Threads of the Soul

Staring at that single page, Seth held the book in front of him with a trembling hand. With slow, intentional movements, he placed the journal down onto the desk and took a seat.

Once he was situated in his seat, he didn't delve into the book for answers, he simply continued staring at that single page as if it contained all the secrets of the universe, instead of a single mans name. It wasn't even that uncommon of a name, but it was his teachers name nonetheless.

He hadn't spent much time with his teacher, he had been... busy. Busy with so many things, but even then it had always been in the back of his mind that he would have more time. That he could get around to getting to know him better, to understanding his life before as well as his ambitions for the future. That he would finally get around to asking his name.

He could have never believed that the only way he would find out such information, would be in a book after his teacher had died. There wasn't anymore time and there never could be.

Seth had seen plenty of death in the past few months, more than he ever would have expected to see in his entire life, yet this one was the first death of someone he had been somewhat close to. It simply... hit different than seeing a stranger gored to death.

Eventually, after a full ten minutes of simply staring at that one page and contemplating the feeble mortality that had been thrust into every single one of their lives, Seth reached forward and tenderly touched the page.

Lifting it gingerly, as if it was an ancient scroll being touched for the very first time, Seth turned the page and took in the words littering the next page. It seemed to be some kind of introductory, or perhaps a journal entry, written in his teachers handwriting.

The main difference was, unlike the 'cover' writing, this was written in regular black ink instead of what seemed to be blood. It read as follows;

"My dear student,

I am unsure of how this 'bequeathment' business works exactly, but I have confidence that should anything awry happen that this information will end up in your hands somehow. I understand that the world is changing once again, a man as old as myself is used to such things. I have seen the world change more times than you can imagine, but I feel this change will be my last.

The world has grown into a more dangerous place, and I am no fool to believe that nothing will happen to me, even with these wonderful protectors. Perhaps the fates will allow me the chance to hand you this myself as I lay upon my death bed, but I doubt this new world could ever be so kind. Thus, I have prepared myself for the worst and will keep preparing until that fateful day finally comes.

Over these last few days, I have seen the diligence you possess towards your studies. I cannot count the times I have seen you pass out at that desk only to wake up again to continue studying. It is truly inspiring. I feel as if my heart is beating within my chest once more, lit with the fire of competition. How could I be outclassed by a youngster?

I am your teacher, after all. How could I teach if you know more than me? It's unacceptable.

However, I see within you that not only do you have a mind destined to be filled with all the wonderful new information this dangerous new world has to offer, but you have the spirit necessary to ensure that you understand it, even when the world is dragging you down along with it.

Any fool could memorise the words from a page if he stared at them for long enough, but only a truly gifted mind would be able to peer deeper and unlock the secrets held within. It is my belief, my hope, that you will be that mind.

Contained within the following pages is the knowledge I have been gifted by this new world, as well as the understandings I have come to about the items you were so kind as to gift to me.

I swore to you that in repayment for those items, I would gift unto you my knowledge. Well this is such a gift. This is my bequeathment to you. Use it well, and show the power that knowledge can wield. The world needs not just a strong fist, but a powerful mind and a resilient heart. Study well.

Sincerely, Julius Reddington (though you have yet to ask)"

Letting out a melancholic sigh, Seth slumped back into his seat as he rubbed his face a few times as if it would help disperse the overwhelming guilt that was building up inside of him.

It didn't.

He read over the page again once then twice followed by a third time and so on until he had read it dozens of times. Only one he had memorised each and every word on that page, and could repeat them like a mantra, did Seth finally begin to flick through the book of Teacher Julius' knowledge.

Despite the 'bequeathment' having been jammed inside of his own journal, it was formatted in such a way that it was as if it had always belonged inside of his journal. Whether that was the guardians doing, or simply the amazing insight of his teacher, Seth could never know, but he felt it wouldn't hurt to attribute it to the latter.

The pages beyond were filled to the brim of runic knowledge. There were some pages dedicated to how to write the runes themselves, including examples of possible combinations to create certain results, such as creating an explosion or even healing. Further on there were notes about what to use when writing said runes, detailing his experimentation not just with different writing utensils, such as pen and pencil, but also how you could carve it into objects or what type of ink to use.

From a brief glance over this section, it seemed as if not only did the ink matter, if you were using such a thing, but the material they were written on mattered just as much. As far as he could tell, from a cursory glance, it was about how well the materials could store and circulate the mana.

It was like using gold wiring instead of copper, or a large battery instead of a small one that would overload and explode in your hand. A concept Seth was absolutely not interested in experiencing, since he was pretty attached to his hand. It was the only one he had left, after all.

Overall, however, it was a fascinating subject that would require a lot of time, effort and especially a lot of trial and error to get right. His teachers notes were mainly on the types of inks, papers and carving materials, such as wood or certain precious metals, that their previous society, and that he himself, had access to.

It would be up to Seth to take his teachings further and discover what the new world had to offer on the subject. Would an evolved tree be better than an unevolved one? Or perhaps certain species of trees would be better? Would monster blood make for a good ink, or perhaps even his own?

There was a lot of experimentation to be done with this subject alone, and there was much more contained within the book, such as his teachers research into the carvings the Hemogoblins used. He seemed to have quite the stack of notes pertaining to his reverse engineering process.

It would be good to figure that out and finally see if he could put these stones to good use. Speaking of those stones, he only had one left. Seth could have sworn he had a pair of them, but perhaps he miscounted.

Alas, he had used the rest to test out if he could make his own summoned minions by channelling mana into the stones and using them himself with various monster blood. He had been hoping to be able to summon a human-like minion, such as a blood knight, or just a Hemogoblin loyal to himself. But such experiments were always a failure.

No matter what he did, every time he used them they would always result in a Hemogoblin that would always attack on sight, as if their vile instincts were programmed into them from birth. He also could not get anything to spawn from any other liquid, only ever blood.

Gently closing the book, Seth let out another sigh at the weight of the knowledge before him. He would have to dedicate a lot of his future time to experiments on the subject of runes and the variety of their uses, perhaps he could also use this journal to educate others.

He was sure that his teacher didn't put in all this work for the knowledge to die with him. That was the purpose of the library after all, to collect and spread knowledge. So that is exactly what Seth intended on doing, once he understood it enough to confidently teach it, that is.

But all that was issues for future Seth, present Seth was focused on a different matter than the one sitting before him. Leaning back in his chair, as his eyes stared into space, Seth turned his mind to one of his puppets.

It wasn't Corvus, who was still outside pretending to be busy, nor was it the statues who were patrolling under the control of his Spirit Animal. Instead, it was little Geets. His wonderful little spy in the form of a shonen figurine.

The figurine he had stow themselves away on one of the kidnapped bodies and who had disappeared along with the Shadow Panther he let live.

The vision for Geets had, for the most part, been a series of blackening and brightening as the Panther darted between shadows with its kill and teleported throughout the city, afraid of being pursued. Only when those rapid teleportations stopped, and Seth was sure they had arrived at their destination, did he have Geets poke his little spiky haired head out of the corpses clothing to have a look around.