Chapter 110 - First step
"VERN! GET OUT OF THERE!"
A sinking feeling crept up within him as something appeared in his perception at the same time as this shout.
Fuck!
He bolted out of the basement—dipping to avoid the door frame hitting his head. Cedric came rushing down, and Vern tossed the amulet to the man without hesitation.
Catching it, he joined Vern on the platform at the bottom of the stairs and peered inside the basement.
Right in front of their eyes, something bizarre transpired.
Dark spots of corruption appeared in his loose depiction of grays inside the room.
Not one or two, but at least half a dozen.
Vern conveyed this information immediately, "Six of them might come here soon. Get ready."
Cedric nodded, instilling the mostly spent amulet with his own strength.
Vern's heart beat rapidly. He didn't know what the hell was going on. This induced another sense of imbalance in his Thought Space, but it wasn't anything significant.
He held onto the revolver, one foot on the higher step—ready to get the fuck out of here if things went south.
However, in the next moment, the half-evaporated corpse of the entity lit up.
Vern frowned, and Cedric focused on charging the amulet, but soon, the pale light surrounding the corpse burst into motes of light.
The patches of darkness within his perception extended into uncanny shapes.
It didn't even make sense. There were no mirrors where these patches of darkness appeared.
.
.
.
No!
He remembered. There was blood pooling in some of these spots, while others had moisture from leaking pipes.
They were using these as small portals of reflection to materialize here! And because these openings were so small, they couldn't appear fully—just odd fingers and limbs.
But why?
The motes of light didn't wait for Cedric to be done and floated towards these patches of darkness around the room.
Everything was happening so fast Vern didn't have the time to investigate it deeply, so he blurted the only thing that made sense, "They're trying to reclaim the lost representation!"
Cedric looked up in shock—unmoving. So when Vern snatched the amulet from his hands, the man didn't resist.
With a blinding brown light spilling out of the amulet, Vern brandished it all throughout the room.
.
.
.
But it was too late.
The motes of lights seemed to merge into the pale things that jutted out of the ceiling, walls and blood, and before the amulet could have much effect, they retreated.
They were still 'connected' to their source of power, after all—the reflective surfaces.
"DAMN!" Vern shouted, turning around and smacking his fist on the wall.
These things were adapting too fast! He'd thought they had hit the limits of their intelligence, and hence the reason they didn't learn from the last encounter.
But they did!
Even though Cedric's probability amplification played a big part in letting that happen, he'd still underestimated them.
These things were too smart. Too fucking smart.
Since they'd run out of victims, they carefully chose their targets. They avoided Cedric because he was too powerful, but Vern seemed to hit that sweet spot of being just weak enough that they thought it was worth the risk.
However, they hadn't repeated their mistakes even once. He shouldn't have underestimated them! How could they let him get away with the same tactic another time? He was foolish for thinking like that.
Noticing that he first lured them into a position where they couldn't reclaim or share the representation, they found a way to still reclaim a big portion of it.
Maybe it was just them coming to prey on their own kind after it had lost. He didn't know. Maybe he was being too paranoid, thinking it all an elaborate plan, but damn, did it look like they were always one step ahead.
Cedric walked up to him with a dark look on his face, "Now they won't even let you do the job, huh?"
The scholar then patted his back and sighed, "It's time to let it go, kid. We should ask all these people to find a different place to stay for a while. We can't deal with a situation like this. We need a specialist."
Vern tried to protest, "But—"
Cedric stopped him right there, "No. This is getting riskier and riskier every time we try something. Next time you go in there, they might just have some kind of ambush ready."
"Yes, but you're giving up too soon!" Vern rebuked sharply. "We haven't tried everything within our means. Heck, all we've done is chase them around and play in their hands."
"So what!?" he countered, an edge to his voice. "What does it matter when there isn't anything we can do without being suicidal?"
"If you're so afraid of death, then why the hell are you even doing this job!?" Vern vented, finally speaking his mind.
Cedric's eyes narrowed, and he spoke with a lethal inflection, "Everyone has their reasons, kid. But mine isn't to throw myself or those around me into certain death."
"Why the hell are you calling this certain death? It's risky, but nowhere near to the point you're exaggerating it."
"Well, you don't know how the numbers change. I've seen the probability of danger go from negligible to certain in a mere second."
Then he pulled down his hat and added, "And all I've come to understand in my long time with these numbers is that if the probabilities have a trend of going upward, they will converge to certainty."
Vern shook his head, a baffled look in his eyes, "That's not even remotely related to our conversation. What are you even talking about?"
Cedric's lips curled up with mirth, and he held his book onto the wall and wrote in its margin, 'It is dangerous to confront mirror spirits 0.'
Vern furrowed his brows and stared at the words that soon morphed. The zero suddenly became 31.34.
Then, every other second, the number kept changing…
31.36
31.37
31.49
31.50
31.51
Looking at them, Vern slammed his hand onto the wall yet again, "Yes, this is why we need to take care of them right now! The longer we delay, the worse it gets. Not just for us, but for everyone."
Cedric rubbed his temples, "Did you hear nothing that I said?" He snapped his book shut and prodded Vern with it before demanding, "Okay, tell me. Tell me what we can do to solve this."
Vern, who had lost control of his emotions for a second, dialed back at these words and slowed down.
Completely serious, he pulled out his own notepad and responded, "Give me a few minutes."
He needed to think.
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"Make sure to get it through your skull, kid. I am completely against this madness!" Yelled Cedric as they walked out of the mirror Emporium which they'd just surveyed, "You're courting death."
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Vern, however, stared back with an intense gaze—completely unmoved. He wasn't going to let the man cow him anymore, "But your numbers just agreed with me, didn't they?"
"YES, but they will only get worse!"
Vern didn't bother replying.
Cedric was a complex man. He wasn't inherently coward, but he had come to revere his viewpoint and its indications to the degree that rivaled reverence and fear.
Instead of digging deep into why the numbers of his probabilities represented what they did, he treated them as a black box or revelation from some higher entity.
Something that could guide his decisions, and this was where it became a slippery slope. Where did these revelations come from? Was it from a broader understanding of reality or his paranoid viewpoint that saw everything as more dangerous than it was?
That wasn't something he could ask the man, for it was an Observer's secret, but Vern believed he wasn't too far off the mark in his understanding.
It would be akin to Vern closing his eyes, ears, and insight, then relying solely on his world of grays to make important decisions. It would be disastrous. He would miss out on so many nuances.
Still, he saw the allure. If the grays of his perception represented the balance across time and depicted the future, he might be tempted to rely on it, too.
"A stubborn fool!" Cedric hissed. "Sure, you might save a few today, but at what cost? You're gambling with the future, risking countless lives that you would save if not for this foolishness of yours. Believe me, it's a risk too steep."
Vern's mind wavered at this one. That was actually a solid argument.
But, no. This isn't just about saving everyone.
Indeed, it wasn't. Ever since that last surge of insight into the order of instability and stability, he felt something within himself. It was as if he was standing on the precipice.
Of what? He wasn't sure. It definitely wasn't the leap that would propel him to the point of being able to shade his perception again, but it was bound to bring forth a significant change.
His Thought Space screamed that at him. Even if it didn't, he was sure this was a unique opportunity of growth he shouldn't miss.
If he managed to execute the plan he'd devised properly, he would be able to re-enact the core tenet of his Vision, but on a much grander scale, deepening the shade on his perception as a result.
Was it a stupid risk? Yes.
Would he take it? Also, yes.
He didn't let the brutal reality affect his daily thoughts because otherwise, the pressure alone would crush him, but he had to get stronger.
Strong enough to handle this oppressive and uncaring world.
Because if not, he was well on his way to being in the same position as all these civilians—terrified, uncertain, and helpless.
And that last one was one thing he'd come to loathe from his very being. It reminded him of that day. Of that minute. Of that instant. When he stood there…helpless as that bastard messed with Ari.
It reminded him of the compromise he'd had to make with Hensen. It reminded him of the time he ran away from Ascendant Council. It reminded him of every damned time he had to escape from a confrontation.
Not anymore. Not when he had a reasonable path to victory. Not when running away meant death for at least a dozen other unsuspecting civilians.
Still, that alone wasn't his reason for being reckless. This society, this world, it was only going downhill. He had come to care for many things, but all of it was turning for the worse every day.
The odds were stacked against him as an individual so hard in this indifferent universe that he had to seize every little opportunity to tip the balance in his favor.
So, as long as he saw an opening to advance as an Observer with favorable odds, he would jump at it. Just like this one.
Cedric may like to look at things with a pessimistic view, but Vern preferred to be…objective.
Were the mirror spirits terrifying as a whole? Yes.
But Vern had found many rules that governed their powers and had a solid plan on how to deal with them.
So when he didn't respond for so long, Cedric gritted his teeth and hissed, "Damn you, kid. Damn you. If you die, I will find someone to raise your soul back and explain to Prince that I tried my darned best to stop you!"
"That you wouldn't listen to me. That you were so keen on playing the hero, you died a stupid death."
"…"
Vern still didn't say anything and just stared at the man's wavering eyes.
.
.
.
"…"
.
.
.
"ARGH! Curse you, kid!" He slammed the emporium's door closed, "The probabilities will only turn for the worse if we waste any more time. If we're doing this, we better do it right!"
Vern broke into a wide smile as he sighed internally. He was putting up a strong front, but his plan had no chance of working if Cedric decided to back out.
"AGHH! I'll try to guide their probabilities to converge over here, but you'll have to create a factor that will drive the change and reduce probabilities of their existence everywhere else."
Exiting the unnecessarily large emporium that also had a conjoined forge, Vern nodded with a confident look, "I got this."
He calmly walked all the way to the start of the residential block—towards 3-01. His eyes fell on the throng of people that followed them, barely holding themselves from shouting their thousand questions at Vern and Cedric.
The scholar's stern rejection to speak all this time probably made them so hesitant.
Inhaling the sharp, freezing air, he shouted at the top of his lungs, "I need all of you to get away from the houses!"
This instantly caused the crowd to break out in discussions, but most still followed his words like law, and those who didn't were forced by their peers.
Cedric then stopped a little behind him and nodded, scribbling something on his book.
It's happening.
Once he was standing at the border of where this residential block started, he holstered his gun, unbuttoned his shirt around the neck, and cleared his mind.
This was the first phase of his plan.
The whole world stilled, and—
He unleashed his perception.
A world of grays unfolded in front of him, and he intentionally ignored everything on the streets, focusing solely on the houses and their structure.
Edge after edge, room after room, mirror after mirror, myriad shades of gray colored his perception, becoming more precise by the second.
First 3-01, then 3-03 next to it, then 3-05. The same was true for the houses on the left, ranging in an even pattern of 3-02, 3-04, and so on.
The veins around his eyes bulged, yet he strained them even harder. He had to capture as much detail as possible. After all, his perception was a construct of knowledge and understanding.
All the time he'd spent scrambling in and out of these houses gave him insights into how they were structured and where all the mirrors large enough to house the spirits may reside.
It helped immensely that all the houses in this society were built to be precisely the same, and most residents didn't bother changing up the interior too much.
With all those factors working together, his perception now showed a world of grays that barely resembled the houses but with their roofs and walls stripped off.
They painted a diluted picture of the interior with some objects constantly in flux as his Thought space attempted to assign shades, but they probably didn't make sense.
However, it didn't matter. He didn't have to be perfect. He just had to provide a driving factor for Cedric to drive the probabilities in one direction.
A surge of excitement as well as apprehension coursed through him as his lips moved, and he muttered to himself…"Instability Inducement."
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Rosie watched on with bated breath as the kind yet powerful mister walked to the front of the street.
She didn't understand their intentions behind asking everyone to get away from the houses, but she wasn't one to presume. Surely, there must be a reason.
Mollie, Lizzie, and even Jesec were skeptical of these great men's capabilities, but she believed. No, she knew!
So when the mister who saved her from that…that thing entirely stilled, clearly preparing for something big, her mind churned in anticipation.
Everyone talked loudly, thinking they could guess the thoughts and gifts of such powerful beings. They didn't see it, but she did.
These had to be the apostles of the god. The eternal keeper had finally sent someone to end their misery.
They weren't ordinary mortals.
So she shook her head and drowned out the noise, focusing solely on every movement of the mister.
What is going to happen?
Suddenly, a chill coursed through her body, and the entire crowd turned silent. Many forgot to breathe—including herself as the falling snow seemed to slow down.
The tall mister that saved her…no, the chosen one opened their eyes, and it was as if the eternal keeper himself had descended into them. Their eyes shone like beacons as they extended their arms to either side and took a step—
CRACK!
CRUNCH!
THRUM!
CRASHH!
Everyone around her jumped and screamed, scurrying away from the houses as their windows exploded into small fragments.
"Oh, the Eternal one…" she gasped, her eyes glued to the face that appeared more ethereal than the deacons of the Keeper himself.
It is real! How could a mortal man do something like this? she gushed, filled with a reverence she had thought lost forever.
All the glass in their surroundings shattered with their mere gaze as they walked towards the crowd like a god among men.
CRUNCH!
Their every step brought forth another wave of destruction as they sauntered past one house after another. Their heavenly eyes sparkled akin to a lighthouse in a stormy ocean, offering solace in the darkness.
"What…what is he doing?!" blurted Latham, and many others who were just as lost perked their ears.
Then, before she could clue them into the plan of the divine mister, Charlie, who also seemed to understand the chosen ones' will, interjected, "Milord is crushing the devils of the mirror!"
His gaunt face lit up with zeal, and he continued, "If there's no mirror left, obviously, the devils would have nowhere to go!"
Everyone listened in, and many even tore their gazes away from those angelic eyes as they realized the plans of the chosen one.
Crunch!
Crash!
Soon, the hubbub died down as the world-shattering steps of the mister brought them closer to the throng, and even the chunks flying around them further grounded into powder.
The older companion of the mister then turned to everyone with his terrifying look and pointed behind the chosen one.
Ahh… Rosie understood in an instant and ran behind the harbinger of destruction. Soon, others followed her steps and parted down the middle, making way for the chosen one.
The crowd dispersed and re-merged behind the envoy of Eternal One as the divine one continued on their path, destroying every mirror in their wake.
She watched on in fascination and adoration, and so did many others, as the envoy’s steps brought forth destruction and hope.
She had all but made up her mind to leave this place for good. The last vestiges of her late husband and child were etched in every corner of that house, but what else was she supposed to do?
If it wasn't…if it wasn't for the mister…she might actually be on the other end of his fury. A demon—a spirit that devours men.
She shuddered at the mere thought, and goosebumps raised all over her body. However, she soon shook her head and reveled in the miracle taking place in front of her eyes.
They crossed the house 3-30…3-40, then 3-50, and when they approached the end of the street, they gently let their hands back down.
As if on cue, a shockwave traveled through the whole block, and another surge of shattering ensued, the grounded powder of the glass mixing with snow.
There was so much of it that it blocked her sight of the chosen one as it blew in their direction.
Yet, there he stood, a dark silhouette with shining eyes against the fog of powdered glass as their coat billowed in the wind.