Arthur Olvasen:
The intricate web of my primary node surged and expanded in tandem with my pulsating heart, as I took in deep breaths of the fresh air infused with abnormal amounts of ambient Arcanum.
"By the Osiris…" Michael's dazed, distant voice echoed in my ears. He was not looking at anything in particular. His eyes were unfocused as he, as well, took in the naturally rich and high-quality ambient Arcanum.
Turning my attention back to myself, I curled and uncurled my fingers.
My body felt light. Exceptionally so. It felt like I had lost a few kilograms of weight in the matter of a few seconds. It was liberating. To an uncanny extent.
A twinging wave pulsated across my chest. There was a slight, prickling sensation emanating from where my heart was. My primary node was expanding, yes. However, it was inside the heart. If it expands, it will more than likely force the heart to do so as well.
It might as well just tear my heart apart.
Not exactly panicking, I tried to put an intangible wall around the primary node, forcing it to stop sucking the high-quality Arcanum from the surroundings. As soon as I did, the heightened feeling of ecstasy also washed away, however, I had benefited enough from it.
Too much selfishness can sometimes result in a person's demise.
I turned around and looked at Michael who was still in trance, his hands loose on the side and the straps of his bag slipping from his shoulders and slowly skidding down his arms. After a few minutes of blankly staring at him, he opened his eyes.
"Whooo!" He exclaimed, shaking his head that made his white locks frolic wildly. "That was fucking awesome!" He exclaimed as he balled his hand into a fist and then punched at the open air. The crack of sound barrier breaking crackled as a loud boom filled the air, followed by the echoing sound that bounced off the towering canyon walls right beneath the cliff we were standing on.
As he heard his echo as well, he took a step forward and peered down. "We got teleported to Arizona or something?" He mused with a delighted smirk; way too happy.
Well, who wouldn't be. Something impossible had just happened to us. After feeding on morsels of Arcanum for centuries, we will finally be able to use our Arcane Arts—potentially—to its full extent.
Our ancestors would never even have entertained the notion of humans increasing their Arcanum reserves. But it was possible. Not only was it possible, it was occurring to us.
However, something didn't just sit quite well with me.
The fact that the primary node could stretch and expand. Adam's scriptures never mentioned something like this.
One theory could be because Adam and Eve both were born in a world where humans had free access to Arcanum. Their nodes might've matured before they even manifested their first Arcane Art. Maybe that is why they neither never noticed it, nor bothered to write about it. Naturally.
Because the feeling of primary node expanding was more akin to a shrivelled-up bag of flesh suddenly being filled with water. Like a bag that always had the capability of storing this much water but never did due to the environment that forced it to stay humble in its consumption.
"Do Arizona's people have horns?" I asked, pointing down towards the epicentre of the Grand Canyon. Or what it looked like. While the Earth's Grand Canyon had layered textures of deep reds and vibrant oranges to earthy browns and subtle yellows, this one was much duller, consisting mainly of a very light shade of black and some white stains.
Michael squinted his eyes, focusing on the thin line moving. With enhanced vision one could tell it was a queue of denizens of Eden, chained from their neck to hands and then their feet in some kind of mediaeval shackles. Quite an old method of curbing offenders, but never mind. I guess people of Eden do like to keep old traditions alive.
The dark elf girl—-Thelasa—was also talking about her "prized" weapon being passed down as family heirloom. Which isn't a predominant tradition on Earth anymore. It might be a thing, but as I said, not "predominant."
While they were wearing long, baggy clothes that shielded even the outline of their appearances—save for the chains that were not only connected to their limbs but also by a long chain to each other, keeping them in line—, the one person leading them at the front, presumably in charge of these prisoners was what made me assume we were not in Arizona.
Even from this faraway vantage point, the man stood tall and imposing, his figure draped in a weathered red cloak that moved in tandem with his slow gait.
There was no breeze and the sun was shining quite mercilessly on our skin, making my entire body sweat. With our eyes still on the man, I got rid of the overshirt and Michael removed his sweater, tossing it to the side.
Beneath the man's cloak, he was wearing something that can only be regarded as a general's uniform with layers of chainmail that gleamed dully in the sunlight, encasing his chest and shoulders in a shield of sorts. Most likely to neutralise any incoming projectiles.
However, the chainmail was bright golden in colour, instead of the usual silver. It was quite strange. Did they not progress at all? Or have they combined modern technology with ancient weapons?
I felt a little excited, but at the same time, if this was true, this was going to be concerning. Modern weapons on Earth—except maybe tactical nukes—were unable to put a dent into Arcanum users. The Seven Syndicates made sure of the fact that no new weaponry can bypass Arcanum users' defences.
How foolish.
The man's legs were clad in sturdy leather greaves with multiple scratches, scuffed and worn from countless marches and skirmishes. But all of these bizarre elements in his attire—by our modern standards—paled in comparison once I looked at his head.
Or to be more specific. Although we were quite some distance, the pair of grey, curved—groove-like horns sprouted from his temples and extended upwards.
He suddenly stopped and with a lightning quick speed he snapped his head backwards.
Tackling my shoulder into Michael, I pulled him to the side as we both fell on the rocky ground. His limbs flailed and just as he was about to jump back to his feet, I held both his hands and pinned him to the ground.
"You wanna do this right now, eh?"
"He almost saw us." I hissed through my teeth before laying down on the ground as well.
"You fucking pussy. You afraid of the first guy you see in this place?" His voice almost echoed as he tried to get up and held me by the scruff of my shirt.
"If he can sense us looking at him even though we are only using bare minimum to augment our eyes, then yes. It's not fear. It's cautiousness. I am not going to die just because an idiot brute can't think straight."
As I spoke, he scowled down at me, his eyes flickering between different shades before finally returning to the usual bright golden. Flipping over to the side, he laid on the ground, with his arms and legs spread out like a starfish.
The faint touch of the man's Arcanum was still in the air. He was looking exactly here. However, since the cliff was a bit tilted, he had to go back from where he came to even try and get a peek at us. The terrain was in our favour. But I have to say… his Arcanum sensitivity was extremely high. For an unsuspecting individual to pick on just basic sight augmentation from such a distance was absurd.
Once I felt the slight movement in Arcanum subside, I looked at Michael. Without giving me anything, he sat back up. Stepping towards the corner of the edge in a crouched position, I got behind him. He looked around for a while as I readied myself for anything.
The ring on my finger turned soft like clay, ready to be moulded into a weapon in a moment's instance, while at the same time keeping it as close as I could to its original shape, so the performance of my Arcane Art does not give away our exact location. A few moments of gawking around here and there, Michael turned back.
"They're gone."
A wave of relief washed over me as I got on one knee and opened my bag. To my side, I felt Michael shift and do something however I kept my gaze down. The bag Astrid had prepared for me was filled with basic rations—a few snacks and 4 bottles of water—a change of clothes and a long robe. Disregarding everything else, I took out the robe and stood up.
It was a simple grey robe with a huge hood behind it. Looking over in Michael's direction, I saw him touch and pick a few stones. He was smelling some and some never caught his eye. The ones that did qualify whatever test he was putting them through made its way into his pocket. As he looked in my direction, his nose scrunched up as if I had done something very wrong.
"I didn't even say something."
"Even a blind guy can see you are trying to judge me and thinking of yourself as some superior specimen."
"You overthink too much." I shrugged. "It's unhealthy. Not to mention extremely unsightly."
He scoffed. "There you go. You just proved what I just said." Shaking his head repeatedly and touching various parts of the ground, he stood up with a disappointed look on his face. "You don't want me to use this now, do ya?" He suddenly asked, gripping his necklace.
"No idea what that might be."
I could guess the reason behind it, but what's the point? There were more pressing matters at hand. It's more than likely that that man will come back with more people towards this place once he is done escorting those slaves or servants or prisoners or whatever they were. It would be a logical course of action. Especially from someone who holds both power and a high authoritative position.
How can I say he has authority? Well, he had a chainmail made of pure gold—or what I think of as gold—instead of the regular ones. More than likely he has a high ranking. Not only that but the insignias hanging from his shirt were also quite the giveaway. We must leave as quickly as possible.
As if he could hear the gears in my mind turning, Michael stooped down and picked his sweater up before packing it into the bag and taking out his own robe which was the same as mine. "What's that plan?"
Looking to my right, over my shoulder, I closed my bag and raised a brow at him. "You are asking me?"
With a swift motion, Michael circled the robe around his body before draping it over his shoulders, feeling its weight settle comfortably. As he cinched it around their waist, the fabric enveloped him perfectly. Adjusting the folds, he looked up at me and then in a dramatic manner pulled the hood over his head. "You don't want me to go totally balls to the walls and attack their front gates now, do ya?"
There was an animalistic look in his eyes. One that made it very—extremely clear that what he said just now was exactly what he was planning to do. That is, unless I have a better plan to enact. Something that is effective. Our Arcanum reserve was a bit bigger than before, yes, however, it didn't mean we could go head-to-head with people of Eden. Especially not when they practically bathe in Arcanum.
"I don't exactly have a plan." I replied, being totally honest. It was true. It was my first time here as well. What was I supposed to know? "What we are lacking right now is intel. Once we have enough of it, we can mitigate the risk here. Even if we can't do that and push comes to shove, the shimmer will collapse in 6-7 days anyways. Once that happens, the other Syndicates will arrive as well."
"How you so certain 'bout the shimmer only lastin' 6 days?" He asked, kicking a stray rock down the cliff.