It had been a few minutes since Greaves granted them privacy, yet not a single word had been uttered, nor had the mood shifted in the charged silence of the room.
Narvel's mind wandered along the edge of his painful past as he wondered if this was how he would be left behind by someone he once considered family. Even worse, he feared that she might lose her life while fighting the Federation.
Though he knew that the Sunmoon Realm represented a higher echelon of power for Novas, he had never seen its champions in action, nor did he truly understand what truly powerful Novas were capable of.
This lack of experience fueled his tendency to underestimate Joseline—and, in turn, his fear for her safety.
"I didn't mean that you're a burden now," Joseline began, her voice low and earnest, "what I'm trying to say is that it will be extremely difficult for you to reach the stage where you can protect yourself—and, by extension, protect me. I can help you become stronger. I'll share whatever resources I have with you. I'll let you have sixty percent of them until you reach the Sunmoon Realm."
Her words were spoken with as much sincerity as she could muster, and they carried an undercurrent of guilt.
She truly felt remorse; though she had no intention of belittling Narvel, her words came off as such.
Part of her guilt stemmed from the past, when she had always believed herself to be a burden to him, recalling how he had even faked his age and taken up extra work to provide for her when she was weaker.
He had never complained or called her a burden then, and though comparing the past with the present would be unfair, the memories fueled her guilt.
"What's the difference between that offer and calling me a burden? Won't that hinder your growth?" Narvel responded his tone a mix of wounded pride and irritation.
"It won't—" she began, but he interrupted, "Don't lie to me, Josy. I can tell."
At that moment, Narvel's inner voice echoed a painful question: 'I never imagined I'd return and be met with such disturbing truths. Am I that… weak?'
The Whispers in his mind always called him a weakling, a thought he used to ignore and thought it to be a part of their ploy to break his mind, now it seemed to be uncomfortably accurate.
He wondered how he had fallen from wanting to protect her with his life to feeling this pathetic. "I won't take from you, Joseline. I want to help you, not drag you down," he murmured, his voice trembling with self-reproach.
A heavy silence filled the room once more before Joseline broke it.
"Let me ask you this: do you know how to get stronger as a Nova?" Her voice was both gentle and firm. Narvel's blank expression confirmed that he had no idea.
"Perhaps part of the reason you haven't made progress is that you don't know how to. There are many ways—different paths—to becoming stronger, but there is a foundation that must be built for all of them," She began.
"The first factor is your Level; the second is your talent, and the third is what you have comprehended—be it an inheritance or a Glyph Technique. Everything here—the output and efficiency of your abilities—can be limited by your level. However, your level isn't what you should truly be focused on."
"What then should I be focused on?" Narvel asked, his eyes reflecting curiosity and a trace of insecurity.
Joseline's gaze softened as she continued, "The second and third—your talent and your comprehension—these two will increase the base percentage of your potential." She paused, her eyes flicking to her stats display that only she could see, then back to him. "What's your potential percentage?" she inquired gently.
"It's at nineteen percent now," At first he was confused as to what this potential percentage would be, but he recalled the percentage that was next to his level.
Hearing this, Joseline sighed, her reaction carrying both concern and resignation.
"One of the things that separates the strong from the weak in the world of Novas is that percentage of your potential. Those with higher potential can more easily increase their levels and reap many other benefits, while those with lower potential struggle immensely. Other factors may play a role, but this is the fundamental truth. A Nova with a higher potential percentage is capable more when compared to another of a lower potential in the same realm."
Narvel considered her words and his mind churned with the implications.
Unsure whether nineteen percent was high or low, he nonetheless felt a glimmer of hope. "Then I just need to increase my potential, right?"
"It is not that easy. Most people's potentials are fixed, and even if they can be increased, it would take a tremendous amount of effort to achieve any significant increment."
Narvel frowned, and his confusion became evident as he asked, "I thought you said that focusing on my talent and comprehension can increase my base potential percentage?"
"Yes, but that also depends on how deeply you understand what your talents entail and how well you have integrated that understanding into your overall skills and abilities. Another crucial factor is the grade of the comprehension you achieve," she explained.
Narvel's brow furrowed further, as the layers of complexity began to unravel in his mind. "There are different grades of comprehension?" he pressed, his voice tinged with uncertainty.
She nodded. "Yes—Common, Uncommon, Rare, Unique, Legendary, and Mythical. The same concept applies to Glyphs, treasures, and weapons, each with their own distinct attributes. As for talents, although there is a grading system for them, I do not believe that talents can truly be graded. When used correctly, a talent perceived as useless could actually be catastrophic."
The more she explained, the more convoluted everything seemed to become for Narvel. "What about the Attributes? Aren't they of some use?" he inquired, his eyes searching hers for clarity.
"Do you have an Attribute in your stats display?" Joseline asked, momentarily surprised by his question. Her initial shock faded as she realized that she might have underestimated Narvel.
"Attributes are like talents, but on a deeper level. Attributes are almost like comprehensions ingrained in your mind and body—knowledge you possess but may not fully know how to utilize. Because of Attributes, one might manifest several talents," she clarified, her gaze flickered from one place to another on Narvel's body as she outlined the intricate relationship between potential and ability.
She was silently watching as his injuries were healing at a rapid pace, which was something abnormal for someone at his level.
"I see," Narvel murmured, a hint of understanding dawning on him as he contemplated why he possessed multiple talents. It also gave him a rough idea of the path he needed to take.
"How then do I begin this journey?" He questioned, leaning forward.
"It's quite straightforward and dangerous at the same time—a path that has claimed many lives," she replied. "All you have to do is kill the Monsters and Beasts you encounter in the Crucible. Killing Novas would work too, but I don't advise you to go down that road."
Narvel's stomach churned at the thought of killing another human. Even though he wasn't one to truly care about much, the idea unsettled him deeply. To him, her words seemed to indicate that she had grown numb to the act of taking a life.
"If you kill a Monster or Beast, you'll see a new slot appear in your stats labeled 'Gene Fragment.' The more Gene Fragments you accumulate, the stronger you can become. With these fragments—whether or not you follow the guidance of a Glyph Technique—a Nova will be able to grow in power. They also serve as a form of currency in the Crucible, making Gene Fragment extraction a significant and perilous task."
Narvel's eyes widened in thought. 'I've killed some Monsters in the Hollow Forest, yet that baby Stratus Songbird was the only one that yielded Gene Fragments. Why is that?' He wondered.
"Those in the Awakened realm must absorb the Ember from Awakened Fragmented Genes to grow," she continued.
"How many of those will I need?" Narvel pressed, his tone laced with both curiosity and apprehension.
"It's hard to say—it varies from one Nova to another. Those with a higher base potential percentage will require more than those with lower potential. There is a consensus on this, but none of those details are critical for you right now," she explained.
"Hmm, what if I get my hands on fragmented genes from a Sundered level beast? Will I be able to use them?"
"Not on yourself. If you try to absorb an Ember of a higher grade without having the body to contain it, it's akin to suicide—your body will explode. But, as I mentioned, Gene Fragments are also a form of currency, so you should still be able to use them to purchase what you need," she replied.
The fact that she went into such details revealed that he had never experienced any proper form of civilization within the Crucible.
She truly yearned to know what he had experienced during the two years he was lost—what made those two years feel like merely two days to him.
Simultaneously, the question of where his body had been all this while resonated in her mind. After all, he had come from the third floor of the building, meaning he had entered the building without alerting anyone already present. Which was difficult for her to comprehend as she is powerful enough to notice such things.
"I see…" Narvel whispered, his voice heavy with contemplation.
A heavy silence then graced the room before she continued, "I will be leaving Avalon for a year or two. We have a raid and rescue mission, and after that, we must flee Avalon and go into hiding. The Federation will be furious, whether we succeed or not."
Narvel understood the implications of her words, and he couldn't bring himself to argue. It didn't surprise him that she prioritized her virtues over their relationship; that was her nature. Or rather, she felt that she owed those who fought with her some repayment, and she couldn't be selfish enough to forget what she owed.
Neither of them liked to owe anything to anyone.
"I shouldn't wait for your return then?" He uttered painfully, the question catching in his throat as a thick flame of anxiety stirred within him. Narvel wondered why he felt this way.
It was disgusting and repulsive, and yet, he found himself going through these drums of emotions.
Did he truly love her?
It was a question he had asked himself many times and never arrived at an answer.
In his eyes, they were a real couple, bound by marriage, yet he had never truly been taught what love was. Still, he was sure he felt something deeply for Joseline—something undeniable.
"How soon?" He finally pressed.
"Tomorrow evening," she replied shortly, her tone leaving little room for debate.