Chapter 12
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High above the gargantuan white bone coliseum, a captivating aquatic creature glides through the air with a serene, otherworldly elegance.
The anthracite, jet-black goldfish possesses a golden sheen that glistens against its scales and silky fins, its form offering a fascinating study in textures.
Suspended in the atmospheric expanse, the creature is framed by a quiet, dynamic environment, moving through the silent heights with the grace of an otherworldly spirit.
Its round, plump body is adorned with perfectly layered, pitch-black scales that catch the ambient light, shimmering softly with a golden luster at every subtle turn.
Deep, azure, expressive eyes peer out from a smooth, classic face, observing the realm with a tranquil calm.
The true spectacle lies in its magnificent fins; They trail behind the delicate swimmer like sheer silk ribbons caught in a gentle, slow-motion breeze, sprawling outward in grand, sweeping arcs.
The massive tail ripples and folds over itself, resembling an expansive, translucent gown performing an endless, weightless dance.
Each fragile ridge and vein within the flowing appendages is meticulously detailed. As it suspends itself in the skies, it dances gracefully and eloquently through the air before turning illusory and vanishing into nothingness.
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Deep within the thick travertine walls of the amphitheater lies a secret, spacious chamber.
The cubiculum offers a cool, sensory contrast to the sun-baked, blood-soaked arena outside.
Smooth slabs of polished Numidian obsidian and deep red porphyry marble line the lower half of the walls, reflecting the flickering, warm , blue glow of oil lamps shaped like mythical beasts.
Above the marble wainscoting, the plaster walls come alive with vibrant frescoes, where delicate architectural illusions, sprawling green landscapes, and golden-hued depictions of twenty deities seem to expand the enclosed room.
The air carries the heavy, sweet scent of burning frankincense and myrrh, expertly masking the distant, metallic tang of blood and viscera wafting up from the hypogeum below.
The floor forms a flawless tapestry of opus sectile mosaic, its sharp geometric tiles of green Spartan basalt and white Carrara marble laid out in hypnotic, repeating squares.
At the center of this opulent stillness rests the imperial bisellium—a double-width throne of dark, polished black-wood inlaid with shimmering tortoiseshell and ivory, piled high with plush cushions of Tyrian purple silk.
When the heavy, gold-fringed velvet drapes at the room's threshold are drawn shut, the deafening roar of fifty thousand spectators subsides into a muffled, rhythmic thrumming, transforming the chamber into a silent, shadowy sanctuary.
A human silhouette sits upon the imperial bisellium, its graceful face leaning against the palm of its left hand.
It is an exquisite, almost terrifyingly perfect androgynous figure. The entity possesses the build of a mature adult male, but its skin glistens with a flawless, radiant golden luster.
It wears a traditional white linen chiton and himation, its head adorned with a sacred, shimmering laurel wreath. Draped over its shoulders is a gold-gleaming chlamys, the edges of which dissolve into translucent, shifting veils that mimic the flow of pure aether.
But its eyes remain the most striking feature... they are literal mirrors, reflecting nothing but the exact image of whoever dares to look into them.
The entity practically radiates the heavy, suffocating pressure of a learned scholar, completely drenched in an overwhelming aura of pure, unadulterated curiosity.
Neither living flesh nor wraiths can look away; the figure is so unnaturally radiant that it acts like a visual tractor beam, forcing all eyes to remain fixed on its perfect features.
In front of this figure hovers an illusory, corporeal miniature projection of a stage, surrounded by a ringed sea of crimson.
One side of the stage resembles a pit made of fine white sand and black glass. Standing atop that sand is the lone figure of a man, a conical hat adorned upon his head, with bandages wrapping the parts of his skin left uncovered by his robes.
The figure seated upon the imperial bisellium seems deeply interested in this man with the conical hat. After all, the mortal has just performed an action the golden faced, silhouette did not expect.
On the opposite side of the stage lie deep, terrifying crevices, scattered rock, and debris. Upon a fairly flat section of the plateau, two human figures lie motionless... one male, one female.
The golden silhouette watches them silently, looking down at the young maiden as a gentle, humble, fatherly smile forms on its graceful face. Its expression is one of pure solace.
With a soft sigh, it traces its gaze to the male human a few paces away from her. The young man possesses dual-colored hair, and body-wide birthmarks stretch across his torso.
The silhouette focuses its gaze entirely upon the male human, peering deep into his soul body.
Apart from what it noticed earlier, it focuses on the astral projection of a portion of the human's soul. That astral projection is currently incased within the golden-faced silhouette's nested domain, Engram Chōra.
The human on the stage remains unconscious, alive but entirely unresponsive, currently facing the severe repercussions of ryoku depletion.
The silhouette is intrigued by this individual but chooses not to investigate further. It has no reason to, anyway. Until...
Without knowing why, and without feeling any alarm, it receives a sudden premonition—a flash of awareness whispering of a possible boon that would arise if it were to perceive deeper.
It does not doubt this feeling, nor does it assume the instinct is wrong. Its premonitions have never once been mistaken. Never.
So for what reason would it doubt itself now? Having none, it chooses to look much more thoroughly.
A thin, incorporeal, lustrous, and loose perceptual thread is intertwined with the astral projection stuck within its nested domain. The end of the thread seems completely imperceptible as it reaches upward toward the heavens.A wide, playful grin appears on the golden face of the silhouette.
"Hahaha, clever woman... should I assume you intend for me to take the bait?" the silhouette chuckles, speaking to the empty room.
It stretches out a hand, touching the thin, incorporeal, loose perceptual thread intertwined with the astral projection.
The moment its fingers brush the strand and infuse its own ryoku into it, the figure slowly turns illusory and vanishes.
Simultaneously, a captivating anthracite goldfish, with its golden sheen glistening against its scales and silky fins, appears. It swims through the air, for a moment, then, turning incorporeal, and vanishes as well.
The cubiculum returns to its serene, cold, and silent emptiness.
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In a vast white plane, large pillars are spaced throughout the landscape, extending into the white haze above.
The floor consists of a wide expanse of pale stone with no visible edges. Above it, the structural, gargantuan pillars give off a deeply ancient feeling.
A human silhouette slowly turns corporeal and lusory. The golden-faced, androgynous figure finds itself standing within this boundless white expanse.
The figure whistles, seemingly impressed. It looks around for a moment just as an anthracite goldfish slowly turns lusory, gracefully dancing and swimming through the air.
The golden-faced figure looks at the goldfish-like creature and then looks away. It pays the creature little attention, having no immediate reason to do so, yet it finds the entity's presence remarkably soothing.
Perhaps it is due to the graceful dance it performs while gliding through the air, or the cool, relaxing gust of wind that follows every stroke of its fins.
"Oh, if it isn't the great thousand-eyed witness, Mnemoscopus."
"To what do I owe the pleasure of your visage?"
The voice is cool, regal, and laced with an effortless authority. He spins around to find a woman with long, flowing hair and a piercing gaze watching him from a distance.
She sat upon a white Victorian wrought-iron garden swing adorned with intricate scrollwork and filigree. Held gently in her right hand is a steaming cup of tea.
In front of her, stands a small, round, white garden table of a similar design to the swing. A cylindrical cup rests on the side furthest from her, steam still rising from it, bellowing its rich aroma into the air.
Next to the small round table stands another empty Victorian wrought-iron garden swing, a soft white cushion resting on its seat.
The entire scene is nestled within a garden of white grass and white plants. It was world of pure white. And in the distance, those gargantuan pillars continued to project their ethereal, ancient presence.
The captivating anthracite goldfish appears once more, gliding toward Noburu, who pays it no direct attention. She does, however, find it strangely soothing.
"Oh my, please drop the pleasantries, Goddess of Traversal, Noburu Tenjo," Mnemoscopus answers, a grin spreading across his face.
Mnemoscopus then proceeds to walk toward the empty Victorian wrought-iron garden swing. As he steps forward, a trail of vibrant color paints the white flora; the white plants turn a lush green, and the white grass follows suit. Even the rose bushes see their blossoms turn a bright, vivid red.
Mnemoscopus leaves a trail of brilliant color across a realm that otherwise resembles a giant, white canvas.
The moment he sits upon the Victorian swing, the white iron turns to obsidian with purple accents, while the cushion beneath him shifts to a deep crimson.
He lifts the cup of tea, taking a deep breath to enjoy the aroma before proceeding to take a slow sip. Holding the cup, he asks,
"Quite a lavish place you have going on, Noburu.I wonder why I hadn't been invited all this time?"
Noburu Tenjo takes a sip from her own cup, her expression indifferent until a small smile appears on her soft, red lips.
"Let's get to business, Mnemoscopus... what exactly , do you want?"
A grin plays on Mnemoscopus's golden face, and he chuckles. "Always straight to the point, huh? Learn to loosen up from time to time." He pauses, adjusting his posture.
"Regardless, I should be asking you that very same question. You're the Goddess of Traversal, after all."
Mnemoscopus gestured toward his dazzling, eye-catching eyes.
"The loose, intricate, perceptual thread, though hidden well, cannot escape my gaze. I hold a rather massive share of the 'Authority of Perception' . Even though you possess a share of the 'Authority of Perception and a rather large share of the 'Authority of Traversal', I strongly doubt you are that careless."
"Careless?" Noburu interjects, raising a single eyebrow.
"Leaving such a thread that connects to you laying carelessly around, and it being well within my domain, for that matter.
Furthermore, I shouldn't be seated here in front of you; it is well within your power to revoke my entry into this place. So tell me, ...what is the little scheming goddess, plotting?"
Mnemoscopus raises his cup to take another sip, tracing his gaze back to Noburu.
Above their heads, the gliding anthracite goldfish drifts past them with effortless grace. A soft gust of wind blows by, causing the swings to sway slightly.
Noburu remains silent for a moment. She shrugs, then speaks. "Well, To be honest, I wondered why you didn't revoke my perception of the engram Chōra, so I simply maintained it. And indeed, I could have easily blocked your entry to this place."
"Well? Then why didn't you?" he asks.
Noburu takes a sip of tea before responding.
"Let's say I had a premonition that used meeting, would be beneficial." She glances at Mnemoscopus, tilting her head and pinching her chin thoughtfully.
Crossing her legs, she continues, "Anyways, now that you're here, let's talk business... I need a favor. I need you to maintain the nested domain, the engram Chōra, for the time being."
A brief pause hangs in the air.
"As well as make a contract with Kurael. I need to keep an eye on him through you."
Mnemoscopus leans back, raising his index finger. "For the first request... I agree, on one condition, however... You have to maintain the connection with Kuroshiraga, since them leaving my area of influence will delay the feed and loosen the connection. I prefer watching my show with crisp visuals!"
Mnemoscopus then raises a second finger and continues, "Regarding the second request, I was already planning on doing so ,anyway. So, I have no other conditions apart from the one I have already mentioned."
His expression becomes serene and distant, and he lets out a quiet sigh.
"I, too, have my reasons to keep an eye on him."
"Oh?" Noburu adds, taking another sip from her cup. "Then I guess we have a deal."
To the side of the Victorian swing, the figure of a tall man turns corporeal. Beside her now stands a refined older man in an elegant tuxedo. Within his hand, he holds a kettle, steam whistling softly from its nozzle.
He pours the steaming liquid into Noburu's cup, then sets the kettle upon the small round table.
While Mnemoscopus looks down at his cup, he traces his sight over to see who placed the kettle on the table.
His golden face pales, and his lustrous, reflective eyes widen. His expression is a mix of absolute shock and a hint of terror.
He looks at Noburu Tenjo, then looks right back at the prestigious old man in the elegant tuxedo.
"Ug... um... O... Old man? Sir, what a surprise to see you... here..."
Mnemoscopus looks down at his bare wrist, palming his face as he nervously proclaims,
"My... haha, would you look at the time. I must take my leave b—"
Before he can even complete his sentence, his figure turns entirely illusory and vanishes from the realm. Above their heads, the anthracite goldfish also turns illusory, slowly fading from view.
Oliver Kurosu looks up, seemingly paying close attention to the strange aquatic creature as it disappears. He then looks down at Noburu as she indifferently takes another sip of her tea.
He asks in his deep, distinguished voice,
"That is quite a peculiar, unique creature, is it not?"
Noburu nods her head in agreement. "Are you referring to the floating anthracite fish?... If so, then, yeah... I agree. It kindly eased the tension. It was rather... soothing." She takes another sip.
Oliver chuckles, a reminiscent expression crossing his features. "Mnemoscopus does have a tendency to collect intriguing things. He has quite an eye for them."
Noburu almost chokes on her tea. She looks up at Oliver, and Oliver looks back down at her.
They both burst into laughter.
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Deep within the thick travertine walls of the white bone coliseum, back inside the secret, spacious chamber, Mnemoscopus's figure slowly turns luminous and corporeal.
He takes a seat upon his double-width throne of dark, polished black-wood, sinking into the plush cushions of Tyrian purple silk.
He lets out a heavy sigh, leaning back to stare up at the ceiling. His expression is one of deep reminiscence.
"I didn't expect to see the old man... if it wasn't for that rather interesting fish, I would have passed out on the spot, haha."
Mnemoscopus leans forward, tilting his head and pinching his chin. 'When I have the time, I should ask where she found such a specimen,' he muses internally.
"Next time.i guess "
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High above the gargantuan white bone coliseum, the captivating aquatic creature glides through the air with its serene, otherworldly elegance.
The anthracite, jet-black goldfish, with the golden sheen glistening against its scales and silky fins, drifts effortlessly.
Its massive tail ripples and folds over itself, resembling an expansive, translucent gown performing an endless, weightless dance.
It dances gracefully and eloquently high in the air, before turning completely illusory and vanishing from sight.