Return of the Tower Conqueror

Chapter 199: Mystique of the Ethereal

Chapter 199: Mystique of the Ethereal

Mystique of the Ethereal

Following the acquisition of items, everyone quickly dispersed, some either going on a walk through the city to relax, or to a nearby tavern to get something to drink, or just in the 'living room' to take a nap. Cain, on the other hand, stepped out front and brought out a chair, sitting down and popping open a can of beer, hoping to spend some time in silence. His hope, however, was quickly dashed as a figure of Ernie appeared next to him, a chair in two, and settled right by his side.

He, took, took out a beer from his inventory and popped it open, the few droplets escaping and dripping over his overgrown beard.

"... you wanna talk about it?" Ernie broke the silence.

"'bout what?"

"I've learned quite a few things," noting that the firm answer was 'no', Ernie quickly moved on. "Mana, I'm pretty sure, isn't energy."

"Hm?" Cain quizzed. "Didn't I already mention that?"

"No," Ernie shook his head. "You said that Mana is not just energy, but also matter, and laws themselves combined into one."

"..."

"However, it doesn't behave like energy," Ernie continued. "Nor like laws. Or matter. As a matter of fact, I can't think of a single goddamn thing it does behave like."

"What do you mean?" Cain asked, frowning.

"When it comes with any other form of matter, as tiny as even a single particle, we can employ some models to explain their behaviors," Ernie elaborated. "Like particles gaining kinetic energy with the increase in temperature, or how they move faster under those circumstances, dispersing in all directions when it comes to moving through gases. Mana, though, is... I can't even find a word to describe it. Consistent? Not really. But it's probably the closest."

"..."

"I'm pretty sure there actually isn't a scientific explanation for it," Ernie continued. "At least not with our current standard model of the universe. Likely, if we had the Theory of Everything, we might have some idea of how Mana behaves, at least, even if not what exactly it is. We don't, though. So, in essence, I got jack. Look," Ernie said, lifting his arm up and forcing a small whiff of Mana on top of his palm, transforming it into a tiny typhoon. "Right now, if you inspect it, it behaves exactly like your ordinary wind. Except... well... I can somehow control it. But there's nothing inside that... well... helps me control--you know what? Fuck you. Fuck this. I was so wrong, Cain. Everyone spouting bullshit on the TV is so wrong it's... it's not even comedy anymore."

"Weren't quantum physics once mega-complicated?"

"They still are."

"Uh, sure, yeah, but not like they used to, right?"

"It's not 'they' -- it's just 'it'."

"Do you want my motivating speech or don't you?"

"Not really."

"... I'll punch you."

"I never said I was going to give up," Ernie shrugged, taking a sip. "All I'm saying is that if I end up an alcoholic at the end of this journey, that's on you."

"I'll pay for rehabilitation, then."

"You better," Ernie chuckled as he finished off the drink. "Alright, I'm gonna go look at Taima crafting. There's some extra weird shit happening there, too. Man, I guarantee... we'll likely never figure out half this fucking world out."

"..." Cain merely smiled as he watched Ernie walk back inside, sighing after. Ernie was strangely on point for a man who'd only spent a few months inside the Tower.

Alas, it wasn't for Cain to think and mull over the truths; be it previous or this life, he hardly had any interest in it. For him, it was much easier to simply accept it 'as-is' -- whatever else lay beneath the surface... had nothing to do with him. As he had little else to do, he withdrew back into his Skills and began once again simulating battles and creating and deleting skills on fly. It was the most rudimentary way to train, but he couldn't think of a better one -- not here and now, anyway.

**

The tension in the air was palpable -- it almost felt like one could cut through it if they just tried. Though there was noise, though there was chatter... it was silent. After all, millions lived within this paradise beneath the world -- yet, the streets were eerily empty, the pubs and taverns woefully silent and void of music, and the city itself void of its incandescent lights that illuminate it into the paradise it can be.

Eldur stood on his balcony, staring down at the destitute reality, his expression aloof and indifferent. Behind him, on top of a kingly bed, several women lazily stretched, one of them standing up and walking over, tossing her arms around his bare chest and pressing hers against his back, biting the lobe of his ear in the process seductively.

"Why didn't you wake us up, my Prince?" the woman whispered softly.

"... do you feel it, Alana?" Eldur asked instead of replying.

"Feel what, my Prince?" the woman asked back, confusedly, leaning over the railing and glancing at the city down below.

"The fear of this pathetic place."

"... fear? Hmm," Alana shuffled next to him and leaned onto the railing, letting her bare breasts dangle over the edge. "Aren't you scared, my Prince? That even you won't be able to contain chaos?"

"Contain?" Eldur scoffed. "Why would I contain it? Rather... the point of inducing chaos is to just... let it be. And enjoy. Enjoy every last bit of it."

"He he," Alana laughed strangely, licking her lips. "Hear that, sisters? We just might swept in the river for Prince's enjoyment~~"

"No," Eldur said, abruptly reaching out and grabbing Alana's hair, yanking it back as she yelped in pain. "Not just for mine, Alana. For all's. Aah, that slutty face of yours is really too tempting."

"Eeh, don't just play with Alana, my Prince~~ come, join us!"

"Yes, join us!" nine women, each identical to Alana in appearance, suddenly crawled out from underneath the sheets and walked over toward Eldur, wrapping their arms around him, and a few even dropping on their knees in front of him.

"Now... only if my puppets would begin to arrive," Eldur mumbled as his lips curled up into a smile. "Then the story can at last begin... a-aah!"

**

Looking up, her face showed nothing but disgust; she saw him, and she saw them, indulging in sin as though the world was unable to witness their debauchery. It was all him, and it was all them, and it was all those whispering in the walls; they'd condemned her beautiful Kingdom to the inferno. Her peoples were scared; their eyes uncertain, gazes shifty and drifting, breaths short and panicky.

She had to fix it -- only she could fix it. Who else? Her brothers and sisters and cousins? Her uncles and aunts? No. They were all bad. Wrong. Evil. They were the reason for this. She couldn't even describe it -- the sheer difference of her home. Just a few years ago, right around this point in the Cycle, the above was doused in colors by the flying lanterns, the world was swollen in the rhapsody of music, the dust kicked up by the street performers, hundreds of stalls for hundreds of snacks. She knew. She was there. She danced. She sang. She ate. She drank. She looked up.

Even if there was no 'sky', the mythical, ethereal dome above, it didn't matter. It was beautiful. Now... now it wasn't. It was ugly. So, so, so ugly. But... what could she do? What was there for her to do? She fought, already. She lashed out at her Father, and at her Mother, and at her Brothers and Sisters. They all laughed. Or ignored her. But mostly laughed. Their raspy voices that shrilled against the walls and through the Palace's halls were of mockery; even Maids and Slaves began to see her as a joke. A poor little girl making up stories. She wasn't even a girl! She was a woman! She bled nearly three years ago! Her Father had already wanted to marry her, but her outbursts drove away all the Suitors.

She was glad; marriage... was hateful. She saw her Mother and her Sisters -- they were angry, mad, all the time. They weren't happy. Never. They were never happy.

She bit her lip in frustration and hid back inside. What could she do? She was strong... but she was weak. She was alone. Alone. And lonely. It was lonely, drifting and stuck inside the drafty walls and frameless windows. But she was hopeful. She heard a voice. It was a nice voice, a soft voice, yet one full of strength, full of courage, full of vigor. It was far, she knew, but it was coming closer -- she knew. She just had to wait. Had to wait for that voice to come... and begin the deliverance.