Humans, and the intelligent beings derived from them, are naturally inclined to seek rationality. When they encounter sothing beyond their imagination, if they can't connect it to their logic and understanding, it becos difficult to accept. This leads to countless misunderstandings, even for soone like rem Solomon, one of the oldest Dead Apostles.
Shinji rely demonstrated the transfer of the blood-sucking impulse, and rem automatically analyzed the cause and effect—Arcueid awakened from her slumber, entered the world, t Shinji, and because of Shinji's special ability, took him along. rem also analyzed another question.
"If you have such an ability, why do you still need the Crimson Fruit? Is it because there's a limit to how much impulse you can transfer?"
"No, there's no limit to the impulse that can be transferred. The limit lies with the vessel that bears the impulse. Impulse is like water—the amount it can hold depends on the size of the container. What kind of existence do you think can hold more than a True Ancestor?"
A True Ancestor's ntal power, which can connect thoughts with nature and alter reality through thought, far exceeds human imagination, as does the accumulated impulse.
As a direct Dead Apostle under Crimson Moon, rem knows this better than anyone.
"Indeed, there's no comparison. A human's capacity is like a cup, while the princess is like a reservoir—there's too much of a gap. If anyone could compare to the princess's ntal power, it might be the legendary Third Magician, but they've been gone for many years."
Shinji had considered this as well, but since he hasn't completed the Third Magic, his soul hasn't reached that high level. Currently, he's only at the level of a reservoir, much larger than a cup but still minuscule compared to a reservoir. The first ti he drew out the impulse through magic, he only lasted three seconds.
"However, if the quality is insufficient, you can consider quantity. Humanity's greatest advantage is its numbers. If one isn't enough, ten, a hundred, a thousand, ten thousand, a hundred—"
A Black Key flew past rem, interrupting his speech.
Along with the Black Key ca Ciel's cold voice.
"Humans are not livestock for vampires to raise. Watch your words."
"Don't get so worked up. I was just proposing a possibility."
rem wasn't angry, just symbolically appeasing his companion's mood before continuing.
"Impulse is a ntal impulse, it won't turn humans into vampires. Drinking a little blood won't harm humans either. Isn't that right, Sir Knight?"
"In theory, yes. But you've overlooked a crucial point: the cup is sealed, not open. An individual's consciousness will instinctively reject foreign elents. Almost all ntal operations are about slowly guiding rather than directly interfering. Forcing sothing in is even harder than reading soone else's mory."
"So how did I—?"
"You're different. You were born with the ability to bear others' consciousness and manifest it into reality. If it were those two ladies over there, they would only feel a little discomfort."
rem's existence is unique. Before becoming a Dead Apostle, he was a divine child who could communicate with animals and fulfill wishes—a planet terminal, so to speak. To put it simply, he was a sub-type of Holy Grail, able to fulfill wishes on a smaller scale without the cumberso restrictions of the Fuyuki Greater Holy Grail. People would pray to him, and as long as it was within his capacity, rem could fulfill even a hundred wishes.
Ironically, while rem could fulfill others' wishes, he couldn't fulfill his own. Though he had a god-like ability, his body was just like any other human. To the villagers, he was an extrely convenient tool.
Yes, a tool. rem's life before becoming a Dead Apostle was miserable. He was born in an ignorant village, and after the villagers discovered his ability, they worshipped him as a Divine Child. To prevent him from leaving the village, they cut off his limbs under the pretext that "a god's form should not be the sa as humans'," and kept him in a shrine as a wish machine.
rem should have lived out his life as the villagers' comfort object, but one day, over a decade later, Crimson Moon happened to pass by and was intrigued by his ability.
Crimson Moon declared she would kill all the villagers at dawn, and said:
"If you want to live, use your wishes to defeat ."
Thus, the ga began.
The villagers' wish to reject death was indeed powerful and ugly. Without regard for rem's burden, they continuously conjured powerful divine beasts to challenge Crimson Moon.
But it was clear that none of those things were a match for Crimson Moon. The villagers' wishes were unfulfilled, and by dawn, rem, who had been operating beyond his limits, reached his demise. The remaining villagers cursed both rem and Crimson Moon as they died one by one.
At dawn, with the sun rising, Crimson Moon bites the already dead rem, resurrecting him as a Dead Apostle.
"I did this rely for amusent. Live as you please. You have created several substitutes for your lost limbs, correct? Though the wishes that led to this were ugly, the gods you painted are worthy of the title masterpiece. If they bear the weight of becoming your limbs, they will serve you well."
As if possessed by Crimson Moon's words, rem crafted four statues modeled after the villagers' faiths and granted them the ability to beco his limbs, allowing him to stand in human form for the first ti.
Since then, he swore loyalty only to Crimson Moon, harboring deep admiration for her. After her death, he transferred those feelings to Arcueid.
Even after becoming a Dead Apostle, rem's abilities remained intact. Because of this ability, he beca a distinguished anomaly among the Dead Apostle Ancestors, a collection of beings who valued strange powers. He cherished his ability, trusted it, and often collected others' imaginations, coloring them with his desires. He had done so for a thousand years.
What he hadn't anticipated was that soone else in this world had a similar wish-granting chanism and could use this approach to strike at him.
"Hahaha, so that's another problem. It seems I'll need to carry so specialized tools in the future."
rem's awkward smile slightly improved the mood of his two companions and gave Shinji a chance to speak.
"Since you two ladies are rem's companions and wear the robes of the Church, I assu you are mbers of the Burial Agency? I apologize for not introducing myself earlier. I am—"
Before he could finish, the silver-haired girl began reciting his details.
"I know you. Matou Shinji, seventeen years old, a resident of Fuyuki City, Japan, and a mber of the Matou magus family. Three years ago, you fought alongside the last True Ancestor against the Dead Apostle Ancestor Night of Wallachia as a guardian knight. Your whereabouts before and after that event are unknown. The Director issued an order to investigate you, which hasn't been rescinded."
"Even Narbareck... I don't know whether to cry or feel honored."
Shinji wasn't surprised by this outco. The commotion he caused during that event was too significant. It would be dangerous if the Church ignored it.
"You should cry. No one has ever had a good end after being targeted by the Director."
The silver-haired girl continued her sharp-tongued remarks, "I don't like you, but I dislike the Director even more, so consider this a special warning."
"Thank you. May I ask the nas of you two ladies?"
"Burial Agency, Seventh Seat, Ciel."
"Sa affiliation, substitute mber, Caren Hortensia."
"Oh?"
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