After the classes ended, I didn't head to the training hall like the others. Instead, I locked myself in my room. My thoughts were racing as I sat on the bed, staring at nothing in particular.
When I was ready, I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. With a simple command in my mind, I entered the Repository.
The space around transford into an endless realm of black and white blocks, stretching as far as I could see. It was quiet, eerily so, but the kind of quiet that put my mind at ease. I walked forward and took my seat on the throne that appeared before . As I sat, I transford into Mr. White, the form I always used here—a manifestation of calm and control.
"The spirit world is corrupted by specters now," I muttered to myself, recalling what Professor Walton had said earlier. "Unlike in the past, it's nearly impossible to peer into it safely."
I leaned back in the throne, my fingers tapping against the armrest as a thought crossed my mind. I could have told Sir Martin about the spectral eyes... but if I can master them here, I won't need his guidance.
With that resolve, I summoned a white block to serve as a mirror. My reflection stared back at , calm yet determined. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what was to co, and activated my eyes. Slowly, the color of my irises began to shift, gaining a yellowish hue.
For a mont, I braced myself for the worst—the ravings, the murmurs of madness that were supposed to co with the use of these eyes. But nothing happened.
"Thank God," I whispered, a wave of relief washing over . I opened my eyes fully, expecting to see sothing extraordinary.
Nothing.
The world around remained the sa, the only difference being that the colors seed slightly darker, tinted with shades of grey.
I chuckled, shaking my head. "The Repository really is sothing else. It's like a godly space, completely isolated."
Still, I wasn't satisfied. I decided to push further, using the Repository's unique connection to the outside world. Channeling my focus, I projected my consciousness outward, letting the Repository act as a dium.
Before , a screen of fog appeared, slowly clearing to reveal the outside world.
The mont my spectral eyes focused on it, I was montarily blinded by a flood of saturated colors. They converged and shifted constantly—bright reds turning into pinks, then blues, and so on. It was overwhelming but srizing at the sa ti.
I squinted, adjusting to the chaotic view. My body, sitting cross-legged on the bed, ca into focus on the screen. It looked lifeless, like a puppet. Surrounding it, particles of various colors floated gently, emitting soft glimrs of light.
"Looks like there's nothing unnatural here," I muttered. "The ones with natural blessings probably have spirits hovering around them. If I step outside, I might see more... but I can't control my body while I'm in this space."
Frustrated but unwilling to take unnecessary risks, I decided to hold off on further exploration.
Sighing, I closed the fog screen and leaned back on the throne. My mind wandered to the events of the day. Reaching out, I summoned my diary, a ntal construct designed to keep tabs on everything I'd learned or experienced.
The pages flipped open, and I scanned my notes. "Nothing significant has happened recently. My progress is slow, but... that's to be expected. The start is always slow," I murmured, reassuring myself.
I paused, my eyes lingering on a particular entry. It was about the symbols and the contract with the Death Specter—the very things that had brought here.
"How did the original Lukas co up with those?" I wondered aloud. My thoughts drifted to his past. After his mother's death, soone had saved him—a figure who was both a ntor and a mystery. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't recall their na or face.
"All I rember is pain," I whispered. "Torture, agony... it's like my mind blocked everything else out."
That thought gave pause. How did I even stay sane through all of that? Or rather, was I even sane?
I let out a bitter laugh. "Maybe there's sothing wrong with after all."
To separate myself from Lukas, I'd always relied on small acts—mocking his weak-willed nature, joking about his pauper appearance. It was like a ntal anchor, keeping from fully rging with his identity.
"I don't like this look," I muttered, glaring at my reflection in the diary's surface. "It screams 'sugar mommy's kept man.'"
Shaking off the thought, I focused on the task at hand. "I can use the Repository to uncover the truth about the Death Specter."
With that, I rested my head against the throne and directed the space's energy to dive into my consciousness. It was a strange sensation, like invisible hands reaching into the depths of my mind, pulling at hidden mories.
At first, it was calm. Then—
CRUNG!
The sound echoed through the Repository, snapping out of my trance. My eyes shot open, wide with horror. My body was drenched in cold sweat, and a shiver ran down my spine.
I looked ahead, expecting to see a vivid replay of my mories. Instead, I was t with a blank screen.
"What the hell?" I whispered, my voice shaky.
I stood up from the throne, staring at the emptiness in disbelief. It wasn't just blank—it was like the mory had never existed.
"It's gone..." I muttered. "How is this even possible?"
For a mont, I just stood there, my mind racing with questions. The blankness felt more sinister than anything I'd ever encountered. It wasn't just an absence; it was an erasure.
"Just what the hell is buried in my past?" I whispered, my hands clenched into fists.
Whatever it was, it wasn't going to let itself be uncovered easily. And that only made more determined to find out.
As I fell into deep thought, I noticed another presence there.
"Ohh!he is here.I should take a look."
.....
The library was quiet, a vast expanse of towering shelves filled with books that slled of old paper and secrets. Ashton sat amidst a chaotic pile of tos, scanning through one with intense focus. His brows furrowed, his fingers occasionally brushing over words as if to absorb their aning. Around him, the scattered books ford a small fortress of knowledge.
I appeared silently, observing from a distance, hidden behind my white mask. The sight of Ashton so deeply engrossed in study made chuckle inwardly. But I wasn't here just to watch.
"What are you doing?" My voice cut through the stillness, startling him.
Ashton looked up, his expression briefly startled before he masked it with calm composure. He didn't answer imdiately, rely giving a sidelong glance as if assessing whether I was worth responding to.
"Do I need to answer that?" he finally said, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
"Of course, you can't," I replied with an exaggerated sigh, shrugging theatrically. "You see, it's dreadfully boring being alone in this vast place. I need sothing to keep entertained, but here you are, ignoring and leaving to suffer in solitude. How cold of you."
He shook his head, clearly unimpressed by my antics, and held up the book he had been reading. "I'm studying about Warlocks and Dark Mages."
I tilted my head slightly, rubbing my chin in mock thought. "Warlocks and Dark Mages? And what brought that to your attention?"
Ashton leaned back, closing the book with a soft thud. "I've been reading about them for hours now. Most Dark Mages seem to partake in sacrifice rituals. They don't exactly appear friendly or trustworthy."
"That's not surprising," I said, nodding. "Dark Mage pathways are heavily tied to death. Their rituals demand sacrifices—life in exchange for power. And when they move up the chain, many transition into Warlocks."
"Warlocks?" Ashton echoed, his voice tinged with curiosity.
"Yes, Warlocks. They're the ones who form pacts with external beings, usually creatures that embody darkness or death. These beings—specters, wraiths, and sotis high-level abyssal entities—grant the Warlocks their power. It's a deal of mutual benefit, though the cost is rarely small."
Ashton's lips curled in disgust. "That sounds vile. Absolutely repulsive."
I shrugged, spreading my arms in a dramatic gesture. "It's the structure of the world, my friend. Like it or not, it is what it is."
He shook his head again, falling silent for a mont. His gaze drifted toward the shelves, as if searching for answers among the books. Finally, he turned back to , his expression thoughtful.
"Why would anyone create sothing so… evil?" he asked, his voice quiet but filled with genuine curiosity.
I blinked, caught off guard by the question. "Huh?"
"I an, when the Goddess created the world, why would she include evil? Why create negative emotions at all?"
Behind my mask, I fought the urge to laugh out loud. 'Is this guy serious? What is he, a philosopher in disguise?'
"Are you even sure the Goddess created the world?" I asked, trying to keep my voice neutral but playful.
Ashton's eyes widened, and he leaned forward slightly. "What did you just say?"
"I an what I said," I replied, folding my arms. "You seem to believe everything the priests say about the Goddess creating the world. But have you ever stopped to question it? To think, maybe there's more to the story than what they preach?"
"That's blasphemy!" he snapped, sitting upright and glaring at .
I waved a hand dismissively. "It's not blasphemy. It's perspective. Look, I'm not saying the priests are lying, but do you really think they know the full truth? Have you ever heard the old folklore about the One—an omniscient being from whom everything originated? The Gods we worship now supposedly ca from the One and created order from chaos. But so of them ca later, didn't they?"
Ashton frowned, his curiosity overcoming his indignation. "You're saying the history we know isn't complete?"
"Exactly," I said, nodding. "You only know what you've been told. Do you really think you've been told everything? History is written by those in power. The truth often gets lost in the process."
He looked down, his fingers tapping idly on the book in his lap. "If that's true… where can I find the real history?"
"I know people who know the truth," I said cryptically, keeping my voice low and mysterious.
"Who are they?" Ashton asked, leaning closer.
I smiled behind the mask, though inwardly I was cursing myself. Why had I started this conversation? Now I had to keep up the act.
"You'll et them at the etings," I said finally.
"What etings?"
"The etings of the mbers," I replied, my tone vague.
"When are they held?"
I felt a bead of sweat form under my mask. I hadn't thought this far ahead. Clearing my throat, I said, "When He decides the ti."
"Who is He?" Ashton pressed, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.
"You'll know when the ti cos," I said quickly, taking a step back. "Now, if you'll excuse , I have other matters to attend to."
"Wait!" Ashton called, standing up. But I was already turning away, disappearing into the shadows before he could stop .
---
As I reappeared in the quiet of my own space, my heart was pounding. I reached up to adjust my mask, feeling the cool air against my flushed skin.
"That was too close," I muttered to myself, pacing back and forth. "I need to pull so people into this place, and fast. Otherwise, my loose mouth is going to get into trouble."
The mory of Ashton's wide-eyed curiosity made groan. "Curse my own theatrics. Why couldn't I just keep it simple?"
But even as I complained to myself, a small smile tugged at my lips. Despite the risk, there
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