of your skill too?" Pavor asked, curious to compare skill sets with the former hero.
"Well, it's more of an intuitive sense towards a person of my choosing." Xarian explained.
He added. "Back then, I could use it to locate my fellow Retaliators, or to sense danger around someone. But it was not as strong as it is now, because when I used it on you, my intuitive sense was so clear that I could almost see what was happening to you in my mind's eye."
"What about sensing others' fear? Can you see through their trauma?" Pavor asked.
Xarian said: "I can only sense their emotions in simplified form, but not deep enough. It's like only seeing through the surface of the sea….. I can sense when the tides are rolling but not why or what's underneath."
Pavor found this interesting indeed. So Xarian has a Face Reading and Intuitive Sense skill, but he does not have Trauma Searching skill he had.
Yet their skill sets were similar enough to serve the same functions they needed. Face Reading and Intuitive Skill would help him perform the duties expected of a Lord of Dread, knowing the fear of others, even at a basic level.
Yet he does not feed on fear. So how does he gain more powers?
"Hope." Xarian said.
"Hope?" Pavor frowned. "You feed on people's hope?"
"Not feed, but I am empowered by them. The hope of the people is not depleted when I acquire them, and it does not affect them negatively. In fact, it seems to be a mutual gain as my powers are always that of good, therefore creating an even stronger aura of kindness and protection around them."
Pavor came to a realization. "Ah….. Is that why you took in the suicidal scamps as guests?"
"It is not the only reason." Xarian went to look over one of the holes in the cave that served as a window to view the western part of the Outlands.
He put his hands behind his back, and said. "I am simply... drawn the people who lack hope. I want to help them in any way I can. This is why even though I am no longer the Hero of Erosith, I cannot accept the title 'Lord of Dread' either. I do not wish to bring more misery into this world, there's more than enough as it is."
"Pfft, you already had gotten rid of the cause of that misery, son." Pavor scoffed. "But unfortunately, your words before striking me must have caused this switch."
But Xarian just turned to him, smiling with sympathetic eyes.
"You are not the cause of misery, my Lord. You are in fact one of its greatest victims. You are the most miserable of them all."
This has caught Pavor aback. Why does this man pity him so much?
He was a god who tortured and slaughtered for many years, whose very name was even avoided to be spoken by most common folk and was considered as bad luck.
That was why they insisted on calling him the 'Lord of Dread'. And anyone who dared to call the name Pavor without being a powerful Retaliator must be one of the suicidal ones like Fauche the Liberian and the other guests.
And he relished the strife he had caused. How can he be miserable?
"You don't even realize why that is, my Lord. Or perhaps you do but choose to deny it. You have painted yourself as everyone's enemy, not just in their minds but on your own as well. You tell yourself this was the path you chose, that satiating your hunger for pain was the only thing that can bring you happiness."
"Because it is." Pavor scowled.
"Only because you made yourself believe that—"
"You do not know me, mortal. You may be able to read my face so well that you can sense my thoughts, but you said it yourself, that is only what lies on the surface."
Xarian closed his mouth, like a scolded child and said no more.
Pavor smirked and felt the urge to return the favor. Give his own analysis of this former hero's character.
"What about you? This desire to give hope to others…. To help them..... And yet you have conceded to a prophecy that was given before you were even born. Aren't you equally as hopeless as the ones you want to help? You have slain me even when you said that was not your intention, and convinced yourself that it was out of mercy."
He tilted his head. "Aren't you only good because you made yourself believe that?"
Xarian was visibly struck by these words, and looked away.
"I am not… good. I was not a good man."
Pavor narrowed his eyes, and could sense something behind the hero's eyes. Something had resurfaced in Xarian's mind….
A painful memory.
A trauma.
Pavor licked his lips and approached him, like a hungry beast ready to pounce. He went to grab Xarian to use his Trauma Searching skill on him—
When the guests entered the room, and saw him laying his hands on their host.
Recognizing his sword and his clothes as the prince of Erosith, they all exclaimed:
"It's the Champion of Amore!"
"He is hurting our Lord!"
"Get him! We must protect the Lord now matter what!"