Anthemion found himself at a loss for words, struggling to articulate his thoughts. In the end, a faint chuckle escaped him, though he swiftly stifled it.

To his relief, Lucian didn't take it as an insult.

"You're quite the philosopher, aren't you?" Anthemion observed, finally breaking the silence.

Lucian responded with a smile, "It's more of a hobby, really. In the end, I probably just lack the balls to my pitiable existence.

Deep within me, maybe a sliver of my soul is still breathing and alive, clinging to emotion and warmth, clutching desperately to the faintest flicker of hope. Perhaps, it keeps me somewhat human."

Anthemion couldn't resist probing further, asking, "Yet you envy ordinary mortals? I mean, I can understand being envious of me, especially for my looks, really, but be for real.

How can you envy them when, with a mere gesture of your hand, you could extinguish their lives as easily as swatting a fly?"

Lucian replied, "They possess something I never will," his tone remaining simple and straightforward. As he reclined in his seat, Anthemion sensed that the topic had reached its conclusion, and he wisely refrained from prying any further.

Turning his attention to a more uplifting matter, Anthemion couldn't contain his excitement. It sprinkled from him like sparks.

"So, how does one become a Conduit?" he inquired eagerly, his hands trembling with anticipation.

Lucian replied nonchalantly and with a straight face, "It's relatively straightforward, actually.

You must undergo a process that involves a spiritual transformation, one that requires a unique set of conditions. You'll have to sacrifice two humans, preferably virgins, though I imagine finding them shouldn't pose much trouble, as you are certainly quite versed in those circles."

After a short silence, and the obvious judgment emanating from Anthemion's eyes, he coughed and rolled his eyes, "We might find another way."He leaned forward in his seats, putting his palms together, "What do you know about the soul?"

Anthemion paused, choosing his words carefully. "Well, it's all just rumors, really. The tabs on information about Conduits are quite closed for the likes of me, and from what I know, those who seek knowledge too eagerly often receive warnings or even vanish mysteriously.

At least, that's what I've heard at times, but I have no idea if it are merely exaggerated rumors. While there are some videos on the internet, sure, they often depict Conduits using their powers in some and and don't go about the theoretics, so I can't really get anything from that.

Of course, you have the guards, but I think they primarily serve as a show of intimidation, and even when they employ their powers, it reveals little about the secrets of the Beyond. Not, that they leave any witnesses anyway."

He paused for a moment, deep in thought, before speculating further, "It's likely different in other Dominions and Districts where Conduits are more commonplace.

However, here in our 9th, both the public knowledge and my own understanding can be distilled to this: Every living, breathing being possesses a soul.

Conduits learn to delve into the depths of their spiritual nature and harness that power for an array of purposes and wonders."

Lucian nodded, acknowledging the limited scope of his knowledge, and then added, "That's true, but with that we have barely scratched the surface of the vast ocean of spiritual knowledge.

So, let's start at the very beginning.

At their very essence, humans, as a species, are not inherently endowed with magical abilities. They are, in their core, ordinary mortals, not crafted to wield the powers of gods and immortals.

However, following the catastrophic events of the Second Cataclysm and the devastating toll it exacted upon humanity, idleness became a luxury we could no longer afford.

It's challenging to regard oneself as the pinnacle of creation and remain complacent when even the most advanced weaponry, painstakingly developed by the most brilliant scientists and constructed by the most skilled engineers over the course of many years, proved utterly ineffective – so much as to not kill even a single specimen.

It was a sobering revelation, especially when over two-thirds of the population perished merely from bearing witness to a battle in which they played no active role.

It showed us human fragility, put it right into our faces, when faced with true strength.

And there was fear, but also longing. As it is human nature."

Anthemion was hooked. While he knew of the Second Cataclysm, everyone did after all, his knowledge was quite limited, as was the knowledge of the public in general, "What happened next?"

"For humanity to survive, there was a pressing need for evolution," Lucian explained. "And if nature and environmental influences could not provide this transformation in due time, then artificial means would have to suffice.

No idea, which mad scientist came up with the idea of Scriptures but someone discovered them. No, rather invented them, and they began to spread."

Anthemion, intrigued, asked further. "So, what are Scriptures exactly?"

"Simply put, they serve as guides along the Paths of cultivation. However, that description falls short. It doesn't do them justice, for they are also far more.

When one embarks on the journey to become a Conduit, you undergo a process known simply by its purpose: Rebirth. During this transformation, you reconstruct your physical form using spiritual energy and Essences as the raw material, with the Scripture acting as the chisel – like an artist molding their masterpiece. Therefore, the quality of your Scripture becomes a paramount factor in realizing your fullest potential."

"That are some fancy words, but what even is a Path, and how does it differ from an Aspect?"

Lucian obliged with a grin, explaining, "It's rather straightforward. Allow me to demonstrate."

With a casual wave of his hand and a snap of his skeletal fingers, his hand ignited in flames. Even from Anthemion's vantage point, he could sense the unnatural and scorching heat emanating from the fiery display.

How could a fire be so damn destructive, so palpably demanding of bloody massacre?

"My Path correlates to two Aspects: Fire and Fist. I possess the ability to conjure, control, and manipulate fire. But when it comes to utilizing my power, I am confined to employing it through my hands and specific spells due to the Path I follow.

My Scripture centers around the concept of the fist as an instrument of controlled violence, aptly titled Path of the Infernal Fist.

At the core of my soul lies the essence of this Path - my very nucleus is adorned with the runes of this particular discipline. In essence, I'm this Path."

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As he spoke, the fire in his hand stretched and slumped, grew brighter and duller in seamless flux of energy output, like a mesmerizing dance.

Anthemion wished to clarify, "So, your Aspects are the Fist and the element Fire. Therefore, your chosen Path delves deeper into this specific concept, dictating the manner in which you can harness the power you possess?

So, in your case, through punching. Very sophisticated, by the way."

He laughed, and Lucian chuckled, affirming, "Essentially, that's correct. There is but one Aspect of Fire but numerous Paths that tap into its power. A Path serves to narrow your choices but, in doing so, unlocks entirely new realms of potential."

Curiosity piqued, Anthemion pressed on, "What other Paths and Aspects exist? Are they limited to specific aspects of reality, or could there, for instance, be a Path devoted to something as mundane as cooking?"

"Those are good questions, but regrettably, I've no fucking clue. And if I don't know, then probably nobody does.

There are countless Aspects and Paths, some quite powerful, some idiotic. Speaking of stupid Aspects, for example, our great noble family has an inherent affinity for the Cloud Aspect," he mocked, then waved his hand.

"But enough of these theoretical matters. Let's get down to some business." With that declaration, Lucian exerted his Touch to levitate a smooth pill into the air as if by an invisible hand.

He continued, "This is your second gift: An Awakening Pill. Please refrain from kneeling to thank me, though some bows would be certainly appreciated."

Anthemion rolled his eyes and mimed a shallow bow, barely tipping his head.

"I can live with that," Lucian shrugged. "While the pill isn't of the highest quality, it should suffice for our purposes." He twirled it in the air, letting it perform a small dance as if carried by the wind.

"Within it lies concentrated spiritual energy in a pure and untainted form, making it easily detectable, even for mortals. Your task is to ingest the pill and attempt to perceive the energies it emits within your body.

Concentrate them in your abdomen, much like tending to a fire. Feed it with more and more energy, nurture it, care for it, and let it grow until it reaches the size required to trigger your Rebirth. Once that occurs, it will become a natural process, guided by your Essences and the runes concealed within your Scripture."

"Why the Awakening Pill? And... wait a moment, Essences? As in plural?" Anthemion bubbled.

"The Awakening Pill shortens the time you'd normally take to accumulate enough spiritual energy. And yes, your Scripture encompasses two Aspects, namely Water and Plant," Lucian explained. "So, you'll need two Essences."

With that, a subtle, earthy fragrance, reminiscent of freshly turned soil and blooming flowers whispered in the atmosphere, as if the room had turned into a lush forest.

A green star fluttered in the air, the ethereal Essence shimmering with a verdant radiance, casting an emerald glow in its vicinity.

Its form shifted, as if dancing to an unseen breeze, strangely mimicking the swaying of leaves and branches. Anthemion stretched to grasp it, to hold it in his hands and -

Before he could muster it in more detail, Lucian lowered it again, concealing it the same as he had done with the Essence of Water.

"Wait a second," Anthemion paused, horror creeping into his features.

"That's all very nice but what if I simply lack the talent to become a Conduit?

What if I am incapable of achieving this milestone?" he worried aloud, a wave of fear chilling his very bones into glacier ice.

"Well, in that case, you're fucked." Lucian shrugged, the embodiment of empathy.

Anthemion couldn't suppress a bright laugh, his tension dissipating. If he were not cut to become a supernatural being of great power, so be it.

Nothing would fundamentally change for him.

However, he couldn't help but smile at the thought that sneaky fate itself would present him with such a tantalizing opportunity only to snatch it away from under his nose, as if to allow him only a small sniff, then leaving him with a longing glimpse into a world just beyond his reach.

Keeping his spiritual future behind a border he simply couldn't trespass, like an unsurmountable mountain.

If he couldn't become a Conduit, he reasoned, he might as well pass the Scripture on to his sister so that she could benefit from his fortuitous encounter, or sell it for profit.

As he shared this with Lucian, he received an unfortunate revelation - a Scripture was a one-time-use item. During the captivating and mysterious process of Rebirth, it became intricately woven into the holder's soul, forever lost to the external world.

This meant he couldn't equip his entire family with the Scripture after merging with it, leaving him in a predicament.

Anthemion's tone grew solemn as he began, "My sister," he paused, collecting his thoughts, "she suffers from a congenital illness."

He proceeded to describe the symptoms and the name of the ailment that plagued her, detailing the torment it had inflicted upon her fragile existence. Lucian listened, but made a great deal of yawning to show his boredom at her misfortune.

With hope flickering in his eyes, Anthemion posed a question, "If I were to give this Scripture to her, could it heal her illness and free her from this curse?"

Lucian questioned him, his eyes wide in sheer disbelief at his altruism, "You would give this opportunity to another person? Abandon your newfound life before it even begins, just to cure her?"

Anthemion's response was resolute, his eyes stoic-calm and glittering with unwavering determination, "At any time."

Lucian sighed and then, with a touch of melodrama, stated, "Sorry to disappoint you, then. From what I can gather, no, it won't. I'm familiar with that illness – Hell, everyone even remotely connected to the Beyond is aware of her affliction."

He made a short, melodramatic pause as if to build more tension. "Her body is incapable of withstanding the natural spiritual energy that permeates the air.

It deteriorates due to the destructive influence of these currents.

Fusing her with a Scripture would likely lead to an immediate disintegration of her physical form, leaving nothing but a small mound of diluted crap on the floor," he explained with a grin, though the grim reality of his words was far from funny.

"If you ever try, I would love an opportunity to watch," Lucian mused, raising his eyebrow.

Anthemion struggled to contain his flaring anger, a fiery rage building within him. He was barely able to stifle it, and in the end, let out a resigned sigh of defeat, saying, "Fuck you, man."

Desiring to steer the conversation back to its original focus, he clapped his hands together and asked with palpable longing, "So, how do we go about this? What steps do I need to take to transition from where I am," he pointed at himself, "to where you are," extending his hand toward Lucian.

"Some exceptional plastic surgery," Lucian quipped with a smirk.

"But when it comes to becoming a Conduit, it's quite straightforward. Just take the pill, focus on the Essences around you, and hope all that expansive shit won't go to waste on you."

With those words, he harnessed his energy to gently lower the pill into Anthemion's awaiting hand, who held it with great care, treating it like a precious gem.

Hesitating only for a moment, Anthemion brought the pill to his lips.

The next few seconds would determine not only his own fate but also that of his family, deciding whether he would ascend from the depths of his life to glory or remain shackled to the ground.

He woul-

"Not here, you idiot," Lucian interjected, seizing Anthemion's wrist halfway to his mouth.

"This is an expensive couch. Get into the tub. Perform your Rebirth there."

Anthemion's brows furrowed as he questioned, "Why?"

A mysterious smile graced Lucian's lips as he replied, "You'll see. And get your clothes off!"

Reluctantly, Anthemion disrobed, sitting naked on the cold, yet strangely comfortable, marble of Lucian's bathtub.

He blocked out all distractions, including Lucian, who observed him attentively from the tub's edge.

In his lap rested his Scripture, and Anthemion focused on its serene stability, attempting to absorb its calmness and transfer it to himself.

The tub was bathed in the green and blue glow of the Essences, resting each to his sides.

Akin to fissures in space itself, they rippled the air and morphed the world around him, making it hard to concentrate.

They were like two miniature suns shinning with great intensity into his eyes, while he tried to read a distant note.

He briefly contemplated cracking a joke to alleviate his mounting nervousness but realized that further delay served no purpose.

Either he possessed the potential to become a Conduit or he didn't.

Waiting another minute wouldn't change that outcome.

With a deep breath, he swallowed the pill.