Chapter 60 - The Land of Dark Sun

One-Hundred Ninety.

One-Hundred Ninety-one.

One-Hundred Ninety-two.

One-Hundred Ninety-three.

One-Hundred Nin—

He finally stopped counting as the numbness that draped over his senses began to wane, and the feeling returned. His heart began pumping, followed by his arms, legs, back, and every other part of the body heating up.

He still had no control over his eyelids, so he pondered. Now that he didn't need to Count the number of seconds it took for death or something even bizarre to claim him, he let the misery rush in.

It had been over a minute and a half already.

They are dead. All dead.

And here he was, counting the number of seconds for the sake of distracting himself during that inexistential silence. But it did do him some good, since he managed to rationalize it.

It was a tough pill to swallow, but it was over.

It was great while it lasted. Even if all he experienced around them was danger, adrenaline, and bittersweet emotions—it was worth it. It had been fun to masquerade as just another human being in whatever was left of the society.

But maybe he wasn't suited for simple joys like these. Things never ended well. Not today, not the last three times.

He had hoped things were different this time. They were more capable than him in some aspects, after all. Not like his previous attempts, where he tried to make friends with a street urchin or that new apprentice.

It was a skewed balance.

All he needed was knowledge and proper information to advance and progress with his Observation. But that was one thing he had the greatest trouble with.

Every piece of intel came with a death sentence attached to it. He wondered if it'd have been better to take up Shinsei on his offer yesterday. Maybe he'd have known what to do right now instead of running away like a coward.

Things would be so different.

And now I think in 'ifs' and 'buts,' too?

He shook his head. What happened was already set in stone. He didn't know how to process this guilt right now, and letting it fester was a tempting offer that he jumped at, without any hesitation.

This reminded him that he was able to shake his head. So, he was already in control of his body.

Alongside the plethora of emotions coursing through his brain, another one reared its head—excitement. And maybe fear, too.

What was it going to be? What did it mean to make contact with Cryptic Constructor's rune?

One part of him was dying to open his eyes, while the other wanted to find ways to make it safer. That he could just lie down here and spend a long time before going back out.

He obviously managed to convince himself to do the former.

Blinking his eyelids, he finally opened them and took in the sight.

Good heavens!

It was really the heavens that awestruck him.

He was lying on his back somewhere, but he didn't have the mind to care about that. The sky was dominated by a celestial body that defied explanation—an orb of utter darkness at the center, surrounded by a blazing ring of warm, golden light.

This ring had an almost liquid luminosity, bending around the dark core in an enigmatic dance. The effect was disconcerting, yet oddly comforting—a dark sun that cast its unique radiance upon the world below, turning the sky a dark, hazy red.

He kept staring at the marvel for who knew how long. He'd have missed the counting now, even if he had kept up with it. The sight actually gave him a twisted sense of peace—of life and death.

.

.

.

But after a while, he felt it.

A sense of loss. It was like someone ripped a piece of his flesh—a very small piece.

He frowned and thought to himself, Is it the sky again?

Were skies always this dangerous? The gash, up in the Elmhurst's sky had done something to him, and now this? So he tore his gaze away from the celestial marvel and focused on his surroundings.

He pushed himself up and supported himself with his arms as he surveyed the lands.

What in the name of steam is…this?

The sight made him question his eyes. So he brought one of the hands to his face for closer inspection—grabbing a fistful of ash from the ground while at it.

It was everywhere.

Not just the ash but the layers upon layers of fallen structures. A sprawling landscape of crumbled edifices assaulted his sight, all stacked haphazardly like a mountain range made of ruins.

Bringing the ash close to his nose, he inhaled with a deep waft.

Hmm, there's no smell in the ash.

That was odd. Whatever burnt had either no inherent smell or it had just been sitting here for very long.

Vern preferred to believe in the second theory, given the state of affairs all around him. These structures had definitely been left untouched for an eternity. He wondered what would happen if he got too close to them. What if they crumbled and buried him alive on a touch?

The thought alone was disturbing.

However, something still wasn't right.

He had stopped looking at the astronomical spectacle above. Yet, that feeling or erosion within himself didn't go away. On a mental level, it felt more like something was forcing him to change himself. As in to fit more within this world.

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However, this didn't incite a sense of urgency within him. Whatever was happening was slow. In fact, it was so slow he guessed it would take tens of hours before he would feel any significant change.

Obviously, the other reason was that he couldn't leave. Not that he couldn't, but it'd be dumb to jump back into that one-sided battlefield. The inverted triangles within his mind had reforged themselves—his thoughts flowing to the conduit within the triangles naturally.

He guessed it would be as simple as redirecting his thoughts elsewhere, and this sight would end. This world of ash, ruin, and cosmic wonders would be gone in the blink of an eye.

So he flitted through the possibilities of what could be happening.

It isn't sapping away my representation.

He knew how it felt to lose representation when using Visions. This wasn't it. This was something far beyond that. He was being deprived of something permanently. An essential part of him.

This had to be the cost of staying in this…whatever this place was.

But what exactly?

My Thoughts?

That was as likely as it was unlikely.

So he unclenched his fist, and the ash seeped through the gaps of his fingers before he shoved his hand into his coat's pocket.

Luckily, he didn't lose his outfit this time, or it'd have been a mess next time he woke up.

.

.

.

Next to the bodies of Cera and Ambrose.

Ughh

He would get nothing done if he kept circling back to them. This was an opportunity, and he had to make the most out of it. He was going to lose more than just this unknown part of himself if he couldn't handle Hensen whenever he came.

And he didn't want to feel helpless. Not anymore.

It had happened far too often for his liking, just within a week. He even entertained the thought that he wasn't suited for a dangerous life like this. He was a scholar and, pretending to not be one, had parted him from things he liked one after another. First his life, then Ari, then everyone else.

So he sat straighter on the ashen ground and leafed through all his notes—the light of his lamp dissipating enough darkness to let him read. There was nothing else in his sight other than rubble, so it was probably fine to just sit and read.

Take his mind off saddening matters.

.

.

.

It was a waste.

Mostly.

He hadn't written anything about the eve of Duskfall into the notepad for obvious reasons. And nothing else was of much help. Not even the details of that parchment that described Instability Inducement.

However, perusing through the chain of events did set him up for an interesting discovery. It started with some very choice words by Hensen and Ambrose. Hensen had said something along the lines of, "And you just happened to break all your Shackles of Subjectivity during your Enlightenment?"

Whereas Ambrose mentioned, "Each method of Enlightenment loosens the Shackles of Subjectivity to a certain extent."

At one glance, it didn't seem all that connected. But if one looked at the underlying meaning of 'Shackles of Subjectivity,' there was a connection to his current situation.

According to Vern's short analysis of semantics, Shackles of Subjectivity were literal Shackles on one's Viewpoint. As in, one with a tighter shackle would have difficulty Observing something that doesn't align with their viewpoint or thinking.

So Esther would have had a hard time reconciling with how Vern perceived things or understood them.

However, there was another possibility. This one felt like a better match from his understanding of Observation and all the related concepts.

It was that there was something akin to a unified perspective of the masses and the society, and living under this Unified perspective for extended periods placed a shackle on the very mind itself.

Then, breaking these shackles is a measure of how much an Observer can distinguish themselves from this Unified perspective and immerse into their own.

That was to say, the looser the Shackles, the better of an Observer one can be.

However, he wasn't excited about having figured out this little semantic puzzle for the sake of it. It held significance right this moment.

What if this gnawing feeling at his being was just a manifestation of the Shackles being put back on or getting tighter? According to Hensen, Vern had broken the Shackles to the limit.

But, now, by sitting here in this realm of Cryptic Constructor, he was being shackled again. Forced into the Unified perspective.

No. Not the Unified perspective. What if it's related to the Cryptic Constructor?

That staying in this realm forced his perspective to subtly shift in favor of the Constructor's perspective.

This has to be it!

Jotting down the details of his findings and thought process into the notepad in a somewhat obscure fashion, he shoved it back into his coat.

He let out a deep breath and finally loosened up a little.

This small step forward felt like bathing in steam in snowy weather. Something finally worked his way. Knowing that he was essentially giving away his future potential just by being here, he sprang to his feet.

Taking off his coat to bear the hot weather, he picked the only direction available to him and started moving. The path behind him was blocked by the piece of some exotic structure—with tens of openings for what seemed to be windows. But overall, he couldn't put a finger on what exactly the inspirations were.

He knew he wasn't here to sightsee, but he considered it essential to figure out his surroundings. Specially in such a marvelous setting.

This seemed to be the ruin of some old city wrecked by something ten times worse than worst earthquakes. It was almost as if the buildings were dropped from the skies.

His eyes still found it hard to not wander upwards and marvel at this dark sun.

Is there a name for this kind of phenomenon? Ari would know…

Only he didn't know where she was.

That's when a spark ran through his mind, and he stopped walking.

What were those three bodies in the Nexus?

They were wearing white robes, too. Didn't that mean Ari was taken away or coaxed by the members of this religion? It was not to say that there can only be one organization with such an outfit, but it was a lead.

A lead to finally find Ari.

But.

One step at a time.

Filing away this information in the notepad, he continued wandering this desolate land. He passed by many foreign and outlandish constructions—all broken, twisted, or contorted beyond any sense.

The materials that comprised these structures didn't resemble wood, stone, or metal. Instead, they were an amalgamation of substances that defied categorization, shimmering in the unique light of the dark sun overhead.

Once, he even passed between two chunks of what seemed like one singular building. But their insides were…bizarre, uncanny even. It was as if the interior space didn't adhere to the logic of conventional architecture. The walls, or what should have been walls, appeared almost porous, filled with cavities.

Cavities that looked like they could either be rooms or tunnels of sorts, lined with fibrous material resembling a cross between mineral and organic matter. The whole experience was disorienting, and yet it felt like an eerie sort of order reigned within the chaos.

The irony of Cryptic Constructor's realm being filled with a hodge-podge of not-so-well-constructed structures didn't go unnoticed by Vern, and it tingled his fancy for dark humor.

Luckily, there was no one else to share this feeling with. He wouldn't want an unwanted company to spring up to him in this desolate land. He couldn't deal with anything that could survive and thrive in this atmosphere.

This continued for about half an hour before the vista finally had a real change. And it was a jarring one.

What is this…?

A gigantic shadow stretched ahead of him—an oddity since the warm ambient light from the dark sun was already so dim. So he looked up and just stared for a while.

It was something akin to a pyramid, made of the same shiny material, patched together in an inconsistent manner. What was peculiar, however, was that it pointed downwards instead of up. Its peak was floating a couple hundred meters high with nary a movement.

It hadn't been visible beforehand because of how tall some of the rubble in his path had gotten, but now that he was here, he was awed by it.

Until he moved on and walked into the shadow.

However, Just as he was about to delve deeper into this shadowy land, a niggling caution held him back. The sense of his subjectivity eroding—or shackles tightening intensified the closer he got to this shadow.

And it wasn't a gradual increase. Just within a few steps, he was losing his Subjectivity twice as fast as before.

No. This is not worth it.

He quickly acted on his thoughts and ran back in the direction he came from. As expected, the erosion slowed down to an earlier pace.

It seems the more I progress, the worse it'll get?

Unless there's a way to reduce this loss, he couldn't go any farther. And Vern had no problems with that.

He was getting tired from all the walking anyway. He had seen enough to feel safe and let himself wander off in his conscious, trying to figure out a new Vision.

So he picked a structure that seemed to jut out at a horizontal angle the same as the ground and perched atop it.

Now comfortable, he began with the Vision he'd been hoping to get his hands on the most.

Gravity.