Al left the valleys and mountains, his gaze fixed on the distant West. The Supreme Leaf’s 9th Mortal ring beckoned from the very edge of the worn map clutched in his hand. In those outer lands lay the heart of the Akselson clan, Agnethe's lineage. Though she had become a memory, her image still held sway over his heart, even after a decade of her death.
He felt compelled to inform her parents, to grant her spirit the peace it deserved. They had shared many things during their time together, and he was aware of her estranged relationship with them.
"After I set matters right on the 9th, I should visit the Supreme Leaf's 23rd mortal ring and give Romann a visit. I might get him to do something about the Rakh-ahtan working with individuals from Earth-like Taczlopolic, Lapaptzli, and Dark acolytes.”
The sun began its descent, casting long shadows over the chain of mountain peaks that embraced him.
"Is perfection found in the peaks? From a distance, they resemble pathways that disappear into the heavens. Where 1 and 7 merge into the 5. And 1 is always 3. 7 and 3 to infinity.” Al's thoughts hummed with an electric current surging from the base of his spine.
He repeated the mantra, "7 and 3 to Infinity," then added, "That infinity takes the form of 5, of 108... What the hell does that even mean?" He felt like he was grasping onto something within his reach yet evaded him. Like a scab in the back of his mind, he couldn’t scratch.
His journey continued smoothly, affording Al moments of reflection. He indulged in what had become a cherished morning routine, watching the morning sun paint the sky with shades of red and blue.
Every sunset carried the same tinge of melancholy, only for the moon to dispel it with its cool light. To stand as a silent witness to what felt like a miracle brought its bitter cold. Miracles should be celebrated.
Al had pondered the same questions that afflicted every soul who glimpsed their reflection in a mirror. "Who am I? What's the purpose of it all?" Questions that had long ago crossed his mind, only to be shelved and forgotten, now resurfaced in Al's mind.
He wasn't one to linger on questions he felt had no answer. Yet, a subtle shift was occurring. Perhaps those elusive answers weren't as far from his reach as he originally thought. The world was gradually shifting into a mechanism of intricate design.
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"If there's an architect, I hope to meet them someday..." Al murmured. He strolled alongside a serene lake, the water's surface mirroring the sky above. Up ahead, nestled within the landscape, lay a village. As far as he could discern, he had arrived at the Akselson clan's location.
But before Al could step into the village, an elderly woman with hair as silver as the moonlight emerged, flanked by two young men. She greeted him in an unfamiliar tongue. Perceiving Al's confusion, one of the young men, standing by the old lady's side, kindly translated her words into English. “Hello, do you have any business with this humble Village?”
“Yes, my name is Alexander. I'm looking for the Akselson Clan,” Al stated, his voice steady and clear. The elderly woman seemed to grasp his words and straightened, her presence carrying an air of authority. She murmured to the young man by her side, who said, “You're looking at it. This is Elder Reka Akselson, the clan's representative in this village.”
Al regarded the old woman, a hint of surprise crossing his features before a soft smile graced his lips. “I was a... close friend of Agnethe.” As he spoke her name, the elderly woman's eyes sparkled with recognition, echoed by the two young men at her side.
"Was? So, I take it she’s no longer with us?" one of the young men inquired, his voice tinged with gravity. The other young man, waiting for the Elder to speak, translated for her, “Agnethe is my sister. I began cultivating our clan's Titan Will a little earlier than she did. I saw her only once after that. We both understood the weight of treading the path to immortality. We both grieved each other's losses long ago.”
With that, the Elder Woman turned, guided by the supporting arms of the young men, and started to make her way back to the village. Al watched them recede, disbelief washing over him at their apparent indifference. In a louder voice, he declared, “It was my fault. She tried to help me and lost her life.” But the three figures did not so much as glance back, their forms receding into the distance.
Al's gaze fell to the ground, his hand curling into a tight fist. It finally dawned on him how selfish he was, even when he thought he was doing the right thing. When Mark died, he didn’t speak up because he was afraid they wouldn’t believe him.
And now, with Agnethe, the opposite had transpired. The paths of these two pivotal moments diverged drastically, yet both bore his fingerprints of blame. When he dared to speak, his words fell on deaf ears. When he chose silence, assumptions took root, painting him in the worst light. It was a bitter truth to swallow.
With a heavy heart, Al turned and walked away from the village. "Does it even matter what choices I make? What is fate? Opposite reactions, yet the feeling in me was the same. I punish myself more than they do… I guess I am as selfish as they come."
The road ahead stretched into uncertainty, mirroring the uncertain path within his soul. The need to reach the Supreme Leaf’s 9th Mortal Ring seemed to dissipate.
It was replaced by a newfound determination. He set his sights on the 23rd Supreme Seed, even on his map. He would need a new map, a detour to the farthest Supreme Leaf Mortal Ring in his current map.