《Gaia —Violent Hierarchy—》 Chapter 001 ¡°Horrible. A damned travesty, this is. Have any of you ever read something of quality?¡± The Playwright, much to his credence, never was much for finishing his works. It was a shameful practice, and even in the throes of creative desperation, he threw himself deeper into the craft¡ªand spoke arrogantly to those spirits that accosted him, blaspheming against the Grand Poet who gave him the gift of prophecy and tongues. He crumpled the pages, abandoning the ink-soaked parchment for a new sheet. A ream of off-white cream papers was stacked to his side, a number of half-opened books for meticulous research scattered along the length of the desk. His feather-pen, a gift from a comrade in a much more pleasant time, remained slicked with red-tinged fluid. ¡°Pray tell, Grand Poet. What is it he desires?¡± It was the most important question, of course. But, it was one that had been asked, again and again, forever becoming altered and serving little purpose other than to inform the next story. The Playwright sought another one of those ¡°Magna Opera,¡± a work of unrivaled, infinite creative genius. It required¡ªof course, it required¡ªa particular number of base essentials, and such was impossible to procure for any normal human. To channel that of the muses, is what was performed in the most ancient of times. But, for the Playwright, he sought not any particular entity¡ªbut instead, the entire world. ¡°¡®Lo, Morpheus! To ye, I offer another memory. Take what you will¡ªLeave me with the burden of conveyance.¡± And, so it shall be.

Chapter One

His arrival to Grand City was precluded by those darkened skies. The once-prosperous metropolis maintained its attempt at escaping the sterility of grayness, shackled to an island that had been besieged by haze and admonished by gloom. Even from a great distance, its perdition was visible through blackened clouds and shattered lands, appearing to have erupted in a great cataclysm many aeons ago. But, it was only seven years that had passed, and humanity had still not adapted to such. ¡°What a dreadful sight.¡± He spoke aloud to none in particular, peering aloft towards those broken crags that populate the Null Island, the land at the center of the world. Little of the people who flocked to the region would be able to withstand the intensity of the dread, wherein death had made itself present eternally¡ªYet, that damned association continues to harken to all those who seek a better life, calling forth those who they deem worthy. Xorin was one such person. ¡°Compass, is what I seek in this city?¡± The device in his hands was of a strange, foreign design. An assortment of aureate materials encircled an ocean of blue marble, creating the foundation of the compass, and many concentric rings ensnared the center in an array of stars. Three bearings of white stone lay in grooves round the edge, and they spun to form the precise direction that must be followed¡ªan arrowhead marking the path. The material of the compass vibrated, and Xorin smiled. ¡°...You¡¯re honestly right. Perhaps, once I am accomplished, I shall find what I am looking for.¡± He turned away from the dreary scenery, and relinquished himself to a short reprieve, traveling the length of the iron railing that encompassed the ship. It was a wayfaring galleon, though modified with the proper implements of travelling dangerous lands, and from that came an oppressive mood that did little to ease the mind. Though not wholly unbothered, Xorin found himself in good company; He pulled from his pocket a pack of cigarettes, and placed a filtered end into his mouth. It ignited by itself, and created a purplish smog against a black cherry. He inhaled, finding himself in the shadow of the helm, and went to speak. ¡°Smoking at such a young age is terrible for your lungs.¡± He was interrupted, a presence appearing to his side. It was shadowed by animosity, though it was not directed towards Xorin himself, and the blackened mass that populated its form held little to make out beyond a silhouette. Only the yellowed eyes, and the vague purple hue of its flesh made any semblance of personality beyond words. ¡°You¡¯ve come to me more frequently in these times, Beast. Where¡¯s the warmth you once had?¡± Tsk. ¡°You¡¯re still following the Compass; I¡¯m forced to accompany you as such. Much of this journey has been¡­ less than fortunate for myself, and I believe you to be purposefully extending it. Why not simply return home?¡± The Beast retorted, and Xorin contemplated for a moment. ¡°Returning home, at such a point, where I am penniless and without any merit, would be sinful. Something like you understands as much, no?¡± Xorin flicked the cigarette, a flake of gray falling to the deck. ¡°We have not reached even the precipice of the first trial, Beast. Remain patient, and we shall be rewarded greatly.¡± ¡°Do you believe yourself capable, or are you simply suicidal?¡± His silence amused the Beast. ¡°The Guild Association values those who have something worthwhile. What do you have to offer them, Xorin? You¡¯re not much of anything¡ªLittle more than a child, I¡¯d say. Do you even remember why you left?¡± ¡°Enough, Beast. If you have nothing to offer, I¡¯d prefer the silence.¡± ¡°Very well. Don¡¯t be disappointed when nothing comes from your struggle.¡± The Beast dispersed into a number of particulates, colored darker than its flesh and swirling in a mass of heavy spheres, and receded into nothingness. It was a common sight for Xorin, yet even he was perturbed by the suddenness and intensity of such an action. Many times, the creature had come to the man, but never once had it seemed so antagonistic. It was as if, overtime, the Beast had grown resentful of himself, as if Xorin were responsible for its condition. Compass vibrated again. ¡°Apologies, did you want to say something?¡± Xorin inhaled from the cigarette once more, disregarding the snide comments Beast had made, and repetitively rubbed his thumb across Compass. The device always had such a calming presence, and it was only capable of being heard by himself, making it all the more disheartening when it would speak of loneliness. The man did his best to speak to it often, but supposed that he himself was not enough to care for the object. You should rest, soon. It would tell him. You have much to look forward to by evening. ¡°Evening is far from now, Compass. What of the afternoon?¡± You¡¯ll make a friend, I suppose. ¡°A friend, huh?¡± The man gave a smile, a hint of melancholy adorning his eyes. ¡°That¡¯s something I haven¡¯t had in a long time. Are you sure of such things, Compass?¡± Compass vibrated numerous times in a row, warming to the touch. ¡°Right, right. You¡¯re never wrong, after all.¡± He finished the cigarette, placing the Compass into his pocket. It was rather cold upon the ship, and had become a deep chill the further into the Zero Sea he had gone, as if Grand City were the source of the unnatural, bittered winter. His white coat did little to appease him in such weather, but it offered more comfort than the alternative of being without it, and so he appreciated his father¡¯s kindness of passing down such to him. Xorin sighed. It wouldn¡¯t be the first time he slept on a deck.
Footsteps reached him before he was fully cognizant and awake. Xorin¡¯s eyes opened placidly, his vision blurred and scanning the environs for the source of the sound; He was greeted by the appearance of two swordsmen, a man and a woman, of which they appeared strange and foreign to himself. Most particularly, he first assumed them to be incredibly wealthy, on the fact their hairs were dyed a mixture of blue and scarlet respectively, until it became clear that even their eyes were marbled with the same colorings. They sported the same uniform, appearing militaristic and marked with the symbol of the World Atlas upon their brooch. Both their hands rested on the hilt of their scabbards, though Xorin felt no signs of any direct danger or animosity¡ªAnd, so, he responded graciously, giving a soft smile. ¡°Greetings. I assume you were looking for myself?¡± Heh. ¡°Something like that. How has the journey been so far, Xorin?¡± The man questioned, kneeling in front of his newfound conversational partner and taking a seat. He kept one leg outward, while the other was tucked to his chest. The woman, however, continued to stand, apparently aloof and disinterested in Xorin himself. ¡°It¡¯s certainly been an adventure, I¡¯ll say that much. Not much has happened since I left the Loft, however¡ªIt¡¯s just been weeks of straight sailing. It¡¯s quite nice to be left alone with my thoughts from time to time. What time is it, if I might ask? And, if it isn¡¯t too much trouble, your name would be appreciated.¡± The woman pulled from her pocket a time-telling device, holding it out to be viewed by all present¡ª10:30 AM. ¡°I am Nero¡ªof the Voclain family.¡± ¡°Viktoriya,¡± The woman added, ¡°Same family.¡± ¡°Ah, well, then, Nero, Viktoriya. How has your travels been? I suppose you''re military men, but I''m not sure where you¡¯ve come from. That means you''ve traveled far, yes?¡± Xorin took note of the fact the ship had not yet stopped, which the implications of such¡ªalongside the knowledge they had already known his name¡ªdid not bode well for. Yet, the pair exchanged looks, and even Viktoriya gave a small smile. ¡°We have traveled quite some ways. It''s been ages since anyone asked us our thoughts¡ªWe¡¯re awfully tired, but there''s much work to be done.¡± Nero explained, and from such, Viktoriya continued the conversation. ¡°In particular, Xorin, we''re here to ensure you pass the trials. The Guild Association needs strong recruits, yes, but it also needs those with connections to other organizations. You understand that much, don''t you?¡± Hmm. ¡°I suppose I do. You need a way to communicate readily with my father, don''t you? Such is expected, but I don''t believe myself necessary for that cause.¡± Another exchange of looks. Viktoriya shook her head. ¡°We already have a way in with the Coffin-Bearer. We were referring to your¡­ abilities, so to speak.¡± ¡°You mean my Birthright?¡± ¡°Precisely,¡± Nero interrupted, ¡°Your Essence is an incredible tool. We have some knowledge on it, though beyond the term, there isn''t much that we can do beyond requesting you to¡­ perform, I believe is the word.¡± ¡°What do you need me to do?¡± Nero and Viktoriya exchanged another look, before wicked grins came across their faces. ¡°Form a Connection. With us.¡± Xorin straightened his back, pulling from his pocket another cigarette. Inhaling with the automatic lighting of the black cherry, he looked to the swordsmen¡ªand promptly shook his head. ¡°It doesn''t work like that. It''s not a decision I make. I have to be emotionally attached to the person, and even then, it doesn''t always work.¡± ¡°What is the trigger for the ability, then?¡± Viktoriya questioned, and Xorin shrugged. It was clear to her he knew the precise mechanics of his ability, lest he wouldn''t have been able to explain their original plan to have been incapable of working. And so, he explained. ¡°It''s an emotional response. Intense emotion, combined with attachment, plus an immediate reaction to the stress. All that together leads to a connection forming. It''s a useless ability, really.¡± ¡°You''re wrong about your Essence being useless. It''s just something that''s not easily abusable. At least, not without the right tools.¡± Nero contemplated for a moment, before standing. ¡°What do you mean?¡± Xorin attempted to do the same, but found Nero¡¯s blade to have been drawn¡ªpressed to his throat. He hadn''t seen the man move whatsoever after standing, but there it was, capable of striking clean through and ending his life there. Xorin did not show any signs of outward reaction, but even Viktoriya could tell the man was nervous, though without any animosity or bloodlust¡ªit became impossible to incite fear into his heart. Tsk. ¡°Enough of this. You have three days to pass the trials, Xorin. In that time, find a way to form a connection to us. We¡¯ll keep in touch,¡± Nero spoke, the man taking his leave, blade in tow. Viktoriya gave a quick bow to Xorin, as if still wanting to maintain some level of respect, and followed in pursuit. Xorin pressed his hands to his throat¡ªnot out of fear, but discomfort, the blade having nicked the skin. Xorin inhaled again. ¡°Compass, how long have they been following me?¡± They never really stopped.
In the time since Nero and Viktoriya¡¯s departure, wherein they had seemingly disappeared from the ship itself, Xorin had managed to acquire a number of necessities for something of great import. It was for a tool that he had attempted to make previously, in the solemn silence of his home amongst the Loft, but never was capable of creating such. Albeit, now with Compass¡ªand the vaguely remnant presence of the Beast¡ªit seemed genuinely possible to manifest a proper Spellbook.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it ¡°Compass, are these the all the implements that I need?¡± Of course. It rumbled. I¡¯d appreciate it if you¡¯d stop questioning me. Xorin stood in one of the empty chambers of the metallic vessel, wherein he supposed it was an iron box more akin to a prison than a broom closet. Though, while it was suffice to say the janitorial supplies scattered about lead him to believe otherwise, much of the atmosphere of Grand City had leaked into the environs of the vessel, bringing forth an ever present tinge of dread in the back of his mind. Thankfully, he was a Caster, and such meant he was capable of handling such unnatural hazards. He placed an unmarked leather-bound journal directly across from himself, in the center of a ring of metals and minerals and herbs. Iron and salt were the most visible, but much of the greenery poked through the white and silver granules, making it appear far more vibrant than the actual truth of the matter. He was performing a form of Magick uncommon to most¡ªa form of ritual¡ªand as such it required the presence of a suitable mirror; which, of course, he had borrowed from the Captain¡¯s Quarters. Xorin set the mirror across from himself, further past the journal, and pulled from his side his dagger¡ªwhich was a blade enshrouded in purple metals and crafted from volcanic glass, reinforced with a form of elementary Magick. He began to carve into his own flesh, cutting into the meat of his wrist wherein much more scar tissue remained. Blood trickled from the inscribed rune, glowing with a pale white substance, and fell upon the covering of leather. It soaked into it, a great plume of smoke beginning to form. It had partially succeeded¡ªhe¡¯d made it this far before¡ªbut never managed to successfully finish the ritual. Hence, Xorin gathered his hands in a visible form of prayer, and called forth. ¡°Lo, Faustus! Harken to my call, O¡¯ Lorde of Mephistopheles! I have offered to you much in my time, but in this moment, I have given you my blood and sweat! Show me the fruits of my labours, Grand Caster of Magick, and relinquish your hold upon my Essence!¡± The smoke began to become overwhelming, burning the nostrils and eyes of Xorin himself, and it became obvious it was impossible to stay in the room any further. Yet, the ritual was not complete, and the mirror not yet cracked. He cursed the God, though knew it were his own insufficiency that led to his inability to create the Spellbook. And, in a fit of desperation, Xorin cried aloud¡ªbefore grabbing hold of the burning book, and turning the pages. It was as if he were possessed, the vaguest presence of the Beast appearing to him in a pale visage and speaking to him in a tongue foreign to his ears. Xorin wrote and wrote and wrote, allowing the smoke to choke him painfully, the pages of the book scarring his hands until they became charred. The blood he used would seemingly not dry, and it became impossible to prevent the liquid from smearing, but the information remained captured nonetheless. Xorin breathed intensively as the smoke began to clear. ¡°A Spellbook, he hath not created,¡± The Beast spoke, and placed his hands of Xorin¡¯s shoulder, whose eyes had begun to bleed from the vessels bursting from heat. ¡°And so, what have I now wrought?¡± You¡¯re a horrible person. Compass stated. He had no need for a Grimoire. Xorin found himself to have been restored to his previous state, his markings and wounds having disappeared with the dispersal of the smoke. As if ironically, he pulled from his pocket another cigarette, and began to smoke. ¡°God will curse me for this¡­¡± He rubbed the back of his neck. ¡°What time is it, Compass?¡± It is much past noon. It explained. The ritual took many hours of preparation. Xorin gazed toward his newfound Grimoire. The book remained slicked with his own blood, though it too now began to soak into the pages. It was as if the book were absorbing the lifeforce he had offered to it, a ravenous entity coming to fruition from the death of his own cells. And, then, Xorin smiled. ¡°Greetings. I take it you¡¯re in need of energy, now?¡± Xorin picked up the book, and placed his hand on the cover. It possessed little energetic-substance, having only taken in a modicum of lifesblood, and hence the man began to feed the Grimoire with his own. It was called Aura, this energy only capable of being viewed by that of a proper Caster. Even Xorin could only intuit its existence in most fashions, but¡ªupon offering more to the entity within the blasphemous tome¡ªhis energy became visible for a brief moment: a kaleidoscopic array, a symphony of iridescent colors, slickened with a blackened mass of energy. In that span of time, Xorin became aware of the difference between himself and others, his mind exploring the nature of his own Essence. Unlike anyone else, he could form a personal connection to even that of objects, and as such, none could understand Compass¡ªand, in the very same way, none would understand the Grimoire. He contemplated what exactly Beast was, as it seemed capable of forming something vaguely physical, but he had no time to dwell. The Grimoire had begun to breathe. ¡°Thank you for the meal, my master. I am Metatron.¡± Xorin smirked. Perhaps, a Grimoire was the best option. Hmm. What are you smiling for, Xorin? Compass questioned. You just committed blasphemy. Against the God of Magick, no less. ¡°Let the man enjoy himself,¡± Beast recoursed, ¡°He hasn¡¯t much in the way of allies. This way, he¡¯ll have something to protect ourselves with. The Trials are harsh, after all.¡± ¡°You need protecting, Beast?¡± Xorin questioned. ¡°Of course. If you¡¯re injured severely enough, even I would disappear. Such is the nature of our existence.¡± ¡°Master, may I make a suggestion?¡± The Grimoire¡ªMetatron¡ªasked. It remained silent, awaiting permission to speak, to which Xorin eventually nodded his head to signify such was acceptable. It continued. ¡°Perhaps, you should collect a map of sorts. Compass and I can work together through it. It can be your first proper spell!¡± It sounded as if Metatron were smiling, her voice infectious¡ªXorin took note of the humanization of the object in his mind, and he quickly gathered himself to his feet. ¡°I¡­ suppose I can find a map,¡± He stated, grabbing both Metatron and Compass. ¡°The ship has stopped, as well,¡± Beast explained, ¡°You should exit quietly. Don¡¯t let anyone see the damned book, either.¡± ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have thought of something like that,¡± Xorin acknowledged this fact, before smirking. ¡°It¡¯s appreciated, Beast. I¡¯ll be searching for a map once I reach the city proper.¡± Xorin then left the enclosure, and would soon remove himself from the ship.
Grand City was demonstrably larger than any other, that much was certain. Even standing at the edge of the metropolis, on a singular island at the edge of a shipyard, the buildings appeared impossibly large. They stretched to the very clouds above, into that of the perdition haze, and likely eclipsed that even so. The aureate materials that composed the buildings themselves was secondly impressive to that of their sheer size, and it made it such that the brutalist nature of the buildings did not hold any harshness, but instead elicited the signs of grandeur. ¡°Compass, where can I find a map?¡± The white-stone bearings turned, the arrowhead twisting to the proper direction. ¡°Thank you very much,¡± Xorin continued into the city, passing beneath an archway defined by materials much too rich for himself. He assumed immediately the currency he held on himself would either be useless or much too low in value to purchase a map directly, and though he was not unwilling to steal, it never felt pleasant to do so. It was almost embarrassing that he had been forced to engage in such so many times¡ªthough, he held no conscious shame, and would continue to do so if necessary. It would be less than an hour before Xorin would reach the Grand Library. It was in a hall of books that Xorin designed the Compass, and so it was always nostalgic for him to be brought to another. He had found himself in a section of the Grand Library that was without any patrons, of which there were exceedingly few already, and had scoured the lengths and breadths of its shelves for the signs of a map. However, he had only discovered numerous items that could only potentially be useful, rather than being pertinent to his situation¡ªmost peculiar of them was an ephemeris that tracked the position of the mainline celestial bodies. ¡°Compass, could you attune yourself to the position of Eldritch Moon, if I provided the proper formulae and coordinates?¡± That is indeed possible. It noted. You would need a fourth bearing, however, to track it through space. ¡°I¡¯ve prepared replacements in the past.¡± Xorin pulled a white-stone bearing from his pouch, sliding it orthogonally to the others in the surrounding groove. The arrow at the center spun counter-clockwise, whilst the ball-bearings rotated the opposite direction; After a moment, the Compass glowed a pale blue in color, before settling onto the expected position. I¡¯m attuned to it. What was it needed for? ¡°Ah, well,¡± Xorin laughed, ¡°I needed a way to keep track of time, and I¡¯m too poor to afford a time-telling device.¡± Compass shook violently, becoming excessively heated. ¡°Apologies. I have other reasons, but that¡¯s the simplest.¡± He explained, searching the shelves continuously. Compass had guided him in this direction, but the broadness of its searching radius made it so that finding specific items would become extraordinarily grueling, and therefore it was far easier to simply scout for it himself. ¡°I suppose I should be more honest next time.¡± An unnoticed book became so, and Xorin removed it from the shelf. It was the most recent edition of the World Atlas, it appeared, being a collection of maps ranging from various periods, locales, and statehoods. It possessed nearly a thousand pages, and the types of maps were equally varied: political and geographical were the most common, but it also included more specialities, such as that of mythical beasts and the locations of dungeons. Stranger, the last several pages were left blank, and a feather pen was left between them. ¡°This doesn¡¯t belong in the library,¡± Xorin noted, and opted to look for any signs of ownership. Finding none, he placed the item into his bag, and continued searching the shelves for anything else of note. ¡°You know, Compass, I¡¯m beginning to feel like my luck is incredible.¡± To me, it seems like you¡¯re merely taking from others. At this rate, that luck of yours will turn sour. ¡°...I need the map, and I can tell that whoever left it didn¡¯t want it anymore.¡± How can you tell as much? ¡°It told me itself.¡±
It wasn''t quite evening in Grand CIty, and as such, it left Xorin wanting for more. He had been told there was much to look forward to, which was a peculiar choice of words¡ªnot something, but much. It left him curious, having already found a friend in that of the Grimoire Metatron, of whom he believed to be resting. The atmosphere of Grand City was toxic to Magick, even if not directly noticeably such, and he believed the only reason Compass could withstand it was due to the longevity of the device. Metatron, however, was newly born¡ªand, as such, needed to rest in such desolation. As did Xorin, having traveled across the ocean for many weeks, and having foregone several days without a proper meal. ¡°Compass, I appreciate you.¡± Xorin spoke aloud, holding the device once more in his hands. Compass warmed peacefully to the touch, enough to bring the blood flow back to his hands, and informed him of the location it was guiding him towards. A tavern should be within your sights. It explained. I chose something you¡¯d have enough money for, but that may mean it''s quite¡­ seedy. ¡°I¡¯m not much for judgment. I simply need a meal and a room. By tomorrow, I¡¯ll be taking the preliminary trials, and by the day after, I¡¯ll have become an accomplished Guildsmen. Hopefully, that¡¯s enough for Nero and Viktoriya.¡± Xorin faced forward, looking towards the supposedly seedy tavern he had come across. Instead of a dilapidated and ruinous establishment, it was pleasantly surprising; a modified cafe, of which a small hostel had attached itself to. It appeared to be meticulously maintained, the golden adornments maintaining some degree of shine, in spite of the regularly tarnished Grand City, and the ornate woods appeared glossy. The building was more reminiscent of a cottage than anything else, to the degree that Xorin believed it similar to the various homes he had seen nearest the Loft. Such left him moderately uncomfortable, especially once he recognized the script of the language used to write the signage. ¡°An outsider works here. Why did you bring me to this place?¡± It was the only real option. Xorin begrudgingly entered the cafe, an aroma of sweets and various confectionaries reaching his nose first, brimming with such potent flavors that Xorin believed he could taste them. It was a strange sight, then, to notice the various patrons of the cafe to be Casters; especially odd, once he realized many of them were battle-hardened, carrying weapons and bearing armours from lands distant from Null. An attendant immediately made their way to Xorin, giving a slight bow. ¡°Hello, traveler. Where do you hail from? Is there any particular drink or sweet your people prefer?¡± ¡°Mmm, that¡¯s alright. I¡¯ll have a local coffee, and any foods that will settle well after a lengthy fast.¡± ¡°Then, I don¡¯t recommend coffee. Would tea be alright?¡± ¡°Tea is fine.¡± Xorin approached an empty table, taking the seat nearest the entrance, and pulled from his bag an enveloped letter. He sighed, and opened it once more, having done so repetitively throughout his journey. It were a draft letter, one appointed by the Hero Coalition of the Guild Association¡ªHe had been especially picked out from the recruits of this generation, and while he appreciated the opportunity to forge his own path as a proper adventurer, becoming a Guildsmen is much more work than any other pathway to doing so. ¡°I really just wanted to travel the world. Make friends. You know that, Compass?¡± I know that better than most. I¡¯m sorry I cannot do more for you. ¡°Don¡¯t¡ªDon¡¯t say that. It¡¯s not like that. I just¡­¡± You¡¯re lonely, aren¡¯t you? ¡°I suppose I am.¡± Xorin surveyed his surroundings, realizing that none would bother him. Hence, he pulled from his bag Metatron, and placed them upon the table. Mumbling to himself as he inspected the written spell, he read the scrawlings upon many of the opening pages of Metatron, taking into what he had only envisioned hazily in the moment. It was a particularly useful ability, it seemed, and Metatron had dubbed it Wayfarer. While it was indeed a ritual, it required energy rather than lifesblood, which was good for Xorin¡ªhe was tired of having to cut himself for Magick. ¡°Wayfarer seems to be capable of locating persons and objects, so long as I¡¯ve met them previously or have held the object. However, for places, it seems the desire to reach them is enough. How quickly can we perform this spell, Meta?¡± Xorin realized he had given the Grimoire a nickname, which felt awfully strange to have done, especially after only just meeting them hours prior and holding only a single conversation. Still, Metatron answered firmly. ¡°If you have the World Atlas, it¡¯d only take a few minutes of preparation. It¡¯s an incantation ritual, it doesn¡¯t evoke anything other than your own power. And, of course, mine and Compass¡¯s. You simply need to say the magic words, really!¡± ¡°I see. That¡¯s wonderful.¡± The heavy thudding of boots approached, and Xorin looked up from his reading. She was a woman dressed in military garb, though such was distinct from Nero and Viktoriya¡¯s stark whiteness¡ªInstead, hers was of a dulled gray, outlined in a darker shade that neared blackness, and trimmed in that of gold. It was also heavily modified, her legs left to be exposed to the elements, of which were heavy and thick and with great musculature, though a length of the fabric was still left to drape downwards and cover her undergarments. Equally, the covering upon her head marked her as an important official, a military cap with three golden stars, especially once Xorin had recognized her as hailing from Lost Paradise¡ªsuch was clear by the inverted cross upon her neck. Still, the most shocking thing about her was her hair: a wildly impressive mane, a mixture of shades of pink and highlighted with black, of which curled randomly and extended down to her back. Xorin hadn¡¯t even realized he¡¯d been staring until she was directly in front of him, looking him squarely in the eyes. ¡°Greetings,¡± Xorin began, ¡°I suppose you were looking for¡ª¡± ¡°Cut the shit. You¡¯re late.¡± ¡°Pardon?¡± A hand gripped the back of his skull. Xorin did not comprehend he¡¯d been grabbed by the woman until he was lifted out of his seat; struggling to move, aiming to release himself by prying the woman¡¯s hands, he was being thrust downwards at breakneck speeds. His chest hit the table first, cracking it in half, before his face followed suit and barreled through¡ªcratering the linoleum floor. Splinters of wood had pierced his flesh, a mixture of a sharp and dull pain accosting his upper body; The woman had injured him terribly in a single movement, and Xorin still hadn¡¯t yet understood she planned to attack him. After all, she held no bloodlust in her at all. It was the cusp of evening, and much was to look forward to. Chapter 002

Chapter Two

For any normal human, being thrust through the surface of even a simple, wooden table would invite such an amount of pain that a response would be beleaguered and without tact; Yet, in the case of Xorin, he moved towards the source of the injury, bringing himself upwards and to a standing position. He dusted the fragments of cherry wood away, flakes of paint sticking to his skin and blood pooling to the surface. Disregarding the stabbing pain in his face and throat from such shards, he was only bruised: not a sprain nor fracture of bone was endured. ¡°I take it you''re from the Enlisted Conscripts.¡± Xorin retrieved Metatron from the cratered ground with immediacy, before continuing his speech. ¡°What is it that you desire from me? I was not informed of your presence. I was not given any special request for my arrival either. Only that I needed to be in Grand City by the New Year.¡± ¡°You misunderstand, Xorin.¡± The woman approached, placing herself in front of the man. Her head hardly reached his chest, but the glaring of her eyes caused Xorin to reflexively dart his own away, finding her presence to be too intense for himself. ¡°Your father informed us you left six months ago. You should''ve arrived many weeks prior to today. Where have you been? Off galavanting as some hero, I assume?¡± ¡°Miss¡­¡± Xorin took a step backward, giving a wave to a dismayed attendant, of whom was frantic and concerned for the damages of their property. He pulled from his pocket another cigarette. ¡°I simply trained in preparation for the Guildsmen Trials, I also don''t believe there''s anything in law that dictates whether or not I can help people along the way.¡± Tsk. ¡°You''re an arrogant bastard, you know that?¡± The woman placed her fist against Xorin¡¯s stomach, pressing down against it with a modicum of force. ¡°Either that, or you''re suicidal. Which is it? Because, from what I can tell, you''re too casual for someone who just crossed the Zero Sea, entered Grand City and was slammed through a damn table.¡± Xorin blinked twice, a fair bit dumbfounded. ¡°Do you want me to be terrified? Because I am. Really, I am. I just don''t have it in me to make a scene about it.¡± He explained, smoking from the same smoggy stick of cancer. ¡°I don''t even want to be a Guildsmen. But, I¡¯m here now. Can I get your name, Miss?¡± ¡°Alyza Rosalind. From the Egoist Branch of the Lochlin Family. Refer to me as Commander Rosalind, or I''ll break your neck.¡± She crossed her arms, continuing to glare in the direction of Xorin. It was unclear to him what he had done to earn her ire, though he understood that much needed to be explained to himself. ¡°My father¡ªYou¡¯ve spoken to him, Commander?¡± ¡°Yeah, I have. The man is rotten, from what I can tell.¡± She took a few steps away from Xorin, waving the smoke of the cigarette away from her face. ¡°The Trials were planned for your arrival. We began them six weeks ago. Hence, you''re late.¡± ¡°That seems like poor planning on the part of the Guild Association. But, I understand. Do I need to return home, then?¡± Xorin questioned the woman, his eyes glancing at her form. She was an incredibly powerful Caster, that much he had ascertained, as the energy that exuded from her form was of such potency that it hurt to directly look in her direction. It was as if she were a profane existence, as the longer he neared her, the greater the pain became. He dropped back once more. ¡°No need. There''s a supplementary trial that can be taken. It requires the approval of a member of each branch. It''s¡­ a bit much, but we need you in our organization. Your abilities are way too dangerous to let roam free. That is why Nero and Viktoriya spoke to you, right?¡± ¡°Hm. I believe that''s a way to put it¡­ What¡¯s this supplementary trial supposed to be?¡± ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter if you can¡¯t get approval. You¡¯ll have to perform a number of preliminary exams, as well as being determined fit for practice by a Magick Enforcer. It¡¯s pretty simple.¡± Alyza explained the circumstances with exceedingly little care for the weight of her words. The appearance of a Magick Enforcer was something that not many can state has been pleasant, Xorin himself having only seen one such as a child. He shuddered at the thought, to which Alyza smirked. ¡°It seems you are capable of fear.¡± ¡°Uhm¡­¡± The attendant mumbled with a downcast expression, a tray of tea and foodstuffs displayed in front her hands. She was shaken greatly and afraid of the violence that had occurred briefly, even if such had been squashed in the very same moment it occurred. It was strange to Xorin, finding that¡ªeven in this city of unabashed grandiosity¡ªthere were still people who could not handle the nature of this world. ¡°Your meal is ready¡­¡± Xorin smiled. She was quite brave, it seemed. ¡°Appreciated, Miss Tenor,¡± He took note of her nametag, eliciting a small smile from the woman. ¡°May I enjoy my meal, Commander? It¡¯s been many weeks since my last proper meal and even longer since I¡¯ve enjoyed a cup of tea. You¡¯re welcome to join me; I¡¯m paying.¡± Tch. ¡°Go on ahead,¡± Alyza waved him off, ¡°You have five minutes, then we¡¯ll be leaving.¡± Xorin laughed. It was precisely as he expected her to react. Alyza was painfully obvious with the expressiveness of her personality. He could tell she was an extraordinarily kind woman beyond her experience as a Commander and likely was surprised by his willingness to pay for her own meal. If she were genuinely hostile, the offering would¡¯ve been taken as disrespect, but in this moment¡ªHe found that she had only attacked him on the basis that she had been annoyed, meaning all as such had been momentary. ¡°I¡¯ll put out my cigarette, Commander.¡±
¡°...Where are we going?¡± Xorin mumbled softly, lagging half a dozen steps behind his superior. While he wasn''t speaking quietly enough to rouse suspicion, it was nonetheless the case that Alyza had overheard him. He continued to babble regardless, which confused the woman, as it was clear that he was conversing with someone other than herself. Stranger, in spite of her ability to hear him rather well, the person he spoke to could not be heard¡ªnor seen, for that matter. She turned to face him, stopping in the center of a jewel-laden street. He was looking down, staring at what appeared to be a shoddy and ancient device; It was a compass, withered and aged into a state of complete disrepair. She assumed it may have had the capacity for communication¡­ until it became obvious Xorin was deeply entranced by the object, not a sound emanating from it. ¡°Who are you speaking to?¡± ¡°It''s unclear, to some degree,¡± He answered, his eyes still affixed to the object, ¡°But I believe it to be the Compass itself. As odd as that sounds, my ability makes that possible.¡± ¡°...That''s not possible, I''m afraid,¡± She narrowed her eyes towards his immediate confusion, ¡°It¡¯s an object, not a person. It doesn¡¯t have a Core. It doesn¡¯t have the ability to think, let alone speak.¡± ¡°Of course, of course. I expected such a response. I actually have many theories¡ªa plentiful amount, in fact. If I may explain,¡± Xorin breathed heavily inwards, before beginning a detailed explanation, ¡°In essence, I believe the object to be a self-sufficient, perpetuating energetic beast. It isn¡¯t a person, but it doesn¡¯t need to be. It¡¯s an extension of my will, given its own shape and form through the accumulation of environmental energy. Also¡­¡±If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. Xorin continued his spiel, in spite of the woman¡¯s astonished expression. It wasn¡¯t as though she believed him to any real degree, no¡ªAlyza felt that Xorin was deeply troubled, her opinion on him becoming suddenly sympathetic towards his clear insanity. An energy-beast wasn¡¯t possible for someone of such a low-caliber of Aura; It required many years of developing the capacity for Cycling, the ability of flowing energy in and out of an object, alongside the capacity of separating intentions from the individual¡¯s own mind. Not to mention, self-sufficiency isn¡¯t possible for projected energy, or at the very least, wasn¡¯t in this scenario¡ªNot a single droplet of Aura could be sensed from his Compass and Xorin equally had shown no signs of casting a Spell. She could only smile, hoping that he wouldn¡¯t notice her inner discomfort. ¡°You should smoke now.¡± ¡°Pardon?¡± ¡°There¡¯s not much time before we reach the training grounds. You can¡¯t smoke there.¡± ¡°...Much appreciated.¡± Xorin paused, relinquishing himself to another cigarette. It was a nasty habit he¡¯d picked up, having been offered one by a compatriot his father at a young age. Knowing that he was to go for sometime without it left him uneasy, though much more pertinent information was necessary to cover, rather than dwelling on the loss of a vice. ¡°Can you tell me more about this trial, Commander? The preliminary, I mean. I believe my capabilities to be sufficient, but I¡¯d like to know what precisely I¡¯ll be engaging in.¡± Hmm. ¡°I can explain that much, I¡¯d say.¡± She began continuing her trek. They¡¯d been heading North-East for several hours, little having been made in the realm of progress. Xorin hadn¡¯t even known they were aimed for a training ground prior to her statement, though he supposed such things made sense. There¡¯d be facilities of all kinds, especially those meant for testing combat skill and magical aptitude¡ªnot to mention, there¡¯d be medical supplies in the event of injuries. ¡°Do you enjoy wargames, Xorin?¡± ¡°...Pardon?¡± ¡°Wargames, Xorin. Do you enjoy them?¡± ¡°I can¡¯t say I¡¯ve ever played one. I¡¯m not much for games, beyond simple puzzles.¡± ¡°Puzzles are good,¡± She laughed, ¡°You seem like the type of person who would struggle with strategic thinking, I believe. Not that you¡¯re unintelligent, merely¡­¡± ¡°I seem the type to become overwhelmed?¡± ¡°Nothing of the sorts,¡± She raised a brow, ¡°I was simply going to say you seem too confident in your abilities and intelligence. What makes you feel I¡¯d believe you¡¯re easily overburdened?¡± Xorin paused again, before giving a small chuckle. ¡°I wasn¡¯t lying when I said I was afraid earlier. I¡¯m honestly terrified all the time. I can barely tell when I¡¯m awake anymore.¡± ¡°I heard of your time in Neverest. You failed to sleep for six weeks, correct? Is that when your unease started?¡± ¡°You know,¡± Xorin contemplated, before giving a melancholic smile, ¡°I don¡¯t think it was.¡± ¡°Well¡­¡± Alyza decided not to ruminate on such matters, continuing the previous conversation to avoid any awkwardness. Her expression, however, briefly faltered, sympathetic towards his plight. ¡°The preliminary trial is a simple wargame. It¡¯s a form of chess that¡¯s been given the ability to connect to the soul. Makes the person act on instinct. The longer you play, the more damage you take spiritually. Of course, the soul being eternal makes that completely safe, so you needn¡¯t worry.¡± ¡°I¡¯m guessing it¡¯s incredibly painful, is what you¡¯re getting at.¡± ¡°It¡¯s a terrible experience.¡± Xorin inhaled on the cigarette, having realized he¡¯d been holding it for several minutes. He turned towards Alyza, who took several steps back in avoidance of the smoke. He sighed, before continuing to haphazardly puff on the filtered end. ¡°If I fail the supplementary trial, or even the preliminary, what happens?¡± ¡°You die.¡± She didn¡¯t look towards him when she spoke.
It was unclear how much time had passed, but Xorin was certain he had not yet reached the training grounds. He had found himself in an enclosed room, confused and dazed, unsure of whether or not he had entered willingly or been transported by force; The atmosphere was of pitch-black darkness, a series of cold drafts making their way through the cracks and crevices of the walls, of which there seemed to be no discernible exit. At the very least, there was no visible doorway, nor any particular lighting in the room. ¡°Compass, where am I?¡± A brief, sharp noise emanated from the object, before it shined in the negative environment. It brightened quickly, blinding Xorin, and he believed Compass to be in certain peril; thinking quickly, he relinquished the energy that he had used to make the object, temporarily absorbing it back into his being. Such would keep it safe and protected, returning it to a state of homeostasis. A laugh made its way through the darkness. It came from Beast, but the presence that Xorin had felt since awakening in the room did not appear to be him. In a fit of panic, Xorin attempted to use his Grimoire, before remembering that even having such on one¡¯s person was a crime in Grand City. ¡°...Where am I, Beast?¡± ¡°Hell if I know. Time isn¡¯t flowing properly. I¡¯m not even sure if space is functioning, either. It¡¯s not dark in this room. Light doesn¡¯t exist.¡± A chuckled raspiness echoed to Xorin¡¯s left, to which he reacted by stepping back with imperativeness. It only served to encourage the figure, who appeared to be even darker than the room¡ªIt was as if they were an absurdist, blackened mass of negativity, their very being malignant to the world. ¡°Well, Xorin¡­ How is Grand City treating you¡­? I believe much of my servants have been rather¡­ obnoxious, no?¡± The voice was neutral, though to some extent Xorin believed them to be displaying signs of exhaustion, moments of pauses coming between their words. No emotion beyond such could be discerned, yet there was a feeling of kinship between himself and the entity. To Xorin, it felt as if they had known each other for ages, quite as if it were for all of forever. Uh¡­, He couldn¡¯t find words to speak and so Beast did for him. ¡°You¡¯re the Nameless King, aren¡¯t you? It¡¯s unclear how we arrived at this location, but even I can tell as much. The stories Zephyros spoke of were rather explicit about your¡­ intensity.¡± ¡°A rather apt deduction for a meager¡­ spirit, such as yourself,¡± The Nameless King responded, the sound of metal scraping against stone, ¡°Tell me, Xorin. What is it you desire?¡± Xorin remained static for only a moment longer, before recognizing the conversation that was taking place. He turned to Beast, who had been heard for the first time in all of his life, and smiled widely with genuine glee. Then, he thought for a moment and answered the Nameless King with honesty. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± The Nameless King laughed and laughed. It was the most entertaining thing he had ever heard. ¡°Everyone wants something. Don¡¯t you know that, Xorin? There isn¡¯t a human alive who couldn¡¯t tell you precisely what it is that they want, at any given moment. It¡¯s a reaction to the circumstances of their life. Some reactions are more urgent and immediate: Hurt a man, and they ask for the pain to stop; love a woman, and they ask for your hand. Other reactions are more long-lived: Draw a picture as a child, grow into an accomplished artist. To say that you don¡¯t know what you want, is to deny your own life itself.¡± The Nameless King paused for a moment, before continuing. ¡°You know, I overheard your conversation. With your Compass. You desire friendship, don¡¯t you? Why didn¡¯t you answer with that? Do you not consider that desire worthwhile? Do you believe your own life to be so valueless, that you can¡¯t even accept that you¡¯re lonely?¡± ¡°...Why are you asking me all these questions? I don¡¯t know you. I understand that you¡¯re the Guildmaster of the Association, but even you understand that it¡¯s a bit much to whisk me from the streets and question my entire purpose for existence,¡± Xorin breathed in for a moment, before pausing. He realized the purpose suddenly and with great intensity, his heart sinking into his chest. ¡°You¡¯re the one I¡¯m playing the wargame against, aren¡¯t you?¡± The Nameless King laughed again, harder than before. ¡°Of course, Xorin. Please, sit. The arbiter will arrive shortly.¡± A light shone through the darkness, a pale orb of whiteness placed between the Nameless King, Xorin and Beast. It hummed with a great vibration, yet there were no discernible signs of a Caster having entered the room nor having cast a Spell. ¡°We may begin as soon as you are ready, Son of the Coffin-Bearer. Are there any last requests you would like to make?¡± ¡°Yeah.¡± Xorin pulled from his pocket his final cigarette. ¡°Don¡¯t kill me for this.¡± The Nameless King laughed to the point of lunacy. Chapter 003

Chapter Three

¡°As you are one being challenged, Xorin¡ªYou have the right to propose any modifications to the ruleset of the game. However, if none are requested, we will begin the preliminary trial following a singular warmup match.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not even sure what kind of game we are playing. Care to elaborate, O¡¯ Nameless One?¡± ¡°Contrary to the belief of Mrs. Rosalind, I can very much tell that you¡¯re incredibly nervous, Xorin,¡± The Nameless King began with a spiteful comment, attempting to dissuade his opponent from proper acumen in the face of demonstrably much more experience, ¡°However, allow me to ease your concerns by stating that the game is incredibly simple. It also isn¡¯t one that requires active, conscious participation. In fact, your soul has already begun responding to the game board.¡± ¡°Gameboard? I don''t see one,¡± Xorin inquired, his eyes scanning the room for such an object. Finding only the sphere of light and the blackened mass that were the Nameless King, he remained confused until the Beast elucidated him¡ªpointing towards the sphere, informing him to pay further attention and maintain eye-contact upon the energetic-substance. Xorin grit his teeth, before releasing a mouthful of smoke. ¡°My soul¡­ It¡¯s becoming attuned to this energy without any of my will being required. Let me guess¡ªIt sets the rules and creates the battlefield in response to our essences?¡± ¡°Precisely, Xorin. Would you like to begin the warmup match, in that case?¡± ¡°Under one condition, if I¡¯m still allowed.¡± ¡°...And, what that might be?¡± ¡°Beast and I count as a singular person. Unless both of us are incapacitated, the match continues.¡± Heh. ¡°Another rule, I suppose, is for the Nameless King to lose his advantage. We don''t know anything about this game, so I¡¯ll make it simple¡ªAnytime you perform an action, you have to explain your reasoning. Sounds fair, right?¡± The Beast smirked towards his opponent, whose eyes were nearly visible in the intense lumens of the sphere. He wrapped his fingers around it as such, the vague purple hues of his flesh appearing almost transparent. A chuckle resounded throughout the darkness. ¡°Let us begin, Xorin and Beast. I''ll make the first move.¡± The environment intensified in an array of all possible colors. It was impossible for Xorin to even comprehend what had occurred, the span of time being so mind-bogglingly miniscule that he was unsure of if anything had happened at all. Yet, when he finally blinked, he found himself at the edge of an undeniably familiar precipice¡ªoverlooking the horizon of a green shore, starred by poppies and adorned with red camalotes. The Beast had appeared beside him, though rather than confusion, displayed a look of concern. ¡°What is it, Beast?¡± ¡°How are we back here?¡± Xorin gazed towards the edge of the precipice, noticing that the ends of the horizon were surrounded by an assortment of clouds; In particular, they were made of the same energetic-substance as the spiritual sphere, that which had likely dragged them into this location once more. Thinking on so deeply, it was Beast that came to a conclusion first. ¡°We¡¯re within our own memories. I¡¯m not sure how such is even possible, but it¡¯s the only idea I have for this scenario.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t remember this place, but it feels familiar.¡± ¡°I do. That¡¯s all that matters.¡± ¡°How do you like my first move?¡± The Nameless King chuckled from behind the two. ¡°Of course, I¡¯m contractually bound to explain the ¡®how¡¯ and ¡®why¡¯ we¡¯ve arrived here. Should I begin after I end my turn, or beforehand? You were a bit unclear about that much.¡± ¡°Go on and spit it out.¡± ¡°I agree with Beast. Please, explain.¡± ¡°Even in the depths of the spiritual realm,¡± The Nameless King revealed themselves to be cloaked in a sheet of jet-black darkness, the malignancy of their form palpable to the environment, ¡°It is a bit much for myself to even exist. It would only take a few moments for someone like myself to fully disentangle the memory; If you couldn¡¯t tell, you¡¯re already beginning to forget the reasoning as to why it exists.¡± He breathed in, the chains that accosted him rustling greatly. ¡°The purpose of the game is to destroy the most important memory to the person. In your case, I¡¯m having to search both of your memories, to find your most cherished synchronicities. It¡¯s much less difficult than it sounds, especially with the ratification of it into a wargame.¡± ¡°How is this anything like a game, Nameless One?¡± Xorin questioned, his eyes narrowing. ¡°That¡¯s because there are rules, and many individual pieces at play. Please, take your reaction.¡± ¡°Reaction?¡± Beast laughed. ¡°I see. So, you act, we react, then it switches. Seems simple enough. I¡¯m unsure of the precise mechanics we can perform, but based on the fact you¡¯re aiming to unravel our memories, there must be a specific number of movements that can be taken to reach that memory. It sounds more akin to a glorified board game than a wargame. However¡­ I¡¯ve already figured out our moves.¡± ¡°Please, elucidate me on your reasoning, Beast. As per the rules of the contract.¡± Beast laughed again. ¡°Don¡¯t need to. Only you have to deliver that information to us. Not the other way around.¡± The Nameless King grinned madly, recognizing he hadn¡¯t outmaneuvered the Beast quite yet. ¡°Beast,¡± Xorin began, holding a cigarette between two fingers, ¡°I¡¯ll head further into my own memories. I don¡¯t understand this game entirely, but I believe I¡¯ll do my best defending that which we both cherish. I think I know which one that is, as well.¡±This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. ¡°That¡¯s what I wanted from you, anyways,¡± Beast explained, taking the cigarette from Xorin¡¯s fingertips and placing it in his own mouth, ¡°Remember, this is a game, and there isn¡¯t a time limit beyond what we can spiritually handle. I won¡¯t let you lose.¡± Xorin sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. ¡°How dreadful¡­¡±
Xorin continued to ruminate deeply. He¡¯d been left to his own devices upon that of the Observer¡¯s Precipice¡ªthat cliffside at the end of the Outsider¡¯s Loft, wherein he had originally decided to embark on the journey that he had so dangerously sought. It was unclear how he had forgotten such with the mere presence of the Nameless King, and he could feel the enrapturing of a battle throughout his psycho-spiritual landscape, something that he was a part of yet distanced completely from. Beast was leading the assault on his opponent, and Xorin¡ªparticularly useless¡ªhad still not understood how to reach further portions of his soul, let alone his innermost memory. ¡°Metatron, what shall I do here?¡± Metatron, the Grimiore, had been speaking to him haphazardly in the absence of the Nameless King. It was attempting to ratify a plan, though spoke to him in meaningless jargon that he shan¡¯t understand for quite sometime¡ªif he ever could do so, in his humble opinion. It felt as if his mind were beginning to fracture from self-doubt, but he knew he couldn¡¯t continue this depressive wave any longer. He sighed, pulling an imaginary cigarette from his carton, and turned the pages. ¡°Wayfarer doesn¡¯t need a map directly, does it?¡± ¡°Of course not, Master. You can draw a map yourself to follow the directions.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t have Compass anymore. At least, not the device.¡± ¡°You have her energy. That¡¯s enough for me.¡± ¡°Ah, they¡¯re a girl?¡± ¡°You knew that much.¡± Xorni remained silent for a moment, holding back the development of tears. Clearing his throat, he pulled from his bag that World Atlas, finding the empty pages of gridded maps¡ªalongside the feathered pen¡ªand began to scrawl upon the pages. ¡°It¡¯s an incantation ritual, right? What are the words?¡± ¡°Incantations aren¡¯t necessarily words. They¡¯re emotions and intentions outwardly expressed. Convey what you¡¯re wanting to the page, and it¡¯ll work.¡± Xorin continued to scrawl, his fingers twitching in rapid succession alongside frequent movements of his wrists, of which were more methodical and consistent with that of a proper artist. He had no emotion to give beyond the honest helplessness in this moment, internally wishing for something to balance out the growing dread that had accosted him since entering Grand City. Metatron didn¡¯t say much else, only listening to Xorin¡¯s half-hearted mumbles to continue the production of the Spell, to which her pages warmed to the touch¡ªas if to offer some degree of comfort. ¡°You¡¯re not really scared, are you, Xorin?¡± ¡°...Of course I am, Meta.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t seem like the type.¡± ¡°What do you mean by that?¡± Hmm. ¡°Just follow the map of your memories. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll understand what I mean.¡± The map was of a strange, fractalized shape, where in a central column spiraled outwards in six degrees; along each degree, were an encircled star, of which Xorin believed were specific memories that would lead to further portions of his mind. However, as there were many possible paths to take from the Observer¡¯s Precipice, it was unclear which was the most beneficial path to take¡ªlet alone the most expedient. He sighed again. ¡°I miss Compass.¡± ¡°She¡¯s still with you. Trust in your instincts; That¡¯s the point of this game.¡± Xorin stood, gripping both Metatron and the map tightly, rushing himself to the nearest entrance of the next memory. It wasn¡¯t as if he knew where he was to go, nor where he would end up in this seemingly endless, fractal labyrinth; He understood that the Beast were fighting for his sake, and he could feel his compatriot¡¯s soul burning in agonizing pain. It had been almost half an hour since they entered the Spiritual Plane, and the only reason it was not Xorin who had experienced such wounds was because of his own cowardice and insufficiency. ¡°Ah, I remember why I came here before. I tried to fly here, didn¡¯t I?¡± ¡°How could you have done that, Master? You don¡¯t have wings.¡± ¡°Well,¡± Xorin smiled softly, his grip increasing against the cover of Metatron, ¡°I was convinced that Magick could do anything, at the time.¡± ¡°It can, if you let it.¡± ¡°Not like that, Meta.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure you could fly if you really tried.¡± ¡°...Me too.¡± He continued his trek away from the cliffside, aiming to reach the nearest memory. Xorin had reached the midpoint of Outsider Loft by the end of the hour. It wasn¡¯t as if he were headed anywhere in particular, in spite of needlessly following the route as inscribed upon his mappings; He merely was going through the motions, wandering the fields and plains of the environment in which he had forgotten. It was here that he was born, raised and eventually forced to leave¡ªIt seemed the memory he was visiting was of his own exile. ¡°What a dreadful sight.¡± He stated, holding a cigarette against his lips. It wouldn¡¯t light in the midst of the Spiritual Plane, a part of him knowingly rejecting the vice and attempting to maintain normalcy within the damned memory. ¡°I hadn¡¯t seen it from this perspective.¡± ¡°What are you looking at, Master?¡± ¡°My home.¡± It was only a crater; a shadowed pit of which naught remained, save for the slickings of bloodied viscera among the edges and the burnt crisping of corpses abandoned, which the smoking of a red plume continued to exhaust into the skies. The energetic-substance that had gathered in such an amount was still physically palpable, even in the memory, and it was clear Xorin still had no recollection of how such could have occurred. Only the sobbing tears of a child, who lay in the center of the crater, could be heard beyond the droning of sirens. ¡°I don¡¯t remember this, Beast.¡± ¡°Of course, you don¡¯t.¡± Xorin turned in the direction of the voice, which was familiar and did not belong to Beast. It belonged to Nero Voclain, of whom Xorin had least expected¡ªbut expected, nonetheless. ¡°How is it that you¡¯ve reached this place, Nero? And, where is Viktoriya?¡± Nero placed his hand on Xorin¡¯s shoulder, looking toward the impacted crater¡ªand smiled softly in the direction of Xorin. ¡°You¡¯ve been through a lot on your travels, haven¡¯t you?¡± ¡°Quiet. You don¡¯t know even half of it.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve noticed you have a Grimoire now. That¡¯s good. It gives you another ally.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t need much in the way of allies. I have what I need.¡± Xorin remained steadfast, maintaining eye-contact on the man before him. He understood implicitly why Nero had come to him at this moment. The bastard still desired the forming of a connection, something that should be a long, arduous process of emotionality and trust; It would be a mockery of the ethics of his own ability to bruteforce such a connection, especially to someone who was like him in the first place. ¡°..You¡¯re a terrible person, you know that?¡± Heh. ¡°It¡¯s working, isn¡¯t it?¡± Nero began to move into the crater, wherein he would assuredly attempt to alter one of the few cherished memories that Xorin possessed of Beast¡ªXorin retaliated with immediacy, pulling from his side the dagger that he had abused so terribly, and attempted to plunge it into the chest of his assailant. It would miss, by a wide margin, knocked to the side by the hilt of Nero¡¯s sword. ¡°Now, now, Xorin. I¡¯m not part of the game that you¡¯re playing. If you waste time on me, the more likely it is that Beast will¡ª¡± ¡°That Beast will what? Die? We both know that¡¯s not happening. You, however, aren¡¯t meant to be here. These are my memories. If you threaten them, in any capacity¡­¡¯ ¡°I will kill you myself.¡± Chapter 004

Chapter Four

Nero sneered at the arrogance. ¡°Kill me?¡± He approached the man with his thumb against the base of his hilt, planning to draw at the moment of any outward sign of aggression. In his confidence, he even allowed Xorin to kick his own dagger back into his hands, to which Nero had expected to occur. Xorin was no fighter; He was more akin to a rabid beast in need of culling. His expression, tainted by malice, made that clear as such. ¡°You don¡¯t want to threaten me, boy. You¡¯re much too frail. You lack power. Not only that, but without Beast to defend you, nor your Compass to empower you, you can¡¯t do anything to stop me. A dagger is hopeless against a blade of my design.¡± ¡°...Are you done?¡± Xorin questioned, not even bothering to get into a proper fighting stance; Instead, he held his dagger in a reverse-grip, his feet plainly squared beneath his hips. It was a foolish, improper stature; Nero knew it came from inexperience and a sheltered lifestyle, with there being an absurd number of openings in the position that he took. Xorin seemed to be taking note of the position of Nero¡¯s eyes, as if calculating the precise maneuver that Nero would take in response to his first line of attack. It was adorable, really, that Xorin believed himself comparable enough in speed to match a Government Officer. Still, the confidence exuded by Xorin made Nero uncertain of one fact. ¡°You don¡¯t care if you get hurt at all, do you?¡± Nero smirked at the dismayed turn of expression plastered upon his target¡¯s face. It was working, that much was clear, that the continuous pushing of his emotions was leading to an intense brewing of rumination. Attachment had clearly already been incited as such. Though teeming with anger and rage, Xorin could not prevent the bitter line of his essence from beginning to take place, and, in a fitful moment of ferocity, Xorin acted on impulse¡ªaiming to deliver a strike, a slice across the neck of Nero. It was an attempt to take his very life¡ªthe ultimate severance of a connection¡ªand Nero dodged it plainly. ¡°You¡¯re a bastard, you know that?¡± Xorin spit with a vehement ire, his eyes carrying the wildest of furies. ¡°I don¡¯t see why you¡¯re so surprised. We informed you that you would have three days to find a way to form a Connection to us. You¡¯ve nearly accomplished half of that already! You¡¯re on good timing.¡± Xorin swung again, but Nero knocked it once more from his hands with the back of his wrist. He didn¡¯t bother using the blade itself, finding it to be an unnecessary tool in the moment, and instead pulled from the hilt with such intensity that it struck Xorin squarely in the stomach. Blood and bile ejected from his esophagus, splattering against the white of Nero¡¯s coat and partially the length of his blade; Nero gagged, finding it to be a sordid sight, and took a step back as Xorin fell to the ground. ¡°That¡¯s all you have to offer to us, Xorin. You¡¯re not particularly skilled, you¡¯re far from being strong. The only thing you¡¯re good for, is what you can do for other people. Even if that¡¯s not much, we can use your ability better than even you can.¡± Nero kneeled down beside his attacker, who was coughing and sputtering bloody phlegm. He felt an intense pang of anxiety, Nero feeling as if he had done something incredibly egregious and were to be reprimanded. It was akin to the feeling of a child nearing the point of being scolded, an instance of infantilization hitting Nero in the pit of his soul the moment he stared into the blackened eyes of Xorin Zephylle. He jumped back out of reflex, his hand pressed to the hilt of his blade¡ªHe had already drawn, he noted, and had not realized when. ¡°Quiet, Nero¡­¡± Xorin stood, wiping the blood and mucus from his face, ¡°I¡¯m tired of everyone acting like they know who I am. I¡¯m tired of being expected to do things that I don¡¯t even comprehend. It¡¯s not even been a day since I¡¯ve arrived in Grand City, and I¡¯m tired. Awfully, awfully tired.¡± ¡°Stand down. The next time you attack, you¡¯ll lose a limb.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t care. You can tell that already, can¡¯t you?¡± Nero held his throat, as if worried he were damaged. Something was wrong. It felt as though every fiber of his being were crying aloud, his body developing a shake from the sheer nervousness and anxiety. His mind flooded with a collection of darkened, corruptive thoughts, impulsive emotions of nearly random yet illimitable negativity piercing the shackles of his heart. He took a step back, looking around the Spiritual Plane for answers¡ªand only finding Xorin. ¡°What did you do to me?¡± ¡°Nothing at all. You did it to yourself. If you live, the emotions will pass, and we¡¯ll probably come to an understanding of some kind. Usually, the Connection is formed from that first, but you skipped a few steps.¡± Nero recognized his mistake with immediacy. He forced a Connection to Xorin, in spite of being warned that it required a significant degree of trust and time, with such meaning that he was now experiencing a portion of the emotional turmoil that Xorin felt on a consistent basis. However, it wasn¡¯t possible for Nero to find regret in that; He had accomplished his portion of the mission, his only thoughts seemingly twisting to that of his sister, Viktoriya. She shouldn¡¯t experience this, he felt, It would be too much for her.The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. ¡°Would it, Nero?¡± Xorin asked, having approached the man in the midst of his thought processes. Nero hadn¡¯t even understood yet that he¡¯d been stabbed through the stomach, the obsidian dagger plunged several inches into the flesh of his belly. His organs burned with a heavy fire, and Nero clutched Xorin¡¯s wrists as he began to lose his ability to stand. ¡°Connections are rather¡­ toxic, really. They spread like a web of cracked glass, originating from the center. The moment you thought of her, a Connection had formed. I¡¯m sure she¡¯ll arrive in time to save you.¡± Nero fell onto his back, confused and dazed. He had been defeated not through combat, but through his own hubris. He wasn''t even being killed for such impudence; His superiors would likely commend him for having accomplished all that he set out to perform¡ªand with ample time remaining. ¡°Why do you feel this way, Xorin?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t remember, nor do I wish to,¡± Xorin admitted, ¡°Beast is stalling the game, allowing me to venture further. I¡¯d have allowed you to come with me, had you not been so callous.¡± ¡°Huh¡­That¡¯s an ironic twist of fate.¡± Nero mumbled beneath his breath, placing his hand upon his wound. He wasn¡¯t damaged lethally so, but it was enough to incapacitate him when combined with the emotional turmoil he had undergone. It was strange to be directly corresponding to Xorin¡¯s emotionality, especially when it had never been clear that he had such depthful pains. He could feel Viktoriya, her arrival becoming especially desirable, now that Nero had nearly been slain¡ªby a terribly weak Caster, nonetheless, who hadn¡¯t even cast a Spell. ¡°I believe I should thank you, Xorin. You¡¯ve given me an opportunity.¡± ¡°Pardon?¡± ¡°The Connection goes both ways, does it not? With this understanding, I¡¯ll be able to report to my superiors much more pertinent information. I¡¯ll likely be seeing you in the future¡ªwhether I am to be an aggressor or not, depends on the circumstances.¡± ¡°...Just stay out of my memories.¡±
In spite of the Beast having taken the brunt of the spiritual damage, Xorin himself found that he was considerably more deprived of his energy than he previously understood. It was clear that his ability to progress was hindered, especially from the emotional instability that stabbing Nero had caused him. It was not his first time harming a person, but it was the first that he had done through rage¡ªsuch left him distraught, especially as the flooding in of Nero¡¯s own emotions continued to weigh on his conscience. ¡°We¡¯ve reached the third memory,¡± Metatron spoke, her voice a relaxing presence in the exhaustion that Xorin faced. The man smiled softly, recognizing that he was halfway to the most cherished memory of himself and Beast, before continuing forward with extreme quickness. It was all he could do at that moment. They were in the midst of Outsider Loft, within a small, dilapidated archive. It was here that Compass were made, Xorin remembered, though how he had done such remained unknown to him¡ªHe could sense the vaguest presence of the darkness of the Beast, captured within the spirit of the memory in which he stood. The same child from the crater, perhaps a tad younger, wandered the halls of the library, unknowingly being stalked by that of Xorin. ¡°Why are you following him?¡± ¡°Because I''m curious where it leads.¡± Xorin was knowledgeable on the surface, though internally had little understanding of his own abilities. Should he see them from an external perspective, he felt it could become much more obvious as to how he performed the Spell in the first place. After all, if Alyza were correct in that Compass was not an energy-beast, it would mean it was something else¡ªwhich was far more concerning to Xorin than even his own safety. The child seemed curious, inspecting a box that had been placed upon one of the shelves, before shaking the contents and spilling them to the ground. A number of archaic, rustic tools fell, many of which the glass implements became shattered, though a particularly oxidized and derelict compass had managed to remain unharmed from all things but age; The child seemed giddy, picking it up with a smile. ¡°Hiya, Compass!¡± Xorin remained quiet. ¡°Hmm. Where should we go today?¡± Instead of the long, arduous process of programming and building the compass that Xorin remembered, the factual contents of the memory seemed to imply that Compass must''ve existed prior to his involvement. Such was deeply troubling, and it made little sense¡ªXorin tapped Metatron, desiring an answer from her. Still, the child walked away, content with having discovered the item nonetheless. ¡°Meta, you seem to have an idea of what occurred here. How did Compass come into existence? And where is Beast? I don''t even see him in this memory.¡± ¡°Master¡­ I can''t explain everything, you know.¡± Xorin sighed deeply. ¡°Can you try your best?¡± ¡°...From what I can tell, Compass was with you already, and you transferred her into the object upon touching a suitable host.¡± ¡°That¡­¡± Xorin shook his head. ¡°That doesn''t make sense at all. But, what of the Beast? Are you implying that he was also part of myself?¡± ¡°That would be correct. He became actualized in the previous memory, following the explosion.¡± Xorin narrowed his eyes towards Metatron. ¡°Where did you come from, then?¡± ¡°From within you as well, Master.¡± Xorin grit his teeth. The answer was expected, but it served only to infuriate him¡ªThere was a strange emotion bubbling in the center of Xorin¡¯s chest, burning with a sharp intensity that increased the further he remained ruminating on the opinion of Metatron. He could feel his patience wearing thin, his soul becoming woefully damaged after having spent almost a full hour wading through memory after memory. It was impossible for him to venture any further without calling into question his own sanity, his remembered experiences becoming invalidated by the simple viewing of his own past. Still, Xorin pressed further onwards, carrying Metatron with what little pride remained in himself. ¡°...Are there others? Like you?¡± ¡°Of course, Master. We¡¯re merely products of your imagination.¡± Xorin bit his tongue, holding back a wave of emotionality that he could not yet process. However, if it were the case that Metatron and Compass were simply that¡ªimaginary¡ªthen he could not understand what precisely Beast was, being capable of taking tangible form and equally interacting with those he chose to communicate with. It boggled his mind, bending it in such a way that he could feel his own thoughts beginning to erode. ¡°Let us continue, Metatron.¡± ¡°...Okay.¡±