She had heard worse, much worse. And the truth stung, yes, but she was self-aware. That was the problem, wasn't it? She knew exactly what she was, and what she had done. But knowing was never enough to change.
"Shut up," Argider muttered, her voice thick with frustration.
"Why?" The man's voice was sharp, full of mockery. "Do you think, in this timeline, you can get better?"
She didn't know. In truth, she had no idea what her other selves had done. No clue if they were any better, or worse than this one. But she didn't hesitate to answer. "Yes."
A collective, almost disappointed breath rippled through the air. They all exchanged glances, some incredulous, others downright amused. Then, a single voice broke the tension.
"She can."
It was Alvator. The smug, insufferable voice of reason. He floated lazily around the man, spinning in the air like he had all the time in the world. "I've seen her progress. Baby steps, at least..."
