Thales had a dry mouth—
as if his brain had drained all the moisture in his body
trying to make sense of the experience he had just endured.
The man, "Sword Saint" Loupe, had briefly departed,
returning to his companion—
who promptly scolded him.
"Thales, you idiot!
Where did you wander off to?
You can't just run away in a place you don't know!
I know you're a kid, but geez.
You're weak, you know."
"No, I'm not.
And anyway, a guard helped me out."
"Guard? Which one? What was their name?"
She raised an eyebrow—
half concerned mother, half detective.
"Um... Loupe was his name."
"Loupe..." she muttered.
"Never heard of the guy."
"Oh. Well, I can point him out—he left not too long ago."
And he did.
Beatrix, as an evolved chaos-child,
could easily track the direction.
She squinted with her one gleaming eye.
"But that isn't a guard uniform..."
"Never mind.
Try not to get involved with strange men, Thales.
Especially as a fledgling."
"Whatever. So what's the plan?"
"Hoho." She looked down at him, smug.
"Don't worry, little lamb. I'll herd you."
"Shut up. Get to the point."
"Well. Do you notice anything strange yet?"
"Vaguely. I have a question—how rare are the fruits of chaos?
Is it standard to have eaten such a fruit?"
"Are you asking if chaos is the traditional system
that defines the way of life?
If so—then yes and no."
"What the heck do you mean, yes and no?"
"It's complicated.
Not everyone has eaten a fruit,
but everyone is connected to someone—
or maybe even something—that has eaten the Verdant Nectare."
**"I think it's even rarer to maintain a pure land,
with their Hegemony Elysium.
Maybe you can one day.
You were born into fated heraldry… but not just that.
You're weird in general.
As if you're a walking *********."
"What was that, Beato?"
"Oh.
Maybe I'm not allowed to say it."
"What a strange girl."
"No, I'm not strange."
"Anyway, you said I think.
That sounded speculative."
"That's because it is.
I don't think anyone who's crawled on these grounds
has permanently shattered their spirit
and yet maintained their individuality
when merging with the divine.
The formula for a Pure Land."
"You're being esoteric again."
"Anyway, how do I get stronger?"
"Well—there's a degree of chaotic determination,
initial sparks of majesty,
and your Epical-genome heritage
is fuelled by your cultivation of your Umwelt as an archetype."
"But…" she waved her hand.
"That's not what we're playing by.
There's a microscopic system.
So that stuff I just said doesn't matter."
"So you're yapping," Thales said with slight annoyance.
The girl started weaving her words again:
"One could say.
But I'm stressing the point of Historia.
I'm flipping over the chessboard for you—
hoping you can intuitively grasp it."
"You were a clever boy.
You should practically be an oracle
after eating your fruit…
but I'm not sure what's happening.
You've digested it long ago
and yet your craving is nonexistent."
"Anyway, what do I do to get stronger as a conduit for chaos?"
"What a good way to put it.
Well, you need to measure your potential.
You need mirrors in reality—
to collapse the possible into the actual."
"The difference between what could be… and what is."
"You honestly suck at explaining.
But I think I get it.
So the trials are pretty much… food."
"A source of nourishment, yes.
You could say that."
"So why am I here?"
"To be frank...
You kind of just have to get it."
"I really thought you, of all people, would immediately feel it.
But you're being a novice.
And it almost seems… intentional."
She said it half-accusatory, half-confused.
"Are there other ways to eat?
I assume so—our House seems unique,
so I presume the general method is different."
"Yes.
They can be found here and in other 'Countries'."
"I see. That's an interesting point.
How many countries are there?"
"Six in the Chaos Cultivator domain.
Six at the moment, anyway.
With a Supreme Leader—
the strongest being,
its ruler, owner,
and will made manifest in the physical."
"That's inconsistent.
You said you don't know if they're alive."
"It's complicated." She dodged the question again.
"I can't even have bread with the scraps you're offering me."
"Well then, let us have some cake." she retorted.
"Madeleine will do.
Yes—and some black tea."
"Whatever.
You've already wasted my time.
Might as well commit to pure sloth."
They sat down at a café.
Beatrix hummed a lullaby again.
Thales bit the cake—
and his eyes widened.
Not from the sweetness,
nor the softness oozing onto his tongue.
But the lullaby.
It scripted itself into his very soul.
"Why is that song so sad to me?"
"It's because you need to learn
to live in a fairy tale, dear boy."
"Okay, loli-hag."
"Hey!" she tried to slap him—he dodged.
"What makes you think I'll give you a hit?
How cliché that would be."
He grinned.
"Of course, if you're a traditional girl
I will allow you to slap me for my non-chivalrous behavior,
but I'll discipline you appropriately in return."
He sipped his tea.
"Ow." he yelped.
"Why so hot?
I nearly bit my tongue."
"The world is mysterious, Thales.
With age comes wisdom on how to navigate it."
She replied with a smug smile.
A shine caught Thales's eye.
A bustling market followed.
He stood from his chair and walked over.
He saw a man flip a crystal of some sort
and pass it to a shopkeeper.
The shopkeeper passed him a capsule.
Thales suddenly felt a burning sensation in the back of his head.
He touched it.
His hair was wet.
"Blood…? Shit..." he whispered, panicked.
His eyes closed.
"Ow." he yelped again.
"Why so hot?
I nearly bit my tongue."
"The world is mysterious, Thales.
With age comes wisdom on how to navigate it."
She replied again, the same smug smile.
What the hell was that?
A vision?
Did that really just happen?
Where am I?
Thales thought—
going off script.