“I see. So, you already read most of the important stuff through Pronos,” Rakna commented as he flipped through the pages of a book.
Hans nodded impassively as he sat at his office, writing on something with a quill pen. “You have me intrigued, I have to say. Putting your ‘kin’ aside, your whole existence is odd to me.”
The therian raised an eyebrow at him and closed the book. “How so?”
“Hm, in simple terms…” The boy hummed and put his pen down. He looked over his shoulder, his glasses reflecting the light coming from the window. “You are impossible.”
“…I’m not sure I understand what you’re implying.”
“How about this, then? Take your uncle as a parallel. What is he? A monstrous creature. His power and intellect are essentially high above any other divine entity imaginable. No one alive would be capable of confidently saying that they can match him. However, what about his existence itself? Is it possible for such a law-breaking being to exist?”
Rakna narrowed his eyes. “To me, it is possible. Anyone who knows the old man personally could tell you that even if you don’t believe in it, he will make you do so instantly.”
“Correct. Overwhelming factual coercion. You, on the other hand, do not make sense. You possess talent beyond understanding and unfathomable luck. You are as if a child of fate,” Hans expressed and turned back to his desk. Picking his pen back up, he continued, “Your achievements are rather unbelievable. Your life itself is still alight despite its negative causality. Your karma is hollow and your soul a wounded beast. As I say, you are not possible. You should not exist.”
“…how would you know all of that?” Rakna retorted with an even tone and Hans gently closed the ancient-looking book he was taking notes from, taking off his glasses at the same time.
He sighed and stood up, facing the therian who towered him. But none of them even consciously acknowledged how they had to look up and down at one another.
“You are an open book. Your text is merely muddy. That is why I cannot read it. If I could not know at least this much, it would be ridiculous of me,” he scoffed and put his hand on the old book. “On that note, my thanks for bringing this to me. Both to you and the Exalted Quill in your soul. I will return downstairs and see if your pet has not eaten my whole pantry yet,” he said and headed to the ground floor. “If you wish to follow and continue this discussion, be my guest.”
Rakna silently watched the boy walk out of the room and when he was left alone in the dimly lit office, his mind rewound the whole conversation, word by word. Ultimately, he didn’t know for certain why, but he recalled a memory from years ago; when he woke up after having been thrown into the Eion Blood.
* * *
The first thing he had heard was the bleeps of a machine. He slowly and gradually recovered his senses and the feeling in his limbs. His mind, however, was heavy. Before, he had been filled with animosity for everything and anything. Now, he felt shackled and numb.
“Awake, kid?” He heard the coarse voice of the old man and opened his eyes. He viewed the ceiling and recognized it as the warehouse Arimane used for most of his vehicles and weapons. He turned his head a bit and saw the elder man walking toward him. He pulled up a chair and sat down near his bed. “So? How do you feel?”
“…tired,” he replied with an empty tone of voice he didn’t even know he could produce.
“Tired, huh?” The old man snorted and crossed his arms. “You remember what happened?”
Rakna blinked at the question before nodding. The research facility, the bio-weapon, the cisterns of blood, the animals’ voices raging in his head, and the people he killed. He remembered it all and it didn’t even make him flinch.
“I do,” he said indifferently. He wasn’t even resentful.
“…interesting,” Arimane muttered and mused. “I suppose it’s to be expected. No way your brain wasn’t messed up in some way after that. You fell into that blood, didn’t you?”
“…”
“I’ll take that as a yes. For your information, that thing was an extra-sensorial antitoxin filled with Eion and the lingering neural signals of dead animals; a freaky serum. You swallowed it, had direct contact with every inch of your body, and had some through your wounds. In a way, the intended purpose of the serum was successful. Your every muscle’s nerves suddenly began using Eion as a power source to break your limits. You became a little superhuman for a short while. Isn’t that exciting?” He quipped with a grin.
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“Of course, the Eion eventually ran out but the serum itself merged with your metabolism. I’m not sure what it can do now, but if I had to guess, it probably just got diluted and will eventually fizzle out entirely without a trace,” he added and paused for a moment. He stared at the abnormally cold expression of the boy and scowled. “For the past week, you’ve been brain-dead.”
Rakna’s eyes widened a bit at that.
“And I mean that fully. Technically, you were dead. The freaky thing though is that your body was working all fine. It wasn’t receiving any sort of command from the top,” the old man put his index finger to his head. “But your heart was beating; your blood pumping and your organs working. So, honestly, I only have one question for you, kid. How the fuck are you still alive?”
His solemn words felt like a tremor in the silent warehouse. Rakna was frozen on the bed and the silence stretched on for an entire minute until Arimane breathed out.
“Well, I didn’t expect you to have an answer to that,” he admitted and let out a snicker. “To be fair, you remind me of me. I also went through something similar. It was much weirder though. It was a situation where I should’ve died without question; blown to bits. But I woke up unharmed with the wreckage burning around me.”
Rakna looked at the old man with a strange look. “…how?”
“As I said, kid, I have no fucking idea,” he shrugged. “But something tells me that both you and I will get our answers someday. And it will probably be significant. Best to get on with life until it comes to you,” he said and stood up. “Now, get up. I don’t care if you’re tired; your body’s fine. We need to find out what side effects you were left with…”
* * *
Rakna opened his eyes back from his reminiscence and rubbed his eyes. “Confusing shit…”
“{Is something wrong?}” Fray asked.
“No… anyway, was that diary all you wanted to pass on to your successor?”
“{It is no mere diary; it was already passed down from even before my time. A Spell is written on it; a Tale to be exact. However, it is incomplete. Even I was unable to finish it. Perhaps I could have if I had grown the right way as an author. But as you know, I got embroidered into a… war. I lost a core part of myself.}”
“And you think that guy can? He doesn’t feel that different from a soldier fresh out the battlefield. Just being near him makes my nose flare. He reeks of hatred,” Rakna uttered.
“{You think?}” Fray said smilingly. “{I would not be so quick to judge. Hatred is a weapon; haven’t you learned that yourself over the years? In my opinion, he did that to himself. He grew that much enmity within himself on purpose.}”
“Why would he?”
“{A great weapon; a great tool. The stronger, the harder to control. In all likelihood, more than his intrinsic view of the world, he reigned in his hatred to pour it into his stories. The Foolish Hero that you described just earlier; haven’t you noticed? It is filled with hatred as well.}”
“…”
“{It is not as forthright as one would expect, of course. The protagonist has no sense of self with a drive to seek an unattainable ideal through repeated and brutal treachery. Can you imagine? The determination… no, the sheer hatred directed at a world where an ideal cannot be achieved. He loathes everything because everything is a cog running against the freedom of life; even the latter itself. That is the boy’s real strength. He is free from the concept of acceptance.}”
“Is that so?” Rakna grunted. “Aah… and what about the reward?”
“{…huh? Sorry, what?}”
“Your Quest. The one you gave me to find Hans. It said the rewards were Unknown. What is that about now that I’ve completed it?”
“{…}” The fable writer began to sweat within the soul realm. “{Um… you see… strictly speaking, that Quest was a product of Tale Magic. The rewards are not decided by me per se. The conclusion has been reached so, perhaps, eventually… you will get something?}”
“Perhaps?” The therian scowled.
“{…yes,}” Fray answered meekly. “{B-but it is not as if you received nothing! You have unlimited access to my library, after all.}”
“Fray.”
“{Yes…?}”
“I don’t care.”
“{…I’m sorry.}”
* * *
“What is all that?” Rakna asked as everyone was gathered in Hans’ living room, inspecting a few items on the floor; there were three to be exact, aside from a bunch of Talys. A Spell Card, a Skill Card, and some sort of large dried tentacle. One of them even seemed to be of Red Rarity.
“The little guy killed a Wild Boss apparently,” Higure explained. “These are the drops. Pronos had some of his snake familiars fetch them when he remembered about it.”
“A Wild Boss?” The therian blinked in surprise and checked his pet’s level; his level had increased by more than 10 in one go. “How high was that Boss’ level…?”
“It was a Mid Second-Ascent Kraken,” Hans informed as he entered the room. Everyone promptly focused on him as he conjured a thin book in his hand. He tossed it on the small table in the middle of the room. “Take a look if you wish. The whole battle is recorded in it.”
“Mid Second-Ascent, huh?” Higure hummed as she reached for the book first.
“That’s at least level 250,” Natsu stated. “Very impressive for a Host’s pet to fight across levels to that extent. I have seen a few in the past come to my Plateau but none of them can compare.”
“Wow, an avatar of life?” Astraea abruptly exclaimed as she peeked over the lioness’ shoulder at the book. “Lord Monarch!” She shouted excitedly. “Your pet used a spell capable of emulating your power to near exactness. It’s incredible! He created life force out of a mental image.”
“His Path Skill, right?” Rakna nodded. “I had seen it, but I didn’t know what it could do. So, that’s why my energy can be felt some distance away then.”
“The Road of Eternity,” Hans remarked calmly. “The First Cycle is Life; Breath of Birth. The Second Cycle is Death; Caress of Loss. The Third Cycle is Rebirth; Mask of Immortality. Together, they are what constitutes Ouroboros’ Infinity.”
“You know a lot,” Nyx commented suspiciously.
The boy’s hateful gaze shifted toward her. “Open books... Like you, Girl of Elysium, Hope of Tiamat, and Agent of Eternal Light,” he uttered, startling her. “Hm, however, much like Xiorra’s fate, the motive behind your selection as Eternal Maiden is unreadable. The details of Tiamat’s intentions are blurry as well.”
“Would you like me to continue?” Hans sharpened his eyes. “A young girl among Gods and a fear of inadequacy hidden in the night,” he declared and switched to Flavia.
“A witch lost in self-doubt and emptiness filled by the wolf,” he paused. “…and a second witch, in a cage of dragons, white as snow, who regrets.”
“A vampire who honors blood, who knows his limits, and embraces them.”
“An estranged lioness who discovered devotion with timeworn sorrow united in strength.”
“A revengeful ghost, held in innocence and passion, seeking resolution anxiously.”
“A sad and lonely creature, locked, deprived of purpose, granted liberation and happiness.”
“A proud mystical flame, in peace with himself, gratified in his servitude.”
“An impeccable envoy of light, born from everything and nothing, grateful for her chance.”
“A fragile skin shed in the past, a wise snake whose master it chose in faith.”
“A… hm,” Hans was forced to stop for a second when his eyes landed on Tyran. “A brave and silly one saved from the dead,” he ended his terrifying assessment and turned toward Rakna, everyone still reeling in shock from how fast and easily their inner selves had been picked apart.
“And you,” the boy waved his hand at the expressionless therian. “You already know it. A hollow heart beating with zeal, a denial of the gift of life under the stars, and an imperfect beast. I wonder where it is... that your fate is leading you to perish.”