Eyes tell stories more than any other part of a body. It’s a gateway to one’s mind, and through eyes, we can sense emotions and thoughts.
What do you see when you look at a fish's eyes?
It’s blank, void. There doesn’t seem to be any thought behind those empty pupils, but they still react to pain and danger — they feel and think, but about what? Their brains are too different from our own — inhuman — it’s impossible to know or understand.
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The dark blue of the night’s metal enclosure surrounded Reginn and Kyriekaos — as well as her cross which seemed to mindlessly follow its master. Around them were various crates and containers, an endless supply of boxes and boxes lining the massive shelves. This was but one of the warehouses for the megacorp Engine, the commercial heart of Avangarden. It was but a shipping company in ye olden days, but times a changing, and so grows the seeds we planted decades ago.
The moon’s presence is unknown here, the windows sealed long ago. There were no guards, as the CCTV measured every response. However, the authorities never arrived.
In front of Reginn lay Attila’s body, possessed by the 33rd hero Kyriekaos. As expected, it seemed that he was the most powerful hero so far, which gave him confidence, but also disappointment regarding the new world’s pathetic strength.
From what he had seen, there was a fairly linear pattern for the decrease in strength of the heroes, beginning from the alpha to the omega. Of course, there was a myriad of social, economic and divine factors at play, but it was clear that none would rival his power — except the first hero of course.
Reginn frowned as he began to understand the implications. With the Goddess sealed, the status of the demon God unknown, his siblings missing and the heroes weak, if the hero Mana were to return, there would be none to oppose her.
He would need to train for this inevitable cataclysm in the future, but for now, there were more imminent tasks at hand.
“⌈Sixth Path Retrieval⌋”
This time, the spell was streamlined and efficient, the flow of mana linear and at a constant pace between Reginn’s mind and Kyriekaos’s. The hero knew that the best way to gain information and communicate was through memories, especially against an uncooperative enemy. And so, Reginn entered the realm of the shadows forcefully, the void beginning to surround him in all directions.
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The quaking thunderclouds above split in half, freeing the bright ocean sky above. However, it was soon imprisoned once more, but a glimpse of a future of what could be.
Attila watched as Reginn descended from above, utilizing his mana control to slow his fall. It seemed that whatever he could do in reality, he could do here, even when there was technically no real mana around, only imaginary ones. So is the nature of minds and dreams.
“It-it’s you! You’re Sivrit’s friend, aren’t you?”
“...I suppose you could say that.”
Reginn looked around but found no trace of any other being in the vicinity. However, he knew not to trust his senses, as this was a dream plane where all were naught, and everything impossible was possible.
The first thing he noticed was the fact that the minds of Sivrit and Kyriekaos were wildly different, Sivrit’s was more of a theatre where one could watch the play of her life, carefully curated memories and thoughts. Kyriekaos’s mind seemed to be an open, empty area, perhaps reflecting the hero’s complex mind. It was not the mind of a normal human being.
“...Bravo, I knew you’d reach me someday,” said Kyriekaos as she walked into the spotlight.
Attila did not know which prisoner it was yet, but—
Suddenly, as Reginn lifted his hand, Kyriekaos began choking on something, falling to the ground.
Instinctually, Attila jumped to tend to the young girl, but could not see anything blocking her air passage.
After a minute of panic, the choking stopped.
“...I’ll be the one talking,” said Reginn, “I need you to understand what will happen in the future.”
Kyriekaos looked up to see Reginn. It would be difficult to gauge his strength through his appearance alone — dressed shabbily in unwashed clothes — but even she understood Reginn’s power from the first glance. However, she could’ve never expected his methods.
“But first, I need you to tell me everything. Your name, your era, your motives, goals, everything.”
“...”
“Silence is not an option.”
Reginn began raising his hand once more but was interrupted by Attila.
“W-wait! I can tell you all you need to know.”
Kyriekaos watched in confusion, but then in horror as Attila revealed the evidence in her possession from the pockets of her jacket — a piece of paper, a flowerpot and a doll.
“...Go on.”
“W-well, Kyriekaos was the 33rd hero, so she must’ve been born… a long time ago, a-and I know that she was made by merging four death row inmates together to create a living weapon. H-here—”
Attila handed the piece of paper to Reginn, who disinterestedly accepted.
“I think this is like a construct of the mind — a memory. Four questions, four subjects — four prisoners. And this too—” said Attila as she next handed the flowerpot to him.
“The true form of hers is the flower beast, and she seems to have some connection with flowers in general. This pot must also be something important to one of the prisoners, but it’s empty, so maybe they forgot about it?”
“...And what about that clay doll?”
“I-I’m not sure…”
“...I see.”
Reginn began to understand the situation from the pieces of evidence. The empty void, the shape of the mind and the hero’s strange behaviour. They must’ve undergone a form of spiritual transfer — which would require someone with talent over the subspace of the Psyche, extremely rare — but performed a crude mana-based memory erasure beforehand, hence the leftover, incomplete artifacts.
“...Question Two: What do you see beyond an animal’s empty eye?” said Kyriekaos, “I don’t remember what the options were, but I was the only one who got it.”
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“Do you remember what the questionnaire was for?” asked Reginn.
“...It was for choosing candidates. A correct combination of answers, to create the perfect soldier.” answered Kyriekaos, “But I shouldn’t know this… The prisoners would have never seen the result sheet, or the flower pot, or the clay doll… These are someone else’s memories.”
“Are you sure these memories are true?”
“They must be, or else why would they remain here for so long?”
Reginn pondered the greater situation. Perhaps there was indeed a way to achieve a happy ending for all involved parties, but would that be the best ending for Avangarden? For him? For now, he made sure to leave both paths open, just in case.
“This doll seems to be a child’s toy, maybe that has to do something?” said Attila, “Didn’t you say something about ‘father’ once?”
“Father? Father, oh yes, I remember now. This isn’t my memory, nor any other prisoners… He had a mustache and a prickly beard — that much I can remember. He was an important person, but what was his name…?”
“Do you remember anything else?”
“No… No, I’m afraid I do not. Everything was erased and all that’s left is the void…”
“Hmm…”
With not much evidence, and all physical traces most likely destroyed by time, it would be impossible to complete this puzzle. Even if it was possible, it would not be worth his efforts.
“...Listen well, as I am not here to answer your prayers,” said Reginn, “Kyriekaos, I believe we could achieve a beneficial relationship.”
“...Whatever you’re planning, I’m afraid you’re talking to the wrong person. I do not control this body any longer, as the flower has taken complete control.”
“The flower?”
“Yes, the flower.”
The air slowly chilled, as the little available light dimmed and dimmed. Total darkness once more, before regaining just enough light to fully understand the creature. It was fleshly in nature, made you human components. Its main weakness seemed to be the center glass jar with brain matter in the center, though it also could’ve been a trap. With its whip-like bony spinal tentacles, just looking at it inspired pain.
Reginn stood wordlessly for a few moments. While he had seen many things, nothing was quite like the creature in front of him. It was not quite its appearance or movement, but the aura it exuded. Most beings’ aura was like fire or smoke, but the flower's was like poison, slowly seeping and killing the world around it.
The girl’s tone shifted once again. This time, it was clear that it was the ‘beauty obsessed’ prisoner, or ‘Betty’, but who was it previously? ‘Serious’ Kyriekaos?
“...You’re a hero, aren’t you? You’re just as beautiful as the last time we met.”
“Hm? Of course. Didn’t I mention it before?” said Reginn.
“I’m afraid I only receive glimpses of the visions of the outside world.”
“What about with the others?”
“Hm? Who?”
“The others that inhibit the body. The prisoners.”
“Oh, I’m afraid they’re all long gone. Here remains only I, as the molten souls merged.” said Kyriekaos, “Or perhaps you are misunderstanding something. The ‘other prisoners’ are not separate entities, but different… phases, like that of the moon. Like how a human sometimes feels happy or sad, we sometimes think and behave differently.”
‘...It could be possible.’ thought Reginn.
From his vision, he could tell that every creature had a thin membrane of mana tracing across its form. It was something he called the mana skin. The main function of this barrier was to regulate and distinguish the mana within the body and outside the body. This was one of the primary reasons why high mana concentrations were dangerous for most, as it weakened the integrity of the mana skin. But why? The membrane, why was it important? The purpose of the thin film was yet unknown to him, but perhaps the mana skin kept the spirit within the body — in one way or another.
During his few years on land, he encountered lost spirits rarely. From his observations, the soul cannot be seen or sensed directly, as the true soul resides in a different, remote realm — the Psyche. Only those with access to the Psyche could bend and destroy souls, which were otherwise indestructible. His theory was: that something must be limiting the connection of individual souls to individual areas, like shadow puppetry creating shadows in specific areas to create illutions. If the hand was poorly defined, so would the image on the wall. Or in this case, if there were no mana skins, it would be impossible for the soul to limit their influence to one area, significantly weakening its strength overall as it is stretched thin. At that point, it might even be unable to calculate thoughts and emotions, let alone control mana.
In Kyriekaos’s case, if the mana skins of multiple individuals were to dissolve… perhaps the influences of different souls would overlap. The hero knew not the consequences of such an experiment, nor was he sure such was the case, but it was a compelling thesis for now.
“...Well then, that’s enough about you. Let’s talk bout the future,” said Reginn, “if you can… persuade the beast, your body to come to the Royal Gladiatorial Area this Sunday, I believe I can be of some help to your predicament.” Reginn lied casually.
The hero was unsure exactly how to separate the beast and the prisoners, nor what to do with the soul afterward. He was a mage, not a soulweaver.
However, Kyriekaos wholeheartedly trusted the hero as her tone shifted once more.
“R-really? Then I’ll do it!” exclaimed Kyriekaos, “B-but, there’s something I have to tell you… And you too, Attila.”
“Go on.”
“Attila… The longer you stay here, the more your soul dissolves. The beast wants to take over your body completely and make it its new vessel — if you aren’t quickly removed, You’ll just become an assortment of memories and emotions like me!”
“W-what?”
The tone shifts once again.
“...Just kidding! Of course, no such thing will happen… Anyhow, is there anything else you need?”
“...Make sure to come to the colosseum, at the 18th hour.” said Reginn, “And you.”
Attila jolted as she answered.
“Yes?”
“...Your dear friend Sivrit told me to spare your life. Let me ask you one thing: Why did you answer my question for Kyriekaos’s sake? Didn’t she kill someone important to you? Stole your body?”
“...I know, but the person I was defending wasn’t Kyriekaos, but the prisoners.”
“I wonder why they were on death row.”
“Justice isn’t always right, especially not under a corrupt ruler.” said Attila, “Because they were on death row, they can no longer speak their side of the story. This is the exact kind of justice I want to fight.”
“But even if a fourth of all executions are wrong, shouldn’t they matter as long as all criminals are erased? The status quo can lose a few men, but cannot afford sinners after all.”
“...Justice isn’t about continuing the status quo. It’s about the wishes of the people. It’s not a book, philosophy, or someone’s words, but the words of the people. It should be like medicine — something people need. It shouldn’t hurt the community.”
“...A cleanser of illness, huh?” said Reginn.
This was the first time Reginn had a conversation with a demon other than Zealot, and it was much nicer as well. Through the veil of bluntness and naivety lay a true warrior’s spirit. It would be impossible to discourage such words. However, it was not enough to shake Reginn’s resolve. For now, he did not see a way to remove Attila, and the simplest solution would be to simply execute them all at once.
“Then I suppose I will see you at the colosseum.”