Chương 98: CHAPTER 96 – Metaphysical Value

"To start dreaming right when you're about to wake is truly a shame…" Lance woke with a roaring pain in his temples, finding himself in his bed resting atop a colossal tree with a thick emerald crown. He couldn't feel it, but at the mere sight, the leaves seemed like granite.

The green surface was mottled with white and black touches, as seen on diseased oaks, and yet it was unlike any tree in the world he had ever seen: it had dark capillaries, unique markings that branded the individual leaves and branches, and a strange white aura like a cloud of pollen all around. Lance looked around, searching for that voice, but the only thing he could make out was death and destruction. The only healthy tree left in that darkness was his; the rest was a wooden slaughter.

Black stumps stretched endlessly toward the horizon.

"Raise your head, Lance Klint." The voice echoed above him, making his pale skin crawl. The boy did as ordered, meeting a black veil soaked in blood.

"Eve…" He couldn't know it, but he sensed that the towering figure was smiling beyond the darkness masking her. Looking more closely, Eve's body was bound by dark vines, emerging directly from the trunk of the imposing tree.

"Don't address me in that boring tone. When you fainted, I was the one in control, you know? If that filthy wretch hadn't interfered, by now I would have made you part of me." Lance heard the wet smack of her lips. He rose from the bed, freezing at the contact with the dense mass of leaves pressed beneath his soles. He stared in silence at the world, unable to shake the presence of that predator at his back.

"Is this my core again?" He turned with a tired face, glancing back. The chained woman nodded, raising her finger in total silence. Above them swirled a black sphere with a vaguely pale outline. Lance felt his stomach coil in suffering, as if he had seen his own heart beating far from his chest.

"Unlike that bastard, this place belongs to me, and I've consumed it completely. Your tree is the only thing left of me." Lance couldn't move. He could only stare at the dead domain where he kept settling. Lance sat on the edge of the bed, holding his head in his hands.

"You said 'filthy'… So that wasn't my mother?" Eve stopped completely, sneering. A few moments later she exploded into a thunderous laugh, released from the depths of her throat.

"Are you stupid? Did the relic burn away what little soul you'd managed to develop?! Your mother is dead. In fact, she never existed for you!" Lance sprang to his feet, raising his arm and clenching his fingers. A terrible boom crossed the entire realm, splitting the ground buried beneath the dead bark.

"That dog won't help you again, and I won't be willing to give you the slightest bit of news. You're just a body breathing with stolen lungs. However, I want to give you a small piece of advice." Lance's vision cracked, as if he had been looking through glass the entire time.

"That thing... Stay away from it." Everything went dark, and immediately his stomach was pervaded by a warm, soft sensation. He awoke in that cathedral room where he had fainted the first time. Everything was in its place, not an ounce of difference.

"I wouldn't want to leave an imprint… That would be embarrassing." He got up, scratching his head when he felt resistance against his stomach, as if a weight were pressed there. He lowered his eyes, noticing a brown, combed mass blocking him.

"JEANNE!" The girl yawned as she stretched, staring him straight in the face. A few minutes passed, and she realised that the person in front of her was alive and that she was no longer in the comfort of dreams.

"L-L-Lance! How long have you been awake?!" She murmured, with several red patches painted on her cheeks. Her fingers trembled, and somehow he could feel her teeth chattering behind her lips.

"Just now! I didn't hear anything! Though I'm sure you didn't say anything! DID ANYTHING! Sorry…" With each word, the girl's situation worsened, and now Lance could have sworn he saw smoke rising from her hair. In her panic, he noticed her smile, now terribly relaxed.

"How many more times will you make us worry…" Lance stared at her arm, completely healed of all wounds. He sighed, throwing himself back onto the pillow.

"I apologised and made the whole agency worry again… I'm the worst." He said it laughing, but with a veil of bitterness in those words. Jeanne stood up, snorting, grabbed him by the shoulders, and sat him upright.

"If you hadn't been there, Maliard and I would be dead, and the same goes for those two… You saved everyone. Stop thinking badly of yourself!" Her face was extraordinarily serious and so distant from the girl he had defended that first morning. Her voice no longer trembled, and her eyes were fixed on his face, solid and tinged with that bluish, slightly melancholic glow. An inexplicable pang struck his chest, but it wasn't so painful. His nerves lay unharmed beneath his skin.

Lance timidly pulled back, and Jeanne did the same.

"You speak better and look people in the face. I'm happy." He murmured through clenched teeth, staring at a corner of the room, keeping only her shoulder in his field of vision.

"It-It's normal when I'm dealing with y-y-you… Damn it, I did it again!" Jeanne pulled all her hair over her face, trying somehow to make it a mask over her red face. Lance stared at her in silence, not noticing how his lips were slowly twisting into a smile. The moment he noticed, he covered them, confused.

"Am I still exhausted from the nightmare? No, there's nothing wrong with me… Is it something about her?" He stole a glance at her face, with a couple of strands stuck to her slightly damp skin. Her red lips protruded from the thin brown threads, perfectly balanced in shape and size. But what captivated him most were always her eyes, gems cast into a moonlit lake. He lingered on her slender neck, pulsing with vitality, slowly descending to her shoulders.

With each glance, the pangs worsened, and yet he didn't mind them.

"Lance… Do I look ridiculous?" That thin whisper brought him back to reality, strong enough to leave him stunned. Jeanne looked at him curiously, trying to tie her hair back clumsily. Her fingers slipped along the black ribbon, and she, trying not to be noticed, kept retrieving it.

"No, you're adorable!" Jeanne stopped moving and stared at him, white as a ghost, while he smiled blissfully, unaware of his words. Only when he noticed Jeanne blushing terribly did Lance hear his sentence echo in his ears. His pupils swelled, and his voice broke in his throat, reduced to a mere conglomerate of disconnected sounds.

"Sorry, I was wrong! The words came out on their own, and I didn't…" After minutes of constant stammering, that sentence had managed to make its way through his embarrassment. Jeanne lowered her head, sighing. Lance felt a shiver run from his big toe to the nape of his neck. She moved closer to him, staring straight into his eyes.

"If you later find time to accompany me around the capital, I'll forgive you! But right now they're waiting for you in the nave…" The bold tone faded, leaving a bitter note in her voice.

"Elise! Is Elise awake?" Jeanne nodded slowly, resting her right hand on her opposite shoulder.

"She's now a Meta too, but still immature… At least that's what Lucas said." The grip of her fingers became more evident, and Lance somehow felt pain at the mention of their scientist's name.

"Lucas talked about me… Didn't he?" Jeanne turned her face, nodding mechanically.

"He said he doesn't know how you can still be alive, and he's even more confused about why the relics on the scene chose you." Lance shook his head, only now noticing the faint itch on his neck. He felt it with his index finger, finding a small, rough bump: a rather deep scar at the base of his nape.

"When you fainted and Malcolm vanished, both the crosses and Abbondius's mantle emerged from the ash and fused with you. Lucas and Maverick said that Lachesi forcibly stole their Frequency, forcing you to become their owner." She examined the black bracelet, now constantly fixed to his biceps. Strange veins seemed to beat beneath the very glossy dark surface. He focused all of himself on fixing that tedious itch in his mind, slowly bringing his fingers closer to Lachesi.

"Did it work?" He said, now wrapped in a tattered mantle of black velvet with a scarlet interior. Jeanne stared at him, confused, like a precious cocoon. Lance rose quickly from the bed, stumbling several times as he tried to settle it on his body. He fidgeted, constantly moving his free hand until the mass arranged itself over his bandaged body.

"Lance… Where does that come from?" Jeanne asked, a few steps from the fresh gash on the floor. Lance stared silently at the silver cross that had just appeared between his fingers. It was the same weapon as Abbondius's, except for the black, rust-like streaks on its surface. Confused like her, the boy stared at the weapon's hilt, proceeding to spin it.

"Abbondius made objects appear from inside this, right? Maybe Lachesi has made the mantle capable of storing more things? At least I assume so." Lance aimed the point of the cross toward the red velvet, slowly making it disappear. He pulled his fingers away, also immersed in that strange cold sensation, returning empty-handed.

The mantle quickly changed shape, wrapping around him until it formed a completely new uniform: now he was dressed in a perfectly fitted red shirt, with black trousers whose bottoms were terribly wide. Jeanne stared at him, dazed, now sitting on the edge of the bed.

"It's so comfortable! So much so that it feels like I'm not wearing anything." He smiled, examining his wrists and elbows. The bandages protruded slightly from the neck and sleeves of the uniform.

"Are you sure it's normal? I mean… Maverick said relics aren't that safe." Lance looked around, nodding while scratching his head.

"I'm as confused as all of you… But I don't feel strange." Jeanne sighed, pointing at the door with a tilt of her head.

"Don't keep Elise waiting…" Lance nodded, but before opening the door, he decided to sit beside her, keeping his head lowered to stare at the floor.

"What do you think of her?" he asked, smiling, unable to meet her gaze. Jeanne, surprised, murmured something, trying to construct something coherent.

"Honestly… I see a lot of myself in her. Elise isn't bad and is truly very kind. When I spoke to her, she complimented me and smiled after I told her the whole story." Lance nodded, still maintaining that good-natured smile.

"Jeanne, there are things you should know. I hope I have a little time for you…" He blushed slightly, closing the door behind him and leaving Jeanne in the room. The girl stared at the entrance for a couple of seconds, rising from her seat. A smile formed on her red face, and her arms began to wave. Without realising it, she started hopping in total silence. Lance felt a chill digging into his bones as he retraced his old steps through the cathedral.

His clothing was perfectly capable of shielding him from the cold, and yet something darker nagged him. The echo of his footsteps annoyed him, and he missed the nuns, now understanding how barren of life the place was. He turned the last corner and saw her, seated in prayer on one of the front pews. She wore an opaque white dress and a golden diadem with a blue ribbon falling over her shoulder. All her exposed skin, except for her pale face, was covered in bandages partially moistened by a glossy, oily substance.

The dawn sunbeams illuminated her blonde hair, gathered at the nape. As soon as she saw Lance, she rose from her trance, smiled, and gestured for him to sit beside her. She smiled, and the boy decided to follow her request, sitting at a slight distance from her. Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

"Have you fully recovered?" He asked, staring at the sacred altar before them. Elise quickly opened and closed her fingers, smiling.

"My body is fine, but neither my memory nor the pangs in my heart have gone away. Your doctor was gentle in explaining everything to me. By now I'm no longer human." A dark veil wrapped the sunlit entrance, making Lance clench his fists.

"The same feeling struck me when I was taken from my old life and forced to silently carry on with the one I have now. I don't blame anyone. I think it just happened. NOIR is full of wonderful people. Even if you don't want to join, you're under their protection." Elise let out a small laugh as she stared at the intricate, spectacular ceiling.

"I thank you from the bottom of my heart, and I know you're good people… But I want to stay here." Elise looked him directly in the face with a relaxed expression. Her face was worn, slightly hollow, but she could still move her lips.

"You want to help the people of this city? Is that your wish?" Elise nodded, pointing at the door.

"I want to be able to protect all the people who knock. Perhaps this is a gift, something granted to me to do good." The moment he heard those words, Lance's eyes widened. Elise's voice grew distant and incomprehensible. A surge of rage crossed his throat and broke the conversation.

"No, Elise… It's not a gift." The girl stared at him, confused, tilting her head. Lance wasn't even looking at her; he simply kept his gaze fixed ahead toward the altar.

"How can you expect people like us to believe in your religion? We who are aberrations of that same benevolence you promote with a smile stamped on your lips." Lance stared at her, smiling, but somehow distant from the image of the kind boy that had taken hold in Elise.

"Do you know how much despair I've seen spread because of these 'gifts,' as you call them? I've seen innocent people and people I wanted to suffer like the damned, and often they were just people living normal lives. So tell me now… How can someone hand out an instrument of suffering with a smile on their face?" Elise looked down, slowly losing her good-natured air.

"Lance, you're absolutely right, but wouldn't the same apply to our freedom? Precisely because we're free to do what we want, we end up trampling others, taking what belongs to them and clipping their wings." Light filtered through the glass, colouring the altar with those multicoloured reflections of early morning. The boy looked at his smooth, soft hands, incapable of bearing witness to his life. He sighed, slowly shaking his head.

"No… You're the right one. I wouldn't have been any better than the people you describe if I'd imposed my view on you." Lance rose from the pew in total silence, taking a deep breath.

"It's a sword dangling over your head, almost as if it represents the weight of our freedom…" Lance smiled, holding out his hand to Elise to help her up. Gracefully, the nun pulled herself up, adjusting her vestments. She nodded with a smile, looking him in the face.

"Precisely because of that, I want to see it positively… As long as there are people like you who use this curse to save others, then I will see it as a gift." The wind whistled outside, cold and beating against the walls and stained glass. That strange reverberation began to synchronise with Elise's breath, accompanying her speech.

"Lance, precisely because I met you, I can call what you wield a Miracle and not a Curse, because I know you will use it to carry forward the freedom of others." She stroked Lachesi, hidden beneath the fabric. A shiver ran through him from the sole of his foot to his nape, and yet his smile didn't crack.

"So, Lance… Thank you so much for saving me." Two single tears fell onto her cheeks, staining the edges of her smile. Lance felt a wave of heat rise to his face, yet he reciprocated, tilting his head.

"Elise, thank you so much for believing in me." The nun stretched her arms toward him, turning her face slightly. Lance stared at her, confused, glancing around several times.

"It's a hug! I have to show gratitude, don't I?" The moment Lance heard those words, he stepped back, immediately followed by the nun's advance.

"L-Look, there's no need, Elise. You don't owe me anything…" He didn't have time to speak before her arms seized him and held him close. The air was squeezed from his lungs, from behind and from the front. He turned white before Elise realised, and she let him go, laughing with a few apologies.

"I think it's time for you to go… I sense strange presences outside the main door, and one is strangely grim." Lance smiled, arranging the hair on his forehead.

"You'll get used to it sooner or later. Not all Meta perceive Frequency precisely from what I know. If you want advice, don't be afraid to look at what appears before you. You'll learn to accept it." Lance smiled, waving to her as he walked down the nave.

"Lance! You'll come back to visit me, won't you?" He saw her slightly bent, hands resting on her knees from exhaustion. Lance answered by raising his thumb and smiling, narrowing his eyes as usual. Elise laughed, nodding. The boy resumed walking, relaxing at the sound of his echoing steps. He passed a space now filled with marble. A chill cut through him brutally, petrifying him. A single glance at that shape and his body dripped with icy sweat.

"Elise… Is this the statue that was missing?" Lance asked distantly, making her turn in confusion. She peeked out from the columns, smiling blissfully.

"Yes, it's a statue Abbondius had taken away for matters concerning the sacred texts. It's only a grotesque parody, but I like it." Lance nodded, smiling as he headed to the door. That statue, so perfect, with its face hidden by rocky tentacles, was identical to the one that had once haunted his mind. The events of Arden Ring flooded his brain, but they were only background, sparks expelled from a much larger blaze. He glanced quickly behind him to make sure he hadn't misread." Eifibes …"

Those were the words carved on the sculpture's pedestal. The name of a goddess carved above the very silhouette that had besieged him. He shook his head, trying to drive away that horrid feeling.

"That can't be right..." His thoughts assembled and shattered dozens of times, unable to stop until the heavy wood opened and light struck his face. A cold, delicate gust, tasting of the ocean, comforted him as he clearly saw the figures of his companions.

"Malcolm showed up together with that woman?" Maverick stubbed out his cigarette on a small iron saucer, his face lined with wrinkles and furrowed brows.

"He was somehow aware of Lance. Maybe she's the one responsible for the incursions and kidnappings. Honestly, Changeant is the worst case I've worked on in the last decade." Maverick placed the saucer on the car's bonnet, smiling at Maliard.

"You're starting to talk like Edvard and Lucas. Maybe old age is playing tricks on you too." Maliard waved away his words, turning toward Lance. To his right was Jeanne, motionless, staring at a small greenish bird atop one of the lampposts. Maliard sighed, placing a hand on Lance's shoulder, offering a smile.

"Excellent work. Keep those words in mind." Lance returned the gesture, smiling like a child. Maliard emitted some strange guttural sounds, staring at him.

"I will!" Jeanne saw them frozen, each with a hand on the other's shoulder. She smiled at Lance, then called him over with a very quick wave of her hand. They separated, with Maverick snickering behind his glove.

"I'm sorry I didn't do anything for yesterday, Maverick. We could have…" Lance covered his forehead with his fingers, struck by a tiny pebble.

"Don't be silly. You've already done too much. Even if you'd stayed lucid to face him, we wouldn't have had a single chance. The limits of his power are still unfathomable as far as I'm concerned." Lance nodded silently, moving closer to Jeanne. He brought his lips to her ear, hiding them with his hand.

"Did something happen with Elise? You seem rather stiff." Lance sighed, nodding faintly. Jeanne smiled at him without saying a single word.

"That woman who got sedated is fine, if that reassures you. Lucas visited her along with you and Elise. She's resting in her room and won't wake before tomorrow morning, unfortunately, but she'll have no repercussions." Lance breathed a sigh of relief, adjusting his clothes and smiling. The bird chirped a couple of times, drawing Jeanne's attention again.

"It must be nice for them here. Cars can't pass freely, and the whole boulevard has no trams." Lance smiled, catching her attention. She pointed at him with a trembling finger. The boy stared at her, confused, watching with her the small mass of emerald feathers. It hopped a couple of times on the metal before flying away.

"It's a Green Globe. They're unique to the archipelago and a protected species. They stay like that their whole lives, extraordinarily long for a bird, and die in the nest with their mate. Seeing them brings a lot of luck, they say…" Jeanne and Maliard stared at him, confused and amazed at the same time.

"What? Do I have something on me?" Maliard cleared his throat with a cough, while Jeanne stared at him, enraptured.

"Lance… We have almost a century of difference, and I don't know these things. I can overlook that you know how to drive a car without ever having attempted a licence, but how does a courier know all these things?" Lance scratched his head, smiling.

"I found time to read between one delivery and another, and then it's also a matter of experience. I can never forget that time I passed out in Sector II because of a mushroom…" Before Maliard could open his mouth, his watch vibrated. He read the message in silence, clearing his throat again.

"There are delays with the maintenance of the Diem. We'll have to stay here until early afternoon. Round will pick us up at the entrance to the Boulevard." Maverick coughed, pointing at Lance with his index finger.

"Since we have free time, why don't you two go rest? After all, the credit is all yours! I hope you haven't spent all your pay." Jeanne smiled as soon as Maliard nodded, grabbing Maverick by the shoulder to load him into the car.

"Have fun… You magnet." Maliard smiled mischievously at them, watching the blushing Lance being dragged away by Jeanne.

"Do you have any plans?" Lance asked, trying to keep up with her relentless pace. Jeanne turned toward him, dodging the crowd. Her hair covered her face, revealing only a small portion of her blue eyes.

"I've never been here, so as long as I'm with you, plans can take a back seat." Lance felt another tug at his chest, ignored it, and smiled blissfully. He closed his eyes and let himself be guided until he felt his backside hit the street.

"Excuse me, I'm terribly sorry." When he reopened his eyes, he saw Jeanne apologising with several bows, while the man held out his hands to her, reciprocating the apology.

"Are you all right?" He held out a hand, the one with the pommel of his walking stick, to him. They were similar in height, but the man was very thin and slender despite his youthful face. He had two beautiful emerald eyes, almost noble, and a sharp, thin nose. Black locks covered his broad forehead, matching the thin beard covering his chin. When their gazes met, he smiled faintly.

"Yes, of course. Forgive me. I didn't mean to ruin your suit…" The man smoothed the folds of his dark green jacket with square gold buttons. He dusted his shoulders with the orange handkerchief from his breast pocket. His suit was perfect, fully coordinated and perfectly fitted to his body. He smiled, folding the fabric quickly and returning it to its place.

"This is just cut fabric. It has no value compared to health." The man smiled, bowing as he lifted his top hat, revealing the long hair at his nape. He continued to smile at Lance, kindly and with a veil of nostalgia on his thin, pale lips.

"I hope to meet you again, young man." A strange sensation ran through the boy the moment the man stroked his shoulder. He felt the icy embrace of death as time around him seemed to stop for a single second. When it was over, the man had vanished. In his ears, a strange ticking sound, like the world had become a static clock.

"Who was that man? He seemed to know you." Jeanne asked, looking toward the alley beyond his shoulders. Lance shook his head, staring into the void behind him, now filled with numerous children and elderly people strolling on the festive day.

"No… But it doesn't matter. It's just tiredness." He moved closer to Jeanne and smiled, walking toward the horizon painted by the sea.

"You know there are dozens of typical specialities from Termìe and Andimica here! I say we try them while we're in time." Jeanne grabbed him as he nodded, dragging him along again.

"B-Be careful!" From afar, those words dissipated in the sound of the crowd, picked up by the gentleman in green, now seated on the chair of an old balcony. Behind him, the house was empty, its bronze padlock carefully sealed. He smiled, taking a cigarette from the silver case and savouring the smoke.

"So he would be your heir? Or perhaps your new form. Either way, I'm glad to see you well… Lance Klint." A thin ring of smoke rose from his mouth, followed by a delighted sigh.

"I hope you haven't completely forgotten our goal… Another world must not rot." The padlock began to open, but before the children could swarm the house with their gifts and the mother put away the shopping, the man had vanished. The only trace of him: a regal ticking in the air.