Iris

“I’m sorry. I really am, Lady Iris.”

Noah bowed his head. It didn’t suit his noble figure. She wasn’t quite sure what to do.

“Please, lift your head up. I understand.”

“We will just have to see.”

Iris nodded. It was a risk she knew well. The blood of the immortal had drawbacks. But the question left unanswered was if Francis could handle it. Of all the times she met up with him, and of all the times she was forced to use this last resort, she only began to succeed after the 4th life.

The sleeping body of Francis Rayleigh sat down. Beneath his peaceful exterior, just what was happening? She could not afford to lose him now.

“Is it just me, Lady Iris, or are his eyes moving?”

“Hm?”

She turned to face him again. Beneath the thin eyelids, there seemed to be some movement. And, for a moment, his eyelids quivered. Like a giant beginning to wake up.

“Is it already over?” Noah asked.

“No, it shouldn’t be this quick. Not even for me.”

“For you?”

“Nevermind that.”

“Mm...”

Iris moved closer. The emperor slowly woke, his eyes darting around the environment before focusing on her face. He narrowed his eyes.

“Francis?”

He opened his mouth. Nothing came out. He looked just as confused as they were.

“I don’t suppose the emperor is a mute?” Noah asked.

“He isn't. Is this a side effect of the attack?”

“Can’t say for sure. But he doesn’t seem to be panicking.”

“I think he understands what’s going on, but maybe he’s still in shock?”

“Either way, nod and shake your head. Do you know where you are?” Noah asked.

He shook his head. That was expected.

“And do you know who I am?” Another shake. But, Francis pointed his finger at Iris. He shook his head, and she raised her eyebrows.

“Memory loss?” Noah muttered.

“Awfully calm for memory loss. Do you know who you are?”

Francis closed his eyes. He tilted his head, as if to say both. He stood up, and looked around. For a supposed amnesiac, he was far too calm. But perhaps he was always like that.

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“Well, just slap the air or raise your hand if there’s an issue. We can’t do much anyway,” Noah said.

“You adapt really quickly. That archaic speech is mostly gone now.”

“Can’t help it. The blood of Misoi is running through me.”

“You have her too?”

“Hey, I didn’t want to be born from an orgy either.”

There was a touch from behind. Francis poked at her waist, and motioned for her to come closer. Iris raised an eyebrow, and obliged.

He grasped her hand, and gestured to the air. Like a conductor, or maybe a painter. Still, Iris got the gist of it. She directed a gentle flow of mana into her fingertips, and he nodded. Drawing a message of light in the air, Noah read it out loud. He could even read reversed, it seemed like.

“‘I am Francis Rayleigh, not the one that you are familiar with. Nor am I the one currently in control of this body at the moment. We’ve met once before, Iris, when we went above the skies.’ Do you have any idea of what’s happening?”

“‘Unfortunately, I cannot maintain control over this forever. Thus, I shall make this brief. I am currently dealing with the spiritual aspect of the two pronged attack. And I am taking temporary control to help the two of you,’” Iris continued. “‘The current Francis Rayleigh that you met just now is not Francis Rayleigh. Instead, it is a synthetic personality, notably dated approximately a year after ending up in this world.’”

“Even with Misoi’s blood, I understand nothing. In the first place Lady Iris, what is this?”

“It's an extremely long story, so I’ll make it short. This guy came from another world.”

“Oh... That’s interesting.”

Francis motioned to the muscular man and tilted his head.

“Ah, you wouldn’t be familiar. Do you want to explain what and who you are, Noah? Actually, will you even remember all this, Francis?” He nodded.

“Very well.” Noah took a deep breath. “I am a demigod. But not the type of demigod that you might be thinking of.”

From the tips of his fingers, he used magic to conjure up an image. A good number of beautiful men and women, of all ages, and types were all flirting and mingling with each other. Iris recognised a few of them. Gods and goddesses, his parents.

“You might be thinking that I am half human, and half divine. But you would only be half right. Due to how matters of the divine work, I am indeed half human. However, the half isn’t pure god. Instead, it's a weird mixture of all the gods and goddesses that were involved in the orgy.”

“I’ll ask for him, was Bahamut involved?”

“The True Dragon? No, typically, the more abstract, and ‘weird’ ones are virgins or asexual. Bahamut, is neither. He’s a dragon. Not really a lot of dragons up there. But y’know. Truth, Yharion, them.”

Francis nodded, and leaned closer to listen. It seemed like the god of storytelling was taking a majority share of his genes. Iris stood up and left. Venturing further into the library, lamps lit up as she got close, and snuffed out once she passed.

She had heard the story a hundred times over. Born of an orgy attended by an unknown number of gods and goddesses, at an unstable time. The Great Shift happened close to a thousand and two hundred years ago, where rules and standards were formalised. In order to have a child, they needed to go through ages of bureaucracy, even if a mortal had caught their fancy. That was not to say that they didn’t illegally do that, however. But indeed, the plague of demigods subsided. Claimed by their rightful divine parents, the Age of Myths disappeared. Noah was the final one.

Without any way to do a genealogy test on the earth, and the gods absolutely refusing to, he was left alone. Abandoned by his myriad of parents. Since then, he wandered the earth, before locking himself in this library.

Iris ran her finger down the spine of a book. The purple cover and gold letterings spoke of a certain quality. Noah and Francis were far away by now. Being alone was better, after all. She could hear her own thoughts, as well as every minute detail.

“‘A dissertation on the soul,’ is it?” she said out loud. “It seems like things really are that different here.”

She removed the book from its rightful place. Written by a certain Sage Bewrig, it was a name she was unfamiliar with. After rifling through the pages, she reached a conclusion. There was nothing contained there that she did not know. But the definitions, the phrasings, the analogies. Everything was similar to what she would have said.

“Katalina, can you hear me?” she called out.

There was no reply. She tried again, but the same results returned. It seemed like the seal Noah imposed on the library blocked all communications in and out. Iris made her way back.