…

Noel: “…”

{Why… I came all this way to uncover what that bad guy was guarding… IF he was even guarding and not just coveting, only to find a...}

Noel: “…A book…? That...person was only interested in a dirty, old book?”

In the autumnal winds, Noel rushed fast towards his destination. Well, even though he indeed ran ‘fast’ both at the stadium dome after winning against Blair Ericson and after satisfying his thrill for battle--

…

Okay. He was just venting all of his pent – up stress that couldn’t be washed away inside of a hospital bed next to Rise – that strange and barely trust-able teammate of his.

But still!

Even though he did indeed run ‘fast’… that was only in comparison to average people. He was largely taking it easy. After all – why rush? It wouldn’t even take him 10 seconds to travel the 500 or so miles he traveled by now. He did indeed waste about a half hour since his departure, but can it really be considered wasteful when he got to enjoy a unique scenery along the way? To experience the setting sun amid these gigantic trees in the vivacious and active sky? Impossible. Running that fast is generally useful when you’re running very short on time, yet have plans to accomplish, or when you need to utilize every ounce of potential to achieve a victory in battle against your opponent; be it in a desperate struggle for survival or a simple bout between bitter rivals. If one wisshes to stir up chaos for a short while, that type of speed is useful then, too. But generally speaking, you end up… missing… a lot of things.

His laid back level of speed was still pretty quick, so although he looked like an incredible parkour expert in the area, his advanced and overdeveloped sense of hearing managed to pick up the sound of stone clashing and grating against a type of metal – most probably steel, signifying that gargoyle puppet thing, the one that seemed like a mini boss but in actuality was treated as no more than a disposable puppet for its master’s amusement, had indeed, undergone a round of battle once more – this time however, the injuries noel dealt it were severe enough to hinder it’s battle prowess greatly. So long as the mysterious magician doesn’t come out and ‘deal’ with things personally again, nor that the puppet and puppeteer combo have any hidden trump cards or aces left behind in it.

More important however, those voices grew impossibly distant. It looked as if nobody was tailing him, and the puppet wasn’t planning on giving chace. Or it couldn’t find enough time to give chase. Regardless, Noel took advantage of its lack of interest and chose to pick up his own lace a little.

He arrived in an open clearing next to a mossy boulder with sun pouring down like a lone, sun-kissed blotch within a variably bright, sometimes too shady couple of acres of land. The trees were merely too sparse and scattered, but their sheer size and width covered so much ground, the area looked like a combination between a set of meadows and a giant forest right now.

Noel: “If I recall, the school has about one thousand miles of claimed territory for its own personal use. Spes Nova is big, many miscellaneous islands and places were rearranged to make room for this huge, artificial continent… but even so – the place is about twenty thousand miles long. That’s a lot of land, after dominating most of earth’s surface with landmass and rendering parts of the ocean overshadowed. The land to water ratio on Earth went from 30:70 to roughly 60:40, maybe the water mass was indeed somewhere in between 40 and 50.

I’m not exactly certain over these minor details, but one thousand miles of unobstructed land is indeed a lot. Whatever the case was, acres upon acres of land to work with. This is good for them, but finding a book like this is probably like locating a needle in the world’s biggest haystack… or something. Wait… are those...is that even a ‘human language’ on its cover? Dad – err, Fa, Father taught me nearly every language we humans speak, even the most obscure and publicly forgotten or protected ones. I may not be fluent in all of them, but… I know enough to realize this set of markings… is NOT from any alphabet I’ve come in contact with.”

Noel hesitantly walked closer towards the book, not daring to step carelessly for fear he would trigger a trap. Each step lightened, avoiding scattered leaves and misplaced twigs as much as possible. He glanced around cautiously and his nerves rattled violently in the depths of his body. Sure enough, he could feel it. Right now, he was being watched.

He stopped in place and gazed ahead. Intuition told him there was somebody ahead, but his eyes managed no such miraculous sensory feat. He just ‘knew’ there was somebody, or something, there. His gaze slowly shifted, moving to scan in a 360 degree radius.

{...Two gazes. Unfortunately I can’t...Can’t really pinpoint them. I don’t sense any killing intent though. I can surmise there is at least one saving grace here: whoever is watching me, probably wants me to try taking this book.

…

Maybe.

Either that… or this is an ambush since the other guy couldn’t stop me.}

What Noel didn’t know, was the fact that there were still people present, more specifically, an adorable pair of fifteen year old - looking twins staring right at him; one from a tree branch, and the other, a few inches away from his face and standing in the direction Noel previously perceived the male twin’s gaze.

Mar: “Older brother… what are you thinking about? You stare at him as if you’re afraid he’ll disappear the instant you close your eyes. Hehe~”

Mor: “...I guess, this is what father and our predecessors before him felt… out of all the different jobs pertaining to fate… a scribe’s is looked down on the most. After all, we only work with a single person’s fate and influence those around that person in ways to tell a great ‘story’. And the single life we touch, well… that is always … *Steps forward*

...The life which we single – handedly created.

This careless, cautious and obnoxiously prideful boy… is the life that I create 5 years from our time…”

Mar: “Huhuhu~ brother, are you sure? After all, he’s no less than 12. 5 years ago...wouldn’t he have been 7? Should you not be looking for an infant instead?”

Mor: “*Side glances* Mar, remember this. Our Fate palace isn’t obstructed by the concept of ‘time’ unless we allow ourselves to be. If I create him this Earth year, then the soul I made can still be sent tens, hundreds or even thousands of years in the past for this planet. It would be my job to ‘guide’ those years into fruition first, before working on this one. Of course, the job could also be left on autopilot.”

Mar: “Oh brother, you have no sense of humor sometimes. Obviously I know all this. We wouldn’t have been chosen to come here otherwise.

...but….”

Mor: “Don’t say anything else, Mar. I know what you’re thinking with that frown. Haah. Yes, witnessing his accomplishments at such a young age against that toy rock fills me with immense pride. Yet, for his ‘fate’ to be intertwined like this...with these two uncertain factors in this universe:

*Points to book and burnt location where Black cloaked man once stood*

…

And that...strangely intrusive thing in his soul. It really makes me wonder if I should still be proud of this soul’s importance to the current era, or worried that he’ll bring me ruin. After All, it is a fact that a ‘Scribe of Fate’ has their own ‘Fate’ connected to these important souls of different eras. We’re not creator gods or anything like that, who’re responsible for entire populations. Will his story be one about a lucky and virtuous ‘hero’…? A malicious and crazed ‘villain’…? Or a simple gray area, influenced by both sides?

I’m… I’m sort of feeling...”

Mar: “Proud like a parent, worried about your connected fates?”

Mor: “...Yes.”

Mar: “HAHAHA! I shouldn’t laugh, I know~ but… hehehehe, brother, you’ve always wanted to outdo the other scribes before us, right?

‘Scribes of Fate’ – we have the job to record and vaguely influence a single individual’s fate. It’s just, that ‘person’ whose soul is created by a Scribe will almost always be an important figure during an ever changing era. The more important they become, the stronger their creator needs to be to help them avert the myriad of dangers that will no doubt plague them. For a child to have already run into that discarded Alf… and the escaped prisoner of Fate… Brother, you’d better start taking your training seriously~”

Mor: “*Glares* I’m not you. I Always train seriously. But… yes, indeed. In order not to die, I suppose I’ll have to double my efforts to grow stronger from here on out. But Mar… I’m more worried about you. Didn’t you just tell me you felt a stronger connection to that book than before? If that’s the case, then--”

Mar: “Mor~ That’s enough. Whatever Fate has in store for me, I won’t regret it – not in the slightest. Before we go, I would like to meet her at least once. The owner of that book~”

---