Chapter 23: Art and Beauty

Over what felt like days in the white void, Cal and Beron spoke at length, both sharing stories of their lives, knowledge, and struggles. Cal opened up in a way he hadn’t since arriving in this new world, and for the first time, he had someone who could truly listen. He laid everything bare—his experiences, his abilities, and the strange events that had shaped him since he swallowed that small red gem and gained his core.

Beron listened closely as Cal explained the stone hands that had extended from the wall where he first arrived, holding the red gem that would become the center of his new, twisted life. He described the leak in his core, his ability to consume essence, and the strange process of creating and combining new abilities. Cal talked of the essence sense that allowed him to feel energy around him and of Mistress—the sinister presence that influenced him, her hunger always threatening to overwhelm him.

But Cal didn’t stop there. He told Beron about his past before all of this, before the dark times. He spoke of his deadbeat father and the harsh mother who’d forced him to grow up too soon. He described the moment when he was exiled from his family, his heart heavy with guilt and regret. But above all, Cal talked about his sister, Abby, the one person who had always believed in him, the one who had stood by him even after the rest of the world turned its back. He talked of her graduation, the pride he’d felt watching her succeed while he stumbled. And he told Beron about the night he was stolen from his world, although those memories were still blurry, fractured.

Beron listened intently, offering no judgment, only understanding. And then, when Cal had shared everything, it was Beron’s turn to speak.

"Monsters have cores," Beron began, his voice calm and matter-of-fact. "They can be born naturally, but more often than not, they manifest from an abundance of essence in a specific area. That essence coalesces into a core, and a monster is created to fit the type of essence and the core's structure. But you..." He paused, studying Cal for a moment. "You swallowed a core. That's not something I thought was possible, but you did it."

Cal nodded, his face grim as Beron continued. "It sounds like you were summoned or something along those lines. I don’t know what that gem you ate was, but it forged a core inside you. Then, somehow, you broke it. Monsters can intuitively use their essence without thinking about it too much, but you… you didn’t get that advantage. You pushed yourself too hard, and now your core is leaking. I don’t know what that means exactly, but it sounds like something very wrong is happening inside of you."

Cal frowned, remembering the times when the leak had affected his abilities or left him weak.

Beron went on, his voice serious. "From what you've told me, the way you push essence through your body is similar to using an Art technique, but it’s not the same thing. An Art requires focus, discipline, and control. You need to work at it, train your mind and body. You can’t just rely on your core or essence sense to carry you through. And speaking of essence, the fact that you strip aspects when you consume it... that’s strange. It might make attuning you to a particular aspect more difficult if you even want to try that. But we’ll cover that when we get there."

He paused, scratching his beard as he thought about Cal’s abilities. "As for those abilities you’ve been developing—combining them, using them automatically—I’ve never heard of anything like that. Maybe it’s an imprint left by the memories of the things you consume. Or maybe it’s something unique to you. I’m not an expert in that area. But what I do know is that an Art is not automatic. It’s hard work. It’s discipline. There’s no easy activation. It requires dedication, focus, and constant refinement."

Cal nodded, absorbing Beron’s words. Everything Beron said made sense, but it also revealed how little Cal truly understood about what was happening to him. He had power, but it was wild, unrefined. He had potential, but no clear path forward.

"I'll help you," Beron continued, his tone softening. "I’ll teach you what I know about protecting your soul. But you have to be willing to put in the effort. There’s no shortcut here, Cal. You need to learn discipline if you want to keep Mistress at bay and control the power inside you."

Cal met Beron’s gaze, determination flickering in his eyes. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Beron smiled, a small but genuine smile. “Good. Then let’s get to work.”

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Time became a blur. Hours bled into days, and days into an indeterminate stretch of silent contemplation. There was nothing but the quiet, the stillness, and the endless process of delving into the deepest recesses of Cal's soul. Beron had made it clear that before establishing an Art—before truly mastering the discipline of the soul—Cal had to come into contact with its shape.

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Beron had explained that the core space Cal had known was not truly his soul, but rather a reflection of the power given to him. "A soul," Beron had said, "is one's own. Nothing else should have power over it but you. There shouldn’t be monsters in the dark. No Mistress. No core. Just you. Unrefined, pure. Your essence in its rawest form."

So they meditated. Cal found it difficult at first. He wasn’t used to confronting himself in such a stark and vulnerable way. His mind would drift, distractions pulling him away. Thoughts of the battles, the violence, and the hunger of his core gnawed at him. But Beron was patient. He told Cal to sit with those thoughts, to let them come, to face them head-on rather than running from them.

The first days were filled with frustration. Every time Cal closed his eyes, the vivid memory of Beron’s friends—Jora, Fael, and Tain—came rushing to the forefront. He could see their faces, feel the weight of his actions, the brutal finality of their deaths. The consuming guilt was overwhelming at times, and he’d often feel like he was being swallowed whole by his emotions. But Beron guided him through it, insisting that Cal had to work through these experiences, not hide from them.

Each memory was a wound, raw and painful, but necessary. He started with the most recent—Beron’s death. Cal had felt a monstrous greed in that moment, a hunger that had driven him to consume the soul of someone who, in truth, was trying to protect others. The guilt wrapped around him like a heavy chain, but Beron kept reminding him: "It's not about whether you were right or wrong. It's about understanding yourself."

So Cal dove into it. He relived every moment, every strike of the sword, every flash of essence that burst from his body as he fought. He remembered the sharpness of his thoughts during the battle, driven by the singular goal of victory, but now tainted with the realization of what he had become in those moments. He dissected the way he’d felt when Beron’s friends died—each death a stain on his conscience.

The guilt was overwhelming at times, but it was necessary. He picked apart each instant, unraveling the hatred he felt toward himself, the disgust at his monstrous hunger, and the terrifying realization that, in those moments, he had craved the consumption of their souls more than anything else. He studied each feeling, stretched them, examined the truth behind his actions, and came to a deeper understanding of who he had become.

Through days of meditation, Cal began to understand something crucial. He wasn’t just a monster. He was more. His greed, his hunger—those were parts of him, yes, but they didn’t define him. They were elements he had to reconcile with, to understand, to fold into the larger picture of who he was becoming.

It was grueling work. The self-reflection, the tearing open of old wounds, the acknowledgment of his flaws—it all left him emotionally raw, but as the days passed, Cal found it getting easier. He grew better at quieting the storm of emotions, at holding onto his focus, and at facing the parts of himself he had once tried to bury.

Beron watched him carefully, guiding him when necessary but allowing Cal to discover the truth on his own. This was a journey Cal had to make alone, Beron had told him. It wasn’t about mastering an Art or honing his abilities. Not yet. This was about mastering himself, about coming to terms with the shape of his own soul.

And slowly, Cal began to feel it.

The shape of his soul.

It wasn’t expansive, nor was it a vast, open space. Instead, it was confined, a tiny dot nestled deep within the recesses of his mind. As he reflected on it, Cal realized it was small and unfinished, a stark contrast to the boundless void he had imagined. He understood now that he wasn’t merely a monstrous entity. He was something more complex, a blend of darkness and light, of past and present.

In the past, Cal had lived a life of comfort and stability, though he had never truly been at peace. His existence had been one of sediment, of layers slowly accumulating over time. Here, in this space, amidst the pain and the strange new existence he had embraced, he found an odd form of solace. He had reveled in the power and the transformation, despite the cost. This part of him, the hunger, was not solely the Mistress’s influence—it was also a part of who he had become. His soul had twisted and evolved, shaped by the experiences and choices he had made.

At Beron's encouragement, Cal reached inward, immersing himself fully in the essence of his own soul. It was an act of profound self-discovery, stepping beyond the surface and delving into the heart of his being.

The transition was striking.

He found himself on a craggy, grey rock floating through an immense, dark expanse. The surrounding space was dotted with twinkling stars and swirling nebulas, painting a breathtaking tapestry of creation and color across the horizon. The asteroid on which he stood was part of a colossal ring of thousands, encircling a massive black hole—an embodiment of destruction and the inevitable end.

In this serene yet awe-inspiring setting, Cal felt a profound connection to every element of the space around him. The stars and galaxies represented his will to live, his aspirations, and his newfound fascination with magic and creation. The asteroid belt symbolized his grounding, his memories, his thoughts, and the essence of his being. The rocks were the foundation that held him to reality, capturing both the good and the bad, the hope and the despair. The black hole was his hunger, his greed, and the asteroids circled it, always close but never being consumed by the monstrous hole in reality.

The beauty of the scene was both comforting and humbling. Despite the immense black hole in the distance, threatening to devour everything, Cal felt a sense of peace. It was as if the cosmos itself mirrored his internal struggle, a reminder of the vast expanse of possibilities and the inherent chaos of existence. This space was a reflection of his soul, complex and multifaceted, a blend of creation and destruction.

As he stood there, absorbing the grandeur of his inner world, he realized that this was his true self. The essence of his being was intertwined with the universe’s vastness, a microcosm of the larger cosmos. His past, his struggles, and his newfound abilities were all part of this intricate and ever-evolving landscape. This understanding was liberating. Cal knew he was not merely a monster or a victim of circumstances. He was a being of profound complexity, shaped by his experiences but not defined by them. His journey was far from over, but now he had a clearer vision of who he was and who he could become.

Cal’s gaze lingered on the vast cosmic panorama before him. The black hole loomed, an omnipresent symbol of his darker impulses and potential for destruction, while the surrounding expanse of stars and nebulas reflected the infinite possibilities within him.

Beron’s voice echoed softly, yet it felt profoundly close, a guiding presence amidst the enormity of Cal’s inner space.

“How is it?” Beron’s tone was curious, almost gentle.

“It’s stunning,” Cal replied, his voice reverberating in the expansive void. “And... terrifying.”

“Then you have found it,” Beron’s voice carried a note of approval. “Your soul space. Now, sit there for as long as you wish. When you return to me, we will move forward.”

Cal took a deep breath, feeling the cool, refreshing air of the cosmic space around him. He turned his gaze back to the boundless expanse, the delicate balance between creation and destruction.

“I think I’ll stay a little while longer,” Cal said softly. “It feels like home.”