Hours later — hell, maybe even a day or two given his current estrangement with time — Nico felt his communicator buzz in his pocket and managed to snap out of his research-driven daze. Glancing around, he remembered that he'd returned to the waking world to experiment in a more sterile environment.
Still, the area he was in now could hardly be considered "sterile". In fact, it was just a large room in the Song Domain's main compound. Due to the fact that it was being renovated into a spare kitchen, the floors were replaced with tiles, and the entire center was a long steel island with plenty counterspace. No tools, spices, or foods yet littered its pristine surface, so he decided to dump his soon-to-be replicated items onto it instead.
And dump them he had. There was a veritable mountain of copied surgical tools from his basement lab. The ones on the bottom still looked like shabby, malformed variants with strange colors, textures, shapes, masses, sizes, and endless other odd metrics he was used to making, but the rest had slowly grown better and better the higher up he looked. The ones near the top were completely normal.
He was beginning to understand how soul essence formed to become part of an object's being. It was sort of like a shifting geometric shape — a jagged sphere that reminded him of a 3d audio visualizer locked in the stasis of one large wave. All he had to do was carefully reform that pattern, replicate the density of soul essence throughout different areas of the volume, cradle the shape exactly how he wanted it, and, lastly, use his own imagination — his ability to turn a sun of frozen energy into tangible matter.
It was a beautiful experience in its own right: feeling the buzz of power course through his veins, flash beneath his lids, and expel radiantly as essence transformed into a new construct. No one else could see it, watch it, understand it or even interact with it, but he could. It was his skill and his alone. That wouldn't mean anything to Nico, but apparently that cultivation held some sentimental value for Shaman, and due to their current… melding… and a number of other factors related to his Flaw and Attributes, him too.
Out of breath and running on fumes, Nico spared one last glance at his work, thought briefly how he would dispose of it, then took out his communicator from his pocket and started constructing another replica — a light bulb — in his other hand. Unlocking the device after a couple swipes, he clicked on the new notification and opened his messaging app.
Seishan: Mother requests your audience. Meet with her by midnight tonight.
'The Queen?' He frowned, once again wondering as to her motive. 'Could it be… Nephis?'
Ah, that was a whole another topic, wasn't it? Nephis, the changing star of humanity, the one who had fought the Crimson Terror valiantly and not only lived to tell the tale but slew the beast. Nephis, who had unbeknownst to everyone chosen to abandon her companion in the Dream Realm to save herself. Nephis, who had probably never suffered enough loss or pain within her control to recognize that perhaps her ends weren't worth her means.
What might've happened if she had had other failures first? What might've happened if, by her ruthless metric of self-preservation, too many people had died? Nico had sensed all her emotions so deeply that day — so deeply that he knew she despised the Dream Realm, she despised the Supremes, and she despised the Nightmare Spell so much so that it was overwhelming, and while she wanted to do the right thing so much, she put her own safety over all others.
Nico himself had his line. He worked for the betterment of his fellow man. If any, or even one person proved to him that they could make an impact greater than his own over time, then he would willingly fall to Death's door in their place. But, well, there wasn't a lot of people who could meet that criteria, and without trying to sound pompous or arrogant, not many who also owned a Divine Aspect like him either. His power would always be leaps above those his own rank. Nephis herself was a strong contender. Sunless, too, because of his unique soul.
Neither, though, had any real connection to the current power structure. In fact, Nephis was likely to have been slaughtered if she hadn't made such waves with her return and promptly swept up around two hundred and fifty new Awakened's loyalty with her actions on the Forgotten Shore.
Sneaking a glance at the now completed lightbulb in his right hand, he realized he'd both completed his construct first try and been swept away in tangent thoughts.
'Regardless of that.'
The time on his communication displayed just past two in the afternoon. He had to visit the Queen by tonight.
'Time to kill…'
The first thing he did was dispose of his created junk, but that only really took up twenty minutes, and after that… well, what was there to do? No one seemed keen on bothering him about his duties in the Dream Realm or training with his sisters, so he could've done something extracurricular like surfing the web or practicing his music, but…
He was still worried about Shaman. There were answers he need to figure out. First and foremost, he needed to unlock his Relic of Soul. A big step had been made towards that by deciphering his own sort of unique sorcery related to essence, but it didn't feel enough. His new use of his Awakened Ability was more of an interpretation of that, not the knowledge itself.
There had been more of a profound understanding with souls when he had cracked open his Beast Core on the Forgotten Shore.
Nico sighed, laying atop the kitchen island. The metal cooled his skin, seeping through the fabric of his tank top. What was he missing?
He started asking questions.
'What is a soul?'
It's not human consciousness like so many people believe. It's both more and less than that. It's the bridge between spirit and form. It's the purest expression of power. Those who rise in rank deepen the connection between their material body and their spirit until, eventually, they have Ascended and become one in the same. Then, eventually, they transcend, and their soul expands to the world around them. And after that…
He didn't really know.
'What happens during Supremacy? Is that the knowledge I'm missing?'
He frowned, holding his new lightbulb above him. 'No… No, that doesn't feel right.'
The point wasn't to know everything—there was simply far, far too much to learn for that to be possible. Instead, the runes of his Aspect Legacy buzzed in the back of his mind:
[Architect of Being] Description: [The Architects swore a singular oath: creation before destruction, life within death, and growth beyond decay. Their mastery was a timeless craft, not born of division, but by the fostering of their bodies, minds, and spirits into an ever-growing whole. Into one blistering flame.
But when the end came — when the Forest burned, and their ways proved naught but misbegotten — all that remained was time. Time to twist heat into cold. Time to twist day into dusk. Time to twist dusk into the vision of Eternal Dawn.]
The word played again and again, and he was sure they were hinting at some hidden meaning he couldn't quite grasp. So, he looked at what he could easily tell. It seemed that, in the end, the Architects' vision of endlessly dying and repropagating proved insufficient. The Spell wanted him to learn their old ways. Or, rather, did it want him to twist them into something that could benefit his own vision? That's what the second part implied.
'Soul roots…'
Some time ago, he had suspected his Dormant Ability would be able to influence other beings. He had thought: 'Maybe, when I'm an Awakened I could syphon essence from other people.' He had even ended up destroying one of his own Soul Cores through that power.
But they were meant to strengthen, help, and guide. It was a misuse of his abilities. His entire Aspect was catered towards creation. Even the name of his Aspect Legacy was supposed was called [Architect of Being], not destruction.
Then, it was like a gong had rung in his head. The tumultuous winds of the world settled. His vision cleared, and the cold sear of the steel below him began to turn warm.
"Is it really destruction?"
He spoke the words aloud, as if there was another person that might wish to hear him.
But to answer his question: oh no, it wasn't. He had been fed such extraordinary stories that he hadn't even noticed the Architects of the past were no builders at all. The Architects of the past only wished to devour. They only wished to grow more, and more, and more until the world itself was nothing but a never-ending pasture for their gluttony.
Wasn't he just lamenting that effect happening to Shaman?
His Aspect Legacy's name was both a reminder and mockery. Everything was subjected to change. All people, minds, and even souls. In that way, they weren't architects. He was… He who dismantled himself to build back better… He who would wreak death and destruction onto others and build them back better. He didn't just want their kind of assimilation and creation, and that's not what the Spell wished for him either. It wished for him to cultivate a knowledge of souls that could dismantle and repurpose, and if he was a true Architect of Being, then he could do it.
He could succeed the Architects of before.
And the answer to that lie in the very Dormant Ability he had dismissed.