"I will obey my Master. Still, is there any reason not to kill them?”
“We won’t kill them, Jack. A human life weighs more than the Earth, you know?”
To a mage, such words were appalling. The captives practically trembled with rage upon hearing them. What Flat said next, however, was the trigger. Until then, they had acknowledged Flat’s mystical ability, but still thought of him as “a spoiled rich boy who has Magic Circuits, but lacks a mage’s spirit,” and “a defective mage who can’t even get rid of his human softness.” It was his words and the look in his eyes in that instant, that forced them to reconsider.
“Human lives, these people’s lives included, are valuable parts for jumping clear of the Earth.”
His eyes. Flat’s eyes when he said that were neither the eyes of a mage, nor those of a mere human. They were filled holes, like something had fallen out, or like they saw through everyone. When they sensed that presence, unlike anything they had ever felt before, all the mages understood: the boy in front of them was no mage. He did, however, not seem to be any kind of monster or puppet; both his body and mind were unmistakably human. Still, the mages’ instincts told them that he was looking at a different “destination.” They could not comprehend what this man called Flat Escardos saw.
Berserker had felt the same thing in the several days he had spent with Flat, but he had deliberately refrained from mentioning it. He sensed that his Master was not something that could be described in terms of good and evil.