Chapter 529 - Beyond Quest

POV Nathaniel

There are no more stairs. Through the hallway, lit by a gentle orange glow, I pass multiple doors until I reach the one that stands open. The room beyond is shaped like a half circle, and within the wall opposite the outer curve, another door stands open, leading to a vast loggia. From there, I can see into the darkness, filled with shards of the broken moon and countless stars. There is a strange sensation in the air—so tangible it almost seems to slow me down. It’s fascinating.

The room itself is tidy, yet it’s nearly crowded with tables, crystal pillars, statues, boxes of materials, vitrines holding various items, and glass containers filled with odd liquids, along with much more.

Every wall is lined with shelves made of black wood, covering the entire surface of the wall except for the loggia’s opening. Thousands upon thousands of brilliant, pale-blue mana stones rest on these shelves, each about the size of a grape but more oval.

Near one of these shelves, I see a velnar man—the same race as the assistant called Hed. Like Hed, he is many heads taller than I am, though he appears slimmer and older than the other velnar I met. Gray hair covers his head, and a matching beard extends down to his collarbone. He is wearing a black, long-sleeved shirt and similarly colored pants. The only adornments are simple silver ornaments around his collar and sleeve ends.

Sensing my presence, he turns fully to face me, and at last, I see his eyes. Parallax eyes, whatever it signifies.

They are deep black, like a night sky without a horizon, scattered with tiny, shifting lights that glimmer softly—as if the stars themselves are watching.

“I recognized that technique the moment you arrived,” he tells me in a voice that is deep, calm, and soothing.

There is a hint of curiosity within it—the sort of nearly childlike curiosity that I know all too well. He seems to possess it even at such an advanced age.

“I have mana stones with information that would greatly improve it,” he offers. “Information that will help remove the defects. It would make that technique incredibly more powerful.”

“No. Thank you.” I shake my head.

He smiles. Looking at me with those remarkable eyes, he gives a slight nod. “You seem to have understood that person’s teachings very well.”

Kyralon then gestures for me to come closer. I oblige, my gaze darting across the room at all there is to see. There’s just so much.

“I would like to ask you a question,” I say.

“Please. There is no need to be overly polite. Your…handler,” he adds, smiling with faint amusement at that word, “must have told you about my preferences.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to end up thrown out of the tower for asking too many questions.”

“That is not impossible; there has been someone like that before. While I value curiosity, I also value peace from needless irritation. So, let us strike a balance: for every one hundred questions I pose to you, you may ask me a single question in return.”

“I think that’s a good deal for me, so I’ll take it,” I answer promptly.

“In that case, I want to restate my rules. I’m sure your handler told you, but I prefer to repeat them so there is absolutely no misunderstanding.”

He leads me out to the balcony, where two chairs sit on either side of a small table. The tabletop is circular and made of that same black wood. A dense web of inscriptions is etched into it, with what looks like silver metal wire filling the grooves. There are also literally a myriad of the tiniest mana stones I have ever seen—each no larger than a few grains of sand, but scattered across the table in a careful pattern.

“I’m listening,” I confirm.

When Kyralon gestures again, I sit in the smaller chair while he settles into his own. His large frame looms over both me and the table, which is already quite big for me but fits his proportions well.

“There is no reward for this quest,” he begins.

“Yes.”

“If you touch anything I have not allowed you to, you will die.”

“Yes.”

“If you try to identify anything I have not allowed you to, you will die.”

“Yes.”

“This next rule is new, but I think we’ve already reached an understanding: if you ask too many questions, I’ll throw you out of the tower.” He smiles.

“That would be understandable,” I confirm.

“Then there are the obvious rules—no stealing, no attacking me, and so on. The punishment is likely death, but that could vary.”

“Understood.”

“Good. Now that we’ve clarified the more severe rules, let’s continue with my request.” He straightens his clothing and looks at me. “You will keep me company for the next five days. You will answer any question I ask without lying. You can refuse to answer, but we will discuss your reluctance if it arises.”

“Yes.”

“You will also help me with certain tasks if I request it, but in exchange, I won’t make you do something that would kill you.”

“That’s very nice of you.”

“For all of that, I swear upon my life and upon my title as the Warden of Parallax Eyes to uphold an unbreakable vow of confidentiality regarding anything you share with me about yourself, your life, or your circumstances. I will not divulge it to anyone else, under any circumstances—even if my own life is threatened or the consequences of my silence are dire. That extends to direct communication, indirect suggestion, or even coded references of any kind."

"Huh, okay?" I say surprised by the change of speech, but he seems to be taking it seriously so I listen as he continues.

“I further promise that I will not use the information you provide to harm you, your family, your friends, your associates, your community, your organization, your planet—any aspect of your life, physically, emotionally, socially, or otherwise. I will not let that happen through my words, my actions, or my inaction."

He looks at me and I nod.

“No record will be made of what you share—no written documentation, no mana stones, no memory crystals, no proxies, no constructs of any kind. The information will reside solely within my personal memory, inaccessible to others. I will never repeat or transmit it by any means, magical, technological, or otherwise, and I will employ every measure to protect it from intrusion or extraction, regardless of how skilled or powerful those seeking it might be."

I nod again.

“No one else will be present, listening, or observing as I receive this information—not through surveillance, skills, mind links, or any other methods. I will not consent to any force, influence, or entity, even those I would normally trust or control, having access to this knowledge. Even if I die or am rendered incapacitated, I will not pass on this information by inheritance, legacy, or any posthumous mechanism. Should my ability to honor this vow come under threat—by external forces, incapacitation, or the unforeseen—I will sever the knowledge from my memory before I allow it to be compromised or weaponized. This is my vow, binding and absolute."

The honesty of that long declaration is confirmed to me through the system, as well as my title as a Champion candidate. It appears to be a variation of declaration—or perhaps a challenge. And I believe it.

He has taken the system itself as his witness, effectively inviting it to kill him if he breaks this oath.

Kyralon continues, “I’m not entirely shameless, so your reward will be one answered question in exchange for every hundred questions I ask you, as well as anything else you might learn or gain here.”

“I agree to all of that.”

“Perfect.” Kyralon claps his hands together with a gentle smile. His gaze does not leave me as he asks his first question: “Please, tell me the name of your planet.”

“We call it Earth. I’m not sure if it’ll get a fancy new name after joining the system, or if it’ll stay as it is.”

“Interesting. What is your planet’s population?”

“About eight billion humans, give or take.”

“How did you learn that information about the population number?”

“I heard it on TV.”

“What is TV?”

“Um, just so you know, don’t expect detailed scientific explanations from me, but I’ll try,” I give him a small warning. “TV can be of various sizes. It’s mostly a thick sheath of plastic, glass, and electronics. It changes what it displays by lighting up internal components. Speakers—stereos—vibrate to create sound, recorded or broadcast live. TV is connected to a planetary network that allows people to share information.”

“Very interesting. Who manufactures it? What are electronics? What do you mean by lighting up lights? Who makes these recordings? And what is that network? Also, how do most people live—cities, villages, or settlements? How large are they? Why do you share information?”

He punctuates each question with genuine enthusiasm, his immense frame leaning in while those Parallax eyes remain fixed on me.

I can feel my energy drain at such a barrage of questions, but I press on. The reward is simply too intriguing. I recall that he will answer my single question after one hundred of his, and the information he might reveal will likely not be censored by the system. And, after all, he’s an Absolute—someone even my handler said is among the oldest.

“Usually, companies make it. Honestly, it’s some kind of molten rock, I think, and they run electricity through it to create certain effects. Look, like I said, I didn’t pay too much attention in school, and it’s not really my strong point. By ‘lighting up lights,’ I’m guessing there are LEDs or pixels—maybe something more advanced nowadays. I know that in the past, TV used to rely on red, blue, and green lights, and by adjusting how they lit up, different colors could be displayed. As for who records the content, mostly companies again, but sometimes it’s done live, too—it’s complicated. We have massive cities with millions of people, and I think the biggest city has around forty million. But we also have small villages of only a few dozen. We share that information because people are willing to pay for it.”

I let out a short breath, unsatisfied by my explanation, but it doesn’t deter the curious Absolute before me.

“Such a civilization is not uncommon in the system,” he notes seriously. “Tell me more about these companies. Tell me what you think of this ‘electricity.’ Tell me more about the schools you spoke of. How do you know they used red, green, and blue diodes—did you learn that in school, or elsewhere? Who gathers such information, and how is it stored? You sound less than fond of these ‘companies.’ Why is that? What is the currency of your planet? How is your world governed, and what system do you use?”

So, I begin answering again, carefully keeping track of the number of questions.

I do my best to be thorough—partly because I want him to answer me in kind, and partly because, strangely, I find this entertaining. He’s asking questions about things I’ve known for years but never really thought about deeply.

At last, when I finish answering the one-hundredth question, I look him in the eye. “That was one hundred.”

Kyralon nods. “Indeed. Please, go ahead and ask yours.”

“You said you recognized the technique I’m using. Tell me about the person who created it.”

He smiles and nods approvingly, as though verifying something about me. Then he reaches for a small pouch on his belt—just large enough for him to slip two fingers inside.

The pouch is simple, crafted from a white leather I don’t recognize, worn with age, and fastened by a red cord woven from several threads of the same color. There is a single pattern upon the leather: a faint black silhouette of an open hand.

Kyralon withdraws two glasses from the pouch—one that is huge by my standards and another smaller, meant for me—followed by a bottle of pale-blue liquid that seems to sparkle. The bottle alone is far too large to fit into that pouch under normal logic.

He notices my eyes lingering on the pouch and asks teasingly, “Have you already settled on your next question for another set of one hundred answers?”

I nod, earning an amused look. After pouring drinks for us both, he takes a long sip before speaking.

“Lissandra Hawthorne, the first and only Absolute of Eladore. She lived so long ago that only a handful of the fourteen Rulers remember her personally, with just a few more Absolutes and other beings. She left her planet after it fell to internal strife, along with the lone survivor—her disciple, Absolute Candidate Ruby, whose surname is unknown, likely due to her upbringing as an orphan. Those who still remember Lissandra Hawthorne call her by various names: Eladore’s Shadow, The Absolute, but most often, The Ancient Monster. She and her disciple are remembered for going on a rampage and killing the Ruler of Greed, the Ruler of Humility, and the Ruler of Wrath before Lissandra Hawthorne finally perished during her challenge of the Ruler of Pride.”

He finishes that statement and looks at me as if gauging whether I consider my question answered.

Though I want to learn more—much more—I hold back my curiosity. Given how generous he’s been in his responses, I interpret it as a sign of goodwill on his part.

After all, we have plenty of time left. There will be more opportunities to ask.

***

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