As soon as those words left Norn’s mouth, Dia found herself sinking into those memories again. This time, however, the focus was on what happened before the battle, and she found herself staring down at those inhuman eyes against. Once again, she found her heart stilling at those cold eyes — they looked entirely devoid of any will.

They didn’t seem to register the loss of his arm…at all. Blood fell exactly in the same way as Dia remembered it, but the man showed no interest in stemming his injuries.

“Keep at it,” a voice echoed in her mind, and in that instant, the entire memory froze up. At the same time, a faint white fog had appeared at the edge of her vision, obscuring part of her sight. “Focus. If I intervene too much, or if your mind rejects me, this skill would stop working.”

“Isn’t this skill for interrogation?” Dia asked out loud. The moment Norn had spoken, the entire memory had frozen up. This was probably some really incredible skill…either that, or she had mastered her skill to an incredible extent.

“It is, but it’s to prove one’s innocence. Failure to cooperate with me when I use this skill can be treated as an admission of guilt,” Norn’s voice echoed out. “In which case, I use a more…destructive skill.”

The feeling of having dodged an arrow assailed Dia at those words. It would seem that if she hadn’t agreed to cooperate this easily, something bad would have happened. Norn would probably have used a more…’destructive skill’, as she had put it.

“Alright, we’ll resume the memory.” Norn’s voice was strained. “I won’t be able to intervene for a second time without ending the skill shortly afterwards, so this will be the last time we speak in here. Take your time with the observation; your body will move in the same way you remembered it too, so don’t worry about the fight.”

Dia nodded.

“Three, two, one…”

The battle played out as she remembered it, but Dia’s focus was entirely on the enemy himself. She hadn’t had the time to examine the murderer in detail back then, but her eyes had taken in the details unconsciously.

There was nothing much to look at, in the end. From start to finish, the man had been emotionless — an inhuman fixation to get rid of the person who stood before him. Even as her body moved on its own to dodge the incoming spears, Dia could not spot any hint of independent thought in those eyes of his.

Right until he slumped over.

The white fog at the edge of her vision bloomed rapidly, and she woke up in the real world again. Norn, who was sitting on the opposite side of the table, had a disturbed expression on her face — she looked as shaken as Dia felt.

“That’s…scary,” Norn murmured. “But it fits your testimony fully. Thank you for your cooperation, Dia.”

She fell silent, which was the cue for her party members to whip out a bunch of small implements. Before long, a minty fragrance wafted into the air, and Dia found herself gulping. The tea they were preparing was far better than the low-quality stuff Dia and Risti had been drinking earlier.

The woes of being poor, if nothing else.

Fortunately, Hein and Skald had the sense to pour out some cups for Risti and Dia, and the chilly sensation in her veins began to recede. Simply reliving the past had made her fearful.

It wasn’t the murderer himself that made her scared. No, those inhuman eyes were the things that had frightened her. No one should be allowed to have such a set of cold, freezing eyes. Just what had happened? Was a skill truly able to deprive someone of their own free will?

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Should a skill like that exist?

As Dia took in the implications of such a power in full, she found herself worrying for everyone she ever cared about. Skills usually didn’t need any in the way of preparation — a single thought was enough to use them. For Dia, this was the worst-case scenario.

A single thought would be able to wipe out the minds of anyone she cared about.

The tea swirling in her mouth lost all taste.

“It’s alright,” a voice, filled with gentleness, spoke.

“I know,” Dia replied. Her words shook slightly. “I can’t just surrender to my fear here. The mastermind doesn’t even care about me. It’ll be pathetic if I lost my nerve after solving this incident.”

She took another sip of tea.

It wasn’t as tasteless as the mouthful earlier, at least. After taking a few more sips, she looked up at Norn. “So, was my memory useful? I hope it is. Reliving that is bad for my mental state — it had better serve a good purpose.”

“It is,” Norn replied. Her face was troubled. “This skill is a major problem. Not just because of its effects, but also because of its name.”

She took out a piece of paper. “It’s a legend that predates the Third Godsfall. Every millennium, a person of destiny would appear; he or she would possess an absolute skill. The name of such a skill would only be known to the user…but when represented on the status, it would take a form like this.”

She pointed at three letters. “‘B-O-D’. It stands for ‘Bearer of Destiny. If we are to interpret the entire skill, it would say ‘Third Bearer of Destiny: Awakened’.”

Dia repeated those words thoughtfully. “It doesn’t exactly tell us what it does, though.”

“No need for that. These skills are part of the ‘Absolute’ series,” Norn replied. “Unbreakable in application. Omnipotent within their domain. If I had to warrant a guess as to what this skill is called, it would either be ‘Absolute Domination’ or ‘Absolute Control’.”

“Absolute…” Risti echoed those words. “It’s…like a skill that shouldn’t exist. Things that are absolute don’t belong in this world.”

“They don’t,” Norn replied, before pointing upwards. “They belong in that world. The Coloured Gods, before their apotheosis, had these skills too. Sixty Bearers of Destiny went up against the Six Gods of Virtue, and only nine remained to reap the rewards.”

Those words seemed to trigger something.

Without warning, red hammers slammed into the inwards of her skull. An overwhelming pain had her in its grip, and it was all Dia could do to not slide out of her seat and drop onto all fours. The others, save for Norn, were reacting the same way, and as she took in that sight, the pain burned even brighter.

The pain burned for minutes. Or did it burn for hours? Dia didn’t quite know — all she had on her mind was the searing pain that had enveloped her entire being. It hurt to think, but those words continued to slam into her skull over and over.

An eternity, contained in a single moment.

After an indeterminable amount of time passed, the blazing, burning pain eventually died away. Blood, sweat and saliva pooled together underneath her body, and her clothes were dripping with sweat when Dia finally found the strength to sit up. Risti looked as bad as Dia felt, but Norn’s party members only had a pale face.

“What…” Dia’s voice cracked, and she lost the ability to speak.

“The authority of the Coloured Gods,” Norn replied. “Don’t worry. Mana-users are granted a derivation of divinity, which is why everyone here survived a revelation. It’s just that the process might be a bit painful.”

“Not that bad,” said Hein, “although I wonder why you didn’t tell us about this earlier, milady.”

“It was a good time to do a comparison,” Norn replied. “An experiment on the part of the Association. Could revelations be used as a weapon? If so, we could use them on hostiles…and we’ll need to insulate our people against those revelations either.”

“Somehow,” said Skald, “I feel that doing that might just anger the Coloured Gods.”

“We’ll have to see it for ourselves,” Norn replied indifferently. “It is a potent weapon. And there are other tests to be run too. How many secrets of the Coloured Gods can a person speak out before they are killed? How are such secrets defined in the first place?”

“Why,” said Dia, “are you saying all these secret things in my presence?”

“Hmm? Well, you’re with Risti. Therefore, you’re also considered a top echelon member…by association and a few times removed,” Norn replied. “The same goes for the organisation called the Moon Lords, although I must gauge their worth by myself before I reveal such sensitive information.”

“You’re planning on making use of us…”

“We’ll reward you guys richly, so don’t worry. Besides, have you not wondered how Count Nightfall was able to maintain his rule despite being such an…eccentric?” Norn chuckled. “Or why Risti chose to go to the Istrel Dukedom?”

“Wait, don’t tell me—”

“Give the bodyguard a brownie, she got it.”

“The whole setup was the Association’s doing?” Dia asked, just to check her guess.

“Uh-huh.”

Dia narrowed her eyes. “In that case…did Ruler Umbra’s death have anything to do with the Association?”

The air froze at those words.