Chapter 50
Mars inhaled once, before inquiring in a tone both incredulous and seeking, "So the medallion was a key? Was it meant to be verified by a particular hand?"
Li regarded him silently for a moment.
"When the fob and the compass are joined, they are no longer separate artifacts," he replied. "A creation of this kind wouldn't depend on a trivial addition. If protection was needed, it would've been built in from the start. The compass was always intended to act with it."
Mars and the others had recognized the pocket watch by its unusual traits: it was bound by laws that were so arcane that only its appointed bearer could eventually grasp its magnitude entirely, and rumours linked its origin to the Abundant Creator, who had granted the watchmaker a sanction of repair, allowing him to mend what should have been beyond mortal or divine ordinance.
Despite the constant variation in speculation, one detail never changed—the elixir and its components would only accept a precisely crafted addition.
Li had been tracing prospects ever since his meetings with Mars and Hoku, but it was only now that an evidence scenario began to settle.
He had long suspected that the missing component could only have come from a specific individual.
Strangely, even with Lunhard's name tied to the affair, his suspicions refused to settle on the man himself.
They'd never shared an encounter.
Additionally, Li had recognized the identity of someone else entirely, someone he had once exchanged letters with through a mutual contact.
He kept the thought to himself, partly to avoid drawing conclusions too early.
At the same time, he remained wary of Lunhard's exact reach and influence.
From the moment they drew near, he sensed another presence, carrying the same disturbingly malignant aura he'd once encountered with White Rice.
Drawing a composed breath, Li turned his scrutiny back on Mars and exclaimed, "I only know what you've told me about this 'passages-keeper,' and that's little more than hearsay. You've insisted that he, too, is subject to stern laws, yet here you are without a clue beyond his deceit. Every passage that might've once offered a clear way forward has been intentionally muddled.
It's made me wonder if that's precisely why your lantern ended up serving as nothing more than a lure. If this individual can traverse the passages unseen, he would understand that a small candle flame isn't enough to expose him, but it would still stand out subtly against its surroundings.
He used quite a tactic of misdirection, even hiding it in plain sight."
Mars' brow furrowed more as he stepped forward, the crimson atmosphere carving distinct shadows across his face.
"If this were all arranged to mislead us, what makes you so sure the statue hides a door? Was that just an improbable assumption?"
Li's posture eased, and his sword suddenly slipped lower at his side.
"I never recognized the name on the medallion. The inscription held no meaning for me." He paused, clicking his tongue as he recalled the phrasing.
"A Smith once wrote, 'I do not build the future in a single day. I work slowly, so that when my creations leave my hands, they do not betray their purpose. Every still creation requires a key to turn it, just as every treasure requires a keeper to guard it from unsteady hands.'"
Li abruptly raised his hand, and Mars immediately discovered the bloodied scrawl cut into his palm.
A single word stood out amid the smeared lines:
'Danté'
His eyes widened as realization set in, and Li gave no further explanation.
He simply lowered his hand, as both men understood how precarious their situation had become.
. . .
Almost at once, the black ichor leaking from the statue began to surge, as if awakening into the next phase.
RRRRRAAAAGH-SHRRRK!
A low, rending groan reverberated as if the very core of the structure were being torn open.
Simultaneously, the air grew colder beneath the lantern as everyone felt a gale sweep along the water.
Mars and Hoku recoiled instinctively.
The lantern slipped out of his grasp, landing in the water with a muted splash.
The oily surface reeled from the flame as if repelled.
Golden motes erupted from the statue's panes, circling the dying light, while broken shards beneath reflected their glow like scattered constellations. Mars's face turned ashen.
"Is it yielding to the light, or trying to smother it?"
But his voice was lost to the mounting rumble.
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Unlisted Grades 1/49
Category: Continuants
Cartographer Occultist — A Cartographer Occultist perceives and records the Final Accords, the metaphysical remnants left behind when a person's will is severed from their body. Upon "death," if one's strongest desires or unresolved intentions persist, they bind themselves to the world like incomplete contracts. These residues anchor the soul within the Sequel, preventing its dispersion or its passage into the Reliquary for reincarnation within the next sequence.
When a soul's fragments are weak, thus lacking awareness, cohesion, or direction, they are drawn instinctively toward others of similar resonance, merging into unstable conglomerates. These aggregations, composed of scattered consciousness, continue to accumulate until they reach a partial, corrupted stability, sufficient enough to manifest a limited physical form. In this way, lesser spirits emerge, evolving from formless residue into imperfect, self-sustaining entities.
From mostly personal records, those bearing the grade of Cartographer Occultist are uniquely attuned to this phenomenon. Through our natural skill of mapping and documentation of Final Accords, we can trace the convergence of such remnants and discover where and how these fragments are drawn together. In doing so, we also gain the ability to anticipate, redirect, or sever the formation of unstable soul clusters before they mature into corrupted or hostile spirits.
One was reported in the dimension sustained by a floral grade.
He goes by the name of "White Rice."
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To be continued…