"How long do you plan to stay there?" Zanh Kiem queried as he poured tea into cups. The Maker had just emerged from his meditation a minute ago and had immediately proceeded to the tea table.
"I didn't want to intrude," I responded, exiting the Break and stepping onto the smooth stone of the Abode of Knowledge meditation platform.
"You wouldn't have intruded," the sensum shrugged back.
We clasped hands firmly. After spending a couple of days away from the Break, I was virtually depleted, yet nothing remotely interesting had occurred since my chat with Maya. Ketsu never made an appearance, but that didn't mean he wasn't tailing me. As soon as the scratch left by the shapeshifter's claw was healed, I rushed to the Abode right after classes ended.
"How was your journey? How is Rui?" I asked, settling down comfortably and accepting the steaming mug from my friend's hands.
"Rui is doing well; I'd even say she's good. Almost fully recuperated," the sensum nodded in response. "Did you like her gift?"
"I did, but I'm still unsure why I need it."
"That happens," the Maker dismissed casually. "The gifted don't always comprehend why they do certain things. Sometimes, they act on a whim. When the time is right, you'll understand."
"Really?" I couldn't conceal my skepticism.
"You don't believe my words?" Zanh Kiem's right eyebrow arched in surprise.
"I've lost the habit of talking to you," I said, shrugging. "So, how was the journey?"
"Let's just say that the departure of all the Creators from their usual duties, to put it mildly, triggered a tsunami of panic."
"But will the churches hold?"
"Of course," Zanh Kiem nodded, taking a sip of his tea. "However, things aren't as great as we'd like."
"Do tell."
"Everything is in disarray. If the leadership abandons their posts, well, accidents tend to occur. This all coincides with the changes in the World's energy structure. Yes, the imminent End of the World is still unknown, but ancient energy lines are breaking, and the flows of world prana are changing direction. Naturally, this doesn't go unnoticed."
"Panic?" I asked for clarification.
"Close to it, yes. Furthermore, about a week ago, the energy sphere experienced a significant shake-up. It made everything worse," Zanh Kiem explained, rubbing the bridge of his nose in a familiar gesture.
"Did that actually happen?"
"You wouldn't have noticed - even the Seers missed it. The scale was just too global."
"And what caused this shake-up?" I had a feeling he was omitting something, so I prodded further.
"I believe the Creators' actions led to this. They're definitely up to something; it's just that no one knows exactly what."
"You make it sound like it's a bad thing."
"I have a premonition," the Maker shrugged. "A premonition that whatever They did - didn't turn out well."
"Wow!" A hunch from a sensum of this rank was something worth paying attention to.
"What if I'm just imagining things?" With a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders, Zanh Kiem then did something unexpected: he pulled out his phone and set it down on the tea table. "At the very least, don't panic, please."
"Since you're asking nicely," I responded with a smile. "I won't."
"Oh!" The abbot of the Abode of Knowledge sighed wearily. "If everyone was as cooperative as you, my life would be significantly easier!"
After finishing his statement, he reached for a box next to the teapot and opened it. Inside was a rather ancient-looking scroll.
"What's that?" I asked, unable to hide my curiosity.
"It's a scroll that explains the Projection technique."
"Really?"
"I thought it would be beneficial for you to learn and apply it to Metatron. I brought it here from the central library for you."
"That sounds exciting!" I rubbed my hands together in anticipation.
"But let's save that for later!" Zanh Kiem poured more tea. "First, tell me about your recent experiences."
"Can you assist me in registering as a sensum?"
"I can, but why?" The abbot of the Abode of Knowledge questioned.
I had to tell him about my unpleasant encounter with Koenig von Raun and express my annoyance that the head of the university hospital seemed to have told everyone about my awakened Spark. While speaking, I noticed that Zanh Kiem was only half-listening. He was fidgeting with his phone, his mind seemingly miles away.
"Hey!" I had to clap my hands to snap him back to reality.
"Yes?" The sensum was startled.
"What's going on with you? You didn't even finish your tea, you left it to go cold."
"It's just... I have a bad feeling." After saying this, the Maker placed his phone on the tea table. As soon as he moved his hand away, the device vibrated softly. With a trembling finger, Zanh Kiem turned on the speaker.
"Trust your instincts, young Zanh Kiem." A voice, heavy with exhaustion, barely made it out of the speaker. Each word from the Creator sounded as if it had been uttered under duress. "We made a mistake again. This time, fatally so. The three of us old fools. We intervened. We rushed. We lost. And... Everything has accelerated exponentially. Maestro... You have a month to open the Door. After that... After that, it will be too late. Our time has come. Farewell."
The beeps of a disconnected call echoed like the countdown to doomsday.
A sudden pain ripped through my chest. Another wave followed, then another!
I staggered as if three bullets had hit my Spark, but I managed to stay on my feet. Zanh Kiem, however, was affected far worse. The Maker collapsed onto the stones and started convulsing. For a moment, I thought the sensum was having a heart attack. Rushing to my friend's aid, I tried to help. I rolled him onto his back and, removing Metatron's gloves, began performing chest compressions.
"One. Two. Three." On the fourth count, the Maker's chest rose on its own.
Before I had a chance to celebrate, a push came in my back, then in my shoulder. Five monks in orange kasayas circled their abbot, nudging me aside.
"We can handle this," said the assistant abbot, his face as pale as chalk. He was a Gifted Seer who had also taken a hit, and not a light one either - he could barely stand, but his voice held an edge of confidence.
"The abbot will survive." I heard the Seer's words, but found it hard to release my grip on my friend's hand. "You're in the way..."
His last point finally broke through my shock, and I let my hand slacken. Then, unexpectedly, Zanh Kiem jerked, grabbed my hand, and without opening his eyes, uttered, "Learn the Projection technique!"
His words were calm and confident, as if coming from a perfectly healthy person. But as soon as he stopped speaking, his consciousness slipped away again, and he sagged into the arms of the monks.
"Maestro," the Seer grasped my hand. "Please. We know what we're doing."
"Will he survive?" I asked, struggling with the question.
"He's had a massive heart attack. But the crisis has passed. Let us take care of him, don't interfere."
"Alright."
I stepped aside, sitting down on the parapet, silently watching as my unconscious friend was carried away.
"Our time has come" were the Creator's words, not specifying that "time is up" meant actual death.
The three Pillars of Power had left the world in an instant.
It was a monumental disturbance for the global energy sphere. All the Gifted felt this impact: the Feelers hardly noticed, the Contemplators were a bit more affected, like me, the Seers were hit much harder. But the most powerful - the Makers - bore the brunt of it.
Left alone on the meditation platform, I simply sat on the stones, unable to leave the Abode of Knowledge until I knew Zanh Kiem's condition. In any other circumstance, the fact that time until the End of the World had shrunk from two years to a mere month would have sent me into shock and stupor. But now, the threat of the Cataclysm seemed somehow distant and fantastical. The critical state of my friend, and my complete inability to help him, filled me with a quiet, restrained fury.
About thirty minutes later, without any updates, I realized I could no longer bear it; my nerves were strung tight like guitar strings. My initial urge was to leave my perch and inquire with the monks. The second was to shift into the Break and observe Zanh Kiem from this alternate dimension. However, the Seer had specifically asked me not to intervene, and aware that even the slightest disturbance could disrupt the flow of subtle energies, I didn't dare. I had been clearly told they could handle it and all I had to do was wait.
But oh, how hard it is to merely wait and not interfere!
My thoughts were a stampede in my head, and even my palms itched from the nervous tension. Standing up, I poured myself a cup of now lukewarm tea, nearly spilling half of it due to my trembling hands. I took a tentative sip and turned my attention to the open box housing the scroll. To distract myself, I took it out and unrolled it. On the aged parchment, written in neat, calligraphic Japanese, were the steps to master the "invisible projection technique". Izao was fluent in Japanese, but the scroll occasionally contained words that were ambiguous in meaning. However, after a couple of read-throughs, I grasped its intent.
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The technique allowed one to create a temporary energy replica of an object - the so-called invisible projection. According to the explanations, this exercise was primarily applied to amulets and items of personal significance. It was apparent that I would struggle to learn such an intricate technique on my own, even with this guide. And even if by some miracle I did succeed, it would take not just a day or two, not just a week, but longer than a month.
After reading the scroll again, I returned it to its box. If it weren't for Zanh Kiem's words, I wouldn't have considered learning such a complex pseudo-meditation on my own. What was written in the scroll was more akin to the teachings of the Dark Adepts I had come across, rather than the Maker's typical practices. It resembled sympathetic magic more than it did the techniques of the Light Gifted. However, the parchment bore the seal of Bodhidharma's Palm, which meant it was indeed endorsed by the Eastern equivalent of the Inquisition.
With the box containing the scroll in hand, I shifted to the Break. It didn't fall back onto the tea table but transitioned with me. That meant Zanh Kiem, when he acquired it, had already intended to give it to me; otherwise, it would have stayed in reality. This was a relief, as I wasn't confident that, despite reading it multiple times, I would remember the text and diagrams word for word.
Back in reality, I tidied up the table and, adopting the lotus position, I sank into a state of anticipation. Given the nervous tension I was under, it would have been pointless to try to learn anything. After all, I am far from being a Buddhist monk with the capacity to remain serene under all circumstances.
The sun had already set when the Gatekeeper of the Abode of Knowledge ascended the stone stairs to the platform. He was the second-highest ranking sensum in the monastery, holding the rank of Seer, and also served as the head gardener of the temple.
"Maestro," he greeted.
"Gatekeeper," I responded. His actual name was unknown to me.
"The Abbot's condition is stable. He is not in danger."
"Thank you. Is there any way I can help?"
"Yes, visit the abbot in about a week. He would be pleased, and it would do him good."
"Not sooner?" I asked for clarification.
"No, not sooner." The monk nodded and, turning on his heel, left the meditation area.
A wave of relief washed over me. Naturally, a week is a very long time. Almost a quarter of the time we have left, but the crucial thing... The crucial thing is that Zanh Kiem will live, and given his resilience, I am confident that he will fully recover in time.
If...
If he has enough time.
If we all do.
I picked up the box, transitioned to the Break, and left the Abode of Knowledge. There was no need to disturb the monks now that everything had been said. In a concealed cave, I changed my clothes and stashed the scroll with the technique. Then, with a careless disregard for everything else, I headed to my apartment, not the dorm room.
Once home, I collapsed onto the bed, switched on the TV for background noise, and stared blankly at the white ceiling. Emptiness consumed me; I had no desire to do or think about anything. I remained in that state for nearly a quarter of an hour until the news began.
In a world where psychics are commonplace, the upheaval of subtle energies due to the death of the Creators could not go unnoticed. However, no one divulged the truth; they attributed the most potent energy storm in a hundred years to the Break, according to the news anchor. Following this, a representative from the House on the Hill announced a day off for all the Gifted. A sensible move, in my opinion. I was even taken aback by this display of consideration from the authorities for their subjects. It seemed unusual to me, particularly considering my past life experiences.
A text notification chimed on my official phone just as the news broadcast ended. Given my recent streak of unfortunate updates, I hesitated before picking it up. To my relief, it was a message from the Count of Runar, informing me that he had personally granted me the next two days off. It seemed my decision not to return to the dormitory was, in a way, guided by intuition.
That night, sleep eluded me. First, I scrolled through the entirety of the BKDW forum, sticking to the public section, naturally. Then, with the aid of prana-sensitive paper, I attempted to "record" the first two exercises of the "projection" from memory. Regrettably, my inner turmoil prevented me from making even the slightest progress in this technique. I wasn't even able to achieve the initial step of calming and clearing my mind. I attempted to start sketching storyboards for the second part of the comic, but quickly abandoned this endeavor. As a result, I was left tossing and turning in bed until sleep finally claimed me around four in the morning.
I didn't rise with the sun, but rather closer to lunchtime. The combination of nervous tension and the preceding nearly sleepless night had taken its toll. Upon getting out of bed, my stomach grumbled in hunger, reminding me that I hadn't eaten since lunch the day before. The refrigerator was predictably barren. So, having dressed and armed with the sheets detailing the exercises, I ventured outside.
The moment I stepped into the open air, the heat nearly knocked me off my feet. The sun was almost directly overhead. Not a single cloud blemished the sky, and not a breath of wind stirred the still air. It was the type of calm that turns the streets of Wilflaes into a veritable sauna. After trudging a few blocks, I spotted a small, barely occupied cafe and hurried inside. The cool, dim interior was a welcome relief from the sweltering heat outside, especially with the air conditioning running at full blast. Plus, according to Izao's recollections, they served decent food at a reasonable price.
I settled into a shadowy corner and ordered a substantial meal, requesting that everything be brought out at once. Besides me, the only other patrons were an elderly couple leisurely enjoying their ice cream.
As the saying goes, "morning is wiser than evening," and even though it was afternoon, I felt significantly better than before I'd retired for the night. My concern for Zanh Kiem had shifted into confidence in his recovery. After all, he was in the care of those best suited to look after him. The sudden prospect of the world's end, strangely, galvanized me. It was clear that everything would be resolved soon, which now seemed a preferable outcome compared to the drawn-out agony of waiting months for the inevitable.
While waiting for my order, I spread the papers across the table. I wasn't planning to study here, I merely wanted to review the material with a fresh mind to grasp the fundamental principle of the technique. Yet before I could peruse the first page, someone took the opposite seat at my table. The audacity was familiar; without lifting my gaze from the Japanese text, I asked:
"How are you feeling, legate?"
"Sire." He looked entirely different from our last encounter, appearing taller and seemingly younger. "I'm no Light One - such events don't affect me. But thank you for your concern."
He was correct. Unlike the outward-oriented Light Gifted, Dark adepts are a closed system. The simultaneous death of three Creators probably didn't even phase him. How does he find me, I wondered? He'd likely answer honestly if I asked, but did I want to know? I wasn't sure if I needed that information right now.
"Would you like to order something?" I slid the menu towards him.
"Thank you, Sire, but I must decline."
"I'm all ears, legate; you didn't come here without a purpose, right?" I asked bluntly.
"Firstly, I wanted to verify your wellbeing, Sire."
"I'm fine. I felt the impact, but it left no lasting effects."
"Your Spark is unique, Sire, and I wanted to personally ensure your health."
Just as I was about to ask him about the "second" reason, Abel de Diaz diverted his attention to the papers on the table.
"May I, Sire?"
Grasping my nod, the legate pulled the pages towards him and dived into studying them. His immersion was brief, a mere two minutes, after which he pushed the papers away, doing so with a hint of repulsion.
"Where did you get this flawed rip-off, Sire?"
"Zanh Kiem gave it to me, strongly suggesting I learn this technique, then he got hit by the backlash from the Creators' death."
"Hm-m-m. Young Zan, I see..." The legate rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "That changes things. But this technique isn't suited for your Spark. It barely works for Light Ones, and for you, it's practically useless. Perhaps Zan planned to personally train you, Sire. The description alone, without guidance, is of no use to you."
"I can't ignore the urgent request of the Maker." I bowed my head.
"You're right, Sire, that would be imprudent. But Zan can't assist you at the moment, Sire."
"Unfortunate." I shrugged. For the first time, I didn't feel an ounce of fear or apprehension towards this man - he was just starting to annoy me!
"May I?" I nodded and the legate pulled the pages towards him again. "So. The first point talks about tranquility and mental purification. What works for Light Ones will only harm you, Sire. Your Spark is closer to Gray and is tied to the balance between selfishness and altruism. You need not clear your mind but to tap into your emotions. Not into a longing for possession or a sense of ownership, as a Dark One would do, but into feelings of empathy, cooperation, and perhaps, love. How do you feel about your armor, Sire? This technique is meant specifically for Metatron, correct?"
Describing my feelings towards my armor was somewhat challenging, but the legate listened attentively, allowing me to express myself without interruption.
"Your strength lies in your emotions, sensations, and imagination, Sire. As you practice, always strive to recreate the sensation you experience when donning the armor of the First Angel. From the weight of the gloves to the security it provides, down to every feeling it evokes. This is how you should prepare for your training, Sire. Ultimately, when you visualize yourself in Metatron, you should experience all the same sensations as when you're physically clad in the armor," the legate lectured, though I did not interrupt him. "In the beginning, you may find it helpful, though it may sound peculiar, to use auditory reinforcement."
"Auditory what?" I asked, unclear about what he was implying.
"Like in those trendy Japanese animations..." Abel de Diaz gestured in the air. "They call them anime, I believe." He nodded in self-confirmation before continuing. "The characters shout the name of their techniques as they execute them. It's not a foolish method, especially during the initial stages of mastering a skill."
I could have pointed out that anime has been around for over fifty years, but for someone of his age, it could indeed be considered "trendy". So, I held my tongue.
"It's a rare technique but quite useful in your case," said the legate, picking up a fork from the table, examining it, then setting it back down. "Here's how it works."
He likely created an energy projection of the fork, but my abilities fell short of detecting it.
"I must admit," I shrugged, "I can't see auras. Or rather, I can, but only while in the Break."
"What's the issue, Sire?" The Dark adept seemed surprised. "Enter the Break, and I'll show you everything."
"Here?" I asked somewhat amused. "In front of other people?"
"People?" The legate raised an eyebrow. "They won't be a problem."
And that's when I noticed the cafe was devoid of patrons; the bartender was fast asleep, his face planted on the counter, and the waiter was comfortably lounging on one of the sofas, blissfully snoring away. If Abel had intended to cause me trouble, he would have been much more discreet about it. Moreover, I trusted that he meant me no harm. After pondering for a moment, I nodded and stepped into the Break.
"Sire, observe..."
The legate first demonstrated the technique swiftly, then repeated it at a slower pace. He broke down each step, showing how energy lines and connections formed, and how he "cloned" the fork and transferred it to his hand. Abel had likely played the role of a mentor and teacher multiple times throughout his long life. Even Zanh Kiem's knack for teaching paled in comparison to the legate's ability to simplify complex concepts, making them intuitive and easily graspable.
Naturally, I didn't master the projection technique in fifteen minutes, despite my mentor's talent. But now I was clear on what I needed to practice and strive for. After exiting the Break, I rehearsed what I had learned several times.
"Yes, that's correct, Sire." Abel nodded in satisfaction, watching me. "With a month of rigorous training, you'll be able to perform this technique at a beginner's level, Sire."
From his statement, it was evident that the legate was unaware of the significantly shifted deadline for the End of the World. I was about to inform him, but a strange inner premonition caused me to hold my tongue. Since the Spark had awakened within me, I had learned to trust my intuition more.
"So, you've explained the 'first,'" I shifted the topic. "Now, what's the 'second' reason that made you seek me out?"
"You should practice more caution and vigilance, Sire." Abel de Diaz lowered his head, seemingly embarrassed that he had allowed himself to criticize me.
What was he referring to? Ketsu? The unrealized duel? The meeting with the Heir? Unable to deduce his meaning, I asked him outright:
"Could you elaborate?"
"Yesterday, while in your real body, you inadvertently came too close to the curator of the House on the Hill, Sire. And he was able to identify you, Sire. Perhaps by your scent, or something else."
What?!! A cold shiver ran down my spine.
"What?" I repeated aloud, my voice raspy.
"Don't worry, Sire. Your secret is safe." The Dark Adept's smile was genuine and filled with delight. "But in the future, try to be more cautious. Sire?"
"What. Have. You. Done?" I managed to croak out. Each word felt as heavy as an immovable boulder.
"Mr. Rock met with an unfortunate accident. He lost control of his car and drove off a cliff. He had always been fond of fast driving. A tragic loss, indeed..." The legate allowed himself a slight yawn as he spoke. "Rest assured, Sire. No one will link this accident back to you. And since he intended to share what he found out with the Heir in person, his knowledge will remain his alone, never to pass his lips." Abel reached for the teapot and casually asked, "Tea, Sire?"