Chương 89: CHAPTER 87 – Glory to Those Who Do Not Know

Lance quickly became aware of the dawn slipping through the window, cradled by the day's first snow. Winter had grown harsher as the end of the year approached. He set one foot on the floor, letting the covers slide to the ground. The sun was beginning to dim quietly, wrapped in greyish clouds. He pressed the back of his hand to his forehead, scratching away the small crusts from the corners of his eyes.

"Is it six in the morning?" He murmured, looking at the watch on his wrist. He uncovered himself completely, dressed in a dark blue suit, loose and made of fabric too light for the season. Both feet touched the floor, letting him feel the shock of a cold run through his skin. He cleaned his glasses with the sleeve of his shirt, surprised at how clear and bright they were.

"Okay, this is way too convenient…" He smiled, putting them back on his nose. He slipped on a pair of slippers and cast a glance at the grey, almost fleecy sky, like a pasture of sheep. Snow settled on the trees, spreading a white blanket over the island. He slowly opened the door to his room, careful not to wake his companion. He put on a zip-up hoodie hanging over one of the chairs, glancing at the woman stretched out on the sofa. The night before, Jeanne had tossed and turned, forcing him to leave her there.

She was strangely peaceful, her whole body covered by sheets except for her tired face. Her chest rose slowly, following a precise rhythm. Lance eased the door open, grabbing a slice of bread from the kitchen cupboard and slowly bringing it to his mouth as he left the room. With the note clutched in his hand, he walked briskly down the corridor, constantly looking around. The snow kept piling up relentlessly on the window ledges, more and more violently. The light cast shadows from outside, almost like long claws.

"L ucas… What the hell could have happened this time?" Lost in thought, he didn't see the slender figure step into his path. A violent headbutt snapped him back to reality, sending her to the floor. Looking up, he saw the frills of a white and black uniform, with long white hair decorated by a ribbon dangling in front of him.

"I'm terribly sorry, Lance Klint!" She apologised quickly, helping him back to his feet. Once again, the boy was surprised by the strength of that woman, so slender and petite.

"It's my fault. I was walking while lost in thought. You're not hurt, are you?" The maid shook her head, maintaining that composed, mature smile. She only straightened a few folds of her dress. Arte glanced toward the window, then at her own watch.

"I know you're on your way to visit Mr Lucas. I've already been told not to tell anyone." Lance turned pale for an instant, now realising how important the matter might be.

"If you don't mind, I'm already late for my duties by helping you, so please don't keep him waiting any longer." Her sweet, youthful smile was in complete contrast to that mechanical and somehow stern tone. Lance paid it no mind, smiling and thanking her before disappearing around the corner of the corridor. Arte watched him vanish, then sighed.

"Lucas… Is this truly the right choice?" She murmured, catching her reflection in the clear glass. Lance kept walking, glimpsing the room leading to the laboratory at the end of the corridor. The whole base was empty. Only Arte had crossed his path. Almost twenty minutes had passed since he woke, and now he was ready to descend the dark, strangely slippery stairs." Probably it has to do with the reports from the Leviathan operation and the appearance of Eve."

He was going down the steps, feeling the morning cold settle into his skin.

"Nobody knows what she is. I'm the only one with any knowledge of it, and Jeanne probably hasn't even understood what kind of creature she is, or they are, since I'm fairly sure Tux did something to free me." He remembered the taste of vomit on his tongue and the disgusting smile of that woman, now unveiled and disturbingly identical to his older sister Eva. He gave himself a light tap on the head, unable to remember anything.

"Damn it, Tux is a grown man while Eve is far too similar to my sister. I haven't been able to talk to Tux since he was devoured on the train. And what did he mean when he said not to hate her? How can I not hate her after she almost killed Maliard and Jeanne? And what the hell are that child and that winged woman inside Lachesi?" Desolate, he clutched his head." Way too many questions!" He struck his head twice with dull blows, grabbing his cheeks.

"Let's take it slowly! Tux and Eve are in sharp contrast. The second seems obsessed with the child I dreamed of, Damian, whom Tux also seems to know. Neither of them is from this era, but they don't come from the past. Tux seems powerless, but Eve can rebuild her body using Vergehen when I lose control. I have no idea about Damian, the woman inside Lachesi, or why I have visions of the other members of NOIR, but it's certain that after the transformation my core has strengthened."

Satisfied, he nodded, quickening his pace and finding himself in Lucas's laboratory. It was exactly as it had been the first time: flasks, test tubes, computers, scattered papers, and a faint chemical smell in the air. It was brighter now, though, perhaps because of the sporadic flames casting the shadow of the tall man at the centre. He was wrapped in his classic bluish-lined lab coat, dirty with oil and various reddish stains. On his face was a heavy iron mask with a single glass slit for the eyes.

He was welding and fusing a disc of rock, taking pieces and analysing them under a column of extremely thin, conical lenses. As soon as Lance moved, the flames stopped, and Lucas turned around. He lifted the mask, smiling with his eyes covered by that black blindfold. The bluish strands of his hair were greasy, probably from the oil on his large gloves.

"Hello, Lance! I'm truly sorry to have dragged you from your sleep." He yawned as he spoke, and Lance smiled, waving a hand.

"As you can see, even I need to sleep now and then. A couple of hours a month is enough." Lance's eyes widened, and he burst out laughing as he sat on one of the very tall chairs.

"Did you call me for a medical visit?" Lance asked, while the scientist cleaned his hands under a strong stream of water operated by a lever pressed with the sole of his shoe. He nodded, turning toward him.

"Mainly, but unfortunately that's not all…" His voice was strangely worried, deep and heavy. The boy sighed, lowering his gaze, hoping he wouldn't have to see those parchments.

"I know what you're thinking, and that's exactly the problem." Lance began to tremble almost imperceptibly and lose colour. Lucas placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to calm him.

"Relax, we'll sort it out, but I have a duty to inform you of my discoveries." Lance nodded, placing his hand over Lucas's. The man smiled, beginning to probe the entire body of his patient with his ability. After a few minutes, he stopped, lowering a projector for images.

"This is the cinema you like so much. It works the same way even without film, except it can project what I can investigate with my ability." Lance smiled, seeing a representation of his own body printed on the wall.

"That tattoo is the problem…" Lance lifted his shirt, uncovering it. Unlike his scars, it faded for a little while, only to return a few hours later. It moved across his skin before slowly vanishing. Lucas rolled up his sleeve, revealing similar tattoos on his right arm, all representing various chemistry formulas and elements of the periodic table.

"I asked Lexa for information from Dirac, and they kindly sent me a working film." He grabbed a black reel from the table, hurrying to take a second projector, this time with an opening for film. Beside the first image, Grayson's face appeared, with Lexa behind him in a red hooded bathrobe.

"It's a pleasure for me to be of help to a symbol of science like Mr Hoppenheimer!" He smiled sincerely, while Lexa behind him made various faces, positioning herself in front of the camera to make two fingers appear behind poor Grayson's head.

"Regarding Malcolm, he called himself a vessel, or as they wrote in the reports, an Omen … I think it's an ancient word for portent. In any case, it's not clear what it means. At present, however, all people who present a black, glossy tattoo on their skin are to be considered Omen." Grayson uncovered his arm, showing the physical formulas and numbers wrapped around his skin. Even Lexa was surprised, looking away.

"Don't worry! It's not the first time she's seen them. It's just that no one knows what they are yet, so we have various concerns." His face was always smiling, a different person from the one Lance had met at the Ruther Institute, and that warmed Lance's heart, so he couldn't help but smile.

"For the second question… I can only report that man's words." The air grew tense, sharp as he searched for the right words buried in his mind.

"The gods certainly exist, but don't think they care about humanity… Those were his words." Behind him, Lexa began nervously biting her painted nails.

"That's all I remember or can say with certainty. It's been a pleasure; I hope to be of help again." Lexa stepped closer, blew a kiss to the projector, and turned it off completely. Lucas and Lance were left staring at the biometric image of his body.

"A good boy, intelligent and with a strong will… But also a good liar." Lucas smiled, sitting down near Lance and pointing at his chest.

"Anyone who has manifested this mark must have had visions or dreams connected to it. In your case, I have no idea, but I'm sure Grayson Dirac has also met the first pillar of Erudition, Nikola Ruther." Lance remembered that name perfectly, buried in the underground of the Institute.

"Yeah, I saw his hologram. So that means that you two are connected somehow?"

"Nikola, Grayson, and I belong to what was called the Pillar of Erudition. However, Nikola is also a member of something beyond the Pillar. In his diary, he speaks of other Pillars and of the Cerei. M ost likely they are connected." Lucas pulled from his breast pocket an old engraved iron disc, with a reddish inscription reading "Nikola Ruther."

"So why would Grayson have lied? And doesn't that mean I might be an Omen too?" Lance touched his chest, and Lucas nodded.

"Lance, you are certainly an Omen. Your analyses show that your Frequency is merging with something different, something even I don't fully understand. Grayson most likely lied to avoid causing panic. After all, that would mean the Lost Epoch fills in the lost history." The image of his body rotated, showing in detail all the levels of substances and operations inside him.

"Your stress levels are dropping noticeably, which is excellent, and the medicine from Machinamentum seems to have completely rebuilt the pseudo-core contained in the amygdala." Lucas's mood darkened as he spoke, nervously tapping his fingers on his thigh. He bent down, grabbing the cylinders containing the analyses.

"You have nothing wrong with you, and that's the problem." Lance watched the new chart being unrolled before him and immediately felt a jolt to his heart. Unlike the previous one, the Frequencies were completely random, even chaotic. His name mixed with the other two until it disappeared completely, absorbed into the red line.

"Eve…" He murmured weakly, as Lucas pointed to the two lines gushing out of that reddish peak. In total, Lance's chart presented no fewer than five distinct lines, constantly blending.

"You're healthy… I don't fully understand why your analyses can be like this. Probably Lachesi awakened your mark, and now we're seeing the consequences." Lance stared at Lucas attentively while scratching his head nervously.

"Lucas, since what we say will eventually come out… Can I be honest?" The scientist gave a nod. Lance took a breath, preparing himself.

"I've had hallucinations since I woke up, and only Jeanne partly knows the story. The thing I turned into was the same woman who assaults me in moments of weakness." He couldn't see Lucas's expression beneath the blindfold, but he could imagine the dismay underneath. Lucas got to his feet, immediately grabbing a couple of parchments.

"Lance, this conversation must remain between us and only us. We may have finally reached a turning point in understanding the true story of Nikola." He immediately unrolled the parchment. The first thing that caught the eye was the initials: Commander A. N.

"August Noir, after the founder's death, was elected as the second Commander of NOIR operations. These are all the analyses done from his promotion until shortly before his disappearance." Lucas pointed to the highest curve with a trembling finger.

"Your readings are almost identical and present the same overlap with those 'contaminations.'" Lance saw with horror that as the dates progressed, the curve rose higher and higher until it stabilised toward the end.

"At first, everything was normal, but when Aline fell ill… August became another person." Lance stared at Lucas, confused, looking at him as if he had just said something alien. Lucas noticed immediately, sitting down and taking deep breaths.

"Aline and August were just like you and Jeanne. August was recruited shortly after the end of the war. He barely knew how to take care of himself or speak our language, or any language. Aline was recruited later, and they soon became a lovely couple, two true promises… Until she fell ill." He pointed at the beginning of the curve.

"It was a disease never seen before. It was as if her very F requency was deteriorating, and maybe her termìcian blood is to blame. The symptoms were occasional delusions, violent personality changes, and long, painful sleep. She spoke of having to rejoin something, and yet she cried, despaired, and struck herself. Every time he left Aline's room, August's eyes were glassy, and after a while they went completely dark." Lucas hesitated, pausing for a few seconds before standing abruptly.

He opened the second parchment as well, with the initials J. G.

"Lance… Jeanne has had the same symptoms, though in a milder form. Her readings weakened before entering a state of delirium, but she doesn't present the condition you two have presented." The boy stared at the thin lines printed on the paper, growing paler with every movement of his pupils. His breathing quickened. His fingers tapped the paper nervously, crumpling it.

"Listen…" Lucas stood abruptly, moving toward the far end of the laboratory. Lance watched him from the corner of his eye as he fiddled with something on the bookshelf near the shelves and cabinets. A strange vibration passed through the laboratory as a door appeared in the wall, black as pitch and with the stylised N of NOIR above it.

"If we're to work together, you need to know everything. I promise I will help Jeanne." Lance rose slowly, approaching the scientist with his hand outstretched. The boy gripped the cold skin, shaking it firmly. Lucas smiled, giving a nod.

"Nobody knows about this door. Noir and I built it after discovering Nikola's first computer. It's not as clean and tidy as Maverick's inventions, but it isn't dangerous." He smiled, leading him into the dark corridor lit by grim bars of faint blue light.

"Lance, with everything I've managed to gather, I can tell you with certainty that whoever is behind your file knew Nikola's plans and what happened before the birth of Bayork." Lance nodded, with a renewed thirst for truth.

"I need to know. I can't just stand here with a veil over my face. So, Lucas... Go on and speak." The scientist nodded, rhythmically adjusting his pace on the stairs.

"The Fortschritt project you underwent aimed to create a Meta capable of withstanding the Plague described in Nikola's diary. I have no idea how or who was behind it, but the mere fact that the name Nyx Monoghan is written on your file makes the matter terribly complicated." Lucas quickened his pace, followed closely by the boy. Their footsteps echoed in the silence of their pauses.

"The only record of Nikola would be from 210 P. E., but even then, known history begins with the legend of Eifibes." Lucas nodded, pulling his old notebook from his dirty coat. If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

"The legend of Eifibes… You know it, don't you?" Lucas turned toward the boy, who answered with a quick nod.

"In a time when humanity was powerless against the darkness, a courageous girl moved by the spirit of light threw herself into the mouth of the underworld. After days of darkness, she was reborn to protect the heart of humanity." Lucas snapped his fingers in approval.

"Perfect, and yet no one has any idea what this goddess looks like. Termìe shattered every iconographic form and replaced it with its own. The cult of Eifibes is only a derivative of the original, and most likely the Cerei are involved in the majority of these changes." The corridor began to widen, and the air turned freezing.

"Nikola was also the first physician to study the physical condition of our people, whom he called the Marked. The names align with the founding families. Dyer Craft, Chaterine Ross, Marie Loten, Evans Aurelius, Edgard Faren, Mercadier Vienne. In Nikola's diary, they are all portrayed with their respective crests, and they correspond to those of the archipelago. However, an eighth name is mentioned here… Abend Jeager." They finished walking, finding themselves in a circular room where breath became condensation.

"Abend Jeager is at the centre of the ten years of preparation begun at the start of 200 P. E. to counter the plague. This person seemed to be very close to Dyer. Nikola often cited various plans to convince him to fight, which I think means that Abend betrayed the Cerei. Nikola avoided discussing it in his personal diary, but in the report on the plague he explains that during that decade it went dormant, as if something were growing inside it." A column emerged before them, rising from the black, opaque floor.

It was wide, hollow inside, almost like an elevator.

"The theories are many, but I am certain that Nikola recorded the birth of a Teufel or worse!" The column opened like the wings of an eagle, allowing the two to enter.

"But that doesn't explain the difference between the Calamity and the Plague treated by Nikola." Lance waited behind the scientist. Lucas pressed a sequence on the terminal at the centre of the elevator, nodding.

"Indeed, we cannot fully reconstruct history from Nikola's diary, but we can reconstruct a series of events to help us. After all, that is science." He smiled when suddenly the column plunged into the ground, stunning Lance.

"Among the possible facts, we have that Bayork was the second capital, rebuilt over the original one, Medeas. Moreover, the majority of families here come from other nations, and some mention new places never heard of, such as Baroque and Helos… That would mean the story of Eifibes's sacrifice happened after a second dark age. We know nothing of the time before Eifibes." Lance stared at him, wide-eyed, remembering the buried tunnels during his second clash with Malcolm.

"So Eve is a deity?" He asked, feeling the column's speed decrease steadily. Lucas shook his head, watching the column come to a complete stop.

"From your reports and Maliard's, the tattoos of those two are similar, nothing compared to yours. Eve is somehow part of the core, but she doesn't belong to the same pillar, and we have no certainty that she appears in Malcolm's dreams as well. Also, I believe some external variable is required for a full awakening as a Pillar." Lance remembered the woman inside Lachesi and his constant visions, when he suddenly recalled the gigantic door and the hooded woman.

The glow of those three stars and the cold, bloodstained coat of his sister.

"What's wrong, Lance? I know what I'm saying is a lot, but please bear with it." The boy nodded, unable to shake the hypnotic voice of that woman with a face wrapped in darkness. A promise unknown to him, forgotten.

"Lucas, what's the history of Lachesi?" The doors opened abruptly, revealing the frozen blue room. Every breath became mist, and for the first time Lance felt his own flesh tremble." Lachesi was found by Noir. Nothing is known about that relic. We only know that it chooses its own owner and that it's twinned with Cloto, Monica's pistol. Noir was chosen, but…" Lucas stopped speaking, mumbling something. He turned and smiled, leading him into the cold circular room.

"Sorry, but after almost a century, I'm losing pieces. This conversation will have to wait." Lance stared at him attentively. Their gazes met and held for a few seconds.

"We're both omitting something, aren't we, Lucas?" The scientist smiled, making the blindfold glow with a cobalt light. He stroked Lance's head slowly and gently with circular motions.

"People are not objects, Lance. You can't force them and fuse them to extract something. Otherwise, they'll break. Not even science can weld the wounds of a broken person. The reconstruction of a soul is an incredibly beautiful process, and equally disgusting in its opposite." Lance nodded at those words, understanding them and following him. The room was extraordinarily large, and the column that had carried them there fell perfectly at its centre.

The floor was transparent, crossed by dozens of red and violet pipes, all funnelled into a series of complex black machines arranged in a curve along the room's perimeter. Above them hung an artificial light, faint and soft.

"Those are computers I developed personally to integrate with the analytical ability of my tattoo. They allow me to channel all information and discoveries and analyse them externally. They're like a second brain!" Lucas explained in a cheerful tone, laying his palm on a slab as glossy and black as obsidian.

"So the Omen gave you a standalone ability?" Lucas nodded, pressing the surface with his hand. They all lit up at once, glowing with a violet hue. Dozens of numerical sequences and data exploded across the screens while all the energy was funnelled into the gigantic capsule. Lance felt a shiver at the sight of that black glass, sensing something disgusting beneath it. Without a word, the scientist removed the blindfold and tossed it to the ground.

"When Grayson Dirac awakened, I had a vision… A colossus of rock and magma, intent on forging a kingdom. It was such a mad vision that I completely dismissed it, but now I'm convinced that he saw the same thing, the same god." The air became terribly dense, crushed by the aura of that man, now busy working the terminal near the capsule.

"This is my worst secret, the fruit of NOIR's forbidden research." The glass cleared, revealing the figure immersed in dense liquid, crossed by a myriad of bubbles. Lance brought a trembling hand to his mouth, suppressing nausea and anguish. Before him was a body devoured by black slime, half woman and half man. From the missing legs emerged pieces of animals, like snakes and birds. The face, or what remained of it, was partly human while the rest was covered in scales and tentacles like centipedes.

Below the navel, just above the pubic area, a tattoo depicted a swarm of creatures emerging from a person's stomach.

"This being is Ofione, the first known Meta to become a Teufel, and a member of the Jury. Most likely one of the first Pillars documented in this era, a beast that would have exterminated Andimica if it hadn't been stopped." Lance stepped closer to the creature, watching as the black slime was constantly moved by the currents in the water.

"That black substance you see is matter devoid of Frequency, devoid of form and connection to Hel … Pure nothingness." Lance couldn't explain, but he felt as if someone was slowly piercing his stomach.

"Ofione was most likely a biologist at one of the collection stations off the archipelago when she awakened due to a singularity. The high doses of radiation and her obsession with her work granted her an immortal body and the ability to produce true amalgams of creatures using her own flesh. She was a disaster, barely communicative. And yet, when she spoke… She said she had come here to deliver the horror her predecessors had failed to give humanity. Ofione was an almost complete Pillar, a Pseudo-Deity."

Lance felt his actual vertebrae vibrate, almost as if an instinct were demanding he vanish.

"Did you kill this being? A Pseudo-Deity?" Lucas caressed the glass, smiling.

"Me? I didn't kill her. August did… He was the real monster. He had already faced Ofione alone, wounding her but taking too much damage, and we were forced to forbid him from going on missions. August showed up anyway and tore her to pieces like a beast in front of us. It was the first time I truly felt terror. It frightens me to think that you two are similar." Lucas took a deep breath, letting his fingers slide over the capsule." Madame Nuit … August's ability was terrifying. A true Verwinder.

He digested the Frequency of others and created tar to absorb more, making everything hollow and lifeless. You steal it and keep it circulating inside you, but that's proportional to the damage inflicted. August had no such limit and was diabolically skilled at using it." He pointed to the black scar on his neck.

"I awakened my tattoo against the Unnamed. I was lucky, unlike Maliard. Monica, Lautre, Arte, and Edvard were also hit, but only marginally. However, there is no difference between our wounds and those of Ofione. They were inflicted in the same way." He pressed his nails against the glass, making it screech. Lance stared at him with eyes wide open, like a deer caught in headlights.

"I believe the Unnamed to be a perfectly incarnated Pillar, a true deity. Unlike Ofione, however, it was a terribly intelligent Teufel before evolving." Lance took a step forward, remembering his own encounter, yet unable to utter a single word.

"Doesn't that mean the Unnamed was born from August or Aline?" Lance ventured with a shy, trembling voice, and silence fell over the cold room. Lucas laughed weakly, then burst into a nervous laugh.

"Impossible. Physical structure, frequency, tactics didn't match either of them. And besides…" Lucas turned, his blue eye fixed on Lance, while the other was covered by the monocle chained to his face, grim and dark, with the surrounding skin corrupted by that black slime. His face was young, that of a person near thirty, but with tired, hollow eyes. His pupil symbolised an atom, with dark, bluish outlines. The aura in the room crashed down on the boy's shoulders, immediately lighting his eyes gold.

"I killed August Noir and Aline Renard with my own hands, with the very eye that was torn from me." He smiled, turning toward the boy, his figure wrapped in a sea of spheres and dancing formulas. Lance stared at him, mute, hands trembling and clenched.

"Boy, I am not a good person. I have killed many people." He smiled, bending down to pick up the blindfold. He tied it over his eyes, drawing closer to the boy. Lance kept looking at him, now face to face. He smiled, shaking his hand.

"The Lucas I know is a good person. I'd accept even your wickedness, but you haven't shown it to me, so to me you're not evil." The boy tilted his head, closing his eyes and smiling. An image surfaced before the scientist, a memory buried in his century-old mind. A clearing in the middle of the woods, with him leaning back against a massive trunk. He remembered he was crying, and yet the girl in front of him smiled, repeating the same words.

"You are not a bad person." She kept saying it, swaying her long blonde hair, helped by the breeze carrying the scent of the sea. Lucas smiled, in turn shaking Lance's hand.

"Good people are recognised by the way they speak…" The boy stared at him, stunned, watching him lean against the wall.

"Monica told me the same thing when I was recruited. I was depressed. I tried to kill myself a couple of times, but my body rebuilt itself. Once I tried to hide, but she found me and convinced me to continue my passion for science." Lance nodded, still smiling.

"Lucas, do you like Monica?" The man immediately turned toward the boy, tilting his neck in near total confusion.

"Of course I do. She's the reason I'm here now. I'd love to repay her, but after everything that's happened…" Lance moved beside him, resting a hand on his shoulder.

"You know, she loved Bluette very much, and after she died… She cut her hair to look like her, but it didn't suit her, and she fought with Maliard as soon as she recovered from the assault. Now she has her own style, but she still adopts Bluette's mannerisms without knowing it." Lance clutched his chest, licking his lip to moisten it against the freezing air.

"Yesterday she rushed here to make a report about you and Jeanne! She was extremely worried. After a while she made me entertain her with some experiments. She stayed for an hour watching me while worrying about you two." Lucas seemed somehow sad when he spoke of her, as if he were unworthy of uttering her name.

"How could I ask anything of her when I manage to do so little to help her?" Lance nodded, tapping his forehead.

"Lucas… You and I might really be cut from the same cloth!" Lance laughed, continuing to tap him. The scientist pulled back, confused, while the boy wiped a tear from his eye.

"The people whose efforts go most unnoticed are ourselves." Lucas began laughing with him, both trying to forget the entire atmosphere. After a few minutes, Lance opened his mouth, observing him.

"Lucas… I'll help you, but next time we tell each other everything! Just promise me you'll help Jeanne." Lucas nodded, making the column reappear. They both stepped inside when the scientist handed him a white sheet folded so tightly it was unsettlingly stiff.

"I'd like you to read this. It's one of the few dialogues of Nikola that I'm failing to fully decipher. Read it when you have time. It concerns that man called Dyer Craft. I'll give you the rest once I've fully finished the analysis." They found themselves back in the laboratory. The clock was approaching eight. Lucas and Lance exchanged one last nod, and the man watched him climb the stairs.

"Hey, Lucas… Make room for your feelings too. It'll do you good." The boy hurried up the steps, putting the note in his pocket. Lucas went to sit on the edge of the window, sighing.

"Coming from you, that really gives me something to think about." He smiled when he noticed a figure reflected in the glass. A hooded man with arms covered in symbols and scars.

"So you've returned, Nikola?" The man appeared seated before him, clasping both his hands. His face was youthful, sharp, and somehow cheerful. His hair was shoulder-length and terribly messy.

"I thank you sincerely for helping this generation, but I erased that history for a reason. It's for the best, believe me." Lucas looked him straight in the eyes; it was only a cluster of memories and instincts, but that feeling was genuine. He took his hand and smiled.

"Science always finds a way. Someone will have to remember the lost time." Nikola lowered his gaze, sighing.

"Two Omens living in the same era… What an unexpected turn history has taken." He vanished, reappearing at the other window.

"Who knows what will happen to you two…" He smiled, dissolving into nothing, abandoning Lucas to the cold solitude of the morning laboratory. Lucas sighed, silently counting snowflakes. Meanwhile, Lance had already moved to the gym, heading into the deepest and most isolated section. Along the way, he had met many soldiers and aides deployed on the island, smiling at each of them.

He approached his locker, put away his clothes, and dressed only in a pair of very loose white trousers, tight only at the waist and ankles. He closed the locker gently, sealing it, and walked to the centre of the arena.

"I have to thank Lautre for letting me use this even though it's new…" He smiled, pressing the keys on the terminal, selecting various icons and raising the start lever. Around him, columns of reddish, gleaming metal appeared. Lance immediately struck one, shattering it. Instantly the others moved, forming cylinders like arms and legs. One after another, he smashed them, piercing them with his arms and splitting them in half with kicks.

He grabbed the last one by the torso, lifting it off the ground and slamming it into the centre of the arena. He caught his breath, clapped his hands, and suddenly all the remains became liquid, flowing to the centre of the training area and disappearing. Lance smiled, rotating his wrist.

"I've improved! I should raise the difficulty." He turned toward the terminal, only to have a paper bag thrown in his face. Stunned, he fell backward, looking at the man before him.

"And here I thought I'd woken up early… You never stop training, do you, Lance?" Maliard stared at him, almost surprised, his muscular arms crossed, one well covered by Compulsion. He wore cut-off black trousers that reached his knees and a fitted black tank top. Without his glasses, his eyes were more vibrant, in contrast to the shadows cast by his hair falling over his forehead.

"Eat something, and let's train. Maybe you'll learn something useful." Lance pulled out a bottle of milk and a brown plate full of eggs and meat from the bag. He smiled, eating quickly, completely forgetting to savour each bite.

"Why did you come here with food? Did you see me, by any chance?" The boy asked, sending a shiver down Maliard's spine. He got up from the ground, completely drained the bottle of milk, and placed it gently in the appropriate container.

"Well… You're the type who forgets to eat." He scratched his head nervously, turning and assuming a guard stance. Lance smiled, stretching his arms back and taking his position. One with a low centre of gravity, the other tall with his fists almost crossed in front of his face.

"Have the others woken up?" Lance asked, lunging at him. Maliard grabbed his arm, blocking him and forcing him to the ground. Lance stopped his fall with a violent stomp, aiming at Maliard's side.

"Almost all of them. Arte failed to wake Jeanne. She found her stretched out in the kitchen, cocooned in the blankets." The exchange continued, with Lance slightly at an advantage. A kick opened the distance between them again, both smiling.

"If I push myself, will you teach me to use the computer?" He asked, approaching Maliard slowly. The man laughed, clapping his hands.

"I'll think about it." He appeared before the boy, who blocked him quickly, lifting him onto his shoulders to throw him away. Maliard grabbed him with his legs, thwarting his efforts.

"What?! You promised!" After a moment of silence, both laughed. Maliard's glove lit up, and Lance's eyes turned gold.