Arcturus followed Lilith out of his quarters into a grand hallway ten metres wide, and fifteen metres high. Curiosity beckoned and he glanced up at the vaulted, chandeliered ceilings. He was noticing a pattern in the design of the gigantic building, or complex, or…

“Lilith, what exactly is this place?”

“The residential wing?” She asked as she led him down the wide, columned corridor.

“This entire building. I emerged where I assume was underground. From what I recall of Sevatar’s transport of me while I was crippled, this place is massive.”

“Ah. You have never seen a Grand Acropolis before?”

He looked back to her when she spoke, increasing his pace to stride alongside her with a faint thud of plate against the carpeted floors. “Acropolis? A Hill Fort?”

“Hill Fort is an… amusing way of putting it.” She said with a faint smile. “A Grand Acropolis is a great citadel built upon elevated ground, designed to be the governing centre of a megalopolis. In the days of Vitaea, millions lived under the watchful Aegis of this fortress’ skysteel spires, and sheltered behind the steel of its armies.”

“So it’s a fortress.” Arcturus said simply, far too experienced with Terran wordplay and trickery to buy into the fanciful image Lilith tried to paint for him. Even if she did believe it, which he could tell from her fervour and passion she did; it was easy enough to view things from a bias when living in an echelon of advantage. “That doesn’t tell me how large it is, or whether or not I appeared underground.”

“You were underground.” She confirmed, her voice carrying a hint of disappointment at his lack of enthusiasm for her description, and perhaps even a touch of reproach for his cynicism.

If only she’d met you when you first landed on Terra.

“How deep?” He asked instead of responding to the accurate, but annoying comment of his subconscious. He disliked remembering how frail, naive, and easily controlled he’d been at that time in his life. Caeara and Vivienne’s faces flashed through his mind again, and his jaw clenched. Never again.

“The Gateway was built at the lowest sublevels of the Acropolis before the plumbing and ley-taps.”

“Ley-taps?”

“Tethers into the ley-line nexus beneath us. Each Grand Acropolis is built on one, with this one residing over the strongest one on the sub-continent.”

“And which sub-continent is that?” Arcturus asked, pleased to have met someone that gave him actual answers no matter how little she appreciated his tone.

“Come and see.” She said instead, at the same time as she turned into a larger, grander hallway and gestured to an entire row of floor-to-ceiling windows to their left. According to Arcturus’ compass, they pointed West — in roughly the same direction his Tethers guided him.

Cautiously intrigued, Arcturus moved to the first one and, upon looking out of it properly, froze. His heart thundered in his chest, his eyes widened, and his mouth turned dry. “This… This has to be…”

Lilith joined him at the window, and looked through it at his side. “The Blighted Lands.” She said sombrely.

Woah.

As far out as his gaze could reach, all Arcturus saw was a pall of grey, black, and brown. Dead trees, desiccated earth, and the faint remains of crumbling ruins that bore not even a shallow resemblance to the cities they’d once been. The forsaken land seemed to stretch far away, until hills obscured his vision, with no sign of life or semblance of its existence. The Blighted Lands were a vista of regret, of pain, and of intimated natural agony. A place not simply of low rainfall or sparse growth, but of targeted decay and accelerated entropy. It was a husk of a world he was looking at: Barren, drained, bereft of even a sliver of nutrition or fertility.

Death, in every direction, turned incarnate upon the expansive land.

Now this is depressing.

At the edge of the visible steelwork comprising the many gothic rises of the Grand Acropolis, he saw obsidian walls dozens of metres high, bedecked with reinforced parapets and lethal black spikes to dissuade climbers or invaders. Several layers had the fortress within the distant walls, and as he marched his eyes back towards where he stood; towers of shining black steel rose like blades towards the heavens. So many levels, and waves of construction, from the high elevation of his position and higher — and far, far lower. The Grand Acropolis was a city unto itself, and looked capable of housing thousands. Tens of thousands.

Yet, for all its beauty and impossible artistry, the Black Citadel sat within a land life had abandoned.

“I just...” He searched for the words, momentarily rendered speechless by what he’d seen. Not out of fear or out of awe, but sheer incredulity. That such a place could exist in a world of magic, where gods were real bewildered and stunned him. The very allowance of such wasteful degradation was both baffling and infuriating.

Lilith stood silently at his side, hands clasped before her patiently. She was the image of a romanticised Victorian noblewoman, down to the demure manner of her stance and posture.

“You said this place was built to be the seat of governance for a megalopolis. That implies that this land would at some point have been capable of supporting life, correct?”

“Yes.” She answered simply, turning her scarlet gaze to observe him.

“Then how did this… How did this happen? And why the hell was I brought here? I remember the maps of Terra, this is… This is thousands of kilometres from where I was. I was in the Empire’s south, this… this is as far East and North as you can theoretically get.”

“This Grand Acropolis in particular is at the centre of the Blighted Lands, actually, but I understand your sentiment. I even have answers for you,” she turned to him, “but not here.”

“Why not?” He asked, glancing at her as he reminded himself she had told him the truth about where they were and the Grand Acropolis. The beautiful attendant must have had a reason for denying him at that moment, or so he hoped.

“The Archivum has much better resources to aid in your education, and as the foremost authority of learning in the Acropolis, I would be remiss not to provide you all the tools you require to attend to that learning.”

Arcturus allowed himself a moment of thought, and then with a final glance back at the grim landscape, he nodded. “Very well. Lead the way.”

So she did.

Don’t stare at her arse, it’s rude.

The path to the archivum — the library, his linguistics skill told him — was fraught with more examples of the Acropolis’ disrepair, from faded artistry upon the walls and ceiling to cracked and degenerated stonework that served to highlight the fall from grace afflicting the building at large. Arcturus had initially tried to avoid looking too much at the signs of neglect or staring too intently at different faded remnants of once-beautiful artistry, ostensibly in an effort to avoid offending Lilith and the Sovereign to whom she presumably reported. Yet despite this earnest effort, it wasn’t long before his curiosity overrode his caution and he delayed their progress, stopping to trace his hands over ruptured works of art on cracked walls, or appraise moth-eaten tapestries that adorned the hallways.

Lilith seemed content to indulge his curiosities without complaint or any sign of offense taken as he grew progressively more distracted, standing with her hands clasped in front of her in the same patiently regal manner as she let him indulge in his examinations of the citadel’s interior. As they travelled the corridors, the black-haired woman maintained a steady and enviable grace to her movements; gliding through the corridors in a way only one fully at home could manage. There was no fear or hesitation to her movements, something that Arcturus took careful note of. He’d initially thought her to be some indentured subject of the imposing Sovereign, perhaps a forced member of its species: Yet Lilith comported herself as if the Acropolis was the only home she’d ever known.

In her eyes he saw love when she looked at the wounded castle, blended with sadness.

Calm down, hero complex.

“How old is the Acropolis, Lilith?” He asked her as he stopped to admire a torn tapestry, its sewn surface showing a faded figure in dark armour holding a shield against some unknown threat.

“The citadel predates the Forsworn Empire by almost two millennia.”

Arcturus was nonplussed for a moment. “Forsworn… The Aquilan Empire?” His eyes narrowed faintly at the tapestry in thought. “That would make it over six thousand years old.”

“So it would.” She confirmed with a quirk of her lips, looking from the wounded tapestry to him with an assessing expression.

“This entire place is filled with history.” Arcturus muttered as he looked over the torn stitching. “The paintings, tapestries…” He shook his head as he reached out to touch the worn fabric, brushing his thumb over it. “Even the murals on the ceilings of the bigger rooms. It’s like an entire culture is preserved in this building alone. There’s so many stories in these pieces of art, it’s almost overwhelming.”

“Would you restore it, if you could?”

Arcturus hesitated at her question, feeling as though he was being asked far more than what was on the surface. The words, while innocuous enough by themselves, seemed to hold a weight or meaning that immediately raised his wariness. How he answered her, he knew, would be important. He deliberated for several moments before deciding honesty was his best avenue.

Because that hasn’t hurt you in the past, not at all.

“I think I would, if only to understand the full scope of the stories in the artwork, and to see what such a place would have looked like in its prime. I can’t say it’d be for any greater purpose than that, though. I’ve always been interested in history.”

“You’re honest, at least.” Lilith responded with a measure of approval, her gaze roaming across the walls and ceiling. “My own interest in the restoration of the Acropolis is more sentimental, I suppose, but I can’t say I fault your motivations. Rediscovering the full extent of the artwork and stories that have been lost to the citadel’s state of disrepair would indeed be… enchanting.”

“How long have you been here, Lilith?” Arcturus asked, eyes shifting to regard her measuringly. It was time to see how forthright she would be with him, though he had to admit he’d be hard pressed to detect if she were lying. Everything she said seemed honest, which either made her endearingly sincere, or masterfully deceptive.

“I was born here.” She said after a moment of silence as she settled her gaze, intense and scrutinizing, upon him.

“You’ve been here your whole life?” He asked with a flicker of shock. “Have you never wanted to see the world beyond the Acropolis?”

“I’ve seen enough to know that I prefer it here.” She replied with quiet conviction.

Arcturus raised his eyebrows. “That is a bold statement.”

“I simply didn’t want you to delude yourself.” She said matter-of-factly. “I am no maiden requiring salvation. I am, if perhaps not happy, at least firmly content with my situation.”

“I understand.” He responded after a moment of thought, impressed by the fact she’d manage to hone in on the true, if subconscious reason for his concern. His hero complex had not died, after all: It was just heavily tempered by experience and, if he was honest, bitter pragmatism. “Perhaps I can offer you insights into the world beyond, then, in exchange for your time and effort in educating me on this world within.”

Like I said: Calm down, hero complex.

Her laugh was musical and warm in equal measure after he said his piece, leaving an amused quirk to her lips once it had faded. “You have some amusing notions, Arcturus.”

“Amusing… Infuriating… Both adjectives are probably apt.” He conceded with a small smile.

“So I’m discovering.” She agreed, gracing him with a heart-stopping smile while gesturing with an elegantly manicured hand. “Now, shall we resume our trek to the Archivum?”

“As you wish, my lady.” Arcturus said with a final smile, before stepping forwards to follow her as she set off to lead the way again.

The rest of their journey passed in good time, though the sheer size of the Acropolis — a scale Arcturus had not understood until their trip from his rooms to the library — meant that their trip took the better part of an hour. Along their way he’d noted several very shallow pools or basins devoid of liquid of any kind, the circular depressions round enough to fit perhaps seven standing adults with space between them. When they arrived at the massive double doors to the archivum, Arcturus spotted yet another one of the basins outside of it, and his curiosity got the better of him.

“Lilith, what are these? I’ve seen them at diverging routes the entire way.” He bent down as he called to her, hand reaching out to touch the edge of the stone ring encircling the depression. His fingers, upon closer exploration, managed to touch the edge of what appeared to be runes carved into the ring — automatically triggering his Aetherforging senses.

ANALYSIS UNSUCCESSFUL

Due to the advanced and esoteric nature of the object before you, your ability to properly analyse its runic pattern is severely impeded. Acquire more information about the runic language used before trying again.

“They are matter translocator junctions, Arcturus. Before the Acropolis fell into disrepair, pads like the one you used upon your arrival would sit within each of them and connect them to a vast network within the citadel. It would allow the residents to translate from one junction to another within moments. There is one near your quarters, as well.”

Beam us up, Scotty!

“That explains things.” Arcturus responded with interest, impressed at the sheer complexity of the concept. “I tried to read the runes and was incapable of doing so. I wondered how people were able to traverse the Acropolis efficiently given its apparent size, and the lack of other visible modes of teleportation.” He turned to Lilith as he stood up, realising he’d yet to ask her that very question. “You’ve shown me the size visually, but what scale are we actually dealing with within the Acropolis as a whole?”

Lilith smiled at him, pride shining through her expression as she answered. “The Acropolis consists of fifty floors across almost a dozen interconnected facilities, not including the towers or subterranean levels, and is capable of sustaining a population of fifty thousand. In its prime the walls were also surrounded by an empowered ring of blackstone approximately three kilometres in diameter; the true perimeter of the Acropolis is a dozen or so metres less than that.”

Arcturus felt his eyes widen a little despite himself. “I thought perhaps two or three thousand, but fifty?”

“You were using the metrics of the forsworn and their limitations, Arcturus. We must break you of that habit.”

“So it seems.” He replied with a furrow of his brows.

KNOWLEDGE GAINED

You have discerned that the Vitaean culture and civilisation were far more capable than you might have ever considered plausible. You are now coming to the realisation that, despite your initial concerns, you may have stumbled upon the remnants of an extremely advanced ancient race. Who knows what secrets await you under Lilith’s tutelage? Only one way to find out!

“Now that we’re here, in fact, we have an excellent chance to begin doing exactly that.” She gestured elegantly to the library, her hand sweeping the air with a grace that bordered the unnatural. “Shall we proceed, my prince?”

Arcturus shook his head at her showmanship, stepping forwards and through the large double doors as they opened seemingly of their own volition. “You have a flair for the dramatic, my lady.”

“It keeps me entertained.” She replied primly, her lips quirking at the corners in stifled amusement as she followed him inside and took the lead to guide him past the vacant reception area immediately ahead of them — consisting of an encircled area with room for seven people to sit comfortably to address any enquiries — and into the library proper. Multiple floors made up the Archivum itself, and Arcturus could see the towering frames of well over two dozen shelves per floor.

The sheer wealth of knowledge on display was almost terrifying, relegating even the libraries of Yale to irrelevance with the library’s scale. The abandonment, or perhaps loss, of such a font of understanding was heartbreaking to Arcturus. He’d never been the most studious or engrossed student, but he had been raised to appreciate the value of knowledge. Seeing the dust and neglect rampant throughout the library hurt him in a way he’d never expected. The echo of his and Lilith’s footsteps, dancing unimpeded throughout the cavernous space, only served to hammer the loss home.

More depression.

“Here we are.” Lilith said after a short walk and turned to face him, the set of her normally subdued features bordering on what Arcturus would classify as girlish excitement. “Take a seat at the table and I will fetch the appropriate volumes to begin your education.”

Arcturus turned his attention to the fine oak of the table they stood near, settling himself down into one of the chairs obediently as Lilith’s heels clicked away. He could even hear her humming with how excited she was, inspiring a shake of his head as he tried to reconcile the attitude with the articulated and proper Lady she’d been not an hour earlier. Learning, it seemed, brought out a different side of her completely.

When she returned it was with several tomes in her arms and a look of excitement in her scarlet eyes. “History you may study in your room, using the tome I left for you. Here we will focus on Vitaean society and politics, the truth of Anima and Aether, Vitae, and the fundamentals of what it means to be Vitaean.”

Arcturus’ eyes widened fractionally with each thick book she thumped down on the table as she spoke, until he eventually looked to her gleaming eyes with a mix of bewilderment and mild panic. “And this is all necessary? I mean, it’s not like I’ll be staying here very long—”

“What are you talking about?” She asked sharply, a flicker of something unidentifiable dancing within her eyes.

Well done, jackass.

“The Sovereign and I had an accord. I would allow a month for education, and then make my choice. Forgive my candour, but I’m not sure what you could show me that would convince me to spend the rest of my days wandering an abandoned super fortress in the heart of a benighted wasteland.”

“You don’t understand how important your presence here is.”

“You seemed to be doing just fine prior to my arrival, barring the Vampires.” He said, pointing downwards indicatively.

“Arcturus.” She said with a measure of earnest imploration that took him aback. “Look around you. Please. Look. Does any of this seem ‘fine’, to you?”

It was her eyes, more than anything, that brought him up short. Her wide, bright crimson eyes and the pain he saw in them, so profound that it robbed the fight from him immediately. He felt a flush of shame as he broke eye contact, instead taking the time to look around once again and see the state of the library — of the Acropolis at large, reflected in the centre of learning. “No.” He admitted, losing some of his instinctive acerbic recalcitrance. “No, nothing looks fine. It’s like the building itself is withering. Dying.”

“What was said was the truth, Arcturus. You are the first hope for Reclamation that has ever come here. That’s why Sevatar was commanded to bring you. You’re the last sliver of a chance for more than an ignominious fade into oblivion.” The gentle, almost vulnerable tone of her voice drew him almost unwillingly back to her, and his attention settled once again on Lilith as if compelled. When he looked at her, there was no spellcraft or enchantment at play; just a girl who loved her home, and a bone-deep loneliness and weariness that seemed disproportionately larger than her apparent age.

Can you say no to that supernaturally beautiful face, ladykiller?

Arcturus’ mind flashed with rage at the reminder of Vivienne.

…Yeah, sorry, my bad.

He accepted the apology silently.

“I don’t understand how I’m supposed to help you, Lilith.” He said to her as he refocused. “This isn’t a storybook with some default happy ending, and I am far from a shinily-armoured prince astride a gallant steed.”

“No, but you are the Prince we were given. All I ask, Arcturus, is that you learn. Read, learn, grow stronger, gain knowledge… and then, when our time is done? Then you can make the choice we want to give you. I swear to you, on my life, that I will tell you the moment you’re informed enough to choose.” Her hands reached out and settled on his, warm and soft to the touch. “Please. Please just let me make our case to you.”

“What case, Lilith?” Arcturus asked as he felt his resistance crumbling, trying not to show how ready he was to agree to her requests. The sincerity of her words combined with the uncharacteristic — for even knowing her a short time, he knew it was uncharacteristic — vulnerability she displayed had eroded almost all of his recalcitrance. “What choice? I don’t understand.”

“No one is born Vitaean, Arcturus. They become Vitaean. My directive is to prepare you as best as I am able, to help you learn and comprehend, so that when the time comes you can make the choice with a full understanding of what it means.”

“You want me to become a member of your society?”

Sales pitch time.

“No, Arcturus.” Lilith said as her gaze remained locked with his. “We want you to rule it.”

Wow, you can’t make this stuff up.

“Excuse me?” He retorted, drawing his hands back and folding his arms over his chest. She’d almost had him. Almost. How many times could he be fooled by a pretty woman? “I already told your Sovereign, didn’t I? I have no fucking interest in playing someone’s Dynastic games. I am tired of it. It’s already cost me too much.”

“I thought you hated the Church of the Forsworn Gods.”

“You mean the Church of Eternal Light?

“That is what I said.” She confirmed.

“You said Forsworn. Whatever that means, it holds no significance to me.”

“That will come with education—”

“That I am no longer convinced I need, if you’re just going to ask me to be a pawn for another person’s quest for—”

“We’re dying!” She snapped at him, slamming her hand into the table. Her eyes glistened as she said it, and it was the juxtaposition of her table-slap and her tears that finally made him fall silent.

Nice work.

“We’re dying.” She continued in a quieter voice. “There isn’t enough Vitae to sustain the Sovereign, and once the last Royarch dies, that’s the end. Our people were the custodians of Terra for over fifty thousand years, Arcturus. We created a utopia for this world, its people, and everything upon it. We made technological and magical breakthroughs that changed the very foundations of what we understand as reality.”

“Then why do you need—?”

“Because you are unique. Call it fate, or destiny, or sheer dumb Luck or any other number of things: You are terrifyingly, reality-defyingly unique and it is that uniqueness that makes you perfect to become the Reclaimer. Even the armour you wear is Vitaean.”

“It is?” He asked in surprise.

“Those gems?” She said emphatically, poking the large ruby on his chest. “They are Vitaean Cardinals. They were made using our understanding of Anima and essence diffusion. That is why the armour can evolve and grow, because it was given a modicum of life by our artisans. It should have remained locked to the Lord that it was made for, but you… You defy such laws by the nature of what you are.”

“You’re being cryptic.”

“I want to teach you!” She exclaimed in frustration.

“Then start.” He said with a grunt.

“We have to go in the right order!”

“Fine, but what does my hatred of the Church have to do with me becoming your—” he raised his hands to use air quotes “—’Reclaimer’ and ruling your Grand Acropolis?”

“You want to destroy the Church of Eternal Light, do you not?”

“I do. I can’t very well do that from the middle of a land only Lovecraft would like.”

“Lovecraft…?” She asked in confusion, brows furrowed prettily.

“Forget it. Shard nomenclature. My question?”

“When you assume the Sovereign’s mantle—”

“If.” He said flatly.

Stick to your guns, attaboy.

“Fine.” She responded with a small flash of annoyance. “If. You will be the hope for all of Terra; the herald of a return to an age before ignorance, superstition, and corruption subdued the hearts of mortals. A return to a time of heroes, and great works — of philosophy and communion with the True Gods.”

“That helps me erase the Church how?”

“The Forsworn Gods are not the first deities of Terra. They are but lesser shadows; usurpers who tricked and cast down the true pantheon. If you restored them, the Church would not last long.”

Arcturus grunted. The last thing he needed was another cult on Terra. He decided to change tactics to steer away from that topic.

“Okay, leaving aside the religion for a moment…” He murmured. “How does this tie into understanding Vitae? Isn’t that what you said to me earlier? Anima, Aether, and Vitae as part of my education? I’ll admit, I’m jumping backwards a fair bit, but you speak of Vitae like it’s a distinct resource and I’m curious about that.”

This sounds… Familiar...

Lilith wiped her eyes as she nodded, and Arcturus pointedly chose not to dwell on that fact, waiting until she continued instead. Her fingers wrapped around a thick, black book and she opened it before sliding it over for him to read. “The first tome deals with the nature of Anima and Aether as it exists within the Source. I believe that it will offer you a foundational understanding, which we can then use to discuss Vitae.”

“I already know what Anima and Aether are, though.” Arcturus said conversationally as he carefully flipped through the tome, brushing his fingers over the weathered pages. They were far closer to earth-paper than anything else he’d yet seen. “One is the composition of the body, and the other is the energy that allows us to use magic.”

“Ah, you see? You already prove my point. By your own definition you show your ignorance, Arcturus.” Excitement had threaded into her voice, and the way she adopted a decidedly lecturing tone was strangely amusing enough to bring a grudging smile to his face. She finally sounded in her element. “Aether is magic, yes, but Aether is also the building block of reality and the essence of the Soul. Meanwhile, Anima is not merely the composition of the body, but in fact comes in two different forms. There is ‘passive’ or ‘solid’ Anima which is what builds us and forms our bones, tendons, flesh, and the structure of all living things — and then there is ‘active’ or ‘liquid’ Anima. The latter is our blood, our plasma, and the fuel that nourishes and maintains our bodies.”

Arcturus frowned at the tome as he read along with her explanation. “Bodies are passive and then active would be, what, Health Points?”

“In essence. Health Points are more so an indication of one’s bodily sustainability, as opposed to Vitality, which is your energy and capacity for endurance, pain tolerance, et cetera. That deals with the passive aspect or ‘structure’; Anima in the case of the System as it’s listed in your attributes deals with the active liquid aspect.”

“I was curious why they were distinct.” He murmured. “Though your explanation is along the same lines as what I hypothesized, and what my friend elucidated upon based on his assessments.”

“Smart, this friend of yours?”

“Brilliant, actually. Very much so.”

“Perhaps a good candidate for your Imperial Vizier—”

“Easy there, Kingmaker.” Arcturus said with a raised finger. “I haven’t changed that ‘if’ yet. Focus up.”

Lilith smiled at him mischievously, and Arcturus felt his stomach do a traitorous backflip at the gesture. Damn it, he would not let her sucker him in!

Arcturus, I feel like we should know all this…

He ignored the voice. That was impossible.

“Very well.” She said with a clearing of her throat. “You’ve noticed, I assume, that your health and mana drastically increase with each compounding investment?”

“Yes.” He said with a snort. “Ridiculously so.”

“Do you understand why?”

“I assume it has something to do with relative damage. I doubt having high HP—” Arcturus paused and she waved him on, clearly understanding “—would mitigate critical or crippling injuries. My head doesn’t magically not get cut off because I have 15,000 points instead of 500.”

“Correct. Instead, what it does is enable you to survive any non-instant killing blow for longer. For example, if your lungs were to be punctured: You would rapidly lose Health, but be able to maintain consciousness and capability for longer than someone of a lower Anima threshold.”

“Then what part does Vitality play in that scenario?”

“Your ability to weather the pain, avoid the shock, and keep your body moving. Health, meanwhile, dictates your ability to temporarily make up for the loss of that organ or critical area in the short term.” She tapped a nail against the table. “It also reduces the effects of blood loss in general, allowing you to suffer more wounds or cuts and fight for longer in spite of them.”

“Wouldn’t that be Vitality too?” Arcturus pressed.

“They interlink to a degree,” she said with a conceding nod, “but again Vitality is more your stoicism and frame itself. Passive Anima, not active.”

“This seems both distinct and extremely similar.” Arcturus muttered.

“That is the nature of the System.” She agreed.

“And you still haven’t explained Vitae.” Arcturus pointed out.

“Well that’s rather simple.” Lilith said with a knowing smile. “Vitae is the perfect harmonisation of Aether and Anima into a single, unified element.”

“...Okay.” Arcturus said after a moment, feeling extremely underwhelmed. “And why is this a big deal? That’s literally our bodies, isn’t it?”

“No. Vitae is an evolution of the basic process of unification present in the body. Blood becomes charged with mana, not separate from your mana channels. The very form of the body is suffused with passive energy. Those who properly harness Vitae bleed magic, Arcturus.”

“Okay…” He said as he considered. “I feel like I’m missing the revelation here.”

I… I feel as though I should be able to help with this!

Arcturus pointedly ignored how strong his crazy was at that moment.

Lilith sighed at him. “What is the process of spellcasting?”

“Catalyzation, Visualization, Invocation.”

“Correct. First you must catalyze the magic and draw the mana for its use, then visualize and understand the effect, and then invoke the effect.”

“And Vitae is different?”

“Those who wield Vitae can use aether as easily as breathing, Arcturus, because it becomes indistinct from their own bodies. Do you have to catalyze, visualize, and execute to move your finger?”

“Of course not, but how does… that…” He trailed off as his eyes widened slowly.

“Yes.” Lilith said with a quiet, triumphant smile. “I can see the gears turning.”

“So Vitaeans can use magic like willpower?” He asked incredulously. “Just… ‘I want a flame!’ and boom, there’s a flame?”

“No.” She said happily.

“No?” He asked quizzically.

“Faster than that.” She clarified.

“What do you—?”

A flame appeared in the air between them, flickering and dancing, before breaking apart into a sudden miniature tornado, which solidified suddenly into an orb of liquid water, and then hardened into a block of stone instantly.

“That was…” Arcturus could feel himself boggling.

“All four core elemental schools.” Lilith said a little smugly.

“But that’s—”

“Impossible, apparently, yes.”

“How the hell is that possible? Elemental affinity is one of the most foundational aspects of magical—”

“For the ignorant, certainly. For a Vitaean, such limitations are a simple matter of time and scientific understanding. If you comprehend how things exist, you can replicate them with Aether. It is the foundational building block of reality, after all.”

“Then why can’t regular people do this with Aether and Anima being distinct?”

“Because they do not have the intimate understanding or relationship with the power that a Vitaean — an individual who has suffused their very existence with both Anima and Aether in concert — can attain.”

“So why has no one discovered this resource again? It seems like it’d be relatively simple to make the jump for a dedicated enough scholar.”

“It isn’t permitted.”

“What?”

“Experimenting with combining Anima and Aether is expressly forbidden by the Church of Eternal Light. It’s classified as a Cardinal Sin, because it intimates the work of Order and the Gods. More than that, though, it requires access to the System and proper assessment of Aether and Anima individually to work. You need mathematical insights that System-restricted individuals cannot clean.”

“Then how did the Vitaeans do it?”

“We used the System.”

“I thought you can use the System because you’re Vitaean!”

“Yes.”

“But then—”

“That wasn’t always the case, Arcturus.” Lilith chided with a twinkle of amusement in her red eyes. “Think about it logically: Why would Order restrict a System to only a select few?”

“I dunno,” he groused, “Order’s an asshole. Power balance?”

“That implies intervention,” she said as she ignored his blaspheming. “Something He strictly does not do.”

“Then… He wouldn’t, but—”

“Correct. He wouldn’t.”

“Then who…?” His eyes widened. “The Gods?!”

“Yes.” She said with a nod. “Them.”

“But why?!” He demanded, realising the extent of what she was saying. Taking away the System from the entire populace of Terra? That was... It was horrifying. It was unimaginable. The corrupted code when Inspecting people, the lack of comprehension about Nephilic capabilities... What kind of changes and imbalances had it wrought? How many futures had the gods stolen by severing an individual's ability to choose their own growth and path? It was inconceivable. It was evil.

“When Elder Gods were subdued, there were no longer care-takers to prevent their intervention.”

“But why would they do that? Why would they care? They’re gods!”

“Come now, Arcturus, that’s simple: They guarded their power with jealousy.”

“How does that make sense?” He asked in frustration. “They’re still gods!”

“Yes.” She said in agreement. “But they weren’t always.”

“But what does this have to do with Vitae and the System?” He asked, before the revelation hit him like a thunderbolt. “Holy shit…”

“Yes, Arcturus.” Lilith said with a laugh, while Arcturus stared at her in disbelief. “The forsworn ‘gods’ were originally Vitaeans.”