The study smelled faintly of parchment and burning incense. Golden light from a half-shuttered window spilled across the desk, illuminating a stack of ancient scrolls.
Sir Benson leaned back in his high-backed chair, hands clasped, eyes locked on Kaison with the kind of gaze that seemed to weigh a man's soul.
"Do you know," Benson began, voice calm but deliberate, "that there are seven types of seals in this world?"
Kaison nodded. "Yes."
A faint smile touched Benson's lips. "Good. Then we don't need to waste time with the basics."
He straightened, his tone shifting into the measured cadence of a lecturer.
"There are **seven**—Creation, Destruction, Spirits, Beasts, Dragons, Wisdom, and Requiem. Each carries its own law of power.
Creation—" He tapped the desk with a knuckle. "—allows you to bring things into existence. Take the Seal of Mystic Swords, for example. It grants you the ability to summon nine ethereal blades, beginning with one and increasing as you grow in strength.
Destruction… is its opposite. It gives the power to erase, to unmake. These are the deadliest in pure offense. Some destruction seals grant a weapon—singular—but with phases of awakening that make it far deadlier with each evolution.
Wisdom… I think you can guess. Knowledge, insight, mastery of a chosen subject. Every bearer of Wisdom Seals gains psychokinesis. They wield both the mind and its invisible force.
Spirit Seals… they are tied to the essence of spirituality. Beasts Seals… grant the strength, instincts, and often the form of a beast.
Dragon Seals…" His eyes softened, almost reverent. "…are rare. They grant the might of dragons—immense strength, unyielding bodies, and sometimes dominion over an element itself.
But—" Benson's tone dropped, becoming almost a whisper, "—Requiem Seals… are rarer still. Mysterious. They allow one to command anything within the domain of their seal… and even refine or upgrade it. That," he said, leaning forward, "is why I'm so interested in yours. A Requiem Seal… that also falls under Creation. And it has not chosen a wielder in two hundred years."
Kaison met his gaze, his own voice steady. "I understand, sir."
But inside—
*\[So… the origin of these seals is still unknown. Seven types… yet the ones with the most important knowledge are wrapped in mystery. Always the useful things, hidden.]*
Kaison's mind wandered briefly. *\[Sir Benson… two hundred years old. The same period when the original Diary was being translated. Could he know about Gachigakade? No… impossible. If he did, he'd be dead. Still… I can at least ask about the diary.]*
He cleared his throat. "Sir… were you involved in the translation of *The Diary of the Revolutionary*?"
Benson's expression froze. "Where did you hear about that?"
"My friend told me."
"Was his grandfather a scholar?"
"Yes."
"I can't tell you about it."
"But why?"
"Because," Benson said, his voice low and firm, "it's better not to speak of it."
"But I already know something about it," Kaison pressed. "Please… tell me."
"No," Benson said sharply. "No means no."
Kaison's jaw tightened. "Sir, I've read the old revision myself. I even translated the last page. And… I know about Gac—"
"Shut up!" Benson slammed his palm against the desk, eyes wide. "Don't say that word!"
Kaison blinked. "So you *do* know it."
Benson stared at him for a long moment before leaning in. His voice was barely above a whisper. "Likewise. I'll tell you… but you must promise—*never* speak of it again. To anyone."
"I promise."
"To be exact," Benson began, "I was not the one translating it—my master was. Just before completing his work, he died. His health was poor, yes, but not poor enough for it to happen so suddenly.
After the funeral, I visited his study. He had left me a message. In it, he told me to deliver the translated pages to the royal family. And—if I ever heard the word you were about to speak—never to utter it, because *He* is watching… even in our dreams."
Benson's eyes clouded as he continued. "Days later, news came of other scholars working on the diary. They too had died—suddenly. I searched their studies and gathered their notes. They had all translated the diary to the same point my master had… but nothing beyond.
When I saw this, I burned the last pages—the ones that held the truth—and told the royals the diary was fully translated. Better the world forget… than fall into his gaze but the truth was revealed that the last page was untranslated but no one bothered about it so it was never spoken again ."
Kaison's thoughts swirled, a cold weight settling in his chest.
*\[I can't even imagine how dangerous *He* must be…]*
*\[I'll have to restrain myself from speaking that word ever again.]*
to be continued