No, he had to kill him.

"Must have been hard," Karl said, continuing his conversation with his friend, who looked no older than fifteen.

The boy stayed silent for a moment, then replied, "I know I'm a mutant, maybe even a heretic, but to go through this? Sometimes I just feel like losing my mind."

"And you don't?"

A brief silence followed. "Aren't you a mutant, like me?"

Well, considering all the oddities about me, chances are I am. "I’m not really sure if I am," Karl said.

"Then how did you get in here?" the boy asked, his voice still rough. "Or were you the intruder they caught?" His tone had deepened—not hostile, but like someone who’d found the source of his troubles.

"No, I don’t know anything about an intruder."

"Then how did you end up here?" the boy pressed, his voice edged with suspicion.

Karl’s mind raced. He recalled his conversations with Fredrick, his encounter with the first mutant he’d ever met—Ludwig, who was also, strangely enough, in the castle. Perhaps Fredrick had informed Anette, who then brought him into the faction.

"I had a mother, you know. She was kind, a bit controlling, sure, but…" He hesitated, "Anyway, one day there was a fire; it burned down everything, nearly killed me—or maybe it did. Either way, after that, she started looking at me differently, as though I were some kind of threat. This went on until one day there was a knock, and when I answered, I saw an invigilator. I heard a ringing, and maybe I fainted. That’s the last thing I remember. When I woke up, I was in some kind of carriage, until it was attacked, and again I blacked out, waking up in this strange place."

When he finished, Karl fell silent. Most of what he’d said was a lie, though some parts were true. Some of it had happened to him, back on Earth. It was odd how, no matter which world he was in, people sought to control him. Still, his story wasn’t exactly foolproof, but by using words like "fainting" or "blacking out," he made it difficult for the boy to find flaws in it. As for the part about the invigilators taking him, that was something Fredrick and Ludwig had hinted at.

So in the end, his words were enough to be both a lie and the truth.

The boy remained silent, then sighed. "I guess I understand that," he added. "But then, why do you say you're unsure whether you're special or not?"

This is good. "Well, because I haven't really done anything extraordinary."

"Hmm," the boy replied. "Do you not see visions of that place?"

"What place?"

"Ah..." The boy hesitated. "You know, the Astra."

They see visions of the Astra? Is that what makes them special? Karl thought, then asked, "So seeing the Astra is the reason the invigilators came to take me?"

"Well, if you could see it, wouldn’t that mean you're already tainted by the Astra, and thus, a mutant?" the boy asked.

I suppose, given how phobic Canen is about mutation and the Astra. I've already entered it—twice, if excluding the time under Frederick's hypnosis. Even then, I’ve already worn something closely tied to it—the glasses. From what I saw, it’s easy to say that the Astra permeates all things, so in a way, everyone has entered the Astra. But I suppose that’s different from fully experiencing it. Karl calmed his distracting thoughts.

"That makes sense," Karl said. "I have indeed had strange dreams of a vast, dark space, but that's been happening for a long time, and my mother only called the invigilators after the house burned down."

"You probably snapped then," the boy said.

"What?" Karl was unfamiliar with the term.

The boy waited a moment, then explained, "Well, it's a term I came up with. From what I can tell, potential mutants first start seeing the Astra, either in dreams or in real time. After that, it’s only a matter of time before the Astra truly permeates their body, and they awaken some kind of power. It’s like how sanguines drink blood to corrupt themselves with traits of the creature in order to gain its powers. The Astra does the same with mutants; they slowly get influenced until they snap into their power."

What’s all this? Despite focusing on the boy’s words, Karl couldn’t fully grasp his meaning. He said mutants gain power from the Astra? What kind of power? From what he knew, the only thing related to the Astra would be High Astra. For some reason, the language could stir power from the ocean of darkness, usable for a myriad of purposes—from creating veils, divination, and tracking to crafting an elaborate castle, or perhaps even puppets...

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Wait, the mysticism arts… Most of its practices seem linked to High Astra. Could it be that the entire mysticism arts are simply spells utilizing High Astra’s power? If so, that would explain why so few are aware of it, likely due to invigilator efforts to purge such knowledge. In any case, do the mutant powers correspond to spells derived from High Astra?

"What kind of powers are those?" Karl asked.

"From what I can tell, a mutant—depending on their level of corruption with the Astra—has heightened energy and might see things that aren’t truly there... Beyond that, I know other powers exist, but I don’t know the specifics."

Hearing this, Karl suddenly had an epiphany. Mutants have surplus energy? Is that why Olmer kidnapped them—to power his castle? But why go to such lengths for that? Surely, some normal humans have a degree of energy. It may not be as much as a sanguine or mutant, but capturing them would attract less suspicion than taking someone from a faction like the School of Mysteries. Or could he need quality over quantity for something crucial? Something he must accomplish soon?

Based on what information Karl had about Olmer, the man had abruptly stopped his duties, hinting at some urgent need. Karl sensed he was nearing the truth. It seemed Olmer was indeed working quickly to complete something, which explained his risk in building the castle in the city of Canen and stealing from the faction. But if he was willing to go this far, it must mean whatever he’s planning would somehow address the fallout of all he had done to achieve it.

What could it be? A new evolution?

Karl felt like sighing. In the end, the only way to get answers was to escape these chains. But how could he possibly do that?

He was about to ask the boy when he heard him speak. "Please, I need to sleep. I’m going to die anyway, so I might as well do it in peace." The boy fell silent.

What? Karl was a bit stunned, then he gritted his teeth. What is wrong with him? What is he even thinking? Does he just want to accept this outcome? He’d always found it strange how people were quick to accept their circumstances, showing or seeking no motivation to change them.

With nothing specific to do and wanting to conserve his energy, Karl closed his eyes, as the boy beside him had done earlier, thus allowing himself to sink into a forced but needed sleep.

He wasn’t sure how long he had slept or what had occurred, but a sudden, violent tremor jolted him awake, echoing through the castle’s very wall—causing dust and debris to rise from the ground, spatter on his body before falling up.

His eyes flew open. “What happened?” he blurted, turning to his left in the darkness. Despite the rumble that shook the room, the boy beside him remained in a deep sleep, perhaps too exhausted to stir. Karl regarded him no more and instead focused his senses to detect any sound in the dark.

Yet, despite the recent quake, the castle returned to its typical silence, so quiet that Karl wondered if he had merely imagined the noise, waking to a phantom sound. Just then, the boy woke up with a surprising sharp, horrified gasp. One that startled Karl.

“What happened?” he asked, something he typically wouldn’t do first. But considering the strangeness of this place and the boy, he couldn’t afford to wait and see if the boy would speak.

The boy took deep breaths, seemingly trying to calm a frantic heartbeat. After a pause, he spoke just loud enough for Karl to hear. “I had a dream.”

Karl frowned.

Ordinarily, he would have brushed off such a remark as trivial, but given the boy’s unusual nature and their surroundings, he suspected the dream might have left an impact on the young mutant. Perhaps it was something unique—something that could shine some light.

“What did you see?” Karl prompted.

The boy, as always, hesitated before finally speaking. “I saw chains, all twisted together in a room, then a sudden axe came and shattered them into fragments. I saw Canen, shrouded in mist and darkness, and then a corpse burning with white flames rose above the city, filling the night with a white light like one brought by the morning sun. I saw a boy unfamiliar with himself, like most of him was hidden. He will grow apart from himself, and a priest will be among the trinity of his being.”

What does that even mean?

The boy continued, but strangely, his rough voice grew strained, as if he fought against intense pain. “I saw a night of slaughter... I... I... I...”

Karl frowned. “Are you okay?”

As he asked, a bright white light suddenly shone from where the boy was chained. Karl turned, watching as the boy’s figure was slowly illuminated by the growing light.

As the brightness increased, Karl’s eyes widened. The boy was gradually lifted, brilliant light streaming from his mouth and eyes like a towering pillar. It was as if a vast torch had ignited within him.

The boy started to scream.

The boy’s scream was bone-chilling, unlike any sound a human could produce. Terror filled his eyes as the chains that bound him broke, and he was held up by an unseen force. He continued to scream as the light engulfed the room in its furious radiance. Karl wanted to look away but knew he had to see, to learn, to understand what was happening to this mutant.

Then, the light vanished completely, and the boy’s body fell with a heavy thud. It lay there, unmoving in the darkness, out of Karl’s sight. He waited for a while but soon concluded. Since the boy neither spoke nor tried to move, he could only come to one conclusion about his fate.

Death.

Why did he die? Karl began to analyze the unexpected event. He had been with the boy for a while but didn’t know him, not even his name. Grieving was difficult for someone you barely knew, yet the boy had offered him valuable information before he died. In that sense, he had been surprisingly useful.

But how did he die? From what Karl had seen, whatever happened seemed unrelated to the castle itself. Considering how long the boy had been there, he likely would have witnessed it if it were common among mutants. This left... the dream.

Why did he struggle when talking about the dream? Karl for some reason thought back to something Frederick had once mentioned about knowledge beyond the special class. Why was he thinking about that? Did it have something to do with the strange intuition he was having lately?

Could it be that the boy glimpsed something forbidden and was punished for it? Or was it something else entirely?

Moments later, a faint light crept back into the room, held by a puppet. Now, there were two.

The two puppets were vastly more different than they were previously. Their faces were paler, their movements full of tension, and there was a strange lucidity in their eyes, almost as if part of their consciousness had somehow broken through the trance.

Or am I just imagining it?