Eating ice-cream while discussing political matters felt odd at first, but after a while, Gaius felt that it was quite the appropriate treat to have. It allowed the eater to maintain their cool, reminded him or her that any troublesome, divisive issues could be put on ice, and generally encouraged a chill atmosphere. The sugary goodness inside that small tub enabled timely adrenaline shots to the brain, and…

Alright, that’s enough ice-cream puns here. Gaius scooped at the bottom of his bowl miserably, but he couldn’t exactly buy another one if he was trying to make the two girls eat in moderation. It just wouldn’t be fair.

He eyed the bowl of ice-cream in front of Pinnacle Kolya, which was half-full. Its contents were on the verge of melting entirely, and whenever he stared at it, he just wanted to beat up the Pinnacle for mistreating a national treasure.

“…detached force. Phew.” The Pinnacle finally scooped up another spoonful of ice-cream, his actions drawing the eyes of everyone else present. The man shivered, and immediately after swallowing, he looked up, his eyes switching from person to person wildly. “Why is everyone staring at me?!”

“Kolya, it’s the ice-cream,” said the Oracle.

“Sofia Galina. I’m not buying that. Don’t think I’m easy to lie to.” The Pinnacle scooped up more ice-cream. “After all, it’s not like they can’t buy some more. I think you’re overthinking it. It’s probably something I said earlier.”

Gaius swallowed, tearing his stare away from the Pinnacle’s bowl to look at Nakama and Isabelle. Both of them were looking at the same object as he was wistfully, and after weighing some considerations for a moment, the boy called one of the many nervous waiters over and got everyone another round of ice-cream.

“See?” Kolya said. “I told you. It’s probably something I said.”

“Yeap. I wanted to know about this detached force of yours,” said Gaius, playing along — getting caught with a desire for the Pinnacle’s ice-cream would reflect badly on him. “From what the Human God said, it seems that Zeroth Armaments would be fairly important in the impending war, so how are you intending to attract wielders of such weapons over to your side?”

“Our job is cut out for us,” he replied. “Historically, users of Zeroth Armaments have found themselves at odds with the great gods. There are many theories and suggestions, but what the Oracle suggested” —he tilted his head to the red-haired woman to his side— “was that Zeroth Armaments, in particular those that primarily function as weapons, and the great gods are fated to be antagonists. This rivalry can extend towards their would-be and current users.”

“Fated?” Gaius felt a twinge of aberrance towards that word. “What’s with that?”

“Wish I knew too,” said the Pinnacle. “Sofia?”

The Oracle cleared her throat. “Even without the use of my own Unique Skill, by simply looking through history, it’s easy to note that otherworlders and the users of Zeroth Armaments are very similar. In eras where people like Kolya don’t feature prominently, wielders of Zeroth Armaments take the stage.”

“Perhaps it is just an unfortunate set of circumstances,” she continued. “Both groups are nearly indistinguishable from each other when it comes to their traits — unbounded curiosity, a lack of common sense and an unrivalled drive to survive. The Holy Temple, prior to its destruction, served to crack down on otherworlders…and wielders of Zeroth Armaments were caught in the crossfire.”

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Though she said those words, Gaius had the feeling she didn’t believe in them all that much. Moving along with that line of thought, the boy pressed on and asked, “You don’t believe that?”

“Not when you have a Unique Skill like mine.” She paused. “It’s hard to describe, but I can vaguely sense the flow of…I don’t know, fate? It’s like threads extending out from everyone and everything, and by following those threads, I can guess what’s going to happen and when, based on the colour and intensity of the thread.”

“Can you do it for us?” Isabelle asked.

“I could, but telling anyone related to the interactions that occur later usually renders my predictions inaccurate,” said the Oracle. “And there’s a degree of unpredictability to it too. That little girl beside you and Gaius are examples of unpredictable people for the next day or so. There are simply too many threads for me to even look at.”

“For the next day…” Gaius tilted his head. “Does that mean that your ability varies from day to day?”

“On your current circumstances, actually. For instance, if Kolya was actually doing his job properly, I would be able to foresee his movements and actions with high accuracy, since he’s deskbound.” She indicated her surroundings. “However, the moment he decides not to do any work, it’s a mess.”

Xanadu adjusted her hair. “I don’t see what that has to do with your beliefs, though. And where do I fall in your predictions?”

Sofia smiled. “You’re unable to be predicted. It’s like you shouldn’t even exist. I want to pick you apart to see how such an aberration is possible, but Orb needs all the fighters it can get. And as for your first question…”

The humour faded from her smile. “For the past twelve years, ever since the death of one of the Human God’s familiar spirits back then, a thread has appeared above everyone’s heads. It shoots into the sky, before splitting into two parts. One buries itself deep within Orb, and the other continues into the heavens. Even the great gods — their Divine Kingdoms — are not spared from this.”

“How about the Wildlands?” Gaius asked.

She narrowed her eyes slightly. “I can also see the same thing. Millions of threads rising into the sky…and presumably even more plunging into the ground. We’ve seen this war coming for the longest of times, but no one knew when it would start. In our hubris, we repurposed our industries to equip an aggressive force, but who knew that the Great Divide would fall in four years?”

The ice-cream parlour was silent for a few moments. Most of the waiters had what looked like earmuffs on their heads, to prevent them from listening into the conversation, but these professionals were more than able to read to the mood.

“So we should thank the Lifespring’s murderers for buying us some time, eh?”

“Yes and no,” said Kolya. “For one, the Lifespring’s familiar spirits have split up. One has withdrawn from the world entirely, in the hopes that they could become the next Conrah; we’ve lost a lot of fighting power right there. Whether or not they succeed in the next four years is a bet no one’s going to make. But for us, the four years brought have been a lifesaver.”

“And when that time comes, we will extend an invitation to you, Lost Star.” The Oracle smiled. “This world belongs to us all. And I think you would rather join us, than the Human God.”

“We’ll see about that.”

“Very well. Now, let’s move on to lighter matters. You’re now a student of the Phrontistery of Scientific Reasoning, no?”

“Yes, and?”

“It’s quite a diverse place, which is why I have a mission for the three of you,” said the Oracle. “And you too, Phantom Blade. Don’t think I don’t know what you’ve been up to.”

“Erk.”

“Are you going to be our classmate too?” Nakama asked, her eyes alight as they focused on Xanadu.

“I-in a manner of speaking.” The Phantom Blade coughed, and then turned back to the Oracle. Evidently, she too had a weakness for kids, and it was then that Gaius found her rather pleasing to the eyes.

“Anyway, there’s something I need you two to do…”