But some things did not add up. There was Slim, his oddities and how he knew what my name meant. He said he joined up with Erzili because they had a common goal. Did Slim also desire to coexist with humans? It didn’t sound that way. So, what then, was his goal?
The King of Nightmares…
I wanted to laugh at the title. It sounded like something an overly imaginative child would come up within a story. Yet, Erzili believed that because I was a Demiurge, I could be King. I didn’t quite believe it, but I was willing to try. To attempt. If only, because I valued my life, and wanted to make something of myself, the second time around.
[You have unlocked the suitable conditions for evolution.]
[Would you like to Evolve?]
[Yes]
[No]
For the first time in a long while, I could feel optimistic about my future. Things were changing. Things were being set in motion. And if I wanted to advance, I needed to change along with it.
[Evolution Commencing]b
Interlude - I: Caution
She was terrified of a fourteen-year-old. The harder she tried not to flinch upon his gaze, the quicker the action of flinching came. She attributed the rapid pounding of her heart to adrenaline, and, as her master had taught her through a simple one-time instruction with no repetition, she rationalized that the golden-haired boy in front of her would not kill her.
His purple eyes were half-lidded, his expression neither one of aggression nor hostility. His uniform, sparkling with medals indicated that the boy in front of her was someone who would, or rather, should be on her side. Yet, it was that utter lack of interest beneath those half-lidded eyes, that monotonous gaze which rendered upon her the distinct sensation of a weed underneath the feet of a gazelle, that feeling that she existed and lived only by his whim alone – that was what terrified her.
“Irritating.” Came her master’s voice. “If the ogling of my amanuensis is the reason you interrupted my research, Hoplite –”
“Do you never tire of new faces Soph?” the boy’s voice was whisper-like. Eerie. It was louder than a whisper certainly, yet, not loud enough to be considered the standard speaking volume. “What happened to Velma?”
“Deceased.”
“And Militia before her?” Hoplite asked.
“Indisposed.”
“And Lucia, with the lightning scars?”
“Is there a point to your questions?”
Hoplite’s half-lidded eyes displayed no change at the information. She found it incredibly difficult to maintain eye-contact, and even more so to hide the announcements of the fates that belayed her predecessors.
“I also remember Astra, Riata and Freia – the one who attempted to elope with your doorkeeper.” Hoplite said. “I liked her. She always knew the right place to get my chips.” The High Eminent of War turned to her. “You, Soph’s newest. What is your name?”
She felt her heart squeeze in her chest at the question. “My name is Cynthia, your Eminence.”
“Do you know where to get the best plantain chips?”
Her master muttered under his breath. “Vexing. If you kill another one of my amanuenses over your ridiculous obsession with plantains –”
“Plantain chips.” Hoplite corrected immediately. His hands were already moving upwards. “And if she doesn’t know –”
“Warehouse 91, your eminence.”
The boy’s hand went down. “Ah. Good. Now, do I prefer soft chips, or crunchy ones?”
Cynthia felt her heart squeeze in her chest a second time, and she understood that it was not just a feeling. “C-crunchy ones, your Eminence –”
“And why are crunchy chips the best?”
The tightening grew worse. It was harder to breathe than ever. Hard to even stand. “B-because – it – it irritates other High Eminents, and s-scares people weaker t-than you w-when t-they hear the s-sound.”
The tightening sensation vanished. The half-lidded eyes of the High Eminent of War remained as half-lidded as it did before. Cynthia knew immediately that she was not wrong to fear him. She knew, and she understood, that had this fourteen-year-old boy wished her dead, not even her Master could have stopped it from happening.
Hoplite Hierophantasia was one of the most powerful people in all of Alhamis. Amidst the Ten High Eminents, only two others could hold a candle to him, and even then, he far outstripped them because he was fourteen years old. The boy that could kill her with a blink was not yet in his prime.
“You,” Hoplite said. “You might be the first of Sophos’ amanuenses to not die miserably.”
What was she to make of that? “Thank you, your Eminence.”
“Tremendously irritating,” her master said. “Hoplite, your reason for coming?”
Floating, five inches above the ground as all High Eminents did, Hoplite Hierophantasia moved with his hands behind his back, examining the works she and her master were creating. Technology that would boost the entirety of Alhamis centuries, if not millennia into the future. Something that could and would wipe the nightmares off the face of Alamir forever.
At first, she assumed Hoplite did not know the purpose of any of the technologies in development within the room. Assumed, until she witnessed him pick one up, and fitting of his status as the High Eminent of War, he picked up a small cylindrically shaped device. Small enough to fit into his hands, without effort. She almost rose an alarm upon seeing him examine the button on the center. Seeing his fingers hover near it to push the button, she felt immediate dread.
“Your Eminence, that is –” her show of concern was immediately stifled by her master raising his hand.
Hoplite pushed the button. Cynthia closed her eyes and braced for death. She anticipated a loud flash, a bang, an inexplicable roar from the pushing of a device built with the express purpose of absorbing light and Alamir’s ambient mystic
