There is a lot to be said about the history of our world, its creation and how it came to be. Many cultures have diverse ways of interpreting them, but the story remains the same.
The High God, omnipotent in his wisdom and Omniscient in its application. He formed Grim Earth out of the darkness of the cosmos. He dreamed the first angels into existence. Their divine state and purity enabled them to serve him as close companions and servants. But the angels were beings of energy and absolute power. They lacked a spark that would make them true inheritors of his will. In his loneliness, the High God wept, and then the first man was born, crafted when the blood of the High God mixed with the earth beneath our feet. And the first woman? She rose up from the ocean when his bloody tears fell as rain over it.
And the sea and the land met, the union of man and woman, and the first family came to be. Ardan the first man, Nobira the first woman, Guine the first daughter, and Sarkan the first son. But as many were born, so too was the first sin, born into dissent within the hearts of the angels. Pride, jealousy, hatred. They were the first of the High God's children. Why would they have to share his love and attention? And it was so, the first demons were born.
Excerpt from the Historical Compendium of Grim-Earth Vol-1
Author Unknown
CHAE CITY
RISING TITAN INDUSTRIES
FIVE YEARS LATER
This is getting annoying. " Just what am I missing?" Azrael asked himself as he turned the spell card with the image of a turtle shell in his hand over. He had on a pair of reading glasses; however, he was still pulling the card as close to his face as possible, in order to get a closer look. It was about time to upgrade the glasses anyway. The grimoire with the
If he could glean enough information from the matrix, then perhaps he would be able to engineer and produce a mass defensive spell card that could be applied to a variety of situations. He has been at it for three days now... and so far, he has not had any luck. Idly he wondered if he should not lay a curse on Thomas for foisting this damn thing on him. It was as if the old man was worried that if Azrael got too idle, he would move around, causing trouble.
Azrael did not think it was fair though. He almost killed a supervisor one time, and it was one time only. It wasn't too bad though. Instead of getting fired or punished, he ends up in a private workshop and office. An intern with his own workshop? All of this just to keep him out of trouble. He could almost hear the whispers of Nepotism anytime he walked through the company halls.
Azrael felt sorry for Thomas though. The man had tried his best to get him to mingle with people. But those interactions usually ended up with Azrael staying silent through all of it, making for a very awkward conversational partner. Then there is the time when he speaks with absolutely no filter and ends up causing problems. He has lost count of how many times he ended up making people cry, kids mostly, but there were a few adults in that group, especially men.
Azrael placed the spell card down and sat back, rubbing a hand across the bridge of his nose. He moved his head from left to right, groaning as he cracked his neck and got up to stretch. He shifted his gaze to the clock, 7:35. It would be another hour before the building clears out of any other workers. He contemplated pulling an all-nighter, but at the same time, he yearned for the comfort of his bed. Either way, even if he did not pull an all-nighter, he would still be leaving late.
He felt close to a breakthrough. The problem with the damn spell card was that its matrix had an error or, rather, it was damaged. The part that takes in mana to power the spell was inverted. Instead of dragging mana from within, you would have to pull it from outside. Normally, this should not be a problem for Azrael; he could do something like that in his sleep.
The problem with this, though, had to do with the fact that he had to hold the mana outside and cast the spell outside without letting the mana go through his channels. It was impossible, ambient mana was hard to control, and even if you could drag it into you, casting spells is a process that would need to send the absorbed mana to your source, where it needs to be attuned, before pouring the attuned mana into the grimoire that would cast the spell. But for this strange spell matrix, a bloody attunement was not needed for the mana. Which is why this is impossible. The grimoire would help focus and cast the spell, but for this? Spells like this are more like blessings, passive spell effects as opposed to an active effect. There was a process to their casting that you needed to follow, and for this, you needed unattuned ambient mana to cast them.
"I hate this," Azrael mumbled as he picked his phone up from the desk. He had a message from Emilia reminding him they were supposed to have breakfast tomorrow morning with Thomas. He should pull an all-nighter. He had no patience for Emilia's incessant nagging. It did not help that Thomas always seemed to side with her; the coward. He did not need school, or a pet, or a hobby, or a girlfriend. He had no idea how to communicate with an ATM, much less a complex organism like the opposite sex. No, he had everything he needed right here. Within this workshop there were hundreds of Azrael's hobbies. All of them were abandoned, some of them just being ideas or concepts, as evidenced by the dozens of to-do lists he had hanging or plastered on different whiteboards.
All this was his attempt at 'living' as Thomas and Emilia were always so quick to remind him. But how could they expect him to live when the most important thing needed to live was absent... humanity. Azrael felt nothing, he could pretend he knew what an emotion felt like and act accordingly. In fact, he has gotten so good at it over the years, he always gave off the first impression that he was normal. But he felt nothing, no joy, happiness, anger, hate, sadness. Nothing. He was decisive though, tough on himself and extremely focused with no emotions present to distract him. He was just...here. He had no dreams or ambitions because he lacked the ability to dream, and he-
"Are you brooding again, Azrael? I told you that edge lord thing is just not going to work. Trust me. Even if you have all the qualities and tools for it, Mr Death affinity user, you do not have to do it. Everyone is sick of edge lords and dark characters. Just be a wacky antihero, that would be better. " Just make sure it is less....'this'." Azrael rolled his eyes, as he spun and dragged his seat across the debris-covered floor of his workshop and got to the table where Thomas was currently unloading a pre-dinner snack. Thomas suddenly stopped, then he sniffed the air, before looking down at Azrael and asking.
"Have you been smoking again Azrael? I told you to be quiet. An emotionless young adult getting high is a cheat. And I do not care if it helps you focus. It is still a cheat. " You are unstoppable when you take that thing. And" I would not want to have to deal with your razor tongue for any extended period of time," Azrael shrugged as he spoke.
"Fair enough old man/ for your information it wasn't me..." Emilia was here earlier." Thomas hissed through his teeth in annoyance, as he swore in a different language. Thomas had tried to get Emilia to quit smoking when he found out she had been smoking since she was twelve. Azrael had been seventeen and Emilia nineteen. He remembered things had been tense. Thomas blamed Emilia's mother for being negligent in their daughter's upbringing. And Emilia and her mother had fired back that he was never around, so he had no right to judge or dictate what Emilia's life was supposed to be like.
"You should try and stop her. Seriously, you're the more logical of the two of you. " Can't you caution your sister and help her stop her bad habits?" Azrael shrugged.
"They're also my bad habits."
Thomas shook his head in exasperation. There was not really anything he could do about it. These two share a bond that even he did not share with his daughter or Azrael. And for Azrael it was significant. He could not feel anything, but he could know. And that was enough, the genuine love and care that Emilia had for her little brother was one of the main things that made Azrael keep trying...trying to live.
"Alright, eat up. From the look of things, you will be staying out a bit late. We have dinner at ten, so make sure you are not late. " Now are you ready to swallow your pride and let me give you a hint about the spell card?" Azrael, with his mouth full, one half of a glazed donut missing from the pile that Thomas had brought along with himself, replied.
"I don't have pride."
Azrael spoke it as it was, a matter of fact. Thomas opened his mouth and closed it a few times. There was nothing he could say about that. The boy was right. He grunted as he sat down and grabbed a donut of his own. They sat in silence for a few minutes before Thomas started speaking. "So are you sure you wouldn't consider going to colle-"
"Don't start, old man," Azrael said as he let out an annoyed grunt. He paused... was he really annoyed? Maybe? Well, at least this was how someone who is annoyed acts anyway? Thomas would not just give up, but instead of trying to convince Azrael, he devolved into an all-out rant.
"Oh, come on! I need my Bachelor's pad back to myself. You see these bones? They are not getting any younger. And I need to get myself some sugar before I am too weak and old to do so. You can at least consider moving out. You can go live in the city with Emilia. Damn it, just give me some space."
"I don't want to."
"Gargh! Damn it! Fine, it is my fate then. I, too, will now have the moniker of sugar daddy, going around to hotels with his conquests. Because of you, I will have a bad name in the community. " Let that be on your conscience," Thomas declared as he grabbed a glass of orange juice, only for Azrael to reply.
"I don't have one."
The older man looked at the younger one like he was the worst possible thing that could have possibly happened to him. It wasn't that Azrael was trying to be witty, the boy was being honest and as straightforward as he could possibly be. And that was what made his banter infuriating. Nevertheless, Thomas shrugged and decided to change the topic. "I noticed you were working on that composer's baton grimoire. " I can't believe those guys in customer care sent it over to you." Azrael shrugged.
"It wasn't too much of a problem for me to fix it and send it right back to them. " It took me five minutes. Thomas raised an eyebrow at that, but no one could deny the look of pride that was etched on his face. Not many would have been able to declutter the mess that the baton's spell matrixes had become. After its user had gotten particularly overzealous during a performance and overloaded the matrix, destabilizing the flow of mana to the spell matrix, and making them unable to cast the spell, much less control it. That's some advanced stuff you pulled off in fixing it. Enough that, perhaps, you should consider moving on from this intern's workshop and move into a proper workshop in the development division." Azrael rolled his eyes, but Thomas pretended he did not see it.
"I won't give you a fancy position or anything. " Most grimegineers in Dev work on personal requests, building grimoires from scratch for their clients. Azrael shrugged again, a gesture that Thomas had come to recognize as Azrael's response to topics he was not particularly sure about how to answer or understand. At least that blasted hood was down, which meant he was still willing to talk.
"I know all these things, Thomas, but it won't change my answer. I like it here.... It's quiet. So, I won't go to college, or move out of the house. You adopted me, so that's my father's house. I like my bed, and the groove on the couch. I don't see any reason to give that up, and I don't want to make grimoires for anybody. I'm content with fixing them."
Thomas shook his head, as Azrael leaned back in his seat, about to raise his hood up. "Leave the blasted hood down boy, I'm not pushing anymore. Seriously, dealing with you now is so much worse than Emilia's infancy. You will both be the death of me. " Come on, eat up and lock up. " Come home a little early. It's already weird. We have dinner at ten. At least let's spend some time and do something together, other than arguing and tinkering with grimoires." Azrael looked up at him for a few seconds, the silence getting more awkward by the minute before he answered with a simple.
"Okay."
Thomas just rolled his eyes and cleared the table of his meal. He ruffled Azrael's hair, laughing at the indignant look on the young man's face before leaving the workshop. As soon as he left the room, Azrael's face fell back into the dull, emotionless state that was the norm for him. It was a lot easier simulating real emotions according to the situation he found himself in, but somehow, he couldn't help but feel that Thomas saw through it. Every single time, it didn't make Azrael feel anything, but there was a sense of.... frustration? Thomas seemed like a mountain he just couldn't seem to climb, he could never seem to convince the man to look at him as anything but damaged.
Azrael turned his attention back to the turtle shell spell card; he had lied earlier to Thomas. Maybe not so much of a lie, he knew he could do it, but he had hit a wall too many times and lost interest in the shell. The concept behind the spell was something he could understand, he just couldn't correlate how the spell had to be cast with unattuned mana, directly from nature itself. But then again, the principle was not so different from the way he could absorb and utilize ambient mana. There were many who could do so, and for sure, with the help of a grimoire, this spell would still be cast. The grimoire would automate the process if the wielder was unimaginative. But for this spell to be etched onto a grimoire, a spell that Azrael had no clue what form or shape it would take, he had to understand how it works.
This spell matrix came from the back of a turtle shell. The spell card was deep black and had the image of both the inner and outer parts of the turtle shell on both sides, which meant when said turtle was still alive, it could cast whatever spell this bloody matrix induced. So how is it possible that a turtle, a living thing, could circumvent one of the limitations of spellcasting? Using ambient mana to cast spells rather than the pool generated from your source. He had seen previous experiments with creatures and individuals trying to harness ambient mana without attunement. Those that survived likened the feeling to someone rubbing sandpaper on their insides. Those that didn't survive ended up bleeding from every orifice, and others exploded. Yeah, he was not going to mess around with that spell card anymore, ambient mana is nasty, and Azrael was not particularly sure his own enhanced healing could keep up with the damage.
Great, now he had to figure out what to do next. He should at least try to clean up a bit before he leaves. Azrael was very particular about his 'arrangements'. So, while his workshop looked messy, he had a system, and due to his system, janitors were not allowed in there. It meant that he had to do the cleaning himself. Of course, this would require him to rearrange his system again, but better now than coming in tomorrow...he could smell something rotting. Best deal with that before it gets worse.