At the center of Black Stone City, within the vast temple.
Barton, once young, had long since grown old. He sat upright within the temple, facing five moderately sized statues, his eyes closed in quiet repose.
Under the dim yellow lamplight, the entire temple was silent and desolate.
But at that moment, a group of priests suddenly entered from outside.
Hearing the movement behind him, Barton, who had been sitting with his eyes closed, merely opened them slightly before slowly closing them again. He did not even turn around.
"You're here?"
The lingering echo of a sigh could not be concealed in his aged voice.
"Yes."
A low reply came from behind him.
"Can you tell me your thoughts and reasons?"
"Thoughts? Reasons?" The voice behind him was filled with mockery.
"Is blaspheming the gods not enough?"
The aged figure fell silent for a moment, then slowly turned to look at the figure behind him.
Those eyes seemed capable of seeing through people's hearts. When they met the other man's gaze, he could not help briefly looking away.
"Enough. But I want to know what you truly think, Godo. You don't mind saying a few more words to an old man who is about to die, do you?"
Barton extended his hand. The young man froze for a moment, then stepped forward with a complicated look in his eyes and helped the old man up.
He lowered his head, looking somewhat guilty—or perhaps ashamed—but he still spoke in a hollow voice.
"Why?"
"What do you mean, why?" the old man asked calmly.
"Why am I not the successor? Why can't it be me? Why does it have to be Erin! Father! High Priest Barton! I am your only son! Don't you think all of this is terribly unfair to me?"