Defiance of the Fall

Chapter 1335: Omnipresence

Kadel paused his work to wipe away the beading sweat on his forehead. A wayward drop could introduce heterodoxy to the fragile components, ruining hours of work. He couldn’t afford any more mistakes, whether personal or professional. He’d staked everything—his and his family’s reputation, his endowment, and his future in the Seat of Truth—to silence the overwhelming opposition.

It was time.

The world fractured into countless threads that stretched into the mist. Kadel fought the nausea as he searched the stable lines until picking one. The next moment, he was back in the shared workshop, sitting at the workbench that had been his home for months. He smiled, having successfully memorized two stable runes for the curved metallic band before him. Everything was coming together.

They’d accused him of abusing his ancestor’s contributions to ruin the Seat of Truth’s foundation. They didn’t understand. How could they? Even the Canonized Explorers remained trapped by three-dimensional thinking. Kadel would have been the same if he hadn’t stumbled into the gap left by his grandfather’s experiment. If he hadn’t fused with a sliver of the Ancient Arcana, which gave him a glimpse of the most ancient of truths.

Temporal Omnipresence was possible, and mortals could wield it! It wasn’t the exclusive power of an Eternal.

The clamor of countless parallel worlds filled Kadel’s mind, and a series of spasms made him drop his engraving chisel. He hugged himself, humming the nursery rhyme his wetnurse used to sing to calm him down during the summer storms. The thousand voices—most filled with ridicule and contempt—stilled.

The backlashes were getting worse. Kadel slowly reopened his eyes, finding most of his neighbors warily looking at him. One even stowed her project and moved to a workbench further away. Kadel didn’t mind, partly because he’d already seen it happen. Besides, a scholar cracking under pressure could be a deadly affair. You never knew how an experiment tainted by madness would act.

Kadel knew how he looked, and he didn’t care. He picked up his chisel and continued his work. He would prove all of them wrong tomorrow, and the backlashes would stop. He just needed to visit the crossroad a few more times to discover the final patterns.

“It will not work.”

It took a moment for Kadel to realize the taunt came from his prime timeline. The shock made him lose control and infuse too much Spatial Energy into the component. He always picked trajectories free of disruptions, so hearing a voice meant he’d either gone insane or was losing control over his ability. He’d also ruined the component.
Kadel swiveled toward the culprit with a bellyful of anger. It was the nondescript man seated at the workbench to Kadel’s left, a stranger who’d spent the past two weeks working on a metallic sphere. Kadel had already noticed it incorporated extremely novel concepts related to the Peak of Fantasy. A few years ago, Kadel would have loved getting to know a researcher of such caliber.

Now, Kadel mostly liked the man because he’d minded his business, not once interfering with Kadel’s important work. He hadn’t so much as looked up when Kadel was fighting against the backlashes.

“Bastard, couldn’t help yourself any longer? You had to speak up at a critical moment?” Kadel spat, his eyes stinging from held-back tears of betrayal and pent-up frustration. “Who the hell are you?”

Seeing who’d interrupted his work was surprisingly painful. Kadel had deluded himself into thinking there was at least one person in this Heaven-forsaken academy who believed in his work. Or at least had the decency to give him the benefit of the doubt instead of citing antiquated rules. Someone with an unconstrained heart and willingness for exploration.

Kadel’s outburst had no effect on his neighbor. There was no derision on his face, only a slightly vacant expression as he slowly drawled an answer. “I… I am Anson.”

“Anson? Never heard of you. Did someone put you up to this? Was it Kon’Lo? Did she pay you to interrupt my work at a critical moment?” Kadel growled.

Despite his tough front, Kadel started to worry that his antics had attracted an actual lunatic. Those lost in the truths often sought out like-minded.

“Can you see it? The disorder brought by your search?” Anson slowly asked, pointing toward a clump of workbenches nearby.

“What disorder?” Kadel’s eyes were wide with shock upon seeing the scholarʼs horrifying state. Some looked like they had fused with countless of themselves, while others flickered in and out of existence. It was like the timelines had been merged in a forced state of omnipresence.

“It’s you!” Kadel wheezed, believing this illusionist had used his tricks to mess with him. “What do you want?”

The man shook his head and stood up. “I’ll show you the truth if you dare wake from the dream.”

“What are you—HEY!” Kadel shouted, his eyes darting back and forth.

None of his tricks worked on the illusion. How was this possible? The Seat of Truth had extremely powerful protections in place. If this was a mental attack or illusory domain, the workshop’s arrays should have dealt with it already. Anson was already leaving through the main door on the opposite side of the enormous hall. Gritting his teeth, Kadel rushed after him.

If nothing else, Kadel needed to know how this mysterious observer could replicate such a realistic illusion, perfectly matching his theories of a temporal collapse.

“Hey? Where are you going? How did you do that? What’s the truth you speak of?”

“Wait.”

Kadel followed his desk mate to the middle of the Inquiry Square. As usual, there were hundreds of scholars around. Some were moving between departments or the grand library. Most were listening in on the Seat of Truth’s time-honored tradition—the public defense where scholars expounded on their insights while the audience poked holes in their ideas.

“Wh—”

“It’s time to wake up,” Anson said, and his sphere ignited with golden splendor.

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The world froze, and the Inquiry Square was cast in a golden sheen that filled Kadel with warmth. He’d never seen pure Imperial Faith once before. However, a pervasive decay was hiding behind the empire’s warm embrace. The frozen scholars had become faded paintings covered in dust, both real and unreal.

Kadel was no different. He was hollow, yet his mind felt unprecedentedly clear. It was like he’d finally shaken off the blinders that kept him from the truth. As the observer said, he’d woken up. And it was in that state that Kadel realized that only this mysterious observer felt solid in this world of fading lights.

“I cannot maintain this state for long. You need to move us forward,” Anson said, and Kadel saw how his tool was rapidly draining energy.

“I can only peer into potential futures. I can’t actually move through time,” Kadel said, somewhat understanding what Anson wanted.

“Here, you can,” the man urged. “Hurry.”

“You don’t understand. Even if I grab the trajectory—” Kadel choked on his explanation as the world around them sped up.

A day passed in the blink of an eye, but they could travel no further. The countless futures had fused into a singular river that severed his connection. Kadel had never seen anything like it during his many experiments. A single possible future? Had they encountered inevitable Fate? The academic in him tried to dissect the fantastical experience, but the theories went out his mind when he saw something just as shocking.

Kadel saw himself standing atop a workbench. Truthfully, Kadel might not have realized he was looking at a copy of himself if not for the prototype in his alter ego’s hand. Kadel could barely recognize the scruffy creature once lauded as a generational genius, the candidate most likely to pick up his grandfather’s mantle and become the first Headmaster in two generations.

Hundreds of scholars and more than a dozen lecturers surrounded him, their faces a gallery of emotions. There were even two elders standing at the front, including Professor Emision. Time was flowing erratically, and a bubble around Anson’s tool blocked all sound. Still, it was clear his old advisor was urging him to stop and reconsider.

Standing within the illusory bubble, Kadel knew it wouldn’t work. His other self activated the prototype, and Kadel immediately realized the observer—and everyone else—had been right. It wouldn’t work. The Omnipresence Chamber was only supposed to create a domain the size of a walnut, but a small fissure made it draw everything. Future and past converged on the present, and the prototype immediately shattered under their weight.

A pulse of total annihilation swept through the academy, completely erasing the present and, thus, the future. The people, the buildings, everything, was mowed down by buckling time and space.

“No!” Kadel wailed, consumed by horror and guilt.

A primal rejection of what he witnessed allowed Kadel to seize the temporal threads, and he fled into the past. The Seat of Truth reappeared as it was before. Kadel was once more standing in the middle of the square with the mysterious stranger a day before his ill-fated experiment. The Imperial Faith, the discrepancies, they were all gone. Gone everywhere save for his memories.

Kadel was covered in sweat like he’d woken up from a bad dream, and his mind feverishly went over the experience. Nothing was as scary as the unknown.

“An illusion successfully mimicking limited Omnipresence? No. We moved in time, yet not. It’s as if we—” Kadel gasped, his eyes wide with dawning realization. He looked at the observer, sensing his waning solidity. Yet Anson wasn’t the oddity—the world was. “…As if we were already standing in both points of time. Like we were observing time from within a true Omnipresence Chamber.”

“I first tried to help you discover and remedy your mistake. I’ve come to realize there might not be one. Your vision demands perfection in an imperfect world,” Anson said.

“You…”

“Destroying your prototype would have stopped the tragedy, as would killing you. I believe saving your records is enough.” The observer shook his head. “But they have their goals, and I have mine. I think you can accomplish more, so I figured out a way to temporarily wake you up.”

Kadel took a deep breath, surprised at how calm he suddenly felt. “How long has it been?”

“Very, very long.”

“The empire used my theories to create a dream with Temporal Omnipresence. Why?”

Ansel answered after some thought. “I think they needed to observe everything to find the answer. You’re part of it.”

“And what are you looking for, ghost of the future?”

“The same thing as they. A path forward. Hope,” the observer said as he began to fade. “Be patient. Give up on the demonstration, but don’t give up on your dream. If you wish to repay me, expand on your theories.”

“I’ll be expelled and—Huh, I guess that doesn’t matter,” Kadel lightly laughed before looking at the man from the future. “Why?”

“Because it’s incomplete,” the man said, looking deep into Kadel’s eyes. “What will happen when the dreamers step out of the dream?”

“Step out? You’d have to—” Kadelʼs brows furrowed upon realizing he didn’t know the answer, and a new road of inquiry opened up in his mind. By the time he looked up, the mysterious stranger was gone.

Anson­—no, Janos!—watched as the deranged scholar scurried back to his workshop while the memory domain collapsed around them. Kadel’s mysterious power had somewhat calmed down, but he still left small fractures in the dream behind him. His ability to fuse with the River of Time was amazing, but Time was a Dao fraught with taboos.

It was also this ability that made the experiment possible. Janos knew it was impossible to bring out anyone else. It was only possible with Kadel because he already had one foot outside reality. Still, it was a step in the right direction. Hopefully, Kadel would retain the memory of his experience when he returned to the dream.

Janos shook his head and turned away. The Seat of Truth had been his home for months, yet he felt nothing at seeing its end. It was only a reflection of the academy that was faded. The true academy was still in the dream, having gained a completely new future. His only regret was failing to learn more about the ‘Ancient Arcana’ that Kadel based his theories on.

The Realmkeeper Orb thrummed, using the last of its energy to stabilize Janos’s immediate surroundings. The experiment had drained most of his resources, leaving only a small reserve for the final piece of his plan. Janos rushed to the teleportation room, shocking its controller with his sudden appearance.

Months of mental conditioning allowed his illusion to activate without a hitch, and the Array Master’s expression immediately shifted from wariness to deep respect. “Greetings, Lord Explorer!”

“Hm,” Janos nodded. “The Mercurial Court has summoned me. Send me to the closest node.”

“Of course!” the guard readily agreed and swiftly made the necessary adjustments to the Teleportation Array.

Janos stepped onto the disk and the world twisted. The Realmkeeper Orb ran out of energy, and the backlash directly knocked Janos unconscious. He was pleasantly surprised to wake up in one piece with no immediate threats lurking nearby. He was stuck hallway inside a tree, but some wiggling allowed him to squeeze out. The Mercurial Court’s pillar was much closer than yesterday and two rings had appeared around it. It was just like the other ones who’d suddenly changed over the past weeks.

This jump was much better than the previous, saving Janos more than a month’s travel. It wasn’t enough to fully recoup the time spent in the Seat of Truth, but the delay was more than worth it. His Realmsinger Seal had nearly tripled in strength, which should mean his solution led to an improved future.

The Mercurial Court’s pillar was now less than two months away. If Janos could find another piece of the communal dream, he might be able to jump directly to the court. It was there he’d find out whether his efforts had borne fruit. Even if Kadel failed or ignored his parting comment, he should have advanced the technique. Someone in the Mercurial Court would have picked up the mantle, taking Janos closer to the solution he sought.

Janos gently looked at the drained Realmkeeper Orb. It had been damaged by the jump, but its core remained intact. Its alterations had also followed him out of the dream, and the orb was already drawing on the continent’s Imperial Faith to replenish its reserves.

His goal had never changed. The only difference was that Janos finally saw a glimmer of hope.

“Um’ha, be patient for a little longer. I will bring you out, no matter what.”