"Oh, is that so?"
Mark yawned as he laid his back against a dirt slope. His distracted thoughts latched on to the fact that his uniform had been tainted by the dirt of the trench, bringing a tinge of sourness to his mind.
Paul was much more open than before. He expressed his past and thoughts like a book sprawled open, its pages blown by the wind as the words flash by at an incredible pace.
It was hard to keep track of everything he was saying and at times his words were carelessly ignored. But that didn't matter. So long as there was someone to talk to he would feel good.
At least, that's what Mark hoped the major was thinking. Ever since he approached Paul, his ability had been kept active at such a small and unnoticeable scale that there barely would have been any effect. Through this, he instilled the slightest bit of contentness and warmth in the man.
After taking some time to analyze the major's thoughts, he started to take the approach of only raising the concentration of his ability whenever the man seemed distracted or caught up in his speech.
This way, it was only a matter of time before Mark would get what he wanted.
He continued to attentively listen to Paul, both to his words and to his tone. Splitting his focus into two, he made sure to engage with thoughtful replies while also instilling his ability slightly more whenever the man seemed caught up in the conversation.
They talked as the sun rose in a scarlet dawn, painting the sky in a hue of utter violence. The only thing to disrupt them was the occasional sound of bombs dropping in their proximity. Sometimes a plume of dust and ash could be seen rising into ash-laden clouds.
A slight calmness built itself in the atmosphere between the two men while they waited for no particular event - with the exception of the inevitable and dreadful call to arms, where they would then rush over the trenches and to their probable deaths. They were indeed quite calm.
In contrast, Mark's mind was working at an impressive rate as he continued to piece together the various bits of information and inferences that he collected during his time in the trench, hoping to find the answer to why he felt as if there was something missing, something of unequivocal importance.
He remembered the red-eyed leader of the Spheks and for a moment thought about where the lunatic would be on the battlefield, at least, if he was still alive. But what caught his attention the most was how he had been able to control his subordinates so well.
Was it through fear? Loyalty? Or was it something much more sinister? There were many approaches that could have been taken, but the end result was that each member of the Spheks was dead serious, burning not with passion but instead with a callous coldness.
What Mark was currently doing - slowly manipulating the major to do as he wishes. Was it something along the lines of that? Maybe each lunatic in the gang felt joy for obeying the leader, or simply were too afraid to disobey. In either case, submitting others to full control was certainly not out of reach.
The question was simply how he was supposed to instill such feelings into his targets.
He already had some experience when the leader confronted him in front of his old workplace. There, the lunatic had used his will to invade Mark's mind, brutally exerting influence without regard for the consequences. Though time seemed to be a bit crunched at that moment, so maybe such a method wasn't the best way to approach the matter.
It felt too out of reach to be accomplished. A different approach was necessary, one more clandestine and potent. Rather than brute force, maybe a poison would be better. Sort of like how the Spheks leader made certain objects carry his ability, which was also something that felt out of reach.
But how did they work?
With that question, Mark turned to Paul who he had never stopped talking with amidst his thoughts. He discreetly manipulated the conversation to reach the opening he wanted, and then finally asked the question.
"How do you think the Blessed affect the emotions of others?"
Paul thought for a second and scratched his head.
"It's probably based around psychology and the way people associate with others."
Knowing that his explanation was vague, he took some time to come up with a way to portray his idea more clearly.
"Imagine the way a snake would hiss to threaten others when protecting themselves. What makes people so scared of the hissing sound in the first place? My theory is that communication happens on an innate level, where words don't matter as much as the psychological cues people get when hearing certain tones or sounds."
He tapped his chin.
"The Blessed probably can skip the process of communication and draw on the cues, leading to what is basically emotion manipulation. Of course, I don't know everything. Maybe your ability can go further than that. Most of the people I saw weren't able to live long enough to fully understand the power they held."
Hearing that, Mark closed his eyes and pretended to sleep while reflecting and thinking about the words. His mind was soon swamped with thoughts as he tackled the enigma of his ability once more.
Sadly, it seemed like life had other plans for him.
Something was tapping at his back, but the only thing behind him was the trench wall.
Listening more closely, he picked up on a faint sound that seemed to be iron scraping against the first stone.
He turned to Paul.
"Do you hear that too?"
The major nodded with a subtly grave expression.
"It's a terrible moment to have been handicapped by some idiotic young fool. Thanks once again, Mark."
Sighing, the tired man accepted the danger of the situation as he stole a glance at the wall trench wall.
"It seems that were going to have some company today."