Without even seeing her in action, he knew she was the bearer of Order, most likely the original too, just like Arros was. From the tone of her voice and the look in her eyes, she and Arros had been close.
Was it then a coincidence that even in the present age he had t Althea, the Order fragnt bearer, and was close enough to her that he’d regard her as a colleague, and even a friend?
No way.
At this point, Finn knew not to disregard uncanny improbabilities as just coincidences. So he was certain there was more to it than t the eye. He looked back to how he and Althea had t, but couldn’t really conclude that anything about it had been orchestrated.
For the entire duration of his journey to the Seneschal Ossuarist School back in Aethelos, he had been unconscious, trapped in a comatose state caused by the backlash from his soul debts at the ti.
Still, what if it didn’t have to be sothing conscious? What if it was simply their fragnts trying to get closer to each other?
So kind of lover’s story?
Finn didn’t know how to feel about that. He didn’t see Althea in that manner at all, and he also wasn’t fond of the idea of a subconscious will driving him towards an end goal.
I’ll have to be watchful of that from now on... Finn noted.
But then his mind went to the last, and maybe the most important thing that stuck out to him from that dream-mory...
The fact that Transcendents were being celebrated at all!
It stood out to him so sorely that he was still trying to make it make sense.
Did Osmund lie to him about Transcendents and their notorious, unruly ways? Or was that mory from a ti before they beca wanton and uncaring of the world’s balance, causing imnse magical entropy and creating world tears on a whim?
The mory was fading rapidly now, but Finn could still rember Arros’ psyche. The way he had viewed the fact he was being paraded as a hero.
He, along with a score of Transcendents had done sothing heroic at an earlier ti — a much, much earlier ti.
Finn didn’t know what it was, but he knew Arros didn’t like the way his actions during that defining event had been spun into heroic tales.
No... That had to be a much earlier age... Finn concluded after thinking about it carefully. He then put the thoughts aside and used the last bit of clear mory he rembered from the dream, focusing on Arros’ use of Error, trying to gain insight and better his own spells.
It wasn’t until evening before Finn finally opened his eyes again, letting out a slow breath. He stood slowly, legs stiff from sitting cross-legged, and walked to the window.
The sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple. He’d been sitting there for hours, apparently, lost in his attempt at gaining insight.
And he actually seed to have co out of it with benefits.
He touched his eyes, mimicking the gesture Arros had used in the mory.
For a second, he saw nothing as he looked down at his hands. Just his normal palms, familiar and unremarkable.
Then he turned his head up, gazing out the window —
And his vision exploded with information.
Lines. Dozens — no, hundreds of thin lines near every moving object. Birds flying over the distant trees had trajectories mapped in his sight, not just where they were going but where they would be. Points along those flight paths lit up, drawing his attention like magnets.
Flaws. Focal points. They called out to him, highlighting the errors in the birds’ flight path. He imdiately recognized that if he intended to attack these birds, those flaws... those errors were points that ensured a fatal strike.
For a brief few seconds, Finn took it all in, about to start analyzing, but then abruptly, pain lanced through his eyes like hot needles.
His hands instinctively went for his eyes as he squeezed them shut, feeling the sharp, piercing pain reach deep into him like sothing was stabbing directly into his soul through his eye sockets.
His cry ca out in choked, soundless gasps as he fell straight to his knees, shaking with intense tremors.
Through the absurd pain, he felt a wetness on his hands as they touched his eyes.
Blood. Thin streams of it running from the corners of both eyes like crimson tears.
Shit. Stop. Turn off!!
Finn tried to cancel the spell effect... but he couldn’t. The effect was still active, even with his eyes closed. He could feel it trying to process information through his eyelids, straining to map trajectories and find flaws in darkness.
Panic started to bubble up before Finn forced it down with conscious effort.
He re-tried just willing it to stop. But still, nothing changed. The pressure behind his eyes only kept intensifying, as fresh blood trickled down his cheeks.
He cald himself further, fighting through the pain, then rembered the obvious. Even Arros had used a physical gesture to activate the spell effect, and his was exponentially more advanced than Finn’s.
And even Finn himself had done the sa when trying out his basic, inspired version at the start, but sohow, perhaps because of the pain, his thoughts had muddled and he only rembered to also use that physical gesture now.
He quickly tapped his eyelids twice, firmly, while simultaneously willing the effect to cease.
The pressure released imdiately.
The relief was so sudden he nearly collapsed, bracing himself against the wall with one hand while the other wiped blood from his face. His eyes were still closed, but he could tell the effect had finally stopped.
He knelt there for a long mont, breathing carefully, before slowly rising and risking opening his eyes again.
Normal vision. No lines, no highlighted points, no trajectory maps. Just the sunset and the trees and the ordinary world he was used to.
Finn let out a shaky laugh.
How the hell did Arros make that look so casually easy?
What Finn had just experienced was nothing compared to what he’d seen through Arros’s eyes in the mory. A fraction of a fraction of the original’s capability.
Finn had seen flaws in living things’ movents — and even then, only when he directed his attention at specific creatures. It was one thread and one weakness highlighted per target.
Arros had casually analyzed the fabric of reality itself. Seen nurical values for power and fate floating above everyone’s heads. Perceived inevitabilities and probabilities with enough clarity to predict futures and adjust variables on the fly.
Finn’s extrely watered down, inspired version could not even be spoken of in the sa breath as Arros’.
Finn let out a mirthless chuckle, stumbling back to his bed and sitting carefully.
His soul felt... strained. Like a muscle worked past its limits. And his ntal energy was depleted to dangerous levels. If he tried to cast even a simple spell right now, he’d probably pass out.
Without needing to be told, he grimly realized that the [Error Vision] spell he’d just used could not be replicated in a real fight at all.
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