Noir thought for a moment,he could see the fear and swirl of emotions in Irva's eyes. He had already seen eyes like these before and he never wanted to see them again. He realised what he need to do. So he looked one last time at Irva and Tallo,then raised his head.
"Fine, I'll go with you. Cloud Solslade."
The moment Noir agreed to go with Cloud Solslade, a heavy silence fell between him and Irva. Her wounded eyes didn't plead for him to stay—but they didn't need to. He could feel it in every glance she cast his way, every tremble in her voice as she wished him good luck.
Cloud's ship hovered above them, dark and angular. Like a hunter descending upon its prey. The ramp lowered slowly, steam hissing from its seams.
"Nice," Cloud said with a smirk as Noir stepped on board. "Great choice."
Noir said nothing. He only walked in, each step weighing on him like lead. The doors hissed shut behind him.
The inside of the ship was pristine—cold, metallic, with chrome plating and glowing teal lights lining the walls. Cloud led him through the corridors, the silence eerie, the tension suffocating.
They arrived at a chamber. Once inside, Cloud pressed his hand to a panel and with a loud clunk, the massive door locked behind them.
Noir looked around. No windows. No exits.
"You're not planning to kill me, are you?" Noir asked.
Cloud turned, his long blue coat sweeping around him like a cape. He smirked again.
"What if I was?" he said mockingly. "Would you stop me?"
Noir didn't respond.
Cloud took a slow step forward. Then another. The dim overhead light cast sharp shadows across his scales.
"You know," Cloud began, circling Noir, "I've done terrible things. Truly. Things even monsters would hesitate to do. Assassinations. Bombings. Executions. Entire bloodlines... wiped clean."
His voice was calm, calculated. Cold.
Noir's eyes narrowed. "Why?"
Cloud suddenly stopped. His expression shifted. Then, with a mad twist of his mouth, he exploded.
"WHY? WHY?! FOR PEACE, OF COURSE!"
He shouted so loud the lights flickered. His foot smashed into a metal crate, sending it flying against the wall.
"You humans think peace is built on treaties. On handshakes. On justice. But peace is forged in pain! In power! Peace is what you build when all threats are eradicated."
Noir stayed silent, stunned.
Cloud's voice dropped again, low and tight. "This world... this galaxy is broken. The upper classes bleed the poor. Races war over scraps. The weak are trampled. And you think a speech will fix that?"
He turned, walked to the far wall, then paused. "So I took it upon myself. To burn the rotting wood and build something new."
Noir clenched his fists. "You killed Eptor. You destroyed Irva's home."
Cloud slowly turned back to him. "Yes. And it was necessary."
Noir's voice cracked. "You're insane."
Cloud's eyes flared. "You don't understand, Noir. I didn't want to know about you. But every person I kill... I see. Their memories become mine. Their regrets. Their joys. Their pasts."
He stepped forward, pressing a hand against Noir's chest.
"When I killed Eptor, I saw you. I saw Earth. I saw your sister... Aria. Your brother, Dvyne. Everything."
Noir's breath caught.
"And then I understood," Cloud continued, "you and I... we're not so different. You want to fix things too. You were exiled because you refused to play by the rules of a broken system. Me? I broke the system."
Cloud's voice softened. "So I ask you, Noir. How long will you keep pretending that you can save everyone with honor alone? The world doesn't need honor. It needs action."
He turned his back to Noir and stood tall. The silhouette of a king and executioner.
"I offer you a place beside me. We will bring true peace. Through domination. Through unrelenting force."
Noir felt a swirl of emotion erupt inside him. Hate. Confusion. Empathy. Could Cloud be right? Was peace truly impossible through kindness alone?
Cloud faced him once more. "So, Noir Zelion... will you keep wandering as an idealist with no power to change anything—or will you stand with me?"
The room went silent. No breath. No noise. Just the weight of one impossible choice.