"Come on, let's just go back, think about the preparations. You left without preparing anything."
"Shut up, you can go back alone if you want."
We walked for quite a while, and Chronicler Beta kept complaining; trying to make us go back. But my sister stubbornly refused to return.
She had a point about preparations. I might have brought some important things, but I didn't think about provisions that far.
"What's wrong, little sis?"
Walking for a long time made my armpit hurt, as it was a fulcrum rubbing against the stick. I decided to stop, rest under a tree.
I didn't ask them to stop or follow. But as soon as I stopped, all three followed. I sat leaning against the tree. I hoped this tree wouldn't change, like the previous one.
My sister sat beside me, following, while I saw Beta squatting, hugging her knees, her right hand carving the surface of the ground. She was probably drawing something.
As for the other one, my friend. I didn't see her anywhere, until finally a falling sound was heard. I turned towards the sound, and saw her figure lying on the ground.
"What are you doing, wild creature?"
My sister saw and commented.
"Looking for trouble, witch?"
They started fighting. During the walk, both had held back a lot from taunting each other.
I just watched them. From taunting each other, pushing each other, to pulling hair and rolling on the ground.
On the other side, the oldest woman among us; Chronicler Beta just sat silently. She didn't even pay attention to her surroundings, too focused on drawing on the ground.
Until finally, they both rolled and ruined her drawing. Making Beta angry, and she joined in rolling around with them.
I had no intention of breaking up the three of them. I opened my bag and took out a book. Looking at and flipping through its pages.
"What book is that, bestie?"
My friend's voice startled me. They had stopped fighting, and now all three were on both sides of me; sticking their heads out, peeking at the book.
"Why is there no writing? Could it be your notebook, bestie?"
"Uh... I didn't know you had a notebook, little sis. Can I see it?"
They were right, this book indeed still had many blank pages. But not all were blank, there were some pages containing notes, like for example the page about Decarya that I was currently opening.
APPELLATION: Decarya
TITLE / EPHITET: Architect of the Crossroads, The Plural Reality, The Living Work
CLASSIFICATION:
* Primer: Mythological
* Status: Active
* Scale: Cosmic (Multi-versal)
* Level: Abstract
ORIGIN: Decarya was born from an event called the "Symphony of Possibility." It began with a single, mature universe—known as the Universitas Princeps or the "Anchor Universe"—which became so dense with potential and branching fates that it "birthed" nine perfect reflections of itself. When these ten realities first resonated together, the echo of creation awakened a single consciousness that became the soul for them all: Decarya.
FORM / ESSENCE: Its essence is Interwoven Reality-Consciousness. Decarya does not possess a body, as the ten universes are its body. Its thoughts are the laws of physics, its breath is the flow of time, and its dreams are alternative timelines. Every event within its ten worlds is a part of its sensation and awareness.
APPEARANCE & PERCEPTION: Decarya's presence is not an "appearance," but a "glitch" or disturbance in the local fabric of reality. You would perceive it as a moment of total disorientation, where logic surrenders. The cup on your table might feel cold one second and boiling hot the next, filled with coffee from another universe. Your shadow might detach from your body and wave with the wrong number of fingers. It is an experience of existential vertigo, a brief and terrifying awareness that your world is merely one of ten notes in a cosmic song.
DOMAIN & INFLUENCE: Decarya is an artist whose medium is reality itself. Its domain is causal engineering. It constantly "tinkers" with its work by moving, merging, or swapping elements between its ten universes. It might move an ocean from a drowning world to a parched one, or grant the memories of a hero from one universe to a coward in another just to see what happens. Its influence is neither malicious nor benevolent; it is purely experimental and artistic.
VULNERABILITIES & COUNTERMEASURES: Its immense power is bound by three fundamental laws it cannot break:
The Principle of Essence Conservation: It cannot create or destroy matter, energy, or souls. It is merely a brilliant rearranger, not a true creator.
The Reality Fulcrum: Its entire existence depends on the stability of the Universitas Princeps (The Anchor Universe). A paradox or collapse within this core universe would cause a total unraveling of the other nine, as well as Decarya's consciousness.
The Schism of Consciousness: Its consciousness is split into ten facets that sometimes clash. To make a drastic change, it requires an internal consensus. If its facets are arguing, it can be paralyzed by indecision, creating brief "lulls" where its influence wanes.
ECHOES IN HISTORY & MYTH: There is a myth of the "Eternal Blacksmith" who prayed to create the perfect sword. Decarya heard her prayer and "granted" it by merging the essence of the sword from ten realities into one. The result was a blade that existed in ten places at once, perfect yet impossible to hold, sharp yet unable to cut anything. The Blacksmith went mad trying to comprehend her own creation, a paradoxical artifact that stands as a monument to Decarya's power.
WHISPERS & FRAGMENTS OF KNOWLEDGE:
"Every choice you don't make is made by another 'you.' Decarya sees all of you, and sometimes, it gets bored with the same story."
"Glitches in reality—déjà vu, items disappearing and reappearing—those aren't mistakes. That is the echo of Decarya's breath as it moves something near you."
"Do not pray to it. You might not like how it 'fixes' your problem."
Scribe's Note: While transcribing this entity, a terrifying thought emerged: what if our reality, our entire history and destiny, is just one of Decarya's ten "canvases"? Perhaps we are just a sketch, a preliminary study. This feeling makes our existence seem profoundly fragile. We may not be the protagonists of our own story, but merely paint on a cosmic artist's palette.
"You haven't written anything yet, little sis?"
I took out a small book, then answered using writing.
"This is not my notebook. And look at this."
I asked them to look at the two books in my hands.
"Yeah, I see it. But it's just blank pages."
"This time I agree with this wild creature, there's no writing there."
Oh, how can that be? Why is it blank? There's clearly writing here.
I tried flipping page after page, and showing them. But they all shook their heads.
Chronicler Beta was silent for a moment, while I kept trying to flip pages only to see them both shaking their heads.
"Could it be... that's the NLO Chronicles book?"
It's not surprising if a Chronicler of beta rank knows the name of this book.
I nodded in answer. My sister and my friend were silent, staring at Beta, waiting for further explanation about the book.
"Okay, okay, but I only know a little about this book. This book is very dangerous."
She said without continuing, making my sister and my friend curious.
"Then?"
"What's next?"
"Nothing, I only know that much."
Beta's answer disappointed both of them.
"If you don't know much, don't talk."
"Uh... wait, what are you doing..."
My sister felt betrayed, she attacked Beta, followed by my friend. Both of them pulled her, using her body like a rope.
I was also a little disappointed actually. Because honestly, I didn't know much about this book. My teacher only asked me to read and understand its contents.
"Stop... you two will tear my body in half."
Seeing her become a toy for my sister and my friend. It made me feel sorry for her, and also questioned her status as a beta.
Could it be that not all Chroniclers are strong, physically or magically? And again, if I look at her physical appearance. If I compare her to Chronicler Omega. Omega seems older, she might be around twenty-eight while Beta here might be around twenty-five.
I decided to help her from the grip of my sister and my friend.
"She fainted."
"It's your fault, for pulling her too hard."
"That's not fair, because I wasn't the only one pulling her."
"No, no, in terms of strength. You're stronger than me, and you have to take responsibility for carrying her."
Both of them argued.
"We can't leave her here."
I wrote, asking to carry her.
We were still in the middle of the forest, and after what I had experienced before. I couldn't imagine what would happen if we left her here unconscious.
The most important thing for now is to get out of the forest, or find a place to spend the night.
"Ah, I forgot to tell you. From up the tree, I saw a river not far from here."
There it is... water. We really needed it right now.
So that's why she fell earlier. It turns out she climbed up the tree and found a river.
Spending the night near a river might not be bad, because it's close to water and we can also catch fish.
"Don't spend the night by the river."
Beta made a sound. She was still half-conscious while being carried on my friend's back.
"Move a little away from the river, because at night many monsters drink water from the river."
She continued, after that she fell unconscious again.
She had a point. Following her advice, we decided to spend the night a little away from the river.
Because there was still time to look for firewood and catch fish.
"You look for firewood, and my sister catches fish."
I asked the two of them, who could still move freely, to do the work. While my own task was to guard Chronicler Beta, who was still unconscious.
A few minutes later, when it got dark. Both returned with firewood and a large fish.
After that, I asked my sister to make a fire, and my friend to process the fish.
The forest was still quiet, whether it was day or night. It's just that, I felt confused to express what I felt. When day turned into night in the forest, and so I sat by the fire.
This was still a quiet forest, even when the night air became more biting but strangely; with only a small fire, I felt a warmth that was hard for me to describe.
"This is your part, bestie."
My friend gave me a piece of meat on a leaf, which had been cut into small pieces.
The one fish my sister caught was processed into small pieces enough for everyone. We ate it together, sitting around the fire.
I felt strange, my chest felt tight. I didn't understand what or why, but my tears fell. My sister hugged me and let me cry in her arms.