Now, I’d gotten used to the crazy bullshit of my current world. Ascendants do weird nonsense, and I’d accepted it. But even for me, this was extremely odd. I just stared at the representation of my dad, red skin, horns and all, sitting in a chair and looking at me apathetically.
“What do you mean it took me long enough?” I demanded. “What took me long enough? And where the hell are we? I can’t be sitting around chatting while I’m about to get murdered.”
“Your soul,” he said lazily. “Or part of it anyway. The exact construction of the soul is a bit complicated and not something you need to worry about at this point. And this is where you’ll condense your Chronicle. Eventually. We’ll get to that. And don’t worry about the outside world. Think of this as a time out.”
That, at least, was a relief. Knowing I wasn’t about to get butchered while I sat here and listened to my dad condescend, I sighed, then looked around. There was nothing, obviously. But there was a chair. Him being here might be some crazy bullshit, but the chair didn’t seem like something he would bring. I decided to see if I could do something similar. More specifically, to see if I could make one with some kind of technique. This WAS my soul.
I focused on the air next to me, imagining the chair. I created a backstory, constructed a mental image, and just generally fleshed out the concept of the chair like I would a technique, and then…nothing. I had no base to use it from.
From that perspective, I could probably manage something. I focused on Agares, and before my eyes, a cloud of ash manifested, condensing into a surprisingly cushy black chair.
I dropped down onto it, enjoying the comfort and turned to look at my dad, who for the first time in my memory was smiling at me. “See, that’s why I think this is going to work,” he said with a chuckle.
“What’s going to work?” I asked again. “Now that we have time, I’d like an explanation of how you even got here. This feels a lot like the kind of interference you said you wouldn’t engage in.”
He shook his head, sighing. “To understand what’s happening, you’ll have to understand quite a few other things. Namely the reason I decided to become a devil in the first place. Do you remember one of the first lessons I taught you as a child? The elements of a contract?”
“Of course. Offer, Acceptance, Awareness, Consideration, Capacity, and Legality,” I recited from memory. “Why?”
“Well, those elements are the basis of the Wish power. Offer and Acceptance you get, I’m sure, because the Skill announces them. Consideration is obvious, that’s just the payment you receive, Capacity is addressed directly, and Legality is the restrictions of the laws binding the Skill itself. They’re exceptionally complicated and detailed, they have to be in order to make it function."
I’d never seen him so animated talking about anything, but his eyes burned with intensity as he talked. “Being a devil, however, allowed me to create an altered version of that capability. Devils are known to be sneaky tricksters, dedicated to the letter and not the spirit of their agreements, and this implicit understanding allows me to flout one of the contractual elements. In your case, Awareness.”
I blinked. It took me a minute to sort through it. I put together a hundred different tidbits of information. The way my power was delivered in a scroll instead of unlocked naturally, the way my mother claimed to have sold it for her second power which had always seemed shaky to me.
“So…” I said, feeling things out. “Mom didn’t sell you my first eighteen years of powers. I did? Just without knowing because you took some random thing I did as consent like you did to that guy you were fighting last time I saw you. And this is…what? Payment? Because I imagine you would need to pay a lot for eighteen years of Wish.”
He beamed. “Now you’re getting it. When I found out your mother had to leave to protect Chelsea, I was devastated. But when you developed the family power, it was pretty much inevitable we’d all be separated anyway. Candidacy is hard to turn down. You know how the family is about their cuckoo bird nonsense. But I also knew you had no chance of winning. And if you were going to reunite us all, like you’re doing now, you needed something really special.”
“You can’t honestly tell me you expected all this?” I asked incredulously. “You’re scary, but you’re not THAT scary. Predicting this whole thing would be impossible.”
He waved his hand. “Oh I didn’t. This moment was always going to happen. When you formed your Chronicle, this fragment of me that was left in the scroll that gave you back your powers was always going to be here to explain, but most of this has been well outside my calculations. Granted, I couldn’t have possibly planned it better, but the only real prerequisite was that this needed to happen after you hit D-rank, when outside interference wouldn’t matter.”
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
“Ok, so…what’s the point?” I sighed. “Why bother with all this? Is there some way for you to help me condense my Chronicle?”
“Do you know how the Wishmaster made his Skill?” he asked me, seemingly as a complete non sequitur.
I shrugged. “He was a genius. Master of Skill construction and able to learn Skills absurdly quickly. He combined them all into the massively powerful meta ability that is Wish, which he passed down at S-rank, like any other bloodline.”
“All of that is true,” he admitted. “But his most powerful tool for doing that was a technique. An absurdly powerful technique. More of a pseudo Domain really. He calls it the Great Book Heavenly Library. It’s an internal manifestation inside the soul. A library where every skill and technique is recorded in book form for him to peruse at his leisure. It lets him alter his Skills and techniques more easily. He told me about it in passing when I was younger. The requirements for technique talent are absurdly high, since it’s a pseudo Domain and being able to form any sort of Domain before you have a Saga to act as a foundation is vanishingly rare.
“But you can do that,” he said. “Your talent for techniques is monstrous. Nearly unmatched in anyone I’ve ever met. What most people need to struggle and scrape to do, you do as easy as breathing. Did you ever wonder why?”
“You’re saying it’s because of you?” I asked, almost annoyed he was taking credit for my natural talent. “That was the payment for my eighteen years of sealed power?”
“Oh you always had a bit of talent,” he assured me. “I needed something to build off of. I think it’s some kind of soul physique, but honestly I’m not well versed in those kinds of things. Regardless, it gave you the tools needed for this exact moment. When you condense your Chronicle, you can condense the library around it. You know that you can use it as a foundation for your pseudo Domains, like you’ve been doing with your mask. It’ll work like that.”
I stared at him, conflicted on what to think. “You know this doesn’t fix things with us, right? If you’re trying to say that the way you treated me my whole life was some sort of diversion so that I could grow enough for this…”
“Some of it,” he admitted. “I won’t pretend this has all been some grand plan and that I’m secretly a great father. I abandoned you. I felt it was the best way, but I still did it. This isn’t an apology, it’s payment for the years I took. Because the inheritance competition is coming, and you won’t have a chance if you don’t get stronger. Much stronger. This will help. Even the Old Man didn’t condense his Library this early. His talent for techniques was never as good as it was for Skills. He was into the A-ranks when he finally perfected it.”
“And you expect me to manage it now?” I demanded. “Is all this talent you gave me really enough to outdo the WISHMASTER? He’s a GOD!”
He shrugged. “He wasn’t back then. Just a man with a knack for Skill creation. I’ve been collecting information for years, finding every scrap of mention of the Great Book Heavenly Library. Wishes, deals, trading.” He held up the book he’d been reading when I arrived. “And all of it is in here.” He tossed it to me. “Whatever you decide, I can’t help more than this. Chronicle condensation isn’t something even I can really muck about with. I can only give you the tools.”
I stared down at the book, the worn leather cover seeming almost familiar despite never having seen it before. “So that’s it. You show up, pass me a book full of bullshit, and now you’re what? Leaving again? And I can’t even punch you this time.”
He chuckled. “Maybe the next time we meet. I’m not even really here Shane. This was a dormant fragment of my soul that I inserted into the scroll through the power of the contract. Only a small one, mind you. Once this ends it’ll disperse and return to me. I just felt I owed you an explanation. Talent and information, the terms of the contract I made with you as a baby, fulfilled at last.”
I thought about all the things I’d been through. About all the close calls, about the ways my life had been warped and twisted by his influence. And then I thought about the way my techniques had saved me. Had formed the foundation of who I was now as an Ascendant. My forms, my domains, all of it had helped get me where I was. Meet my wife, protect my friends, survive my trials.
He hadn’t been there for me the way he should’ve…but he’d been in a different way. It didn’t fix things between us, but it helped. Made me feel less alone. And when I finally got the chance to punch him properly, I might not put as much of my back into it.
“Alright. How long do I have in this time out? Was this something you did or is it natural?” I asked as I put the book under my arm.
“Bit of both,” he said with a shrug. “Chronicle condensation can get a little weird. It’s a flexible process because of the nature of Ascendants and how varied they can get. Pushing yours to form this space was my last little bit of outside help. I thought having an obvious void to use as your starting point might help. The time dilation was really just a happy accident. Should last as long as you need it, though once you leave it’ll end, so make sure you’re ready.”
I paused for a minute, weighing my words, then finally said, “Thank you.”
He didn’t answer, just shrugged, vanishing along with his chair. Then it was just me, my own chair, and the book in my hand. Flipping it open, I quickly recognized my dad’s spidery handwriting, densely packed into the pages. Page after page of random notes he’d gotten his hands on about the Great Book Heavenly Library. A thousand casual mentions and offhand remarks from people who had heard about it from a friend of a friend.
Sighing, I settled in to read. Once I finished the book I’d begin the process for myself. Deep down I was excited about how this might work, about what I could do with it. I didn’t have my ancestor’s talent with Skills, but with this, I could perfect my techniques, my forms, and all my subskills. Create a real foundation for my future Domain. My abstract goal of becoming the strongest god by only forming a three part Domain might actually be feasible. I got to work.