Chapter 120 - A Cautious Proposal

Knock Knock

"Huhh?" Vern rapidly blinked and noticed it was already seven in the evening. Shaking his head, he pushed himself up on the bed, only to feel a jolt of pain in his shoulder.

Ignoring it, he shouted, "Please come in. The door's open."

Click

Light seeped in from the door as the figure of a woman entered the room. He rubbed his bleary eyes and realized who it was. He greeted her first, not burdening her to start the conversation, "Good evening, Mistress. My apologies for skipping the class today. I wanted to come in, but—"

She waved her hands, and Vern took the cue to stop. Pulling the chair from the desk, she sat, folding one leg over the other. Finally, pulling down her face shield, she asked, "How're you feeling?"

A part of him wanted to continue spouting boastful nothings. However, he disregarded any such notions and answered honestly, "Tired." Sighing, he continued, "Far more tired than I initially thought I'd be. It really drained me far too much."

Mistress nodded. "Mhm, rest. Your injuries seem to be healing quite well already." However, she shook her head, "Besides that, did you commit any grave mistakes today? Something that could've gotten you killed?"

Hmm… Vern slipped into a thoughtful silence, seriously reflecting on the whole process. He didn't expect her to ask that. After rubbing his chin for a while, he responded with measured words, "Many, actually."

Vern recounted all his mistakes in a concise manner—including every time he was unable to adapt to the ever-changing nature of his enemies or both the times in the mirror world when he could have died if not for Cedric.

Mistress ran her fingers on the flat of her scythe's blade as she sat there, listening to Vern ramble in silence.

Obviously, he didn't talk about any of his contingencies. Not that it would be a good idea to reflect on his mistakes with those in mind anyway.

Once he was done, she sat up straighter and looked him in the eyes, "What you described aren't mistakes, but indicators and consequences."

She then raised one of her index fingers, "Your first oversight was the lack of a lethal and surefire countermeasure against multiple enemies. I can't help you with your Visions for this, but I can definitely teach you better crowd control."

Vern nodded seriously.

"Second," she said, raising another finger, "You rely too much on your perception to inform you of your surroundings. Which is to say your situational awareness is quite poor. You've already seen how you're essentially blind once you're low on your representation."

Vern winced but still agreed. These were all very true. This wound on his shoulder was essentially a product of just that—not anticipating the enemy behind him.

Raising another finger, she said, "Third and final. You don't have enough combat experience. What you managed is already a miracle, and you should be proud of yourself. Yet, don't forget that your enemies will always be ever-changing. The only surefire method to increase your odds of winning is to have more experience under your belt."

The words resonated deeply with Vern, and he nodded, already a little fired up. Should I ask for more lessons right away?

Mistress Amelia stood up, "We can fix that over the next week." But then, suddenly, the aura around her turned impenetrable, and she asked in a calm tone, "Now, have you made a decision?"

Ah, right. She’s talking about the old blood’s infusion. He knew this was coming, yet he was a little hesitant.

Vern collected his thoughts and took a deep breath. With rehearsed precision, he began, "After considerable thought, Mistress, I've come to a decision, albeit a complex one. So please pardon my unlearned self if I'm overstepping my boundaries, but I would like to make a request." he trailed off, seeking any hint of reaction.

She stared at him with one of her eyebrows raised for a couple of seconds before giving an almost imperceptible nod.

Hahh, reasonable as always!

Wetting his lips, he spoke, "If I may, I'd like to humbly suggest a cautious progression with the blood transfusion process. Given my deep commitment as an Observer and the significant strides I've made on my viewpoint—a path not chosen lightly and one fraught with too many trials—it's paramount for me to integrate this new experience with utmost care."

His heart jumped with every word, and he had to work hard not to cower away due to her lack of reaction. But I can't stop either. This is important.

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So he added, "This way, I hope to safely navigate any potential conflicts with the insights I've developed. Would it be possible to tailor our approach, allowing me the flexibility to pause or discontinue the infusions if it seems to diverge me from my core values and the hard-earned progress in my journey?"

With all that out of his system, he exhaled deeply and waited.

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.

.

Seconds turned into minutes, and his nervousness began to shoot through the roof. Did I ask something taboo? Was I too blunt? Damn. Should I try again?

However, before he could gather the courage to speak up again, she sighed, latching her scythe back to the holster, "Sorry, Vern, but it's not something I can decide for you. The court handles all decisions on subjugation art as a collective. Especially something that may require them to make an exception for the recruitment rules."

Vern fidgeted under the sheets, "Am I asking for too much?"

"Hmm, there's precedence of something similar being approved, but the personage in question was quite a character. Anyway, I'll try to summon the court as soon as possible. The last one was just yesterday, so it'll be a while before I have an answer for you."

"…"

Vern didn't know what to say. If possible, he'd have liked a solid answer right away to plan accordingly. But, well, he was the one making demands here. It was already a miracle that she didn't outright disown him for favoring her competitors.

So he rested his hand on his chest and bowed his head, "My thanks, mistress. I hope I am not wasting your time by having you train a candidate that may or may not be able to help the Kingsly court."

Adjusting her hat, she turned and added, "Don't worry about it. I'm first a citizen of this empire then a court member. It's your first day, and you've already done more good than most others with power. Keep it up, and I'll find someone else to train for the court on the side if need be."

Click

"I will…" Vern added to empty air as he fell back on the bed.

She is soo nice! He had difficulty reconciling her behavior just now to that reaper he'd seen on the bridge.

He held his palm high in the air and reflected on his recent experiences. A serene feeling washed over him, and for once, he felt…at ease with himself.

He'd finally made progress in so many aspects of his life. His understanding of Observation had deepened significantly, and it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say he had figured out his own path forward. He now even had certain leads on Ari's and Hensen's whereabouts. To top this all off, he had a great teacher, an organization backing him, and driven people all around him.

Most important of all—he felt alive again. Five days by himself in the hotel hadn't done him much good. Not when he'd so much rage and questions bubble within him. This…however, was what he wanted with life. For now, at least.

To continue working towards that ethereal balance.

Haahhh! he heaved, getting up and heading for the bathroom. He needed a shower. The water back in the mirror realm wasn't even real, after all.

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.

.

As hot water pelted his body, the soreness of his muscles slowly fizzled away, but he was more focused on the lines all around him. A plethora of straight paths depicted the water pipe and how its structure ran beneath the floor tiles, too.

However, it cut off a little distance away, and his knowledge of the piping routes in the vigil was nowhere near enough to extrapolate it with high confidence. Yet, the shades and distribution of just these lines were very interesting.

The stream inside the pipes was a line of its own, but the moment it split into droplets at the showerhead, they disappeared from his perception. Almost as if there's a threshold of how much tension a structure should have before it can be perceived at all.

When he turned off the faucet, the stream inside the pipe turned brighter—signifying more tension stored within it. Hahhh…

Wrapping a towel around himself, he exited the steamy bath and looked at the lines on his arms. It was the same. Clutching his fists or straining for a punch, they all turned the veins inside his body brighter.

Hmm, what if—, his eyes narrowed as an interesting idea blossomed in his head.

He took on a fighting pose, a mix of the footwork he'd learned yesterday and pictures he'd seen in high-society magazines. With his fists and arms held in front of him, he flexed his muscles, and the lines in his perception at those points brightened.

He drew back his left arm for a punch, straining as much as possible while ensuring it didn't hurt. Then he took these bright lines and imagined…Instability Inducement.

Uff, he flinched, his hand jerking closer to his body by itself as a powerful force surged within his hand. He remembered Cedric's words. It was generally acceptable to use Visions that temporarily affected the body.

As he'd seen throughout the day while testing it on other objects—including the carriage's suspension, stabilizing or destabilizing the tension of these stress lines was a temporary affair. He had to actively spend representation if he wished to keep them tenser.

So, with the left one held taut using the Vision, Vern ripped a paper with his right hand and flicked it upwards in the air. His eyes glowing with a white ring, he singled in on the paper like a hawk, and the moment it dropped down to shoulder length—

Whishh

His hand shot from his side like a blur. He paired it with the Stability Inducement when it was mere inches away from the paper, instantly releasing all the tension.

Paaa

Unable to dodge Vern's attack because of its inertia, the paper fronted his attack directly, and the fist tore a huge hole as the hollowed sheet ran up his arm like shackles.

"Owww!" he yelped, supporting his left arm with the other. That hurt, damnit. Almost as if he'd sprained his otherwise healthy left shoulder. But then he caressed the paper wrapping around his hand, almost all its edges folded in the direction of his attack.

That was clearly a lot of force.

"Hahaha…"

Vern froze on the spot, unable to comprehend this sudden laughter. It wasn't him. He hadn't laughed. Still, it didn't seem to come from outside the door, either. He walked up to the room's small window and looked beyond the glass, only to find nothing.

Frowning, he murmured, "No way I hallucinated that, right?" He narrowed his gaze and looked around before rubbing his left shoulder and switching his perception to the simple balance of stability and instability.

He unleashed it all around him, and grays exploded out with him as the center, mapping the shape of the walls, tables, carpet, and whatnot when suddenly, it failed to map the large mirror in the room.

His expression instantly turned grave as his hand reached for the duality sitting atop the closest table. Barely holding it upright with his somewhat injured hands, he slowly approached the exit.

As much as he denied it, he needed all that rest. He was in no shape to fight right now. Why the hell are these mirrors not leaving me alone?

However, the moment he reached in line of sight of the mirror—