5 - Divergence

“Sir, this is just my opinion, but…”“Yeah, no way in hell that kid's got amnesia. He's jus’ hidin' somethin'.”

Two men walked down the dimly lit corridor, talking in a low tone. The one with a scarred face held his arms behind his head, in an almost childish manner, while the other walked behind him with a rigid posture. They had just left the medical room in which Arthur was situated, discussing what he had told them.

“And you let him lie to you… To your face…?”“Calm yer horses, Grimm. Ya know how I work. If keepin' up this lie helps his talent grow brighter, I'll play the part of the fool.”“Sir, you… Really should stop getting so comfortable with prisoners…”Replying only with a snarky laugh, Grimm massaged the bridge of his nose. By now, he was used to his superior's way of doing things, and trusted his gut feelings- after all, they were the product of an ‘Innate Gift’, something even more obscure than magic. However, he did not completely approve of his mindset, giving even prisoners favors so long as they held potential.

That was the case with Arthur.

—

“Freedom… I wonder, is he just trying to trick me…?”Hidden by the privacy curtain, the young elf murmured something to himself, thinking back on the words the guard had spoken to him. He hadn't told him much, just enough to catch Arthur's interest, but not enough to give him something concrete. ‘Show your worth, and I'll give you back your freedom’. In other words, ‘Get strong, and you can walk out of here’. But, what was his true objective?

Thinking back on what little Ayn had told him about this place, it was a prison inside the Teiws Empire. And following that same information he had been given, Teiwesians would use anything at their disposal to grow the strength of the Empire. Surely, that would include children, too, or prisoners and ‘merchandise’. After all, that was what Arthur was, at the moment: merchandise. Waiting to be bought by someone rich enough to afford an elf.

The man named Sol, wanted to turn Arthur from ‘merchandise’ to an ‘asset’. That was his theory. The freedom which Sol was dangling in front of his eyes was, most likely, only partial freedom. From a prisoner to a soldier, having to follow an extremely rigid regime, or a servant of the army, or similar situations. However, he would still prefer that, over being sold to who knows who, or remaining in that prison for an indefinite amount of time.

But why exactly him? He saw some degree of ‘potential’, whatever that meant, in the youth. Potential, supposedly linked to his error in ‘flowing Ark’. Well, in his case, he was ‘flowing Archê’, which was the reason he was bed bound at the moment, that much he had figured out. If Archê was the power source, and Ark was the refined energy, then his act of strengthening his body was probably comparable to using a lightning rod, during a stormy night, to power a toaster. The bread, aka his poor joints, would surely come out fried and burnt to a crisp.

And on the topic of his fried joints, they hurt. Maybe it was due to the Obedience Seal being so present and visible on his flesh, he reasoned that was the reason for his mannequin-like appearance, but that outburst of unrefined Archê seriously hurt his body. Not only in the vague way the rugged man mentioned, ‘busting his Core’ - which he had still not completely figured out what it was -, but in a more physical, and hurting, way.

Moving his arms around, it felt as if he had damaged every muscle, as if needles were piercing every nerve and inch of his flesh. Well, that was an exaggeration, he just liked being dramatic, but it wasn't too far off from the actual aching he felt. More importantly, if it hurt that bad, and he had been told he needed to get in better shape, did that mean he didn't have to work? Perhaps, that was a way for Sol to try and gain his trust. Arthur exhaled, murmuring to himself.

“If you want to use me and my ‘potential’... I'll just have to steal this body's freedom back.”

He smirked. Sol wanted to nurture his potential for his own use, he wanted to make use of his talent. And he would let him. In exchange, he too would use the guard's authority and favors for his own benefit. From what little he had seen of that man, he probably reached the same conclusion- if he wanted to make use of Arthur's ‘brilliance’, he was going to have to let himself be devoured by the youth's greed.

As for the time he'd need to be recovering, he would make full use of it. Closing his eyes, and shutting off every outside sensation, dipping back into that instinctive state, finding himself back in the abyss. He would figure out alone how to best utilize Archê and Ark, he would uncover alone this brilliant talent which the man so much liked to mention.

“It'll shine so much, you'll be blinded the next time you see me.”

Speaking to himself once again, he fully immersed in the depths of Archê.

—

“Shit, shit, shit…”

Inside a dark cell, a short haired elf cursed himself under his breath, while pacing circles in the small room.

In his second day of consciousness, that otherworldly moron had managed to go and attract the attention of a high ranking official of Teiws, probably blow up his own Core, and be taken off to a ‘medical bay’. For what he knew, that could have meant they had took him to some secret torture chamber, or off to indoctrinate him to join the Teiws army. He knew, for a fact, that the body he was inhabiting had incredibly high levels of potential, but he didn't expect for the transmigrator to utilize it that way.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

In part, it was his fault, too. The reason he walked off before fully explaining how to utilize Ark in a safe way to Arthur, was due to a petty desire to test the other elf. Knowing that body's capabilities, he was expecting muscle memory to lead him to the proper usage, but it turned out not to be enough. No, most likely, he didn't use muscle memory at all. He had cast a glance or two towards Arthur, and saw him fully focused on manipulating his Archê. With what little knowledge he had been given, he visualized and managed a method to flow Archê in his body.

He was scared of that level of adaptability. Understanding the theory was one thing, but he managed something which most people, having lived and having got used to synthesizing Ark before utilizing it, would find nigh, or completely, impossible. Though that was understandable: Arthur wasn't from this world. He wasn't used to the feeling of Ark flowing through his essence, strengthening his body in a natural way. That much, could be considered normal.

What was abnormal, was the boy ignoring the warning alerts which surely went off in his body. Even if his consciousness was that of a transmigrator, the body still belonged to that world, and was a body that many times had used magic. A body which, even if led by bright ignorance, surely wouldn't allow itself to self-destruct in an experiment.

He was scared of Arthur's adaptability, but even more than that, of his lack of instincts of self preservation. Did he not feel the searing pain of Archê burning his joints and muscles? Did he not shoulder the crushing weight of a limitless energy flowing through his body? Did he not witness the blinding sparks, as if lightning was using him as a conduit? Ayn gripped his fist tightly.

He had tried, once, to wield Archê that same way Arthur mistakenly did, and failed. And yet, that boy coming from another world, managed the impossible to do the ordinary. All that, only to end up with a possibly damaged beyond repair Core. He knew that it was a possibility, because it had happened to him, too.

He remembered his failure, the pain that it brought, the anger he felt at himself, and most importantly, the despair when he tried to cast magic, only to barely be able to create Ark. One's Core is, according to some researchers and many wielders of Archê, the most important part to wield magic. A supposed invisible organ, located beside the heart, where one's internal reserves of Archê are gathered. And like the heart purifies one's blood, a Core refines that Archê, limiting the limitless energy's strength and synthesizing it into a more easily malleable one, Ark.

For months after that single failed attempt, it took Ayn minutes to refine enough Ark to cast even simple spells, a process which was normally nigh instantaneous. If the consequences of failure were that dangerous, he didn't dare imagine the consequences of fully going through with the process, of completely shouldering the raw, unfiltered might of Archê coursing through the young elf's body.

“I should… Go check up on that moron.”Assuming that man wasn't being sarcastic, he had given Ayn the permission to visit Arthur in the room he was recovering. Sure, he'd have to first find out the place, then convince the guards to bring him there, but if he wasn't lying, it shouldn't be too difficult. Still, he'd have to use his free time, for that purpose. Between the daily meals, after his work hours, he should have enough time to make his way there. Hopefully, it would be enough time to figure out in what condition Arthur was in.

In the worst case, if Arthur had truly been damaged beyond repair, then their plans would become harder to see through. He was the back up, not the main actor. Snapping him away from his thoughts would be the sound of footsteps walking down the corridor, probably a guard. An idea popped up in his mind.

“Um… Sir, I'm… Really sorry to bother you…”“...”Passing by his cell, the guard shot an annoyed look at the short haired boy, but upon noticing his features, realized he couldn't just ignore his pleas and move on.

“I've been told by a certain… Sir Sol, to ask to be accompanied to the medical bay…”“Sir Sol…? Shit, even if… Get out, brat, I'll lead the way.”

Surprisingly, that worked like a charm. Even if he had no way of making sure the boy wasn't lying on the spot, the fear of going against that man's orders probably surpassed the fear of being punished for taking a prisoner out of their cell. Surprisingly, the medical bay wasn’t too far from their holding cells.

The guard remained outside, leaving the elf to enter alone. The room was small, but surprisingly not too shabby, considering it was just a medical room for the prisoners. Moving aside a curtain, the bed in which Arthur was sitting, seemingly meditating, would be revealed.

“Oi, you moron… Are you awake?”“…You came sooner than I thought you would.”

“What, did you think I'd leave you here, without even knowing if you'd wake up after that shit you pulled?”

A soft smile creeped its way onto Ayn's face, seeing the other react like that was reassuring. They hadn't known each other for long, that was true, but he really did feel like a brother to the elf. In contrast, the brother's expression was more grave.

“Ayn, you know why I've transmigrated, right?”

“Well, yeah… I can't tell you the details, but there's a clear reason you've been forced into this world. As soon as we get out of here, Aurora will explain everything.”“I see… So, you too, expect me to do something for you, huh.”To the shorter haired elf's confusion, Arthur's expression grew more serious. Until now, he hadn't been facing him, looking in the opposite direction while sitting upright on the bed. Finally, he'd turn towards Ayn, an indecipherable look on his face.

“I'm not leaving this prison with you, Ayn. That man, Sol, offered me a chance for freedom, a chance I can grasp with my own hand.”“What the hell… Are you talking about…?”

Initially, he thought this was some sort of prank to piss him off, but seeing the serious expression on Arthur's face, reality set in. Anger started slowly boiling inside the elf's body, thanks to the transmigrator's stupidity.

“I don't know what you think you're going to get out of working with him, but we've already accounted for your rescue alongside mine- you just need to sit tight, and we'll both get out of here. Not to mention, following that man is going to take much longer, and meeting back up with me would be a pain-”“You don't understand. It's not about escaping.”“…? What the hell is it about, then?!”

Ayn held himself back from shouting, at Arthur's retort.

“I don't care why you think I transmigrated, but I know the reason. It's a second chance at life.”In his eyes, that flame of determination was still burning brightly, what was it that he could see exactly?“Sorry, but this time, I'll live how I want to. Your expectations, you can throw them in the trash.”