Capítulo 7: Chapter 7: Next Month
Zenith's pupils dilated and his eyes met in the air with Isaiah's. Isaiah's face showed surprise, his eyes were shocked. "Wha.. there, breathe in, breathe out. Do it slowly and steadily."
Zenith felt that it was hard to breathe. His chest or the heart in his chest felt tight. His heartbeat was ringing loudly in his ears. He felt as if there was not enough oxygen in the air. His vision was going white, and black spots after black spots appeared in his sight. He clenched tightly onto the chair's handle, his fingertips going white. Despite that, his body leaned forward and his throat convulsed, as if he was about to vomit. He swallowed dryly and concentrated on the sick feeling in his chest. Without being able to put his attention on the strength in his hand, he fell forward onto the ground.
Why was this happening? Was he having a panic attack? Strange… He did not trust Alma to begin with. Then, it should not matter whether the man deceived him or not.
Then, a gentle voice appeared in his ears. A hand was awkwardly patting his back. He slowly focused onto the gentle voice and sensations on his back.
"Are you okay now?"
He took a slow inhale. His eyelashes trembled and fluttered like butterfly wings. It was showing the unease in his heart.
"Yes… I am okay now." His voice took a soft tremble and he added, "Thank you."
Of course, he was not wholly okay. But he did not want to bring attention to himself right now. Isaiah looked at him in concern. He was clearly not convinced by Zenith's speech but let it go. He said, "If… If you were a Beyonder, you would have been losing control just now. It was the fact that you were not a Beyonder that saved you."
"Is that so…?" Zenith's voice was low. The realisation that he missed death by a narrow bargain was daunting. Alma Roffe… Did he know that telling me these things would lead me to my death if I were a Beyonder instead of an ordinary person? He was angry but scared at the same time. Seriously… Is it that easy to die in this world?
He chuckled mirthlessly without any humour. He then asked Isaiah who was crouching in front of him, "By the way, do normal Beyonders know that there is a sequence 0 in this world?"
Isaiah thought for a moment, "Even if Gods do walk on the land, low sequence Beyonders are unlikely to know that information. After all, it is a kind of poisonous knowledge. Wait a minute…" A glimpse of understanding appeared on his face, "Do you suspect that Alma Roffe purposely told you this? Come to think of it, he's really suspicious. As expected of a marauder. All of them are swindlers and can't be trusted!"
"Do you think he is…" Zenith's voice was low and he did not continue, but Isaiah understood him the same. Isaiah denied his accusation. Whether it was out of wanting to comfort him, or he genuinely thought that way, Zenith did not know. However, his heart was tense. The thought of such a dangerous and powerful being staying beside him for an unknown reason was making his heart palpitate.
"Don't think about it too much," Isaiah comforted him, "Ultimately, I don't think that you have anything 'He' wanted, right" Isaiah joked and it managed to ease the tenseness in his heart. His taut muscles loosened and he sighed.
Yes. It could be that I'm simply thinking too much. After all, Alma Roffe said it himself that I have nothing he truly wanted. Perhaps… He did not know about the cause and effect either. We had a deal that in exchange for a favour, he will help me with escaping and he honestly told me the knowledge about Beyonders. If he did not tell me about it, I would be left with a big gap in my knowledge and worldview even after I escaped. But… What if he wanted me to think that way? What if he wanted me to think that he is innocent?
No… Suddenly having thought of something, Zenith's face hardened. I mustn't forget that he is one of the culprits behind the original Zenith's death. Whether he wants me to think that way or not does not matter. And whether he is setting a trap for me or not does not matter either. At the end of the day, we are just using each other. We are not friends nor is he one of my allies. It is just a deal. And when we get tired of each other…
Far away from the gladiator ring, Alma hummed. Glints of excitement flashed in his brown eyes. He appeared to be in a good mood. Not knowing what he was thinking, with a smile, he glanced toward the direction of the gladiator ring.
And when we get tired of each other…
A dark smile showed itself on Zenith's face.
We will naturally dispose of each other.
Isaiah, seeing the strange smile on Zenith's face that appeared out of nowhere, was taken aback. It was a cold, bloodlusting smile. From Zenith's demeanour, he could tell that the young man had not killed anyone before. He had been worried about it. There was no way that they could escape successfully without any bloodshed. …It seems that there is no need to worry about it after all. He hesitatingly thought, He could handle it just fine.
Just because he had not killed anyone in the past did not mean he would be the same in the future. From what he could observe, Zenith was likely to embark onto the Beyonder road in the future. The Beyonder world could be a fascinating world with supernatural powers to a naive young man. However, it was not. It was a bloody world filled with madness. There were no Beyonders without bloody hands. It was easy to enter, but hard to get out. Death was the only was to escape.
Beyonders feared madness more than death. For them, death was not only the end of everything, but also salvation. Of course, just because they thought that way did not mean they threw their lives away at every opportunity.
At the end of the day, just as humans were different from each other, all Beyonders were not the same.
"Do you still want to listen?" Isaiah saw that Zenith had regained his composure, and asked.
"Yes," Zenith nodded his head.
"Where were we…?" Isaiah's voice trailed off, "Right, about high sequence Beyonders. High sequence Beyonders can also influence Beyonders of the same pathway."
So OP? Is this power system so unexpectedly broken? Zenith lifted a sardonic brow. "How overpowered… To think that they can even manipulate low sequence Beyonders."
Isaiah was dumbfounded and Zenith looked questionably at him. Was it not what Isaiah meant? Was he actually misunderstanding something? What Isaiah said later proved that he did, in fact, misunderstand something.
Isaiah's lips twitched. He then said, "You misunderstood. I didn't mean it in that way. By influencing, I meant that the low sequence Beyonders are similar to the Beyonders at the apex of their pathways. For example, there is a King of Angels named 'Medici'. 'He' serves the True Creator and is the pinnacle of the hunter pathway. 'He' likes to provoke others even though he is long past the provoker sequence. Hunters are known as exceptional provokers due to 'Him'." Isaiah saw Zenith in a deep thought. The young man did not seem to understand that example very well, "… Perhaps that wasn't a very good example for you. I am not known to be an eloquent speaker. Let me give you another example: The Eternal Blazing Sun. 'He' is the God of the Sun pathway. And everyone in this pathway likes to praise the sun. This is the influence a high-ranking Beyonders can have on low sequence Beyonders of the same pathway. They can also easily suppress lower sequence Beyonders of the same pathway."
He paused for a moment, "Actually, speaking of manipulating others, you need to be wary of a certain pathway the most."
Isaiah's expression was serious and the air was solemn. Zenith subconsciously asked, "Which pathway?"
Isaiah did not say the name of the pathway immediately. He appeared to be caught between the memories. Only a beat or two later he said, "Audience. Audience pathway. Before my father died, he told me that the audience was the most frightening pathway in the world. Not the darkness of the Night, nor the shepherding ability of the Hanged Man. But the audience's."
Zenith did not speak a word as Isaiah's lone voice echoed in the empty room. "The horror of the audience pathway is unimaginable. If you can, just like the marauders, stay away from them."
Zenith held a contemplative expression on his face as he let the words and implication of what was said just now sinked into his memory. Such a free piece of important mysticism knowledge, who would refuse it!? Zenith thought that Isaiah was quite different from Alma, that scammer brat. They were like water and oil.
"Sure…?" A second later, Zenith's shoulders were grabbed and he was forced to stare into serious golden brown eyes. Just like his eyes, the rest of Isaiah's facial expressions were frigid and tense.
"I thought that I heard questioning in your voice just now," Isaiah seemed to be explaining his action. After all, both of them were too close and were invading each other's personal space right now. 'You are too serious', That was what Zenith wanted to say but he swallowed the words back into his stomach.
"Alright."
This time Zenith gave a firm assurance, Isaiah, believing that, let go of his shoulders, and stepped back. Of course, like a cat to a canary, he was secretly curious about the so-called manipulative audience. He just did not show it on the surface.
"How is your plan faring?" After one serious problem they had to deal with, another came. Isaiah was not as serious as before and lazily sat down on his less than comfortable chair. However, he did not make a fuss and was waiting patiently for Zenith's words.
Zenith thought for a moment, "From the intel, I think that there could be an opportunity next month."
"Next month?" Isaiah leaned back into the chair with his arms crossed over each other and inquired, interest flashing in his normally cold eyes.
"Yes, next month," Zenith went down his memory lane, thinking back to the information that Oleg and the people Oleg knew gathered for him. He glided his tongue over his slightly dry lips, "The believers around here want to build the temple of God of Death. They have talked it over with the higher-ups, the higher-ups have agreed to it, and some of the slaves will be responsible for heavy labour. At that time, everything and everyone will be busy. Due to the gazes of the authorities that will land because of the new temple, it will truly be a chaotic time."
Isaiah caught up on what he planned to do and said, "You want to use that opportunity to escape?"
"Yes." Zenith did not deny it. "Like they say, we are going to fish in the muddy water."
Isaiah stared at him with a strange look in his eyes.
"What?" Zenith subconsciously asked.
"Nothing," Isaiah shook his head, "It is just that, you are more intelligent and seem to have higher education than I thought for a hereditary slave."
Shit! I am too careless these days! Have I gotten too comfortable? First Alma, now Isaiah!? Panic briefly appeared in Zenith's eyes and his smile turned stiff. Just as he was trying to make some kinds of excuses, he heard Isaiah say, "To each their own, I guess. You must have had your own story and secrets. It's not like I don't have them either," Isaiah's eyes turned sad for a moment, "You don't have to explain."
Zenith's mind over-running on searching for excuses stopped. His mouth opened and closed like a gaping goldfish.
"...I think the break is over now."
He went out of room number 2 as if something was chasing him.
The day unknowingly passed by and soon, it was night.
Darkness loomed over the vast, starry sky and the crimson moon was in full bloom, radiating the red glow from outer space. Zenith stopped in his tracks. It was the first full moon he witnessed in this world. …It was eerily like the moon he saw just before he transmigrated. When he was used to seeing the silver moon, the sight of the crimson moon became foreign. No matter how much of the crimson moons, although not full moon, he saw in this world every night, he still could not get used to it. It was alien and felt disgustingly beautiful.
Disgustingly beautiful…? Zenith thought to himself, Hell, when did I become such a poet? More importantly, disgustingly beautiful…? Really? Did I lose a screw or two when I wasn't looking? However… I feel that only such a weird analogy fits this crimson moon.
He headed toward the dark, underground stairway, Damnit, I don't want to face that bastard again after today. He sighed, But we share the same cell. What can I even do?
Zenith sighed once again and descended down the dark abyss of the stairs. He had become accustomed to this darkness after nearly a month. When he reached the end, he walked through the numerous cells and ignored the numb and groaning people. These moaning people suffered from the heavy labour with no rest. Most of them had physical ailments and their bodies were more often than not, –. Due to these reasons, many slaves died from either overworking or heat stroke. And no one –not even the slavery ring– cared for their life and death.
This would probably be their reaction to the death of the slaves: Oh, some slaves died? No problem! We can just kidnap a few more!
For them, the whole world, with the exception of noble and influential people, were potential slaves. Zenith felt sorry for the slaves– That was when he just arrived in this world.
While all the slaves were victims, he needed to clarify that workplace bullying existed. Even when they were all victims, some with a hell lot of inferior complex stepped further on the weaker slaves. Now, was it not sad? It was indeed a sad thing. During the time he was in this world, Zenith had seen a lot of things he did not want to do.
Now, he had truly acknowledged the fact that his old world and this new world were not the same. It was not some sort of time travel– that much was clear with the existence with the Beyonders. However, he had stubbornly clung to the delusion that, perhaps, his old world also has these supernatural powers. But the authorial people and organisations such as governments concealed them.
(It was the last trace of 'home'.)
(Maybe, perhaps, and more synonyms of these, Zenith would honestly go crazy if his old world and this new, cruel world happen to be the one and same. It would mean that his whole life was a lie. The reality he had lived in –believed in– was a lie.)
(God, was he insane after all? He wanted this world to be the same world as his. Yet, he did not want it to be the same at the same time. It was all too confusing.)
(Zenith did not want to think about it.)
(Or rather, he stopped himself from thinking about it and going down the rabbit hole.)
(All he needed to do was to survive and become stronger, wasn't he?)
Zenith blinked. An underground cell appearing to be meant for some sorts of criminals entered his sight. Maybe, it did contain criminals once upon a time. However, none other than lowly slaves –perhaps the same rank as criminals for the so-called nobles- were now occupying it.
He subconsciously glanced toward a corner, and heaved a sigh of relief. It was good, Alma, the crazy scammer brat, was asleep.
Everything was a little hard to take in today. The little show of mental outburst that happened in the afternoon took away most of his energy. He could not find it in himself to think and stay awake for another second.
Without a sound, he curled up in the free corner, and shut his eyes, plunging his vision into an abyss like darkness. His subconscious fainted and his tired body soon followed the move. The last thing he knew was the smell of pungent mold, moss, and an ever-presenting certain smell that existed only in the underground.
And it was the last thing his brain registered.
He neither noticed nor saw a pair of brown eyes that opened immediately after he fell asleep. Nor did he feel the gaze zeroing in on his body. These pairs of eyes certainly did not appear sleepy nor groggy like the owner had just woken up. Rather, they were vibrant, and felt like a pair of laughing eyes.
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