The light of the morning sun streamed into Gaius’ new home, and he got up slowly. He looked around blearily, and for a moment, he wasn’t sure where he was. This wasn’t the interior of the Unity, nor was it his room back in Upper Elysium, or the tent he had been resting in during the Conference of the Four.

No, this was his current dwellings after he entered this virtual world, Cybral. His head was throbbing as he got up, and the boy hugged his knees a moment later. Right now, his soul — or his mind; he wasn’t sure which was which — was in the original Orb, the one spoken of in legends, which had then entered Cybral at the Chanter of Innocents’ prodding.

It was definitely an improvement over the bleak landscape of the true Orb, but that didn’t stop him from feeling lonely and worried. His body was probably recovering from the sheer amount of damage it had taken from fighting off that rampaging Demigod, and he could even picture Nakama and Isabelle staring at his unmoving form worriedly.

He sighed, and then got up, tearing his eyes away from the brown walls of his current home.

This little house was a present from the officials of City No.2558. It wasn’t much to sneeze at, but for a single person, it was more than enough to live in. Apparently, it was no skin off their back, and after making promises to attract people with lots of energy salts to left, the friendly officials of 2558 had left for home.

“There’s no one but me here,” Gaius muttered. “When did I get used to having people around me?”

His question lingered around for a few more moments, dissipating as the boy picked up a knife. Selecting a few good blocks of wood, Gaius headed outside, where the others had set up a little table and chair for him in the makeshift courtyard. The artificial sun shone down on him, but he wasn’t feeling the heat.

This was due to the Climate Control Ability.

Pinnacle Kolya had told him about this indirectly. For a Lord to become a Paragon, he or she had to go through something called a Reckoning. The contents of this mental trial differed from person to person, but the one thing that every rendition of the Reckoning was that only the person’s mind would enter.

How one viewed themselves in their head was crucial to their Reckoning. Their self-image would be made manifest, and most crucially, along with any passive Abilities their Engine had. And it seemed that this principle still carried over to Cybral and even the original Orb. Gaius could use all his passive Abilities here, which made him probably something like a monster if someone native to this world were to see it.

His knife began to scrape off some wood. Gaius didn’t have anything else to do, and besides, the others had promised to send people his way. Although he wasn’t sure if he was afflicted by the same need of soulforce that everyone in this world had, it was still a good idea to be prepared for emergencies. And besides, he would still get hungry.

His little house was one of many in a long street. Most of them were clearly made for living, but a few shops had been set up. At first glance, it was evident that each of these shops were enjoying a minor monopoly; one of them dealt with sustenance, another dealt with household items, and another for high-tech items like televisions, fridges and the like.

How those high-tech items worked was a question Gaius really wanted an answer to. From the looks of it, Cybral was a world that placed convenience first; electronic devices didn’t need electricity to operate, apparently. Most of these devices were cordless, and even seemed to work without using any energy for free, somehow.

Gaius spent a few more minutes thinking about how illogical the whole thing was, and then returned to his carving.

“Don’t you adapt to things too quickly?” A voice came from beside him, and Gaius looked up at the Chanter of Innocents. The old man’s eyes were filled with surprise, and despite his melancholy, the boy couldn’t help but smile.

“That’s a strength of mine, I guess.” Gaius paused. “Am I going to be stuck here for a long time?”

“To you, not really. For you, after a year passes, you should be waking up,” Weiwu said.

“For me?” Gaius asked.

“Time flows slower here,” the Chanter of Innocents replied. “For the outside world, three years will have passed. Your companions just returned home, but they’ve actually dug out some miraculous item that’s able to heal you somehow.”

“Three years…” Gaius sighed. “They must have used the Crystal of True Restoration. I thought I would be using it for Isabelle or Nakama, but to think I have to use it again. Fate is truly a complex thing.”

“Fate?” Weiwu shook his head. “No. It is a product of your choices. Your choices, though limited at first glance by prevailing circumstances, were all results of your thought processes. Should you have time, I recommend that you think about it for a bit.”

Gaius eyed the great god suspiciously, and then looked down at the tree he carved. “But who’s to say that even my thought processes remain my own? From Scorpio’s words, it seems that the Human God is able to distort one’s cognitive processes.”

“…that’s not out of the realm of impossibility, but by now, any such distortions will no longer have a hold on you. You are my chosen, or rather, the chosen of the Crying Abyss,” Weiwu replied. “Although they aren’t really aware of anything anymore.”

Gaius felt some odd sense of camaraderie with Weiwu. Now that he thought about it, the great god had been alone ever since he awoke.

Just like the me now. And once my mortal life is over. The boy sighed, and placed the finishing touches on the sculpture in his hand. Raising it up, he examined the sculpture of a little sapling, and then brushed away whatever wooden shavings that remained.

He tossed it at the old god, who caught it with his left hand.

“A gift for me?”

“From one who finally understands another,” Gaius replied.

“This was not how I wanted you to understand me,” Weiwu replied, a sad smile on his face.

He picked up another block of wood, and then began to work once more.

“I’ll check on you once in a while. More and more people are becoming Knights, or climbing the ranks of semi-divinities. My work is cut out for me,” said the Chanter of Innocents. “Oh, someone’s coming. I’ll make a move first.”

Before Gaius could say anything, the old god vanished with a pop. A moment later, a bunch of young men waddled over into his little makeshift courtyard. One of them, clearly the leader, walked up and looked at Gaius. “I’ve seen your work. And I want you to make something.”

The boy placed down his knife. “Go on.”