Round Nine: Dreams (Part 1)

The ground rushed toward Forty-Seven at great speed. He crashed hard onto the rough, ash-gray rocks, with no cushioning or protective move. Shards flew everywhere, and cracks spread—like a shot put hitting an ice layer.

“If God taught humans to fly, He should have given them wings,” Forty-Seven said as he climbed out of the pit he’d created, brushing dust off himself. He looked up at Moriel and Kayro, who were descending slowly from the sky like feathers.

“Hey! What are you staring at?” Kayro said with a pout after landing.

“Staring? I’m not Leon!” Forty-Seven retorted.

“You jerk…”

“Enough, Kayro. Strange… where is this place?” Moriel cut off the impending argument decisively. “There’s such a large stretch of land in the Star Realm?”

Before them lay a gray plain shrouded in vast star dust—along with jagged, monstrous-looking peaks ahead. A sudden bright flash illuminated their faces. All three looked up just in time to see a violently spinning vortex of energy erupt above them. As it dissipated, it sent out numerous lightning-like fragments in all directions.

After the lightning, the sky turned a leaden gray, almost identical to the ground, making them wonder if they’d somehow passed through another portal. But the faint glimmer at the horizon told them they were still in the Star Realm.

“I can’t sense anyone else’s presence, and my Eagle Eye skill doesn’t reveal anything useful,” the female mage said thoughtfully, staring at the peaks ahead. “Kayro… did you see this mountain while we were flying?”

“Yes!” Kayro replied puzzledly. “It’s so big!”

Forty-Seven suddenly turned his head to his right, his eyes blazing, as if detecting some ominous presence in the cold wind sweeping across the wasteland. But Moriel felt nothing.

“What’s wrong?” The female mage used “True Sight” to detect any possible illusions, but her vision, filtered through the magic network, showed nothing unusual—just rocks and mountains as usual.

Forty-Seven scanned the area for a moment, then scratched his head, his fingers making a clicking sound as they traced the metal pipes on his back. “No, nothing… Come on, let’s go check out the mountain.”

“Climbing a mountain? My shoes aren’t suitable!” Kayro looked down at her feet beneath her dress, then at the gray peaks, her voice tinged with hesitation she probably didn’t even realize—“Besides, what’s so interesting about climbing? I don’t like that mountain either… it’s weird.”

“Childish thoughts,” Forty-Seven sneered at Kayro’s concerns. “In fifty years, when you look back on this day, won’t you regret it?”

“Wait.” Seeing Forty-Seven take a step forward, Moriel hesitated. She was uninterested in the exploration task forced upon them by the Gith, but the mysteries of this place subtly attracted her as a mage.

The Star Realm, on one hand, vastly amplified her mind and perception, allowing her spirit to truly transcend and control her body at will; on the other hand, it greatly restricted the scope of her magical abilities, especially making the prophecy spells that female mages excelled at even more difficult to use. It’s hard to understand, but this is the Star Realm—where consciousness holds infinite possibilities and intuition governs reality. Moriel recalled the spells she had prepared and selected one that might help her at this moment: “At the very least, I need to find some way to understand the situation—I certainly don’t like wandering around in the dark.” The female mage stepped aside, moving a little farther away from Forty-Seven and Kayro. She traced a twisted magical symbol on the ground with the tips of her feet; it resembled several snakes entangled together. Power flowed with her movements, etching itself into the uneven rocks, with sparks occasionally bursting forth. Then Moriel began to whisper the incantation. She used a rhythmic, continuous tone to ensure that before the magic generated by one word faded, a new wave of energy followed, forming a long chain that linked together, piercing through the Star Realm, across numerous planes, and reaching into hidden, distant realms. The spell was long and intricate, enough to make one drowsy just by listening; Forty-Seven could hardly imagine how she could recite such a complex text without the help of a memory chip. An ancient name, long lost in most material realms, was clearly spoken from Moriel’s lips. Of course, there were other options, but the female mage believed the rest either wouldn’t provide the answers she needed or were too powerful and cunning to engage in an open, equal conversation. That name was immediately sent through the channel created by the spell, touching upon some existence deep within the multiverse. It didn’t like this unreasonable intrusion, but usually ignored it, too lazy to punish the ignorant fool on the other end—after all, the mortal races of the material realms were nothing more than ants beneath human feet in its eyes—except this time. The call was weak but firm, and the caster’s mental net had already firmly captured a part of its essence. Of course, it could choose to break free or even retaliate, but considering the unnecessary energy loss that would result and the likely conflict with a high-level mage… though ants were insignificant, one still had to be careful of deadly venomous insects. The spell took effect. The magic circle on the ground became vivid, and a burst of flames shot upward toward Moriel. The lingering smoke from the sparks gradually coalesced into a blurred face, its features barely discernible. “Three questions,” the face floating in the air said quickly, its voice tired and indifferent. “Whoa! Are you the God of Lights?” Forty-Seven looked at the face in surprise. He really hadn’t expected Moriel to be able to create a query system—even if it was just a trial version. “No. Two questions.” The face didn’t even look at him. Since the mage who summoned it was surrounded by fools, it should have expected this.

“Huh? That can’t count, right? He’s talking nonsense!” Kairo, who was eagerly waiting for Moriel to click ‘Next’, grew impatient.

“It counts. One question.” The smoke forming the face trembled slightly; presumably, the face made a mocking expression.

Thus, the female mage, who had just cast a spell and hadn’t yet fully pulled her mind back from exploring distant other worlds, seemed to have only one last chance to ask a question.

Just as Moriel was about to speak, she suddenly stepped back and quickly covered her face with her hand.

Whether it was dispersed by a roar or burned by flames, in any case, Si Forty-Seven raised his hand and fired, wiping it away instantly. Expressionless and ignoring the ringing in others’ ears, he said, “Summon it again.”

Moriel coughed and waved her hand to dispel the pungent smell of gunpowder around them. “Hey, really. It won’t leave until the spell ends, and you can’t really do anything to it unless… stop doing this.”

“Lowly reptiles!” An angry voice came from beneath their feet. The face reformed in the magic circle atop the rugged rocks, larger and clearer this time. The dark gray rocks were activated by forces from the depths of darkness, looking like a rather shoddy sculpture.

“It is you who offered your strength and made the request! And I, generously, have responded by descending to answer your doubts—all in accordance with the great laws of exchange in the multiverse!” The face tilted slightly to gaze at Moriel, its two dark, abyssal eye sockets glowing with a light not of this universe. “Do you think your meager strength can force me to endure this? If you don’t understand how the laws work, go learn more. Don’t dare challenge them with ignorance!”

Si Forty-Seven grasped the armor on his right forearm with his left hand, pulled it back toward his elbow, and snapped it back into place with a crack. During this time, the mechanical parts in his arm found their new positions, and two dark gun barrels emerged from the joints of his fist. “Unfortunately, I believe guns are more reliable than laws. Because they aren’t misinterpreted, nor do they stay silent when needed.”

The face glanced at Si Forty-Seven. For some reason, its gaze lingered on that terrifyingly activated metal armor—the look of contempt gradually fading. Eventually, the face ignored his offensive words and simply said, “Be careful, kid. Don’t step on me.”

It turned back to Moriel.

“You are very powerful compared to humans, Prophet Mage.” Then it added, “But be aware—since you chose to summon me here instead of coming to my realm to contact me… make haste. Ask your three questions quickly.”

The female mage couldn’t help but smile. Si Forty-Seven’s threat had worked, or rather, it realized that this guy would carry out his words without hesitation, regardless of who or what it was.

“Please forgive my offense, but we need your guidance now, Eternal Decipherer. My friend and I are about to begin exploring this star island. Are there any dangers here that could threaten our lives?” she asked.

“Stupid question,” the stone face judged mercilessly. “Even picnics carry risks, silly girl. But if you’re looking for the highest probability based on all known factors, then I can tell you that the biggest danger here right now is your Iron Samurai.”
Its response was rather lengthy, not the usual reaction of an entity unperturbed by such spells. But Moriel’s intuition told her it wasn’t lying. That was what mattered most. And since it had ruled out the possibility of the worst happening, the next question could be adjusted.
“Thank you. Then, are there any things I need to be especially careful about during our journey?” This question might be refused, as it sought too much information, likely beyond what could be answered in a sentence or two. But that didn’t matter. If that was the case, she could gauge its limits, and with careful wording, she wouldn’t waste another chance to ask.
“The Star Realm is a land of the mind, so of course you must pay special attention to your own mind,” the questioned entity replied unexpectedly. “Stay true to your heart, seer… nothing exists outside the heart.”
Moriel cursed inwardly. She had misjudged—this vague answer offered little real help. Pressing further was pointless; it could easily dodge with another such reply, leaving her only one more chance.
She glanced around. She hadn’t gotten an answer from Forty-Seven about what to do—he was stroking the barrel of his gun; he never gave answers, nor did he need them. But Kayro, who was looking down at the stone face, gave the mage a hint.
“What is this place? I mean, the island beneath our feet can’t just be a slightly larger rock. Tell me, what essence does its existence reflect?”
The stone face remained silent for a moment. The light in its eyes flickered violently, as if trying to burst out of its sockets to examine the material that made it up.
“I can’t answer you,” it replied again, with an answer Moriel hadn’t expected. “Of course, I could also deceive you… it’s very simple, but out of my noble character, I refuse to do so. You must understand, human mage, sometimes answers can only be found by yourself, and only then can they be the answers you need. Nothing is predetermined, so prophecy is never as reliable as fireballs. You should understand that.”
“Well, this pointless exchange is over now,” the stone face declared finally, unequivocally. “Go do your own thing now. Stop bothering me.”
A blinding flash lit up along the edges of the spell circle—the circle collapsed, and the stone face shattered into a pile of tiny stones. The Decipherer had left.
“That bastard’s answer is just as empty and worthless as the senator’s promises,” Forty-Seven said disdainfully, stepping on the pile of debris with his heel. “I suggest next time you make sure to ask in a way that makes them seem omniscient.”
“Omniscient?” Kayro repeated doubtfully. “What’s that?”

Moriel was still pondering that last unanswered question. Why had the decoder refused to answer? Did he not know either? That seemed unlikely… Could there be some hidden mystery behind it?
Forty-seven probably thought it was too troublesome to explain to Kayro what kind of amazing creature he was, so he pretended not to hear and turned to look at the female mage, waiting for her decision.
“Let’s go, go up the mountain and take a look.” This time, Moriel found a sense of reassurance in the iron-gray face of the armored warrior—just as the decoder had said, do it and never accept an answer that doesn’t suit you.