Chapter 27 - Cryptic Constructor

There were some new words written in small font, barely legible.

He read on, and a chill ran down his spine. Apparently, some cultist had died in the room next door. But that wasn't the real problem. It was those two men. From the chain of events, it seemed that the incident took place around Nine o'clock.

So more than two hours had passed already. But what happened at the end? His notes ended with, 'I am still waiting for them to leave.' So that meant the men had done something to him before departing.

But they hadn't entered the room, nor did they take away his gun or the…parchment. A parchment that was still in his pocket. Didn't this mean that either they didn't realize or didn't care about those things? Because if they did, why would they just leave him be after forcing him into such a vulnerable state?

He still wasn't fully sure of what had transpired. But it was enough for him to know that he had a clue about Cryptic Constructor in his pocket, and those men had given him a break. Even if they hadn't, the scale was tipping far too much towards cautiousness, and it wouldn't do him any good to pretend anymore.

He had already lost his memory to some randoms. What was next? He needed to use every tool available to him and prepare for the worse. For being helpless could very well mean death.

So he cleared up some space on the table and withdrew the crumpled paper from his pocket. The yellow thing was littered with drops of red that smelled of metal—or actually blood. Not minding any of that, he unfolded the parchment and laid it flat on the desk. It was almost as big as a page from those huge tomes.

As written in his notes, two inverted triangles were drawn on the top with red ink. On a closer look, however, what seemed like artistic detailing on the edges of the triangle were actually blotches of blood that had long since dried.

Vern quickly moved on, not minding it too much. Cultists wouldn't be cultists if they didn't do creepy scrap-shit like that. He already noticed a few choice words that made his heart leap with excitement. So he read on.

'Etchings of Existence: First Edifice

Under the shadowed mantle of the Cryptic Constructor—the Unseen Architect, truths of the cosmos unfold in hushed whispers, meant only for those worthy of hearing them. He is the silent weaver of order, the divine draftsman etching unbroken lines into the fabric of existence.

His truths are not for the uninitiated, but for those who decipher the world through the Sacred Prism. Each sees a different facet, a unique fragment of the grand design etched in the cosmos by the Immutable Shaper.

His blessing is the Unveiling, a divine act that transcends mere sight, to perceive the very bones of reality. It begets the ability to manipulate the world, to bend it to the will of the chosen ones, altering the course of what is and what shall be.

By the grace of the Constructor, his disciples are bestowed with the Dark Visions. These are not mere spells, but the manifestation of their thoughts, potent enough to rewrite the laws of reality itself. These Visions spring forth from the Aetheric Void, an expanse that grows with each insight, each revelation about the grand scheme.'

That was…a little bit of new information mixed with a rehash of things he already knew. Who would’ve thought that fanatics under Cryptic Constructor liked to make simple concepts sound more…cryptic?

That aside, he was right to assume that Cryptic Constructor was some kind of god that people worshipped. But there was much more here than just that. Sacred Prism? That sounded very much like that lens that fused into his eyes after enlightenment. Then there was that line, 'Aetheric Void, an expanse that grows with each insight.'

This was interesting—however it didn't make sense without more context, so he continued reading.

'To peer into the elusive depth of reality, to bear witness to the unobserved facets of reality, one must be ready to offer a sacrifice. An offering not of material wealth or mundane possession, but of eyes. A piece of existence, surrendered unto the unseeable forces, a token to placate the Architect's ineffable attendants.

These unseen servants, known to us as the Silent Schemers, respond to the call of sacrifice. They are the sacred harbingers of our divine patron, poised to grant a miraculous insight to those brave and devoted enough.

When your sacrifice rings true, the Silent Schemers will bestow upon you a divine revelation—a glimpse into the heart of reality. This miracle is not for the faint of heart, nor for those of narrow vision. It is an enlightening terror, an awe-inspiring spectacle, a testament to the boundless complexity of the cosmos.

So stand firm, acolyte. Cast your offering into the void and be ready to behold the unseeable. This is but the first fragment of your journey, the initial step into the realm of the Architect of Abstractions. Proceed with reverence and caution, for this path is treacherous, yet it is one to true enlightenment.'

This…ritual had to be what that madman was conducting in his room. It sucked that he didn't actually remember all the details, but his notes definitely spoke of a similar event.

This might also explain the weird reaction Garfield had according to Vern’s notes—he was looking at the air in front of him with horror. He probably saw an 'enlightening terror' after the sacrifice rang true. Hmm, but that still doesn't explain the involvement of those two men and the knocks Garfield was blabbering about.

Also, it seemed like the diagram from the Objective Record of Subjectivity wasn't a famous method of enlightenment. Why would anyone sacrifice 'eyes' to unknown entities if they could simply comprehend a diagram and be done with it?

Hmm, I don't really have a reference as to how difficult it is to comprehend that diagram. What if it is much more challenging for others to grasp its nature? Also, he didn't know the amount of effort or cost that went into making that diagram.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

Did the Observer Society also have resource limitations? The thought made him chuckle. No matter how grim the contents of this parchment were, there was no reason for him to feel despondent over it. This was study material, after all.

Flipping the page over, he skipped the first two paragraphs that detailed how to prepare the sacrifice because there was something far more interesting right beneath it. Written in the same red ink that was used for the symbol, completely distinct from the rest of the text, it read,

'First Vision: Instability Inducement

In the realm of existence, all structures bear the mark of the Cryptic Constructor, from the sturdiest fortress to the sharpest blade. Each object, each creation, carries within it a silent resonance, a harmony of order and purpose.

Yet, within this cohesive resonance, an underlying instability lurks. A minute, whispering inconsistency that yearns to be unveiled. This is the flaw, the hidden imperfection, the seed of potential entropy that resides in all things.

Seek first the comprehension of this instability. Delve into the arcane depths of the artifact's essence, the silent whisper of its narrative, the story it tells of its own creation. Understand its pattern, its consistency, its continuity.

This understanding is your key.

Now, Disciples, extend thy perception into the Aetheric Void. Draw upon the essence of your thoughts, and allow this inscrutable wisdom to permeate your mind, your senses, your very being.

Let the hidden flaws pulse within the Aetheric Void. Accentuate their rifts, highlight their edges, quicken their divergence. The subtle fissure will grow to a chasm, the minor fracture to a shattering split.

The flaw will reveal itself, growing, spreading, until the edifice is undermined, the structure compromised, the fortress crumbled or the blade shattered.

Such is the power of the Cryptic Constructor, and such is the power bestowed upon you, his chosen disciples.

Seek the flaws. Understand them. Exploit them.

This is but the beginning, the first edifice in the composition of reality. So it is written. So it shall be.'

Vern's heart pounded with exhilaration as he clutched the ends of the parchment, reflexively leaning in closer to get a better look at each word. It was as if every word was a passage of its own, loaded with boundless intent.

The words created connections in his mind that didn't exist, giving him insights into how the world was composited, how they transmuted from one to the others—it was just like fundamentals.

Every insight that came to his mind was a fleeting thought—they entered his mind and gave him a vague idea before another one reared its head without a pause. It was like someone just told him the answer to a tricky question they asked, but before he could understand the logic behind it, another person came in, told him their question, and answered right after. Then this cycle repeated.

It gave him the sense that his thoughts were growing, expanding. But they felt…foreign. Like that text you memorized but didn't understand. Except, something concrete was also taking shape in his mind. It was like a path was being etched amidst the plexus of his thoughts.

Every moment that unfolded, the path grew distinct as the foreign notions gravitated towards it, assimilating into its edges.

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He couldn't discern the passage of time as he sat there in a trance.

His forehead was teeming with sweat, and his head throbbed with intense pulsations. It was the feeling he used to have when he crammed too much, and every thought made him anxious that he would forget something.

What the hell was that?

He sat back up straight and wiped the sweat with his sleeve before massaging his temples.

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Quarter-hour bells chimed from the clocktower yet again, and he finally looked back up at the clock that hung on the wall. Its shortest hand was about to reach two, while the minute's hand was past three-quarters.

He didn't even feel like being surprised anymore. Every time he encountered something related to Observation, the time became less and less perceivable.

But this is exciting! A Vision!

The words definitely had some kind of subjectivity to them, just like that diagram in Observation Record of Subjectivity.

Its effects were clear from the words, and the whole concept seemed very fitting for Vern's own viewpoint. Except, he didn't know how to translate the ideas mentioned into a construct of balance.

Still, some of the ideas mentioned could easily be mapped one to one from his own viewpoint.

Though, he still wasn't sure how to perform the actual manipulation part. The words 'Let the hidden flaws pulse within the Aetheric Void. Accentuate their rifts, highlight their edges, quicken their divergence. The subtle fissure will grow to a chasm, the minor fracture to a shattering split.' were surely describing the envisioning part, but that Aetheric void stumped him yet again.

This description made it seem like Aetheric void was just a fancy word for his perception. But the first few lines in the Parchment used the same word in a completely different context.

One step at a time.

However, this brief shift in thinking reminded him of the burden, and his mood dampened instantly. How would this knowledge interact with that burden? Would it make it easier for Hensen to find him? The parchment was definitely very useful, but it didn’t have any clue on what to do about this burden.

But well. Not something I can do much about. I really need this edge, no matter what. Just in half a day, someone has already erased my memories once. Who knows what else is waiting out there? If he didn't have a habit of writing down events, he would still be perplexed over what the hell happened to him during that lapse in his memories.

So he shook his head, got up, and stretched his lethargic body for a while.

When he felt a little more energized, he sat back down and opened his perception. It was time to see what changed.

At first, it was obviously completely black since he hadn't chosen what to Observe. So he gave it a thought and settled on a keyword that was the essence of that whole Vision described in the parchment.

Composition

He didn't believe that 'flaw' was the proper keyword since flaws only existed within compositions. What flaw existed by itself? Just thinking about it gave him a headache.

But nothing changed. His perception remained as dark as ever.

Disappointing, but it's only to be expected. It would have been nice if all those new insights actually filled his perception by themselves, like back in the library.

Well, no matter. He would have to determine how to assign shades of gray to an intangible concept like 'composition.'

It wouldn't work to just think about the outline of an object, like heat or height. If he was Observing heat, he could simply assign hotter objects as whiter and darken the shades of grays as things turned colder.

Similarly, he could assign height just like he saw back in the library for the staircase, with the ceiling being white and the floor being dark. But how was one supposed to think about composition in terms of balance?

Feeling foolish for jumping into Observing something that he didn’t know how to rationalize, he closed his perception and brainstormed.

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Many minutes passed by as he sat there in silence, contemplating the myriad theories he had learned throughout his life, retrofitting those ideas to suit the scenario.

The melodious bells did their eternal duty—reminding him of the passage of time, even so deep in the night. And after a few more minutes, he finally found a solution.

The first thing he decided was not to try and assign shades to the whole room. That was something he had realized he had been doing unnecessarily. Why perceive the whole room if he just had to manipulate laws for one small object?

So, since he needed to look for the composition, he chose an object with multiple flavors of it. The Lumenscope that sat there on his desk shoved to one side of it.

His idea was to view composition as a balance of complexity instead.