It isn’t malice he feels. No, it’s much colder, more indifferent yet it still stings with distaste. The gods are cruel and uncaring, so he’s come to learn. It isn’t as the Divine teaches; where are the kind and merciful beings that look after humans? Where were they when the world was in disarray? Now they expect the chosen to clean up the plague they had wrought. Sacrifice himself for something that got out of hand.
They are cruel, selfish, prideful creatures.
Ignis grits his teeth at the words, remaining silent as Bahamut speaks. He isn’t enough. What he has offered is not enough. He couldn’t help Noctis before, but certainly so long as their chances aren’t zero, he’ll keep trying. There has to be another way.
“Because a world without Noct isn’t one worth saving,” he conveys with confidence, steadfast in his words. His mind runs through his life together with his prince, his beloved friend. Ignis’ world is Noctis. He isn’t chained to this duty, it’s his conviction. His truth. Everything that he is, is due to Noctis. This Ignis Stupeo Scientia exists because Noctis Lucis Caelum exists. It’s a fact. And Ignis would destroy anything that would make it otherwise.
“The prophecy maybe known but it isn’t set in stone. A future that is born from Noct’s sacrifice isn’t one I will accept. I will tear this fate and prophecy apart.” Breaths fall even as he lifts his head towards the Astral. He knows now that negotiations are pointless. Bahamut won’t listen; the gods never have.
“If you will not accept my bargain then I will find another way to save him.”
He would do it or die trying.
Tales mortals wove of their kind partially based on fabrication. Gods whom dare not speak to the common man nor woman are left shrouded in mystery. The scholars and pious twist the original tales for a more pleasant narrative so they are not feared. The Draconian moved not a claw to change their minds. Worship came all the same— the only thing that mattered. The fealty of humanity to their creators without a speck of resistance to their divine plan. All things in order without the chaos injected by their resting sibling, Ifrit. The only one among their kind whom truly loved their children.
Momentarily eyes flash beneath the helm of steel. Ire? Hard to distinguish what little emotions the gods possessed when Bahamut’s face be hidden from view. Regardless he took not kindly to those whom defied his will going against his prophetic visions of the future.
“One man makes not the world. It is we whom are the world. We whom decide the fates. To defy the divine will is a sin.” One that required correction through punishment. A curse were the dragon’s favorite mode of sentencing. Souls dared to rise up or muddy the hands of fate.
Once many cycles ago Noctis created such an aberrations in their plans. Now he along with the Accursed and many whom made their acquaintance too were stuck in this loop. How foolish of the Scientia to attempt to rebel against what is writ in the star. “Sin shall not go unanswered.”