Elias closed his eyes, retreating into the sanctuary of his Spirit Domain. The familiar, formless void of his inner world welcomed him with a profound silence that was more comforting than any sound. He reached out with his mind, calling to the Jade Fang. It wasn't the physical blade, which rested beside him on the bed, its polished silver catching the faint moonlight that filtered through the window. Instead, he called to its essence—its memory, its soul, the very blueprint of its existence. A perfect, glowing construct of pure Flow materialized in his hand, a spectral copy of the dagger that hummed with a quiet power. Here, in this inner world, he was the sole arbiter, and the blade, a weapon of raw power in the physical world, was nothing more than a tool awaiting his command.
He extended his Flow Perception, a subtle mental faculty he was only just beginning to master, pouring his entire consciousness into the dagger's ethereal form. He immediately spotted the blade's Anti-Flow signature—the three-armed spiral of its Existential Class— as expanded before him, filling his vision. He walked around the projection, studying it. This time, he saw more than just the symbol. He saw the structure of the power itself, akin to a complex network of logic and programming. The Anti-Flow was a system, a set of instructions. The flow circulating through it moved through its class signature and resembled the intricate, branching tributaries of a river, each smaller branch flowing into another, ending in a series of rapidly rotating, anti-clockwise rings. These, he realized with a jolt of exhilaration that sent a ripple through his incorporeal form, were the programs for the dagger's unique function—its Characteristics.
A new thought took root in his mind, wild and audacious, a spark of inspiration in the boundless darkness of his Domain.
Could he, using his own nascent Flow Programming, reprogram these characteristics?
He knew the theory was sound. He could, in principle, alter the dagger's function, either to empower it further or to give it an entirely different and completely unique characteristic. The possibilities were endless, a veritable ocean of potential lying before him. He could imbue it with the power to cut through gravity, to phase through solid objects, or to generate fields of pure energy. The thought of shaping such a powerful artifact to his will was intoxicating.
But the task was Herculean. His Flow Programming was in its nascent stages—a crude and unrefined skill. To reprogram an artifact of Grade 5. To reprogram an artifact would require a near-absolute understanding of its internal logic and a mastery of Flow far beyond his current grasp in the first place. He would have to delve deep into the mechanics of Flow, Anti-Flow, and the very nature of the Trait Classes themselves. It would be a journey that could take years, even decades. He was a child of four, a fledgling in a world of titans, and this was a task for a master.
As he contemplated this daunting path, another, darker thought from the previous night resurfaced. When Aina had first told him about the dagger, he had seen it as the perfect tool to end his life on this Earth. He could simply turn the blade on himself, and with its ability to drain Flow, it would be over. But he had not done it, and there were several weighty reasons for his hesitation.
First, as he was now, he was still too small a being to face the entity that was Deus. He was a child, a pawn in a cosmic game far beyond his comprehension. To end his life now would be to admit defeat, to concede victory to the very force that had trapped him in this existence, leaving him unable to stand against him. It would be a final surrender to a fate he was not yet ready to accept. He had to grow, to become strong enough.
Second, he suspected that Deus, in his cosmic arrogance, would have put failsafes in place to prevent him from taking his own life so easily. There was no such thing as true immortality, not now that he knew there were people and creatures out there who could shatter the soul, an entity which was meant to be eternal. The nature of his immortality was still a profound mystery to him, a complex puzzle with missing pieces. He had no doubt that any attempt to end it would be met with swift and brutal resistance, a metaphysical backlash.
The third reason also stemmed from the fact that he didn't fully understand his own immortality. Any attempt to kill himself without a complete understanding of its mechanics would be a fool's errand. It would be like trying to solve a complex equation without knowing the variables, a blind leap into the unknown. The outcome would most likely be excruciating pain, a price he was not willing to pay. He needed to study it, to dissect it, to understand its intricacies before he attempted anything so drastic. He had to be sure, absolutely certain, that he could succeed before he made his move.
Finally, he couldn't stop thinking about his new parents—their worry, their care, and the love he had so fiercely rejected in his past life. Their presence in his life, their very existence, had given him a reason to pause. He saw the love in their eyes, the concern etched on their faces. He couldn't just abandon them, not yet. If anything, he had to stay with them and play the role of a good son a little longer, perhaps until they had another child. He owed them that much, a small repayment for the love they had so freely given.
He shrank the projection of the dagger back to its normal size, the spectral form of the blade flickering and then dematerializing. He looked around at his Domain, a vast, empty canvas of his own making, then willed himself back into the real world. His mind returned to his body, the sensation of gravity and solid matter returning with a jolt. He opened his eyes, blinking at the comforting darkness of his room. He reached lifted up the real Jade Fang, and carefully slid it back into its sheath.
He muttered to himself, his voice a soft whisper in the quiet room.
"If the blade is to kill me, then it should be of a higher grade. If not the highest, then it should be one that can at least resist whatever failsafes Deus has put in place, if not negate them completely."
He let out a deep sigh, a soft, weary sound that was far too old for a child of four. He thought about his Rite of Passage, the training that awaited him at dawn.
'I wonder what kind of training it will be though?'
Various scenarios, some fantastical, some mundane but all intense, flashed across his mind. He pushed all the unnecessary thoughts out and turned to lie on his side, deciding to think about it all tomorrow.
He was just a small boy, and for now, that was enough.