Always so noisy.

Errath has always preferred the accuracy of the microscope to his own senses. There have yet to be any made that can surpass him in accuracy or range, but microscopes, at least, are singular in their aim, direct in their sight. He wonders how many would pursue Research, as he has, if they could hear all those microbes screaming.

And now, as he stares out into the world, he still hears them. Louder, even. All for a meaningless little spill.

Always so damned noisy. It’s a miracle he ever gets anything done.

“Senior Researcher? Bring me a new set of clamps. This one is getting worn down.”

A large and furred hand delivers the requisite tool promptly, though he struggles with the weight of it. The world warps slightly as he lets go of it, letting it fall into Errath’s hand. It cuts through the air as he deftly twirls it, its mass dragging in the dust from all around- and an exercise of will is enough to banish it back, leaving the tool pristine, glowing with jade and altered metals.

With a well-practiced motion, the Grand Researcher of the Division of Altered Cultivation and Research clamps shut a valve and its offshoots, re-securing the beating Heart on the table before him as it struggles and fails to beat.

But not entirely. Can’t let such a useful subject die, after all. Whether they make a Palace or a weapon out of it, Hearts like this are rare.

“Have I told you my theory on these little darlings?” Errath asks his assistant, his eyes tuned only for his project. “Fascinating things. Some believe them a natural occurrence, but I wonder! Their grasp on molecular formulae is still surpasses all but my own knowledge, and even there, it’s a challenge. Hard to believe a natural Qi-locus would have the mind to create as they do, even with a few millennia. I wonder, sometimes, if they weren’t planted beforehand. Part of the Will of Heaven, perhaps, a way to secure a world against the void beyond and the End.”

“Perhaps, master.”

“But then, perhaps not. I think that they may be cast-off pieces of the greater beings above. They grow, free from the gods above, forming a world around themselves, multiplying. Perhaps that’s all this world is, hmm? A spawning cluster of cast-off God-flesh.”

“Perhaps.”

“I doubt it. If only for my own sake, I would like to believe that true flesh of higher beings wouldn’t be so easy to cut and shape. It would be such a shame to grow beyond this world and find nothing with which to learn from.”

The Heart on the table shudder-beats again, pushed to its limits to keep itself alive, highlighting the veins and formation-formulae that are required to do so. Errath takes careful notes, excising a chunk of his own brain matter into his other selves to preserve a snapshot of memory while replacing it with a fresh chunk- and then makes a very precise, very careful incision.

The Heart shudder-beats even weaker this time, but it does still move. Fascinating. A redundancy, or simply a more robust system than originally seen? So many times, he has done this, and every time, the result differs ever so slightly. By about 0.3%. Far too much to simply allow, and far too much not to require additional study.

Now, to wait, and record if the Heart fades and rots like the others. It’s always easier to build them back up after Qi-deprivation has done its damage than it is to train them from scratch, but it’s a delicate balance.

“So, how is that little pet-project of yours?” he asks.

His assistant, to his credit, doesn’t hesitate. “Apologies, Grandmaster. I’m afraid this lowly Researcher has many ongoing projects of interest.”

“Of course, of course. And congratulations are in order for at least one of them, no? The cast-off cutting from the Garden. I hear it received an invitation back into the fold. Considering your genteel tactics, it was expected that that one would die before such a success came to pass.”

“You honor me with your statement, Grandmaster. There have been other notable successes, however.”

“Yes, yes, your little corpse-friend, I am aware. Small steps, but progress is progress, I suppose. Tell me, does it still believe itself multiple?”

“Its self-perception remains accurate, Grandmaster, and recent acquisitions from the eastern conflict have allowed some small steps in improving its stability.”

“Hmm. How you find time for so many little distractions, I’ll never know. Truly a harder-working Researcher I have yet to find. It’s admirable, considering your start.”

Errath smiles at the barely-noticeable rumble of displeasure in his assistant’s throat. It’s buried so deep it might as well not exist, but the crackle of one, two, three synapses in sequence tells him all he needs to know.

“This lowly Researcher has felt that the weakness of his birth has been well-offset by my formative education in these hallowed halls.”

“HAH! Well put, Taurus. It’ll be such a shame when you die.”

The towering figure of his assistant smiles, his teeth beautifully square and well-evolved for his chosen cultivation. “This lowly Researcher will surely be disappointed to burden the Grandmaster with my eventual passing.”

“Mmh. Wouldn’t be so much of an issue if you’d just pop that little bubble of yours. There are more than a few potential rituals to limit the rampage of that little thing you keep locked in there, you know. I might even be tempted to see just how special a thing you’ve made of that personal pet project.”

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

The smile quiets, losing the teeth and gaining the perfect amount of politeness. A sequence of three-million and seventy eight hundred synapses fires in sequence to it, like little firecrackers to Errath’s ears. “I would not dare burden the Grandmaster with my own lackluster progress through cultivation. It would wound this lowly Researcher’s heart to disappoint you with the flawed structure of progression I have achieved.”

“And yet!” Errath says, his own smile wide, though he does not turn his eyes to the beastblood yet. “You carry more Qi than some Warrior realm fools I know, boy, and I can only imagine just how tightly wound that Core of yours is. Really, it’s embarrassing- conventional Research states quite clearly that stress and tension, prolonged over a significant period, lead to long-term damage to the system. What a pity it would be, to lose the hardest working Nascent Soul cultivator in the Empire over a little… insecurity.”

“You honor me with your wisdom, Grandmaster. I shall do my level best to ensure that your expectations are met, and continue to seek the completion of my Nascent Soul.”

Now, Errath does turn his eyes to his pupil, dragging his attention away from the Heart and its weak little struggles.

As his attention slides fully onto the beast-blood, the world begins to bend. The glow of an impossible star, radiant and alien and in his eye sockets turns itself to face the creature beside him, which has so shown its strength in the last few months.

He sees how the subject’s muscles begin to literally burn, radiated by his attention. He watches how the fur begins to smolder in a way that holds no heat, how the internal organs and synaptic systems begin to struggle under his gaze. And yet, his newest Senior Researcher does not bend, or so much as twitch, holding himself perfectly still.

Errath’s eyes wander lovingly over the marks that decorate his subject’s meridians, carved ever so gently into the ur-self behind even the soul. He watches how they come to life under his attention, ready to convince the subject to obey any command, to tell him everything he needs to know about the being they collar. He looks at the perfect little sphere in the subject’s Dantian, packed so densely that even his eyes have to squint if he wants to see through the layers.

He can see every thought in that precious little bovine skull. He can see the half-shadows that move back from his ur-self, the notes of fate and causality that would surely link the subject to all sorts of devious little projects and tools.

If only he felt inclined to check, he could see everything that the subject is and will be, as easily as taking a peek through a microscope.

The subject knows that Errath knows, and Errath knows that the subject knows that he knows.

He smiles, his own teeth a bright white that reflects the light of his eyes.

“It has been such a pleasure watching you grow,” he says, not without fondness. “Thorough waste to kill you, really. Can’t even imagine the paperwork at this point.”

“It is this one’s honor to free up so much of the Grandmaster’s schedule.”

Errath gives out a cackle, throwing his head back. “Indeed! Where would all these other scientists be without your loving patience and willingness to take on ever so much responsibility. Truly, it is a wonder to see a Senior Researcher so thoroughly respected by his peers.”

“I live only to serve, master.”

Errath turns back to the Heart, restoring the missing micro-rune and modifying a different one, checking how it slows the decay process further. “So you do, Taurus. You’ve never forgotten that. It’s what’s brought this far, really- that, and that delightful little mind of yours. A pity it’s wasted on such a fool.”

“If this one’s foolishness has insulted the Grandmaster-”

“On the contrary, boy, it’s entertaining to watch. I remember how fascinated I was by my own Soul at first. Took me months to get the courage to eat it, and even now, I still wonder. Such big decisions occur on their own time, and frankly, you’ve buried that thing so deep that I doubt it would make it out even if I ordered it to.”

“It might surprise you, Grandmaster.”

Errath turns back to the man-bull, looking at him directly. Tracking the flicker-steps of possibility, the winding threads of fate, the strange little jolts of microbes and bio-electricity through him.

“I thoroughly hope so, boy. So much of you is rapidly becoming predictable.”

The subject bows at the waist, as if honored by the words. “Such is only to be expected, Grandmaster. You Know Everything Eventually.”

“Hmph. Don’t toss my own Truths back at me, boy. Eventually does not mean I know nothing now. After all, you’ve yet to answer my question. How is that little pet-project of yours doing?”

For a few seconds, there is only the shuddering failure to beat from the thing on the table. The silence lays thick in the room, for precisely the amount of time that the subject knows he will allow, and then-

“Surprisingly well, master. Though it has slipped its leash, rather successfully, some small measures remain.”

“Hmm. And you’re quite certain it’s under your control?”

“Not at all, Grandmaster. If anything, its actions become harder to predict by the moment. The Division of Divination will soon see through the ruse.”

“Hmph. Fools think that there is only outcome, never much for the care of process. You have my permission to use my name if you need to. Speak to one of the Head Oracles, if need be. Your obfuscations have been surprisingly capable so far, but you cannot hide it forever. I would hate to see one of the Generals, or heavens forbid one of those Blade brutes, jump the gun and end such a promising experiment so soon.”

“As you say, Grandmaster.”

“And Taurus?”

“Yes, Grandmaster?”

“Good work. It’s encouraging to see such initiative, especially from one of your kind. You continue to impress upon me my success in your development.”

“Thank you, Grandmaster.”

“My patience is not infinite, however. You have two years to break through to the Warrior realm, whether or not you choose to contain or consume your Soul. That should give your plans just enough time to percolate, no?”

He feels a hesitation in his subject. It has gotten ever so good at falsifying its reactions, good enough that he can’t tell for certain if there’s any surprise in it anymore- but that’s part of the fun, isn’t it?

What is eternity without little divergences? Without a pet that can surprise you here and there?

“I believe so, master.”

“Good. Now hand me a chisel. I believe we’ve reached the maximum amount of useful data from this subject, and it would be a waste not to make something of it before it expires.”

A dozen of his selves watch the subject gathering the tools, struggling under their weight. Ideally, it would be someone specialized for this work assisting, but the subject’s knowledge of runes and strength are both well above average. Besides- it allows for conversations like this.

The subject wants him dead. As is only to be expected. He can see some of the shadows of fate on it, the connections from it to other tools and locations…

But it really has made itself useful. And when it springs its traps, Errath will spring his own.

A fun little diversion, and then he’ll make something useful out of the subject before it expires.

As the Heart does its best to keep itself alive, to struggle its way free, Errath once again begins to carve it into shape.