A day takes this long?! I already feel like I slept for twelve hours, usual for kids." he was certain that something about this world is 'unique'.
After a long breath and enough sleep, Morganael woke up and prepared his bed.
"Hm…" he was already invested enough in this world, "at least I won't be an unemployed piece of shit. Wait… did I call myself 'shit'?" what appeared to be his dumbness, was quite of his 'uniqueness'.
He yawned, so weary he didn't want to move.
"Man, I guess this world isn't that bad after all!"
He looked at the invitation letter from the Everknight Foundation, but a new one. But how did he get it here? He left the windows open.
His face went pale, his throat quietened along with the world. His eyes widened in fright and misgivings.
"OH SHIT!!!" he scowled at himself, panicking, his body shivering. His eyes weren't still.
He quickly grabbed the letter, and opened it.
𝔇𝔢𝔞𝔯 𝔄𝔯𝔱𝔥𝔲𝔯 𝔐𝔞𝔰𝔠𝔞𝔯𝔬𝔱,
𝔐𝔢𝔢𝔱 𝔲𝔰 𝔯𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱 𝔫𝔬𝔴, 𝔦𝔱 𝔴𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔟𝔢 𝔤𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔱 𝔦𝔣 𝔴𝔢 𝔤𝔬𝔱 𝔬𝔲𝔱 𝔬𝔫 𝔫𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱, 𝔫𝔬 𝔠𝔯𝔬𝔴𝔡, 𝔫𝔬 𝔰𝔲𝔰𝔭𝔦𝔠𝔦𝔬𝔫. ℑ𝔱'𝔰 𝔧𝔲𝔰𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔫𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔤𝔢𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔦𝔫𝔳𝔦𝔱𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫, 𝔦𝔱'𝔰 𝔮𝔲𝔦𝔠𝔨… 𝔟𝔲𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔨𝔫𝔬𝔴, 𝔴𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔰𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔟𝔢 𝔤𝔬𝔬𝔡. 𝔐𝔢𝔢𝔱 𝔲𝔰 𝔞𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔭𝔬𝔭𝔲𝔩𝔞𝔯 𝔟𝔞𝔯 𝔡𝔬𝔴𝔫 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔢𝔢𝔱.
ℜ𝔢𝔤𝔞𝔯𝔡𝔰~
ℌ𝔞𝔯𝔷𝔢𝔫𝔱 𝔙𝔢𝔯𝔷𝔢𝔩.
"HOLD UP!!! Did I miss something… ? Wait, I did…GOD DAMNIT!!!" his body was now trembling, he couldn't stand still, his eyes even widened, wider than the eyes of a psychopath.
He tried calming himself up. His body had frozen. He took a breath, and got a hold of himself.
"Listen, Morn. They won't do a thing even if I approach them late, right? Who would be awake so late at night! Artists are an exception, but am I one? No! So, they won't do a thing!" he finally got a hold of himself, cheered himself just enough.
He went to the wardrobe, and changed his outfit. Now that like an utter gentleman, he could walk free.
He wore the black short-trench-coat, with a black top hat, white shirt, a red tie, a black vest – black pants and socks, and definitely Chelsea shoes! Arthur had a cane he randomly found in his backyard, so Morganael took the chance. He took the cane with him, as well as the letters.
The popular bar just down the street? Did he mean 'Vernon's Bar'? I think he really meant that, because… that's the only popular bar shop here in the town! He was reckoning each step twice. Thinking of every possible consequence he could face.
He saw a beggar, wearing a robe, his face covered.
His robe was double his size, the only thing visible was his mouth. He sat cross-legged looking downwards.
What… in… the… world is that person?
He distanced himself from the beggar, making weird faces, a sign of relief on his face.
He had now reached the shop.
He moved his hand forward, and opened the handle… and when he did that, he entered inside. There were people dead, he immediately closed the door and went straight to the barkeeper.
"Sir, what is this?!" he questioned.
"Huh, are you an Everknight? If you are…" the barkeeper opened a secret door, same as the portal Everknights go through.
The place was vacant, and when he entered in the vacant void, a hall emerged, it was when he was inside.
When he turned back, the portal was gone, the place wasn't vacant. He couldn't steal out of from this place.
He had heard about the tidings across the town.
The place was stuffed with swains wearing the same clothes as him.
He recalled his fragments of the past, and there he was… Harzent Verzel.
Harzent noticed Arthur, "Arthur…" he looked at him in disbelief and dejection.
"You're late… and you're safe." his voice gradually slowed down.
He walked towards Arthur, his face was full of happiness. Yet, vague to explain was he was happy or was he pensive?
He grabbed Arthur by his shoulders, "Thank god, you're safe!"
Uh… sir, this is public. He thought of it as a moment of embarrassment. Yet, he was wrong.
The crowd there was already fluttering, like preparation for a murder mystery.
A person there saw Harzent and Arthur. His eyes were weakened and widened, his throat quietened. He pointed a finger at them like he was already half dead. His grip was weakened, "Isn't he the… Transcendentologist who was supposed to be dead?!"
Swains stopped, they looked at him.
Harzent turned back, "My fellows, we… we- we have him! HE'S ALIVE!!!"
People were cheering, they were happy. Arthur was too, he didn't know why he was. But he was. He felt 'special'.
"Arthur! Tell me… how did you survive the massacre?!"
"Sir, I didn't come…" Arthur answered, in confusion.
"You didn't?! It's a miracle!"
The crowd fell silent.
"But why… ?"
"Because I was asleep."
"That early?!"
"Uh… yes."
Harzent told Arthur to come into his cabin.
And he was following him, people distanced themselves in honour.
For the first time, my laziness helped me! He was happy inside, but also pensive for the fact that he couldn't pay condolences to those who lost their lives.
Most of the Transcendentologists there died, but how? The Sin Cult. Sinister Black.
Black wanted Arthur to become a Transcendentologist filled with trauma, but Arthur simply slept.
Black, who knew Arthur would come, but Morganael wouldn't. Black knew something far more essential for Morganael to keep hidden.
Black ordered a massacre, just to make the war more lengthy and fun.
He knew if he killed all the Transcendentologists, Morganael would be the only one left, and he had all the important fragments of memory. Morganael would be his best competitor.
And Everknights Faction Four having only a single Transcendotologist? It'd make the situation tough for Everknights, meaning Morganael would gain extra attention and training, meaning Morganael would be his greatest competitor soon.
It was all Black's plan. He thought twenty steps ahead. He'd have multiple plans for each path you choose.
Harzent slumped on his comfortable chair. And opened his drawer and took out some old but fresh cards. They were like Tarot Cards, but different.
There are forty-four identities in total, four-hundred-forty paths, and four-thousand-four-hundred+forty roots. Each path has ten roots, while each identity has ten paths. Ah, damnit! How can he learn so much? Who made this shit.
"What would you like to become? There are hundreds of paths, choose whatever path you want." Harzent gave a choice.
Let me remember… wait, as a Transcendentologist, Seer would be best for me!
"Seer. I think." he made a choice.
"Great." Harzent cheered back.
He had chosen the path of Seer.
These followings were the forty-four identities which made Morganael's brain tremble immensely.
1. The Author
2. The Fool
3. The Joker
4. The Wanderer
5. The Watcher
6. The Child
7. The Poet
8. The Keeper
9. The Reaper
10. The Dreamer
11. The Mask
12. The Time
13. The World
14. The Apocalypse
15. The End
16. The Sage
17. The Magician
18. The Space
19. The Ruler
20. The Warrior
21. The Creator
22. The Destroyer
23. The Lover
24. The Orphan
25. The Hunter
26. The Lost
27. The Beginning
28. The God
29. The Angel
30. The Morality
31. The Truth
32. The Lie
33. The Devil
34. The Demon
35. The Evil
36. The Good
37. The Everymen
38. The Justice
39. The Crusader
40. The Star
41. The Void
42. The Error
43. The Architect
44. The Absolute
The path Morganael chose led to The Author. His expressions were unreadable.
"Arthur… are you okay?" Harzent was worried.
"Yes! Sir." he had fled from his dreams, answering in sudden frightenment.
Harzent gave a smile, he again opened his drawer and took out a cheque.
𝔅𝔶: ℌ𝔞𝔯𝔷𝔢𝔫𝔱 𝔙𝔢𝔯𝔷𝔢𝔩
𝔗𝔬: 𝔄𝔯𝔱𝔥𝔲𝔯 𝔐𝔞𝔰𝔠𝔞𝔯𝔬𝔱
ℑ, ℌ𝔞𝔯𝔷𝔢𝔫𝔱 𝔙𝔢𝔯𝔷𝔢𝔩, 𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔟𝔶 𝔭𝔞𝔶 𝔣𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔐𝔞𝔤𝔦𝔫𝔦𝔣𝔦𝔠𝔦𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔰 𝔱𝔬 𝔄𝔯𝔱𝔥𝔲𝔯 𝔐𝔞𝔰𝔠𝔞𝔯𝔬𝔱.
It mentioned. Four Magnificients, meaning twelve-thousand eiros!
"It's your payment in advance, you'll be getting your money every week," he added, "the amount of money you'll receive is… two Magnificients per week."
"Thanks, sir!" he was full of joy.
"No worries!"
What do you mean 'no worries!'?! A week here is ten days long! At least I'll get money every ten days.
"Since you're the only Transcendentologist our faction has, please, don't fall into any trap." he warned Arthur, he had now become serious. Dead serious.
"Here, take this locket." Harzent gave Arthur a shiny-red gem with a black strong thread connected to it. It was a locket. "You can come here anytime using this. It'll also help you survive when you're in a problem. Death. Serious. Problem."
Arthur accepted the locket with joy. It was smooth as butter, shiny as a diamond.
He looked at the locket with his eyes daze. He looked at it for too long, he then proceeded to wear it.
It looked good on Arthur.
Red gem locket, along with red eyes.
Harzent put forward his hand for a handshake, for the new responsibility of peace and tidings.
He smiled, it wasn't extravagant, "Looking forward to work with you, Arthur."
He gave off a smile again, full of peace and meanings ahead. For the first time, Morganael felt important. Deeply.
"Right!" responded Arthur, in joy and feelings.
He put his hand forward for a handshake, too.
Out of curiosity, he began, "So, what will happen to me now… ?" he was confused, his face expressionless, his meanings vague.
His eyes were glowing with doubt and curiosity. For which he wasn't prepared enough.
His face was now tranquil, like a lotus in a lake. Filled with animals, nature, and joy.
He was standing still, looking confused.
"You will go home, for today. We don't want you to be dead too. We'll have high security on you." It seemed like he was invading privacy. Like uncle Marx.
It didn't mean anything new to Morganael, neither to Arthur, nor to anyone else in there. Privacy was like never a thing when you joined an organisation.
It was like they had all practised it. Slowly, slowly.
This sudden answer emerged from deep within, Harzent wasn't serious, yet, he looked.
He looked like a grandpa teaching manners to new kids. His face wasn't vague like Arthur's.
Deep within he knew, this wouldn't be a good journey. His privacy was already beyond saving, thanks to their uncle!
Arthur looked at him in disbelief, saved from his tranquilness.
They stopped handshaking, like water flowing gently off the mountains.
"What happened?" Harzent asked him, he was now vague about what is or was happening with Arthur.
Arthur too was in confusion or was he really confused?
DAMNIT!!! WHY IS IT ALWAYS MY DAMN PRIVACY?!
He looked tranquil from outside, and deserted from inside.
You could NEVER tell what was happening to him just by looking at him.
He had his life ruined either way, so now, he could experience the same thing but with more honour and respect.
Arthur's eyes noticed a couch, and he was really happy about it. Anything could have made him happier than before!
He sighed from relief, and slumped on the comfortable yet still couch.
He was now looking at the ceiling.
Harzent decided to tell him something, "Arthur, have you heard about the Black Apple History?"
"Of course, I have! I'm a Transcendentologist."
"Would you please mind telling me? I just wanted to test where off you can pull."
He stretched himself, ready to elaborate further off his history.
"It was before Mori became evil, he denied a black apple from the Supreme God, Aethernominus." he explained like he was a professor.
"Exactly. Life never goes the way we want it to be, does it?"
"No…" his voice gradually lowered like he realised the ancient truth.
He sat straight, thinking what he had realised. He didn't know what he had, he just had.
It was knowing the thing, but not remembering. Everything around him fell silent, Harzent was sitting in confusion, his hands under his chin, he looked at Arthur, like looking at wall of blood. Stuffed with something we never know.
"So…" Harzent began. It was now the time for something far from this world. For something big to come, there's always something big to go. As we live today, we may not tomorrow. It's either today, or forever. Sometimes, we have to leave something too close to us, for something big to come to us -- just for it go away again.