In the beginning, motion was not natural.
Helios, Luna and Nyx were the only three true gods. Sola, the Sun God of heaven. Umbra, the god of darkness in hell. And Luna, the goddess of the moon, life and the overseer of the three realms.
Luna carved a flute. It's said that even if the best practitioner and player of instruments were to play that flute, they wouldn't be able to produce a harmony from it.
It was a flute forged out of Luna's flesh and blood. The decorative charm that hung at the end was the long strands of her hair. The golden threads that seeped into the white wooden flesh pipe of that flute were the threads of her clothes.
Her flute commanded the space itself. And was known to possess its own will.
But her children, the lesser gods, started fearing the flute. Luna was hurt by their sentiment. She shattered her flute into sixteen fragments and perished alongside it.
Then the covenant motion replaced the flute.
Heaven and Hell waged a war to have the fragments of the flute in their possession.
As centuries passed, the fragments were getting difficult to find. But the war showed no signs of a truce.
At some point, no one could say why the war continued. Only that it must. Fragments no longer mattered strategically.
But hatred had accumulated weight. Entire generations were born knowing only that the other side was never supposed to exist.
Heaven fights because stopping means the gods accept their failure in judgment.
Hell, fights because stopping means admitting Hell was unnecessary.
And among all this, the only realm that was ignored was the Mortal Realm. Because Heaven values order, predictability and doctrine, Mortals were chaotic, inconsistent, and self-contradicting. Hell values endurance, persistence and corruption; Mortals were weak, short-lived and easily erased.
"In short… the war itself was and will remain meaningless", Orochi said. "So, the simple answer to your question would be… war still exists, and the situation will stay like that, because Demons and Gods are no longer enemies of purpose."
He placed the tea cup on the table and continued. "But I'm afraid that I can't speak the names of the houses of the demon realm and the domains of heaven, for that would reveal my coordinates,"
"But…" He leaned back and placed his hands on the armrest. "I must say that I had my hopes quite high when you requested information."
"You could've asked for an artefact, maybe the remnants of a transcendent, some legacy techniques left in a dungeon," Orochi continued.
"The way you know of me, I thought this kind of information would be… general knowledge for you", he said.
"I wasn't seeking information to learn about the status of war; it was just for confirmation," I replied, looking at the empty cup in my hands.
It might've been the best tea I've ever had in my life of two days.
"Confirmation?" Orochi asked, squinting his brows.
"No, I just had a dream. And then my instincts brought me here." I replied.
"…" Orochi had no words. He looked at me like I was some kind of psychopath.
Well, for one. The mortal realm isn't even aware of the war going on for ages.
And all the demons that they've encountered, even the S-grade classified demons, are all just lesser-ranked demons.
The people of this world aren't even aware that the gods they worship are just post-mortem remnants.
Moreover, Orochi is a legendary figure even among heaven and hell. Talking to him as if he's a mere information broker might have needed balls of diamond if I hadn't experienced death once.
But for some reason, his oppressive aura and that overwhelming presence weren't affecting me at all.
And I could feel his eyes had started to look at me like I was some plaything he's acquired.
I didn't like that.
"Very well… Did your 'Dream' also show you something that might come in handy for me?" He asked.
"I believe my 'dreams". They're showing me a purpose," I said, exaggerating the word dreams. Because he and I both know the dream talk is all shit.
"And I'm willing to follow the path to achieve that purpose. So, my 'Dreams' will come often. And they'll certainly hold value for you if you were to take my side." I spoke.
"Are you suggesting that I take the side of a mere mortal whose lifespan is rather… short?" He asked.
"A transcendent can live for more than five hundred years," I replied.
"Your talent is certainly impressive, but it's still not impressive enough for your dreams," He spoke.
'What's this…' I felt infuriated by that comment. Was this because of the body of the prince?
Whatever it was, I didn't like it.
"I'm not someone who wastes time chasing illusions," I spoke. Somehow, my tone wasn't casual anymore.
"You don't have to answer me right now, take your time to decide," I said.
"Maybe you'd have a change of mind once you visit the north," I continued, standing up. "You'd see a shrine there. A lone shrine surrounded by five mountain peaks. Locals don't know of that shrine, but there's someone who might be waiting for you there."
He looked at me, squinting his brows. Bastard was angry. His killing intent was seeping all over the tavern.
But it didn't affect me.
"As for me…" I said, opening the door, "You know where to find me."
**Thud**
The door behind me closed with a deafening thud due to the force of his intent.
'Gotta work on my temper,' I self-noted.
Back on the ground floor, I glanced around, and the whole tavern was empty. Bartenders and maids had already fainted on the floor, and Bart was all drenched in sweat.
Oddly, I could hear his heart beating against his chest. His eyes filled with fear as he looked up at me.
"M-my Lord!" He called out, barely above a whisper.
"?" I looked around. I was a little confused. I know the intent was strong, but it was certainly not enough to make people faint and crush a Tier seven Ascended and make him feel fear.
"Who did you… ev-even meet up there?" Bart asked.
"No!..." He continued. "Forgive me, I forgot I couldn't question your actions,"
'Is that so?' I thought.
"Shall we?" I gestured at the door. I had to return to the office, too.
.-.-.-.-.-.
Bart didn't say a word throughout our journey back to the Academy.
Fear aside, he was too focused on maintaining his composure. He was drunk, but conscious.
I sighed and leaned on the desk inside Ymir's office.
The more I see it, the more I observe it… I just couldn't stop myself from being amazed.
'This guy definitely had some fine vibe,' I thought as I looked around. Black-cherry wood flooring, black book shelves with dairies racked to perfection. Yes, Diaries.
And no, Ymir didn't write in them. He just loved collecting diaries.
I turned around and walked towards the window, leaning on it. The sun had set.
And I could hear the sound of cats meowing in a silent garden. I guess there were kittens here in the academy.
Ymir's office was in the building of the headmaster. And behind it was just a peaceful garden, which anyone barely visited.
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes.
I'm not a good guy. I don't have that motive to save the world, but if I stay like this… death will be inevitable.
Ymir wasn't just a character, but a political tool for the Lunar Kingdom.
As a boy who was favoured by Goddess Luna, he was signified as the warrior of Luna.
It's not just women who receive god's blessings in this world; men do too. The only difference is that women become the saintesses, and men turn into warriors.
But it's been ages since a boy was blessed by Luna.
Things get more complicated when the Queen, who wants to snatch a Saintess from the church, decides to betroth her youngest child to the Saintess.
So now, there are people who want to free the Saintess, some who want to remove Ymir, some who want to control him, and some who want to replace him.
And all of them believe they are correct.
'Life's giving me way too many lemons for my lemonade…' I sighed.
The worst is that I don't have any memories of Ymir. I don't know how to use his powers, because this is not a game where I can click a 'Q' to block, or use '1,2,3,4,5' for special moves.
I can't just find a scripture; click the 'Learn' toggle button to have that skill added to my arsenal. And I didn't have any system like those in the novels. And I wasn't even a martial artist to begin with.
'But…' I wasn't completely clueless.
I've experimented with Ymir on my localhost long enough to know what the most lethal power he can have is.
And the one that I came up with was that…' Perception.'
I recommended that system to the team, but my idea was outright rejected. Not because it was useless. But because it was too much. And what I suggested was logically possible for Ymir only.
'I don't know if this would work, but… It's worth a shot,' I thought and cracked my neck.
'Alright buddy… there's nothing in this world you can't do… *Phew*' I picked up a bottle of wine, and placed it on the desk.
Sitting on the chair, I placed my hands on the armrest and stared at it.
'Hmm…now what?' I thought. I squinted my brows and stared at the bottle.
Some time passed, and the surroundings blanked; the only thing in my view was that bottle.
'Alright… now think as if it were a drawing…' I said to myself, imagining that bottle on a white canvas, drawn from black ink.
I started flaring my aura out on the canvas, and drew a single line… my head felt like it was about to burst open.
As I was drawing a straight line across the bottle on the canvas, I unknowingly stopped breathing, finally, I closed my eyes and heaved a long breath.
"Haa--Fuck!" I grasped for air and whispered as the colours returned to the world. I felt like I was about to black out.
I looked ahead at the bottle, and… nothing happened.
"…" I expected this much. I guess this won't work… maybe because it wasn't added officially in the game.
I sighed in disappointment and placed a cup on the table as I clutched my head and closed my eyes. I could still feel the pain in my head from just now.
I picked up the bottle and started pouring wine into the cup, but something felt off.
The bottle just felt too light in my hand.
Squinting my brows, I opened my eyes and looked at the bottle. More like, just half top of the bottle in my hands.
'What the…' I thought and looked ahead, wine spilt on the table, flowing from the bottom half of the bottle.
The cut was so clean that someone might think this was how this bottle was made.
"Hah… I guess it's doable," I muttered, impressed by myself.