Ayil calmed his breath, thoughts whirring with the mind-altering experience. He reeled back to the feeling, in that state nothing bound him. Hell, the very fabrics of reality were but cords he could pluck at with his Higher Consciousness. He needed to return. He had to, for it was the highest of freedoms.
"Have you collected yourselves?" Cyrill asked, her voice strangely patient. The room fell silent. All held only awe for the one who showed them the First Gate. "I understand. You all would like to return. But first, you'll have to understand the price for that is steep."
The Arlath reached into the pockets of her coat, pulling out a small silver-black capsule. She held it up between two fingers for all to see.
"Do you wish to fight God?" Cyrill asked, her voice piercing. She made a graceful gesture, waving her hand. "But how can you? He is everything. The very air you breathe to keep the bodies hosting your souls alive is infused with His essence."
She swallowed the small capsule. Moments later, blue mist condensed around her body. It swirled gently, as though it was the physical manifestation of the noble air she usually carried.
"Perhaps your wish is not something as grandiose as fighting an Omnipresent Deity," Cyrill said, pacing the room. Her footfalls left dark-blue ethereal prints. "Maybe you simply want to change your Fate. Live a simple life amongst the peasantry... That, too, is an impossible wish. He will not let you. Trust me. With a tiny amount of Lurthinine, you can break the chains on your body that bind your soul. And once you do that—"
There was a blinding flash of light and a gentle increase in heat. When Ayil opened his eyes, he saw a calm sphere of flames floating above her palm.
"—things as absurd as splitting and containing countless fragments of 'His body' becomes a reality," she finished, the bright orange-yellow sphere dispersing as a black vapor invaded it rigorously.
KalloSyth, Ayil realized.
"...Truly a magnificent material," Cyrill said, leaning against her hardwood table. "However, as wonderful as Lurthinine is, it is a very difficult material to manufacture. As it needs two key components. One of which is Soul Shards."
A smile blossomed on her face; cold and beautiful. "Do any of you know a thing or two about Soul Shards?"
No response; they all turned away when Cyrill's eyes met theirs.
"As expected," she said coolly, eyes hard with disdain. "Simply put, the immortal soul has a structure similar to that which thrives in chaos. Because of this, using KalloSyth's help, and with enough Will power; you could crystallize a normal human's purest state of being. To make Lurthinine, about twenty thousand Soul Shards are—let's say 'fused'—to a few grams of a very special metal."
Absolute silence filled the room. It was so heavy; it thumped Ayil's eardrums. Fifteen thousand lives? For a few grams? He didn't have a problem with taking lives, but the skewed proportion made even him a little revolted.
"What?" Cyrill asked, her smile fading. "You saw it; the world is populated by a few billion of them. Does it matter if a few of them are sacrificed for something greater? If it truly disgusts you... Leave! I will not stop you."
There was barely any movement, they sat still, embarrassed.
"Good. Throw away notions that will only serve as weaknesses," she continued, seemingly satisfied. "It will help you when completing my assignment. Each of you is to bring me five Soul Shards. You have a deadline of two months. Do not show your face in my class without finishing this request."
'How?' Ayil wanted to ask, but it looked as though Cyrill was done talking for one lifetime. Besides, she could read his mind if she wanted to answer the question; she would...right?
Cyrill blankly stared at them, beckoning for them to leave with her eyes. The group left, some distressed; others excited. Then, there was Eira. Boredom plastered to her face.
"That was quite exciting," she said sincerely, noticing Ayil's questioning gaze.
"Yes... it truly was." He replied, concluding that the only thing which could force a strong emotion out of her was amputating her own fingers.
The second bell rang, signaling the start of the next appointment; the 'subservience class'. Ayil couldn't stop himself from falling into his mind as soon as Raimon said something about a servant having 'pride' in waiting on their master.
He sat back, clinging to the sensation of diving into Chaos. After forcefully holding onto it for a few minutes, the feeling gradually faded as though it were a fleeting dream.
Deciding to at least focus on something else, Ayil thought about Cyrill's speech. Something bothered him immensely about the way she kept pushing the idea that they had no other choice but: 'Fighting' God...
He didn't have such ambitions, as soon as he understood enough about Kallomancy, he was going to find a way to hide his presence from TaraLoth... Or at the least find out why God hadn't destroyed him yet.
'...But first,' Ayil thought, looking at the suave man addressing the large audience. 'I have to find out how they plan on controlling me—Hmm? What's this?'
He frowned, finally taking notice of the sneaky glares and looks directed at him. There was no doubt about it, many shadows were whirling in the back of those eyes: Fear. Disgust. Malice.
'Disappointing,' Ayil thought, peeking at the brown-skinned woman on his left. Initially, he thought the nervous girl next to him was stealing glances because she was interested in him; not because she was afraid of being eaten. '... Hopefully, this isn't something that'll have to deal with constantly in the future...'
When the class finally ended, they were pardoned to lunch.
"The next 'class' would be a most appropriate time to harvest the thing called Soul Shards," Eira said, picking out the meat fillings in Ayil's sandwiches.
"Do you know how to 'harvest' Soul Shards?" He asked, swiftly tossing a piece of meat in his mouth before the blonde could react.
Eira stomped his toes beneath the table in irritation. "No," she admitted. "But I imagine it's as simple as forcing KalloSyth into a target's body and Willing it to crystallize the soul."
"It's that simple?" Ayil asked, hiding the pain jolting up his body by chewing the salty red meat with a satisfied expression.
"Sometimes Kallomancy is simple," she said, sighing. She shifted her platter further from him. "Other times... it is not. Either way, it's a start. Unless you have a better method?"
Ayil sipped from his water bottle slowly. "I don't," he finally said. "However, I'm against the idea of doing it in the next class. We'll only attract more unwanted attention. So we'll test your theory in the dead of night. Discreetly."
"Oh. I quite like that plan," Eira said between mouthfuls. "Does that mean I'll be sleeping in your bed for the night?"
He fell silent. Now that he thought of it, Eira once mentioned her quarters were two floors above his. "...I suppose it can't be helped."
"Does that perturb you?" she asked, staring at her fingers in a slight trance as they slowly regenerated. Though not by much. All of the fingers on her right hand were but short, fleshy stubs.
"It does not. Until I repay you, my 'home' is your home," Ayil said, standing as the bell marking the end of meal time sounded.
Eira smiled gently. "Splendid," she said, leaving her seat. "Then, shall we? And try not to die this time around."