In the depths of despair, Rassii, an outcast and enslaved member of an underground organization, suffered relentless abuse. Her life teetered on the edge of oblivion when an unexpected savior emerged-a monstrous shadow that whisked her away from the...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The first chamber of Aeos Athenaeum is seemingly an endless white space, but when Narcael speaks in Grimoire tongue, a brilliant surge of yellow light appears as an invisible door slowly open, parting the rows of glistening white slabs.
This is Narcael's Magnum chamber. Each Chisel wielded their own unique Magnum for the art of Scribbling. It was more than a mere workspace; it was a realm they can traverse and transform according to the whims of their ever-shifting moods.
Rassii's heart skipped a beat at the sight before her. A sprawling canvas of purple lilacs and delicate roses stretched out, a cascade of color that seemed almost otherworldly. Amidst this sea of armies of flowers is a giant white slab.
Overwhelmed by the scenery, she gasped and yelled. "Narcael, did you see this? Roses and Lilacs!"
Narcael turned his gaze towards Rassii; there was a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he watched her. She was elated and giggling at the wonderful sight she didn't expect. Among the blooming flowers, there were butterflies too.
"Look at these roses and lilac!" She yelled. Her long black hair ruffled wildly as she rushed to the blooming field and smelled the flower.
Narcael, who was following her, sat next to the grand slab. "Are you ready?"
Her nod was resolute. "Yes... But why are you blushing?"
A flush crept up Narcael's cheeks, his discomfort palpable. "I'm not..."
"But your face is red. Are you sick?"
"Enough of your nonsense!" His response was swift and laced with embarrassment.
"Fine. No need to be angry."
He glares at her. "Shall we proceed, or must I escort you out?"
"Alright..."
She gracefully lay down on the sofa, close to him. Her purpose seemed simple: to surrender herself to the gentle embrace of slumber while Narcael did the scribbling. It is a process called "Emergence", where Narcael will use his ability called "Clairvoyance".
In his Magnum, he can use it to its full extent. He cannot only foresee the past and future or read her mind, but his will is emerging in her. He will become her in this state.
Meanwhile, Rassii is nestled on a very soft sofa, and her eyes start to get heavy. She gave a yawn and stretched her hands before she lay on her side.
She looked at him and admired how Narcael began to scribble. He was holding a quill with a very long golden flight feather. It was glowing on his right hand. His movement is precise, sending a golden spark as he begins to write against the stone. His penmanship is akin to a fine sword, leaving a mark on a white surface without touching its tip.
As her eyelids grew heavy, she let out another yawn, surrendering to the relentless pull of drowsiness. She closed her eyes. She drifted into slumber, and she began to emerge from her dream.
In the past four days, she has kept dreaming the same thing. This world mirrors heaven. It's like the largest salt flat with a vast horizon where heaven kisses the land, which seemingly wanted to become one.
Emergence had finally begun. Narcael was following Rassii as their subconsciousness became one. What she sees is what he sees. What she feels is what he feels too.
Rassii began to walk, and a peculiar sight halted her in her tracks. Her own reflection shimmered on the surface below. It is somewhat alive. It was smiling at her, even though she was not. And it was holding a bouquet of red roses.
It started smelling the roses with its eyes closed, and then she too could smell the sweet scent of flowers. Yet, as the mirrored reflection's eyes fluttered open, an unsettling change took hold. A flash of intensity emanated from its gaze. It glares at her as it begins crushing the fragile rose in its palm.
Rassii felt a sudden surge of pain, as if thorns had pierced her skin. She looks at her empty hands, and blood swells like a stream and pools near her feet.
It talked and said, "Go vanish!"
Its voice rang like a deafening thunderclap. Its commanding force surged forth, sending Rassii to be thrown into the distance and fall into the pool.
Narcael's dreamy eyes fluttered back to reality, and his hands clutched his chest. He took a huge breath, as if he were losing his life. He looks at his hands. They were bleeding.
"Look at this..." A wry smile played at the corner of his lips. This is the first time he experiences this during Emergence."I haven't merely vanished this time. It appears she found it fitting to offer me a forewarning."
Over the course of four days, he had scribbled nothing but what he had seen—The mirror world she falsely created. His unspeakable frustration can be seen on his face as he remains unable to perceive her past or future, nor can he uncover any details that might reveal her concealed identity. This has never happened before.
He recounted the numerous attempts he had made, each culminating in the same result. If he tried prying forward, he always ended up getting thrown by an unknown great force.
After he had fallen into the pool, an ominous shroud of darkness materialized seemingly out of thin air. Its sinuous tendrils snaked forth to grab him into the depths. It feels like it's taking all his life force.
He sensed the regression of his power within his domain, in his Magnum.
"Why am I losing power?" he pondered, clenching his fists. His eyes darkened. He contemplated giving it another try, determined not to hold back this time. Yet, the thought of being confined to this room for over two hours concerned him, knowing it could potentially harm anyone who wasn't a Chisel or Scribble, especially the new Bearer.
The common person, even a Marker, is now spiralling into depression and will soon be drowning in the depths of madness after staying this long.
But...
She seems to be doing quite well. She even let out a gentle snore. So Narcael decided to do it.
Narcael's eyes began to glaze over as his hand lay on the slab, ready to scribble. But then something unexpected happened: he suddenly coughed up blood. His hands were bleeding, but now so were his eyes.
Narcael fell on the chair, and he slammed to the ground. He writhed in agony, feeling as though he was burning inside. His eyes returned to their usual state, though there was still blood oozing out.
He can't believe this is happening to him. He's never felt so powerless, not even once. But why did he feel like there was nothing he could do against this unranked Bearer who wields just a minor ring?
He smacks his forehead in frustration, wondering when he became so feeble in his own Magnum. A hearty laugh escapes his mouth as he realizes his ego and pride have been wounded.
The once-blooming field under the clear blue sky has now withered, and ominous clouds loom overhead.
"A single ring Bearer wealds a king's fire..." He looked at her as his eyes flared. "Just who are you?"
