Nexus Awakened (An Isekai LitRPG Gender Bender Story) 700. Between Two Worlds

700. Between Two Worlds

Mae could not win against a Clockwork Prophet. The Sect of Gears were never known for their strength outside of the Clockwork Spindleworm. Indeed, the Clockwork Prophet was not as powerful as the aforentioned monstrosity and barely compared to its equals in the other Impuritas Group.

But where it lacked in strength, they made up for it in overwhelming combat prowess. There were no wasted movents. Everything down to the movent of Mae’s individual strands of hair were pre-calculated prior to the Clockwork Prophet’s arrival.

Any additional deviations were calculated instantaneously through the churning of his Gears.

“Teleportation. It did not occur to us that a Seed could grant a power eerily similar to the Warp Ability of an Angel.” He conversed with the air as Mae was continuously skewered in the exact sa spot no matter how many tis she teleported. “Seeds are the first gateway to absolute power. But they do co with adverse effects, as do the Apples that fall from the sa tree of light.”

Satiation, sustenance, human-like mortality – these were considered drawbacks of the Seed when consud by an Impuritas, whereas those with human-like compositions forfeited it. Maestros, despite how they appeared, did not contain the sa organs as humans.

This was why Mae was so distraught when she felt her innards churn.

“Cease your futile struggle. The Brightest Star will forgive you, no matter what you claim. It has already been set into motion.”

“He… Betrayed us! The brightest Star… BETRAYED US!” Mae countered, coughing blood as she clasped onto the lance that impaled her high into the air. “He’s planning… to BETRAY THE MAESTROS! US! WHY UUUUUUS!?”

Deiman could only watch in horror as her blood trickled down onto his face. Mae violently thrashed, fighting the pain with clenched teeth as she tried to reason with the Clockwork Prophet – to tell her side of the story.

But she received an answer that caused her hands to lose their grip.

“So it would seem.” He spoke like it had always been known. “The Maestros of Flesh are not like us. Far from the compositions that make us connected to our Hearts.”

“What… do you an!? Not like you…? We… We lost a city because of the Amalgam! We had to hold onto the Big Red Heart! How many of us did you send to fight for the Piece of the Fallen Star!? How can you say that we’re different!?”

“The Hearts. Maestros of Flesh have no true collective Heart of their own. They’re seekers of other hearts. The proof was your sole defiance in the face of the Brightest Star. Not so different from the Artists, or the Artisans who ca before.”

Of all the Impuritas Groups, the Maestros of Flesh strangely did not possess a Heart like the other Impuritas. Instead, the beings that gave birth to the Maestros of Flesh were bouncing balls of desires called by the sa na – Hearts, which infected people and transford them into beings like the Maestros of Flesh; Impuritas, but without a Heart.

Sotis, those Hearts could give birth to a being.

Mae ca from one such tiny, red Heart.

“Seekers of hearts of others. That is who you once were. Now that you have a heart of your own, you should rejoice that the Brightest Star seeks to guide you back into our ranks. You can aspire to beco a Star, unlike the false light that are the Aspiring Stars and the Maestros.”

He drew Mae close. She struggled to et the blue light within his Geared head.

“Do you not wish to be granted an Apple?”

“… after… what it’s done to … what makes you think… I’ll trust you and abandon the Maestros…”

“Then, I’ll speak more clearly. Do you want to beco a Star?”

A Star was ultimately what the Maestros of Flesh aspired to beco. But it was different from what the other Impuritas Groups had in mind. A Star for them, was soone like the Green Composer.

Soone that was in the spotlight seen by many.

Sothing that could simply be seen or heard.

And they did this through torturing the flesh to create music. They sought to gain unimaginable acknowledgent through their Instrunts, for they needed to embed themselves into the hearts of others, for they had no Hearts of their own.

Mae would have fallen for the pitfall if she had not experienced the agony of mortality.

She recalled Ara’s words.

Music cos from the soul. The latter is just violence. You’re not tapping into anyone’s hearts.

Mae had no answer for him.

The music of a Maestro of Flesh had no effect on sothing that had no flesh to begin with.

So she asked him with weary eyes:

“First it’ll be us… then it’ll be another, and another… until you’re the one he’ll betray…”

“Chance? Zero percent.”

The Gears spat out red steam as it processed left over biomass. It also gushed from the lance, cauterizing her wound with its imnse heat.

“Prediction correction? One hundred percent. The Astrolabe have already reserved our positions in the skies. Co forth the 10th Act to see its fruition. The finale of this 8th will see us with the key needed to unlock the possibility in the 9th.”

He flung Mae down beside Deiman. She had no strength left to fight off the pain. Deiman stared at her, unflinching in the shadow of the Clockwork Prophet.

“It will be of no loss to us, you whose purpose is lost. Every Gear turns with purpose. Every strike of your cords should do the sa, but instead, you argue and bicker pitifully over what is right, what sounds better… how pitiful.”

He then focused on Deiman.

“Free will is a mistake anded only by purpose. Shell. Broken thorn. A withering flower. The Broken Thorn are interested in you.”

“The Broken Thorn?”

“There is not one sole broken thorn, but many make up the Broken Thorn. Imperfections and those cast out from gardens. Snipped from flowers.”

His body rattled with a heavy clank before he folded into himself, like a black hole was slowly devouring him from the inside out.

“I’m an imperfection?”

“Contrary, young man.”

He further collapsed into himself until all that remained was his head.

“You are an imperfect vessel, but certainly workable as a vessel. A tragedy, that the White Wing could not see eye to eye with the Red Wing. Even more tragic that the Amalgam could not be contained. Otherwise…”

His head disappeared, leaving behind his last whisper.

“… every broken thorn would have a rose of their own.”

He did not know why it left him alone, nor why it disappeared. Deiman felt like he had heard those words before but did not know from where.

The White Wing was a familiar na too.

Suddenly, a flash of white blinded him. The sound of breaking glass and ticking overwheld his mind as he collapsed by Mae’s side, panting like an exhausted dog.

“The White Wing…?”

Another term entered his mind.

“Midas Company…?”

And another.

“Luminal Synchrony.”

Pieces of his mories jabbed at him, but the ticking refused to allow it to invade his mind. He felt the warm light again but did not know what to do or how to ask it to ease the pain.

“Why is it that you want to rember?”

The voice asked.

“… I want to know who I am…”

Footsteps approached them. He ignored them, assuming they belonged to Autumn. That was until he realized they were far too heavy to be hers. They cracked stones and left soft imprints into the cave floor.

Slowly, he cocked his head towards the source.

“R… un… Deiman… plea… se… run…”

His heart dropped.

The mont the light had entered his chest, and the mont the ticking had beco so profound that he could not hear his own heartbeat was when he felt the dull ache of despair impale his chest.

“There he is. Deiman, the Demi-Human. That’s the thing you wanted to protect?”

The man from earlier held a severely broken Autumn by the hair, dragging her up till her feet could no longer touch the ground. All four limbs were broken, and she hung there like an unstrung puppet.

“A Shell has nothing to draw from. But there is a light that desperately wants to make it so.”

“Shouldn’t he be the one trying to protect you? Demi-Human. This is the result of your cowardice. Go on.”

He then hurled Autumn in front of his feet.

“R… run… Leave … go…”

And she still tried to protect him.

Deiman did not know where her face began, and where the wounds ended. He had seen the sa sight countless tis, so why was it different here? Was it the voice? The warmth? The sound of birds or the ticking?

He did not know.

All he knew was that he could not bear to see Autumn like this.

And neither could he possible challenge that man with the way he currently was.

With his mories suddenly returning in small snippets, and the noises within his head skewing his sense of reality –

– He was unable to avoid a strike to the face by the man.

“You can listen to my voice, Deiman. I can exalt the gnosis of your spark of Light.”

“A bird fights its way out of the Shell.”

“The Shell is the world.”

“Who would be born must first destroy a world.”

“Destroy the Shell, so that you can be anew.”

The man’s hand was repulsed by an invisible force, throwing him ters backwards.

“A barrier!? No… what was that?”

Deiman stood eerily still in contemplation, his eyes vacant as though he was staring at otherworldly spirits.

Another voice called out to him monts before he gave into the ticking call.

“Do you want to fight your way out of the Shell?”

It was a kinder voice. The chirps of morning birds accompanied it as the warmth in his heart enveloped the shadow of doubt cast by the ticking. It didn’t ask him why, or how.

It only asked if he wanted to.

“I want to save them… Autumn… was the only human after Frost to take care of . I want to understand what I’m feeling right now!”

Deiman had entered a state where his desire to rescue Autumn had exceeded his wish to understand himself. The desire was like a blade that pierced his Shell as he felt sothing begin to fill his empty heart.

Unlike the ticking he had always heard, which suppressed his emotions and mories –

“Then I shall make it so.”

– This warmth enabled them to exist.

A pair of tiny wings appeared on his back. They were not larger than his hands. One was black and dripped with darkness, whereas the other was made of light. A mask appeared over his face, one half black and the other white as both voices then called out to him simultaneously.

“Take my hand and I shall show you the way.”

One representing shadows…

“Hold onto to mine, and we will find the way truest to you.”

And the other of the light.