Arc 5 | Chapter 159: A Tad Stupid

“You should leave,” Emilia told Boundary, not for the first time.

The man had refused to budge the first few times she’d said as much, first after they realized someone was coming, then after they realized just

who

was coming, and then after the man had entered the building and any hope they still had that he was just passing by disappeared. Now, the Risen Guard didn’t even acknowledge her words as he glared down the doorway.

“Seriously! You have a kid now! You shouldn’t stay here with us and—”

Emilia cut off, everyone stilling as Carne stepped into the room, his eyes looking oddly distant as they slipped over their group. ⸂Hello,⸃ Gale’s once-sibling said. He didn’t bother to smile, so at least they didn’t have to contend with the man’s creepy, fake kindness.

Beside her, Conrad watched the man with a bored expression, although Emilia could tell Carne was making him uneasy. He’d reactivated his defensive membrane as soon as Boundary had moved them, but if anyone was capable of getting through it, she was sure it would be Carne. What better use for your ability to read the universe than to find ways through its most powerful techniques.

“Hello,”

Emilia signed, remembering that the guy couldn’t hear visitors. His eyes looked her way, once again seeming to stare straight through her. Rude.

⸂Carne,⸃ Boundary said, tone not quite icy, but definitely unimpressed with his former… something’s presence. The Risen Guard had never explained how the two of them knew each other, but Emilia had a feeling they’d been more than classmates or simply members of the same organization. ⸂What are you doing here?⸃

Carne’s eyes slid back to Boundary, something soft entering them before quickly vanishing, and oh. So it was like that? Given Carne seemed to barely be the person he had been before receiving the heartcore gift that had overwhelmed his personality, it was interesting to see that he still felt

something

more for Boundary.

⸂We have a similar goal,⸃ Carne noted.

⸂Oh?⸃ Boundary said, readjusting the yurken in his arms. If Carne had noticed the creature, he gave no indication. To Emilia, he seemed almost incapable of seeing things or people he didn’t care for—or maybe things the universe didn’t need him to see.

The man nodded, shifted. He stared at a wall—the wall that faced the entrance to Clarity’s hideout. ⸂Yes. I have more members of my group to retrieve. Sawyer is quite worried about them. You are going as well. We should go together.⸃

“Do you know if Gale and our other friends are there?” Emilia asked, waiting patiently for Boundary to translate for her.

Carne didn’t bother looking her way as he said he was unsure—the universe would not tell him. ⸂They are not my story. They are yours. If you wish to find them, you will have to ask the universe to tell you your story.⸃

That was… an interesting way to put it… and slightly creepy. The idea that the aether could guide someone’s way had already been disturbing, implying that the universe could understand the future—or perhaps was so aware of all the things occurring within it from moment to moment that it could intuit which way would serve its reader best. Still disturbing, not to mention powerful. She’d never thought of the universe as something potentially capable of thought or decision before this raid, and she wasn’t sure she liked thinking it capable of such now.

Then again, chances were the

universe

of the raid was just a simulated one. That was as far as their own training system had ever gotten: to making a copy of the aether within the Virtuosi System. Chances were, the universe around them was simply code, layered onto the real aethernet. Chances were, the real universe couldn’t be read like this… probably.

It was certainly easier to think it something that existed solely within raids, but memories of the real world—of forming skills to work within its rules, of fighting the monsters of war and seeing the way

they

interacted with the aether, of watching the way some Free Coloniers moved with the waves of the universe… Well, she really wouldn’t be surprised if she popped out of this raid and realized it wasn’t just a raid thing—not entirely, anyways.

She wasn’t really sure what she’d do with that sort of information—with the potential ability to reach out and ask the aether for

her story.

⸂And what is the story you see for yourself?⸃ Boundary asked with the flawless deliverance of someone who had asked the question before and would ask it again.

Carne hummed, turning back to them as he considered the question. He stared blankly into space and for the life of her, Emilia had no idea if he was faking not knowing the answer or was sorting through the information the universe was feeding him to find it.

⸂I will descend into the city of cursed minds, and retrieve what is mine. We will go together, but part. The city of cursed minds will fall. The man of cursed minds will die. The world will begin anew. The world…⸃ Carne trailed off, blinking so slowly it was eerie. ⸂The world will be better, I believe. It is a line, connecting my story to yours. I can see it, yet cannot. There are too many variables. You should not bring that child with you.⸃

It took a moment for Emilia to realize Carne was referring to the yurken, the man having failed to acknowledge it before that moment. “You should take it and leave,” she told Boundary, tugging furtively at his sweater—the man hadn’t even bothered to change into proper gear. “Go back to your family. This isn’t—”

⸄Do not say this isn’t my fight,⸅ he bit out, harsher than she’d heard his voice before. ⸄This is my world. It is my family who will be forced to live here if you do not find a way to break the blood curse.⸅

“I didn’t think you believed it would be good to bring about another blessing?” They hadn’t talked in such blatant terms, but of all the things she’d learned from Key and Rin about the Risen Guard, the fact that they didn’t want to risk another blessing seemed accurate.

⸄I…⸅ Boundary ran a frustrated hand through his hair, his eyes flicking between Carne and her.

He trusted Carne, she realized. For all that the man had been corrupted by a heartcore so completely that his personality was barely what it had once been, Boundary trusted the man. Maybe not entirely—what would the point of letting Benny go with him as a spy be, if Boundary completely trusted him, after all. That shouldn’t have been a surprised—hadn’t he assured her several times after they met in the city that the homeless children would be safe? That the person with them wouldn’t hurt them?

Boundary trusted Carne, at least when it came to some things. Was it just a remnant of friendship or affection from the past was the question, or was it based on something more—something actually worth trusting herself?

“Fine,” Emilia sighed, planting her hands on her hips and telling Boundary he could come, but only if he got rid of the yurken, grabbed proper gear, and told his husband was he was doing.

The Risen Guard blanched slightly, but agreed, nonetheless, vanishing a moment later.

[

Emilia:

and make sure he confirms with me that you actually told him

]

[

Boundary:

You know being a Risen Guard is a dangerous profession, yes?

]

[

Emilia:

yes, of course i know

]

[

Emilia:

doesn’t mean I can’t think you’re better off staying home where you’re safe

]

[

Boundary:

Your friend broke into my house. How safe can it be?

]

That… was a little fair. It didn’t mean Emilia wasn’t worried for the man, for his husband and child. Logically, she knew they could use his help. He knew more about this world than the children, and if Carne was intending to split up with them soon after they entered Clarity’s city system…

It was hard, was the thing. Tons of parents had fought in the war, of course, some of them under her. It had never been easy to send them onto the front, knowing they may very well not return. It was also necessary. People died in war. People died fighting for a better, safer world.

She still didn’t want to be responsible for getting Boundary killed, and by the time he returned several minutes of painful silence later, she was holding her {Blood Ball} out to him.

“Just so you know, I have no idea why this thing activates when it does,” she said, blinking away a notification from Villy, asking her to try and make sure his husband came home safe. “You should take it all the same. You never know when it will save your life.”

Boundary didn’t hesitate to take it, not the way one of the kids might have. Perhaps because he understood more than a regular civilian that she wasn’t of this world—that his life was worth more here than hers.

Carne didn’t bother to say anything to them as he turned and began leading them through the building. Occasionally, his energy would flicker as he searched for the universe’s guidance—a clear sign that Conrad’s energy couldn’t completely suppress his abilities—but otherwise he was quiet—they all were.

⸂

That guy is creepy,

⸃ Conrad messaged her. As much as he’d taken to his own aethervoice well, he wasn’t quite as immediately skilled as Astra or V had been and couldn’t be trusted to speak privately to her through it. ⸂

He can read the will of the universe? What does that mean?

⸃

As much as the other visitor had overheard her conversation with Boundary about Emile, he hadn’t asked any questions about it. Probably, he had been waiting for the man to leave so they could discuss it. That chance hadn’t come, and as they walked, Emilia softly explained to him—through normal talking—everything she knew about it. Occasionally, Boundary would offer up additional information, although it was nothing that suddenly illuminated the whole thing to her.

Really, she knew she wouldn’t be able to get answers she really wanted until she was back in the real world and was able to test things out herself. It was frustrating, though. She wanted to research it now! And that… that was kinda great. It had been so long since she’d felt passion for anything, her obsessive personality having long been knotted up to counter other knotting consequences. She had missed this feeling, and even though it was frustrating that she couldn’t vanish into the aether and pop out in front of one of the dozens of spots she

knew

bore scars from the war to examine them, it was exciting.

She wanted to be home.

She wanted to research and learn, even if the fact that Payton would never be able to get her back to the perfect specimen she’d once been was a bit sad. Something to learn to live with, her tangled up balance levels. Once, she had run from her trauma. Maybe it was time to face it. It wasn’t something she’d ever escape, not as long as it lived as a mess of knots inside her, but maybe with a little work, she could accept it as just another part of the puzzle that made her

her.

It was just hard, sometimes. The her of now could never be the her of her youth, and really, she should probably mourn that person. Throw them a funeral.

Her heart clenched, thinking about letting that part of her go—of seemingly giving up hope that she’d ever be that person again. Probably, the healthier thing to do was accept that person was gone, and she would forever be this slightly broken, traumatized version of herself.

That sounded terrible, and she shook the thoughts off.

One day, she’d get there. For the moment, she’d just have to accept that she was this way for now and try not to fall back into a pit of despair as she lived. Better to focus on the present, and the nonsense two of the men in their group were arguing about.

Boundary and Conrad were the bickering pair, arguing about whether the visitor’s abilities naturally read the will of the universe or not—Boundary seemed to think the man’s abilities

should

be able to do so, Conrad firmly believed they could not, although Emilia had a feeling he was disagreeing simply because he didn’t much like Boundary. Given they’d barely spent any time together, she couldn’t help but wonder

what

exactly was causing such dislike.

If Carne was paying attention to their argument, he gave no indication. He just walked on, leading them through the winding hallways and staircases until a name popped up on Emilia’s map, indicating they were getting close to the front entrance to Clarity’s city system. Not that they’d be going in the front door.

They’d be going through the same entrance Conrad had broken in through. Not that anyone had actually said as much, but she was pretty sure that where they were going, and when they passed by the indicator, she was unsurprised.

They kept walking, and the idiot men kept arguing, Boundary’s tone growing increasingly annoyed while Conrad’s held a hint of amusement and fascination. She… should probably distract them, before a fight broke out.

“So…” she started, speeding up to step between the men, who had left her behind in their haste to argue with one another, “how long do we have left here, anyways? In the raid, I mean.”

Conrad blinked at her. Boundary frowned. Even Carne paused to glance back at her, a vaguely concerned look on his face as he actually

looked

at her for the first time. Rude.

⸂You don’t know?⸃ Conrad asked, sounding much too incredulous in her opinion.

Emilia shrugged, giving a short run down of all the things that had happened to mess with the already vague sense of time she had in this world—even now that she’d managed to open a clock in her system access, time seemed to mean nothing to her frazzled mind. ⸂Are you telling me you know exactly how much time is left?⸃

⸂Yes,⸃ he agreed. He looked like he wanted to tell her she was stupid before thinking better of it—or, perhaps, he remembered that she didn’t raid and had less experience with these things than most. ⸂It is good to know when your chances to win will end.⸃

“And ours will end…” she prompted, fighting down the urge to point out that they had no idea how the winner would even be determined.

The other visitor blinked at her as Carne forced Boundary to open a stuck door for them—apparently if he could get through Conrad’s defensive membrane for more than his universe reading ability, he had no intention of doing so at the moment. ⸂Less than two days.⸃

Oh. Okay. Maybe she deserved to be treated like she was a little stupid, then.