What?!! My palms instinctively gravitated towards the hilts of my weapons upon hearing this. How? How did he identify, albeit with minor errors, the specialties of my weapons?
"This is my ability," Kraas promptly replied, displaying his open palms. "And to clear any misunderstandings between us, my sword is named 'Duty.'"
His forthrightness was a good strategy, and I didn't believe he was lying. However, his words only slightly alleviated my unease. I've met people in my life for whom duty was paramount, and my longstanding experiences with them have taught me that they can be more dangerous than the most unhinged fanatics. Generally, they are normal people, until you touch upon their "sore spot" and they lose their composure. Here, the situation is compounded by the fact that even if Kraas wants to act against his duty, his sword won't allow it. Perhaps for someone in his position, this isn't such a bad thing. For instance, "Purity," or as he called it, "Blade of the Hero," would be a much worse choice for a leader.
"Don't worry, the names of your blades will remain confidential within the small circle of our organization's Knights."
In essence, what harm would it do if BKDW knew about "Word" and "Purity"? Ha! Such a development is actually a massive advantage for me. I doubt these young men and women can manipulate words as effectively as I have learnt to over more than four decades. When you know every word spoken by your conversation partner is true, you tend to relax and stop looking for the ulterior motives they might exploit.
"I'll remember this promise," I said, and Max jerked as though struck by an electric shock - it seemed I had unintentionally used a phrase that touched on something personal.
"We would be pleased to have you join us," Kraas took the initiative. "Your blades suggest that you'd fit into our team easily. Our organization is built on honesty and trust." Becoming self-conscious about the grandeur of his statement, he added more calmly, "We are few in number, and during each Breakthrough, a lot hinges on who's covering your back..."
Well... at least he genuinely believes what he says. Perhaps in his youthful naiveté, he even believes he truly heads an organization overseen by the government and Castle on the Hill.
In reality, officially joining the BKDW is a more promising idea than it might initially seem. Not as an open Knight, of course. I don't need such fortune as the heightened scrutiny of the public eye on my life. But becoming an anonymous member of the organization does offer benefits. Primarily, I'll have the opportunity to train properly and be better equipped for the next Breakthrough. Additionally, the issue of money will be resolved once and for all. Though I wouldn't say I have a penchant for luxury so strong that I would need more than what I earn for registering and for repelling the Breakthrough.
During our conversation, it felt as if I was mentally solving a Rubik's cube. About ten years ago, we shot a report on dolphin trainers. Not those working in dolphinariums, but those who trained free dolphins living in the seas. The conventional "carrot and stick" approach didn't work, given the nature of the open sea. Any form of punishment resulted in the animal simply swimming away and never returning. That's when I learned about training methods using exclusively positive reinforcement. It's hard to even refer to it as training; it's more like raising and cultivating certain habits. Observing this facility, combined with what I already knew about this official organization of Knights, increasingly reminded me of that training method. Raigs are much like those dolphins: they could "swim away," and you'd never find them. Thus, if one wishes to maintain even minimal control over such elusive, yet undoubtedly useful individuals, this approach to operations seems optimal.
What's probably keeping me from joining is my inherent paranoia. If I were native to this world, I might be more inclined towards BKDW, but considering my unique circumstances...
"This is too premature," I declined, without completely closing the door to the possibility. "Such a major decision can't be made hastily."
"Premature doesn't mean 'no,'" Max lifted his visor for the first time during our conversation, revealing a genuinely pleasant smile. "How about we register you as an official Knight on our site?" he swiftly added, "This comes with numerous perks: access to exclusive sections of the forum and important discussions. Also, starting this week, we're introducing free missions, for which we'll exclusively receive orders from governmental services and the ducal house. They promise generous rewards."
Missions? Interesting. Then again, why not? Whoever is behind BKDW knows how to innovate, and while the rest of the world attempts to engage with raigs in conventional ways, they're finding newer, more effective methods. I genuinely feel sorry for the intelligence agencies of other states, as soon it will be impossible for a single resident of Wilflaes to so much as cough without the NBI instantly becoming aware of their "malaise."
"Intriguing," I deliberately drawled out the word, feigning uncertainty. "I suppose I agree."
"Username 'Maestro'?"
"Is it available?"
"We have one, but yours will be 'blue,' representing a verified Knight."
"Then 'Maestro' it is."
"Great! Is 'Maestro-raig' acceptable as your login?"
"Yes," I agreed. The details were irrelevant. His suggestion was fine.
How I wished I could achieve the third level of Power! Having received my answer, Max, without exiting the Break, moved to his workstation and started typing on the tangible keyboard, his spectral fingers pressing the keys. I couldn't help but feel envious...
"Would you like to enter the password yourself?"
"Why don't you do it?" I didn't wish to exit the Break, and revealing my inability to interact with physical objects as a projection would be unwise. "Plus, seven, open bracket, nine hundred and five, close bracket..." The phone numbers here are slightly different, and dialing for international access is done differently, but I'll always remember these numbers.
Given that Kraas could remember my password, it's worth mentioning he already has admin access and therefore can access all forum information. Moreover, I wouldn't do something as foolish as logging into the BKDW website from my apartment.
"All set," Max said, having completed the registration process. "I would like to have a word with you..."
I, too, had numerous questions, but I'd spent sufficient time here for my first visit, and my paranoia was screaming that I'd overstayed in this unusual building! So, I cut the young Knight short.
"Not now. It's nearly five..." I couldn't say "I have important matters to attend to" or "I'm in a rush" because it wouldn't be true, so I simply left it at that.
"Ah, um..." Max hadn't expected such abrupt dismissal but quickly recovered. "In that case, I won't hold you up. Go on down, and I'll let Maya know that I'll finish the registration myself."
"Goodbye," I offered, with a polite nod.
"I hope we see you again. Goodbye."
While it was difficult to dismiss such youthful earnestness, I managed to, offering a vague shrug before heading to the exit leading to the first floor.
"Wait." Kraas called out as I neared the wall. "One question!"
"Yes?"
"Are you the First?"
The Break phenomenon emerged in this world only six months ago but has already spurred an array of myths, fiction, and tales. The three most popular "legends" revolve around a Maniac Knight who murders ordinary people from the Break, a Knight who's also a maniac but hunts exclusively other projections, and the tale of "The First Raig". According to this folklore, the first Breakthrough was halted by a lone Knight, a former soldier who had been in several conflict zones and had secluded himself in the desert for meditation, where the Breakthrough found him. From my perspective, it's a cliched, nonsensical narrative, surely divorced from reality. But a former soldier who's been through several wars couldn't possibly be young... Then, I show up, the sole raig fitting the legend's age criteria. Perhaps Kraas recognizes that the First Raig is merely a myth, yet my appearance seemed to have somewhat thrown him off balance.
"Do I look like him?" I pose, stepping through the wall without awaiting his response.
If he persisted and repeated his question, I would need to assert a firm "no." However, his reluctance to appear too pushy meant he didn't follow me.
"I have everything ready for you." Maya's eyes shimmered with an unhealthily excited glint.
Most likely, after indulging in numerous horror stories, thrillers, and science fiction, the girl also believed me to be the First Raig. As soon as I emerged from the wall, she was already there, in the form of a projection. She studied my face so intently, as if hoping to memorize every detail. Her gaze started to bother me, so I shifted my focus to her chest and stared just as unabashedly. After five seconds of silence, the girl finally caught my hint, averted her gaze, and stepped aside.
"The door behind my chair leads to a secluded room," she blurted out slightly too fast. "There are twelve thousand francs on the table. They are yours — two for registration and ten for your contribution to halting the Breakthrough. The room is entirely isolated, free from tracking, recording, or any other devices, artifacts, or contrivances." She rattled off the information as if she'd memorized it.
"Thank you." I replied curtly, moving past her.
"May I ask you a few questions?"
Another one? Give me a break!
"Not now," I cut her off. Perhaps I was being overly harsh, and should have been a bit more understanding, but with the "Word" sheathed, I preferred to limit my responses to any inquiries. "Mr. Kraas has registered me on your website. Send me a private message, and I'll be sure to read it..."
With those words, I distanced myself from Maya, following her earlier instructions. The wall separating me from the next room felt as thick as the one bordering the guest hall — a solid layering of concrete and armored steel. Not fully trusting Maya's words, I paced around the room's perimeter. Though it was uncomfortable moving within the walls, I could easily detect any discrepancies in the material this way. The only thing I found was some passive ventilation, with no wires, even after checking the floor and ceiling. The entire inspection took close to half an hour, but it did serve to slightly appease my paranoia.
Inside the small, four-square-meter room was a wooden table with a lamp connected to a portable battery pack. Banknotes were arranged in the middle of the table. After scanning the confined space one more time, I made my decision and exited the Break. Without taking a breath, I quickly gathered the money and, without counting it, stowed it in my waist bag. Then I promptly reentered the shadowy realm.
Phew... Still alive and seemingly unharmed. The money wasn't strewn on the floor, indicating it remained in the bag. I felt a twinge of embarrassment for my suspicion. Initially, I planned to leave the room via the opposite direction, traverse the building, and make my way to the street without encountering anyone. However, I remembered that I'd neglected to bid Maya farewell. It seemed minor, but something felt off about such an abrupt exit.
I returned to the peculiar reception area of BKDW, but found Maya engrossed in a book, yawning widely. She likely assumed I had departed long ago without saying goodbye.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
Once again, I faced the dilemma of how to draw her attention without leaving the Break. I approached the glass partition, circled it within the wall, and, as expected, no alarm was triggered. Exiting the wall, but this time from the "guest" side, I neared the enchanted barrier and placed my hand on the glass. Instantly, a glowing imprint appeared at the point of contact.
Like the previous time, Maya reacted immediately, "Ra-a-a-a-i-i-i-ig!..."
The sound was slightly muffled due to the barrier. Seeing me, she was visibly taken aback. I merely waved and gave a nod to indicate goodbye before leaving the unusual building with a clear conscience.
Upon reaching the street, I didn't head straight for home. Particularly after my conversation with the younger Kraas, I didn't think I'd be followed, but I chose to err on the side of caution. I didn't dash off in the opposite direction, but instead headed toward the cargo port as a decoy destination. Upon reaching the familiar port facilities, I vanished among cranes, loaders, and containers, and subsequently plunged into the city sewers. Yet again, I didn't head home but veered slightly off course. I had an attic in mind, roughly three blocks from the port. Perpetually vacant, with hefty locks barring access from the stairwells to unauthorized individuals, it seemed the perfect location for my purposes.
Upon entering the attic, I exited the Break and immediately inspected my bag. Much to my relief, the money was intact. Still wearing my gloves and helmet, I gingerly removed the banknotes and spread them out on a piece of plywood. A cursory examination revealed no tracking devices or suspicious dyes. At first glance, the numbers on the banknotes also didn't raise any concerns — they were from various series and showed no discernible pattern in their numbering. After scrutinizing each bill against the light — a process that consumed nearly half an hour — I regathered them. I chided myself for the excessive precautions that consumed so much time, then descended back underground.
Once I finally reached my apartment, I discarded the cumbersome cloak and then the rest of my protective suit. In the summer, this undoubtedly useful and well-camouflaged gear becomes unbearably hot once you exit the Break.
Before opening the bag, I donned a bathrobe, goggles, and thin latex gloves. I then placed an infrared lamp — used by Melanie to check the quality of canvases — on the table. Only after all these preparatory measures did I retrieve the money to conduct a more thorough check. Externally, the banknotes seemed fine, but I couldn't let it rest at that and began to scrutinize the numbers. Yes, there appeared to be no discernible pattern in the numbering at first glance, but what if the bills had been selected based on a more complex algorithm than sequential or alternate numbering? My recent trauma seemed to have affected my judgment, as I genuinely attempted to decipher a pattern, even resorting to online assistance. I spent three hours on this endeavor! However, I uncovered no evidence of foul play from BKDW. Thus, there were two possibilities: either Kraas' affiliates played fairly, or they were so much smarter than me that I wouldn't grasp their scheme until it was too late. Despite the persistent clamoring of my paranoia, the former option seemed more logical, and I decided to go with that.
The funds I received from the organization for registration and repelling the Breakthrough were substantial, more than enough to cover any reasonable expenses. I could even afford to buy a fairly decent motorcycle. However, considering I would be relocating to the university campus in just over a month, such a purchase seemed superfluous. For a seventeen-year-old, one could say I was rather well-off. Nevertheless, my satisfaction with this windfall was short-lived. Once I'd put the money away, I seated myself at the computer and entered the following search query:
"Scariest monsters from books, movies, and cartoons"
In hindsight, that was a terrible idea...
Human imagination proved to be far more disturbing than I had envisioned. Countless times more so. Some monsters, the products of evidently deranged minds, stirred shivers of dread even in me, a man of age and experience. The worst part was that despite realizing my error, I found myself unable to stop. I continued clicking links, perusing descriptions, and gazing at artwork and illustrations. It seemed Maya was undergoing a similar ordeal, but in a more acute form. Eventually, I managed to wrench myself from the monitor and shut down the computer; by then, it was already half past three in the morning!
Enough of such exploration of "original sources"! Kraas had a point; most descriptions were incredibly vague, and different artists interpreted the same monster in entirely disparate ways. And it was far from certain that the Breakthrough would unleash recognizable monsters. The rupture of reality could spawn anything, much like those MAs. If any correlations or patterns emerged, I could revisit this issue. For now, doing this "research" simply strained my nerves and sapped my energy, rendering me into a living zombie, much like Maya.
Despite the somewhat hectic and stressful day, sleep didn't come easily. Each time I attempted to close my eyes, my mind immediately conjured an image of some particularly repugnant and horrifying monster. I'd always considered myself to have fairly strong nerves, unaffected by horror films or thrillers. Regrettably, that appeared to be a thing of the past. The nerves I'd inherited from Izao were not as well-conditioned. By three o'clock, I was so wearied from tossing and turning that I entered the Break and remained there until I regained my composure. This method proved quite effective; I fell asleep almost immediately upon returning to reality. However, it had a downside — it didn't protect me from the torrent of nightmares that haunted my sleep that night.
I awoke around eight, unusually early considering that I had neither work nor study to attend to, and had only fallen asleep at four. For about ten minutes, I attempted to drift back into sleep, but it soon became clear that this endeavor was in vain. For some inexplicable reason, I wasn't sleepy, despite my lack of rest and the horrifying nonsense that had filled my dreams.
Brewing a strong cup of green tea, which I found more invigorating than coffee, I settled onto the windowsill and began to reflect on my visit to BKDW. Barring my excessive caution, everything seemed to have proceeded smoothly. In theory, I could have garnered more information from Maya and Max, but that would have necessitated answering their questions... At the moment, such an exchange didn't appear advantageous. I believe I left a decent, if somewhat vague, impression of myself. Why did I respond in such an evasive manner to the direct question, "Are you the First?" What purpose could this deception serve, especially if it might bring about unwanted consequences? I should have outrightly dismissed these assumptions. Now, I had guaranteed myself increased scrutiny from BKDW and the raigs allied with this organization.
Admittedly, I managed to learn much more than I had anticipated. It was fascinating to discover the existence of "enchantments" and other non-combat abilities of the raigs, like Kraas's ability to discern the qualities of spiritual blades! I'm relieved to have learned about this in a non-threatening situation. Otherwise, such a "discovery" might have caught me off guard at a more inconvenient time. For now, it's acceptable; in the future, I'll exercise more caution and won't rely so heavily on the invisibility of the projection. With approximately five dozen raigs in the capital region, who knows what unique skills they possess and what surprises they might spring?
After finishing my tea, I felt somewhat invigorated. I left the cup in the sink, switched on the computer, and while it booted up, I went to freshen up. Once comfortably seated, I launched the browser.
To exercise patience, I first perused the metropolitan online newspapers and the overnight crime reports. The official news was unexciting. There was no published information on the outcome of Miss Horn's visit. As for the crime blotter, at first glance, everything appeared typical for such a large city, but a subtle tension was unmistakable. As one blogger, a former police captain, put it: "All of Wilflaes is steeped in the foreboding of an impending gang war." He supported his claim by pointing out the increasing attacks on various semi-criminal enterprises and several incidents of violence aimed at intimidating the underworld businesses.
Upon finishing the news, I turned my attention to the BKDW website. As anticipated, the day following the Breakthrough, the site posted artwork and succinct descriptions of the new Break Knights spotted during the reality rift containment. Besides myself, three more raigs graced the homepage. Two of them were familiar to me: the "hoplite," as I'd surmised, was an employee of BKDW, and had been assigned the pseudonym Leonidas. As soon as he became a raig, he didn't wait for the Breakthrough but reported to the organization immediately upon gaining his Knight abilities. The second, the Slavic raig, remained unaffiliated with any community. He was given a provisional name - Vityaz Tar, a reference to local mythology. The third raig was unknown to me; I hadn't seen him during the Breakthrough. However, I had only managed to spot a fraction of the people present then. According to the artwork, he was short and muscular. Dubbed the Monkey King, he was depicted in red samurai armor, his face obscured by a golden mask shaped like a monkey's muzzle.
Each image and brief description was accompanied by a link to a forum thread dedicated to that particular raig. New Knights typically spark a burst of interest, which swiftly wanes if the raig remains entirely anonymous and refrains from incidents outside of Breakthrough containment. For such figures, a couple of hundred comments on their artwork is the norm, most of them posted within the first few hours of their image's unveiling. Naturally, the situation for more public Knights is a different story. Verbal skirmishes in their forum threads are ongoing. Maya boasts the highest subscriber count, with Kraas and Thomas following in second and third place, respectively. The popularity gap between them and the fourth most followed raig - Mersk, the leader of the Masks of Novilter - is vast, spanning hundreds of thousands of fans.
As expected, my artwork appeared impressive, even on the monitor. I suspect Max's talent as an artist is intertwined with his abilities. To capture an image or a frozen movement with such precision requires one to see it in a certain way, a skill that not everyone possesses. Just as I was about to click on the menu and navigate to the forum section dedicated to me, I spotted the number of comments beneath my artwork. Initially, I assumed there was a site error. The images had been posted at two in the morning, and now, at half past nine, my thread already contained twenty-nine thousand posts! Meanwhile, the other "newcomers" had the usual couple of hundred comments. Only after opening the thread did I realize that most of the commentators weren't from Novilter. The BKDW website, being the only one of its kind both nationally and globally, attracts visitors from all around the world. The locals had yet to wake up, and the bulk of the tens of thousands of messages originated from far-flung time zones.