Capítulo 38: Imbalance
Zeyron sat apart, his gaze occasionally scanning the revelry. His golden eyes, usually sharp and calculating, flickered with unease as his thoughts turned inward.
Nova had been silent for too long.
Since the earlier battle and the feast that followed, Zeyron had sensed something amiss with his mana's. It was rare for Nova, the artificial intelligence deeply intertwined with his soul, to remain so withdrawn. Zeyron closed his eyes and focused inward, reaching for the presence he knew so well.
"Nova?" he called mentally.
Silence.
"Nova, what's going on? Talk to me."
Still nothing.
Zeyron frowned, his unease growing. He tried again, his tone more forceful this time. "Nova! Answer me."
There was no response, but deep within his consciousness, a strange sensation began to manifest—a pulsating rhythm, faint but growing stronger with each passing second.
Unbeknownst to Zeyron, Nova was fully immersed in a realm of calculations beyond mortal comprehension. His form, usually a serene entity within Zeyron's mind, now radiated an intense crimson light. His eyes, once calm and analytical, glowed red with an almost primal intensity as streams of data and probabilities flooded his being.
Numbers, equations, and patterns danced around Nova like a chaotic storm. He muttered incomprehensibly, his robotic voice fragmented. "Balance... primordial de… too much light… not enough shadow…"
Nova's synthetic form trembled, his systems overwhelmed as he processed infinite possibilities and outcomes. Yet, amidst the chaos, fragments of an ancient truth began to take shape—a truth that threatened to shatter everything he and Zeyron believed in.
---
Back in the physical world, Zeyron opened his eyes, now genuinely worried. He had tried reaching Nova three times and received no reply. His ever-calm companion, the one who had guided him through countless battles and crises, was silent.
"This isn't like him," Zeyron muttered to himself, rising from his seat. His concern deepened with every step as he made his way toward Veldanava, who stood speaking with Rudra near the balcony. If anyone could help, it would be the Creator himself.
Before Zeyron could call out, a voice stopped him in his tracks—a voice unlike any he had heard from Nova before.
[Stop… don't… seek… him…]
Zeyron froze. Nova's tone was mechanical, distorted, and devoid of its usual clarity. It sounded… wrong. The words reverberated in his mind, sharp and grating.
"What's going on, Nova?" Zeyron asked aloud, his voice laced with worry. "Why shouldn't I ask Veldanava for help? What's happening to you?"
[Don't… trust… imbalance…] Nova's fragmented voice cut in again, more broken this time.
Zeyron's heart sank. He had never heard Nova sound so unstable. "Nova, tell me what's wrong! You're not making sense!"
Before Nova could respond, Veldanava approached. His towering form radiated an aura of calm authority. "Is something troubling you, Zeyron?"
Zeyron hesitated. He opened his mouth to speak but then remembered Nova's warning. Forcing a casual tone, he shook his head. "It's nothing. Just… thinking about the battle earlier."
Veldanava's golden eyes lingered on him for a moment, as if sensing more, but he nodded and stepped away.
As soon as the Creator departed, Nova's voice returned, weaker and more fragmented than before.
"…pri…primordial… demons…"
Zeyron blinked, taken aback. "Primordial demons? Nova, there are no primordial demons here. Only the primordial angels exist."
For a moment, there was no reply. Then, in a voice so faint it was almost inaudible, Nova spoke. [… imbalance… too much… light…]
The words sent a chill down Zeyron's spine. He tried to reason with his companion. "What do you mean, 'not present'? What are you trying to say? There's nothing but primordial angels here."
Nova's voice crackled again, now a mere whisper in the recesses of Zeyron's mind. […good… evil… balance… Japan… not… ch…]
The connection fell silent.
"Nova?" Zeyron called out, his voice trembling. "Nova, answer me!"
No response came. Zeyron reached deeper into his consciousness, searching for any trace of his companion, but the silence was absolute.
---
Zeyron's mind raced as he stood motionless in the grand hall. The celebrations continued around him, oblivious to the turmoil within. He replayed Nova's broken words over and over, trying to make sense of their meaning.
Primordial demons… imbalance… good and evil… Japan… not ch…
The fragmented phrases echoed in his thoughts, each piece of the puzzle more cryptic than the last. What did Nova mean by "imbalance"? Why had he mentioned "Japan"? And what did he fail to complete with "not ch…"?
Zeyron clenched his fists, his golden eyes narrowing. Nova's warning had been clear enough to stir worry but cryptic enough to leave him in the dark.
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