Chapter 107 - Enacting The Plan
"I have a plan."
The words prompted the scholar to push up his hat and look at Vern dubiously.
He took this as a sign to continue, "However, before I get ahead of myself, I'd like you to help me understand a couple things."
Cedric nodded.
"How does the Amulet of Restoration work?"
The scholar closed the book in his hands and pulled out the amulet, which looked like an eye—a little like the badge of Vigil. "It does exactly what you may think. It restores the Objectivity of the space around it."
Vern frowned. That seemed contradictory. So he countered, "Then why doesn't it harm us Observers? I didn't find myself turning Objective under its light."
Cedric shrugged, "It's simple, really. This thing has limited capabilities. Us Observers are far more singular than these mirror spirits. Leagues above, even. It is pollution, after all—a mix of unstable thoughts that don't conform with our reality."
"We have a proper system to nurture our singularity whereas these things are just amalgamation of random ideas and subjective notions."
A look of realization crossed Vern's face as he took this new information in. That was indeed a very reasonable argument.
"So, what do you think is causing the spirits to run away from you?"
They weren't running away from Vern, after all.
Cedric's expression turned for worse, and he spat, "The disgusting things can sense my power. What else?"
Exactly my thoughts. However, he had to be certain, "Are you sure it isn't the amulet that's scaring them away?"
"No," his hat turned side to side, "it's just a tool."
Good.
"So, do you think I can also use this amulet to cleanse these spirits?"
"…"
Cedric stared at him with narrowed eyes for longer than it made sense before asking, "You want to face them by…yourselves?"
Vern nodded heavily.
That was the only viable idea he could think of. Time was a luxury they couldn't afford. Returning to Vigil to devise a better strategy risked the spirits escaping, threatening more innocent lives.
Moreover, there was no assurance that anyone else would be more capable of handling this situation. If Cedric's 'power' was what made the spirits evade him, then introducing someone more powerful would likely cause them to flee even more swiftly.
They'd have to be incredibly lucky to have someone just sitting in the vigil right now who could counter these spirits.
Noticing the disapproval in Cedric's eyes, Vern explained his rationale, "If I can use the amulet of restoration by myself, I should be able to dent their numbers somewhat. They don't come near you, but they have no qualms about pouncing on me."
The spirit in 3-04 probably would have given up on the kid to get a piece of him, too.
These words seemed to send Cedric into a thoughtful trance, and after a while, he probed, "You said you had a plan. What is it?"
Vern met the man's eyes and explained his findings regarding these spirits, "I believe I can use the rules governing their behavior to my advantage."
"We know they can't move when they are actively being watched by someone. However, this limitation doesn't apply if a part of them is still attached to the mirror. In that state, they can even share representation."
"So, to counter that, my first step would be to separate them from the mirror. All I need to do is keep my distance and let it come to me. The crucial part here is that I can charge the amulet's light in advance and just have to wait for the right moment to use it."
"If I can execute all that properly, it should nullify their advantages and help us wrap this up."
It was obviously not going to be that simple, but how was he to convince the man if he didn't hold back a little?
Moments after Vern finished, Cedric's expression darkened before he chided, "And what if it's not that straightforward? What if you don't even get the opportunity to use the amulet?"
Vern knew where the man was going, and he'd already considered this point, so he interjected, "I've thought of that. That's why I need you nearby, ready to intervene at my signal or if you sense any trouble."
That stopped Cedric's next word in the tracks. Vern didn't miss this chance and added, "If they're afraid of your power, your mere presence should be enough to nip any complications in the bud."
Cedric started to reply, then paused, his gaze dropping to the ground as he furrowed his brows in contemplation.
After a while, he opened his book, took out a pen, and spoke while scribbling something, "We can try this, but only in a house of my choosing. If the probabilities aren't high enough, you are not going anywhere."
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That's possible?
Vern nodded enthusiastically, walking closer to get a look at what the scholar was writing. 'The spirit of sixteen-year-old Oliver is in house 3-58.'
He gasped. Isn't this the name of the nephew that someone begged Cedric to save?
Vern had been puzzled when Cedric left that house all by himself. Now it made sense. Maybe the distance from one end of the street to the other had been too long?
Still…
It ended with the death of a teenager.
.
.
.
An inexplicable feeling surged within Vern, and he turned his eyes back to the crowd that kept their distance from both of them.
Many among them allowed the gently falling snowflakes to settle on their bodies, their eyes shimmering with an unspoken intensity.
A group, clasping hands, hummed a melancholic hymn, their pleading melody resonating in Vern's ears while another settled on their knees, praying to some god.
Most had drained their wells of tears, yet a handful still grappled with grief. One woman even had to be sedated as blood began to weep from her eyes.
In such a moment, five or six men exited the forge—their equipment still in their hands. Maybe they had finally noticed all the commotion.
While most blended seamlessly into the existing groups, one man darted around, frantically engaging with everyone on the street.
Suddenly, he broke away from the crowd, charging towards a house. Vern's brow furrowed, instinctively moving to intercept him.
Yet, before he could even take a step, someone tackled the man to the ground, and another group of people held him down.
Vern couldn't hear exactly what was being said. But he knew.
That man had lost someone.
.
.
.
They had failed him.
In another minute, the man stood back up, and the crowd's lips moved around before someone pointed in Vern and Cedric's directions.
The man stared at them for a while before collapsing on his knees—the hurt in his eyes strong enough to plunge a dagger into Vern's chest.
He bit his tongue and looked away.
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"It is very simple to use the Amulet of Restoration. You simply have to try and observe it in your own perception. It'll suck away your thoughts and representation to restore objectivity."
"Kinda like Insight Spheres, then?" Vern asked.
"Well, I haven't personally used an Insight Sphere to store my thoughts, but yeah, I guess it should be the same feeling." He then shook his head, "Anyways. It has this knob which you can use to control the release of restorative light."
"Be aware that it has a finite capacity for sustaining the representation you infuse into it. Generally, mine can maintain it for up to ten minutes, whereas most single-shaded Observers last about a couple of minutes."
Vern nodded, taking the silver pendant in his hand. It was surprisingly heavier than it appeared. The design closely resembled the symbol of Vigil, distinguished by intricate, vein-like brown patterns sprawling across its surface and notably lacking a slot for a gem.
Vern coiled the chain around his fingers and, without further delay, attempted to perceive it through his unique shades of gray.
Just like an Insight Sphere, it absorbed his thoughts entirely, and light began to leak out of the knob.
Cedric interrupted him after a dozen seconds, "That should be enough for a single spirit. Go on. Quickly."
Vern took a deep breath and turned towards the door of house 3-58. He could feel the gazes of people behind them boring into him.
Vern hadn't explained his plan to the crowd, but his actions were indication enough. The silence was heavy with unspoken expectations, placing an odd pressure on him.
No matter how he rationalized it, with each step he took, he was shaping their future. Failure meant the spirits could flee, looming over the residents like an ever-present guillotine.
They might even have to find a new home if I don't get it right. They could—
At that moment, a hand gripped his shoulder, and he heard, "Remember, this isn't more important than your life."
Additionally, I will monitor the probability of the spirits sharing their strength every few seconds. If the numbers go above thirty for whatever reason, I am rushing in. No matter what."
"…"
That helped. Nodding, he pushed the door and entered the house. The clock was already ticking—the restoration light couldn't be sustained infinitely.
According to Cedric, the teenage kid named Oliver was already inside this house. However, Vern had no stupid hopes of trying to save him.
He'd seen what these entities could do once they had turned into mirror spirits. He needed no reminders.
When the door clicked shut behind him, he was left at the mercy of his lamp's purple light.
It latched onto his belt, a metal sheet wrapped around its inner half to ensure it didn't set Vern's clothes on fire. He'd asked one of the forgers to do this patch job for him. After all, it didn't have the glass encasing anymore.
TAP TAP
He greedily observed his surroundings, ensuring he didn't miss any chunks of glasses this time. He'd come to realize that his perception was like an odd combination of all his senses.
However, he was sure it went deeper than that. It didn't use just his eyes to help him shade the environment into grays.
It seemed to use 'Knowledge.'
Anything he could infer based on any of his senses, logic, small changes, or past insights could be used to extrapolate the grays of his surroundings.
So whatever 'knowledge' he had could be used to help him supplement the grays of his perception. There was definitely more to it, but according to his experiments, these were the primary contributors.
In the current situation, he didn't really care about the 'stability' aspect of his perception as much. It was mainly to 'see' what the entity could be doing without using his eyes.
So when he felt confident enough in the gray representation of the corridor, he delved deeper, his first stop being the hall.
Creak
The floorboards groaned, and the tiniest of the sounds had him turning around—didn't matter if he could also 'see' behind him using his grays.
As he turned into the hall, the shadows cast by the purple light lengthened, presenting amidst them a hall with a table for four and a dresser crowned with a mirror.
Exactly like other houses.
Yet, it was empty.
Oliver wasn't here.
He shoved open the bathroom door with a kick and leaped back.
Luckily, nothing jumped out at him.
Closing the bathroom door behind him, he headed towards the second last possibility in this house. The kitchen.
However, as he waded through this eerily silent house, a weird notion emerged in his mind.
No…it was his Thought Space. It was as if something wasn't right. He felt…discordant, unbalanced.
The feeling wasn't overwhelming or anything, but it was growing.
What even is this?
He'd felt it in previous confrontations, too, but he didn't have the opportunity to analyze it.
And maybe he won't have it this time, either—
Snap!
He didn't even cross the threshold of the kitchen before a sound echoed from ahead, and he clutched the pendant harder—his fingers resting on the knob.
He swallowed hard and widened his eyes, trying to force in as much light as possible. He had to make sure the entity was far enough from him before committing to this.
Cold sweat trickled down his spine despite the stagnant air as he took in the poor state of the kitchen.
Utensils were scattered on the floor, and transparent liquid pooled at random spots. A rusty smell assaulted his nose, mixed with something putrid.
However, he found something even more uncanny—a trail of that transparent liquid. Goosebumps erupted across his skin from the implications.
He followed it with his eyes, and it led him to a slanted wooden frame leaning in the small gap between the kitchen counter and the wall.
Vern frowned as he cleared the rest of the room and walked in for a better angle.
However, he only took a few steps when—