Vern sat on the chair with two notepads in front of him. His eyes switched between the both of them while his hand moved continuously, copying over text from one onto the other.
Except, the new words he wrote came out as symbols and glyphs that should make no sense to most people—including observers. Ever since becoming one himself, being unable to jot down crucial information had been gnawing at his being every step of the way.
So, now that he knew a language that was supposed to be lost to society and couldn't even be cracked down without an intuitive understanding of it, the first thing he did was rewrite his notes in this language.
However, he remembered the possibility that this runic language might have been a common language at some point in time, so he went one step beyond to further obfuscate his private notes. He combined it with his Master's cipher.
It used complicated alphabet substitution, shifting, transposition, and a few other tactics.
This is a nightmare, he protested internally. Because of how this language worked, he first had to intuitively write out the whole sentence, then apply the cipher on top of it and rewrite it.
His right hand quickly made drafts, while his left took those papers and destabilized them, their structure crumbling right before his eyes. Because of how thorough Instability Inducement was, it did a better job destroying the originals than even fire.
Minutes turned into hours, and the sun rose back up outside as he continued to encrypt all the vital information while adding some things that he otherwise didn't dare to write down.
Given that he still didn't know how safe this was, he didn't go all-in and kept many things to himself, but it was less restrictive than his prior setup.
Right at that moment, a sudden raving echoed in his head, and he instantly stopped writing, focusing hard on this voice.
He'd realized after interacting with only a couple of 'prayers' that they transmitted not just sounds but emotions, as well as the sight. Maybe more, but these were the only ones he could process.
Most of the prayers came from random people making unsolicited introductions and one-sided wishes to the new powerful figure in the market that was Axiom.
In his mind's eye, three figures donned in pitch black robes and hoods knelt in front of an altar with a chaotic mass of something dark, oozing with a putrid liquid sitting atop it.
Suddenly, all three knelt down, and the one in the center began, his voice resonating with zeal, "Oh, great one, binder of Axioms." He then produced a ceremonial dagger and, with a swift motion, drew it across his palm. Blood trickled down, dripping onto the dark mass, which absorbed it hungrily, emitting an eerie glow.
Vern jolted upright, a dark expression on his face. What the hell are they doing? Befuddled, he wondered, Should I…stop them? He didn't even know if he could. Would they hear a response if I made one?
However, his face turned grim the very next instant.
The second figure, a woman, retrieved a glass jar from her robes. She unscrewed the lid to reveal two bloodied eyes, their nerves still attached and twitching slightly. "We offer you these eyes, freshly plucked from the innocent," she said, placing them carefully on the altar. The eyes dissolved into the darkness, adding to its swirling energy.
His hands clenched into fists, nails digging into his palms.
The third follower, a gaunt man with a twisted smile, held up a small, wriggling creature. Its cries were muffled by the cloth wrapped around it. "We sacrifice this newborn bloodling, a gift of pure life to feed your power," he declared, placing the bundle on the altar. The dark mass engulfed the creature—its cries silenced instantly.
Their chant grew louder, filled with fervent hope. "Grant us your strength, O great Axiom, and we shall bring darkness to this world. Empower our hands to wreak havoc in your name. To bring a new balance to the ode of this wretched reality."
This went on for a few more seconds before the sight fizzled away.
A cold mask settled over Vern's features. The table before him trembled, the air around him growing thick and oppressive. The room itself seemed to pulse in rhythm with his mounting tension.
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Suddenly, the shaking stopped. Silence enveloped the room and his eyes snapped open, sharp and clear, cutting through the lingering unease.
"Someone's trying to sully Axiom's name," he concluded coldly. "Someone from the confluence."
There was no other explanation. How would these random people even know about Axiom otherwise? It hadn't even been a dozen hours since he came back from the confluence.
For a while, he sat there in silence, the scene replaying in his mind endlessly. Blood, newborn of some unknown species, eyes of an innocent.
His fingers drummed an erratic rhythm on the table, the muscles in his jaw tightening with each passing second. His eyes narrowed, darkening with an intensity that seemed to burn.
Without warning, he slammed his fist down, the force rattling the table. "These motherfuckers!" he snarled through gritted teeth.
He wished he could somehow tear through space and cut them down with his duality right then and there.
Should I reprimand them? It should be possible to respond to the 'prayers,' right? Given he was the 'deity' they were praying to, his rebuke should terrify them.
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Clenching and unclenching his fist, he concluded, "It won't do."
Clearly, someone was trying to paint Axiom as some kind of evil god who demanded innocent sacrifices from his worshippers. If Vern responded to these carelessly, what would that do?
These people were clearly the criminal sort—going so far as to kill innocents, sacrificing lives over some vague rumor of a new 'evil' god.
What kind of message would his reprimanding them send to the one orchestrating this?
That the so-called cosmic balancer couldn't even handle such a simple matter? That he was so benevolent he only reprimanded them but didn't stop them with his might?
Yes, maybe that could work with his theme of 'balancing' mercy and punishment, but unfortunately, he had no means to punish anyone even if they ignored his warnings and continued their treachery.
Then, his failure to punish and 'restore the balance' would instead appear as Axiom not having the strength to back up his words or silently approving of such matters. Both of which were terrible outcomes.
What a trap! Gladly, he hadn't been impulsive. This is fucking crazy! It hasn't even been a day, and someone's trying to shift the perception of the masses against me. He wondered if there was some kind of backlash for that sort of thing.
What should I do about this?
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After getting lost in this thought loop for a while, he let out a deep breath and concluded, let's not be hasty. The damage is already done. I need a better solution.
Him stopping each of these prayers one by one wouldn't even work. The person targeting Axiom's image could just pick a different location and begin anew until this reputation preceded him, and his image was tarnished for good.
Repeatedly tapping his pen on the table, he wondered, Is this Rupert's counterattack? He couldn't be sure, but the tactic reeked of something that man would do.
"Fuck! I know nothing about how this supernatural mysticism business works."
Whoever it was that used this tactic knew exactly where to hit him. And it hit hard. If left unchecked, it would destabilize the influence this new variable—Axiom—could have on the world.
He tapped the pen one final time on the table and decided, The confidentiality ritual for the Vigil Irene talked about should be happening soon. I need to make sure I don't miss it.
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
His mission in the Ironhart district gave him enough merit to participate in it, allowing him access to more texts in Vena's archive. I hope the new array of texts will have comprehensive knowledge regarding this.
He had to quickly find some ways to restore the balance. One way would obviously be to do good deeds like a benevolent god. Alas, he was a fake one.
"A fake one that's not going to let all his work go to waste just like this." He didn't know exactly how useful his identity as Axiom was going to be. But, he did know that it could very well be the difference between him actually achieving that status one day versus getting lost in the sand of times like most others.
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As always, the root cause of all this cajoling and cautious maneuvering was the same. Weakness.
He looked out the window with an empty gaze and muttered, "I need to figure out my path forward." He'd delayed thinking about it for long enough.
Rippp he tore a piece of paper from his old notepad, planning on disintegrating it once done, and wrote down, 'Lady Sylphina suggested going for one fundamental per shade.'
This means I need to shade my perception with a vision that clearly belongs to a different fundamental.
But which one?
Should there be some criteria? Was one choice better than the other? He opened the drawer, and objects within it tumbled forward. Pulling out the Insight sphere from the myriad objects, which mirrored his thought space, he inspected it.
The eight fundamentals are Dissolution, Creation, Preservation, Transformation, Cognition, Structure, Force, and finally Relationships.
His root goal was to find a fundamental that he could shade his perception with without risking his sanity.
However, he knew things were far more nuanced than that.
I shouldn't choose something like Dissolution for now. As the name suggested, it was a fundamental most heavily tapped by Chaos Fundamentalists. The people who reveled in destroying everything. But how would that react to his thought space and current visions?
After some thought, he had an interesting idea, Hmm, what if I go for dissolution after my perception already has a vision related to creation fundamental. Their opposing nature should balance out each other, right?
Wait, but then…
This led him to a frightening theory, Is it possible that the combinations of fundamentals, if not handled in the correct order, could cause contradictions inside my thought space? The simple thought of the whispers that such an arrangement would invite sent shivers down his spine.
That would be…terrifying. Whispering repository in the vigil was a living proof of what happened to people who shaded their perception with visions that didn't mesh well with their perspective.
He took a deep breath and reasoned, Yeah, something like dissolution would contradict my insights on structure. After all, structure was all about order, whereas dissolution was literal chaos and destruction.
Without insights on creation to rein the chaos that would come from the dissolution, structure might crumble before the sheer destructiveness of the potent fundamental.
I need to be careful, he decided with a resolute nod. He hadn't had another serious case of whispers overwhelming him ever since Eleonora's archive, and he wanted to keep things that way.
So, he wrote, 'Dissolution is a non-optimal choice because of lacking prerequisites and incompatibility with existing insights.'
"Then, what about creation?" Vern leaned back in his chair, mulling over the implications of choosing creation as his second shade. It was a tempting option, but he needed to be cautious. Creation, while seemed powerful, had its own complexities that might not align well with his current position and resources.
As a fundamental, it required a deep understanding of both the intrinsic and extrinsic properties of matter and energy. It demanded not just insight but also resources and conditions conducive to generating something new.
Hmm, the resources at my hand are quite limited, and so is my time.
Creation fundamentalists, which included alchemists, were the secluded kind. Even amongst their already socially inept brethren, they were the worst offenders. And for good reason. Their discoveries came from thousands of repeated experiments demanding severe time commitment, a stable environment, controlled variables, and nigh infinite funding and resources.
Creation is indeed potent, he thought, tapping his finger rhythmically on the edge of the Insight sphere. But it's also resource-intensive.
He recalled the intricacies of the Creation fundamental: it wasn't just about forming new things but understanding the essence of existence itself. The process was heavily dependent on an intimate knowledge of various fields—alchemy, mechanics, even esoteric disciplines that Vern had only started to scratch the surface of.
Moreover, he couldn't afford to spend too much time deepening his insights on creation by experimenting in this rapidly changing world. Every day was precious and had to be treated as such.
"Also, there are the resources." He was having trouble sourcing materials to fix his Lumenscope, much less the ingredients he would need to delve deep into creation. And it's not like I will be creating more mechanical constructs after shading my perception with such a thing.
He would need materials related to mysticism, not cranksteel or blueprints of some engine. This creation would far surpass anything mechanical and edge into the supernatural. He didn't understand even the basics of it. Forget creating something from scratch.
"Yeah, it would just be a nightmare, given my current channels and resources," he said, shaking his head. The final nail in the coffin was the fact that structure and creation weren't really the most compatible pair.
"Creation might indeed balance out Dissolution in theory, but practically," Vern said aloud, "it might instead amplify the complexities I have to deal with."
He jotted down his thoughts: 'Creation is not advisable for now due to resource constraints, time limitations, and environmental instability.'
Soon, he had an idea. He held the insight sphere and rotated it freely, murmuring to himself, "Each octant is neighbored by three other octants on its edges, and generally, there's a higher compatibility between the concepts within."
He turned it around to focus on the upper-north-western octant—the one belonging to structure. Its neighbors were upper-north-eastern, lower-north-western, and upper south western octants.
He added to the paper, 'So, neighbors to structure are cognition, preservation, and relationship fundamentals.'
He felt inherently repulsed by preservation because of that bastard who'd kidnapped Ari—Quentin Flowhart. Not only that, he just didn't think preservation was his best option for the second shade. Stability Inducement, to an extent, mirrored what preservation could do.
"Well, maybe not everything." Preservation might be able to stabilize more aspects of reality than just structures, but he wasn't very keen on going too far down the same path and was instead hoping to become a jack of all trades—at least early on.
Anyways, I can look into it again if nothing else works out. For now, he still had four other options to look into, with two being more synergistic with structure.
After spending some time pondering each of them, he didn't find anything too egregious with any of them. So, he noted, 'The priority list for fundamentals I'd like for my second shade: Cognition, Relationships, Force, Transformation.'
He would've preferred a vision focused on force due to his prior experience with it, but he didn't want to narrow down his options too much just yet.
Why? Because, until now, he'd ignored the biggest obstacles to shading his perception. And he jotted it down, 'The resonance catalyst and the observation record.'
He'd gotten terribly lucky to have the greatest resonance catalyst at hand when he first shaded his perception—the Third Rune's realm, or the land of dark sun as he casually dubbed it. This was something he'd realized after learning about resonance catalysts.
He recalled the aftermath of his advancement after imprinting Stability Inducement. It was like he was sitting in the eye of a tornado, and everything around him had been ravaged to a terrifying degree.
So much so it attracted the attention of what very well might have been the Cryptic Constructor. Clearly, that whole space was heavily infused with insights related to structure, courtesy of it belonging to the Cryptic one.
There, he'd unintentionally absorbed the surroundings, and they supplemented him with the insights required to consolidate his new vision. By basing his new work on Instability Inducement—something belonging to the fundamental of structure, he'd created another vision under the same fundamental.
That was to say—had he tried to create a vision of some other fundamental, he might not have succeeded at all.
"Lucky was what that was." And he knew—such opportunities couldn't be sought for, only chanced upon.
However, resonance catalyst was only the second requirement. Before that, he had to answer an even more pivotal question—Which observation record should I follow?
Should he even follow a record not his own? Or maybe just take inspiration from them? "After all, I know how to create visions from scratch."
But he very quickly gave up on that line of thought. Stability inducement was special. He'd used another vision as the inspiration, had a space where he could test his hypotheses freely without any repercussions, and, to top it all, had a catalyst that couldn't be replicated.
Trying to make a new vision straight from scratch without all these factors would be nothing short of suicidal. On top of that, he was a firm believer in standing on the shoulders of giants and was against reinventing the wheel.
Hmm, it might be in my best interest to further study existing observation records and work on adapting them to my perspective of balance instead.
After all, these records were legacies of generations, and he would have to be beyond arrogant to think he could conjure better visions for all eight fundamentals than them while not even knowing the limits of what's achievable through observation.
He suddenly slapped the table, his mood turning sour, "Only if I could safely return inside the third rune."
That would solve most of his problems. Right now, there was more than a fifty-fifty chance he would be greeted by that gigantic eye the moment he entered the third rune. And that would be the end.
No way he could escape that entity’s gaze twice.
"Agh!!" It felt like sitting on a coal mine in the dead of winter, unable to use it because of the devil lurking inside.
He played with the pen in his hand as he pondered this problem.
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"Wait!" a sudden burst of inspiration struck him.
He peered into himself. Beyond his spherical thought space, which used to stand in an empty void, stars now twinkled. These were the nodes representing all the prayers he'd received until now.
He quickly focused on them individually and soon found what he sought—Hensen’s prayer.
"I should reach out to him."