《The Fourth Dimension》


 I: Dichotomized Realization

    <h3 style="text-align: center">I


    <h3 style="text-align: center">


    As I gaze out the uncharacteristically clear window of my high school classroom, entranced by the arbitrary movement of the clouds strewn across the sky, I begin to recall a moment.  A singular occurrence within my dull existence that brought about unparalleled change to my outlook upon reality.  While the recollection continues to play in my mind, a measly bird flutters across the scene outside of the transparent glass, frantically scavenging for twigs and other building materials in line with its biological programming to survive.  A subtle but steady breeze pervades through the street, and the dead leaves scattered about the pavement below are caught in the gust.  In response to the sudden change in air pressure, the bird spreads its wings further in order to expedite its ongoing search, leaving my restricted view from the window and soaring through the boundlessly encompassing picturesque scenery.  With the recurring memory now uncontested for my attention, I opt to mentally re-enter my sixth period English class, instinctively pushing the introspective thoughts regarding my mother from my mind.


    ¡°Kairos, or ¡®perfect timing¡¯ translated into English, is the Greek¡­¡±


    I lose the regained focus I amassed instantaneously and return to the innards of my consciousness, as Mr. Cyprus drones on endlessly about Aristotle and the various forms of rhetorical language.  I recall enjoying school at some point, and it¡¯s not as if I have a solidified reason to dislike it now.  The repetitively strenuous practice has simply lost my attention, like many other facets of human existence.  I return my gaze to the practically motionless image of the clouds through the window, and slowly drifting across the deep blue canvas of the sky, the elusive white puffs grip the remnants of my attention for the remainder of the allotted period.


    BZZZZZZZZZZ


    I revert my gaze towards the front of the classroom, as Mr. Cyprus quickly gives the date of the next quiz before the majority of my peers leave.  Midway through his informative declaration, the English teacher pauses abruptly as if controlled by a remote, alongside the impatient students attempting to depart for a brief second or two.  Ignoring the oddity, while hurriedly scribbling the spoken date onto the forty-second page of my notebook and gathering my binders, I leave room 404 and begin my harrowing journey down three flights of stairs towards room 101.  Exhaustively trudging down the hallway towards the door to the staircase, I notice a familiar face leaving the honors¡¯ classroom across the hall and begin to expedite my embarkment as rapidly as possible.  The boisterous voice emanating from outside room 405 quickly informs me of my inability to avoid subsequent social interaction.


    ¡°Maximilian!  Hang on just a second??¡±


    I hear a feminine voice call after me, as I wince.  Rapidly catching up to me, the girl directs a somehow cheerful glare in my direction and proclaims through nervous laughter,


    ¡°You¡¯re gonna see me in seventh period anyway, so we might as well go together.¡±


    ¡°I told you not to call me that.¡±


    ¡°Oh right¡­my bad.  Maxie it is then.¡±


    ¡°Knock it off.¡±  I bluntly respond, opening the door to the hallway and starting down the stairs.


    The girl I¡¯m being overly curt with is Lucy, a persistent nag I¡¯ve known since elementary school, who continually refuses to use my preferred name in dialogue.  She has light brown hair, an abundance of freckles, and emerald green eyes hidden behind a robust pair of black glasses.  She stands fairly tall for a girl, but still shorter than me, thankfully, or else I would never hear the end of it.  Despite being frequently annoyed by her, Lucy persists as the only human that I am able to tolerate for longer than ten minutes without wanting to fill my ears with cement.  I¡¯m unsure as to why she persists as an exception to my routine disregard for interpersonal interaction, but I cannot deny my innate inclinations.


    ¡°Did you watch Black Clover yet? The animation in that one scene was amazing!¡± Lucy excitedly exclaims.


    ¡°It was alright, but you could tell where they cut corners in the background.   Doesn¡¯t really compare to Ufotable¡¯s works or anything.¡±


    ¡°You pay too close attention to the little things, Maxie.  It¡¯s really just about enjoying the scene as a whole.¡±


    ¡°You think so?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the best way to live life, don¡¯tcha think?¡± Lucy replies rhetorically, making brief eye contact before opening the door at the bottom of the staircase.


    We arrive at our seventh period class, Calculus, and are insincerely greeted by Mrs. Ashford with an anxious tone.  I sit in my seat and prepare for the daily warmup problem, while Lucy fills her chair, next to mine of course.  I successfully apply the mathematical knowledge I garnered yesterday to the almost identical problem presented to me and following the established trend of my life, receive no fulfillment or feeling of accomplishment upon doing so.  Much like the English lesson prior, Mrs. Ashford fails to captivate my attention with her subsequent lecture on the derivatives of inverse trigonometric functions, and I find myself lost, yet again, in the aimlessness of the clouds.  I feel a tug on my right sleeve and look over to see a somewhat perturbed Lucy, still attentive to the incessant mathematical jargon, holding a sheet of paper reading:


    Why don¡¯t you pay attention in here anymore?  I thought you liked math?


    The brunette is correct; I used to enjoy the simplistically complex logical deductions of mathematics.  I¡¯m not sure what changed, but regardless, I ignore the analytical comment and return my attention to the clouds.  The condensed puffs of water vapor drift across the light blue canvas of the sky, propelled by the happenstance machinations of nature in an identical manner to the contradictory amalgamation of consciousness labelled ¡°the human race¡±.  Soon enough, the final bell rings, and the school day ends.  In the first floor hallway, I shove my books and binders into my bag at the lockers outside of Mrs. Ashford¡¯s room and receive a follow up to the analytical comment, verbally this time.


    ¡°Hey, don¡¯t ignore what I asked.  I know you read it!¡±  Lucy demands through brief gasps for air caused by her speedy trek from room 101 to her locker on the second floor and back.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.  School¡¯s just boring, I guess.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re hopeless, Max,¡± she sighs, clearly frustrated by my nonplussed response.


    ¡°Using my actual name?  That¡¯s uncommon,¡± I spitefully remark.


    Small bits of red fill her freckle-covered cheeks, as she replies, ¡°Well...it''s because I really do think you¡¯re a moron.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, me too sometimes,¡± I faintly agree through a slight but genuine chuckle.


    Lucy stops speaking abruptly and eyes me for a moment with her emerald irises.


    ¡°You should smile more, Max,¡± she finally chimes.  ¡°It suits you better.¡±


    With that intrusive statement lingering in the air about us, the bundle of energy takes off, headed towards the unfathomable possibilities of reality alongside her actual friends, who were impatiently waiting at the entrance of the school.  Following this ambiguous interaction, I leave campus, beginning my fifteen-minute walk home of silence, as thoughts race through my clouded mind.


    Suits me better than what?  Why do I find school so time consumingly boring? Why don¡¯t I enjoy anything anymore?  Is there something wrong with me?


    Instinctively, I push the recurring introspective thoughts from my mind and instead, put in earbuds to think about as little as possible during my routinely monotonous homebound journey.  Finally arriving at the house, I give my Uncle an obligatory greeting and slowly trudge up the stairs, as the thoughts from before return to my mind, now unstimulated by music.  Inevitably, I am unable to escape myself.  Laying in bed rewatching The Garden of Sinners for the seventh time, I pretend not to notice my phone ring, until eventually caving to the obnoxiously catchy tone.


    ¡°Have you finished the chem¡¯ yet?  I saw you working on it at school earlier?¡± Lucy¡¯s voice immediately pleads through the iPhone.


    ¡°I have.¡± I monotonically reply, annoyed by the frequency of this question.


    ¡°You know I don¡¯t understand that stuff, Maxie.  Please send it to me?¡±


    ¡°Fine.¡±


    I hang up and send an image of the assignment to the suppliant.  I suppose the act is immoral, but morality pervades subjectivity anyway.  I turn off my phone, lay back in bed, and return to my thoughts, keeping the anime paused.  The room assumes immotion, as the light of the setting sun pierces my window and fills my vision.  Stillness.  I had forgotten how much I adored this feeling.  No sound.  No movement.  Simple nothingness in a reality crowded by excess.  The unnecessarily strenuous existence of my life slowly drifts to the back of my mind, and I attain a slight feeling of content for the first time today.  The unremarkable emotion brings a smile to my face, as sleep gradually encompasses my reality.


    Having acquired what feels like an ample amount of rest, I slowly open my eyes, curious as to why my alarm is not awaking me.  Greeted by complete darkness, I realize my complete ignorance of my surroundings.  I slide my fingertips against the floor and assume the environment to be some sort of cave due to the smooth terrain and overall dankness of the atmosphere.  Obviously, I have no idea how I got here.


    ¡°What the hell?¡±  I quietly whisper to myself in confusion.


    ¡°A fair question,¡± a mysterious voice calls back.


    Now, in a normal situation, I try to avoid interpersonal interaction as much as realistically possible; however, as can easily be deduced, this is not a routine scenario.  Formulating this astute realization in the recesses of my mind, I decide to converse with whomever this person is to figure out what happened to me and why my environment persists so lightlessly foreign.


    ¡°Who are you?¡±  I inquire into the dark nothingness before me.  ¡°Where am I?¡±


    ¡°Two more fair questions.  You¡¯re just full of them!¡±  It mockingly taunts back.


    ¡°I fall asleep in my bed and wake up in complete darkness to an ambiguously sarcastic voice.  Great way to start off the day,¡± I speak aloud to myself, filled with frustration by my unexpected circumstances.


    ¡°Aww, boo hoo.  Am I that bad?¡± The voice, which I can now tell is feminine, retorts through laughter.  ¡°Fine then, I was gettin¡¯ bored anyway.¡±


    ¡°Your boredom has nothing to do with me.  How do I get out of here?¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t really get out of ¡®here¡¯ since ¡®here¡¯ isn¡¯t actually a place, but I¡¯ve enjoyed talking to this you so far, so I¡¯m gonna keep doing it; no matter how pissy you may be.  Anyhoo, Max-i-milian, do you understand who you are? Or should I say, how special?¡±  The voice speaks with absurdly fast enunciation, pronouncing each syllable of my name individually.


    ¡°How do you know¡­¡®special¡¯?  What are you talking about?¡±


    Now the voice is starting to make even less sense.  How does it know my name?  What does special mean?  I¡¯m not special; no one is.  An individual human lacks intrinsic value compared to the societal detriments they bring about.  Specifically, I lack motivation, I¡¯m poor at athletics, I can¡¯t effectively perform complex tasks such as music or art, and most of all, I¡¯m unable to comfortably subsist through regular social interaction: the hallmark of value for my species.  There is nothing special or extraneous about me even by lenient human standards, and, more importantly, I am untroubled with that state of being.  I have no desire to appease the cowardly construct of mankind¡¯s society or to move forward in any self-serving capacity.  I continue to exist in this middling status of a mundane life in a state of content.


    ¡°You really don¡¯t know who I am??  I guess he actually did figure it out!  This ought to be interesting!¡±  She chimes, again, through laughter.


    ¡°You¡¯re annoying.¡±


    ¡°Is that so?  I¡¯m glad I¡¯m succeeding in my objective, then.¡±


    ¡°Why do you want to annoy me?¡±


    ¡°Because you make it too easy.  Anyhoo, you wanna hear more about the stuff I¡¯m being intentionally vague about, don¡¯tcha?¡±


    ¡°Not really.  I just want to go home.¡±  I curtly reply, reaching my social limit.


    ¡°Alright, alright, fine, I¡¯ll get to it then.  So, Maxie sweetie-¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t call me Maxie,¡± I interject.


    ¡°Right, sorry, so Maxie...¡± the voice continues, ignoring my interjection.  ¡°In layman¡¯s terms, you¡¯re a vessel.¡±  She says, instantly replacing her smug attitude with a sincere tone.


    ¡°I¡¯m really not interested in joining a cult, lady.  What do you want?¡±


    ¡°Would you just listen?¡± she vexedly responds, continuing her explanation.  ¡°As for what¡¯s going to possess you, that¡¯s a bit more complicated.  I suppose the best way for you to look at it¡­is as another you.  Or more accurately, just you.¡±


    ¡°Right¡­so I¡¯m going to possess me?¡±  I conjecture her explanation skeptically.


    ¡°You¡¯re still looking at it wrong.  You were ¡®possessed¡¯ the day that you were born, but possessed isn¡¯t really the right word for it.  It¡¯s more like an overwhelming subconscious influence¡­¡± she pauses for a moment before continuing.  ¡°That¡¯s just a roundabout to reincarnation through some very strange magecraft.¡±


    What the hell is this woman talking about?  Reincarnation?  Overwhelming subconscious influence?  Magecraft?  Nothing of the sort exists outside of fiction.  Overlooking the absurdity of the concepts alone, there¡¯s no way I¡¯m the reincarnation of someone.  I decide to express these immediate thoughts plainly,


    ¡°You¡¯re crazy.  Take me home.¡±


    ¡°You still haven¡¯t figured it out?  I thought you¡¯d continue to be smart, even after dying.¡±


    ¡°Stop talking in riddles; it explains nothing.  What is going on?¡±


    ¡°This is a neural link, you dolt.  I have told you the truth, though, so don¡¯t forget what I said,¡± the voice finally provides a semblance of exposition through her caustic words.


    ¡°Wha-¡±


    A sharp pain runs up and down my spine, as my brain begins to throb.  I attempt to yell but feel only agony and hear nothing.  I am able to viscerally discern the blood pulsating through all of the veins in my body, as my consciousness itself rattles in the cage of my skull.  This state of being persists for eternity, until I jolt to life, finding myself upright in bed.  Unable to catch my breath, I grip my face and begin to violently tremble, encompassed by an inexplicable fear and harsh frigidity.  I continue to quiver, uncontrollably, for what feels like hours.  Eventually, an intense catharsis rings throughout my body, ceasing both the terror and ague, as I begin to piece together what has occurred seemingly within my mind.  If what the voice told me is true, I have been possessed by a previous version of myself since my birth.


    ¡°What the fuck was that?¡±  I question the isolated surroundings of my room.


    I lie awake in bed for the remaining four hours until my alarm goes off, consumed by thoughts regarding ¡°the neural link¡±.


    Beep Beep Beep


    The alarm blares continually, as I remain awake and lost in thought.  None of the voice¡¯s story feels real, but at the same time, I somehow know it to be.


    Is this the subconscious whatever thing?  I question my own thoughts.


    ¡°Bingo.¡±  The voice from the dream echoes through my mind.


    ¡°Get out of my head,¡±  I say aloud, quickly understanding the situation.


    ¡°Whaaaaaaat??  No shocked reaction?? No panicked state?? Nothing??¡±  She, ironically, exasperatedly inquires of me.  ¡°How boring.¡±


    ¡°Out,¡±  I repeat myself.


    ¡°Well, I guess this is kind of out?¡±  She hesitantly claims, as a flash of light fills my room.


    ¡°What do you-¡±  I begin to question while getting out of bed, pausing upon fully opening my eyes.


    A comely, slender woman with long, silver hair sits atop the desk across from me.  Her pale gray eyes glisten in the sunlight piercing through the window, as she gazes into my pupils with a smug smile to match the spunky voice from my dream.  Adorned on her is a deep black dress with short sleeves to contrast her notably pale skin, and her left leg hangs off the edge of the table with her right tucked tightly behind it.  Her pastel skin bears no blemishes aside from a deep, horizontal scar across her left kneecap, and a pair of dark gray knee-high socks cover the lower half of her sylphlike legs down to her simplistically noir shoes.  The image, or better yet: her image, is ingrained into my mind, as I am unable to fixate my gaze upon anything but the enchanting woman before me.


    ¡°Quit your gawking, creep,¡±  she harshly demands, as her ears and cheeks grow slightly red.  ¡°It¡¯s strange, considering¡­¡±


    ¡°Considering what?¡±  I ask, reentering reality.


    ¡°Well, first of all, you¡¯re the only one that can see or hear me right now.  Second, I¡¯ve known the¡­¡± the plausible lunatic hesitates.  ¡°The old you, which is really just more or less you, for a long time.  And third, it makes me uncomfortable, so stop.¡±


    ¡°Yeah yeah, I stopped gawking,¡± I annoyedly reply full of embarrassment.  ¡°So¡­what do you mean by old me?¡±


    ¡°As you¡¯re likely already aware from our previous conversation, it¡¯s difficult to explain,¡± she pauses, scratching her head.  ¡°Alright, so magic, like spells and mana and all that from humanity¡¯s science fiction and fantasy, is real, but just to a select few individuals.  You and I are a part of the aforementioned few, although our situations are a bit different, seeing how you have no idea what I¡¯m talking about and all.¡±


    ¡°Uh-huh...you expect me to believe this?  How did you even get in my house?¡±  I ask, deciding to feign skepticism despite illogically accepting every word she speaks as fact.


    ¡°Dumbass, I can hear your thoughts.  I know you believe me.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s weird.  Don¡¯t do that,¡± I quickly reply with genuine discomfort.  ¡°Well, Miss Intruder, what should I call you?¡±


    ¡°To have forgotten my name??  How unpleasant,¡± she bitterly replies.  ¡°It¡¯s Nidaba.¡±


    For logic unbeknownst to myself, I can easily accept Nidaba¡¯s outlandish story as accurate.  I feel an inexplicable level of innate trust towards her now that I¡¯ve actually laid eyes on her; an inclination I assume to be the ¡®overwhelming subconscious influence¡¯ she mentioned earlier, impacting my actions through my emotions and innate feelings.  The monotonous reality I had grown accustomed to begins to crumble about me, as questions continue to arise within my mind,


    Reincarnation?  Why tell me this now?  What does this mean?


    ¡°Max,¡± Nidaba stares through my eyes, as she interrupts my thoughts with her words, pulling me out of my head.  ¡°Calm down, you¡¯re fine.  You¡¯ve absorbed enough modern fiction to understand all of this fairly easily.  Our magecraft isn¡¯t much different from the usual interpretation of magic.  I mean...fictional ideas have to come from somewhere, right?  We can just influence elements, states of matter, and some other stuff.  No biggie.¡±


    ¡°Right.  No biggie,¡± I comment sarcastically.  ¡°Anyway, why¡¯d you say I¡¯m the only one who can see and hear you or whatever?¡±


    ¡°Because I¡¯m not actually there right now.  Your predecessor trusted me to ensure you don¡¯t do anything stupid, so I can check in on you like this through a spell he placed on his...well your brain,¡± Nidaba confidently brags.  ¡°Sorta like a video chat, but I¡¯m actually there, more or less.¡±


    ¡°Fantastic,¡± I facetiously reply, getting out of bed.  ¡°I gotta get dressed for school, so can you leave?¡±


    ¡°Adorable as ever, Maxie,¡± she cheerfully proclaims to me, vanishing in an instant.


    I immediately throw together my uniform and hurry out the door, beginning my walk to school.  Despite Nidaba¡¯s lack of appearance throughout the subsequent academic day, a strange occurrence happened that further inclines me to believe in the proclaimed mage¡¯s absurd story.  While unsuccessfully forcing binders into my bag at the end of fourth period, everything and everyone around me froze.  Extremely confused, I scanned my surroundings to notice my peers seemingly paused mid-stride and the normally ticking clock motionless above the whiteboard.  After around five seconds, everything resumed as if the immotion were routine, and I was left appalled by the apparent glitch in reality.  Other than said oddity, the day carried on, as any usual Friday would, with various homework assignments and a plethora of social annoyances.  After the school day ends, Lucy enlists me against my will to assist her in one of her most daunting responsibilities as class representative: cleaning our homeroom afterschool on Fridays.  As I scrub the black residue from the whiteboard in the classroom, the menial questioning from the day before resumes.


    ¡°Soooo, if math bores you so devastatingly much now, then what¡¯s your favorite class?  Which one d¡¯you look forward to the most, I guess?¡±  Lucy clarifies while sweeping the floor with a broom behind me.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t say I look forward to any of ¡®em really.  School, work, life...none of it has a true purpose.  A reason for existence beyond the arbitrary standards we humans set for ourselves.  There is no overarching tale for this rock spinning adrift in space about a star.  Nothing beyond the mundane and regularized passage of time within the needlessly strenuous subsistence of modern society.¡±


    ¡°Sheeeesh.  You say some depressing stuff, Max,¡± the brunette responds to my answer, her eyes subtly shifting from the dusty floor to the back of my head.


    ¡°The way I see it, the definitions of ¡®depressing¡¯ and ¡®realistic¡¯ are more or less the same to most people,¡± I reply, slightly annoyed by the onset of this discussion.  ¡°I¡¯m not sad or anything.  I just see existence for what it really is.¡±


    ¡°...I don¡¯t know how to respond to that,¡± Lucy speaks after a brief moment of silence with a cathartic sadness filling her words.


    ¡°Then don¡¯t.  I don¡¯t need your sympathy,¡± I end our short conversation with a single statement.


    Eventually, we complete our cleaning duties and start down the stairs of the second floor into the central area of the building.  I turn left from the entrance of the school, intent on taking the long route to avoid conversing with Lucy any further.  She turns right without a word and slowly moves away from me with each stride.  Soon, the eerie quiet of the unpopulated urban streets encompasses my attention, and I begin to escalate my pace without a solidified rationale.  As I near the park directly between my Uncle¡¯s house and the school, the yellow sun begins to approach my horizon line, crowded by countless buildings.  The squeaking of my shoes against the pavement.  The occasional chirping of a bird nested in the trees planted within the concrete jungle about me.  The slight gushing of the cold wind against my person.  Isolation fills my surroundings, as the ambiguous feeling of content returns to me.  Not happiness and not sadness.  An empty feeling of anticipation for what may come next.  Suddenly, I feel an ominous pressure shatter this tone and instantly become encompassed by overwhelming and inexplicable fear.


    ¡°Anki,¡±  a deep and raspy voice calls out to me, the sound emanating from all directions.


    Terror swells within every fiber of my being, and I begin to feel tears well in my eyes.  My knees buckle due to an acute urtication in my joints.  I stumble to the ground of the sidewalk in a daze, clutching my chest.  I can¡¯t breathe.  Despite this abruptly overwhelming ruination of my person, the fear is not genuine, for I have no idea who or what is speaking to me.  The reaction feels almost instinctual, as I begin to speak to myself, somehow hoping for a response from Nidaba,


    ¡°What is going on?¡±


    No response.  No voluptuously smug woman.  No sarcastic remark.  The mysterious man, having realized my despair, reveals himself to me.  The individual wears pure black robes and has dark, shaggy hair.  His face holds two deep red eyes, extremely chapped lips, and pointed elf-like ears.  His figure is at least thirty centimeters taller than mine and has a frightening presence about it.  The man steps out from the shadows slowly and speaks in a booming voice,


    ¡°I must say¡­¡± he begins, curiously eyeing me.  ¡°I¡¯m disappointed.  What happened to you?¡±


    ¡°I have no idea who you are or what you wa-¡± I attempt to reason with the man but am quickly cut off.


    ¡°I really don¡¯t care, Anki,¡± he indifferently sighs, emphasizing the name.  ¡°Whether you recall or not, it is my duty to ensure you don¡¯t come back like this again.  Anu¡¯s word is law.¡±


    The implications of his statement ring throughout my mind, as he slowly starts towards me.  Death seems imminent to me at this point, but the fear from before is gone and in its place, an odd tranquility.


    ¡°The end¡­¡± I faintly mumble, collecting my thoughts while attempting to stand.  ¡°I wonder¡­¡±


    Water begins to pour from the sky, as the calm, cloudy afternoon morphs into a boisterously rainy evening.  Four handleless blades of wholly transparent liquid form around the man set to claim my life, and as I begin to feel a surge of raw energy all around me, I finish my question.


    ¡°I wonder what it¡¯s like¡­to conclude?¡±


    As if from a cannon, the blades fire in unison and fly in my direction, but in an instant, they stop, along with the man who summoned them.  Further, the rain itself freezes in mid air, and I alone sit on the wet sidewalk, gasping for air.  From the moment the space around me grew still until now, an incomparable feeling of agony has thundered within my skull, violently stimulating what feels like my entire nervous system.  The blood rushing through my veins lingers with an excruciating toxicity, as every inch of my body begins to wilt, like a dying flower.  The concentration, willpower, and effort exuding from me now far surpasses any amount of menial focus I have garnered in my previous eighteen years of existence.  I fight through the pain and continue to utilize the innate power I was unaware of until now, knowing if I stop, the blades will instantly pierce and kill me.  I attempt to crawl away, while maintaining my concentration but am only able to rise to my knees to face the spell cast upon me.  My mind, almost without me, decides the only solution to my predicament is to somehow summon Nidaba, but I, a novice in ¡®magecraft¡¯, have no idea how to do such a thing.  Before I let myself feel disheartened by my ignorance, my mouth begins to speak in a language I don¡¯t understand, as energy, not unlike the surge from before, flows out of me.


    Through a continuation of the spell I don¡¯t comprehend, Nidaba somehow materializes to my left.  Her silver hair held in a messy bun and piercing gray eyes manifest in accordance with my will, frozen in time like everything else.  The summoning sends a previously unfathomable level of pain through my mind, as the suffering encompassing my existence intensifies even further.  In spite of the pervasively overwhelming physical agony, the sudden appearance of Nidaba¡¯s figure allows a slight sense of ease to enter my injured being.  She is wearing a purple dress, similar to the one from our previous conversation in my room, and just like then, I become entranced by her appearance.  Regardless of her inability to move, the mage¡¯s mere presence brings a misplaced relief about me, as I lose my focus and lifelessly collapse to the ground onto my right shoulder, hearing the blades whiz through the air centimeters above me and the continuation of rain pouring against the pavement.  A brief pause ensues with both Nidaba and the man looking equally confused, as I writhe in agony on the ground, the pain having caused blood to seep from my eyes, nose, and mouth.  A prodigiously deafening noise aggressively raps against the doors of my eardrums.  All other sound within the environment is overwhelmed by the incessant ringing in my skull, which seeks to splinter the already throbbing headache permeating my brain.  I subsist in this state of sheer, unrelenting suffering, and the two mages finally begin to understand what exactly has occurred before their eyes.


    ¡°Maxie?¡± Nidaba begins with concern in her voice.  ¡°Normally, I would tell you not to use teleportation magic hastily like this, but I¡¯m starting to piece the situation together.¡±


    ¡°Nidaba.  Step away from that boy,¡± the man threatens angrily.


    ¡°Well, you see, Nergal, I would, but...¡± Nidaba, in a more forebodingly confident voice responds, while letting her hair down.  ¡°I made a promise to Max, and I intend to keep it,¡± she pauses briefly.  ¡°Whether he remembers or not!¡±


    Upon speaking those words, Nidaba¡¯s aura intensifies radically, and a devilish smile appears across her face, as her pure, argent hair begins to loosely float above her shoulders.  She begins to speak in words without meaning to me, likely the same language I used to summon her earlier, and assumes a strangely unbalanced stance with a visibly violet aura about her.   A single dual-bladed knife, no longer than a ruler, materializes in her hand, and as she holds it, covering the bottom half of her face, she begins to chant another spell, faintly now.  Energy continues to surge throughout the area, as the rain endlessly pours about the entire scene.  I can feel the current of power in the environment course through not only the air but the surrounding buildings, trees, and even animals; however, making all other surges seem faint, the energy collecting around Nidaba ripples violently with chaotic instability, prepared to burst at any given moment.


    ¡°What is this?¡± I barely manage to speak.


    Struggling to lift my head from the puddle of rain, tears, spit, and blood, I catch a glimpse of the silver-haired heroine, who came to my rescue.  Despite the immense pain, fear, and confusion rattling within my body at that moment, I find myself in unforeseen awe of Nidaba, as a clash between two living beings, like nothing I had seen before, ensues before my blood stained eyes.


    ¡°That¡¯s a bold statement, Nidaba,¡± the man speaks for the first time in a while.  ¡°Do you truly intend to protect this boy from all of us?  Even if I fai-¡±


    ¡°I think it¡¯s about time,¡± Nidaba begins to proclaim angrily, cutting the man off.  ¡°That you shut the hell up!¡±


    With that one sentence, both magi disappear instantly, as the surrounding air is filled with the clashing of Nidaba¡¯s knife and Nergal¡¯s blades of liquid.  Effortlessly dodging and deflecting projectile after projectile, the silver-haired mage expertly maneuvers towards the now back-pedaling Nergal.  Barely able to track them with my eyes, I begin to collect my exhausted being and attempt to stand once more, thinking to myself in a panic,


    I teleported her here.  She is risking her life to protect me.  I have to help her.


    Amassing the pitiful amount of strength and willpower that remains within my decimated person, I rise to my feet and allow my subconscious to overtake my mind.  Suppressing every other form of thought from my head and disregarding the horrendous pain cascading throughout my entire body, I muster the apex of my concentration and begin to feel energy, not unlike Nidaba¡¯s, surge out of the integral fabric of my consciousness.  Instantaneously, my vision loses color.  The pain is unbearable, but I must persevere.  I wipe the blood and tears still flowing from my eyes and fixate my gaze upon the two clashing magi.  Nidaba spins in the air, avoiding countless blades of water, as she continues to position herself closer to Nergal.  She quickly drops from the sky, places her noir shoes atop the concrete once more, and begins to sprint towards Nergal at an inhuman velocity, as the man in black robes continues to discharge hydro spell after hydro spell, while continually retreating.  The dutiful mage¡¯s attempts at combat pale in comparison to the silver-haired woman¡¯s uncannily timed evasions and incredibly rapid offensive movements, and realizing this, Nergal begins to grow more and more desperate with each attack.  Words in a foreign tongue emanate from my mouth, holding no real meaning to me, as the surge of colorless energy intensifies uncontrollably.  Just as I am about to release whatever is stockpiling inside me, Nergal notices and reacts to my unfinished expulsion spell.  Four blades of liquid form from the rain behind the female mage and launch in my direction quickly.  Not unlike my predicament a few moments ago, I feel no fear at the prospect of death and rather, welcome it with an estranged comfort.  Nidaba, noticing the actions of both Nergal and I, springs off the ground upwards of ten meters, quickly landing in front of me and blocking all four blades with her obsidian knife in an instantaneous fluid motion.  Due to the overwhelming feeling of exhaustion gripping my mind in this moment and the urgency of the threat before us, I fall onto my side, the only effective movement I can make to get Nidaba out of my field of vision, and release the stockpiled energy, hoping to stop Nergal somehow.  As I release the energy from my right hand, the rush of unbearable agony ceases, as a blank nothingness overcomes what little concentration remained within me.  I feel my consciousness slip from my control, as I plummet into an expansive abyss.  Alone.


    I lay, unable to move, at the bottom of a cold and dark pit.  I feel as though I¡¯m surrounded by water and yet am able to breathe perfectly.  The dark emptiness consumes me for an incalculable amount of time, until memories begin to flash through my mind.  I see various images, scenes, and people that I do not know, but frequently within these memories is Nidaba¡¯s face.  Her smile.  Her laugh.  Her voice.  Her eyes.  Her eccentric whimsicality.  The memories are not my own, yet they exist in my mind as if they were.  Pain begins to resurface along my nerves.  The agony begins in my head but soon spreads throughout the entirety of my nervous system.  I remain at the bottom of this memory-filled pit, cold and alone, but as I begin to succumb to the darkness and allow it to ravage my mind, a faint voice calls out to me, slowly growing in volume.


    ¡°...Max!  Max!  Maxie!  WAKE UP MAX!¡±  The voice finally bellows.


    I return to my body, limp in the street as the rain continues to pour, pattering against my numb face and the solid ground alike.  A familiar yet novel warmth engrosses my person, and I remain held upright by slim yet sturdy arms, dazed and confused.


    ¡°You reckless IDIOT,¡±  Nidaba insults me through tears that I can barely see using my blurry, unstable vision.  ¡°I would have killed him anyway!  You didn¡¯t¡­¡±  she stammers, struggling to speak through exhausted breath and sobbing.  ¡°Not again, I can¡¯t lose you again.¡±


    Sitting on the paved concrete, holding me close to her warm yet drenched person, Nidaba continues to cry.  Her words, although confusing, solace my troubled mind, as I attempt and fail to smile and speak.  I want to comfort her.  I want to help.  She is crying because of me, causing both self-serving joy and empathetic sadness to fill my emotions.  Outside of my control, my eyes drift into the back of my skull, and my entire body aches with unfathomable pain.  Unable to formulate or speak any words and barely holding on to consciousness, my limp body remains in Nidaba¡¯s arms in the middle of the street, a reminiscent feeling of comfort foreign to me.  Her aromatic scent, masked by the heavy downpour.  Her euphonious voice, frailly sobbing under the now violent downpour.  Her brilliant warmth piercing the bitter and empty cold within me.  I feel happy.  Happy to be in her arms.


    Soon, I reenter the pit of meaningless memories, but instead of succumbing to the darkness like before, I feel a purpose.  A reason to subsist, to persevere, to live.  I yearn to speak with Nidaba again; an enigmatic desire that I am unable to suppress.  I must have been close with her in my previous life, which I suppose I also have to fully accept as true now.  Within the pit, I scour my rattled mind in search of a tangible memory that belongs to this me to ensure the individual that I have existed as for the past eighteen years is real, and simply due to their prominence in shaping the conscious amalgamation of sensory details I know as ¡°myself¡±, memories of my parents surface within my mind¡¯s eye.


    It was a sunny day, the temperature was projected to be 23oC, and the air was thickly humid.  I recollect it perfectly; I always have.  The incident wasn¡¯t cataclysmic.  There was no ingenious machination to bring about their downfall¡ªonly their child.  We were walking to the parking lot after eating dinner, and I, as a moronic eleven-year-old, ran ahead, recklessly crossing the street.  My mother called after me, warning me to be careful.  I turned to see her chasing behind me.  The scarlet-orange scene lit by the setting sun, imprinted unto my naive eyes in holistic vividity.  My mother ran across the street after me.  A car sped along the road.  The harsh sound of tires skidding against the road, attempting and failing to stop the vehicle¡¯s velocity shattered the tranquil scene.  My gaze was shot upwards, as time seemed to halt its course, leaving the wounded body of my mother suspended three meters in the air.  The gruesomely nauseating sound of the ruptured fragmentation of innumerable bones upon her gravitationally accelerated return to the ground alongside the petrified expression adorned across the woman¡¯s face haunted my adolescent mind for years.  Blood began to seep from her entire person, creating a large pool of red ichor about the corpse plastered on the street, as my mother laid lifelessly still.  Shock and guilt overwhelmed my mind.  A year passed, and my father, unable to forgive his own son or perhaps simply consumed by depression and loss, took his own life.  I found him hanging from a noose in their bedroom, pictures of his beloved spouse scattered around his bloated, purple corpse, swaying back and forth from the momentum that choked his life away.  I¡¯ve lived with my familyless Uncle Bennett ever since.  Alone.  Always alone.  My body, motionless within the dark nothingness, begins to stumble into cognizance, as I speak,


    ¡°Mom.  Dad.  They died...because of me.¡±


    I awaken, aware that I spoke aloud and immediately rise to scan my surroundings.  I¡¯m back in my room, likely brought here by Nidaba, but regardless, the words spoken earlier rattle my fragile state of being.  Whether intentional or not, they carry the truth, and now, knowing everything Nidaba has told me alongside all that I have recently experienced, I begin to wonder if the past is mutable.  Immediately, I push the horrible idea from my mind.  I¡¯ve seen and read far too much science fiction to idiotically challenge the fourth dimension.  The inescapable and acutely familiar cold loneliness returns after I check my clock and lay back in bed, still yearning for some form of contact with Nidaba.  I have to thank her and, more so, simply desire to speak with her.  This feeling is unknown to me, for I¡¯ve never truly wanted to see or interact with another person since the death of my parents.  Images of the silver-haired woman in between the faces of my parental figures flash through my mind, as I remain awake through the night, unable to rest physically or mentally.


    I subsist in this state, basqued in the eerie silence of my room, motionless yet conscious, staring at the ceiling for hours before finally moving for the first time since my encounter with Nergal, who may or may not be dead at this point.  Standing, walking, sitting, breathing, and basically any other standard human function causes a throbbing headache to ring between my ears and sends jolts of pain up and down my spine.


    Why does everything hurt so much?  I ask myself, half expecting and half hoping to hear a response from Nidaba within my head.


    Nothing.  It¡¯s irksome not being able to contact her, but I guess I don¡¯t really need her for anything specific anyway.  I¡¯m still extremely confused by what she told me and what occurred Friday night.  The preconceived monotonous reality I had grown accustomed to has been shattered by the fantastical descriptions and interactions I¡¯ve had with Nidaba and Nergal.


    This feels like a fantasy story or something,  I think to myself.


    ¡°I told you it was like fictional magecraft, didn¡¯t I?¡±  Nidaba¡¯s voice echoes in my mind, bringing a sudden and overwhelming relief over me.


    ¡°Why can¡¯t I see you?¡±  I immediately inquire.


    ¡°Why do you wa-¡± she begins before I interrupt.


    ¡°I¡¯d like to see the person I¡¯m talking to.¡±


    ¡°Alright alright, if it¡¯s that important, you weirdo,¡± she insults me, as a flash of light fills the room.


    Before me appears Nidaba, wearing the same black dress as the first time I met her with her hair held up similarly to Friday night.  Her cheeks are filled with small bits of red, as she scratches the side of her face with an uncomfortable expression.  She¡¯s as captivating as ever.  Outside of the conscious control I hold over my emotions, a small smile fills my face.


    ¡°Stop thinking weird things!¡±  She stammers through a now flustered expression.  ¡°I told you, I can read your thoughts.¡±


    ¡°Stop reading them if you don¡¯t wanna hear ¡®em then¡±


    ¡°Stubborn as ever,¡± the mage rolls her eyes.  ¡°Regardless, it¡¯s not as easy to tune you out as you may thi-¡±  She abruptly stops herself, as her entire face turns red and her gray eyes widen.  ¡°Max, what the hell?!?! STOP?!¡±  She exclaims, covering her ears and tucking her face inbetween her knees.


    ¡°What are you...there is nothing that strange in my head??¡±  I quickly defend myself.


    ¡°Then why is it in mine, jackass??¡±  She angrily questions me, lifting her head to make eye contact while revealing her disgruntled expression.  ¡°Whatever, just try to tone it down, pervert.¡±


    ¡°Yeah...my bad,¡±  I unsuredly apologize, still not aware of what she¡¯s upset about.  ¡°Anyway, do you just wait for an opportunity to interject into my thoughts before appearing?¡±


    ¡°Not exactly...¡±  Nidaba playfully answers through laughter, her mood fluctuating like the weather.  ¡°Okay, maybe a little.  I actually like listening in on your thoughts, though.  They¡¯re...intriguing¡­to say the least.¡±


    ¡°Riiight, and I¡¯m the creep,¡± I sarcastically comment in reference to her earlier accusation.


    ¡°Here I was assuming you¡¯d be confused by or at least curious about what happened with Nergal,¡± she speaks facetiously and looks away from me.  ¡°But here you are, grumpy as always.  I guess I¡¯ll just keep that information to myself.¡±


    ¡°Okay okay, if you insist,¡± I realign my focus to the elephant in the room.  ¡°In all seriousness, what the fuck is going on?¡±


    ¡°Well, the you prior to performing the reincarnation spell eighteen years ago may or may not have broken a few rules of magecraft, while simultaneously pissing off a very important person.  Regarding the reincarnation though, I¡¯d think of it more as ¡®who were you?¡¯ rather than ¡®who are you?¡¯.  You may recall a few things here and there, but even if you do reclaim the past you¡¯s memories, you¡¯ll still be you, and not the Max that I knew.  You didn¡¯t experience his life, even if you can remember it, and it¡¯s important to keep that in mind.  Seeing how you don¡¯t recall anything about and hardly even look like the Maximilian from the past, the key truly lies in the essence of being, which can better be described as the root of your existence.¡±


    ¡°Okay¡­I think I understand?¡± I idiotically begin without having anything else to say.


    ¡°Maximilian was, and apparently still is, a mage, whom I knew for a very long time.  Us magi are immune to the degradation of telomeres at the ends of our chromosomes and thus, have been around for a while.  We can still be killed though, so immortality isn¡¯t the right term.¡±


    ¡°Wait wait wait, so I will never die of old age?¡±


    ¡°Weeeeeeell, I¡¯m not so sure about you given your novelly unique circumstances, but you¡¯re definitely not a pure human nor are you a pure mage.  No one has ever achieved reincarnation magic until you, Max, so we have to go off of assumption and conjecture more than anything else.  I genuinely have no idea how you work, but regardless, the old you left me with these words: ¡®I won¡¯t remember anything, at first, so I leave myself in your hands.¡¯  Neat, huh?¡±  The mage almost excitedly inquires, laughing through her almost perfect impression of my voice.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure if neat is the word I¡¯d use,¡± I respond to her question.  ¡°But it¡¯s definitely interesting.  If you don¡¯t mind my asking, how old are you?¡±


    ¡°Maximilian?!  Did they not teach you manners at that human school??¡±  She smugly and sarcastically replies to my rude inquiry, turning her head to the left at an upward angle.  ¡°Never ask a woman her age!¡±


    ¡°But you said tha-¡±  I begin to defend myself but am interrupted yet again.


    ¡°Relax, I just enjoy poking fun at this society¡¯s ¡®chivalry¡¯.  A perfectly reasonable question after what I told you,¡± her words somehow comfort me, despite my complete lack of discomfort.  ¡°Hang on, I¡¯ve got it tracked somewhere in here.¡±


    Nidaba snaps her fingers, and instantaneously, a book appears in her left hand.  She begins to skim through the seemingly endless pages, until abruptly stopping at what appears to be a random paragraph.


    ¡°Let¡¯s see¡­¡±  Her words trail off, as her eyes begin to scan the page back and forth rapidly.  ¡°Here it is! Just shy of sixty-five million human years.¡±


    ¡°SIXTY-FIVE MILLION???¡±  I accidently exclaim, somewhat worried that Nidaba will grow angry.  ¡°I...sorry.  I just wasn¡¯t expecting it to be that high?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s all good, Maxie.  I don¡¯t really mind.  I mean...I can read your thoughts, so I know what you think about my appearance anyway,¡± she smugly replies with a devious smile.


    I feel my face grow hot, as I attempt to retort her implication, scratching my head and avoiding eye contact, ¡°Well, I uhh¡­¡± I begin but soon realize the futility of my attempted deception.  ¡°Whatever.¡±


    The silver-haired woman bursts into laughter and proclaims, ¡°I think I might like this you more than the old one.  You¡¯re not as stiff and much less sure of yourself,¡± she explains; her pale gray eyes staring through the plain brown irises of mine.


    ¡°Thanks?¡± I manage to utter through my undoubtedly embarrassed expression.  ¡°I think?  Oh, and speaking of...¡± I pause, collecting my thoughts.  ¡°Thank you, Nidaba.  You saved my life.  I don¡¯t know what I would have done if you hadn¡¯t been there.¡±


    I attempt to speak as sincerely as possible to the woman, who prevented the end of my existence less than twenty-four hours ago, and as I do, I notice genuine shock build up in her face.  The usually witty and talkative mage before me sits in silence, practically dumbfounded by my simple words.  Slowly, her confusion morphs into an overjoyed smile.  Nidaba¡¯s jovial face is ingrained into my memory once more.  The small wrinkles at the edges of her mouth.  The slight, shady bags atop her pale cheeks below her mysteriously gray eyes.  Her flawless white teeth, entrapped by rosy lips, glimmering in the morning sunlight emanating through my window.  Every minute aspect of the woman before me entrances the brevity of my attention in that moment.


    ¡°Don¡¯t mention it, Maxie,¡± the woman finally speaks and then chuckles nostalgically, while stretching her arms.  ¡°I can¡¯t even remember the last time you genuinely thanked me.  Or I guess the other you?  That makes this a first!¡±


    ¡°Nidaba, seriously.  If you ha-¡± I try to display my gratitude but am quickly cut off.


    ¡°Max,¡± Nidaba stares through me with her captivating gray eyes.  ¡°I got your back, don¡¯t sweat it.¡±


    ¡°Yeah...well, I really am grateful.¡±


    ¡°yOu¡¯Re WeLcOmE,¡± she mockingly replies, fed up with my appreciation.


    We continue to speak with each other for an extended amount of time, exchanging banterous remarks and discussing the world of magecraft alongside the past version of myself for hours.  While speaking with Nidaba, a novel feeling of momentary bliss enters my mind, regardless of the conversational topic.  The magus attempts to teach me the fundamentals of the mystical arts and how exactly magical energy and object materialization works.


    ¡°Honestly, I¡¯m amazed you were able to cast a spell at all, no less two of the most complicated time and expulsion arts,¡± Nidaba remarks.  ¡°The other...I¡¯m getting sick of calling the old you that.  Let¡¯s call him Maximilian, and I¡¯ll stick to Max or Maxie for you.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d prefer just Max.¡±


    ¡°Of course you would, Maxie,¡± she carelessly acknowledges my statement.  ¡°But I prefer Maxie.  Don¡¯t I get a say?¡±  She inquires almost suppliantly.


    ¡°It¡¯s my name, isn¡¯t it?¡±  I bitterly reply, as she sinks back into the chair at my desk.  ¡°Look, my mom called me Maxie when I was little so I just¡­¡±


    ¡°Whatever, I¡¯ll call you Max,¡± she offers in a defeated voice.  ¡°Anyway, as I was saying, Maximilian must have either implanted emergency knowledge of magecraft into your mind, or...he could have resurfaced in there somehow?  No, that¡¯s not possible, so it¡¯s gotta be the first one.¡±


    ¡°I think you¡¯re right because it all felt instinctual,¡± I begin an attempt at explaining the state of my mind in that moment.  ¡°...I saw you fighting Nergal, felt guilty for putting you in danger, and decided that I had to help you somehow.  In my mind, I didn¡¯t plan on casting some spell like I did, but obviously, it happened.¡±


    Nidaba scratches her head in thought before answering, ¡°Yeah, I think you just confirmed my theory.  I mean¡­mana itself is just the collection of one¡¯s life force, and as the reincarnation of someone, you effectively have two life forces, so the mana supply isn¡¯t the issue here.  It''s the application of a knowledge of spellcraft manipulation to said mana supply that doesn¡¯t make any sense.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t actually know what I did, so that knowledge couldn¡¯t have come from me alone,¡± I unsuredly continue.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t sell yourself short, Max,¡± Nidaba remarks with a charismatic grin.


    Our dialogue continues until the evening, at which point she claims to have plans and vanishes.  Fairly surprised by her sudden disappearance, I remain upright in bed for a moment, questioning the absurd amount of information recently packed into my brain.  This new world I was previously unaware of still feels strange and surreal, but due to my encounter with Nergal and conversations with Nidaba, doubting the existence of magic and spells seems illogical.  I, bored and in search of a reason to not study for my English test on Monday, attempt to practice casting some type of mystical art, however, am unable to replicate the buildup of energy from Friday night.  Frustrated by my inability to repeat either spell, I collapse onto my bed and lose myself within a neverending mobile game.  Eventually, the application loses my attention, and I am left alone within the frightening labyrinth of my mind, where I quickly succumb to sleep once more.

 II: Unrelenting Subsistence

    <h3 style="text-align: center">II


    My eyelids flip open outside of my conscious effort and allow my pupils to gaze upon the clock on my nightstand, reading ¡°6:37AM¡±, and understanding my exhaustion but definitive inability to drift back to sleep, I force my aching body upright and out of bed, attempting to achieve some semblance of accomplishment within the day. Waves of subtle residual pain ripple throughout my person, as the routinely blurred and colorless hue about my vision slowly starts to fade. The transition from sleep to consciousness and back again has become notably more arduous following my sporadic usage of magic and spellcraft over the past few weeks, although I suppose the same can be said for many aspects of my life in relation to said paradigm shift. As I begin to dress myself, the Thursday morning sun gradually creeps upwards, beginning to pierce through the singular window in my room, and I decide, in spite of my legal obligation of attending school, to skip my academic endeavors for the day. This lackadaisical choice at the forefront of my mind, a relaxing walk through the dull and practically empty downtown streets seems like the perfect activity to begin my day. Optimistically imagining the mundane possibilities that await me in the expansive urban outdoors, my confidence and aspiration are soon thrashed, as I envision my drunk of an Uncle blacked out on the sofa in the living room following my brief trip down the stairs.


    The sight of the man tasked with parenting me for the remainder of my upbringing has consistently muddled my thoughts and brought about an inescapable and constant awareness to what life is capable of morphing into when given consciousness. Extremely overweight and drooling from the bottom corner of his mouth, the hindrance to society subsists blankly within his perverted reality, attempting to escape whatever tribulations await him within his elusive state of sobriety. Empty beer cans are scattered about the scene and the entire room reeks of marijuana. To a degree, I understand the inclination towards numbing the body and mind as well as ignoring the arbitrarily complicated problems society thrusts upon all individuals within it; indeed, I believe it is through this connection between myself and the worthless sack of high BAC levels and microwavable dinners before me that such a depressed and defeated state is able to overwhelm my mood. I do not wish to be anything like this man, yet I feel a strong level of sympathy towards his ruined self. The scene quickly grows annoying to the point of aggravation, and I soon find myself out of the front door, repressing memories of my reincarnated family in an attempt to revert my mind to the nearly blissful state from prior this morning.


    I continue briskly walking along the sidewalk with thoughts and ideas relentlessly racing through my clouded mind, causing a subtle but painful headache to permeate my skull. A slight gust picks up a pile of dead leaves scattered about the ground, shuttling them towards a new destination for decomposition and reentry to the cycle of life. Cars infrequently drive on the road beside the sidewalk, accelerating at speeds most definitely able to end my life, given the vehicle were to swerve to the right a meter or two. Clouds drift upon the grayish image of the sky reflected into my eyes, forming completely random shapes that I am somehow able to mentally connect to objects, concepts, and people within my personal experiences in spite of their inherent lack of similarity. A squirrel rapidly scurries across the ground beside my comparably slow moving person, carrying an insignificant bundle of acorns and other nuts in preparation for an attempt at survival during the approaching winter. Nature exists around human creation. The planet and its nonhuman inhabitants care not for the achievements of man. The only factors driving the innovation of humanity forward are the constant societal pressures and normalities established by dead humans for live ones. The purpose of subsistence within this vapid construct is merely what an individual chooses it to be, nothing more and nothing less.


    ¡°Well, if you¡¯re gonna go off on a tangent involving societally introspective inquisition, then first, you have to clearly define what it is you mean by the term ¡®purpose¡¯,¡± an easily identifiable and poignantly curious voice echoes in my mind.


    ¡°You know, people usually, at the very least, show themselves before they interject into a string of thoughts,¡± I quickly reply.


    ¡°Is that so?? And just how many people do you know that can interject into your thoughts?¡± The silver haired mage inquires pompously, appearing before me in an instant with her silver hair held in a bun above the light blue blouse adorned atop her palely thin shoulders.


    ¡°Let¡¯s see now¡­¡± I rhetorically begin, sarcastically attempting to derive a list of people who fit her provided description. ¡°Nope, just the single hubristic witch.¡±


    ¡°WITCH???¡± The mage exclaims in a genuinely offended tone, smacking the side of my head due to supposed embarrassment by my choice of insult.


    ¡°OW?  What¡¯s your trauma with the word ¡®witch¡¯?¡± I question the physical assault to my skull following her sudden exclamation.


    ¡°You can be such a brute sometimes,¡± Nidaba slyly remarks, clearly unwilling to provide clarification.


    ¡°A term is a term. It only possesses the power you grant it,¡± I retort her ambiguous implication.


    ¡°Is that how you view the use of language in interpersonal dynamics?¡± The woman chimes in an entirely different voice, hurriedly side-stepping forward in a roundabout manner to face me directly with her gray eyes shimmering in the morning sunlight. ¡°Can people other than yourself not implant a certain connotation to said terms through conversation? Or are you, the oh so powerfully omniscient Maximilian, the only living being capable of formulating newfound connotations for labels to ideas?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re putting words in my mouth. I simply mean that whatever happened in your past that has caused you to dislike being called ¡®a witch¡¯ has nothing to do with my mental decision to speak said term.¡±


    ¡°Hmmm?? It¡¯s cute when you try to sound smart, sooo I¡¯ll let it slide,¡± Nidaba speaks through an almost inquisitive smile. ¡°Anyhoo, where¡¯re we headed?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going for a walk. You probably have somewhere to be soon,¡± I offhandedly tease the frequency of the mage¡¯s abrupt departures.


    ¡°Oh goodie!!¡± The woman sarcastically exclaims once I finish speaking. ¡°You¡¯re not in the middle of anything important, and you¡¯re in your usually amicable mood, so you can definitely help me with this tiny little thing I have to take care of, right?¡± She shifts her tone while speaking but implores sincerely, turning to look me in the eyes with a bright smile.


    Nidaba stands in the uncrowded and mundane streets of the urban area I have subsisted within for my entire life but with reason unbeknownst to myself, is able to holistically entrance my reality about her singular person utilizing a few arbitrary strings of vocalized syllables and an unspecific but consistently captivating facial expression. The words she speaks fall off of her lips, like she is cognizant of the specific ideas and phrases that cause me to lower my guard and truly relax in a social environment. Her curious gray eyes glimmer transcendentally, as if they fully encompassed the morning sunlight emanating from innumerable kilometers behind me. Her argent hair held in a messy bun sways in the wind, subtly beginning to fall apart due to the weak, eastbound gust from the change in pressure of the various gases about us, as she stands confidently before me with her hands held behind her back. These descriptive thoughts flood my mind with Nidaba before me, and the existential dread from earlier slowly drifts towards the back of my mind.


    ¡°Of course I¡¯ll help you, Nidaba.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re the best, Maxie,¡± she exhibits a jovial smile in my direction. ¡°So really, this tiny little thing might be a legitimate ordeal of the unsafe variety,¡± the mage continues to provide unclear exposition, while rotating one-hundred and eighty degrees.


    ¡°I figured as much. What do you need me to do?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯ll be quicker if I just show you,¡± she begins, rapidly walking ahead of me. ¡°The entrance is just over here.¡±


    ¡°Entrance?¡± I inquire within the seemingly empty streets, effortlessly attempting to catch up to the silver haired woman.


    As I turn the street corner, Nidaba re-enters my field of vision, and with a massive circle at her feet, the mage turns to me wearing a confident smile, determined to follow through with whatever scheme she has concocted. The drawn symbol where she stands seems to be of chalk, but as I slowly move closer, a different, unknown smell fills my nostrils, forcefully causing me to sneeze. Collecting myself and readjusting my vision, I move in Nidaba¡¯s direction, adhering to her hand signals directing me nearer. The bright yellow sun barely manages to peak over the scattered buildings towering about us, partially lighting the area but all the same, allowing shadows to be cast by the oversized modern constructs. One of said shades falls directly upon Nidaba, causing her body to be apportioned evenly between the dark and light aspects of the scene comprising my vision. The mage¡¯s image seems to elude the dichotomous monotony of reality itself, as she encaptures my line of sight once more, clearly prepared to begin whatever task she mentioned earlier.


    ¡°All set?¡± The witch asks, fully aware of my ignorance to what is about to occur.


    ¡°How can I be ¡®all set¡¯ if you won¡¯t tell me what I need to be ¡®all set¡¯ for?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll take that as a yes,¡± she ignores my question, as a distorted alto noise quickly growing in volume begins to overcome all other sounds in the area.


    Visibly violet energy in the form of plasma explodes from the circle about the two of us, as my vision grows increasingly whiter with every passing moment. My body begins to tingle, as a completely foreign feeling permeates my being. Rapidly and without warning, my vision becomes encompassed by an inexplicable white light, and I feel the matter composing my person fall apart while simultaneously reassembling in a new location. As if my being were whiplashed from motion to immotion, an entirely new scene is presented before my undilated pupils at a fair distance, filled with countless skyscrapers and vague outlines of people quickly scurrying atop the seemingly endless paved ground of the environment. There is no open sky, rather in its place, a dark gray rectangular ceiling with fantastical lights scattered across each corner to provide a replacement for Sol. I remain in awe of both my sudden and immediate transportation to this newfound area and the extensively estranged urban scene before me itself.


    ¡°What is this place?¡± I ask, still baffled.


    ¡°An old prototype, of sorts. Humanity before humanity, one might say,¡± the mage speaks in her expository manner from behind me.


    ¡°Before...humanity? Nidaba, what exactly does that mean?¡±


    ¡°Although it has philosophically and societally evolved the furthest, the current civilization of Earth and its species are not the first of Anu¡¯s creation. We are but one trial in the endless experimentations of an obsessively crazed egomaniac, who has played god for far too long.¡±


    ¡°Not the first...? Why would...so this Anu is a legitimate god?¡± I search for clarification to Nidaba¡¯s words through inquisitive and forthwith rambling.


    ¡°It¡¯s strange how I learned all of this from Maximilian and am now repeating it to you, dontch¡¯a think?¡± She asides her explanation with her immediate thoughts. ¡°To answer your question though, I¡¯ll need you to define what the term ¡®god¡¯ means to you.¡±


    ¡°A supernatural being beyond human comprehension who has played a direct role in the makeup and mechanisms of the perceivable universe,¡± I concisely define the word for the mage.


    ¡°Well...then sorta? To the extent of my knowledge, Anu is the overseer of the reality on this planet, not the creator. For an unfathomable amount of time, he has meticulously crafted, watched, and reset the brevity of conscious life on Earth in search of an answer to some question he refuses to share with anyone. Anyone, but you that was.¡±


    ¡°He shared the question with Maximilian?¡± I continue to seek information regarding the mystical debacle I have been thrust into.


    ¡°Let¡¯s not delve into the details now, we¡¯ve a job to do, Maxie,¡± Nidaba taps my shoulder gently, as she walks ahead of me towards the blandly colored cityscape.


    ¡°I still don¡¯t know what this job is, though?¡±


    ¡°Ah, right, I knew I forgot something. We are here for a book. A grimoire, to be more precise,¡± she turns to me and finally explains the rationale for our teleportation to this place while backpedalling.


    ¡°Alright...so then, where exactly are we?  Underground?¡±


    ¡°Not quite. We are currently in a pocket dimension formed by the inversion of a miniscule gravitational field via extraordinarily precise magecraft. This civilization fully embraced spellcraft and the mystic arts alongside innovations in science, after you and I displayed the parallels between the two practices, of course. In doing this, they attained a further developed and maximized technological state; in contrast to their sociability,¡± the mage explains, while still moving ahead of me facing the cityscape.


    ¡°Hang on...you¡¯re telling me they have anti-gravity here? Like...ripped straight from science fiction? And it¡¯s because you and I gave them magic when their civilization formed?¡± I search for clarification to Nidaba¡¯s statement, genuinely intrigued by the prospect before me.


    ¡°More or less,¡± she starts, turning back towards the cityscape but looking over her left shoulder. ¡°I¡¯m not sure if exactly what you are imagining is what they¡¯ve developed here, but the achithymians are quite good at what they do, so I wouldn¡¯t be surprised, and yes, they never would have discovered magecraft had we withheld that information eight million years ago.¡±


    ¡°Achithymians?  Is that the name of their city or something?¡±


    ¡°Nope. ¡®Achithymia¡¯ is the name of their species as a whole, like the term ¡®humanity¡¯. Unlike humanity though, these losers never split into multiple nations or states, instead opting to exist as a species void of politics or debate in their entirety¡±


    ¡°Sounds...a lot more efficient. So if these achithymia are so good at what they do, then why are they secluded to a pocket dimension, while humanity gets all of Earth?¡±


    ¡°Well, Anu quickly grew tired of this creation of his. The key difference between a human and an achithymian lies in the possession of emotions and ambition, and in turn, their entertainment value from an outside perspective. While they have surpassed human technology tenfold, the individuals of this species have no circumstantial will or personalized drive beyond the furthered progression of their collective society,¡± Nidaba derides, clearly displaying a high level of understanding and resentment regarding the society she speaks of. ¡°Upon realizing the lack of will and intrigue to the achithymians, Anu secluded them to a realm of their own making to act as glorified record keepers.¡±


    ¡°You seem displeased by their way of life. What¡¯s so bad about being void of subjectivity?¡±


    ¡°Subjectivity is the essence of enjoyment, Maxie. If you are unable to view something subjectively, you will never be able to understand or appreciate the minor facets of said thing that bring about satisfaction to your personalized consciousness.¡±


    ¡°I guess you have a point, but even so, if a civilization is devoid of prejudiced thinking and idiosyncrasy, they will undoubtedly be more successful than the alternative,¡± I object her focus upon individualized enjoyment within society. ¡°More importantly though, I have yet to meet a human being, who is truly happy with their state of subsistence, meaning the inclusion of subjectivity fails to succeed in its singular hypothetical benefit, anyway.¡±


    ¡°Good to know you¡¯re still so impressed by them,¡± she scoffs through reminiscent laughter. ¡°Maximilian would always come here if he really needed to focus on something for an extended period of time. The amount of times I¡¯ve drawn that stupid symbol to see if he was down here¡­¡± her words trail off as a distraught expression fills her once jovial face.


    Her nostalgic statement lingers in the air about the two of us, as we continue nearing the skyscrapers ahead. A comfortable silence permeates the once talkative scene, and the mage remains less than half a meter ahead of me, strutting along the monotone gray pavement. Unsure of how to reply to Nidaba¡¯s suddenly saddened mood, my mind is quickly overwhelmed by an intense clash of paranoia and guilt. From the very nascent of my existence, I have failed to effectively socialize with other people in any beneficial manner and despised forcing myself to do so anyway. The commonplace and unnecessary pleasantries human society deems socially correct cause an indescribable discomfort to overwhelm my mind. Communicating with other people for extended periods of time consistently becomes draining and cumbersome. The subtleties and nuance of language have always eluded my comprehension of reality, leaving me to feel either ignorant or plain dumb. Simply put, I am bad at communal activity and have understood this to be a detrimental factor regarding my overall usefulness to humanity for some time now; however, exploring the unforeseen world of magecraft through dialogue, discussing philosophical inquiries with a lackadaisically nonplussed attitude, speaking about truly nothing in particular for hours on end, and merely enjoying the mundane happenings of reality alongside Nidaba have granted a semblance of social confidence and security within myself. Directly in contrast to this, I fear my inability to connect with her. I fear my inability to understand her. I fear my inability to keep her in my life. Plausible ephemerality petrifies me. I ripped the individual she knew for millions of years from her merely by being thrust into existence. I did not ask to be born, yet by doing so, I have severely pained the woman ahead of me. My mind feels scrambled, and I suddenly grow anxious outside of my emotional control, becoming motionless abruptly mid stride. My throat tightens and my chest contorts. Nidaba notices my pause and turns to gaze through my worrisome pupils with her colorless eyes, likely beginning to read my thoughts.


    ¡°How¡¯d you know I was...well look at you bein¡¯ all perceptive for once??¡± She scoffs upon ascertaining the birth of the idea in my mind, confirming what I thought to be true. ¡°More importantly, I see you still have the same social anxiety you always had. Some things really never change, huh?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t¡­that¡¯s so weird,¡± I embarrassedly remark regarding her response to the ideas secluded to my head, while averting my gaze downwards to avoid eye contact with the undoubtedly smug expression being relented upon me.


    ¡°I¡¯ve just got one question¡­¡± the mage begins, quickly closing the gap between the two of us and bending over slightly to look into my panicked eyes. ¡°Am I still the exception?¡±


    ¡°The exception?¡± I repeat her words, mostly sure of her intention but still seeking a different, less problematic one.


    ¡°It took him...a good few million years to finally admit it, but Maximilian most definitely said, ahem, ¡®You are the single exception to my distaste for all the socially inclined creatures I have met¡¯,¡± Nidaba clarifies the intention I had hoped to avoid discussing, perfectly imitating my voice while quoting the words of my past self.


    ¡°Well¡­¡± I begin but quickly fail to translate the alarmed line of rapid thought in my mind to speech, feeling my face begin to turn red. ¡°You...it¡¯s...I guess so,¡± I stumble about the words I speak like a child learning to walk, barely managing to force them off of my tongue due to an alien but disconcerting emotion brewing inside of me.


    Upon finally uttering my guttural but honest response to Nidaba¡¯s question, an inconceivably nostalgic yet novelly comforting warmth engrosses my person, as Nidaba wraps her slender arms around my torso, fully embracing me in an instant. The feeling is secure yet liberating. Unique yet customary. Calming yet inspiring. Practically in shock by the actions of the mage in the moment, I find myself paralyzed in the position I paused in earlier, unable to reciprocate the action.


    ¡°Me growing disinterested or hateful with you is the last thing you need to worry about, okay Maxie?¡± Nidaba stands on her toes in order to speak directly into my left ear with her comforting voice. ¡°I¡¯m not going anywhere. It¡¯s you and me; Max and Nidaba, against the world, got it?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll hold you to that,¡± I manage to speak, while gripping the mage¡¯s frail back.


    ¡°Oh, will you now??¡± She loosens her hold on my torso, resting her hands on my shoulders and standing on her toes to bring us eye level. ¡°Now c¡¯mon, we¡¯ve a book to find.¡±


    ¡°Lead the way,¡± I struggle to smile, as I speak, collecting my thoughts and emotions.


    Nidaba starts ahead yet again, and soon enough, we arrive at the base of one of the countless skyscrapers scattered about the monochromatic pocket dimension. During the trek, we pass by multiple creatures much shorter than the average human, whom I can only assume to be the aforementioned species isolated in this reality. The individuals scurry about the concrete ground, quickly zipping from locale to locale and performing various tasks swiftly, likely to achieve some sense of ephemeral accomplishment. Observing the species which seems mostly disinterested in Nidaba and myself, I begin to understand the social differences between humanity and the achithymia in a more holistic sense. Devoid of hope, curiosity, and a true cause for being, the incessant workers ignore the grandiose imposition of the complex moral and existential questioning humanity often falls into and instead, display an acute ability to perform tasks assigned to them without further inquisition or explanation.


    Now at the front of the tower, Nidaba quickly leads me into an extremely compact box that begins to traverse upwards along the side of the building, emanating no sound or heat while doing so. After a brief moment of time, the doors reopen to display an expansive room composed of innumerable geometrically shaped walls clustered together to form a perceivably endless amount of gray corridors lined with countless books of various vibrant colors. The mage casually struts out of the box and into the room, as I follow close behind. Humming a familiar tune that I am unable to definitively place, Nidaba walks past a large circular window displaying the surrounding skyscrapers and approaches a counter of sorts; at which, she presses a glowing white square atop the surface with her right index and middle fingers. Suddenly, noise, as if from a pipe organ, bellows from below us, and an extremely pale achithymian, no taller than one-hundred and fifty centimeters, is elevated by a silent mechanism to a seat behind the aforementioned counter. A small white robe hangs from the creature¡¯s shoulders, covering his entire body, as he repositions himself in the chair and rotates his overly large head upward at Nidaba and I. The individual before us appears immensely estranged yet altogether intimidating in an uncanny sense.


    ¡°What is your reason for coming here, Nidaba?¡± The achithymian finally speaks in a flat voice deprived of any semblance of emotion.


    ¡°That¡¯s no way to greet an old friend, now is it, 8-5-7-4-9-5-4-3-5-6-4? I was just in the neighborhood and figured I should stop by to say hello,¡± the mage lies as naturally as she breathes with a charismatic grin.


    ¡°You have achieved your purpose for coming here then, and now may leave,¡± the achithymian says plainly, unamused by the social meandering.


    ¡°What are all these books for?¡± I inquire from behind Nidaba.


    ¡°They are for me to perform maintenance upon.¡±


    ¡°Uh-huh...so, why do you perform maintenance upon them?¡± I rephrase my inquisition in response to the obvious answer.


    ¡°Because that is my assigned task. In order to achieve maximum efficiency, all achithymians must perform their given roles perfectly.¡±


    ¡°I told you about their way of life beforehand, so that this interaction wouldn¡¯t occur, Max,¡± Nidaba annoyedly turns her head to the side and chides me with a sideways look. ¡°Anyway, as I was saying Six-Four, I came here to borrow one of your books, if you would be so kind?¡±


    ¡°I have responded to this inquiry in the same manner every time it has been made, and the law still has yet to be changed. Anu forbids anyone from touching these books, except for me. It is my duty,¡± Six-Four offers immovable certainty with his final sentence.


    ¡°What exactly obligates you to follow Anu¡¯s word?¡± I resume the inquisition much to Nidaba¡¯s chagrin.


    ¡°Anu is the creator of myself and my species as a whole, thus I, and we, exist thanks to and for the sake of Anu. Without Anu, there are no achithymians. Without achithymians, progression of any kind is unattainable. Without progression, everything stagnates and society falls apart.¡±


    ¡°Regardless of your origin, do you not possess a certain will or desire individualized to yourself thanks to the multitude of experiences that have culminated in the consciousness you exist as in this very moment? Aside from the supernatural crafting of your species as a whole, within your cognizant subsistence in this reality, is there not a semblance of ambition to strive for something upon your merit and yours alone? Or rather, do you prefer to mindlessly accomplish menial tasks for a god that abandoned you because he found you boring?¡± I verbally assault the conscious creature before me, accidentally allowing the words to slip from my tongue streamlined directly from my mind.


    Both individuals stare at me silently upon the conclusion of my barrage of caustic language; Nidaba appearing immensely frustrated yet somehow excited and Six-Four seemingly perplexed by my statements. The pastel mage¡¯s eyes widen in shock as she continues to blink with her mouth agape, attempting to grasp something from under the table using her left arm with the achithymian distracted. Six-Four begins to speak lowly in an incredibly concise language I do not understand, as Nidaba shifts her gaze to me in an instant with a devious look in her eye.


    ¡°Do the thing, NOW!¡± The mage shouts at me in a hushed voice.


    ¡°What thing?¡±


    ¡°THE THING, MAX!!¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re gonna have to be more specific, Nidaba?¡± I uneasily ask for clarification beyond ¡®the thing¡¯, while shifting my vision between the mage full of anticipation and the achithymian now filled with even more confusion.


    ¡°The time art.¡±


    ¡°Why would I do tha-¡±


    ¡°Stop arguing and JUST DO IT!!¡±


    ¡°Fine,¡± I finally concede to the woman¡¯s exhaustive plea and instantly divert all of my focus towards halting the motion of the fourth dimension.


    Immediately prior to reality freezing the awkward environment about the three of us and the inconceivable pain from before¡¯s permeation of my being, Nidaba rapidly lifts her left hand above the counter to reveal a maroon grimoire with golden lining held by her index finger and thumb. Mentally secluding the brevity of the pain into a single point in an attempt to ignore the agony welling inside of me, I reach across the counter to grab the book with my right hand and place it between the waistband of my pants and my stomach, releasing my hold over time as soon as possible. Nidaba blinks for a second, but quickly diverts her gaze to my lower abdomen and smugly smiles. Six-Four continues to look equally as perplexed as the moments following my verbal assault, rapidly growing more and more disgusted with each passing instant.


    ¡°You magi and your emotions are absurdly nonsensical. I don¡¯t understand what Anu sees in you worthless lot. Begone at once,¡± Six-Four finally speaks with a certain annoyance in his voice, and as he does, the mechanism from before removes him from our sight, leaving Nidaba and I isolated in the dull room of colorful books.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    A brief silence ensues but is suddenly shattered by an outburst of laughter from the woman beside me. Tears begin to stream down the mage¡¯s face, as she cackles in amusement at the interaction that occurred moments ago. She attempts to compose herself by placing her hand on my left shoulder to catch her breath. The laughter slows to a halt, and eventually, Nidaba looks up to my unamused expression.


    ¡°You seriously didn¡¯t find that funny?¡± She questions my sense of humor, while wiping the tears in the corners of her eyes.


    ¡°Not particularly.¡±


    ¡°Solemn as ever, Maxie,¡± she chides me with a smile, turning and walking back towards the entrance to the box.


    I follow the mage¡¯s movements, but as I enter the elevator-type contraption, the entire scene is bathed in dark red light, and the alto noise from before echoes repetitively at an ever increasing volume. The sudden change is undoubtedly due to the book hidden underneath my clothing, and realizing this simultaneously, Nidaba and I look at each other unsure of what to do next.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got an idea, but you¡¯re definitely not gonna like it,¡± she unsuredly claims.


    ¡°Your bad idea is better than my lack of one. What is it?¡±


    ¡°More of an outline but still, meet me back at the circle that brought us here.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re splitting up?¡±


    ¡°In essence,¡± she deviously remarks, turning her back to me and chanting in a familiar tongue.


    A booming crumbling noise emanates from below us, as the entire building begins to shake. Following a brief pause of silence, subsequent blasts occur in rapid succession, causing the building to vibrate violently, displacing pieces of the floor about us. Nidaba grabs my wrist, materializes her dual bladed knife in an instant, tears a hole in the side of the box, and throws my extremely confused person out of the makeshift window before I am able to realize the imminent danger I am in. I feel myself burst through the narrow opening, embracing the coldly still air of the outside and viewing the ground numerous meters below me. The false gravity of the dimension begins to take hold of my motionless body suspended in the air, and I realize an uninterrupted plummet to the concrete below will most definitely result in my death. As if it were attempting to prevent my demise, debris in freefall from the magically detonated skyscraper begins to accumulate about me, protecting me from a sudden hail of altered gravitational blasts likely shot by the achithymians above. Thriving within the chaotic clusterfuck of concrete rubble, magical projectiles, continued explosions, and distorted gravitational waves, Nidaba leaps from the same hole I was thrown from in a significantly more graceful manner, weaving, dodging, and prancing from freefalling surface to freefalling surface in the direction of the established rendezvous point, as I realize the outline of a plan described to me ends at this point.


    Completely unsure of what to do next and clearly in a state of emergency, I decide to utilize the only viable form of magecraft I¡¯ve used previously, an expulsion art, to attempt to propel myself in Nidaba¡¯s direction. Placing the entirety of my focus and concentration upon collecting mana at my fingertips, translucent energy begins to swirl about my right hand until finally bursting in a resultant upward gust of wind. An intense burning sensation fills my arm, as it flings backwards loosely and out of my control. I soar upwards directly past Nidaba, who appears shocked by my reckless and overtly suicidal method of travel. After a few seconds, my eyes become difficult to keep open, and I can feel my consciousness begin to slip from my control. Before I am lost in the deep pit of nothingness that awaits me, I feel myself suddenly slow down, as the force of gravity recaptures its hold upon me, returning my mind to the reality before, or rather below, me. I look downwards to see the flat concrete street Nidaba and I had walked down to reach the skyscraper, now reduced to rubble behind me, and envision the silver haired mage sprinting at an inhuman speed to catch me prior to my likely fatal gravitationally accelerated collision with the ground. As if the situation weren¡¯t dire enough, two unmanned drones rocket downwards from the concrete ceiling, zipping past the mage rapidly and honing in upon the grimoire firmly tucked in my waistband. Cognizant of both the drones¡¯ superior movement speed compared to Nidaba and undoubtedly lethal capabilities about to be employed, I freeze time, halting the approaching machines and continuing to fall towards the concrete with no one to prevent my impact other than myself.


    Unsure of how much mana I have left, losing color in my vision, unable to move my right arm, and holistically out of options, I collect mana in my left hand and attempt to cast a comparably weaker anemo blast in order to cushion my collision against the concrete without relaunching myself into the air. I let go of the stockpiled mana, completely losing feeling in my left hand, as a euphoric pain bounces about my skull, preventing my slip into unaware darkness. The wind magic barely overcomes the force of gravity and slightly tosses my lifeless body upward to then be smacked against the ground at a velocity of less fatal magnitude. As I lay with my bleeding face stuck to the dry concrete, I lose my grip on the fourth dimension and feel it resume its routine passage, allowing both Nidaba and the drones to continue moving in my direction. My body refuses to adhere to my commands, rife with a sickly feeling of sore exhaustion. Moments before the two airborne machines are able to close in on the grimoire, Nidaba leaps into the air, grabs hold of a pole sticking out from the surrounding rubble, and gymnastically spins about the metal stick three times, propelling herself at an acute angle through the air via the break of centripetal force and dramatic increase of tangential acceleration. The silver haired mage flies at an unfathomable speed in a depressed parabolic arc, arriving at the small gap of space between the drones, while throwing two identical dual-bladed knives into each instantaneously. As if unphased by gravity, the mage lightly places her feet to the ground and looks into my blood stained eyes with a worrisomely disappointed expression.


    ¡°I¡¯ve seen a lot of strange applications to magecraft in my sixty-five million years of existence, but Maxie¡­¡± Nidaba pauses and scoffs in an almost impressed tone. ¡°That was something else entirely.¡±


    ¡°Your plan was shit,¡± I struggle to speak with my face glued to the pavement by the congealing of blood.


    ¡°I warned you you wouldn¡¯t like it, but it all worked out in the end,¡± the mage attempts to validate her unthought out outline of a plan, while helping my practically limp body upright with her right shoulder as a crutch.


    ¡°You consider this to be a success?¡± I inquire, while struggling to pull the grimoire from my waistband, continuing our conversation and approaching the teleportation symbol incrementally.


    ¡°Indubitably. You wouldn¡¯t??¡± She answers and reposes the question unto me, while snatching the book from my hand and quickly flipping through the pages with her free left hand.


    ¡°I think we have radically differing definitions of the term.¡±


    ¡°Everyone has different definitions for everything, Max. More importantly, this is definitely the right book,¡± Nidaba confidently proclaims, evidently locating whatever it is she sought.


    ¡°What¡¯d you find?¡± I ask, curious of what I recently risked my life to obtain.


    ¡°Anu is, in fact, not a god.  All that moron is is the first mage to be born, although that does give him more mana than the rest of us combined,¡± she exposes the apparent secrets of the supposed god. ¡°What this means though, is that he can be killed; just as easily as the rest of us.¡±


    ¡°That is if you can get close enough to him. You just commented on his inane mana supply,¡± I retort her hopes of removing the largest threat to the both of us.


    ¡°I¡¯d wager that it¡¯s difficult to use any magic if time itself is frozen about you, regardless of how much mana you possess,¡± the mage clearly refers to my barely usable spell able to halt the fourth dimension.


    ¡°If I were to freeze time for any extended period of time, I would end up writhing in agony on the ground again,¡± I continue to poke holes in her new outline of a plan.


    ¡°Practice makes perfect, sweetie,¡± Nidaba facetiously treats me like a child, as we arrive at the chalklike symbol.


    The silver haired mage positions the two of us at the center of the magic circle and begins to chant in the usual ancient language. The symbol begins to glow synonymously to before and the estranged feelings of disassembly and reassembly return. As my vision begins to fade, I witness innumerable identical drones pouring from the ceiling above us, approaching the grimoire in the woman¡¯s hand at an absurd speed. Well before the machines are able to draw dangerously near the two of us, we return to the mundane and familiar streets of human civilization. Nidaba places my seriously wounded person against the wall of the alleyway and begins to cast some type of spell upon me without my consent.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± I question the art positioned on my battered arms.


    ¡°Healing you, idiot. Now, hold still,¡± she demands of me, placing an immense amount of concentration on the spell.


    Once the mage finishes, I feel a notable difference in both the physical exhaustion and residual pain rattling throughout my body moments before. Now possessing ample energy and able to move my body easily once more, I rise to my feet and stretch my tight limbs. Nidaba snickers at my discomfort within my own body, as I struggle to situate myself.


    ¡°This is amazing...Thank you, Nidaba,¡± I attempt to display gratitude towards the use of magic to circumvent my pain.


    ¡°Don¡¯t mention it.  I¡¯m the one who should be thanking you anyway.¡±


    The mage relents a bright smile upon me, improving my mood drastically, as we begin to walk back towards my uncle¡¯s house through the urban scenery. The two of us continue to discuss menial topics the entire way, comfortably coexisting alongside each other within a social atmosphere. Birds continue to flutter across the deep blue canvas of the sky. Clouds drift aimlessly, propelled by the wind. Squirrels scurry across the pavement in search of foodstuffs. Sol luminates the entire scene for my eyes to bear witness to, but more importantly, none of it matters. The unceasing observation and inquisition flooding from the innards of my consciousness holds no true purpose outside of the furthering of my own personal knowledge and satisfaction. Thus, what truly holds value and purpose within my life is that which I deem to be valued or meaningful and nothing else. The standards of any society, the influence of any person, or the ideals of any movement are excluded from this moment. This moment of actual happiness. Eventually, the moment passes, and we arrive at the front door.


    ¡°I¡¯ll return to your room later tonight after I finish reading this,¡± the mage informs me of her immediate intentions, while presenting the grimoire as reference for the pronoun ¡®this¡¯.


    ¡°I don¡¯t have any plans anyway.¡±


    ¡°I know you don¡¯t, loser,¡± Nidaba teases me and instantly vanishes from my sight, returning me to reality.


    I enter the door to the house in front of me and envision Bennett uncharacteristically conscious on the sofa watching television. The drunk turns his head slightly to gaze upon my person in the doorway with a somewhat confused expression. I casually begin to move towards the bottom of the stairwell in hopes of escaping to my room without any social interaction but am quickly interrupted by the gargled voice I so rarely hear.


    ¡°Where¡¯ve you been?? Huh, kid?¡± The man begins to interrogate my disappearance earlier this morning in a drunkard voice.


    ¡°I was out with a friend,¡± I curtly reply, doing everything in my power to end the conversation.


    ¡°¡®Out with a friend¡¯, huh?¡± The waste of space repeats my answer as a question. ¡°Your school called, you know?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be able to manage my workload,¡± I dissuade his assumption.


    ¡°Who is this friend?¡±


    ¡°No one,¡± I grow immensely bored of the lackluster and meaningless conversation occurring.


    ¡°You¡¯rea cocky little shit, y¡¯knowdat?¡± Bennett berates me through slurred speech.


    I turn my back to my father¡¯s brother and continue my passage up the stairs into the warm isolation of my room, escaping the bothersome interaction as quickly as possible. I collapse onto my bed, as the unrelenting storm of questions and ideas resumes within my mind, unstimulated by anything else. The thoughts soon overwhelm me and I become lost along innumerable tangents between unalike concepts and ideas. I begin to grow strangely comfortable within the maelstrom of my mind, and soon enough, I lose my grip on consciousness, falling into the intrusive pit of nothingness yet again.


    ¡°Maaax,¡± a voice gently calls out to me from outside my peaceful unconsciousness. ¡°Don¡¯t make me smack you, wake up already!¡± The voice quickly grows impatient.


    I open my eyes to the usually dull ceiling of my room but am surprised to have a familiar face hovering above me. Nidaba¡¯s impatience soon morphs into curious excitement, as she realizes her attempts to pry me from sleep were successful. The mage¡¯s face is difficult to make out in the unlit atmosphere of my room, but her voice and fragrance are unmistakable.


    ¡°Took ya long enough, sleepyhead,¡± she teases my barely conscious mind. ¡°It¡¯s morning already, so get up. I wanna take you somewhere.¡±


    ¡°What time is it?¡± I mumble in response, still half asleep.


    ¡°Time for you to get up.¡±


    ¡°And who decided that?¡±


    ¡°I did, so get¡­¡± Nidaba pauses, taking hold of something before continuing. ¡°UP!!¡± She shouts, ripping my wondrously comfortable and warm blanket away from me.


    ¡°Mmmmm¡­¡± I annoyedly moan, begrudged by the thievery of my protective armament. ¡°Look what you¡¯ve done. I¡¯m freezing, and you¡¯re a horrible person.¡±


    ¡°Oh my! How will you ever survive the harsh cold of this temporal climate??¡± she sarcastically comments. ¡°Quit being a wimp.¡±


    ¡°This better be good,¡± I struggle to speak while sitting up in my bed.


    Nidaba stands at my bedside and takes hold of my hands once I fully sit up, anxiously pulling me from the heavenly comfort of my mattress. Entirely against my will, I am dragged from my room and out of the house, as the grogginess of sleep begins to wear off. Now able to fully comprehend my surroundings, I take note of Nidaba¡¯s notably different appearance. Rather than the typical monochromatic dress or blouse, the mage has what can only be described as casual clothing adorned upon her. A thin, maroon shirt covers her torso, and an archaic but intricate bracelet rests on her wrist. She wears a matching pair of black shorts and knee-high socks along with dark gray loafers to obstruct the view of her pale legs. Her long, silver hair flows freely in the wind, as she continues to lead me towards an unknown destination.


    ¡°Almost there...I saw this place a while ago walking through town,¡± she informs me full of excitement.


    ¡°What place?¡±


    ¡°Patience is a virtue, Maxie,¡± she proclaims confidently.


    ¡°That¡¯s rich coming from you, Nidaba.¡±


    ¡°Here it is!¡± the mage exclaims, ignoring my comment.


    Before the two of us is a quaint coffee shop on the corner of an uncrowded street. The sun is just starting to peek over the buildings blocking the horizon, as the open sign lights up, indicating the beginning of a new business day. I am further guided by Nidaba through the front door and into a seat with a menu in front of me. Before I realize it, I acquire the appearance of a functioning member of society.


    ¡°Why did you bring me here?¡± I repeat my questioning of the woman before me¡¯s actions up to this point.


    ¡°Because you like coffee, and I heard this place has some of the best in town,¡± Nidaba offers the most blatantly obvious and vague explanation imaginable in an overtly playful tone.


    ¡°Let me clarify: why did you bring me here so early in the morning?¡± I attempt to derive her motivation for initiating this situation.


    ¡°Are you gonna keep complaining or are you gonna order something?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re an enigma,¡± I yield my inquisition defeatedly.


    ¡°I like to keep it that way,¡± Nidaba replies with a genuine smile, bringing about an end to my aggravated mood.


    The server soon takes our orders with a fabricated friendly smile and promptly leaves, promising to return with two iced mochas in a timely manner. Nidaba gazes out the window, seemingly entranced by the pink clash of night and day strewn across the morning sky. Her pale gray eyes perfectly reflect the image into mine. A comfortable silence permeates the once talkative table, as time seemingly freezes about the two of us. An unfamiliar feeling wells up within me. Something more than the occasional burst of dopamine from menial entertainment or the state of content I feel while isolated. True comfort. A brief taste of happiness. The pale gray eyes shift their piercing gaze to the dull brown irises of mine, and a wonderful smile appears across her face.


    ¡°What are you looking at?¡± Nidaba inquires of me skeptically, snapping me back into reality.


    I avert my eyes while blinking repetitively and grip the bridge of my nose with my right thumb and index finger, saying, ¡°sorry, I spaced out.¡±


    ¡°Uh-huh,¡± she mocks me with a smug smile. ¡°You¡¯re lucky I disconnected the neural link.¡±


    ¡°I should be thanking you for not reading my mind?¡± I ask rhetorically.


    ¡°No need to bend the knee or anything, but a simple thank you would be nice.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not thanking you for not reading my mind, Nidaba.¡±


    ¡°And I¡¯m not paying for the coffee, so we¡¯re even,¡± she replies confidently.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t bring my wallet.¡±


    ¡°But I did,¡± the mage declares with a deviously pompous grin, pulling my black wallet from her back pocket.


    ¡°Do you really not have any money?¡± I inquire, piecing the situation together in my mind.


    ¡°No I do not!¡± She declares way too confidently. ¡°I never really saw the value of currency when someone first thought of it, and I still don¡¯t like it. Brings about too much excess.¡±


    I sigh and take the leather purse from the cocksure mage, left with no choice but to pay the entirety of the inexpensive bill. The server returns with our drinks and swiftly leaves us, reverting the table to a comfortable silence for a brief moment. I plug the paper straw into the plastic cup of light brown coffee and begin to sip on the bittersweet beverage.


    ¡°It is pretty good,¡± I comment on the above-average taste of the iced mocha.


    ¡°See?? Aren¡¯t you glad I brought you here?¡± Nidaba excitedly implores me to revise my previous statements.


    ¡°Yeah¡­¡± I reply with a brief pause. ¡°I guess I am.¡±


    The two of us finish the drinks, while continuing to converse about pointless topics with one another and throw the empty cups into the designated trash bin by the exit. I make my way to the counter to pay the bill, while Nidaba exits the shop to wait outside. Upon completing the uncomfortable transaction with the overly talkative cashier, I exit the store to find Nidaba standing by the street light in front of the shop, staring at the now bluish morning sky filled with cumulus clouds. She remains still. Motionless except her silver hair, flowing in the subtle breeze. I approach her and tear her away from whatever escape from reality she was gripped by with a few paranoid words.


    ¡°Is Anu going to send more mages since we stole that grimoire?¡±


    ¡°More?¡± she nervously repeats my paranoia, turning to face me. ¡°I don¡¯t know. You¡¯re an exception to nearly every established rule, and so your treatment is left entirely to the immediate discretion of that dickhead,¡± the confident mage¡¯s voice begins to waver. ¡°Compounded with us stealing that book, I have no idea what he¡¯s planning, but no matter what,¡± she strengthens her resolve. ¡°I¡¯ll protect you. I promise you that.¡±


    ¡°Thanks, Nidaba,¡± I provide genuine gratitude towards the woman before me. ¡°I¡¯ll try to do the same.¡±


    ¡°Okay, bigshot,¡± she jokingly responds, returning to her usual self. ¡°Just don¡¯t hurt yourself too bad.¡±


    With that, the two of us return to my Uncle¡¯s home, where Nidaba proceeds to teleport away before startling my dad¡¯s undoubtedly hungover brother. I return to my room and almost instantly, to sleep within the warm comfort of my bed, entrapped by the isolated imaginings of my mind.


    The passage of time continues regularly in spite of the paradigm shift my perception of the world underwent. I continue to speak with Nidaba regularly, garnering bits of knowledge regarding the constructs of spellcraft and the broader world of magic and multiple societies as a whole through our playful dialogue. School remains monotonous but somehow more withstandable, and Lucy¡¯s masterful ability to nag me persists before, after, and sometimes even during class. My life, for lack of a better term, subsists. These insightful thoughts float in the back of my mind, as I am enlisted to go on a midnight walk with Nidaba.


    ¡°Come ooooon!!! It¡¯ll be fun!¡± The mage insists.


    ¡°It¡¯s already past midnight, and I¡¯m tired,¡± I curtly reply.


    ¡°That just means the moon¡¯ll be out. Quit being lame.¡±


    ¡°Fine,¡± I give in to Nidaba¡¯s demands with a sigh.


    The moonlight shines wonderfully in the night sky, as we walk through the park near my uncle¡¯s house. The subtle chirping of birds and insects mystifies the air around us, as the mage stops walking and turns to me, her face basqued in the eerie light. Her long silver hair flowing in the slight breeze. Her pale gray eyes glowing in the ominous dark of the night. Nidaba holds my full attention, as she playfully speaks,


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t the moon look really cool?¡±


    ¡°It does,¡± I agree with her inquiry, looking up to gaze upon the bright full moon behind the mage. ¡°Is this what we came out here in the middle of the night for?¡±


    ¡°More or less,¡± she speaks, as I shift my eyes to her. ¡°I guess being with you isn¡¯t bad either.¡±


    ¡°I enjoy being with you too, Nidaba,¡± I speak words unfiltered from my immediate thoughts.


    ¡°Is that so?¡± she replies deviously with a smug smile. ¡°I guess some things don¡¯t change with reincarnation, huh.¡±


    ¡°And what do you mean by that?¡± I inquire, entirely sure of her meaning.


    ¡°Anyhoo, any luck replicating that spell?¡±


    ¡°No. I think there needs to be some sort of emergency for my knowledge of spellcraft to be unlocked,¡± I defeatedly answer, accepting her change in topic.


    ¡°Well...don¡¯t get too upset about it. It¡¯s not that big of a deal anyway,¡± the pale mage attempts to comfort me.


    ¡°I guess, but if we run into another mage like Nergal-¡±


    ¡°Then I¡¯ll be there to save your sorry ass!¡± Nidaba exclaims with a smile.


    ¡°I can¡¯t just rely on you to save me.¡±


    ¡°¡®Course you can. I got your back, remember?¡±


    ¡°Still, I¡¯d like to help you, if at all possible.¡±


    ¡°You worry too much any¡­¡± Nidaba begins to chide me, but her words quickly trail off.


    The mage¡¯s face intensifies, as she quickly assumes the uncannily unbalanced stance she so rarely utilizes. The twin-bladed knife materializes in her hand. The twilight moon glistens off her eyes and the obsidian alike. Energy begins to surge around the area, and Nidaba¡¯s silver hair floats above her shoulders.


    ¡°I see your mana perception skills are as sharp as ever, Nidaba,¡± a deep voice echoes from the shadows.


    ¡°Max,¡± she whispers towards me in a hushed tone. ¡°Run. Now.¡±


    Her frightened voice strikes terror into my soul. The normally cheerful woman appears worried yet altogether determined and prepared for whatever lies in the darkness before us. Suddenly, bundles of pure energy, fire, water, and lightning penetrate the shadows and soar in our direction; however, in an instant, Nidaba circles around me, deflecting each attack with a fluid motion. The redirected spells land behind their intended targets in a fantastical explosion of an amalgamation of elements. Ignoring the eruption of magical energy, the mage then kicks me directly in the chest, sending me flying towards a nearby bench and street light, while yelling,


    ¡°GET OUT OF HERE! NOW!¡±


    The plethora of spells are fired again in Nidaba¡¯s direction, but she manages to dodge them all and enters the obscure shadows from which they emanate. The clashing of steel against obsidian and chanting of spells drowns the once mystified air, as I attempt to recompose myself for a few moments.


    I won¡¯t leave her, I think to myself while managing to catch my breath yet struggling to stand.


    Glimpses of the silver-haired mage elusively evading the countless spells flash into my unclear vision. Suddenly within the scene conveyed to my eyes via the fleeting light of the moon alongside sparing street lights, Nidaba ducks underneath a horizontal flash of electricity and materializes four flawless knives, throwing the sharpened obsidian blades like darts and piercing three of her four intended targets. The woman remains constantly pressured by the innumerable amount of hooded mages surrounding her yet regardless of the imminent danger, expertly pervades the chaotic scene, casting responsive mystical arts and avoiding the barrage of applied mana upon her person incessantly. Instantaneously and without warning, a grotesquely towering mage appears behind the woman and grips her left arm tightly, twisting her forearm with a hauntingly overwhelming physical strength. Screaming in agony for a brief moment, Nidaba reamasses her focus and drives a dual-bladed knife into the throat of the hooded figure lifting her off the ground, killing him instantly. As the towering mage falls to the ground with obsidian in his neck, three less towering but equally as intent hooded figures emerge from the encompassing darkness, rapidly closing in upon the woman. As they narrow the gap of space, Nidaba crouches down and gyrates about her center of mass with her right foot kicked out, sweeping the legs of all three approaching threats. The heroine then leaps into the air, amassing an overtly dangerous pyro art and dropping the newly formed celestial body of Helium and Hydrogen upon the heads of the three discombobulated mages, who were swept from their feet. The incinerated corpses return to their root of nothingness, as Nidaba replaces her feet to the floor and continues to repel the relentless attacks of the mages seeming to take shape by nothing other than the virtue of dark nothingness about us. A hoodless mage with fiery red hair sprints from the shadows with an extensively elongated sword in hand, resolved to drive the blade into Nidaba¡¯s back, but aware of the threat approaching behind her, the woman backflips over the ginger, stabbing one of her seemingly infinite knives into the top of the man¡¯s skull. She lands and continues to rapidly survey her surroundings for subsequent peril. The silver haired mage clearly possesses more experience in combat than the persistent hoods; however, as seems routine within reality, plurality eventually surmounts expertise.


    I begin to trudge back in Nidaba¡¯s direction, but she suddenly lands in front of me, horribly injured. Her gorgeous face is horrendously bruised and blood gushes from a cut atop her pale forehead. Her left arm is completely corkscrewed and purple with blood dripping from her torn sleeve, as she struggles to stand, unable to apply pressure to her right foot.


    ¡°Nidaba, I¡­¡± I begin to speak but find no words to express the fear and distress overwhelming my mind in the moment.


    ¡°Stop¡­¡± she struggles to speak in a raspy voice, beginning to cough up blood. ¡°Max, you need to run. Live. You-¡± she interrupts herself, spitting out even more red ichor and falling to her knees.


    I¡¯m speechless. No words can express the horror consuming my mind upon seeing Nidaba in such a state. I, instinctively, embrace her almost lifeless body upright in the street, illuminated by the single street light above us. I squeeze the mage¡¯s weakly frail body, as tears begin to well in my eyes.


    ¡°I can¡¯t lose you too,¡± I manage to implore the hateful continuation of existence through streaming tears and choked breath.


    ¡°You¡¯re so sweet, Maxie,¡± she sofly replies, resting her hand on my face and, once more, gazing through my eyes with a smile. ¡°Now listen to me, these mages...they¡¯re dangerous. And relentless,¡± blood begins to seep from her nose, as she struggles more and more to speak with every word. ¡°Get out of here. I¡¯ll end this, for good this time.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean? I won¡¯t leave you here to die!¡± I begin to yell, while tears continue to stream down my cheeks and my chest contorts with an inexplicable anguish.


    ¡°I¡¯ve lived long enough, Max. You still have a life ahead of you, regardless of who you were in the past. What makes you you are your decisions, thoughts, and beliefs. Never forget¡­ you deserve to live as you want to, not who Maximilian wants, not who I want, and certainly not who Anu or any of these assholes want. You are conscious. You are real. Life is worth living, so experience it and enjoy the hell out of it.¡±


    Upon speaking those words to me, the injured mage rises to her feet, and for the final time, assumes her uncanny stance, dual bladed knife in hand. She turns to me, her silver hair flowing in the moonlight, her pale gray eyes piercing through mine, her perfect, shining smile ingrained into my mind forever, and speaks,


    ¡°Now go! Live, Max!¡±


    The mage prances back into the darkness, as energy, similar but somehow different to the surges before, begins to encompass the surrounding area. The potency of the mana is stupendously petrifying, and I remain on the pavement with Nidaba¡¯s words swirling around my confused mind. The mana explodes with intensity, as she becomes perfectly visible, shining within the darkness. Even now in this horrifying moment, she is as captivating as ever before. Harshly purple aura emanates about her, and she opens her now glowing eyes, chanting a forebodingly ominous spell.


    ¡°NIDABA!! DON¡¯T!!¡± I attempt to prevent what I somehow know will bring about the end of the mage, as in an identical fashion to before, time itself freezes around me.


    The unforgettable pain courses throughout my body, undoubtedly caused by the novel halting of the passage of time. My entire body writhes in agony, but through sheer willpower, I manage to stand and slowly move towards Nidaba, the glowing light in the horrifying surrounding darkness. Each step brings an ever increasing level of suffering within my mind and throughout my spine, yet all the same, I persist, determined to assist the injured mage in whatever manner plausible. Following years of aimlessness, emptiness, and loss, this one woman brought something real, alive, and emotional into my life. The debt I owe and gratitude I feel towards her is inconceivable, as without her, my existence would remain lifeless and dull. These thoughts twirl about the confines of my consciousness. Time begins to meld into my reality. The spell consumes my being. The once bluish setting turns monochromatic to my eyes. Pain. Overwhelming, unceasing, unfathomable pain courses throughout every cell that composes my person. I open my eyes, gazing upon Nidaba, still entrapped by the darkness. Still motionless in time. Pain defines my existence. Fear consumes my mind. I have to save her.


    I hold this state, unwilling to let go of the fourth dimension. Unwilling to let Nidaba die. The pain increases with each moment spent frozen in time, but all the same, I endure it. I writhe in agony on the pavement, knowing the pain will subsist as long as time is frozen. I do not care. I refuse to let her die. Eventually, the length of my isolation in the unmoving fourth dimension becomes unknown to me. The pain begins to fade and along with it, much of what remained of my will and ambition. I fail to remember my own name. I fail to recall who I am. I fail to even remember why I froze time in the first place. All I know is that it must remain motionless, whatever the cost may be.


    Time fails to resume its unrelenting passage, as it has for as long as I can remember now. The silver-haired woman remains, horrendously wounded, determined to protect me, and all the same, frozen by the motionless fourth dimension. I have become numb to the pain that used to overwhelm my being and sit, determined to bring about a conclusion to this hopeless world. Humans, Achithymians, reality, society, relationships. They¡¯re meaningless and bothersome components of the endless suffering of life. Humans will quickly betray each other to satisfy their own selfish desires. Achithymians accept the purpose of their existence, whatever it may be, without question. Reality is isolated to a single unverifiable perspective and is a mere reflection of actual matter. Society is the pitifully repetitious attempt of various weak yet prideful species to surmount and ultimately devastate the order of nature. Relationships are pointless attempts at coexistence that will eventually fail and crumble due to disagreement or the simple passage of time. Mankind is not special. They simply grew the ability to ponder beyond mere survival and therefore placed themselves at the center of the grandiose tale of the universe. There is no benevolent god. Only a mage, able to bend time itself to his will, and this mage has grown tired of the never ending story of humanity and incessant machinations of Anu.


    I conceptually visualize the fourth dimension before me and begin to take hold. As I grip the immotion of time, I experience the essence of my being blend with the circular persistence and fade into nothingness and abundance simultaneously. Regardless, I feel no pain or pleasure. I examine the root of existence, of humanity specifically, and begin to gauge its objective value within arbitrary human ideals. Pollution, crime, prejudice, and hate versus innovation, collaboration, and love. The truth is clear. Despite the wondrous inventions and progress attained by modern civilization, the human race has acted like a cancer to the planet it inhabits, the other species around it, and even to itself. It has subverted the function of natural selection to an unsafe extreme, leading the Earth to a premature end. As I come to this conclusion and denounce the decisions of this planet¡¯s overseer, Nidaba¡¯s words return to me and echo in my mind,


    ¡°You are real. Life is worth living.¡±


    I begin to cry. The tears relentlessly stream down the sides of my face. Her smile. Her laugh. Her eyes. I fall to my knees, loosening my firm grip on the fourth dimension and instead grip my cold, wet face.


    ¡°What am I doing?¡± I question my own thoughts and actions for a brief moment, as time resumes it¡¯s regular pace.


    The purple aura emanating from Nidaba immediately explodes, launching me past the bench and street light.


    ¡°See?? Aren¡¯t you glad I brought you here?¡± Her words from the past continue to play within my mind against my will.


    Violet electricity rattles through the air, as the potency of mana continues to fluctuate uncontrollably at an immense level. I manage to catch a glimpse of the silver-haired mage, unleashing the entirety of her life force through strange attack magic, eviscerating the surrounding cloaked figures flawlessly. Her attacks, evasions, and movements fully captivate my attention for the last time, as she perfectly and unforgivingly removes each mage from the hell of existence. Soon, all threats are reduced to ash, and the light exuding from Nidaba fades. The woman turns to me and smiles one last time before collapsing to the ground. Lifeless.


    ¡°Adorable as ever, Maxie,¡± the flood of memories refuses to relent.


    I stumble towards her with the pitiful energy remaining within me. I manage to reach the woman, who has saved my life countless times and gently turn her on her back. Her bruised face still appears beautiful in the moonlight, as her soft, gray hair rests on the ground about her. She¡¯s perfect. I hold her coldly still body in my arms and rocking back and forth, begin to sob. Nidaba died because of me.


    I remain in the park, holding her corpse until the sun begins to rise to bring about an end to this horrid night. As I attempt to move with the cold body in my arms, it begins to grow much lighter, eventually becoming weightless and ephemeral. Suddenly and instantly, Nidaba vanishes before my eyes for the last time, leaving me alone in the park at dawn. Isolated. I find myself at a loss. I don¡¯t feel temperature, texture, or physical pain due to the buildup of complete tolerance to stimulation my nerves have undergone within the frozen time, and yet despite this, my chest aches with a horrendous and inexplicable pain. Subsistence itself is painful. I leave the park and start home, lacking any other options. I am lifeless. An almost sick feeling welling within me. A constant discomfort to my state of being. This is my isolated reality.


    I enter my Uncle¡¯s house and find him asleep on the couch, surrounded by empty beer cans. I slowly walk upstairs, enter my room, and lay in bed. My mind is blank. A constant anxiety of subsequent magical attacks haunts me all the while depression consumes my mind. Ambitionless, sad, and alone, I lie in bed, completely still, and begin to cry. The tears pour from my eyes uncontrollably, and as the pointlessness of life itself sets in, I am left alone in the confines of my mind with nothing but my terrifying thoughts.

 III: Holistic Culmination

    <h3 style="text-align: center">III


    Time. A simplistic four-letter word in the English language commonly defined as the indefinite continued progress of existence throughout events in the past, present, and future. This string of words encompassed by phonetic letter symbols comprises a singular concept within the human mind that, for many, escapes finite definition. What are the mechanics behind the unending and immutable passage of the fourth dimension? What prevents the manipulation of this dimension unlike the three preceding it? Why, simply put, is time cruel and unmalleable? A large portion of humans avoid this form of questioning and instead, mask their fear of an unplanned and happenstance reality behind self-serving human-centric religious imaginings. Despite the subsistence and popularity of these beliefs, there exists no grand plan for the universe. Humans are not the center of existence, and the possibility of any form of higher being behind the cruel passage of linear time is highly unlikely. Rather, as insignificant and powerless yet overly pompous and selfish beings secluded to a single planet within a single galaxy, humans are only left to wonder what exists beyond their grasp, while fabricating a violently foreboding historical record.


    Some unsure allotment of time ago, a single mage sacrificed her life to save mine, leaving me with one command: to live. Immediately following her death, I entered a deep state of depression. The passage of time seemed nonexistent, as I struggled to find meaning or value within the arduous struggle of life. I remained isolated within the protective yet entrapping walls of my room, undisturbed by my uncaring drunk of an Uncle. I stopped attending school. I stopped enjoying menial online entertainment. Depression, loss, fear, and emptiness consumed and ravaged my mind. Along with the cease of function within my nerves from the eternity spent frozen in time, I lost all ambition and drive within myself. Nothing mattered anymore and, honestly, nothing ever did. Humans innately believe themselves special and unique due to the nature of the isolated reality each individual possesses; however, viewing the entire species as a whole, the lack of ingenuity and creativity within a normal person is frightening. Furthermore, the immense yet unfounded hubris of the species merely works to intensify their incorrect notion of a right to exploit and dominate everything before them. With this realistic outlook upon the method of trial and error that is natural selection and the ¡°miracle¡± of human existence, the concepts of purpose and motivation completely abandoned my mind. Eventually kicked out by my Uncle and at a loss, I adhered to the mage¡¯s final words and left home in search of nothing, holding no true objective.


    Boarding a plane without knowing the destination and bringing nothing along with me, I somehow found myself in Cairo, Egypt. Now hungry, tired, broke, alone, and purposeless with no other options available to me, I begin to walk northeastward without a true reason for my continuation of subsistence. My exhausted muscles painlessly trudge along the poorly paved road covered in sand. The blazing sun relentlessly peers down upon my almost unconscious body stumbling along. Suddenly, a slight but notable breeze blows sand in my direction, but before the meddlesome particles burrow into the unreachable corners of my clothing, I freeze time. Whether by mastery or by the simple loss of feeling, the use of this ability no longer brings about unimaginable agony. The sand freezes in mid-air, as I halt my stride and remain motionless alongside the reality about me. I lifelessly gaze at the mass of random particles sent in my direction by the happenstance machinations of nature and manage an insignificant and empty smile.


    ¡°What¡¯s the point anymore?¡± I audibly question my still surroundings without expecting a response.


    ¡°A fair question.¡± A mysteriously reminiscent voice calls out to me.


    The voice permeates my mind, violently stimulating my every thought. That genuine curiosity masked behind smug sarcasm. Images begin to flash through my mind rapidly. The words spoken echo throughout my skull endlessly. The voice is undeniable. I slowly turn around, the world still frozen around me, and gaze upon nothing but sand caught and frozen in the wind.


    Of course not, I think to myself, my final semblance of hope withering into nothingness. I¡¯m losing my mind.


    I continue my meaningless trek, occasionally hearing the voice emanate from behind me. I must be going insane. After countless hours of walking, the sun sets, and I arrive at an abandoned camp. Realizing my complete lack of planning includes a lack of a place to sleep, I decide to rest my worn legs by the unlit campfire. I lay cold, motionless, and unable to sleep, lost in thought and attempting to escape consciousness for even the briefest reprieve from reality. As usual, I am unable to rest and, subsequently, dream. Perhaps the latter is for the best, as the sight of her would only bring about pain. Time passes. The heat that encompassed my body as I walked has morphed into a dry coolness. The moon shines atop the landscape, providing the only light in the surrounding darkness. I slowly open my eyes and gaze upon the night sky, tired of this state of existence. Tired of living.


    ¡°Hello?¡± a completely unknown voice calls out from the darkness.


    I quickly sit up and fearfully freeze time, images and memories of the robed mages surfacing in my mind. A small figure is visible, frozen within the darkness. I cautiously move towards it to confirm my dreadful suspicions and am thankfully proven wrong. Unable to move thanks to the forcefully halted fourth dimension, a hooded female, about the size of an adolescent child, with deep red eyes peers over a rock two meters from where I was laying. Hoping and more so believing the red-haired child to not be a threat, I return to the ground and unfreeze time.


    ¡°...Is someone there?¡± The girl finishes her question with the continued progression of time.


    ¡°Not anyone of note,¡± I reply, not moving to face the intruder of my isolated state.


    ¡°Woah! I can barely see you,¡± she remarks, seemingly surprised by my words.


    ¡°Congratulations, you saw me. Now you can leave.¡±


    ¡°Hmmm¡­¡± the girl begins, struggling to compile her few options. ¡°No, I don¡¯t think I will.¡±


    ¡°Look, I don¡¯t rea-¡± I exhaustedly begin but quickly stop myself upon fully sitting up and facing the child, whose poignant face appears much more solemn than when I saw it frozen in time.


    ¡°OH MY!!¡± she yells with fake excitement upon seeing my face and rushing towards me. ¡°Could it really be you??¡±


    ¡°What are you talking about?¡±


    ¡°It truly has been ages, Anki,¡± she provides a clear line of reasoning to my question, sending chills down my spine. ¡°I must warn you. The reincarnation spell has a mere 3.27% chance of success. Please, do not go through with it.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a little late for that,¡± I manage to compose myself, while masking my fear. ¡°I¡¯m the reincarnated Anki.¡±


    ¡°Oh...my¡­¡± The child replies filled with distraught, struggling to process the information. ¡°Then you do not know who I am?¡±


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Forgive me. I am Ersetsu, or at least that is the designation Anki gave me. What should I call you?¡±


    ¡°Max. I¡¯m sorry, did you say the designation Anki gave you?¡± I restate her words as a question to confirm their accuracy.


    ¡°Indeed I did speak that just now,¡± she plainly replies. ¡°Well before Anki ever thought about reincarnation, he created me from a derivation of his own consciousness to act as an assistant to his supernatural endeavors.¡±


    I stare blankly at the small child before me, dumbfounded by her words.


    ¡°Have I offended you?¡± Eretsu inquires, tilting her head to the right. ¡°I was created without emotions, so I often struggle to interact with others. I sincerely apologize,¡± the undoubtedly ancient youth suppliants for forgiveness for simply describing her situation.


    ¡°No, I¡­¡± I begin but struggle to find words to express my confusion. ¡°How did I not know about you?¡±


    ¡°Upon activating the reincarnation spell, all memories of Anki had to be repressed within the appropriate vessel, you, so that throughout the natural biological growth process, the reincarnation would remain stable and undisturbed by a mass influx of memories and knowledge,¡± Eretsu describes my extremely complex situation in depth.


    ¡°I knew that...I mean, why didn¡¯t Nidaba tell me about you?¡±


    ¡°Ah!¡± The girl emotionlessly exclaims, seeming to comprehend my understanding of myself more accurately. ¡°Subject 001, designated Nidaba, is unaware of my existence under Anki¡¯s orders. Reasoning: Nidaba would find my existence immoral.¡±


    ¡°An emotionless slave is pretty messed up,¡± I describe Eretsu¡¯s existence utilizing a more negative connotation. ¡°She would get upset.¡±


    ¡°Anki never treated me like a slave. He was efficient and grateful, unlike my current overseer,¡± the child scoffs upon mentioning ¡®the current overseer¡¯.


    ¡°Who do you mean by that?¡± I inquire of the derivation of Anki, while laying back and gazing upon the distant stars.


    ¡°Following Anki¡¯s sudden vanishment, Anu pillaged our lab and now forces me to be his assistant. Although, servitude is a better suited term,¡± Eretsu defeatedly explains. ¡°That¡¯s why I¡¯m here, looking for you.¡±


    ¡°Wait¡­¡± I start, terrified by her implications. ¡°That means yo-¡±


    ¡°I do not wish to assist Anu any longer. He¡¯s bothersome,¡±


    ¡°Does Anu have a way to track you?¡± I question the child, still filled with paranoia.


    ¡°None that I¡¯m aware of.¡±


    ¡°Seems like a bit of an oversight on his part,¡± I jokingly comment, filled with an odd contentedness.


    ¡°I have searched all day today and require rest,¡± Eretsu abruptly changes the topic as if set on an automated programming. ¡°Proceeding to sleep.¡±


    The scarlet-haired child suddenly collapses on the ground next to me, concluding our estranged dialogue. Speaking with Eretsu allots an unforseen oddity to my cognizance. She seems entirely uninterested in everything, yet subsists with a familiar desire for understanding. The miniature assistant remains still to my side, fully asleep in a few moments. Silence permeates the atmosphere, and I, once again, am left alone with my thoughts.


    What am I doing here? How the hell did Anki derive an existence from himself? Why is she a child? Why is she a she? I hope Anu doesn¡¯t find me.


    The pessimistically self-conscious thoughts continue to swirl about my brain, as the morning sun slowly peaks over the horizon line, illuminating the vastly barren landscape around the two of us. The deep blue hue about the sandy environment morphs into a pinkish red; all the while, Eretsu remains asleep, quietly breathing way too close to me. I slowly rise to my feet, unable to halt my mind with the gentle embrace of unconsciousness but am abruptly stopped by a familiar voice.


    ¡°Adorable as ever, Maxie,¡± she cheerfully proclaims to me.


    The voice is painful. It echoes within my mind, bringing about memories I¡¯ve strenuously worked to repress. Overwhelming sadness fills my being, as I quickly turn around, clinging to the slightest hope of envisioning her pale gray eyes once more and am, of course, met with the same barren landscape and sleeping child as before. Tears begin to well in the corners of my eyes, and I fall to my knees.


    ¡°Why?¡± I quietly interrogate the hateful machinations of the universe. ¡°Just¡­ stop.¡±


    After a moment, I grip my face and wipe the tears from my eyes. I hate letting it get to me. Eretsu remains asleep, undisturbed by my movements. I feel empty. Lost. Alone. The ephemeral feeling of content brought upon by my conversation with the child quickly escapes me, leaving only a bitter outlook on the world. Hatefully aggravated thoughts and ideas soon resurface, and a horrendously frightening dread overwhelms me. I suddenly feel exhausted and overcome with sorrow and grief upon hearing the voice, quickly succumb to sleep where I fell.


    I awake to the blistering sun blazing upon my pale skin, while laying in the same place I collapsed. As a paranoid precaution, I freeze time before moving and survey my surroundings. Eretsu is sitting with her back towards me, concentrating on a strange device sitting in her lap. The sun has risen a fair amount since I succumbed to exhaustion, as I look at my unmoving watch to learn the time is 10:38 AM. Realizing the lack of threats about me, I unfreeze time and begin to rise to my feet once more.


    ¡°Good morning, Max. Did you sleep well?¡± The scarlet-haired child turns to me and speaks.


    ¡°Not particularly, you?¡±


    ¡°I do not dream; therefore, sleep is a neutral state for me regardless.¡±


    ¡°Must be nice.¡±


    ¡°Strange. Anki once told me the same thing,¡± Eretsu remarks plainly.


    ¡°Well, I am hi-¡± I cut myself off, unsure of how to word the statement. ¡°He is...? We are each other?¡±


    ¡°You share the same root of existence as Anki, but the two of you have fundamentally separate existences. To claim to be the same as him is inaccurate. Simply put, you are a reset version of Anki, labeled Max. An entirely separate individual of a brand new species.¡±


    ¡°If you say so,¡± I answer the convoluted explanation, turning away to begin walking once more.


    ¡°Where is your intended destination, Max?¡± Eretsu inquires from behind me.


    ¡°Don¡¯t have one.¡±


    ¡°Interesting. A key difference between yourself and Anki lies in aimlessness.¡±


    ¡°How kind of you to say,¡± I sarcastically respond to the emotionless derivation¡¯s comparison.


    I restart my aimless trek through Egypt with the scarlet-haired derivation following close behind. The inquisitive yet somewhat comforting dialogue continues between us, as the warm morning air slowly reverts to the hot and dry climate with the rotation of the Earth. Each stride upon the sandy ground bears an indescribable weight. My legs feel heavy to the point of weakness, as the inescapable existential dread resumes within my mind. Eretsu continues to mark comparisons between myself and Anki, as I begin to lose my grip upon reality itself, lifelessly marching along. My thoughts instantly turn to my reasoning for embarking on this trip in the first place, or more accurately, my lack of one. I have no reason to be here. I have no reason for anything. I¡¯ve felt entirely aimless for what feels like my entire life, and the single person to enlighten a semblance of ambition within my muddled and useless soul is gone thanks to my overall inability to do anything.


    What¡¯s the point?  I summarize my thoughts into a single question in my head.


    ¡°Max!¡± Eretsu shouts quietly into my ear, returning my mind to the bleakness of reality. ¡°Are you listening to me?¡±


    ¡°No, I wasn¡¯t,¡± I barely manage to speak after taking a moment to snap out of the lull. ¡°Sorry, I zoned out.¡±


    ¡°What has brought you to this location? I had a much lower probability of finding you compared to Anu and am therefore surprised to find you here,¡± Eretsu provides the rationale behind her question after asking it.


    ¡°Nothing brought me here but chance. I boarded a random plane and ended up in Cairo.¡±


    ¡°The likelihood of that occurring is insurmountably low,¡± the girl retorts my claim.


    ¡°Fate has a strange way of going about things, doesn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°Do you believe in fate, Max?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t believe in much of anything anymore,¡± I exasperatedly answer her vague inquiry.


    ¡°Interesting. You mentioned her earlier, and Anki and subject 001 were very close. Where is Nidaba?¡± Eretsu innocently asks, causing my throat to tighten and contort.


    ¡°Nidaba is-¡± I begin to explain what occurred all that time ago but am interrupted by a dramatically ominous shift in our environment.


    Instantaneously, the blue sky morphs into a deep red and the yellow sun into a fully opaque black. The slight breeze is completely lost, as all movement and regular processes about the two of us freeze. Eretsu appears terrified by the change. I stand, staring directly into the dark pit that consumed the sun, in complete awe of the intricate magecraft cast upon us. Suddenly, a voice, seemingly emanating from every direction, bellows,


    ¡°Anki,¡± the name brings about memories from the attack of the mages. ¡°There is no one to save you this ti-¡±


    Upon hearing the foreboding words of the voice surrounding us, I freeze time. Other than Eretsu¡¯s lack of movement, not much of the scene around me undergoes immediate change, as everything had already been halted by the mysterious magecraft. Fear consumes my being, but knowing a panicked state will only serve to assist this newfound threat, I calm my nerves and begin to formulate a vague outline of a plan. Before collecting my thoughts to discover an exit from this debacle, I am startled by the voice once more.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t think your time magic would work on me, did you?¡± The mage mocks my attemptive precaution, appearing before me instantaneously. ¡°Just because it¡¯s unique to you, doesn¡¯t mean it¡¯s special.¡±


    The mage stands at least fifty centimeters taller than me and carries a terrifying presence. Much like Nergal, he peers into the depths of my soul with deep red eyes. His snow white hair rests upon his shoulders, and adorned upon him is an ash gray robe. The man devilishly smirks upon realizing my surprise to his appearance amidst the frozen fourth dimension and speaks once more, his voice still emanating completely about me.


    ¡°I see your memories and mana are still suppressed,¡± he begins. ¡°Too bad Nidaba didn¡¯t have time to release the limiter. I suppose that¡¯s my fault, though.¡±Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    ¡°Limiter? What are you talking about?¡± I suspiciously inquire of the white-haired mage before me, growing angry upon hearing her name spoken aloud.


    ¡°This may be entertaining yet! Your little project, Eretsu, is here as well, although you froze her,¡± he replies almost giddily, ignoring my question. ¡°You may call me Anu. I sent the mages that caused Nidaba¡¯s death; an unfortunate outcome I somehow failed to foresee.¡±


    A seething rage encompasses my person. This is the individual responsible for her death. Aware of my ineptitude in magecraft other than the ability to freeze time and cast completely crippling expulsion arts, I realize the dire predicament Eretsu and I are in and attempt to avoid conflict, despite my hatred for the excuse of a creature before me.


    ¡°What do you want from me?¡± I ask, trying to prolong the conversation.


    ¡°An answer, Anki,¡± the towering mage responds bluntly. ¡°Furthermore, I¡¯m simply attempting to rid myself of boredom. A feat, I must add, you may just have the ability to achieve.¡±


    ¡°Why did you¡­¡± I begin but quickly stop, preventing myself from growing more aggravated. ¡°Nidaba didn¡¯t deserve to die.¡±


    ¡°Oh? Is that so??  Who determined that? You??¡± Anu sarcastically retorts. ¡°Death is confirmed upon birth, Anki. Without a final end point, life, as you know it, holds no value. We all deserve death at one instant or another. I suppose fate had run its course with our silver-haired friend.¡±


    ¡°How dare you speak about her like that!? You¡¯re the one that caused her death.¡±


    ¡°Struck a nerve, have I?¡± Anu remarks, clearly deriving pleasure from my anger. ¡°If anything other than her stupidly selfless actions caused her death, I¡¯d say it was you. I mean, she was protecting you, wasn¡¯t she?¡±


    ¡°I KNOW THAT!!¡± I shout full of frustration, self-loathing, and general hatred for the world about me. ¡°I know¡­ I carry the burden of my inability to help her, but still, you sent the threat she was protecting me from in the first place.¡±


    ¡°Fair point. I suppose the credit should be split fifty-fifty between you and I,¡± the mage partly recedes his earlier accusation, attempting and succeeding to aggravate me further.


    ¡°Enough of this,¡± I shout, attempting quelling my fury. ¡°Why are you here?¡±


    ¡°I believe I already answered that question, but to be more specific, you have the answer I seek. The truth behind this aimless existence that I replicated for you, Nidaba, and all the other worthless creatures on this planet.¡±


    ¡°The existence you...replicated??¡± I question the ashen mage¡¯s words.


    ¡°You truly are clueless compared to¡­what did Nidaba call him? Maximilian?? The you before you idiotically performed that reincarnation spell. I mean I know mana is based upon one¡¯s life force, but merely doubling yours still places you leagues behind my perfect existence¡±


    ¡°How do you know she¡­ who...what are you?¡±


    ¡°As I said earlier, I am Anu. The original and, thanks to Nidaba, final mage.¡±


    ¡°I have no idea what you¡¯re talking about, and I don¡¯t have any answers to the grandiose questions you pose,¡± I attempt to dissuade the undeniably violent preconceptions Anu holds against me.


    ¡°Hmm? You see¡­therein lies the issue, you do possess them. You just don¡¯t realize it. In fact, I¡¯m sure you would reach the same conclusion as before even if I left your memories and mana repressed,¡± the mage deviously scoffs, displaying teeth better described as fangs. ¡°I¡¯m aware you don¡¯t quite understand magecraft at this point, so let me describe the mystic repressing you simply. Maximilian formulated a conditional limiter alongside the casting of the reincarnation spell upon himself prior to his demise at my hands twenty or so human years ago. The limiter applies a set of conditions to unlock the dormant magical circuits within you. Maximilian did this so that upon rebirth, you wouldn¡¯t accidentally activate your ¡®inane¡¯ amount of mana, destroying your surroundings.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s great and all, but I don¡¯t know how to unlock the limiter nor do I have any desire to do so.¡±


    ¡°How dull. I feel we could have a blast if you¡¯d let me release your mana. Say...like this.¡± The mage annonces, while gliding towards me at an inhuman speed.


    Upon arriving directly before me, Anu places his index and middle fingers upon my forehead and chants in a foregin tongue before I am able to react. My nerves erupt in pain, a feeling lost to me since my eternity spent in frozen time. The agony is excruciating, and I can¡¯t help but scream. Blood seeps from my eyes. My entire body feels enthralled by an inconceivably blazing heat. Anu quickly leaps backwards, landing at least twenty meters away from me. The dark pit in the sky vanishes suddenly, yet the scene remains sunlessly barren and devoid of the central source of life on Earth. The environment adopts a petrifying darkness, leaving nothing but the white mage full of anticipation within my field of vision.


    ¡°Come Anki!! Let¡¯s have some fun!!!¡± he bellows, his curiosity morphing into excitement.


    Losing focus due to the pain, I unfreeze time and continue to seize in agony on the sandy ground. Eretsu, now unfrozen, rushes towards Anu and begins to chant in the familiar foreign tongue, while I am barely able to remain conscious to watch them clash, no less help. Basqued in a crumbling reality, I watch as Anu drives his right hand through Eretsu¡¯s chest. Unbridled terror encompassing my mind, I soon fall into a dark and empty pit, surrounded by abundant nothingness. Memories from my previous life flood into my head. I envision countless scenes between myself and Nidaba and am soon lost within my own mind.


    I am surrounded by a vast forest with an uncountable number of enormous trees. Before me is a woman with silver hair. I am nameless, yet I exist all the same.


    ¡°Hello. I¡¯m sure you¡¯re confused, but this is secular existence. The existence you were gifted,¡± I speak to the woman with words that are not my own, as she stares blankly in my direction. ¡°Come with me.¡±


    Without speaking, the woman nods and grabs my arm. The act is unexpected and unnecessary, but I allow it. I begin to walk through the forest with a clear objective that I am unaware of. Eventually, we arrive at what seems to be a shrine made of clay. At the front is a large staircase that appears to go on endlessly yet has a clear destination. Starting up the stairs, the woman begins to slow her pace and peers upon the end of the incline with tremendous fear. I notice her terror but am unable to stop my ascent upwards, dragging her along with me. Upon reaching the top, a towering individual with white hair and deep red eyes greets us with a devilish smile.


    ¡°Welcome, subjects 000 and 001. How has this reality treated you thus far?¡± The man speaks with an ominous tone.


    The woman cowers in fear behind me, grasping my arm even tighter, as the mysterious grip upon my actions is released, granting me free will. Fear, likely similar to that of the silver-haired woman behind me, fills my now uncontrolled being; however, an inexplicable curiosity overcomes the terror.


    ¡°Who are you?¡± The words spill from my lips, holding no true meaning to me.


    ¡°I am Anu, your creator and, if all goes well, your friend. You must have many questions, but these are for you to answer.  Trust me, it is much more satisfying to discover than to be taught.¡±


    ¡°What do you-¡± I begin to further my questioning but am suddenly interrupted by the snap of Anu¡¯s fingers.


    ¡°Now, begone. Return when you have answers.¡±


    Upon speaking these words, the shrine around us vanishes, and I am left alone with the woman in the single clearing of the forest where the structure once stood. I turn to face her pale gray eyes and cannot help smiling. The vast and empty world is open for us to explore, unperturbed by outside forces.


    ¡°Who are you?¡± She speaks to me with genuine curiosity.


    ¡°I have no name. Who are you?¡± I respond with the same question.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. We should give each other names.¡±


    ¡°Nidaba,¡± I reply with the first string of syllables that come to mind, uninterested by her desire to vocally label each other. ¡°That work?¡±


    ¡°Mhm,¡± she quickly replies, averting her gaze with bits of red in her face. ¡°...Max?¡± She shyly asks searching for approval.


    ¡°If that¡¯s what you want, it doesn¡¯t matter to me.¡±


    The memories following this initial root of existence continue to flood my mind. I recall the subsequent creation of more creatures resembling but not identical to the woman and myself. I recall our discovery of the arcane ability to manipulate and control elements and matter. I recall the other creatures attempting and succeeding to change my vocal designation to Anki. I recall conflict on violent and nonviolent scales. I recall camaraderie. I recall animosity. I recall our initial failures. I recall our initial triumphs. I recall the creation of the achithymia, humanity, and countless other derivations of Anu¡¯s consciousness all for the sake of an empty question. I recall everything.


    ¡°That Anu has always been overly cocksure, hasn¡¯t he?¡± The voice echoes through my mind.


    ¡°Nidaba?¡± I question the surrounding darkness, but soon remember the impossibility of my hope. ¡°Please...no more. Just stop,¡± I beg for my isolated mind to cease.


    A warm hand touches my face and the voice continues, ¡°It¡¯s okay, Max. You¡¯re whole now.¡±


    I slowly lift my head and envision her comforting eyes. Her silver hair. Her comely smile. Tears begin to swell in my eyes, and my throat tightens. I embrace the figment of my mind, trembling within the warmth of her warm chest. I know she isn¡¯t real. I know this is secluded to my head. I don¡¯t care. Nidaba is here before me. Alive. The tears refuse to stop, as she speaks, caressing my messy hair,


    ¡°It¡¯s okay, Max. I¡¯m here.¡±


    Time holds no meaning in this dark pit about the two of us, thus I¡¯m unsure how long I hold her due to my fear of her definite ephemerality. Eventually, I collect myself and gaze upon her face, as she stares through me just like she always used to.


    ¡°What is this? How is this possible?¡± I finally speak.


    ¡°This is the collective subconscious of life itself. All things, past, present, and future, are kept here,¡± Nidaba speaks in her usual intellectual manner. ¡°I¡¯m not a figment, Maxie. It¡¯s the manifestation of your perception of me while I was with you via the collective mana source of life itself.¡±


    ¡°Then it is a figment,¡± I defeatedly translate her overly complex explanation.


    ¡°If that¡¯s how you wanna look at it, pessimistic as ever,¡± she replies in a playful tone, rolling her pale eyes.


    Her response comforts and pains me simultaneously. Death is irreversible. I know that, and even still, I had held a semblance of hope that it was truly her. The encompassing darkness is terrifying, yet I feel secure in the presence of Nidaba.


    ¡°Sooooo...who¡¯s the redhead?¡± the mage inquires of me curiously.


    ¡°A derivation of Anki¡¯s consciousness?¡± I unsurely indulge her inquiry, repeating the words Eretsu spoke to me. ¡°I don¡¯t really understand her myself.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe that idiot actually went through with that. Unbelievable.¡± Nidaba scoffs through concerned frustration. ¡°More importantly though, do you really remember everything?¡±


    ¡°I do. I didn¡¯t experience these events, but I recall them perfectly.¡±


    ¡°Then you need to listen to what I¡¯m about to say,¡± the silver-haired woman quickly switches to a serious tone. ¡°Despite what he might tell you, Anu is not a perfect being. He is just like you and me, except he doesn¡¯t know who created him or why. In his pursuit for entertainment and an explanation for his existence, he has gone insane. He believes you have the answers, as crazy as that sounds, and will attack you regardless of what you say to him. This is why you performed the reincarnation spell: to duplicate and effectively double your mana supply, so you could defend yourself.¡±


    ¡°I know, Nidaba. I remember everything. Didn¡¯t I just tell you that?¡± I reply with a smile after letting her provide exposition one last time.


    ¡°Okay, smartass.¡± she insults me. ¡°Then why¡¯d you let me explain all that??¡±


    ¡°I just wanted to hear you talk.¡±


    ¡°Heh,¡± she exasperatedly sighs and then grants me her beautiful smile, saying, ¡°Adorable as ever, Ma-¡±


    I open my eyes and view the bleak, sandy reality from before, filled by a bleeding Eretsu and somewhat anxious Anu. The scarlet-haired child gazes upon me with relief, blood spilling from the hole in her chest. I freeze time, preventing Eretsu from continuing to bleed out. Anu also freezes, but as if breaking free from an icy captivity, slowly begins to move again until finally speaking,


    ¡°That one¡­¡± he begins while still attempting to free himself from the motionless fourth dimension. ¡°...was much stronger. It appears you may be entertaining after all.¡±


    ¡°I feel I should thank you. If you hadn¡¯t gotten rid of that limiter, I wouldn¡¯t have stood a chance.¡±


    ¡°Oho?? And now you do???¡± The mage remarks through confidently assured laughter.


    ¡°There¡¯s really only one way to find out.¡±


    Anu displays his fang-like teeth in a foreboding smirk and begins to chant flame magic in the Runic tongue. The aura is overwhelming and far exceeds my own, despite the doubled mana supply and removal of the limiter. Overpowering him with strength is out of the question; I have to find another way. Realizing this, I begin to chant an identical spell to meet his in order to stall him for even a brief moment. The mystical masses of pure red fire collide in an explosion that can only be described as fantastically spectacular. Immediately upon their collision, Anu leaps through the dissipating flames and rapidly moves in my direction. Mimicking Nidaba who was originally mimicking me, I assume the uncanny stance and summon the dual-bladed dagger, bracing myself for a flurry of attacks. As if he was a tiger finally closing in on its prey, Anu pounces upon me, clashing his eerily sharp claws with my manifested obsidian knife. Aware that the spell I began moments ago will require more time to activate, I attempt to match his unmatchable speed, blocking and countering his incessant attempts to tear into my vulnerable flesh. Despite succeeding to a manageable degree, Anu rips open my left forearm and wholly pierces my lower right abdomen. I panic and halt the spell in process to cast spatial disruption about me, forcing the ashen mage to leap backwards, avoiding the obliteration of matter.


    ¡°Is this all??¡± He disappointedly questions me. ¡°Sixty five million years in the making and this is all the strength you can muster???¡±


    I ignore his comments, keeping my focus on the challenge before me. The destroyed matter would normally form a vacuum resulting in a black hole, but thanks to the frozen fourth dimension, the matter seemingly vanishes. Unsure if Anu is aware of this, I attempt to utilize the dangerous theory to my advantage and quickly unfreeze and refreeze time, creating an encompassing pit of nothingness about me. My reality begins to fall apart, as I place the entirety of my focus upon reformulating the time art I halted in a panic. My limbs begin to stretch and my vision becomes distorted due to my proximity to the even horizon, so I close my eyes, hoping Anu remains distracted. My hope was unfounded.


    ¡°Did you think a black hole would frighten me!?¡± Anu shouts, as a horrendously icy hand pierces through my chest.


    Blood rushes into my mouth and soon seeps through the corners of my lips. I feel no pain, but my body is quickly enveloped by a terrifying cold. My head falls back. I gaze upon the arbitrary movement of the clouds strewn across the sky and despite how easy it would be, refuse to let my mind wander from the spell I¡¯ve been amassing.


    ¡°I can¡¯t...focus,¡± I manage to mumble, still in a daze from the hand firmly planted through my torso.


    ¡°What¡¯s there to focus on?¡± Anu pompously remarks, quickly pulling his hand from my person, opening the wound, and allowing red ichor to gush from my torn organs and tissue. ¡°I missed your heart, so you have a few minutes until you fully lose your grip on existence. NOW, tell me what you discovered with Nidaba all those years ago.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no...not¡­¡± I ramble, falling to the ground in a pool of my own blood. ¡°Nothing...there¡¯s no point to any of it.¡±


    ¡°ANKI!!¡± Anu screeches filled with pure, unreasoned hatred. ¡°ANSWER YOUR CREATOR!!!¡±


    Having forgone every aspect of the world about me, I continue to amass the perversion of the fourth dimension until it finally reaches completion. Completely out of options, I unleash the untested ability, unaware of the dangers it may cause.


    ¡°What are yo-¡± Anu begins but is cut off by the complete breakdown of reality apropos to my releasing of the time art.


    Similarly to the night Nidaba died, the fourth dimension appears before me, entirely malleable. The cold feeling brought upon by the hole in my chest instantly dissipates, and I rise, completely enveloped by darkness. I grasp the circular motion of time and begin to move with it without actually moving at all. My surroundings are a mystery to me, and my collection of sensory information feels limited and expansive at the same time. I trace the cycle to its beginning only to find its end and visually manifest whatever it is I discovered. A frightfully gorgeous scene of cosmic emptiness appears before me with a single point containing everything that has, is, and will exist. The speck is unimaginably dense with an absurd amount of matter packed into a space no larger than a Planck unit. My consciousness innately drifts towards this area of everything, attempting to escape the vastness of nothing about me.


    Traversing from nowhere to somewhere, I arrive at the point of existence itself. The purpose of this speck of unnecessary matter lies in its lack of one. It has no reason for subsistence. It has no cause for existence. It simply is. The point is beautiful and hideous. Hopeful and apathetic. Organized and in shambles. Good and evil. Light and dark. Balanced. All of it is clearly defined and melded together, creating no room for connotation or prejudice.


    ¡°There is no answer. No real point¡­¡± my thoughts emanate in the nothingness about me. ¡°That¡¯s the horrifying beauty of it all. The freedom from machination beyond control. The freedom of a creatorless existence. The only purpose is to find a purpose. To find a reason for subsistence.¡±


    Knowing my purpose without ever being told, I set the speck into motion, causing a wondrous explosion of matter around the vague outline of my existence. The nothingness is soon replaced by ever expanding matter, and my consciousness is sucked back to the void, the fourth dimension before me once more. I remain motionless in the pit and ponder my newfound options. Eventually, I rise and move towards the cycle of time, grasping it, and locating my initial root of existence.


    The vast forest instantly appears before me, the temple of Anu not far from where I stand. Before me is a woman with silver hair. I am nameless, yet I exist all the same. Unable to control my own actions, I repeat our dialogue and lead Nidaba to the temple, until I am finally freed from Anu¡¯s control. As soon as I am able to, I freeze time, and everything, including Anu who¡¯s mana supply merely matches mine at this moment due to his more recent creation, remains still about me. I quickly rush towards the integral of the derivative of life, terrified that he¡¯ll manage to break free from the bounded fourth dimension, as he so easily does in the future, and snap his feeble neck like a twig. I unfreeze time and his body falls to the floor lifelessly, as Nidaba screams in terror, bearing witness to the first murder on Earth. I look down upon my hands and at the corpse before me, as the temple vanishes, leaving only myself and Nidaba in the empty clearing where the clay structure once stood. Overcome with joy and satisfaction but completely drained of energy, I collapse into the grass and lose consciousness instantly.


    Soon, I awake to a dark sky filled with specks of infinitesimally distant light. Overwhelmed with terror, I rapidly sit up and survey my surroundings to find a single silver-haired woman about thirty meters away from me, rocking back and forth to amass a semblance of warmth within the sunless atmosphere around us. She notices my awakening and fearfully covers her ears, burying her face into her knees. I slowly approach the mage and sit across from the terror-filled woman with my legs crossed. I deeply exhale, still rattled by my earlier experience and actions against Anu, and speak.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry for frightening you, but I had to do that for both of our sakes. I¡¯ll explain it all later. For now, I am Max, and I want to be clear that I mean you no harm.¡±


    The silver-haired woman lifts her head from her knees and gazes directly into my pupils. Her pale gray eyes pierce my dull brown irises, and she manages a scared but genuine smile. She¡¯s beautiful. Tears begin to well within my eyes, as I am overcome with emotion by the sight of her face. She¡¯s really here. Alive. Unable to formulate any words, I embrace Nidaba and continue to sob, while holding her fragile person. Undoubtedly surprised and confused by my actions, she remains motionless for a moment before accepting my embrace and comforting me.


    ¡°I¡¯m not...sure what¡¯s happening,¡± she speaks with her wondrously curious tone. ¡°But, I trust you, Max. Max...hmmm, Maaax,¡± Nidaba repeats my name as if searching for something within the arbitrary construction of the syllable. ¡°Something about that feels off. How about Maxie?¡±


    I finally relent my tears and loosen my grip upon the silver-haired mage before me, saying, ¡°You can call me whatever you want, Nidaba.¡±