Subject ZN having developed some manner of direct communication between the Upper and Lower Cognitive Plane explains every inconsistency with her previously observed performance, and promises the potential invention of an entirely novel Twin Intertwined Branch. If this is the case, however, I suspect she likely possesses a robust pre-existing connection with the Lower Cognitive Plane, as she seems to have entirely skipped the initial stages of struggle for control. Her making contact with a Hyperborean Descendant - Subject JH - implies further promise, considering their practice of the Despot of Self-adjacent “Spiritwalking” cultivation branch.

Such free intermixing of cultivation methods has been entirely unprecedented since the height of the Enlightenment Era in the 2300s - conflict-induced breakdown of societal norms does not always have negative consequences.

I intend to prioritize further non-intervention observation of Subject ZN for the foreseeable future.

Tags: Fulgurkinesis, Elementalism, Deivorous Cultivation, Spiritual Cultivation, High-risk Initial Bottleneck, Resistance-type Advancement, Breath-as-Fuel, Altered Classical Branch

A slightly rough, stream-of-consciousness report, but that didn’t matter. The calligraphy was mainly for fun and to help transfer his thoughts on and memories of the events and topics described into mnemoglyph, and his editor raven golems would fix the wording.

Another toke of the pipe, sip of tea, and new tablet.

Year of His Glory, the Architect, 4713

Arkatek Development Report No. T3865-C9

Monikers: Fulgur-Igneic Reactor, God Furnace

Arkatek Type: High-output Long-term Power Generation, Class 7

“Where to start with this one…” he muttered to himself, mulling over the veritable maelstrom of thought swirling about in his brain pertaining to this particular topic. In the scant few minutes that the White-robed Brother spent ruminating as such, his brother came storming out of the manor, seething with open fury unbefitting his curt, but otherwise controlled nature.

“That’s it, I told you what I would do if you intervened. I tell you not to drop so much as a rice grain on the scales and you drop a whole damn sackful, you careless fool!” howled the Black-robed Brother as he strode across the courtyard, his fury betrayed by his failure to conceal his aura; that seething lilac glow spilling forth from his eyes, the veritable maelstrom of power swirling about him, so intense it would be visible even to a half-blind mortal. The White-robed Brother wagered that, were his brother to get any angrier, his affinity for the heavenly elements would begin to influence the weather.

Ever gracious in his own insufferable calm, the White-robed Brother took another toke of his pipe and began writing his next report, turning his gaze to meet his brother’s as he did so.

“Whatever could you be speaking of, dear brother?” he asked. “I did no more than observe the mortals in their daily goings-on and collect knowledge for my archives… Well, alright, I did indulge in my wandering musician persona, but I took care to only play contemporary music using contemporary instruments. I am innocent of whatever intervention you accuse me of, and I will repeat that under a truth geas if necessary.”

He could feel his brother’s rage and rancor waning, replaced by a familiar mixture of frustration and annoyance as he started on an exaggerated tirade: “Was it not by your hand that the homunculus obtained the Great Work of Sagruhel Ironhand, Supreme Sword-saint, the Man-Become-Sword, Slayer of the World Serpent of the Sands, the Despot of Self? WAS IT NOT BY YOUR INTERFERENCE THAT THAT VERY SCROLL WAS CREATED?!”

“I know not what you speak of. Ironhand’s legacy is entirely his own, I was but a footnote,” lied the White-robed Brother with a smile, sipping his tea. “A convenient old man. Once more, I am innocent of what you accuse me of.”

“Again with the claims of innocence?!” the Dark-robed Brother laughed in disbelief. “Were it not for your interference, that thrice-damned “Despot of Self” would have succumbed to his curse as he should’ve! You not only pointed him the way out, but broke our most sacrosanct vows and outright gave him that eponymous Ironhand of his! I’ll never let you-”

“You’ll never let me live it down, I understand,” sighed the White-robed Brother, ceasing his work as he put down the stylus and stared up at his younger brother in earnest. “It worked out in the end, did it not? I took great care to ensure the WDX-79 Hyper Reflex Prosthesis had a proper anti-tamper seal and made him well aware that it would fall to pieces if he tried to reverse-engineer it.”

“That’s not my point and you know it, quit deflecting,” snapped the Black-robed Brother. “She has the scroll now, and has clearly put it to use - who knows what kind of effect this will have if she teaches the Walking Way of the Despot of Self to others?”

“Reiterating your point louder will do no good. I learned of the scroll’s presence on the Continent as recently as you did,” the White-robed Brother rebuked. “Last I knew, it was securely at its resting place within the Spear of Glass.”

“I checked, it’s still there!” exclaimed the younger one in exasperation. “Whatever you did - or failed to do, for that matter - resulted in multiple copies being made without our knowledge. Like it or not, this is your fault. This undue weight upon the scales must be redressed, whether I want it to be or not - the wall is coming down.”

“Come now, such drastic recourse is not necessary. If you insist on this course of action - and the repercussions it will entail through my resultant willingness to intervene in a similar manner - we can come to a more reasonable conclusion.”

“Very well,” conceded the Black-robed Brother. “Make your case.”

“I go inside the wall and manually reduce the Isolation Factor down to four. The gates will no longer selectively decide who they let through based on disposition and intent, instead employing a spiritual sieve to prevent entities beyond a certain spiritual volume from passing through, a ceiling which will naturally raise over time until the wall naturally drops down to an Isolation Factor of three,” the White-robed Brother suggested, taking great satisfaction in his ability to have kept the information that this was even possible from his brother for millennia - even more so considering the fact the wall was his brother’s Magnum Opus.