Chapter 36: Mnemosyne’s Antiques

Casanova heaved a sighed of relief.

Now, Franz could observe Gray’s condition without any further delays.

Although he couldn’t observe his second Mercurial Fragment, he could observe his external complexion.

Since one’s Fragment and one’s body and soul were connected, from a thorough observation of the physical body, one could gain hidden insight over the person’s Fragment. The same could also apply for the opposite, and that’s why the condition of his second Mercurial Fragment was so unexplainable.

Having such an eldritch entity within the soul of a being would corrupt it, warping it into something unpredictable, catastrophically dangerous.

But for Gray, it was different—it was as if his second Mercurial Fragment didn’t affect him at all. And even whilst His tendrils pierced his other Fragment, nothing happened to him.

If a different Nephilim were to damage his Fragment in any way, it would bring devastating consequences.

Some examples were: induction of schizophrenia, shattering of one’s personality, memories, and loss of Ego.

Because of this unpredictability residing within him, Gray had to be observed by Franz, the only one who could notice every single change within him.

Gray himself was someone unheard of.

Never in the history of the Nephilim had there been an Onironaut who could receive revelation from the future while residing inside the physical plane.

The thought of someone being able to do it was simply preposterous, as if someone had said, ‘two plus two equals five.’

An Onironaut soul is special.

Although they aren’t the only one among the Nephilim who can split their souls in smaller pieces, they are the only ones who can access to the possible futures residing inside the Eternal Landscape of the Begotten Self, the Nurturer of all Dreams, the Gentle-Holder of Past, Present, and Future.

To do so, they subconsciously encase a piece of their souls within a small, protective layer of quintessence. They then can use it to transcend the physical world, using their dream as a portal to enter that abstract space.

In Gray’s case, he could split his soul in pieces and somehow enter the dimension without the aid of any portals.

The Eternal Landscape of the Begotten Self and the real world flow through two completely separate fabrics of reality, only to connect when a being sleeps.Therefore, it was completely impossible for Gray to escape the real-world whilst awake.

The act to split one’s soul itself was also distressing, for a being’s soul is composed by one’s experiences, memories, fears, and feelings.

Doing so while awake could bring psychological torment to the user.

But Gray, for some hidden reason, was exempt from these rules, as if he belonged to a completely different species.

His exemption to the rules of nature resembled ‘them.’

To an outsider perspective, he was incredibly terrifying. But to a mad Nephilim, one who had nothing to lose, one who wanted to see the world burn…

He could prove to be an honey pot.

Casanova, after the two finished their talk, ended the call.

He was driving towards the city called Nereztia—the closest city to Corveno, for his injuries had to be treated.

To keep on pursuing the follower of the Hermetical Canons of Immortality, he had to be in his prime condition.

The day before, he stayed in the city of Corveno, waiting patiently, hoping that she would expose herself in some way or the other.

Instead, she dumped the corpses away—it was plausible she had decided to escape the city entirely.

Although Casanova was an experienced Nephilim, he was alone. And since he was the only one inside Corveno, there wasn’t anyone else to help him in finding her.

While he decided to take the mission for personal reasons, not wanting anyone to bother him during it, he luckily turned out to be the only one who could face her.

Had others been with him, he was sure they would’ve died.

Casanova, gazed downwards.

His shirt was full of dried blood; long, thin gashes slashing it.

He could endure thanks to his ability, but as more time passed, the more his situation would worsen.

Casanova had stayed like that for for over eighteen hours, so the effects were starting to get overwhelming.

He couldn’t go to a normal hospital since the doctors would take too much time. Therefore, he had to visit one of his old friends.

She was a Nephilim who specialized in the healing arts, causing her to become his first option when in need of treatment.

He also briefly thought about returning to Rosano to seek Gray’s help, but diverted at the last moment, deciding to pursue a different path.

While on the hunt, he would send Gray a picture depicting the sketch of the woman who injured him, hoping that the boy would get revelations about her.

Casanova wanted to use his ability as a means to find her, and most importantly, to rescue the old, bedridden lady—her object of experiments.

He also had to send the statuette he had found to Franz Kaldiri.

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Since he specialized with those matters, he was perfect for the job. Although Casanova himself was very knowledgeable with many esoteric subjects, he didn’t specialize in those things.

Killing and destruction were the matters he was better at.

For most of his life, it was all he knew about.

There were small, pleasant moments of peace, but even then, they soon ended, causing him to return to his old ways.

That was one of the fates belonging to the Nephilim—the Wretched Children of Tragedy.

…

Casanova had entered into her old friend’s driveway.

Small, cozy houses filled the neighborhood, all with nicely trimmed trees and grass. Within every courtyard, there were varying species of flowers, all swaying gently, all caressed by the gentle, yet chilly breeze.

Hers was different, however.

Her garden was untrimmed, with dry, brownish leaves on top of it. Roots also sprawled all over it, with many flowers such as Nutsyas, Titan Arums, and other dim, almost dead looking flowers protruding out from them.

Walking slowly, Casanova made his way towards her door.

The wood was covered with an ash-like substance emitting a foul odor. Ignoring it, he knocked on her door.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

“Who’s this…” a groggy voice sounded through the door.

“Casanova,” the man simply said.

The door immediately swung open, and with it, the image of a green haired, pale looking woman in her mid-forties reflected inside Casanova’s eyes.

Although she wasn’t in her prime years anymore, she retained her youthful charm with success.

“Heard the mission failed,” she pursued her lips.

Casanova raised a brow. “Cassandra told you?”

“Yep,” she pointed at his injuries. “The only spoils of war, am I right?”

Seeing that Casanova didn’t chuckle nor acknowledge her joke, she shrugged her shoulders, making way for him to enter her house.

Like her garden, her living room was incredibly messy.

There were books depicting anatomical drawings, chinese manuscripts about acupuncture, and other ancient medical techniques.

She immediately went deeper and deeper into her cluttered house, and after a few seconds, she brought a short, hospital cot.

After laying on it, Casanova removed his shirt, exposing his chiseled-like physique that resembled a greek, marbled statue.

He also dropped his pants slightly, so the wounds on his hips were exposed.

At the sight of it, his old friend jokingly covered her eyes.

“Get done with it, Ophelia,”

Ophelia in turn sighed. “So grumpy…” she complained, mumbling under her breath.

Seeing the extent of his injuries, she grabbed a pair of sterilized gloves and began to inspect them with more focus.

She gently pressed around the edge of the wounds in his torso. Then, she took a medical forcep to raise the skin, repeating the cycle for every injury.

After a careful inspection, she noticed that most of the wounds were superficial; they didn’t damage the organs.

She then checked the wounds on his hips, and immediately, she could notice their severity.

“Had you visited a doctor just as soon as you got injured, this wouldn’t have happened,” she shook her head disapprovingly.

“She was still inside Corveno, I couldn’t risk her getting away once again,” he briefly replied.

“Yet, you did,” she exhaled, placing her hands on Casanova’s body.

A purple light was then emitted by her, and suddenly, his wounds began to squirm furiously.

Just then, the skin on his intact parts began to duplicate, splitting in replicas. The newly formed skin rushed towards the surface wounds, healing them without leaving a scar behind.

While for the more serious injuries, it wasn’t only the skin that began to duplicate; it was also his muscles, tendons and veins.

They all rushed towards their injured counterparts, healing them without any apparent pain.

After a brief minute, it was as if Casanova had never gotten injured.

“You are ready for your next ventures.” she clasped her hands together.

Casanova slowly nodded.

”As always, thank you for the help.”

Ophelia turned her head in disapproval. “If you only listened to a doctor’s advice, there wouldn’t be any need to say, ‘as always.’”

Silently, Casanova stood up and begun to make his way towards the exit door.

“W-wait!” she yelled, looking frantically inside her pockets.

After a brief moment of shuffling sounds, she took a candy out.

It was a lollipop.

Casanova stared wordlessly at the food.

After a few seconds, his eye turned blood-red.

“It’s spoiled,” he said.

“E-eh? W-Wait, I should have other candies!”

Ignoring her, Casanova went outdoors.

…

Rosano.

Gray silently stared at the silvery business card Franz Kaldiri had given him, his words echoing in his mind.

“To understand something, one must have the full picture…”

He wordlessly dialed the number.

Now, all he had to do was call it.

He gazed at the warehouse filled with weigh plates, weight bars, dumbbells, and the other instruments for his physical training.

“If I refrain from seeking knowledge, I might become a brainless grunt, only good at punching things.”

“If I refrain from doing the opposite, I might become a geek, only good at using my brain.”

“Therefore, to better myself, I must empower both my body and mind.”

He pressed the call button, the sound echoing across the warehouse.

Beep! Beep! Beep!

Click!

Someone had picked the call up.

“Mnemosyne’s antiques, how may I help you?”

Initially, Gray thought that Franz himself would reply; instead, the person on the other side was a girl, possibly one or two years older than him.

It made sense for the owner not to reply to every call personally. Regardless, he was slightly taken aback.

“Good evening, my name is Gray, I’ve heard you guys were in need of staff…”

“Gray?” she asked.

“Y-Yeah, Montoya. Gray Montoya,” he explained, slightly embarrassed.

An overwhelming silence then surged from her.

In the first three seconds, Gray thought that she understood him wrong, or at most, was laughing at his name. In the first seven seconds, he thought that maybe, someone had entered their store, causing her to stop talking abruptly. After thirty seconds, he decided to ask what was going on.

“I’m sorry, is everything alright…?”

“…Yes,” the girl abruptly said.

Her tone of voice was off—it almost seemed she was gritting her teeth in annoyance, anger, or even hate.

It was strange.

It was the first time the two had ever spoken with each-other—what was the reason for such a reaction?

Was she afraid to get her position stolen by Gray?

Was she afraid to get replaced?

“I will call who you are looking for,” she followed quick after.

“Thank you,” Gray replied, confused by the strange turns of events.

After thirty seconds of an oppressive silence, he finally heard Franz Kaldiri’s ecstatic, almost euphoric voice.

“Gray, it’s you!”

“Hello, Franz. It’s nice hearing from you again.”

“The same goes for me!” he chuckled. “Selene told me you wanted to help us in our shop, am I correct?”

‘Selene… So that’s her name.’

’Wonder what was the point of that reaction, though.’

“Yes!” he eagerly replied, wanting to show his professionalism.

“It’s settled then!” Franz exclaimed.

“If you are free, you might as well come here. I’m not busy right now, so I explain the work you’ll do—and even chat quite briefly,” Franz asked politely, restraining his behavior so Gray wouldn’t feel overwhelmed nor uncomfortable with him.

“Sure, I don’t have anything else going on,” Gray was eager to familiarize himself with the new ambience.

“Perfect! Our shop is located inside Ariadne’s street, I’ll be waiting for you!”

The two engaged in chit-chat for a brief minute, and then, Gray ended the call.

He immediately removed the now sweaty, weighted vest, and sprinted away from the warehouse, not bothering to tidy it up.

It seemed that nobody other than Gray ever went inside the warehouse.

Casanova had spoken about humans having a kind of sixth sense that made them subconsciously avoid the Nephilim matters, so it might have been because of that, however.

…

Gray stood before a cozy, vintage looking store.

He had to visit his house briefly to take a quick shower—he couldn’t show up neither stinking of sweat nor disheveled, after all.

He then took a brief moment to observe the store.

Adjacent to the door, there were two grey, medieval armors, each one grasping a long and thin spear.

From the store’s display windows, he could see various items belonging to humanity’s past; swords, knives, old leather jackets, bows, ancient mechanical tools and other devices.

The view that normally wouldn’t feel imposing had a different effect to him, for this would be his first, true job!

Taking a deep breath, he gazed upwards, the image of the store insignia glimpsing inside his eyes.

Mnemosyne’s Antiques!

Silently, he opened the door, entering inside the store.

It was a small step for a young man, but a giant leap forward that uncertain future of his!