They walked into an alleyway, “It’s a shortcut,” Stelle had said; and she was right. Their proximity to Ulai’s plaza was indicated by the loudness of voices, as the bartering of merchants and sounds of haggling echoed off the parallel walls more and more, Rene knew they were getting closer.
It was crowded indeed, just as Stelle had said. Rows upon rows of colorful tents and market stalls overflowed with streams of people filled Rene’s vision as the narrow walls of the alleyway were replaced by sky.
Rene’s eyes dashed around now legible red text littered around the marketplace; handwritten on the signs hung up by every stall, embroidered upon the roofs of the fancy tents, and- hold on–
At an intersection, Rene paused in his steps and stared at one of the posters nailed to the notice board: a man carrying a large smile sat cheerfully upon a silver throne. “The Toilet! No Smell!” were written in bold red lettering above and beneath him.
“Interesting, I’ve never seen those fogies at the table take action so quickly.” Stelle leaned in from Rene’s side, “To be advertising something that’s still patent pending… they must’ve been rather impressed by your Toilet.” She gave Rene a light nudge.
Such a sight gave Rene a strange feeling. Was something as fancy as a toilet considered the cutting edge of technology here? Perhaps he should re-evaluate this world’s technological level.
The people of the market suddenly began collectively turning their heads upwards. Intrigued, Rene followed their gaze. High above, amidst the vast expanse of the open sky, Rene's eyes caught sight of a small, elusive silhouette.
A bird?
No, a plane?
…
Is that- ?
“The flying speed's a bit too slow for rank 5, a rank 4 maybe?” Stelle nonchalantly comments while shielding her eyes from the sun, “Or perhaps they were trying to conserve essence?”
“You can fly!?” Rene blurted out.
“As a rank 3?” Stelle lightly chuckled, “Hardly, I’d have to supplement myself with Soli while in the air. It’s a bit expensive for my tastes.”
As the duo walked through the marketplace, one of the stall owners approached Stelle and tried to hand her a pamphlet of some kind. She brushed him off and continued explaining.
“There’s also the hassle of learning how to control the formations and obtaining a flying license. The latter of which the city charges an outrageous price for. But with the worsening traffic congestion of Old Cessa however, I just might need to make the sacrifice.”
The shock of seeing a person flying overhead? faded as Rene was distracted by the glowing gemstones and mysterious trinkets peddled by the market booth owners around him. The view of the seemingly endless stalls ahead of him was a far more impactful sight. All Rene could now think about was the distance left to travel.
My feet hurt.
However technologically advanced this world was over Earth, it certainly doesn’t overrule Earth in shoe manufacturing. Or maybe he was just out of shape.
Just as Rene was debating whether it would be polite for him to ask “Are we there yet?” Stelle made a sharp right turn, and he saw their destination. A circular plaza with a triple tiered fountain in the center, it was identical to when he last visited with Saffry.
Seeing the crowd gathered around here, Rene was prompted to recall how Stelle had described Cessa. Specifically, she had called it ‘diverse’, yet the percentage of Lustrians Rene saw didn’t surpass 20% of everyone he counted, and he had only spotted one or two Perenians in total.
Obviously, this couldn’t compare to the multicultural cities of Earth, but at least in the case of Temperance, it made sense why such a city could be considered ‘diverse’.
Besides the total darkness for all foreigners, the strand of light, the most cultivated strand in Lustrious, is suppressed here. Since the darkness can be negated by glasses or contacts, the suppression might actually be the main reason why people don’t go abroad.
However, since Cessa is so far away from the Aphelion formation, being near the center of the continent, these negative effects would be at a minimum. So at least compared to the other cities of Aphelion, it would make sense for Cessa to be the prime destination for anyone planning to visit or to start a new life in another region.
Hold on, doesn’t this mean the other cities are even darker? How is that even possible? There’s gotta be a point where it can’t go any further right? There’s also that other side effect of staying in Aphelion, it was that “one would lose their sense of direction”. Have I experienced that yet? Maybe at the beginning when I was wandering around the streets? Then again, I was also blind and concussed, so it’s impossible to tell whether I was influenced by the region or it was just myself; losing your sense of direction is a pretty serious side effect, it’s probably more evident in the cities closer to the Aphelion formation.
Rene looked at Stelle, who was currently digging around her pocket; he thought about asking her about what the outer cities were like but then shook his head when he realized he wouldn’t receive a satisfying answer. It’s not like she could experience the plight of anyone foreign to Aphelion.
With all things considered, perhaps he should consider himself lucky that out of all the places he could have ended up, it was Cessa.
“It should be that tent over there.” Stelle remarked as she finished studying the note Merlot gave her.
The tent in question was far smaller than the merchant stalls in its surroundings; it bore a resemblance to the kind of tent that one might expect a fortune teller or psychic to use.
As the duo approached it, the scribblings on the tent’s closed flaps eventually became legible. It read: ‘Soul Accuracy Survey, Ensured’.
Wait, doesn’t ‘Soul Survey, Accuracy Ensured’ make much more sense? But ‘Soul’, and ‘Survey’ are written on the same tent flap, with ‘Accuracy’ and ‘Ensured’ occupying the other; so reading it from left to right, it would say ‘Soul Accuracy Survey, Ensured’.
Am I supposed to read everything top to bottom on one flap and then move on to the other? But books in Aphelion are formatted to be read left to right then from top to bottom, why was this specific sign different? Or is ‘Soul Accuracy Survey, Ensured’ truly the intended messag– Oh, we’re already inside.
“Customers,” The voice came from an old lady hunched over a lone table at the center of the tent. She was a Lustrian, featuring the characteristic brown skin and curly hair, of which extended to below her waist. Draped over her scrawny form were a series of colorful garments, which matched the equally polychromatic tent interior. A scruffy hat lay on her head.
She turned Stelle upon hearing her enter, allowing Rene to see her face. Decorated with wrinkles, the most notable feature of her face were the eyes: They were closed; a formation adorned each shut eyelid, giving the illusion that her eyes were open.
“Welcome, how might I be of assistance today?” She says in a scratchy voice.
Stelle appeared to have no reaction to the woman’s appearance. “Are you capable of identifying the type of essences saturating one’s soul?”
“I am”, the elder answered with a small nod. The formations on her eyes then briefly flashed a blackish purple light. “But you, madam, are an accomplished sourcerer. Of the information that I could share, what could you possibly not be already aware of?”
“No no, I won’t be needing a survey today,” Stelle motioned towards Rene standing beside her. “I’d like you to survey my friend’s soul.”
“Your friend?” The elder pivoted her head to Rene, who found it rather easy to maintain eye contact with formations for eyes.
Said formations then briefly flashed with the same darkish purple light as they had earlier, and the elder’s expression immediately shifted. The wrinkles on forehead grew ever more pronounced; the skin of her eyelids flattened and stretched in accordance to a pair of raised eyebrows.
“A void…” She mutters.
“Excuse me?” Stelle raises a brow, her tone incredulous.
“With the silhouette of a man…” The formations flash again, and again—they flicker continuously like a faulty lightbulb. “I-I cannot see…”
Rene feels that a hand is placed on his shoulder, “Let’s go.” Stelle says, having already turned around to leave.
Seeing that the old lady had abruptly gone mad, Rene nods, and following Stelle they–
“Madam, please wait–” The elder calls out from behind them, giving pause to Stelle who had already halfway opened the tent flap.
“I call it [Soul Sight]; it is a formation of my own design.” The elder outstretches a bony arm from underneath her garments and points a finger at her eye. “They allow me to peer into the very depths of a soul. From but one shallow examination of your soul I glean that you cultivate the strand of metal despite having higher aptitude for another.”
Higher aptitude for another? Rene looked to Stelle to see her face twitch in response.
Whatever that meant, it certainly caught Stelle’s attention. She went from a side eye glance to fully turning around to face the old lady.
“I’ve met many soul strand sourcerers, from Cessa’s most exceptional to the very best of Fallspar; but I’ve never seen anyone using such a convenient technique, nor have I even heard of anyone mention something similar.”
“The downsides of my method are not little. As you can see, madam, I am blind.”
So she is blind. I wonder if that’s the reason she set up shop in Cessa, the darkness wouldn’t make a difference to her after all.
The elder continued, “The eyes are the window to the soul, the formations must be drawn there. But the eyelid is too thin and fragile to sustain the necessary amount of essence required for such a formation without disintegrating, even if one were rank 4.”
”In return for my sight, was the gift to peer into souls;” The elder shook her head, as she reminisced with a regretful tone, “It was a nasty exchange, but now I have an ability only rank 5s might dream to possess. This is why I leave my [Soul Sight] formations uncovered, the threat of plagiarism is negated by the cost to cultivate such a technique. And for those that have the resolve to surrender their sight, I do not mind sharing this beautiful view with them, even if it is in conflict with my business.”
“This was why I became so surprised when I saw your partner, [Soul Sight] has never failed me before.” The elder turned to Rene, her ‘eyes’ flashing once more. “All that I see is an abyss, one void of any souls, or wills.”
Bingo! She really is an expert!
Stelle crossed her arms, “As a self-proclaimed soul surveyor, you’ve just given me a lengthy explanation on how you’re incapable of performing the one task expected of you; why should we remain here any longer?”
“I have my methods,” The elder replied as she got up from her chair with great effort and approached Rene. Her gait was uneven as she walked, and once she stopped in front of Rene, the elder reached out her boney right arm from under her clothes. Contrary to her other left arm, an intricate sprawl of deep red formations covered with right like a sleeve tattoo. Stemming from the depths of her clothing, the sequence of formations extended to her forearm, hand, and even fingernails.
Rene staggered half a step backwards when the hand was suddenly pressed to his chest.
Just as he predicted, the hand then began flashing a dark purple light. The web of formations which wrapped around the hand blinked with a completely random pattern, but if one looked long enough, it was obvious each blink had a purposeful subtext. It was a strange sensation, similar to the paranoia and tinglyness one feels when someone stares at them from the back; only this time it was from the front.
The elder’s wrinkly face contorts in concentration. Rene nearly stumbles backwards as further pressure is applied by the hand.
Time passes as nobody speaks a word. However, the tent isn’t silent; a cacophony of voices emanating from the outside fill the air after being muffled and distorted by the walls.
“Faint, but I feel it.” She finally utters.
“A vernal soul untainted by the traces of cultivation.”
What?
A stream of questions immediately rushed to his mind: did he always have a soul, or was it just the effect of this planet? Did Lorn have any involvement in this, or was this old hag scamming them with lies? This unending barrage of inquiries was forcibly stopped when he compelled himself to continue listening to the conversation.
“There’s nothing?” Stelle asks, “Then how does my partner’s soul differ that of a regular mortal’s? I ask this because his blood is not accepted by the cities’ ID formations.”
“I… I detect the fleeting remnants of… the strand of space– yes, this is certainly space essence. But it is slowly decaying, only a miniscule amount remains.”
“There is also— oh yes, I am familiar with this strand: Ice essence. It is rapidly decomposing, but I sense far more of it within you. Hmm… From the essence’s half life and what remains of it, I estimate this ice essence is no more than two days old.”
“Then, this is… strange… I-I, a-apologies, it would appear I do not recognise the remnants of this strand. However, I can tell you that this is the most recent of the strands I detected, you’ve likely encountered this dose yesterday.”
The elder continued surveying Rene’s soul for a few more minutes before ending with a “That is all. Mere temporary inflictions.”
Stelle leaned in to whisper in Rene’s ear: “The ice essence is likely from when we went to New Cessa Academy, as a result of drinking the icy water ere we entered the department of fire. The unknown strand the surveyor talked about is probably referencing the ‘electricity’ we experimented with yesterday. I believe you ingested some to test out its potency, yes?”
Ingested… Well, it’s not too far from the truth. He awkwardly nodded in response.
From these interactions, it would seem that my soul is protected by my body. Only stuff I eat or inject into myself seems to influence it, or else it would have been filled with fire essence from the department of fire or metal essence from Mr. Siluvar’s workshop.
Stelle continued, “But as for the strand of space… I’m not certain of its origin. Perhaps you encountered it before signing father’s contract?”
Strand of space… it deals with space… empty space… the fabric of spacetime…
Rene’s eyes widened in realization when the voice of a familiar dunce entered his mind.
Saffry… teleportation…
Thankfully, Stelle stood slightly behind him, so nobody witnessed his disgustingly obvious reaction.
Rene whispered back, “I-I don’t recall.”
“Neither the strand of ice or space capable of making the ID formation unresponsive” Stelle spoke to the surveyor, “Nor is the strand which you didn’t recognise.”
The elder didn’t try to pry into the strand of electricity, it didn’t take much to recognise from all the whispering that this was a private business.
“Then the issue lies not with the soul. But with the flesh.” Her eyes flash, and she turns to Rene. “Young sir, if you are only just now attempting to register for an ID, I suppose that you come from abroad. “Are you a fellow kindred perhaps? Which region are you from? I am not familiar with your accent.”
“N-no, I’m not from Lustrious.”
“Oh? A Perenian? That might explain it.” The elder forwards a curious smile, “Though I am still new to Cessa, it is quite clear that this city has a bias against those descended from mist.”
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“I’m not a Perenia either. I-I’m… from Arthas.”
“Arthas?” The elder asks, surprised. “The living island? The fable colossal cephalopod? You are descended from the Monad of Life?”
“I guess…”
“I see,” The elder says figuratively, “That must explain it…”
“What does?” Stelle asks.
“My [Soul Sight] works much in the way a regular eye does. But different to how an eye sees by absorbing the phenomena of light, I perceive through absorbing the essence of soul.”
“However, for me, there is no sun for which illuminates my surroundings. In order to see, I must briefly become the sun.” The elder eyes’ flash as the inside of the tent is briefly filled with a dark purple light.
So it’s like echolocation? But if she says she can see souls, then the soul essence she emits must be echoing directly off the person’s soul. But isn’t the body in the way? The soul is inside the body right?
“This was one of the reasons I came to Cessa. The dynamic properties of Aphelion bodies allow for a clearer visage; their souls are always the brightest. The flesh of my kin deflect most of the essence I release; little essence is reflected back by their soul, and thus they appear darker.”
“But you…” The elder turns to Rene, prompting him to squint through another bright flash of purple, “Not even the eyes…” She whispers under her breath.
“I have heard that Artharians possess unique abilities and powers beyond comprehension. I confront that truth now.”
She called me a ‘void’ the first time she scanned me… Nope, I don’t understand a thing.
“Do you not believe me, madam?” The elder turns to Stelle, who was observing with a stern expression, and detects her suspicion without even [Soul Sight]. “A simple test would prove my words.”
Stelle hesitates, then uncrosses her arms.
“Excuse me for a moment,” she says, dragging him over to the table to lay his hand on it. “I’m going to draw a formation on your hand, tell me when you begin to feel a sting.”
“Oh– ok.”
Without taking off her glove, Stelle held her index like a pen and traced a red circle on Rene’s palm. Perhaps he should feel disturbed by the fact that a person was drawing a ritual circle on his hand with their own blood, but Rene could only think of one thing.
Heehee hand tickly.
The traces were then drawn, and the formation was filled in. Despite it appearing like abstract art, Rene could somehow instinctively tell this formation was created by fire or electricity.
Probably the strand of metal. He guessed.
“Do you feel anything?” Stelle asks upon drawing the last line.
“It’s wet,” Rene says, stating the obvious. “And also warm?”
The color of the formation instantly shifts from a bloody red to a dark grey.
“What about now?” Stelle asks again.
“It no longer feels wet.”
The red noticeably fades as the formation lightens in color.
“Any other differences?”
“No difference.”
The formation lightens once more.
“Now?”
“Nope.”
Their conversation quickly becomes non verbal. Stelle would look at Rene each time the glow of the formation intensified, only for him to shake his head.
Eventually, the once red formation is coated with a metallic sheen, as if it had been plated with nickel. As the lines became shiny enough for Rene to see his reflection, he noticed that the formation had begun vibrating. But before he could inform Stelle of the change…
Ping!
The metallic shine of the formation instantly vanish as the formation shatters with a sharp chime. The silver lines disappear, leaving a trail of red dust in its stead.
“Rank 1.” Stelle comments.
Rene takes a glance at the elder observing on the side; a dim but steady purple glow filled her eyes while a small curve shaped her lips.
Seeing that a stranger was watching him so intensely, any desire he had to ask Stelle what the hell was going on faded into oblivion.
“Let’s try rank 2.” Said Stelle as she prepared to draw another formation on Rene’s palm.
The initial process was much the same from the rank 1 formation, albeit Rene noticed some differences between how the traces inside the circle were drawn this time. Once everything within the first ring was filled out, Stelle moved her hand to draw a second outer ring.
A small gap was left between the two rings due to the size difference, and within this margin, the traces which ended at the first ring were all intricately connected to the second in a seemingly random, yet ordered way. The way Stelle filled out this margin was also something of note. Unlike how Rene would have drawn these rank 2 traces: Starting from one point and going around in a circle, Stelle’s finger would randomly bounce around from one side to another, as if she had to draw everything in a specific order.
“Wonderous calligraphy madam.” The elder commented from the side, to which Stelle ignored.
Once the formation was finished, the questioning phase began. Stelle would ask if Rene could feel anything on his hand to which Rene would always answer no. But this time, the formation didn't simply alter its hue, it emitted a radiant silver glow. Each time Rene shook his head, the brilliance of the glow would increase until the inside of the tent was draped in chrome. It shone as brightly as a lightbulb, forcing Rene to squint in order to see through the radiance.
As Rene shook his head one last time, the once stable platinum light of the formation began pulsing—wavering. The formation also started to vibrate, creating the illusion that the entire tent was shaking as the shadows cast by the light danced crazily alongside its source.
CLANG!
An ear splitting crack resembling metal striking metal accompanied the formation sundering itself into silver dust.
“Madam, worry not about the consequences of overloading a rank 3 formation.” The elder sets down her hands from covering her ears, speaking once the ringing fully dissipates. “This tent is not without its defenses you see, interior included—for troublesome guests.”
“No, I’ve seen enough.” Searching through her pocket, Stelle produces a few opaque coins—a few Soli, and places them on the table. “Thank you for your service.” She says, gesturing for Rene to leave with her.
Outside the tent, Rene immediately opened his mouth with the intent of asking questions, but the insightful Stelle was one step ahead of him.
“Did you notice the formations she drew over her arm?” She asked.
Rene nodded.
“That is the racial trait of the Lustrian people. Aphelions like me can’t do that.”
“You can’t?”
“Let me explain from the start.” Stelle says, straightening her suit jacket. “Formations are just 2-D drawings, and while phenomena is created in the center, there’s no back or front; it’s free to come out of both sides.”
“That’s why we almost always draw formations on something, as to both control the direction of output and provide structural integrity. But this means that the material a formation is drawn on has to resist the essence passing through the formation. We describe anything that has resistive properties as static.”
Static… Static substances… which are opposite to dynamic substances like blood that allow essence to pass through them. It’s kinda like insulating or conducting materials in terms of electricity.
“What happens when you draw a formation on a dynamic surface?” Rene queried.
“The essence passing through the formation will seep into the substrate, causing damage, make traces form underneath the surface, and sometimes the surface will outright disintegrate from the essence having nowhere to go.”
Conductive wires must be surrounded by an insulating exterior to ensure that the electricity would go the right way. I see… drawing a formation on a dynamic surface is like dropping a circuit in water—it’ll short circuit.
“I assume Aphelion skin is dynamic then? Meaning Lustrian skin is static?” Rene asked.
“That’s right. We draw our formations on external equipment instead.” Stelle holds up her gloves to show Rene, ”This is our racial trait. Though we can’t draw on our skin, we can transmit essence over a distance. Lustrians can only power formations drawn on their body.”
Rene had a feeling there was now enough information to decipher what had happened in the tent. He recalled what that soul surveyor had said.
She described Aphelion souls as appearing the brightest, Lustrian souls are darker because their bodies resist foreign essence. And me…
A shiver went down his spine.
She called me the void…
“When you drew those formations on my hand…” Rene looked at his palm, aside from a paper cut he had given himself yesterday, there were no marks left from Stelle’s experiment.
“It was a test to see how static your skin is.”
“So how static is it?”
Was there no pain? Did you really feel nothing from the rank 2 formation?”
Rene shook his head.
Stelle glanced at him, her expression one hiding her disbelief. “Then rank 3, at the very least. Maybe even rank 4.”
“...what does that mean?”
“If I drew my formation on a Lustrian, they would have to at least be rank 2 in order to avoid having their hand being completely eviscerated from the shards of metal that would form underneath their skin; even then, they would not leave unharmed when I overloaded the formation.”
And I’m rank 0…
“And you, on the other hand, have no rank.” Stelle continued, “Then again, you’re also not from this continent; perhaps I’m comparing you against the wrong people.” She cleared her throat. “Our trip today has been very insightful. I had been operating under the notion that your blood was dynamic, like Aphelions, and to a degree, Lustrians as well. But if your blood is as static as your skin, no ID formation in the world can register you directly.”
“But don’t worry,” Stelle assured Rene with a smile, “I’ll think of something.”
Splash Splash
Both Stelle and Rene’s heads turned at the same time, their attention now drawn to the source of the splashing: Ulai’s fountain. They had inexplicably walked here while they talked.
“If I’m not mistaken, this is where you were found, was it not? Do you recall anything beforehand?” Stelle asked.
“Beforehand…”
Different strands interfere with each other, and if teleportation is related somehow to the space strand it can be interfered with as well.
“I don’t remember, sorry…” Rene replied, while scratching his cheek.
“You needn’t apologize.”
But what strand interfered? It’s something in the library; the Sublime Symposium, that’s the last place Saffry and I went to before everything went wrong.
“Stelle, may I ask something?”
“Yes?”
“You mentioned the Sublime Symposium was built by Asperials right? Do you know who they were? What strands they cultivated?”
“Well,” Stelle said with a finger on her chin, “I don’t know their names, if that is what you’re asking for; but since anyone involved with the Sublime Symposium’s construction would’ve been a follower of Sublime Spirit, they most likely cultivated soul strand.”
The strand of soul… Wondrous… A strand based on something I just learned existed five minutes ago.
“Sublime Spirit? What’s that?” Rene asked to gather more information.
Stelle gave him a look, one which he was used to seeing. It was a look she would make every time he asked a horrendously stupid question.
“She– Asperial Monad Sublime Spirit was the sixth person to achieve rank 9. She primarily cultivated the strand of soul. The Sublime Symposium was built in her name.”
“Oh.”
As he understood, the Monads were basically gods in this world. Being unaware of the identities of any of them was equivalent to not knowing Jesus. No, the prominence of each of the nine Monads surpassed even Jesus’ popularity on Earth. Their fame was comparable to that Italian plumber in blue overalls, not knowing who they were was out of this world.
Well it’s not my fault the names of these Monads are so goofy. Sublime Spirit? What the hell is a Spirit? Bloody hell, you cultivate the soul strand! Why not Sublime Soul??
That’s it. I’m asking the question. I can’t embarrass myself any further today anyways.
“Um, why… are the names of the Monads so… untraditional?”
“Untraditional? As in Sublime Spirit?”
“Uh… I mean all of them.”
“Untraditional… I see what you mean. They’re essentially courtesy names—titles that they’ve given themselves. We know the real names of a few Monads, but we address them in the way they prefer.”
“What was Sublime Spirit’s real name?”
“Hm, let me think…” Stelle contemplated with her head facing the sky.
“Aspira. That’s it, Aspira. Though I’m not sure whether it’s her first, last, or middle name.”
Aspira…
“Sorry, could you wait here at the fountain for a moment?” Stelle said, adjusting her suit jacket. “I just need to quickly use the washroom.”
“Oh, of course.”
Seeing Stelle walk off into the crowds of people, Rene’s thoughts shifted to the new information he learned today.
Static… My skin is static… Is this a consequence of being from Earth or is it because of Lorn’s meddling? Has my body really been replaced by machines?
He organized the substances he knew to be organic or dynamic into two separate groups. From this, Rene noticed that there appears to be a bias of organic things being more dynamic than static.
Blood was the most obvious example; be it from an Aphelion, one of those trimmers, and to an extent, Lustrians as well—at least, their blood was dynamic enough to be recognised by an ID formation.
As for the static substances, he knew that formations were usually drawn on the sides of buildings and other inanimate objects. Lustrian skin was an outlier however; but should he ignore this as a one time exception? After all, he wasn’t aware of substances that were both dynamic, and inorganic.
Wait, Stelle has formations drawn on her gloves, but what are they made of? They don’t look leathery… Is it cotton? Silk? Does that count as organic or not?
Huh, even nylon or polyester are extracted from petroleum, which is formed from the remains of ancient organisms. What exactly counts as organic? Being made of carbon? But so are diamonds… Crap, I’m lost.
Rene sighed. Trying to categorize dynamic or static substances was wrong to begin with.
He looked at his right palm; the place Stelle had drawn the formation. Recalling his time with Saffry, it was this hand which the recorders and the probes formed from, this was also the hand that he used to absorb the red lights. If any part of his body had been replaced by a machine, Rene’s first guess would be his hand.
If she placed the formation anywhere else, would the results have been different?
Finding no leads, the sounds of splashing water entered Rene’s consciousness as his previous thoughts faded.
Perhaps I’ll only know for certain once I absorb the last red light. Rene thought as he took notice of the triple decker fountain he once climbed to the top of.
He gazed at the fountain’s tip, which no longer glowed red.
It’s a lot larger in person. Looking down upon it from when I planted the recorder doesn’t do justice to its size.
The first level of the fountain was nearly 5 meters in diameter, and it was chest level away from the ground.
These steps are a lot steeper than I remember.
"Thief! Thief!" A sharp voice pierces the air. Rene instinctively spins around, and in a split second, he catches sight of a shadowy figure darting away from him, stumbling on the uneven cobblestones.
Sprawled out on the ground was a young child, her tattered clothes caked in mud; disheveled blonde locks cling to her face.
Rene’s hand frantically goes to his pocket, where he placed the coin Stelle gave him.
Still there–
"No! I..." The girl's voice trembles, her wide pupils quivering with fear and desperation. Her words falter as she struggles to explain herself.
Suddenly, a gasp escapes her lips, and her fragile form crumples to the ground. Her trembling arms give way, sending her sprawling into the dirt. The bustling sounds of the surroundings fade into silence, interrupted only by the gentle splashes of the nearby fountain.
The onlookers, captivated by the unexpected turn of events, turn their attention to the fallen girl. A hushed circle forms around the girl as people hastily exit her periphery.
In his bewilderment, Rene takes an involuntary step backward, his heel colliding with the fountain's base.
With her second attempt, the girl regains her footing. She swiftly maneuvered through the startled crowd, desperately trying to escape. However, sheher escape was abruptly halted as a pair of forceful fingers, belonging to a burly Aphelion woman, clasped tightly around her arm.
The girl's face contorted in pain, the color of her arm turning even paler under the pressure. She let out a piercing screech, her voice filled with anguish.
"My arm! My arm!” She pleaded, her cries echoing through the bustling square. “Let go! Let go! Let go!"
Without faltering, the imposing woman marched towards Rene, dragging the screaming girl behind her.
"Return what you stole," the woman commanded, her voice laced with authority, as her stern gaze bore down on the frightened girl.
"I-I didn't steal! I didn't take anything!" the girl protested, her voice quivering with a mixture of fear and desperation. Tears welled up in her eyes as she struggled against the woman’s grip. "I swear! Believe me!"
Rene had seen enough, the words of the girl were true; he opened his mouth to speak.
“She–”
Slap
A crisp noise of flesh hitting flesh sounded across the plaza as the woman struck with her backhand. The cries of the girl immediately cease, as does her struggling. Her moist eyes turn vapid, hollow, fixating on the ground below.
Drip–
Drip–
A rhythmic drip echoed in the air, drawing attention to the crimson spots that dotted the cobblestones. They appeared below the woman's left hand, below a white ring which now oozed red.
Drip–
Drip–
More red spots began staining the ground on which the girl stood. Emerging from a deep, bloody gash on the girl’s pale cheek, the droplets leaked down her face in a macabre trail.
"The rotten words of a thief," the woman mutters, her irritation palpable. She turns to Rene with a soft smile. "Sir, could you please check if you're missing..."
Her voice trails off, and the woman’s gaze turns into a focused stare.
"I-I'm sorry... your eyes..." she whispers, as she leaned closer.