Chapter 72 - Why me?

"Speak, insignificant one. By what means didst thou dare to engage with mine own representation?" said the entity as he continued hammering away.

CLANG

TANG

The words registered in Vern's mind, but the sight stunned him too much to conjure any response. In what could only be called a dimly lit environment, he saw the back of a man—no, a humanoid.

The entity didn't wear anything except a thin cloth around his waist. Sleek circular patterns of silver ran along his aqua-blue skin, glowing faintly in the dark, while cyan specks of dust glittered all over his lean muscles.

CLANG

With every hit, his long dazzling silver hair billowed with a ferocious intensity as silver glyphs of some sort emerged from the item resting on the anvil. Stretching those impossibly lean tendons taut above its head, it hammered down at the anvil in a crushing blow—

TANGG

This…

This…this is no human.

But then, what was it? A new species? Or a very old one?

Its face, deeply mired by shadows, lit up every other second as glowing glyphs came bursting out of whatever was taking that savage hammering. The weapon itself was a construct of an unknown quantity, silver particles streaming behind it as it streaked through the air like a blur—hit after hit.

BANG

CLANG

In a stunned curiosity, Vern finally managed to tear his eyes away from the entity to look at the object being forged, only to feel his brain throb with intense pulsations.

A chill ran down his spine as that dead eye on the anvil, stared right back at him.

Fuck!

Fuck! Fuck! What the hell is all this? What is going on? This entity looked exactly what many imagined gods to be. But was it really a god?

Vern had contradicting views on the matter, and there had to be a better explanation.

But that's when the entity suddenly stopped, his muscles flexed to an unimaginable degree before its voice boomed in Vern's ears and permeated through his very being, "I demand. Speak, insignificant one. I shan't repeat myself."

CLANG

CRUNCH

Wave after wave of silver glyphs exploded from the eye on the anvil but Vern found himself utterly incapable of actions or speech.

But he had to answer. He had to answer. This was no mere threat. This was a promise—a promise of destruction and annihilation if the command was not obeyed.

This situation wasn't like when he faced that eye in the sky. There, he had a retreat at hand. Here? He didn't even bother thinking about running away. He had no clue how this was going to play out.

So he did his best to rationalize this impossibility. First thing at hand was to give an answer.

Mustering courage he didn't knew he had, he spoke, using this time to theorize what the fuck was going on, "I recently acquired an Insight Sphere from Ascendant Council in the city of Elmhurst within Calidian Empire. A few moments ago, I attempted to retrieve one of the representation cloud stored within it. That's all I really did."

But even after stating the facts so clearly, his nervousness didn't subside. Instead, the entity's lack of reaction only scared him more.

No. Think. Think, god damn it.

.

.

.

Ascendant Council.

Was it possible that him coming here had something to do with that cursed place? But he never encountered such a situation when he accessed that other cloud of representation in the Insight sphere.

Could this be the person that came down the stairs in the Ascendant Council when I ran away?

But he quickly found a loophole in that argument. That being in the council was a woman, nothing like this entity in front of him.

But when he followed this train of thought and eliminated some random conjectures, an insane yet hopeful possibility crossed his mind. As much as it was a leap of faith, it was also logical to an extent.

Could this be...Yharl Ballin?

His benefactor. The one that had gifted him that book—Observation record of Subjectivity, allowing him to survive the nightmare that was the Duskfall or Sorrows.

But Vern remembered what the butler Beaumont at Hotel Inkwell had told him. That there was no administrator named Yharl Ballin. That the ascendant Council was run by some other guy.

There was no trace of Yharl Ballin's existence. At least not after the Duskfall.

CLANG

"Hahh," sighed the entity, almost like a human, "A blunder on mine avatar's part, I presume. Then, I hath better erase thine memory of this happenstance, and let thee go. For knowledge is a burden too great."

"Uh, um, no. Please wait..."

The entity didn't seem to hear him as it deposited the hammer into the air, and the weapon didn't dare move an inch—defying gravity as if it didn't exist. The silver sparks on the entity's hands grew shinier as he plunged them ahead of him and tore open at the air.

No. I can't waste this chance. I need to at least try!

Not letting the entity complete whatever it was doing Vern shouted, "Benefactor Yharl Ballin, please wait!"

The god-entity suddenly stopped. The air stilled and breathing became a chore. The world seized up, and even the shine of the glyphs faded into nothingness.

Did that mean he had guessed correctly?

In this suffocating atmosphere, the entity turned its head a little. Barely lit by the glow of the patterns from its own skin, the being had immaculately handsome features beset by the glowing orbs that were those eyes.

They shone like a beacon in the dark sea, plethora of glyphs visible within their infinite depth. And then something churned within them.

Vern felt naked. Nothing could be hidden. It was as if every fiber of his being was dismantled before being placed back. The same was true for his mind and his every cell.

He was being scanned in some unknown capacity. The process almost dazed him into nothingness, but then he finally heard, "I understand." And all the crushing pressure that had been boring down on him vaporized like it never existed.

The voice that had been utterly impassive up until now seemed to be mixed with some kind of emotion as it echoed from all around him, "Thou art of passing skill for thee survived the rebellion of radiance. Perchance, the sole seed to have done so out'o all I hath scattered in the realm of mortals. I commend thee for thou hath achieved great deeds in a mere speck of time."

But then it squinted and uttered, "Yet, know that architect of reality, the Constructor of Cryptic realms doth watch over thee. Tis a burden thou art not yet fit to bear."

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Then, the god-entity turned around and walked over in Vern's direction, glyphs pouring out of the ground from its every step. Vern had misunderstood the height of the entity. Since by the time it was right in front of him, Vern had to crane his neck up high to look it in the eyes.

A fresh change for him since he rarely had to look up to anyone.

The azure being put its hand on Vern's head, and not one inch of his being dared protest. But he had to!

Is it still trying to erase my memories? But why!? Vern didn't want to forget. Yharl Ballin had been a mystery that had always been on his mind. The question of who assisted him back then, and why, had been one of his innermost motivations.

Every cell in his body was clearly aware that he was not the one in control. That one squeeze of that arm resting on his head would end it here, once and for all.

However, before he managed to gather his courage, a silver shape appeared in his mind. Avoiding his Thought Space altogether, it headed toward the Third rune. Wrapping those two inverted triangles in what seemed like a bubble made of glyphs, the entity removed his hand and turned around, walking back to his ethereal smithy.

Vern stood there speechless. What was this? Was erasure of memories a slow process? Or had it given him something else?

He had a million questions, but he couldn't bring himself to speak out of turn, for the sheer presence of this entity made him ashamed of his own existence.

But then it spoke, its deep voice seeming a little…reluctant, "Depart thou hence. For each fleeting moment within this domain doth betray thy presence. The viewpoint of a Primal Visionary is a temptation too alluring, even for them. I have bestowed upon thee a chance to elude the doom of Elden descent. Once. Employ it with great sagacity."

That was...incredible. He couldn't even begin to fathom the value of this gift. Yet, there was a louder voice in his mind that urged him to ask questions. He had a million, and surely this entity had the answers, and it was nothing but confirmed that the being had no intentions of harming him.

Afraid he might be kicked out before he had a chance, Vern let loose, "Benefactor, forgive me for asking, but could I request another gift? A gift of knowledge? What is this Rebellion of Radiance? What caused a third of our planet's lives to be culled? What—"

"Inquire not further, for knowledge is a burden most heavy." interrupted the entity with a serious tone, "There abide Observers with Visions beyond thy ken. Thy awareness of their existence might verily lead to their cognizance of thine own. A burden thou art not yet fit to bear."

However, before Vern could protest any further, the being waved his hand, and Vern's vision began to fade. He was being expelled!

"Nevertheless, I shall impart unto thee one truth. Objectivity is shattered and those from beyond the veil seek to claim the ownerless representation, while the pollution spreads unchecked. Be aware that thy world can't escape the doom, and on this occasion, it won't turn back."

Is that what all this is? It even knows about the reversal of time. This...

A hundred more questions flitted past his mind, but none of them seemed like something he would get an answer for in this short time. So before he lost this opportunity, he decided to ask that one question that was buried so deep down his own conscience that no one but his insecure imposter self could dig it out.

"Why me?" he asked, unsure what he wanted to hear.

What had he ever done to deserve this opportunity? Why help him? Neither was he a member of some peerless heritage, nor was he born with limitless talent. Everything he had in this life required untold sacrifices on his part.

The world turned dark, but those eyes still shone brilliantly as it replied, "Why not? Life experience and choices shape one's viewpoint, not merely the circumstances of one's birth. Thine own journey, akin to many others, merited an opportunity. An opportunity to struggle."

"To peer into the shades of reality."

Then, the entity picked up his hammer, and—

CLANG

Everything shattered.

"…"

"…"

"…e…n"

"Vern"

"Vern! Where are you?!"

"Vern! Stop scaring me. I can't do this alone!"

"…umm…should I force him out of here?… no that could leave him as a vegetable."

"…should I try to send the distress signal myself? But I don't fucking understand how any of this works…this f—"

"Huh? Is this a feeling of…awe? And…dread?"

"Vern? Vern. That's you, right? I am not feeling any of that scrapshit. It has to be you! Come out here."

When he finally came to, Esther, garbed in that long white dress without her wings, paced in front of her dazzling piano. The instrument looked as beautiful as herself, and it wasn't broken or tattered one bit.

So, the Insight Sphere really worked? It restored her representation.

"Damn right, it worked! Now show yourself, you selfish creep. Where the hell have you been!?"

Well, apparently, she could still read his thoughts or something like that.

Still perplexed about his recent experience, Vern distractedly conjured a physical form in her Thought Space. She seemed to prefer to communicate like humans in here instead of two formless voices screaming at each other.

He didn't mind it.

Pulling him by his arm, she guided him to the bench in front of her piano. Once seated beside him, she stared down with a suspicious look.

When she didn't budge, Vern gave in and sated her curiosity, "I don't know."

At his words, she took a deep breath and chanted with a zealous fervor, "I am nice. I am nice. I am nice. I shouldn't read your thoughts. I shouldn't read your thoughts. I don't need to know. I don't need to know.

"Umm, Esther, didn't you swear that you can't read my thoughts?"

"Swear? Me? Hmph. If it wasn't in the name of the great Elysion, it doesn't count."

However, before he could protest any further, she placed a finger in front of her lips and shushed him.

"I will deal with you later. Right now, I want to introduce my mother to you and that cunt up there in the sky. Can we focus on that, please?"

His mind still whirled with all he'd heard and seen, but soon, the urgency of the situation settled on him once again. If they delayed too much, the swordsman might slip up. And that would be it.

He can't let that happen. That swordsman was the reason he could even talk to Esther right now. That Cera and Ambrose were alive and kicking. That his shaky conscience wasn't burdened by their deaths.

So, with a deep breath, he rested his palms on the keys of the piano and waited for her to guide him.

She rested her palms on his, and asked, "Are you sure the station can still send another signal? I can only control these meager amount of Essence strands."

It was a valid question. Many of the strands feeding into the piano were either outright missing or severely damaged. These represented the shattered and decimated objects within the station itself.

Nonetheless, the objects that mattered weren't beyond help. He could even fix the malfunctioning ones with his Vision working in conjunction with hers. So he replied with a firm voice, "Trust me."

She nodded imperceptibly, and began the final piece.

----------------------------------------

Quentin couldn't believe he was being held off by a mere plebian, a disgusting foreigner at that. The wretched thing had the gall to disrespect Mother Asea and question his burden.

His kin's burden!

Mother had ordained her own death, and as her most beloved children, his kin had carried out her wish. Killed her.

But she wasn't gone. Such a world won't be worth living in. No, no, she was merely finding herself suitable vessels. For her rebirth. For a new beginning!

And this hateful peasant was barring him from presenting Mother with a vessel of immense potential. A specimen that had finally ripened. She was a fruit they had been waiting to pluck and preserve since forever.

Her sister had changed the whole world when she accepted the gods within her. Now, it was time for the younger sister to follow in the footsteps of the elder.

However, he did recently hear that another candidate of immense potential was procured. But Mother had many avatars, so the more the merrier.

Only Mother could realize the true potential of these simple-minded fools. These unworthy rabble didn't realize what they were running away from.

"Tch."

It was time to finish this. He had seen enough. He would end it once and for all. He would sacrifice his past month's insights to Mother. This was dragging on for too long, and his pride couldn't allow him to be toyed by these pests anymore.

A smile of pure bliss blossomed on his face, further enhancing his already perfect visage as he visualized Mother's effigy, her infinite love, and—

WENGGGG

But that's when something completely unexpected happened. It was those ignorant imbeciles. Playing with that machine in hopes of calling reinforcements. He didn't really believe they could reach anyone with it. Yet, he had chosen to err on the side of caution.

But this can't be! More than half of that machine was grounded down to smoke. How was it still working!? He hastily conjured a Plane of Preservation, placing it in the path of that thing, but…

No!

All his preservation aura was currently grinding that foreigner bastard to death. That…that…was to say his absolute Plane of Preservation wouldn't be ready in time.

It just wouldn't.

Well, fuck it! I need to wrap this up!

So he ignored that blasted thing shooting from the station and proclaimed, his voice booming throughout this pathetic land, "You've done it now, you meddling fools. You've called upon my wrath. I will end each and every one of you miscreants!"

He would blow it all. Mother's tears can then heal that ignorant girl, priming her for descent.

It was perfect!

Keeping that annoying foreigner at bay with the least amount of effort, he reenacted the sacrificial ritual. In a minute or so, a chunk of his notions from the Thought Space evaporated, yet everything else became brighter, and he felt a surge of energy boiling within him.

"BEHOLD, FOR I AM THE ARCHITECT OF YOUR DEMISE. ARIA OF DOOM!" he declared, his voice echoing through the station as he drew a sphere around its edges, orchestrating an implosion that would grind everything within to dust.

Radiant arcs began materializing out of thin air around the place, slowly coalescing into spherical perfection. However, just as he was about to finalize the core and unleash his wrath, a flash of brilliant red lightning streaked down from the heavens, stealing all his thunder, and the world turned red.

The ground trembled, dust billowed, and smoke swirled into the air, revealing the silhouette of a formidable figure emerging from the lightning's heart. A shudder went down his spine as he realized who it was. And the voice that came next only confirmed his worst fears—

"Grandiose words for a flying corpse. Let me offer you a reality check."