"My young friend... death is the only honest currency in politics. The weak bleed. The strong decide who bleeds." His voice carried weight, not loud but firm, shaped by conviction rather than emotion. "You think I enjoyed watching German boys die by the millions? You think it did not tear at my soul?" There was no hesitation in the way he said it, only certainty.

"But I knew... I knew that if we did not act, the world would rot from within. It does not change through gentle words or comforting lies. It changes through will. Through iron. Through fire."

He fell silent for a moment after that, the intensity settling instead of fading, then looked back at Razeal with a different kind of focus less about what had been said, more about what came next.

"Before anything else," he continued, tone shifting slightly, "you must answer something far more important. Is the world you see... even worth changing? What exactly are you trying to fight for?"

Razeal didn’t respond immediately. "And how is that decided?" he asked instead.

"It is simple," he replied, without pause. "Tell me how the world looks from where you stand. Truthfully. Who is safe? The strong? The weak? Or both?" His gaze didn’t move.

"If only the strong are safe, then the world is already broken. Tell me do people have enough food? Enough wealth to live without fear? Do they receive equal opportunity, equal education? Does your system your rulers, your power structures provide what is necessary? Protection, stability, growth? Or do people survive on their own?" His words came one after another, measured, deliberate. "Are there murders? Robberies? Crimes? Do people kill each other for scraps while others stand untouched? Answer me that."

Razeal listened without interrupting. The questions weren’t complicated, but they forced a direction he couldn’t avoid. He didn’t answer out loud yet. Instead, his mind moved through it piece by piece.

This world... was not like his old one afterall.

Safety? That one was simple. Only the strong were safe. Not always absolutely, but enough to define the rule. Strength whether in magic, status, or backing decided whether you lived with stability or constant risk. The weak didn’t have rights. They had conditions.

Food, essentials, stability... those weren’t guaranteed. There was no structure built to provide them universally. If someone had access to them, it was because they earned it, bought it, or belonged to something that found them useful. Kingdoms and factions did provide resources but not out of responsibility. It was investment. They raised soldiers, mages, and assets, not citizens.

Education? A luxury most definitely. Knowledge wasn’t something distributed it was controlled.

Even.. Places like Arkevil Academy proved that clearly. The greatest academy in the strongest empire, yet entry wasn’t open. It required talent, selection, approval. Even then, it was still a privilege, not a right. There was no system ensuring everyone could learn. If you couldn’t access it, you stayed where you were.

Protection? That was more complicated, but not by much. Kingdoms enforced order within their territories, yes. There were knights, soldiers, patrols. But that protection existed to maintain the system itself, not to protect every individual equally. Stability for the structure mattered more than justice for the person.

Two peasants killing each other? Likely ignored unless it disrupted something larger. A noble killing a commoner? Not even a question. That was accepted. A norm?

Until the numbers became too large... until someone powerful was offended... only then did it become a "problem." Not because it was wrong, but because it crossed someone stronger. That was the real line in this world. Not law presence. Not justice.. but consequence.

Nobles could act freely unless they disturbed something bigger than themselves. The imperial family? They stood above even that. They could erase lives without question. The only thing that restrained anyone wasn’t law it was fear. Fear of retaliation. Fear of someone stronger noticing. Fear of divine punishment, maybe. But not law. Not order.

Razeal didn’t speak, but his thoughts moved steadily. He knew this wasn’t theory. He had seen it. Lived in it.

He himself had killed before hundreds, easily and never once had he worried about authorities, investigations, or punishment. There was no police.

No system that would come after you unless you mattered enough. If someone important died, there would be noise. If not... the body would be buried, forgotten, or ignored. And that was it. Was that even a crime in the first place? Or just... reality?

This world held itself together on unstable pillars power hierarchies, fear, and the constant threat of something worse. Monsters roamed freely. Rifts opened without warning. Entire populations could vanish overnight if they lacked strength. Survival wasn’t guaranteed. It was earned, or stolen.

And most people... were simply left to endure it.

He couldn’t deny it.

He didn’t even try.

"...Yeah," the thought settled, quiet and certain. That’s just how this world is.

From the silence alone, the man in front of him understood.

"I’ll take that as your answer," he said, exhaling slowly. "It seems the world has not changed as much as people like to believe."

His gaze drifted slightly, not unfocused, but distant like he was looking at something that no longer existed.

"In my time... my country was broken," he continued. "Crushed under the weight of a war it did not bear alone. Buried under impossible debt. Stripped of resources. Humiliated. Starving. Crime everywhere. No work. No dignity." His voice remained steady, but there was something sharper beneath it now. "People carried suitcases full of money... just to buy a loaf of bread."

"Germany was in darkness."

Then his eyes returned to Razeal.

"And so we chose to fight."

There was no hesitation in that statement.

"I may have been the spark," he added, "but it was the will of the people that burned. Their pride. Their anger. Their need to rise again." His posture straightened slightly. "We rebuilt. From nothing. From ruin. Through blood, through sacrifice... we stood again."

Another pause.

"We lost," he said, plainly. No bitterness. Just fact.

"But..I am certain Germany stands strong now."

There was conviction there. Not forced. Not defensive.

"Even if millions suffered... I believe my people would still understand why we did what we did."

"Even if they suffered... I believe the people of my land would still thank me."

He was wrong. Somewhere beneath that certainty, he understood it too. He had chosen the wrong path he knew that much. But regret didn’t follow. Not in the way it should have. There was no collapse, no hesitation, no attempt to distance himself from what he had done. Instead, there was pride. A quiet, unshaken pride in the choices he had made and the things he had been willing to do to see them through.

Razeal listened, and for a moment, something shifted in him. The logic settled into place in a way that felt disturbingly clear.

"Yeah... now that you say it like that," he said slowly, his tone thoughtful rather than impulsive, "Making me do this could make the world better too." The idea didn’t feel forced in his mind it unfolded naturally, as if it had been waiting there. "I can fix things. It won’t be a problem."

But even as that thought formed, another followed, quieter but sharper. It didn’t demand attention it simply lingered. He didn’t have to become a villain to achieve it. Why force control onto people without giving them a reason to accept it? Maybe there was selfishness in him, but it didn’t have to define the method. If he could build something genuinely better something stable, something people could see and feel then they wouldn’t need to be conquered into submission.

They would choose it.

And if that happened... if people were truly better off under his rule... then it wouldn’t just stop at borders. Other nations wouldn’t resist they would hesitate, then question, and eventually... some might even hope. Hope that he would come for them too. Not as a destroyer, but as someone who could offer the same advantages they were watching from afar.

He didn’t need to become a tyrant just for the sake of control. He didn’t need to act like a villain because power allowed it. There was another path one that still led to the same end, but with structure instead of chaos. He could build something people would want to follow. A system that worked. Stability, growth, opportunity. If people chose it on their own... then resistance would shrink on its own. He didn’t need blind destruction. He needed direction.

That realization alone made something inside him feel lighter, more grounded. For the first time since stepping into this place, he felt like he wasn’t just reacting he was deciding.

He glanced at the man in front of him again. Coming here had been the right decision. He had never seen the system’s "villains" as anything more than a source of power before tools, nothing else. But this... this was different. There was something to learn here. Something practical. And that alone made it worth it.

Hitler watched him for a few seconds, then gave a small, acknowledging nod, as if he could see that shift.

"Good," he said. "Now that you understand the world must change, that is enough reason for a ruler to act."

Then his tone sharpened slightly.

"But now answer this."

He stepped forward once, measured.

"Better for whom?"

The question landed heavier than the previous ones.

"For the masses? The weak who drag everything down? For those who exploit from the shadows?" His gaze hardened, not louder, just more precise. "Or for the ones who build, who create, who shape the future? The strong."

He didn’t pause long enough for comfort.

"You must choose. There is no neutral path in ruling the world."

He began pacing slowly three steps, turn, three steps back hands moving in short, controlled gestures, like he was used to structuring thoughts through motion.

"I tried restraint once," he added. "Mercy. It changed nothing. I was called a monster regardless." A brief glance back at Razeal. "So I stopped pretending otherwise."

Razeal listened without interruption, then nodded slightly. "I understand what you’re saying," he replied, calm, not defensive. "I’ll keep that in mind."

He paused briefly before continuing, choosing his words more carefully this time.

"I might have my own reasons for doing this," he admitted. "Not everything has to come from... some higher purpose. Most people don’t act for others in the first place."

That part was simple truth.

"But how it’s done matters," he added. "That’s what decides how it’s seen."

His gaze steadied.

"A common man kills someone he’s a criminal. No matter what the other person did." A small pause. "A soldier kills on a battlefield he’s called a hero. Because it’s within a system. A role. A justification people accept."

He didn’t need to elaborate further.

Hitler nodded once. "Exactly."

Razeal continued, more certain now. "So I’ll build something that works. Something that actually improves things... while still reaching what I want."

There was no contradiction in his tone.

Just direction.

Hitler studied him again, more quietly this time, then gave a small, almost dismissive breath.

"As for what you said you fear..." he said, shifting the conversation back, "That part is unavoidable."

His expression didn’t change, but the weight behind his words did.

"I have heard the same hesitation from countless leaders. ’People will die.’" A faint scoff. "As if they are not already dying."

He stopped pacing.

"You speak of making the world better. Then understand what that means."

A short pause.

"Better is not gentle."

He looked directly at him.

"Better is surgery."

His voice remained controlled, but firm.

"You cut away what is failing... or the whole body collapses. I cut. And they called me a butcher."

No justification. Just statement.

"The deaths you fear?" he continued. "They already exist. Slow, unseen, constant. Through weak systems. Through decay. Through leaders who allow collapse instead of acting." 𝓯𝙧𝙚𝒆𝙬𝙚𝒃𝙣𝙤𝒗𝓮𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

His gaze didn’t waver.

"My way was direct. Fast. A storm instead of rot."

Another pause.

"You think you can build something greater... without pain? Foolishness.."

A slight shake of his head.

"That is not how the world works.. The strong wolf does not apologize to the sheep."

"As for you are asking for advice, then keep this in mind."

"First never apologize for strength. The moment you say "I am sorry millions died," you have already lost. Frame it as necessity. History does not remember hesitation; it remembers outcomes. And outcomes forgive what hesitation cannot."

"Second find your Volk. Your people. Not all men are equal, no matter how loudly the world insists otherwise. Identify those with the sharpest minds, the strongest will, the clearest purpose, and make them your blade. The rest... they will either serve as tools or stand as obstacles. There is rarely anything in between."

"Third control the narrative before you ever act. Before the first shot is fired, before the first order is carried out, the story must already belong to you. Radio, film, newspapers those were his tools. Now there is something greater. The internet. Use it the same way, only better. Make them admire you even while they fear what you are about to do. If they already believe in you, they will justify you.

"Fourth never trust the old powers. The bankers, the aristocracy, the church, the ideologues dressed in new language but carrying old intentions. They will smile, speak of cooperation, even offer help. All the while, they are measuring where to place the knife in your back."

"And finally..."

He leaned in, close enough that the faint scar above his left eye became impossible to ignore, his voice dropping to a near whisper, sharp and unyielding.

"If you flinch at blood... if your heart trembles when the weak scream... then step aside. Let someone stronger carry it. The world does not change through hesitation. If you believe it needs reshaping, then it will demand people like you to do it. Remember this once you begin, there is no retreat. The world will call you a tyrant, a madman, a devil. But if you succeed if you truly remake it then even long after you are gone, they will call you a savior."

Razeal didn’t interrupt. He didn’t react outwardly either. He simply took it in, letting the words settle where they needed to. Not all of it was something he agreed with but the structure, the weight behind it, the reality of consequence... that part he kept.

"Now tell me," the man continued, a faint edge of amusement returning to his tone, "do you have the resolve for what you’re planning? Or are you still circling the same hesitation?"

Razeal gave a small nod. "I got what I came for."

That was his answer.

There wasn’t anything else to add.

"Alright, sir," he said after a brief pause, his tone steady again. "I should leave for now. There are people who might need me." He glanced slightly to the side, then back. "If not... I would’ve stayed longer."

He extended his hand for handshake.

Hitler laughed quietly and took the offered hand in a firm grip. "Keep visiting me. Come back whenever you have problems. And a selfish request, perhaps, but I would want you to take care of Germany if you can. Make it better."

A jolt ran through Razeal’s body as their hands met, goosebumps rising along his arm. Even without any magical power, the man’s presence carried a weight that was impossible to ignore. He kept his face composed, but inside he felt the strangeness of the moment fully. This was a handshake with Hitler himself.

"I’ll see what I can do, sir," Razeal said, the words coming out a little more formal than he intended. It felt strange, addressing him like that, but he didn’t correct it. He didn’t add anything else either.

The other man let out a quiet breath, something close to a sigh, though it didn’t sound weak. "If only I could step back into our world," he murmured, almost to himself. "To shape it properly... but that is not mine to do anymore haha."

Their handshake lingered for a second longer before he let go.

Razeal turned, ready to leave, but paused after a few steps.

The thought came naturally.

Should I take him with me?

He didn’t dismiss it immediately. There was logic to it. Experience like that understanding of mass control, influence, structure it could be useful. Even if the man himself lacked power here, that didn’t matter. Strategy didn’t need strength to be dangerous.

Would he be helpful in a world like this?

Razeal considered it properly.

A B-rank in the system. Not physically threatening. No mana, no combat value. Bringing him out wouldn’t be difficult. Managing him wouldn’t be difficult either.

But that wasn’t the real issue.

He exhaled slowly.

Ideas are harder to control than people.

That was the problem.

The man behind him wasn’t just experienced he was rigid. Built on a different era, different assumptions, different conclusions. Some of it was useful. Some of it... wasn’t something Razeal intended to carry forward.

This world wasn’t the same.

And whatever Razeal was going to build, it wouldn’t be shaped by someone else’s past.

He shook his head lightly.

No.

Not because he couldn’t.

Because he shouldn’t.

"Old minds don’t bend easily," he thought, almost idly. "And some just shouldn’t."

That was enough.

Without turning back again, Razeal stepped forward as he exited the system.

——