Nathaniel's Point of View**
A day passed, and the trials began, drawing all participants into a grueling study regimen. We were given three weeks to review Eskapa's rules, laws, and training protocols, armed with three books on its history, regions, and leadership. Each day, after studying a book, we faced a test.
The material was straightforward—memorization was key—but I struggled. Though the language matched mine, some words twisted my tongue and taxed my memory. I sat quietly in the training facility beside the dorm, poring over the pages, grateful Ataparag had granted me use of the study room.
My body ached from sitting, so I stretched, my gaze drifting to Ataparag as she chatted with her team. Even among them, her warmth shone through—her smiles constant, her troops clearly adoring her. A pang of unease hit me, recalling Nyabu's words about her mission with Toto.
Ten years ago, Sei assigned them to watch Ataparag, tied to the crucial Crimson Item she carried—a treasure that couldn't fall into others' hands. Beyond that lay a pact between Sei and Ataparag: in exchange for the item, she vowed never to eat humans or other beings again. Breaking it meant death, an unbreakable oath.
Perhaps Sei hadn't fully trusted Ataparag to resist temptation, crafting the pact as a safeguard. Ten years was a long stretch—surely her craving for human flesh had faded. But what if she succumbed? Would Toto and Nyabu kill her? I couldn't imagine it, not when their love for her was so evident.
Ataparag caught me staring and flashed a radiant smile, waving. Her beauty and warmth enveloped me. She approached, inviting me to step outside the dorm with her to explore and grab a meal.
I couldn't refuse. "Of course, who'd say no to a date with our stunning leader?" I teased.
"D-date? Mister Nathaniel, soldiers of Galica can't date on duty!" she stammered, blushing.
"Hahaha, I know, just joking, Miss Ataparag. I'll pretend my gorgeous leader agreed to a date with me," I quipped.
"I didn't know you were so cheeky, Mister Nathaniel, but maybe we could date sometime," she said, then yanked me quiet, fearing Nyabu's wrath if overheard. She admitted Nyabu disliked me, and she dreaded losing her favor.
"But I'd only agree to a date if you pass the trials. If you fail, you'll be out of the team, and we won't get to eat out. So, do your best!" she encouraged.
"Of course, I'll do anything for that date!" I shouted.
She pulled me again, muffling my mouth. "Mister Nathaniel, keep it down!"
Truthfully, her willingness to join me thrilled me, though I knew her kindness, not affection, drove it. A mere human with nothing, I stood beneath a respected general—yet I craved this rare moment of connection.
Hours later, I accompanied her on patrols, checking her team's posts. We spent six hours outside, resting at eateries to review. Chatting with Ataparag was a joy—her tales of missions beyond the town never waned.
By routine, at 2 p.m., we trained in the dorm's facility. Though combat and weapons daunted me, she patiently taught me, preparing me for any threat.
That night, back in my room, I retired early to rest—tomorrow's first test loomed, and tardiness wasn't an option. Lying awake, staring at the ceiling, something soft plopped onto my face, jolting me upright. I swatted it off, grasping a fuzzy creature—Melon.
"Geez, just you!" I exclaimed. "Why do you always vanish and pop up like this?" I grumbled.
He'd been absent yesterday, despite Ataparag mentioning Koko's delivery. Her words about Melon's potential aid echoed. "Oh right, she said you have powers. What can I gain from you?" I mused.
Clueless about his abilities and skeptical of Koko's gifts, I held him, feeling his plushness. Suddenly, he spoke. "I can do much for you," he said.
Stunned, I froze for ten seconds, wondering if I'd imagined it. "Wait, did you just talk?" I asked.
"Yes, me. I can communicate mind-to-mind," he replied.
Astonished, I marveled at this talking creature. He reintroduced himself as my partner, Melon, created to aid my mission. His telepathic skill was both awe-inspiring and eerie.
"But if you have powers I can use, what kind?" I pressed.
"I was made with the Power of Creation, wielded by the Alphabet Koko, granting me a Celestial-level ability," he explained.
Curious about "Celestial," he elaborated. Three main types existed in the cosmos: the Origin, the Great Creator who birthed all universes with millions of galaxies; the Prime Celestials, ten beings guarding those galaxies; and the Celestials, rulers of the Creator's kingdom. Genionva, created by Prime Celestials, oversaw planets, while angels, made by Celestials, served the Great Creator—all wielding divine energy, including Koko.
The hierarchy baffled me, especially where Alphabets like Koko fit, directly forged by the Creator. "That's complicated—let's focus on what you can do," I said.
He listed three powers from the Power of Creation. First, the ability to create anything from nothing, like a god crafting material objects. But Koko imposed a condition: he could only manifest things from my memories—items I'd seen, touched, heard, or felt.
"Like this," he said. Instantly, a manga book I once owned on Earth materialized.
"Wow, one of my favorites—you can create from nothing!" I gasped.
Next, he described the Great Sage power, used by Celestials to access all knowledge of a world, mirroring Koko's omniscience across time and place. Melon could answer questions about this realm. "Wow, you're like a living encyclopedia," I joked.
Finally, the Last Wish— a Celestial power to fulfill one request per being, excluding reviving, killing, or altering worlds. "Anything I want?" I asked.
"Exactly, but choose wisely—it's a one-time deal," he cautioned.
Amazed by these Celestial-tier abilities, my excitement dimmed as he revealed Koko's limitations. She'd conditioned them for "excitement," preventing abuse. "What else from her?" I sighed.
He outlined the restriction: five uses per day, resetting at midnight. Any power—creation, knowledge, or wish—capped at five activations. I wondered how this affected his utility, but even though it was limited, his power felt immense. "Five times? That's still a huge help—better than nothing," I said.
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