Capítulo 8: Inherit The Nightmare
A pitch black sky, and a flat plane marked with glowing blue lines as far as the eye can see. Motes of light ascended through darkness, eventually fizzling into nothingness.
Thus, I dreamed.
Thus, I sat down on the ground once more.
It was a scene I was getting used to, one that I was lucid enough to somewhat remember when I wake up, one that had replayed enough times for me to navigate this imaginary world of mine.
To those informed of the arcane, they would assume this place to be a Reality Marble, the manifestation of one's inner world, born of a logic so unbelievably twisted that it could warp their surroundings, or crafted through decades of work and willpower to superimpose their own internal reality.
Those who assumed such would be half right.
Admittedly, it was an accident on my part that these dreams would frequent my sleeping self. And while magical accidents were more often than not a catastrophic thing that usually led to casualties, this was more of a pleasant surprise that I stumbled upon after getting the hang of magically assisted lucid dreaming.
This was not a world of my own making, but a place created by my subconscious to properly simulate my currently conscious mind in an unconscious state.
And as time went on, my subconscious smoothed every detail out for me, sharpening and refining the vague clarity into something resembling real human functions and feelings in the wakening world.
These fingers, I could move dexterously.
These thoughts, I could somewhat think clearly.
These blue lines in the ground, a compacted library of Mystery.
Right now I wasn't feeling up to practicing my Magecraft, even if the progress I could gain here was increased due to the higher mental gymnastics I had to employ in this dream world. This hour of cognizant unconsciousness was one of the only times I had to myself, where I could let the silence soothe my mind from the pure bullshit that is this reality.
Might as well go for a walk then.
I stood up on legs both imaginary yet opaque, and treaded through the expanse.
This 'dream marble' was a finite thing, with an edge to its square form and an ominous void waiting further away - one that suspiciously looked like the one I had spent between my two lives. I stayed away from it as often as I can, which is to say I've only walked to the edge twice in all the time I've been here.
Once for curiosity.
A second time for confirmation that, yes, it was the same place after death that I never wanted to willfully experience again. I didn't want to stare long enough for it to stare back, after all.
So I just spent my time going in circles, skipping around, whistling simultaneous tunes through the power of imagination, and overall just waiting for this dream sequence to end.
My feet stopped an inch before one of the dormant circuits on the ground, its form more intricate and more artificial than the ones around it.
It was a restriction of my mind, an ingrained instinct to not step on it like those lines or cracks in the pavement of a street - a fun little mental exercise where you go 'if I step on one of these cracks, then I die' sorta thing.
Naturally, I stepped on it.
This ain't my first rodeo, and I had nothing else to do.
[This transience, I discard it. This stagnation, I despise it. This life, I refuse with all my being, for that hand was still waiting, still open to grasp my own, to guide me through that world of mystery. A promise of knowledge, one I was hungering for, was within my sight.
A sad thing to feel, to realize it had been a lie.]
This time, I didn't recoil and fade back to the conscious world from the surge of memory; I did, however, flinch and slightly stumble on my feet as I processed it.
A memory of the first bearer of this Magic Crest, the first Magus in the line of Forvedge. I had seen it, experienced it, and in doing so, I stabilized the spell matrices ever so slightly, making my crest casting easier in the long run.
With this spiritual wetware, came their hopes and dreams, their sorrow and regret, the story of their pursuit for the Truth, the multitude of spells they catalogued within, and a piece of themselves that they pass on to a descendant.
I was that descendant, and my duty as heir was to continue their pursuit for the Akashic Records, the Root of all that exists, to obtain might beyond comprehension and transcend mortality.
That last part though, I sorta/kinda/maybe already did, by virtue of me being alive.
It was a personal secret, one known to me and only me, and frankly, I saw no purpose in dedicating my all to find a path to Akasha. I wasn't some power creep that tried to grasp at every bit of power that life had to offer; this universe only had sleeping dragons and crouching tigers that could destroy entire continents - it was paranoia more than anything that drives me.
No, I was just doing this for a promise, to assuage someone that I'd carry their dream for them, so they could rest easy and walk a path that didn't involve voluntary homicide. And if I wasn't doing my maximum-est to achieve that dream, then I couldn't see the point of keeping it.
A Magus walks with death, and nothing short of humanity's incineration could change that philosophy.
Some moments later, I went over to another piece of the Crest, feeling that same thought of 'this is risky' go through me again.
My foot came down.
[An incomplete work;
A final resignation;
It goes on once more;
This bloodline of hermitage;
A dream never to be found.]
Blotches of cloudy blurs filled my vision, but I held on to the state of unconsciousness, just for a bit longer.
Finishing my recollection of who appeared to be my grandfather, I walked over to a farther side of the dream marble, finding one of the lines I was looking for.
My eyes caught it immediately, and stared at the mesmerising flow of energy surging through it. The dynamic rotation of prana passively circulating throughout the rest of my soul…I could stay here and not get bored in the slightest, but that wasn't what I was here for.
Its artificial pattern was indicative of its being a part of the crest, but the structural contrast between it and my own circuits was as close as I can see.
Such was the sight of near perfect magic circuits, unmistakable from that of a noble's if one didn't check my family's mediocre lineage.
I knelt down, and gently touched it.
+!+!+!+!+
I heard it, a soft chime, a melancholy tune compared to the thunderous symphony that his energy usually exuded.
It was all I could do, all I could feel when my own magic took everything else away from me.
How long had it been since I tried to remove one of my circuits for the crest? A day? A week?
I didn't know, all I could do was hear the goings-on outside of the body that kept me a prisoner.
And amidst all the shambling of the many other sounds across our home, that soft chime was the most prominent of them all.
It rung a tune of guilt, of sadness, of anger, and I would've cried if I could.
…
The first thing I perceived when waking up was the hug that consumed me, followed by a wet feeling on my shoulder and the audible sobbing of my brother.
The melancholy chime, however, was replaced by the beat of a drum, and I couldn't have been happier for that one moment.
I noticed that I was moving my legs not long after.
+!+!+!+!+
In the waking world, I, Caules Forvedge of the Yggdramillennia clan, woke up with tears in my face…
And a blonde intruder right at my bedside, wearing an innocent expression.
Status de energia semanal
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