Having brewed my usual cup of tea, I settled onto the windowsill, cycling through what I remembered about the last Breakthrough. There was an abundance of information. I had to dissect both my own battles and those I managed to witness in other arenas. I also needed to consider the fact that other Knights besides myself were marked with Gold. Interestingly, Gold Awards were considered a myth until the last Breakthrough in Wilflaes, according to BKDW and Masks. But it appears that there are seven other owners of these legendary skills, one of whom is the audacious young Crixus that I've already met. I only managed to recognize one of the skills, and that was due to the Break's guidance. What if fate brings me back into contact with one of these seven, forcing me to draw my sword again? I certainly don't want to relive such a nightmare.
Why didn't I refuse? I could have ignored the Call, shut myself off from it. But I shouldn't chide myself for this decision. I did what was right: whether I had answered the Call or not, my double would still have existed within those columns. And the Breakthrough would have occurred, with seven Knights against eight doubles. Without me, victory for the Break's guardians would have been uncertain. I shudder to think of the consequences of such a loss! I owe a debt for a new chance, a debt to the world, and I won't forget that. While no one asked for my consent, I still view it as a fair exchange - a second life for the duties of a raig. As long as my conscience remains, I intend to honor my part of the deal.
Over and over, I replayed the final farewell scene with the remaining standing Knights, unable to shake off a nagging feeling that I was overlooking something. The axeman's words, "One-one," given that he, like all other Knights, is barely twenty, made sense. But what the Eastern-looking raig said... His mention of a "Quantum Mirror" seemed like a reference to a book or a movie. But... That's the odd part!
This implies that the raig understands the Breakthrough as an eruption of collective human fantasy into the Break. However, it took BKDW, with the aid of Masks and intelligence analysts, several months to come to this conclusion, and to my knowledge, this information hasn't been shared publicly yet. Yet here is a raig who casually links the Breakthrough with a specific title. Perhaps he was "lucky" enough to participate in a series of Breakthroughs that led him to this conclusion. Yes, it's a possibility — as Amanda noted in the forum thread, "accidents happen." But it's easy to chalk everything up to coincidence, when a more logical assumption might suggest otherwise...
Darn it! I've been mistaken from the start! Why did I assume that BKDW and the Masks were the only Break Knights' associations globally? This is sheer nonsense; it simply couldn't be. They are the only publicly known raig organizations, true, but nothing more than that! According to Maya, during their visit to Troyusse, they encountered other Knights, not just one but multiple others! Yes, and it's only logical. In large cities where anonymity reigns, overcoming one's paranoia and making contact with someone can be challenging. But in smaller communities like Troyusse, where everyone knows each other, the situation could be quite the opposite. Locals can easily form alliances, creating small yet stable groups. Upon further thought, it becomes evident: surely, there were individuals who, upon gaining the powers of the Break, didn't keep them hidden but instead turned to their government or their clans. The world is too vast for this not to have occurred, particularly if the youth have respect for their country's leader. Could the glaive wielder be a representative of such a clandestine, unadvertised group of raigs?
In this world, there's no such country as the People's Republic of China, with its population of nearly one and a half billion people. In its place, a dozen other countries exist, the largest of which is the Celestial Empire, stretching along the southeast coast. But if Izao's memories are to be trusted, the mentality of the Han people here differs very little from what I remember. Could there have sprung up, under the auspices of the Jade Palace and within the shadows of numerous security services, an undisclosed organization of raigs? It seems more likely than not.
I had particular plans for today, but the events of last night led me to reconsider and postpone them until tomorrow. The situation regarding potential soul replacements is much more concerning to me. I could take this information and present it to the rector of the Immaculate Virgin's temple right away. Why him, you might ask? Because, besides his high rank, he is also a Maker, and if not the church, who should address the issue of soul substitutions? The only thing stopping me from this visit was the fear that I, too, might be mistaken for such a creature, given that my soul comes from a different world. Thus, I'll keep this option as a last resort.
And what about this "Quantum Mirror"? I turned on the computer and typed the query into the search engine. But before I could press enter, I hesitated and deleted my input. No, I shouldn't conduct this search from home. If the Tang warrior does represent some clandestine organization, such a query could lead me to a website where skilled individuals could quickly track down my location. Yes, I'm aware this is probably just another wave of paranoia, but it's too acute to dismiss.
I poured myself another cup of tea and returned to the windowsill, feigning interest in the view outside. In reality, I was scanning the shadows and the shifts in the air, trying to discern if my inquisitive visitor had stopped by today. I'm probably being overly cautious; the forum posts clearly indicated that she has lost interest in Izao. But regardless, I spent about fifteen minutes surveying the area, and only when I was sure nothing was amiss did I get dressed and leave the apartment.
As usual, I stepped into the Break in the elevator and took the usual route away from my building, emerging into sunlight three blocks to the south, in a residential neighborhood. Although it was work hours, finding an unoccupied apartment with a connected computer was not easy. My luck seemed to be lagging today; the task took almost half an hour.
I found myself in a bachelor pad, furnished only with a foldable bed and a high-end gaming computer, complete with a pricey chair. After confirming the absence of surveillance devices, I exited the Break. With a hint of apprehension, I powered on the computer, half-expecting a lash from "Purity" — this time I was indeed trespassing and intended to use private property. Izao's moral compass drew a clear line between personal and corporate belongings. And while "Purity" had not reacted when I used the office computer, it might not be as lenient now! Yet, nothing happened. It appears that as long as I walk the path of a raig and use my abilities for a "good cause," the white blade is willing to overlook such minor transgressions.
The initial search for "Quantum Mirror" returned so much information that I was momentarily overwhelmed, but most of it linked to scientific publications or discussions. After some thought, I added the tag "read, watch." An hour later, when I was on the verge of giving up, I finally found what I was looking for. "Quantum Mirror" was the title of one of the short stories from a popular Eastern light novel, "Gate of the Worlds." Finding a translation into Izao's native French didn't take long, but the quality of this translation was pitiful and horribly amateur. I felt like weeping as I read!
"Gate of the Worlds" proved to be a fantastical series, vaguely reminiscent of the "Stargate" franchise I knew. However, travel between worlds was facilitated not through portals but by quantum teleportation. It was fortunate that the short stories weren't full-fledged books, but rather smaller pieces, about one-fifth of an average novel. Otherwise, with the translation being as horrifically machine-like as it was, I would have suffered until evening.
In "Quantum Mirror," an elite team of eight fighters, who also happened to be the series' main characters, encountered their doppelgängers. They were defeated, captured, and abandoned in the desert on an unfamiliar planet, while their duplicates returned to the Earth base. This resulted in numerous casualties and nearly sparked a global war. If not for a fortunate accident that enabled the real team to escape, return, and ultimately defeat the imposters, this story would have had a far worse ending. Glass-like columns were also mentioned in the narrative. In total, there were four correlations: the desert, the substitution, the glass pillars, and the group of eight warriors. Regrettably, the authors provided no insight into the motivations or origins of these entities — whether from a lack of creativity or due to the story's constraints.
After finishing my reading, I cleared the browser history, shut down the computer, replaced the chair, and promptly shifted to the Break. Perhaps the Eastern Knight was onto something. The similarities were too striking to be mere coincidences. So, the Chinese raig seemed to know what the Breakthroughs were. He had voiced his theory far too confidently. Granted, there was a chance that the Knight was simply an avid fan of this novel series and I was over-interpreting things. That could be the case, but I was inclined to believe that my conclusions were more likely than such a coincidence.
For some reason, the longer I live in this world, the more the gap widens between the number of questions I have and the answers I can find. And the gap seemed to increase day by day.
My energy reserves had significantly risen with my leveling up, allowing me to stay in the Break longer than before. So, upon leaving the stranger's apartment, I didn't return home. Instead, I headed to a large forest park on the outskirts of the city, where I planned to experiment with sliding. Perhaps it would have been wiser to go back to my room and mull over everything more thoroughly, but I felt like I needed a break. Lately, too much had been weighing on me, and the mind needs rest too.
However, when I arrived at the forest park and warmed up, getting acclimated to the slightly enhanced projection capabilities due to leveling up, I chose to defer training in favor of a much more crucial task.
It was just shy of eleven o'clock. I had sufficient prana, so after adjusting to the marginally increased projection power, I pivoted and raced towards the metropolitan municipality. It was imperative to resolve the question of whether or not I was the First Raig, once and for all. As of now, the sensation of a tightening search noose was gnawing at me increasingly each day. The First Knight was simply too intriguing to many players, and I had a limited understanding of the capabilities of those involved in the hunt. I concede that there's a chance no one is actively pursuing me and all these suppositions are merely the outcome of my heightened paranoia. Maybe that's true, but even in that case, it's better to err on the side of caution.
Since I didn't need to remain concealed or approach stealthily this time, the journey to the central square took only a few minutes. Just as I was leaping off the roof of the stock exchange building onto the pavement, I realized I had forgotten to change into my motorcycle gear. If I were to exit the Break, I'd appear before everyone in a simple t-shirt and shorts, with my face exposed. I could certainly go back home and change, but that would require a significant detour, and I'd have to descend underground again... I had no plans to leave the projection state, and if that were to happen against my will, then no suit or face covering would help me. So after a moment's hesitation, I made my way straight to the BKDW building.
Having a rough idea of the room layout, I could have taken a direct route through the roof to the organization's office. But, wanting to make my visit seem cordial, I refrained from exploiting that opportunity and instead entered through the main entrance.
At this hour, the hall with the Knights' portraits was sparsely populated with a handful of idlers and tourists, no more than fifty in total. The main rush usually happened around lunchtime or in the evening. I observed, somewhat surprised, that my portrait drew as much attention as Maya's. It's probably about novelty. I'm not as appealing as the young female Knight with her face uncovered. My popularity likely stemmed from the swirling rumors and the public's fascination with anything new.
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Failing to find anything of interest, I traversed the room and walked through the painted door. I had anticipated seeing Maya at the desk, just as during my previous visit, but she wasn't the receptionist this time. Instead, a stranger in military camouflage lounged in the comfortable office chair, his legs thrown onto the table and his arms crossed over his chest. A dark visor of a tactical helmet concealed his face.
Once again, I was struck by the pragmatic intelligence of the local Raigs, far surpassing that of comic book characters. Instead of absurd masks that barely cover the face and garish costumes, they opt for much more practical and effective methods of concealing their identities.
The moment I stepped through the enchanted glass, it reacted with a glow, alerting everyone of a projected presence. The unfamiliar young man immediately leapt from his chair, and I heard the usual sound:
"Ra-a-a-a-a-a-ig!!!"
A gray steel cuirass, a chainmail skirt reaching mid-thigh, single-piece thigh guards and greaves, scaly bracers complemented by full plate gauntlets, and a broad-bladed bastard sword adorned with a characteristic pommel decoration of a red flower bud — standing before me was none other than the Break Knight known as Red Poppy.
"Greetings, fellow Knight," I said, halting five paces from the table and dipping my head slightly.
"My respects, Maestro," Red, unlike Crixus, was a well-mannered young man and bowed appropriately, greeting his elder.
"Is Kraas in the office?" I asked, cutting to the chase.
"Yes, he went upstairs about twenty minutes ago," Red Poppy's visor was open enough for me to see his eyes. He looked highly curious about my visit but refrained from asking out of politeness.
"Alert him of my visit, and I will ascend at a leisurely pace."
"Will do," he responded with a wave.
"Thank you."
Having responded, I once again stepped into the wall, this time deliberately slowing my movements to avoid revealing the extent of my obstacle-passing abilities.
Unlike my last visit, when I climbed the stairs to the organization's office, Max met me in the Break three minutes later. It was my third time seeing his armor, yet I still marveled at its majestic and vibrant appearance. He looked like a true Knight from bygone eras, a sight bound to enchant any high-school-age girls who admired him.
"Glad to see you, Maestro!" Instead of bowing, young Kraas saluted me with his blade.
Just like during my first visit, the office was devoid of anyone other than the nominal boss. The only difference was that Maya's computer was on, and the familiar photo of her mentor was at the opposite end of the table. Additionally, the office had become slightly more cluttered since my last visit: numerous papers were scattered everywhere, and the stacks of books and comics in the corners were already a meter and a half high from the floor.
"Good afternoon, Max," I responded, swiftly steering the conversation towards my intent. "I'd like to make a small announcement to the Knights of the organization. Can you assist me with this?"
"What exactly do you need help with?" the brilliantly armored Knight asked.
"How many Raigs are currently in the building, and how many could arrive shortly if you requested them?"
"Including me, there are three here, and four could arrive within half an hour." There was a note of uncertainty, possibly even apprehension, in his tone. "But first, I need to know why I should gather everyone."
"Give me a moment," I raised my left hand. "This isn't a threat." I slowly drew the sword from its scabbard, holding it in such a way that launching an attack would be difficult. Kraas stepped back but didn't rush to assume a defensive stance with his own blade. "The steel is clean, as you can see." I rotated the blade of "Word" for him to affirm my sincerity. "I haven't come with threats or ill intentions, just a minor announcement that ideally should be heard by as many Knights of the organization as possible."
Judging by his head's tilt as I spoke, Max was scrutinizing the sword intensely. Thanks to his unique ability, he was familiar with my weapon's properties and was watching for any sign of rust on the blade — an indicator of deceit. My honesty left the steel untarnished, and Kraas' shoulders visibly relaxed.
"That demonstration was unnecessary," the head of BKDW stated after I sheathed "Word". I suppose he could say that; his sword didn't prevent him from lying. However, I could tell my visit had caused him some unease because he didn't understand the reason behind it. "Have you considered joining the BKDW?"
"I haven't reached a decision yet," I evaded his question. "But I'm grateful for the trust and access to the organization's internal forum." Before Max could interject, I pressed on. "So, half an hour?"
"Well..." But as he began to reply, he paused, realizing that my words essentially marked the end of our conversation. "Hmm, will you be here?"
"I'd prefer to be on the building's roof, that's where I'll make my announcement."
"Going through the ceiling is inconvenient," Kraas remarked, tilting his head. "The concrete slab there is massive and multilayered. It's better to go through that wall over there, between the bookcases." He gestured to a particular spot where a noticeable niche indeed existed in the wall.
"Thank you."
I cast a final glance around the office before exiting, and once again, the photo on Maya's desk intrigued me. There was something incredibly familiar about it, but I couldn't pin down what. I certainly hadn't met her mentor before... Seeing Maya, Kraas, and Sivorsky together in the same photo was not the odd part, even though they were merely "acquaintances". It was something else. To avoid displaying my curiosity, and thus my interest, I didn't linger or scrutinize the photo. I merely nodded to Max and made my way to the niche.
The formal head of BKDW watched as my projection seamlessly merged into the wall. At this location, the brickwork and armoured cladding were thinner, simplifying my transit.
Once outside, I leveraged a small parapet built into the wall — likely for the convenience of the Knights — and ascended about a dozen meters before catching hold of a ledge and landing on the roof.
I scanned my surroundings and found a comfortable spot near the pedestal of one of the many statues depicting wolverines. Each building bordering the city's central square boasted similar adornments.
Here, it seemed the duke didn't officially govern the state — that was the job of a prime minister and a tri-tiered parliament. Yet, wherever you looked in the city's historical district, you'd stumble upon some emblem of his lineage. As far as I could tell, the current duke was held in high regard within the country, and his moral authority was such that no legislation passed without his endorsement. The House on the Hill, or the "Castle" as it's also known, although lacking formal authoritative powers, could express disapproval of any decision by any body — from parliament to court rulings — and the decision would be annulled or re-evaluated. Life had shown me that this unwritten veto power, wielded by an insightful individual, was sufficient to govern a nation while maintaining a low profile.
I settled comfortably, stretched out my legs, and placed "Word" across my lap. Not that I anticipated an attack, but sitting with my back against something while the sword was sheathed was awkward.
Indeed, while browsing the BKDW forum yesterday, I could have messaged Kraas to forewarn him of my visit. That would have made more sense...if I could fully trust this organization. Yet, while I was certain that Max, Leonidas, and possibly Maya genuinely wished for me to join BKDW, there was the risk that they could be deceived or manipulated without their knowledge. Thus, my unannounced arrival left no room for their supervisors to react. Organizing my capture or any other form of coercion was now extremely challenging and risky. Additionally, even if Kraas was intent on discovering my identity by any means — even attacking and nullifying my prana, causing me to fall out of the Break — it was highly unlikely the rest of the BKDW Knights would endorse such an approach. A direct order from Max to seize me would spell the end for the organization, and all independent Raigs would simply depart afterward. On the other hand, if the supervisors had had time to persuade each Knight of the BKDW, the outcome might be different. Now, I was almost certain I faced no threat. Regardless of anyone's interest in a potential First Knight, no one would deem it advantageous to exchange the information about him for an already established organization of Raigs. Hence, I sat serenely in the shadow of the statue, awaiting Kraas to assemble his people.
The more time I spend in this world, the more I feel my sanity fraying at the edges. Not because of projections, the Break, shapeshifters, or sensums which would've been inconceivable to my former self. Not even the Breakthroughs have a hand in this. The real culprit is my constant state of nervous tension and heightened suspicion. The incessant anticipation of a trap or a punch, the perpetual need to look over my shoulder and calculate each step — it's exhausting. I long for some form of anchor, a stable fixture I can trust in this world. Regrettably, such a hope likely won't advance beyond a mere wishful thought. Even in the absence of such a support, I need to alter something about my existence; else this isn't living but a ceaseless race of a hamster in a wheel. If only I knew what to change and how, but alas, I can't seem to figure it out. Should I truly consider joining BKDW? What would I stand to lose if I don't reveal my identity? More responsibilities? Probably. But I would also gain protection at all levels. Of course, the looming threat from the "higher-ups" and supervisors wouldn't dissipate. State structures remain as repugnant as ever. Indeed, I find myself in a predicament where safety isn't a luxury I can afford.
Or perhaps I should throw caution to the wind and approach the local branch of the Inquisition?
Hmm...where do these bizarre thoughts spring from?
The more I pondered my future, the more my mood plummeted. I needed some form of release — if not a confidante to unburden myself to, then perhaps a hobby? In my previous life, fencing provided an invaluable solace. During training, I could momentarily forget everything else, and after sessions, I felt mentally rejuvenated. Here, fencing is ingrained in my lifestyle. The last Breakthrough underscored that halting development equated to courting death: we triumphed because we were more skilled than our past Breakthrough counterparts — if not, well... My affection for swordplay remains intact, but I need something detached from Raigs, Breaks, projections, and these damn Breakthroughs! Should I actually consider drawing comics? However, given my artistic prowess...it's a bleak prospect.
It seems my persona piqued some interest among the others as a group of BKDW Knights ascended to the roof a mere ten minutes after my departure from their office.
Seven of them appeared: Kraas, Maya, Thomas, Red, Amanda, Leonidas, and Rex — the latter presumably named after the snarling canine face engraved on his breastplate. They lined up on the parapet in a single row, anticipation palpable in their stances.
They were mistrustful. Their selected positions indicated their readiness to make a swift escape by leaping down. They were fearful, likely due to the ominous tales Leonidas had regaled them with, portraying my daunting prowess. However, three of them apparently didn't anticipate any aggression from me. They stood relaxed, their hands away from their swords: Maya, Leonidas, and, surprisingly, Amanda, with whom I had never crossed paths before. But Max was restless: it was discernible in his shuffling from foot to foot. The remaining three seemed somewhat indecisive - their postures reflecting more curiosity than anything else. However, discerning people's moods when they're shrouded in armor and their faces obscured by visors is more akin to divination than deduction.