Chapter VII
Inside the wet, pulsing interior of the giant eyeball chamber, the ambient temperature plummeted.
Ryo Itsukizu did not move his feet, but his hand dropped instinctively toward the edge of his layered robes, near the hidden pockets where his talismans slept.
The air grew cold and heavy, compressed by a gravity that belonged to a deeper, older strata of reality.
"What happened to Kuroshiraga Arufa?" Ryo's voice was a low sliver of iron cutting through the hum of the chamber.
The boy standing before him...or rather, the entity piloting the boy's flesh...let out a dry, short laugh. It was a sound entirely devoid of Kuroshiraga's usual exhausted, teenage cynicism. He ran a hand through his black hair, which had quietly grown several inches longer, cascading over his shoulders like spilled ink.
"Kuro?...well...the boy's still daydreaming, if you can say that ." Kurael said, his voice carrying an unsettling resonance that vibrated through the obsedien walls.
"He is currently trapped inside the *Collective Subconscious*...in the nested domain of this Thousand-Eyed Witness. The brat is still technically fulfilling the conditions of the *Engram Chōra*, considering he was the one foolish enough to look directly at that thing ."
Kurael's gaze shifted, his dark eyes locking onto Ryo with a piercing, predatory focus.
"Which brings me to a rather glaring question, Auramancer. What exactly are your motives here? Are you working with Mnemoscopus?"
Ryo remained silent for a long beat, his eye narrowed beneath the wide brim of his conical hat, studying the being that had just taken the wheel of Kuro's vessel. He looked like a man performing a complex mental calculation.
"If your vessel had a shred of patience, we wouldn't be having this conversation," Ryo said bluntly. "He saw the runic incantation circles engraved on the floor and ignored them . If he had waited for me to explain the situation, I would have told him to keep his eyes closed. But he didn't. And now we are here." .
Ryo adjusted his hat, his tone shifting into something strictly transactional. "However, it makes no difference. Now that you are here, we can simply fulfill the original contract." .
Kurael tilted Kuro's head, an indifferent frown playing on his lips. "And what, exactly, was the original contract?"
"Your vessel was in a sorry state," Ryo explained, gesturing vaguely to the damp air.
"He was too weak to reach the next checkpoint on his own. The road ahead is crawling with formidable Dreadspawn that hunt in packs. With his current Ryoku reserves, he would have died within the kilometre."
Ryo took a step forward, his voice flat. "And since Kuroshiraga Arufa possesses absolutely no healing abilities or restorative techniques to speak of, the only way for him to restore his soul body to an optimal condition... was to die. In Makai, dying allows a soul body to reform at the last synchronized checkpoint."
Kurael's frown deepened . "So you took it upon yourself to kill him? "
"I was too impatient to watch him drag his feet across the wasteland, die slowly, and wait for him to respawn," Ryo admitted without a hint of shame...or remorse.
"Makai is vast, and I happened to be resting along his specific path because that's where his soul body originally reformed. So, I used my experience in runic geometry to construct a temporal checkpoint."
Ryo pointed down at the faint, glowing lines beneath the obsidian film of the floor.
"Real checkpoints are focus points where Ryoku, dark energy, and the spirit realm naturally overlap. You find them in the ruins of ancient dungeons from the Golden Era. Creating a pseudo-checkpoint requires four things: a *Source* of dense dark matter, an 'Authority' to mold reality, a *Directory* to guide the energy—which were my runes—and a *Medium* to oversee it."
"The Medium must be a sentient being of an incredibly high soul body status. In this case, either a goddess like Tenjo, or a deity like Mnemoscopus."
Ryo glided his fingers through the air. "I made a contract. I was the Invoker, Mnemoscopus was the Medium, and Kuro's soul body was the Subject. But Mnemoscopus added its own personal conditions to the terms before it would stabilize the loop."
Kurael shrugged, a fluid, elegant motion that looked entirely unnatural on Kuro's frame.
"A fascinating tale. Too bad I am not the Subject. Kuro was. I am under no obligation to fulfill a dead boy's contract."
"Don't be dense," Ryo reprimanded coldly.
"You share the exact same soul body vassal. The soul body itself was bound to the ink of the runes. It's basic logic, Kurael. If the vassal is bound, you are bound as well. "
"Indeed... He speaks the truth."
The massive, lidless central eye of Mnemoscopus vibrated, its cross-shaped pupil dilating. The voice echoed from every direction at once, resonant and heavy.
"The contract binds the essence, not merely the consciousness. But tell me, transient pilot... why is it that you can glare into my visage without flinching? Even a hint of indifference would be natural, but your gaze holds nothing. Ryo, I understand...he is protected by his craft. But you?"
Kurael didn't look away. Instead, his expression turned deeply unimpressed.
"It's obvious, isn't it?" Kurael pressed.
"You aren't even truly here. This is a mere partial projection, a fractured fragment of your true soul body form. Combine that with the fact that my own soul body status is vastly superior to Kuro's, and you have your answer. Your deception don't scare me, Witness."
Ryo let out a sharp, quiet breath. "So that's what happened."
Kurael glanced at him. "Whatever do you mean? "
"I used one of my talismans to water down Kuro's perspective before the ritual began,"
Ryo muttered, rubbing his chin.
"But my talismans are strictly limited to working on a single individual. I wasn't sure if the effect would target Kuro as an entity or blanket all three inhabitants of his soul body. Because the target parameters weren't specified, the talisman randomized its target."
Ryo looked at Kurael with a mixture of annoyance and clarity. "The talisman didn't hit Kuro at all. It hit *you*. That's why you've been sitting back in the dark with a dulled perception until just now. It also explains why Kuro met the conditions for the 'Engram Chōra' ...he looked 'directly' at the projection without the talisman's dampening shield. The kid took the full blast of a deity's gaze unshielded."
Kurael clicked his tongue, clearly annoyed by the magical technicalities. "Enough of this drivel. Tell me what this blasted original contract demands so we can leave this wretched place and head to the next checkpoint."
***
As if answering Kurael's demand, the grotesque projection of Mnemoscopus's giant eyeball suddenly dissolved.
However, It didn't simply vanish; it broke apart into a massive, towering plume of Eigengrau--an intrinsic, deep, absolute gray fog. Inside this colossal cloud, the air began to churn violently. Swirling, chaotic lights, impossible colors, and shifting geometric patterns of phosphenes flashed like lightning within the gray mist.
The cloud towered upward like a cumulonimbus storm reaching for a non-existent sky, before suddenly collapsing inward, contracting violently down to its very base.
When the fog cleared, a human silhouette stood in its place.
It was an exquisite, almost terrifyingly perfect androgynous figure. The entity had the build of a mature male adult, but its skin glistened with a flawless, radiant golden lustre. It wore a traditional white linen chiton and himatia, its head adorned with a sacred, shimmering laurel wreath. Draped over its shoulders was a gold-gleaming chlamys, the edges of which dissolved into translucent, shifting veils that mimicked the flow of pure aether.
But its eyes were the most striking feature–they were literal mirrors, reflecting nothing but the exact image of whoever dared to look into them.
The entity practically radiated the heavy, suffocating pressure of a learned scholar, completely drenched in an overwhelming scent of pure, unadulterated curiosity.
Neither Kurael nor Ryo could look away. The figure was so unnaturally radiant that it acted like a visual tractor beam, forcing their eyes to remain fixed on its perfect features.
The golden figure smiled, a soft, uncanny expression.
"Are you truly so surprised that I can assume the shape of a mundane human?"
Mundane?,nothing about that is 'mandane'! Kurael scoffed inwardly, his mind racing as he fought the urge to blink.
There isn't a single thing mundane about you. You're so loud and obnoxiously eye-catching it's borderline offensive,kureal lampooned.
Ryo, maintaining his cautious composure, tilted his hat up slightly. "Is that actually you, Mnemoscopus?"
The figure tilted its head in tandem, nodding gently. "It is indeed me, in the flesh. Or rather, I am still the same essence– my form has simply changed a bit."
Changed a bit is an understatement of several orders of magnitude! , Kurael lampooned in the silence of his thoughts.
Mnemoscopus raised his left hand, keeping his right tucked elegantly behind his back, and snapped his fingers.
Snap.
The dark, obsidian, eyeball chamber shattered like brittle glass.
Suddenly, they were standing in the center of an abnormally large, towering white bone coliseum.
It was a dazzling, gargantuan elliptical stadium constructed entirely from a horrific yet beautiful mixture of gleaming travertine white bone, flowing rivers of magma, and bricks of opaque diamond.
The grand, eight-story facade was layered with classical columns and pierced by exactly 800 arched entrances. Massive obsidian statues of ancient deities towered over the arena, casting long shadows over a stadium built to accommodate over 500,000 spectators.
High above the arena floor, situated on the shorter axis of the oval stadium, was the *Pulvinar*– Mnemoscopus's private, elevated luxury box. It offered an absolute, unobstructed, tyrannical view of the entire gladiatorial stage.
Kurael looked up at the roaring crowd. His blood ran cold.
The half-million spectators filling the stands weren't monsters or demons...every single one of them possessed the exact same human face, golden skin, and white robes of Mnemoscopus. A stadium of half a million identical scholars, all staring down with mirrored eyes...some cheering others, shouting joyful chants.
In the sky above, the intrinsic gray clouds of Eigengrau swirled with phosphene patterns, but they parted around a bizarre central anomaly...
Where the sun should have been, there was a massive, pitch-black circular curtain enclosing a gigantic central aperture. This dark iris framed a massive window of pure, blinding spherian sunlight. The surface of the black curtain was mostly smooth, but delicate, thread-like strands and radial furrows rippled outward from the central light, making the entire sky look like a cosmic human eye looking down upon the lands.
On the stone stage below, Kurael and Ryo stood side by side, their silhouettes dwarfed by the sheer scale of the arena.
"The conditions of the contract are simple,".
Mnemoscopus's voice boomed, filtering down from the Pulvinar with an ethereal, theatrical majesty.
"You must defeat two opponents of my choosing. How you defect them is entirely up to your own discretion... so long as you put on an intriguing show!" .
Two massive, illusory doors manifested out of thin air on opposite sides of the arena floor. With a heavy, echoing groan, they swung open.
***
From the left door, a towering humanoid figure stepped onto the sand.
Up close, the creature's true, unsettling anatomy became impossible to ignore.
Where a human face should have been, there was only a smooth, matte-textured visage completely dominated by a single, massive central eye. The almond-shaped eye was fixed in a wide, unblinking stare, its pupil a bottomless, hollow ring. Crowning its elongated skull was a series of rigid, chitin-like ridges that crested backward like a regal crown of pale bone, giving the creature an imposing silhouette.
Segmented pauldrons crafted from polished obsidian rested over its broad shoulders, curving sharply down to protect its upper arms before transitioning into layered, ribbed under-armor along its torso. Despite the alien nature of its upper frame, its hands were surprisingly defined, ending in long, articulated fingers wrapped in flexible, dark gauntlets.
The creature was dressed in the flowing, austere vestments of an ascetic zealot. A heavy, coarse-textured tunic was cinched tightly at its waist by a thick, layered sash of frayed fabric, its loose ends hanging down the front.
The sleeves flared out dramatically, wide and jagged at the cuffs, catching a phantom wind like tattered wings. A subtle, luminous aura of pale violet light bled outward from behind its frame, casting its front into sharp, dramatic shadow.
"One of my most devout adorers," .
Mnemoscopus announced proudly from his box.
"My blessed vanguard, Malakor."
From the right door, a female figure stepped forward.
Her skin was a soft, pale alabaster, and her entire figure seemed almost translucent... only slightly, but enough to give her a ghost-like, ethereal quality while remaining firmly corporeal.
She wore a unique, combat-ready variation of traditional ritual garb: a pristine white robe featuring a high, structured collar lined with a sharp line of scarlet piping. The garment was tightly form-fitting down to her waist, bound neatly by a thick, wrapped sash of dark charcoal fabric.
Below the waist, the white robe parted into high, dramatic side slits, revealing loose, billowy black trousers underneath that gathered tightly at her shins. On her feet were simple, sleek cloth boots designed for completely silent movement.
In each hand, she held a heavy folding fan crafted from polished iron, their ribs currently spread wide like a pair of predatory wings.
When she looked across the arena and smiled, her entire countenance softened, carrying a gentle, serene warmth that could easily make a warrior forget the lethal danger she possessed.
Her dark hair was cut into a precise, straight fringe across her forehead, while the longer locks at the sides were clipped bluntly to frame her cheeks before cascading down past her shoulders like a sheet of dark silk.
The most striking features, however, were the long, rectangular talismans dangling from her earlobes.
Suspended by delicate silver chains, the earrings were vibrant red and white, bearing a bold crimson symbol– the kanji for *Harm* 害 ...inscribed inside a circle at the bottom. As she tilted her head, the heavy talismans swayed gently, a constant visual reminder of her mystic lineage.
"And your second opponent,"
Mnemoscopus cheered, his voice suddenly losing its majestic grandeur and turning into the embarrassing, overly enthusiastic tone of a proud father pumping up his child at a sports match.
"My lovely, cherished, blessed daughter—Shiunoko! Show 'em what you've got, sweetie!"
Shiunoko let out a soft, embarrassed sigh, looking up at the Pulvinar with a strained smile before turning her attention back to the stage.
Kurael entirely ignored the cyclopean zealot on the left, his eyes locking onto Shiunoko.
He felt a sudden, unfamiliar hitch in his chest. Just like her 'father,' she was utterly hypnotic– it was almost impossible to look away from her beauty. Yet, weirdly, the moment he focused on her, an unnatural sensation washed over his brain, making it incredibly easy to lose sight of her, as if his mind kept trying to forget she was standing right there.
These two contradictory states... an intense urge to stare and an artificial urge to forget... alternated violently in Kurael's mind.
Ryo was experiencing the exact same cognitive dissonance, but the Auramancer had it worse, his eyes straining beneath his hat as he fought the mental fog.
Kurael felt a sudden, hot flush creep up Kuro's neck. He blushed furiously and snapped his head away, cursing his vessel's hormones.
Ryo, however, forced his gaze away from the girl and focused entirely on the blessed adorer, Malakor.
Ryo had a sinking feeling that Shiunoko's perception-warping abilities would be an absolute nightmare for his specific talisman style. It wasn't that he would lose, but fighting her would be an inconvenient, slow, and tedious affair.
The cyclopean adorer looked vastly stronger in terms of raw Ryoku, but to Ryo, raw power was manageable. It could be calculated.
As if reading Ryo's mind, Malakor raised a long, gauntleted finger and pointed directly to the left side of the circular stage, issuing a silent, honorable challenge to the Auramancer.
Ryo gave a cold, polite nod, adjusting his hat as he began to walk toward the left hemisphere of the arena, leaving the right side to Kurael.
Kurael, picking up on the cue, raised his hand and gestured toward the right side of the stage, signaling Shiunoko.
Though he meant it as a declaration of combat, the fluid, dramatic flair of his posture made the gesture look less like a challenge to a duel, and more like an invitation to a dance.
Shiunoko noticed, her serene smile returning as she humbly bowed her head and obliged, stepping gracefully toward the right side of the arena.
"Win this one, Shiunoko! You've got this!"
Mnemoscopus's booming voice echoed down again like a cheerful fanboy dad.
Shiunoko offered a brief, polite wave back to the luxury box, then turned her full attention to the long-haired youth standing before her. She snapped her iron fans shut with a crisp, echoing *clack*.
"Before we begin," she said, her voice smooth and melodic, "may I ask your name?"
Kurael went silent for a moment, the faint blush still lingering on his cheeks. He crossed his arms, trying to regain his dominant composure. "Kurael."
Shiunoko tilted her head, her rectangular talismans swaying with the movement. Her dark eyes blinked in slight confusion.
"Kurael... I find that name strangely familiar. How odd. I cannot seem to remember why."
On the opposite side of the stadium, the massive cyclopean adorer stopped across from Ryo.
The air between them rippled with the creature's violet aura.
"Auramancer," Malakor spoke, his voice deep and gravelly, sounding like grinding stones.
"Name yourself."
"Ryo Itsukizu," Ryo replied coldly, his hand finally slipping inside his robes to grip the edge of his first talisman paper.
Malakor struck his chest with a heavy fist, bowing with the rigid discipline of a holy warrior.
"A fitting name. Let us ensure this conflict is one of absolute honor, respect, and valor. May our battle bring joy to the Witness."
Ryo didn't answer. He simply drew the slip of paper from his sleeve, the ink on the talisman beginning to hiss with blue sparks.
High above, the half-million identical faces of Mnemoscopus leaned forward in unison, their mirrored eyes gleaming with anticipation as the shadow of the giant sky-eye fell over the arena floor. The show was about to begin.