Day Four
"My name is Takeus Longclock. That is the first thing I know. I do not remember when I got here. I do not know where I am. I do not know how I got here.

Those memories, my most recent memories, I know they are still in there. Inside my head. Yet I can not see them. Can not reach them. A fog rolls within my mind, casting a shadow and obfuscating my consciousness. My memories of getting here are barely within reach. Someone did this to me. Someone who knows when, where, and how I got here. I need to find that someone...

The other thing I know is my mission. To study. To catalog. To share knowledge. I am an archivist. I am a scholar. I am an adventurer. I find myself here in this realm. Far from home. How far? Only the Kroniisiah would know. None of the locals fully understand my tongue nor appreciate it. Some would even shun me for speaking Holo-Imperial. Such an odd taboo.

Here I lie in front of a library, my eyes affixed to its architecture and design. History oozes from its very crevices. Both literally and figuratively, as if the glowing pink moss and cracks are any indication of age. The name of the library is carved above the doorframe, written in the local tongue. My understanding of it is so severely limited, leaving me no choice but to ask a passing scholar for its pronunciation. Condescendingly, I received my answer; Ayakkayoli Amoxcalli. Or it once was. Seems that the locals insisted on keeping me in the dark. Such is the fate of a Holo-Imperial in these lands.

The name of the library is outdated. I understood this after I glanced to my right. There lies a sign, hastily constructed out of planks with words painted in brush. It may not be Holodhennet but it is, to my surprise and relief, written in a much more familiar tongue, the script of the Niji Continent.

'Kastoria Librarium, Syndeonia.'

It seems that Syndeonia had acquired itself a new territory."

---

A /vtwbg/ tale by a /meat/Anon

SOJOURNING

Sometimes Forbidden Knowledge Should Stay That Way

Day Seven

"As I walk down the steps of my home, various chatter and giggles fall onto my right ear. A peek to the side, a quick glance, is enough to see the sources. A duo of ladies, scholars judging by their uniforms, are having a chat. I may be just an earshot away but I could easily make up the topic of their conversation; me.

Standing out here in public, I stick out like a sore thumb. My own clothes, my accessories, even down to my physical movements. They can tell I am a visitor. One from the Holo Empire none the less.

It has been almost a week since I came here. Have I figured out the hows and whys? Not yet. But what I had been able to figure out is the local tongue.

As the ladies chat, I could make up some words such as 'travel' and 'foreign'. There were no hint of maliciousness in their speech. Merely observation, like seeing an exotic animal.

As for how I was able to conceive their tongue on my mind? It was second nature shockingly. Instinctively, I can understand them by heart. Yet I've only been here for the first time in my life. Yet there is a sensation of familiarity in their language. It is as if I heard the words and vocabularies before.

It was only yesterday morning the revelation hits. As I sat by in my room reading the morning parchment, words that I have seen before materialised; '-yotl', '-akkoli', '-tlan'. These were suffixes that exist in the tongue of the southern God-Eaters of Matiyotl.

For months I had been living with the peoples of Matiyotl, even as to far as working with the Vikingrchiuhqui employed by my superiors to quell civil unrest within my homeland's countryside. In conclusion, the language spoken by the natives of Ayakkayoli had similar words and grammar as the Meatheads of Matiyotl.

Were they the same people? No. Far from it. The people here dress and act much differently than those I've been with before. Save for their tongue.

A thought raced through my mind the whole day ever since I made this connection. Maybe that's the reason I am here. Someone needed me. An outsider who can understand the locals. But for what?"

---

Day Negative Twelve

"The New World?" the words escaped my lips as I my eyes scan at the details laid out on map. On paper the plan was simple. The trajectory was laid out. The ship was docked in the western coast. If the execution is done perfectly then it will be sent here, to the northeast of Schizograd. A simple procedure to execute and a short route mainly for the sake of cutting domestic costs.

It was until;

"They... did not arrived at the location. In fact, they did not appear anywhere near this island at all." scratching his beard, the general takes a second to correct his posture before landing his finger on the map. A region somewhere in the middle of the eastern continent. A desert in the Confederational Emirates of VOMS.

"Here. They landed somewhere in this general region. As you could tell immediately, that is much much further than we ever anticipated. Equipment error? Calibration error? Not a chance. Our master Clocksmiths were present during the operation. We doubled-checked. None were high on Kronii Milk at the time."

Such a tragedy. To be sent hundreds of kilometers beyond your homeland. To land in a place foreign, no foreign is far from it. They were sent to a place where the shadow of the HLG Imperial influence does not exist. Who knows what kind of bizarre predicament they will find themselves in.

"And we knew of this now because?" skeptically, I give the general a piercing gaze. This matter was not recent. According to the logs, it happened almost a year ago, even before my involvement with decapitating Ourobros cells in Schizograd.

"Not my choice to bring up a dead horse, but the circumstances called for it. The Clocks over at the Bureau were good at covering up incidents. But the Ourobros, they were already there. Now that word is out we can no longer bury it again." the general pinches his forehead as he leans back. The circumstance leading to this meeting surely took a toll on his mental physique.

"That's where you come in. No one is better at snooping around in foreign customs than you. If we need a delegate to get the boys back home then you are our Kronie." the words left a mark on my esteem. It is as if I am some kind of last minute ambassador, not a scribe that I am.

"Wouldn't the Adventurers Guild be a better source of... talents for this sort of mission?" I asked him. Surely the multitude of priestesses, technomages, and clock knights were more suited for venturing in foreign lands.

"We need to minimise any form of publicity. Keeping it low guarantees its legacy as a footnote in our history. Not something you want to see on my biography or any master Clockwork. Hiring any big shot adventurer will bring in unnecessary attention from the masses. We do not want another... Admiral Jovial incident." the general's tone was tiresome at the end there. A name he clearly distrusts.

"Which one in particular? The time he choke slammed a schizotroll in the Imperial Court, that explosion in Ahoy, or the time he got caught using Risuners as meat shields?" I asked, bringing a couple of Jovial's more recent adventures for contextual clarification.

"All of them."

---

Day Eight

It is two o'clock in the afternoon.

I count my belongings. Ensuring that I do not miss a single water bottle nor should I bring an extra can of food, or beans with rye as the locals called it. The winds of change came this morning as I went through my daily routine.

I met someone, a contact, as she called herself, who came to me as I was doing my research. It was the usual, reading the local reference, translating them, and cross-referencing with the notes I brought with me. It was a shot-in-the dark, mostly. Hoping that something matches and clicks. Bringing back even a minor scratch’s worth of memory back to me.

As I had my nose deep within the scrolls, a thud fell right in front of me. Someone slammed the table with a letter beneath the palm.

Looking up, I saw the perpetrator breaking my attention; a woman, young looking with a petite figure. Her hair is short and a mix of brown with violet in-between. She introduces herself as an adventurer, presenting her badge as proof of her legitimacy and affiliation. She said that the local adventurer’s guild had a new rumour on its grapevine. A visitor from the Holo Continent. Lo-and-behold, she went out and tracking me down, staring at me eye-to-eye.

I asked her why would she bother to waste her time to investigate me. In fact, the locals in this town know how not of a threat I am. I asked if my presence with her warranted anything.

She mentioned that when the locals talked about a Kronie who just appeared one day, forgetting how he came here, then it warrants one. She denied it being a serious issue. Merely stating that she was curious. Being so far from the Empire, separated by a grand ocean, visitors like myself rarely come by unless there is an extremely important reason. Primarily, those who frequently travel between the seas are adventurers. Performing tasks nigh-impossible to be completed on one corner of the planet. Curiosity got the best of her, and she only wanted to lend a helping hand.

That is when I noticed the way she talks. I have been understanding her clearly. Her tongue is of the Empire, she was speaking Holodhennet. My emotions were juggling. On the one hand, I felt glad that someone took the liberty of their time to try and help me. But another part of me questions about her true motive. Were there something else on her mind? Have she figured out why I forgot my trip here? Or is she merely here for the reward and payment, as all adventurers do? I got my answer as I open the letter she presented to me. An illustration of places I have been prior to arriving in this town. My eyes widened as these places tugged something in the back of my head. It may have been a week, but I could feel the faint sense of nostalgia.

She said that while I spent my days buried deep within parchment and paper; she questioned the locals and tracked my movements prior to arriving here. The earliest known report of my presence was at the border of the VOMS Emirates and the Ayakkayoli Empire. I have been travelling west since, before finding myself crossing into the lands of Syndeonia. Settling down within this former Ayakkayolian-now Syndeonian, town of Kastoria.

I remember nothing about travelling a distance that far. Even my belongings showed no signs of interstate travel. No wears to tears, no sand nor silt. The woman mentions that some locals in Ayakkayoli said that I was not travelling alone.

I had an escort. With a carriage too. Describing my partner to be someone who ‘wears clothes like me, and speaks like me’.

Another Kronie? Why would they lead me here? Wait. How was she able to gather that much information between two large nations within a week? Responding to my latest question, she giggled and told me never to question the efficiency of adventurer’s guilds. And telecommunication devices. She answered as she presents to me her Guild’s standard issue psychic communicators. A crown-like device meant to be worn around one’s head with pieces of crystallised Vtubium adorning it, forming a complex circuitry. A sophisticated and extremely dangerous equipment for transmitting thoughts between immense distances only to be used by veteran Catalognauts everywhere. I know of them as I’ve seen a couple of Kronie Catalognauts using them, from a technomage who slain a writhing Hopium drake and a clock-knight who blew up an Ourobro cell with his fists. They are only given to the most seasoned of Catalognauts. Veterans who have seen their fair-share of the dark secrets of this world. Beyond the Hopium and Copium aether of the Catalog itself. This woman and her history are far above my expectations.

As for my prior question, without a word, the adventuress responded by taking back the letter and putting it away within her satchel. Affirmatively, I told her I was not finished studying it. She gave a quick smile and wagged her fingers mischievously. If I want to know more, I would have to cooperate because, in her own words, she is having fun and would like me to join her.

I knew there was a catch. This adventuress wants me to join her if I ever want to get more answers. But luckily it was not a terrible deal. I have spent a week studying all I could. I needed something to break the monotony.

Before she moved on, she asked me for a simple request; to tell her the time. Typical, an old Kronie stereotype. Might as well humour my one saving grace. I gently put my hand inside my sack and pull out a small pocket watch. Sunlight gleams off its chrome cover, depicting the Kronissiah's blessed serpent. A traditional heirloom for any pious faithful of the Warden. With a click, I uncover the watch and read out the time; ten minutes to nine. With that out of the way, the adventuress gave me a smile and headed out of the library, all the while reminding me to rendezvous back here sometime in the evening once I've finished getting ready.

And here I am, managing my belongings for the journey ahead. We planned to travel back to the Emirates through the route I had taken beforehand. Almost instantly too. By the time I returned to the library, the adventuress presented to me two bags full of equipment and supplies. From preserved foods to necessities such as rope and oil.

I was stunned. I never knew adventurers needed this plenty. The lady reassures that all of this was necessary for we will be heading out immediately. We will leave Kastoria and, based on the path I had taken days before, head north into the Ayakkayoli borders and soon east into the Emirates. I was flummoxed. Such a cross-country travel would take days by foot. Even as I told her of this fact, the adventuress reassures me that all is taken care of from her side. A vehicle was prepared somewhere at the edge of town. Something that could help us travel over long distances, and through punishing environments, with very low maintenance.

I was intrigued. For such a vehicle to exist the locals must have been masters of chuubanite engineering. In truth that may had been a gullible reaction but seeing as the girl before me is an esteemed seasoned adventuress, she must have enough merit to back her words. How long will this journey take? It depends. Only the Kronissiah knows what is in store for our future. But for now, I have a partner by my side to help me uncover this mystery. As for her name? Misaki.

---

Day Negative Eight

As I began my day, I saw that my thoughts were gradually wandering away from me. Every passing day brought me closer to the eventual conclusion of this situation. The aim was straightforward: I would be the next subject of the enormous esoteric clockwork mechanism. In principle, the machine should transport me to the same spot where the lost ship landed. However, I am not prepared for the procedure in between.

Consequently, I require an introduction to my voyage. Someone who is familiar with the uncharted territory I shall shortly traverse.

A prestigious school casts a shadow on my appearance. Its sparkling roof reflected the morning sun's radiance into my eyes. With each strenuous step, I ascend the marble staircase. I gazed up at the placard hung above me on the brick wall. On a dark blue plaque, the words 'Infinity & Sons. National Defense' were inscribed in silver and chrome lettering. One of the most esteemed defense contractors in all of Infinitum. It has over a thousand enhanced vtubium users in its ranks, its name is prominently published in the memoirs of Infinitumite army leaders, and it employs a few of Catalognauts. Which I shall meet today.

I entered the premises by following the signage and the receptionist's instructions. Soldiers of both the physical and esoteric varieties marched beside me with a brisk gait. I am observing the courtyard. A parade. The foot infantry carry their muskets with dignity as the clock-knights salute behind them. One grenadier was cleaning his musket on the sidelines while the magician he was speaking with fiddled with a clockwork gadget. Both wear on their uniforms insignia portraying the Kronissiah's blessed serpent, Boros.

I sensed the air moving around me. Something seems amiss. It's chilly. And it's getting colder. With each step I took into the academy's deeper portions, a chilly breeze brushed past me. A large staircase stands before me. Easy does it. One, two, thr- I paused. I gazed ahead of me. A pale cloud. I was able to see my own breath.

The young military officer ran up the staircase. I determined from his badge that he is a logistics officer. His visage was as frigid as the air around him. His face was flushed and his forehead was perspiring. There was no shivering or longing for warmth. How much vitality do these troops possess?

Another round, and I go further inside the academy. Oh? This is an unexpected occurrence. I stopped my stride as I saw two men of slim build pass by. Their outfits are as pristine as they were when I first met them. On their arms was a chuubanite-infused vegvisir tattoo. The death whistle dangled around their necks. Their helmets and jade masks inspire terror in our adversaries. The Matiyotl Varangians. My former comrades in arms.. I quickly, almost reflexively, lifted my fists towards the sky. A symbol of the Matiyotl Vikingr and their troops' camaraderie. The pair noticed my gesture and does so in return. With a nod, I continued down the hallway. Since the apostate uprising is now under control, the Varangians are seldom seen in Infinitum.

In a large room, my adventure came to a finish. With each exhale, the actualization of my breaths physically obscures my eyesight. A pair of wooden doors were before me. The chandelier in the ceiling is still. Frost could be seen in the gaps of the wall, which, like the rest of the institution, was constructed of brick and marble. The wall plaque reads, "Ordo Catalognaut." Here, the school houses the most powerful Chuubanite magic-users.

As I opened the door, I felt a chilling slush on my skin. A cold feeling comparable to that of winter winds. I closed my eyes as flying ice particles and the brilliant lights of the room beyond obscured my vision. My fingers couldn't withstand the cold. My hands were unable to grasp the door handles. The cold metal is unpleasant to the touch. The gusts continued to blow the doors off their hinges.

"Close the doors, techno-scribe!" yelled a wind-borne voice. It was strict and urgent. Indeed, a person of authority. As my eyes slowly opened, I swiftly swung around and grasped the double doors' frozen handles. Pulling them back into place, blocking the breeze from leaking into the outside corridor.

I fix my stance shakily. My eyes concentrate as a person comes into vision; she was approaching me slowly. A regal bearing, with the head raised high, the hands in the form of fists, and a solemn expression. She was wearing a light coat in the national colours of light grey and dark blue. Her hair finishes at her shoulders, an orrery-like clockwork mechanism around her head and contributing to her vanity. She stopped immediately in front of me. Maple and rust aromas emanating from her.

"Stop shaking, scribe." she ordered with an extended arm towards me. She had something in her hand. A brooch with a chunk of Kroniium. A portable heater. I quickly seize the equipment with my cold, numb hands. I placed my thumb on the glyph embedded on its back, causing the brooch to emit a gentle click. Instantaneously, I felt a calming wave permeate my fingers and hands. Warmth. Divine warmth. My lethargic and submissive condition of mind and body is revitalised as the warmth travels throughout my body. I adjust my posture by standing tall and addressing her directly in the eyes.

"Good?" questioned the lady. Her eyes were roving over me. Analysing. Creating mental connections. "You should've known better than to waltz all the way in here without proper heating."

"I... I was not told of that." The response evaporated from my lips and condensed like a mist. It was the truth. I was never made aware of this environment. Unless there was but the recollection has since gone from my memory. "What's with the temperature? Malfunctioned heating? No. That does not account for the ice."

"Security precautions," the lady says as she approaches the wall. She taps the wall with her right index finger. I approach to examine. There. Almost invisible was, I believe, a narrow strip of alloy. Metallic and chuubanite materials sandwiched between bricks. I instantly recognised what it is.

"A... a circuit?" I had a look around. Baffled. The room was identical to all others in the building. Shelves, tables, and bookcases. A typical educational institution. "There is no indication of a clockwork..." What in the name of the Kroniissiah?

"Since you descended those stairs, you have been walking in a glyph. This whole environment is one huge glyph." She spread her arms out wide. Taking in the architecture of this room. "Don't believe me? Examine the floor layout for yourself."

"No no no... I trust you. We have a similar appliance in my institution." I remember the intricate mechanised shelves that traversed the Infinitum Librarius. Moving on complex glyphic circuits across the complex. Delivering required documentation and artefacts. "However, not for security. Why exactly the cold? I could walk without heating all the way here."

"Oh. The cold is not intended to kill invaders. Simply to weaken them "The lady responds with an amused grin. "Plus it doubles as coolant during the summers." She strolls past by me. My eyes wander at the insignia on the lady's shoulder. The serpent Boros is present, coiling against something... not clockwork. Difficult to describe its complexity.

"The Court informed me prior. I anticipated your arrival, so let's get this over with." The woman bowed while smiling. "Vitalia Basiliea, Kronomancer and Chief officer of the Ordo Catalognaut of the Serpent's Embrace. How may I assist you, Takeshi?"

"The... Twelve. They want me..." I hold my breath. What I am about to say may not be the most logical of words for her sort. "The Twelve want me to enter the Catalog."

"THEY WHAT?!"

---

Day Negative Four

"Is everything ready? " I asked as the techno-scribe reviewed his notes. Despite having emptied my bowels minutes prior to wearing this suit, I could still feel my colon and bladder shivering. Anxiety is merely a fraction of the word to describe what I am experiencing. Vertigo? Maybe. As the scribe put down his notes, he assured me that all was prepared and ready. The clock engineers adjust the last dials and knobs on their workstation, opening the sealed metal door in front of me. Beyond that, an extremely lit chamber with silver metal lining the walls and ceiling.

Slowly, I make my way into the chamber. A combination of fear of what is to come and the weight of the suit has left me at a crawl. With a thud, the door behind me came to a close. Tightening its knobs to close. Inch by inch, I forced both of my feet forward. I kept doing this until I received the signal to stop. Why am I so afraid? I've fought Ourobros and skinned them alive. I have had my psyche almost broken by a schizo shaman. I was drugged multiple times in Matiyotl and enjoyed it. This situation should not be as scary.

Swallowing saliva, I look around to familiarise myself with this place. Surely that would steel my nerves. The chamber is devoid of anything. Only the stone floor, the ceiling adorned with complex clockwork and machinery, and me standing in-between. In front of me, perhaps about 10 metres away, is the vtubium-enforced glass barrier separating the men operating this machine from me. 

Practically, this machine is meant to be the smaller version of the very same clockwork and vtubium-infused machinery used to transport the ship across the island. Much, much, much smaller. Perfect for fitting inside a chamber. Perfect for a man like me. Theoretically, I am not confident whether it will work or reduce my entire being into dust.

The procedure was simple enough; using the same set of input as the previous test on the ship, assuming no variables or environmental changes are made, this machine will transport me to the same location as where the ship landed in the New World. From then on, I will have to make my way towards civilisation and begin my task of recovering the stranded sailors.

Speaking of them, they were not wearing this suit according to the test report. The Clocksmiths explained to me that the machine would send me into a moment in-between the physical realm. It is unknown whether naked exposure to this realm is safe for a mortal such as myself. The sailors were able to survive the process by accommodating a reinforced room on-board the ship. Since the crew returned a signal, it was obvious the procedure worked. As I will not be travelling inside a ship, this suit will be my saving grace against the unknown hazards ahead.

Inspecting the complex clockwork on my arm, I ignite the piece of Kronii chuubanite in its slot. Energy flows within the suit; the defensive sheen has been deployed. With that, I give the engineers a thumbs-up. Giving them the signal to initiate the device. 

A couple of Clocksmiths begin loading flasks into a machine. I could tell they were different samples of Vtubium. An orange-pink-ish Kiaranite solution, a sickly green Faunyl liquid, and a solid block of crystalised Kroniium. I do not know what these different forms of Vtubium contribute to the device. This is knowledge only the Clocksmiths carry.

A loud thunder and whir erupted above me. The gears of this clockwork monstrosity have started moving. Even in this suit, I could sense a massive shift in the air. My arms seem to be moving slower. I closed my eyes and endured the dissociative echoes throughout my physique. The air is thick and heavy. Like soup, porridge, molasses. I could feel my body feeling softer. No wait, it's stiffer. No, it became soft again. Did my legs turn into rock? Or pudding? I touched my chest to feel the suit was still unchanged. But it feels... feels... what?

In an instant, my senses came back to me like a chronocerous charging at me at full speed. My back, my arms, my legs. They no longer felt dissociative. I can feel my body again. I limped forward. The floor felt weird. The air felt weird. But they're not as uncomfortable as before. I open my eyes. I was met with a blinding haze of light blue and soft, dim light from all around.

From here onwards, wherever I go, I will find myself in a different location on the planet. Or my own city. Or worse, a different realm entirely...
This is the realm between the physical.
This is where thoughts, dreams and, beliefs become Vtubium powers.
This is the supposed shortcut between points.
This is the line in which Copium and Hopium flows through.
This, is the Catalog.

---

Day Ten

"If words could describe the predicament I am going through, they would be 'searing', 'scorching', and 'tiring'. I could feel them on my temples, falling drip by drip, the salt puddle on my robe growing larger with each drop. I wipe my forehead with a cloth, it drenches of sweat almost immediately.

The air is hot with a slight texture of sand and dirt. The landscape around me is an arid grassland with patches of dried mud and rock in-between. The path below is nothing but bare dirt and sand. In the horizon, I could see the vegetation thinning, and the rocks sinking into a vista of sand and the occasional baobab trees. This is the borderlands between Ayakkayoli and the Emirates. With each step my steed takes, the sands of the Emirates invite me in.

As a man whose homeland is strafed endlessly by the punishing winters, I wished nonstop for the warmth of the sun. But here, I immediately regret such a wish. The shining ball in the sky, once something I had always prayed for its return back in Infinitum, has now become something I truly hate. Not even in the tropical and steamy jungles of Matiyotl and Risnesia had the once life bearing sun cursed down upon me.

As I kept wiping the perspiration dripping off my face, the beast of burden beneath me let out a cry of discomfort. yes, my kamila friend, I too feel your predicament. Gently I lay my hand behind her ears and gently pat her. With each soft brush, the kamila's troubled cries eventually softened up. Slowly she let out a satisfied bleat. All you wanted was companionship weren't you?

My ears picked up a groaned sigh. That must be from the other beast of burden I am travelling with.

I turn around, there the lady lied in a hopeless slump on her back against the kamila's hump. Exposing her figure to the scorching sun above our heads. I look at the pile of trinkets on her lap. A map, a compass, a sextant, a VT-meter, and a half-eaten gyro. The map does looked a bit outdated. It appears to be one from before the attempted union of the Ayakkolian and Syndeonian Empire. A union that was broken through foreign means.

Scribbles and notes can be seen all over the dated cartographic piece. Misaki's attempt at retracing my steps from the Emirate, through Ayakkayoli, and finally ending in Syndeonia where I met her. Our adventure through the Syndeonian-Ayakkolian border happened almost immediately after we left Kastoria. There were no dawdling for the both of us. I needed to get to the bottom of this mystery quick. As for Misaki, I have no idea why she showed interest in me. My mere existence here is already ambiguous. The bountiful eyewitness accounts of me travelling with a party prior to my memory loss, much more anomalous than the scent of the Catalog.

Hold on. How would I know what the Catalog smelled like?

I shook my head and turned forward, my eyes on the road and the sands up ahead. I recall some of the more interesting findings we have made in the last 10 hours. A village in the bordering Thema. There we both found an abandoned carriage. Still in pristine condition, resting in a field of grass, collecting sand and silt all over its construction. Such a sight was not expected in the rural countryside. Upon further investigation we found out that it carried with it three idiosyncratic qualities; the first was its history, the second being its design, and lastly were the contents discovered within.

The first was the obvious clue one could tell from afar. It was abandoned there recently. Very recently. We asked the locals of the nearby village regarding the vehicle's placement. Misaki herself was helpful as she is fluent in the Ayakkolian tongue. According to the villagers, the carriage was abandoned there exactly during the day I had woken up in Kastoria. Misaki did mentioned the day before that I was brought over by a carriage. Lo and behold, we have found the suspect's vehicle. It seemed that the locals were hesitant on investigating the carriage nor lay a hand on it, believing they were at risk of breaking a law for meddling with the affairs of the constabulary. Aside from learning the locals outright fear their despotic law enforcers, it seemed that the party I travelled with immediately abandoned the vehicle after they dropped me off.

Were they in a hurry? It was such a brash move to leave behind this piece of evidence out in the open. Were they being hunted down by the constables? No. The vehicle still lay pristine, to which the villagers confirmed there were no law enforcers around at the time.

Onto the next piece of evidence, the vehicle's build and looks. This vehicle, was no ordinary one. It was painted and created to adhere to a set of protocols. A set of protocols that I am familiar with. From its silver wheels to the reflector lights on its back end, the thin film of chuubanite heater on its inside meant to combat the Great Winter, and finally the most damning piece of equipment that shook me, the carriage's still-functioning sophisticated clockwork mechanism. This vehicle was constructed in Infinitum. No, this was no ordinary vehicle. This is a church-issued clock-powered carriage that can only be used by the 365 priestesses to travel between chapters with grandeur, tradition, and honour!

How could such a significant church-owned vehicle be found in an unsavoury backwater field, within the borders of a foreign despotate, hundreds of kilometres from Infinitum?! No... I must not give in to my emotions. A quiet mind is required to solve this enigma. Such a heretical act. Such transgression must have a meaning.

My thoughts were reconciled. The third piece of evidence. We discovered travel equipment and a chest full of metal flasks inside the carriage. I tallied them all. Twenty. Each flask was engraved with a single warm and glowing glyph and was made of pewter, steel, and likely chuubanite alloy. These flasks are probably used to carry dangerous substances if they require a glyph to seal completely. Except for one, they were all empty of contents. I grabbed it without hesitation and attentively examined it. Its contents could be heard sloshing slowly with each shake. Viscous. But before I could investigate it any more, Misaki snatches the object from my grasp and removes the sealing cap.

She inhaled deeply and dipped her index finger inside. A sticky strand of thick silvery-violet fluid followed as she drew it back. Misaki swiftly slipped a fingerful of said fluid into her mouth before I could say anything. As she tasted the fluid, her eyes rolled side to side. The sight of viscid liquid dripping from her lips triggered my Takeshi blood. Misaki closed the flask and stored it in her satchel without saying anything. She immediately signaled for me to keep moving. I swear her face was serious at the time. We retrieved any useful items from the carriage and remounted our trusty steed. Oddly, she never mentioned the incident again and avoided answering my questions.

The clues are there. All I am missing is the keystone. Something that will form links between these events I have been through. How am I here? Why are my memories gone? Why am I finding Infinitum equipment all this way away from home?

Enough. Exerting too much force in this mystery will only muddle the water. My thoughts have returned to reality as I attentively pat the kamila on the head. Brushing my hand down to her neck. We've been through a lot in the past few days, haven't we? Why am I asking this to an animal?

I gazed at the horizon. The sandy unknown grew closer. Shrubs and neck-deep grass have been left behind me. We are now entering the Emirates. If what I had been told by Misaki was right, we should reach the site of my arrival within two days of constant travel. I've prodded her multiple times for the name of our destination, but she said it would 'ruin the surprise'. What surprise? An ambush? Treasure?

"I'm not keeping any surprises from you..." a tired voice said from behind me.

"Misaki? Were you awake? Wait... you could read my mind? "

"I am. And no, you were murmuring to yourself. "She stared at the head of our steed. "Though it sounded more as if you were talking to kamila."

Misaki got up and sat normally on the saddle. She was tidying up the trinkets on her lap.

"Can I ask you a question?" I stared at her in the eyes.

"Is it about my past?"

"No, no." She never wanted to answer that for some reason. Despite being a seasoned adventurer, she sure kept plenty to herself. In my experience, and it was a personal one, mercenaries and adventurers loved to brag about their accomplishments and tell tales of their past endeavors. A tradition of guildsmen, soldiers, and travelers

"Let me guess. It's about the goop thing? "

"Y-yeah. That. You've been keeping me in the dark about it." I kindly demanded. Misaki has been silent about her past since. Everything I knew about her came from personal deductions based on her personal belongings.The guild badge is Holo-Imperial and she speaks Holodhennet. Ailivian? She has a Catalog transmitter. She is a Catalognaut. Yet I've never seen her display her powers even once.

"I said it before. You'll get your answer once we've reached the Emirates."

"By technicality, we have We crossed the border just a few minutes ago." I blot the sweat from my brows once more. How is Misaki able to keep cool in such horrid weather? "Perhaps it's time you fulfil your side of the deal."

"Really, Longclock? We've barely seen a town..."she teased with a smile. "Alright, alright, alright. It's been a whole day, so... you get a good boy point for being patient. "

"A what?" I could've sworn I felt my blood picking something up in that tone.

"How much do you want to know? The whole story or the flash cards edition? "

"As much as I can understand, that's for sure."

"It's chuubanite." I could see a grin beginning to appear on her face. "Liquid chuubanite."

"I assume you figured that out by drinking the concoction? I'm not a chemist or a thaumatologist, but I've been into alchemy labs and apothecaries. Some are far bloodier than the last. I don't think drinking that stuff is the wisest of moves."

"I know. Which is why you leave it to the professionals." She points to herself. "The composition, from what I could tell, is made up of four separate chuubanite. Three tasted like metal. That last one was sweet." Hold on. Tasted? 
"The goddesses they're aligned to, I think they were... Ouro Kronii." Praise the Warden. G-wak. 
"...Roboco?" The Matriarch of Golems.
"Himemori Luna." The Princess of the Knights of Confectioneries.
"... and the last one was Jitobi Monoe." The Elohima of Metal.

"Wait what? Monoe?!" my eyes widened. I could feel it. A memory resurfacing. A patch of fog slowly being lifted inside my psyche. "Was she not Fallen?" I asked instinctively.

"Yeah.... So?"

"So how would there still be chuubanite bearing her strength?"

"That's a bit difficult to say. I think it's like his; even if a god has fallen, not every piece of chuubanite stops working." Misaki begins scribbling on her map. "You are of the Holo faith aren't you? Recall how the followers of the Dragon still persisted post her fall." She is right. Despite the Dragon goddess' fall, the realm of her people did not.
"As long as they persist, not every single ounce of chuubanite will go-" Misaki made a gesture with her hands. An explosion.

"Like the Fandeads..." My heart felt heavy. It may have been a minority, but there were Fandead refugees in Infinitum. Merchants, ambassadors, and members of the Imperial Body. That was decades ago. I was still a child, ignorant of the outside world. As a young scribe, I was given a commission to archive the recollections of Fandead refugees within Infinitum. When the news broke that their homeland had been decimated into fallout overnight, their emotions were a festering concoction of fear, confusion, anger, and despair. The old diplomat was the most disheartened. To live far across the sea and discover that you have lost your home and the people you have known in an instant is unfathomable. Some let history be history. The naturalised second generation of Fandeadronies is proof of that. Despite the death of their goddess, they kept some aspects of their faith, mixing them with their new one of the Warden. Such as the brooches I've seen. The blessed serpent Boros around a blue butterfly. Butterflies crafted out of-

"-Rushia chuubanite. Indeed." Misaki finished my sentence.

"How did you-"

"You need to stop thinking while mouth breathing."

"I am not a mouth breather!"

"Whatever. Point is, dead god ain't gonna mean that every chuubanite goes bye-bye. So is Monoe's. You just need to look really hard. Maybe out there, the chuubanite of the Oyabun still exists in some rich plutocrat's wardrobe." I felt a tap on my shoulder. Misaki calling for my attention. "But enough about magic god rocks. Longclock, I've been looking at the map and found something interesting."

I turned around. Misaki was pointing at something she had written down; We are being watched

I could feel the hairs on my skin rising. How does she know that? How long have we been watched on?

"Say, Longclock. I think it's 5 O'clock." She raised her hand, showing off five fingers to me.

"No, it's not. It's half past-" Misaki poked me in the chest before I could finish my sentence.

"Five. O'. Clock." She insisted. She taps onto the map's compass rose.

I got it. I slowly peered back to get a glimpse of the perpetrator. Nothing. A sandy hillside with hoodoos and the occasional withered tree bark. In the distance, a dust devil blew. In fact, I could feel the winds around me getting faster. Coarse sun-seared sand particles rapidly hit against my body. Getting faster and thicker by the second. I could feel my saddle lunge back and forth, Misaki grabbing the saddle as we dived down. I turned back to see that our kamila had stopped moving and was now lying on the ground. A sandstorm is brewing, it seems. 

I turn back to try and find our observers. They must be using this storm to hide! To the left, I peer beyond the buffeting sand grains. None. So was to my right. Where are they? 

"Takeus!" Misaki cried. "It's a downburst!"

Downburst? I looked up. There I saw it. Almost phantomlike. Speeding in our direction. Like a falcon diving onto its prey. A schizo? A revenant? A harpy? No. None of those could whip up a storm. It was then I heard it. A loud metallic screech. A wail like that of an exploding chuubanite. By the time I saw the glimmer in the sky, trailing dust it was too late. I could see them now clearly. A figure diving towards us... wearing an armored suit... with a gargantuan pair of... wings? No. NO! By the Kronissiah that cannot be!

The sound of whooshing wind intensifies as the figure gets closer. I knew what was coming. I grabbed Misaki and jumped off the kamila. We both crouched behind our steed as cover. Putting our heads first onto the ground, we braced for the impact. In mere seconds, we felt it. A loud rumble of wind and stone, a great thud, and a huge whiplash of sand bellowed upon us. Luckily, the kamila's huge body was able to shield us from the burning wave of sand. The kamila was luckily unscathed and merely shrugged the sand off its back. Forgive me, poor creature. I will repay you once we make it out of here alive. I gently patted the steed's neck as she stared back at me disinterested.

The storm subsides. Slowly, I peak above the kamila. With the sand no longer obfuscating my perception, I could finally make out the figure's full profile. Light chainmail armor. White robes. A lanky figure. A large, intricate device is on her back; its surface is still glowing, hot air bellowing from behind, and the feathery blades running down her arms, ending with a talon in her hands are slowly folding back into place. Glowing conduits run across her armor and clockwork equipment, chuubanite circuitry. All across her armor and equipment were glyphs. Multiple glyphs. Some I recognized of the Warden's. Some are of my Holo brothers in faith. Some I do not recognise. Her face is covered by a mask made up of patches of pure white porcelain and pewter, her eyes gazing back at me through the lenses of the eyeholes. I can see it. Death, the desire to kill within her cold, constricted pupils. 

No. No no no no why is she here?! How is she still alive?! They said they found her body in Schizograd! Yet here she is. Standing. Living. Breathing. 

"Longclock..." I hear Misaki peeking up beside me. "Who is this?"

"They..." I swallowed spit. I could taste the salty sweat flowing in. "They called her the Madwoman of New London..."

The figure slowly walks towards us. Sand and rocks blew away from her as if her commandeering presence ordered them to go away.

"...they also called her the '366th Schizo Priestess'."

Slowly, she's getting close. I try to fight my cowardly knees. Attempting to hold back against her terrifying intimidation. Wait a minute. I've fought alongside the Varangians. Why... am I afraid? I look at her figure closely. Something must be emitting this sense of dread. There! On her arm-brace! It's a sickly bluish-green glow of a glyph, carved as a series of circular patterns. I close my eyes and try to calm myself down. Like a receding tide, I no longer felt dread within me. Yes! I can finally do it! Grabbing onto the kamila, I stood up and opened my eyes. Greeted with the sight of Madwoman's masked mug.

"Enough with the nicknames already!" Misaki asks as she gets up without any inhibition. "...and what did you mean by 'they'?"

"She's the Chief Clocksmith and Artificer for the Ordo Catalognaut..." I turn my gaze back to the armored ex-aristocrat. "...of the Blessed State of The One Infinitopia. Madame Makoto Montre."

The distance between us and the Madame was 10 meters apart. The only object separating us in this wide open landscape is my steed, calmly staring back at me without a care. I walked around the tranquil beast, not wanting to drag any unnecessary casualties into this conflict. By the time I walked around the creature, our distance had been cut down to 7 meters. Our eyes locked on each other. I tried my best not to gaze upon any cognitively hazardous glyphs on her armour. 

"Nice to see you again." A stern and somewhat clear voice came from behind her blinding mask. 

"I... Don't ever recall meeting you before... I was there at Schizograd but never saw you-"

"Not you, Meatronie." She turned her gaze towards Misaki. "You're a bit out of place here, Sato."

I turned to look at Misaki. Confusion takes root within my mind. See her again? Has Misaki met with the Arch-Heretic before?

"Look I think you might be confusing me for that clock-boy over there. I believe this is the first time we've met right?" Misaki explained herself as she walked over to my side.

"Who do you think contacted you." the Madwoman smiled coldly. She tilted her head to her right and tapped a finger onto the side of her temple. A headpiece. A communicator.

"I see... Looks like this is, what, your overly complicated trap? I've seen this scenario a couple of times. Longclock's the bait, and I'm the VIP. That's the whole shtick, ain't it?" Misaki pointed at the Catalognaut. I could see the confidence in her eyes. She is certain her judgement was right.

"Close. Yet still off the mark." the Madame extends her arms wide open. As if she's praising the both of us. "You're both the tools I needed. The Takeshi is the cipher. And you, my glowing damsel, are the key. Maybe we've gone off on the wrong foot here. Sure my entry was a bit overdramatic, but you can't keep a lady from having her fun. I'm not looking to shed any blood here. All I wanted-nay, needed-was your... services."

So that's her plan? To use us? For what? I've read enough history books to know this is a shoehorned last-minute diplomatic attempt. She will give us an offer, a pragmatic one. Help her and she'll let us go. Get real, Madwoman! I've read the news! We'll be nothing short of disposable pawns!

"Yeah thanks for the offer. Would very much appreciated if everything didn't scream 'suspicious as fuck'! Confusing even." A disgruntled Misaki snapped. "First a Kronie arrived without any memories. Then I gathered accounts of him travelling with his kind, which just so happened to coincide with an Infinitum carriage we found abandoned yesterday. Then you just waltzed in and claimed that you led us here when in fact, I clearly had my own private circle of contacts. I know how communicators work! Lady, you can keep up your 'grinning girlboss' act, but I've come close to an entire drama school worth of schizos in my career. They're almost like free acting lessons. Your bluff has more holes than a menger sponge. Your alibi holds less water than this entire godsforsaken desert! You're just relying on intimidation and our lack of information to keep us on our toes dont'cha?"

I stared at Misaki for a solid second. That was a good rebut. I did not even thought about those inconsistencies. She is sharper than I thought.

"My, my, my..." the Madame clicked her tongue. Annoyed and frustrated. "Here I am expecting to get blunt mallets. It seems I've found the sharpest edge instead. So let's see if your words match up the edges of my blades." I watched as the woman walked towards Misaki. Are her eyes glowing light blue? Wait. Those aren't her eyes. It's the lenses!

"MISAKI!" I cried immediately. But I wasn't fast enough. In an instant Misaki flew right in front of me. A meter high into the air, and flung forward by several. I watch as Misaki skidded across the sand, landing head first into ground. A painful pressure develops within my ears as the air around me feels heavier. Quickly I grabbed the sides of my head and opened my mouth to lessen the pain.

I turned to the Madame, her mask was now glowing a sickly blue. Repulsion. Whatever chuubanite she had activated was enough to send Misaki flying across the dunes. With the pain in my ears and the heavy pressure on my skin, I could tell it involved the baric changes in the air around Misaki.

"Something I picked up from the locals. The power of wind itself. Useful in many ways. A presentation if you wish..." the Madame stepped back and gave a bow. My eyes gaze upon the mechanism on her back. The glyphs adorning its shell has begun to glow and the device whirs letting out screams akin to a clockwork banshee. Like a siphon, the device sucks in the dusty air around us, rapidly heating it and blowing it out behind her. The device starts glowing brighter, I could feel the air around me getting warmer. Much more than the natural temperature of the desert.

Is she strapping a firework on her back? Wait a minute. That's it! I may not be a clock artificer, but I have some idea what is happening. She's going to take off just as a firework would! I notice immediately that the feathery blades on her forearms were unfurling. I knew exactly what she's up to! I turn around to see the dust cloud where Misaki fell. This madwoman will be the death of her!

I ran towards the kamila and jumped on her saddle. Without hesitation and desperation, I grab the halter and signal the creature to head out. The kamila grunted, quickly got up on her legs, and we started running forward towards the site of Misaki's landing. I whip the halter! Faster! The gallops intensifies and the dust cloud behind us darkens.

The creature is now at full speed. We are charging directly towards Misaki. I look back. The Madame is still bowing in our direction, the dust cloud behind her has now formed into a whirling dust devil. Her wings have fully unfurl. The visage of the same falcon as before.

I turned forward. There! We're almost in reach! I could see her full figure lying in the sands! Just a little more to cut the distance between us! I could almost grab her hand!

That was when I hear the explosion, followed by the whirring screams and the shifts of sands. I gaze to my left, and she was already there.

Like a speeding cannonball, the Madame went lunging towards Misaki. Her talons outstretched and the glyphs on her armour glowing iridescently.

No... No NO NO!! "MISAKI!!" I cried. I cried as hard as I could. But deep down I know she wouldn't react fast enough.

Like a firework, the Madame flew at high speed. Like a firework, she impacted Misaki into a cloud of sand and fiery sparks.

I tugged on the halter and shield my eyes from the dust cloud. The kamila stopped in her tracks. Dread formed within me. How could this be happening? I never expected this turn of events on my journey! I could feel the muscles in my chest twisting my heart. I punched the saddle I sat on out of rage. Only to retaliate in pain for hitting a hard piece of wood. Reeling my hand in pain, I gazed into the receding dust cloud. My mind races. The last thing I needed to see was Misaki's mangled cadaver strung from the Madame's talons.

But that was not the vision I saw. What I saw was something much more spectacular and baffling.

Misaki was standing on the ground. Unscathed. Unscratched. Not a single bloodstain on her robes. Nor a bruise on her body from the explosion.
She was defending herself. Her left arm blocking the blows of the Madame's pair of bladed talons. Sparks of crimson, pink, and teal coming off her arm at where the blades met her flesh. The Madame floats like a ghastly vulture above her, the 'firework' on her back still glowing hot and emitting a burning jet of air.

My mind was at a frenzy trying to comprehend the situation at hand. The Madame flew at her at the speed of a cannonball. Yet she was able to block her blows with a single forearm. Such endurance! Is this her chuubanite abilty? Just what is this Misaki lady?!

My answer was given almost immediately. With a crack and a fizzle, I watch as the talons break into Misaki's left arm. The Madame gave a twist in opposing directions. Twisting her arm and—SNAP—tore it off midway.

I was in shock. Not because of the gore, but from the lack thereof. Not in the sense of the word. I watch as the arm slowly breaks apart into stringy hot pink strands, like fibers in a twisting branch. There was no blood. None of the sight and smell of crimson iron I knew of. The ichor that seeps from the twisted fibrous flesh were iridescent and viscous, shifting between a soft pink and a gentle light teal. The volume were conservative, no more than one or two drips with every second.

The Madame leaped back and extinguished her 'firework', tearing the arm off her within her talons. However her efforts were not successful. She stared at the dismembered limb in her grasp. While it was tore off Misaki, it's not completely removed. Long strands of fibrous flesh bridge the gap between her blades back to its owner. Pink-teal ichor dripping slowly across the bridge onto the sands below. Misaki stood without a look of pain on her face. Only that of a smile.

I glanced at Misaki's arm, realizing it had begun to glow a shimmering pink. A glow that intensifies over time. Instinctively, I shield my eyes. Which was the wisest of decision. Before I knew, there was a bright flash of pink and I hear the loud clang of metal and crackling of lightning. I lowered my arm, the Madame was lying on the sands. Her armour glowing bright, with sparks coming off the sands around her.

Misaki walks towards the madwoman and retrieved her dismembered arm. I got off the kamila and began running towards her. Grabbing her scarf in my hand to cover her wounds. I watch in fascination as she slowly reels back the long fibrous flesh back into her wound, locking her arm back in place by the end. She took the cloth from me and began tying the wound up. It seems she's still susceptible to injuries despite her endurance. Misaki stared at her hand and wriggled her fingers. They were still functional it seems. That's when she paused. Something looked different.

She was missing her ring finger!

I turned to wards the Madame. She was gone.

"That fuckin' harlot! She took my finger off!" Misaki fumed and kicked a pile of sand. Before she could say another word, she turned to me. "Oh, Longclock! Sorry you had to see that! That was my power you see! She got me at first but luckily I activated it just in time for-"

"Misaki" I said to her. There was a wild theory that I've been making up in my head ever since the day I met her. There was this bizarre feeling that something does not look what it seems. "You... don't need to lie anymore."

"Whaddya mean? I never lied to you!" she explained herself assertively.

"You've read my mind. You drank pure chuubanite. You were immune to a glyph emitting cognitive dread. You took a blow from a speeding projectile of a woman like it was nothing. And you let her dismember your arm like it was but clay!" I cried out in frustration. This woman was crafty and sharp. But she could not hide her abilities easily.

"Misaki..." I looked at her in the eyes. Asserting my intent, demanding her answer. "You're a Here aren't you?"

There was a pause between us. The only sounds were that of the wind, the grunt of our steed, and the shifting of sands. She looked back at me, not a single twitch on her facial expression.

"Was." the silence broke. "I was made by one."

---

Day Negative Three

"Blue. A soft cream blue. Hazy. Wispy. Heavy. It's all around me. There is no sun. Yet it's dim all around. I glance to the right and to the left. It is as if the light came from the spaces in-between the air itself. I look down. There was no ground. There were not any platforms and anything to stand on either. Just the bluish haze. Spanning further down in an endless void.

The void is all around me. And it goes on. And on. And on. The Catalog. The magical realm where magical energy flows, where the air is pure copium and hopium, and the realm where beliefs are made real.

In-between the void, are these peculiar shifts in the air. Stars? Ripples? Whatever they may be, there are thousands of them. In the far distance of the void, I see more of them. Like the twinkling sparkles in the night sky. Against the cream blue back void. How many are there in total? Possibly in the millions.

I raise my arm in front of me, I stare down, or up depending on which direction I am floating, at the apparatus. Beside the piece of complex clockwork, is a watch of some kind, consisted of a shaped vial of liquid chuubanite, multiple beads could be seen floating inside. The VT-meter, in the words of the Clocksmiths, as long as each bead is not sunken to the bottom of the liquid, I am in a safe position. The beads are all floating around aimlessly. No discrete changes observed.

I shift my gaze slightly to inspect the glowing chuubanite. It's still hot.
I glance at the compass on my right arm. It is spinning all over. That's not useful at all in this place.
Enough telemetry! Preparations are ready. I aim at a spot in front of me, and begin swimming.
Like an ocean without water, I stroke my arms back and forth. Propelling me forward as I bathe in the bluish glow.

I took a panorama view around me. Though but a void with 'stars' all around, I could see peculiar objects floating around. Evidence of previous incursions into this realm. Failed ones judging by their conditions. To the right of me, possibly 100 meters, I could see the outline of a building. I look up and see a cog sailing sideways in the hopium sea. If I am lucky, I could find a withered mummy floating in the void. I stared longingly at the poor adventurer below me. I guess he entered this realm without any proper equipment. Death by exposure to extreme amounts of concentrated copium it seems. His body now preserved and floating aimlessly in this realm.

TAA-KEE-SHI! TAKE--SHII!. A voice cried out my name in the distance. From behind me it seems. I turned around and see no one. That was certainly not a hallucination. Hey! Scribe! Hold on!. The voice cried once more. Only then I realised that the voice is emanating from inside my head. Is this what they call telepathy?

Caught you! Were you not told to wait for me? The voice is the loudest it could be. Echoing around in my skull. I knew exactly who this is.

"Vitalia?" I cried out her name. My breath clouds up on the mirror in front of my face.
Who else? No need to open your mouth, scribe. Saves the trouble of you not being able to clean that bowl on your head. I can listen to your thoughts while you are in this place.
Sorry. I got tired of waiting and there was nothing to do so I just... wandered off...
For a moment, I could hear a sigh. A mental sigh.

Wh-where are you? I asked her in my mind. I frantically turn around, trying to get a glimpse of her.
Difficult to visualise it. I am currently around you. I can see you and fly around you. I am looking at you directly in the face now. Almost like a bird.
More of a wraith now that you mentioned it... I resumed swimming forward.
Where do you think you are heading towards, scribe? Vitalia asked sternly.
I am supposed to be heading East
How certain were you that you are in right direction?
I trust my blood
Typical Takeshi... You are heading neither west, north, nor anywhere. The Catalog is a realm of chaotic patterns. One wrong turn and may find yourself in places you do not know!

I stopped swimming. I knew I made the wrong decision back then.
How are things over there? In the physical world? My mind wanders off, staring at a derelict fortress floating in the far distance. How did that wind up in here?
Currently leaning back against a chair. A mug of butterbeer in hand. Communicator circlet around my head.
Convenient. You are able to stay home for this.
That is what our clade is made for, scribe. To travel the Catalog with our minds.
Now where do we go from here?
Before you do anything beyond my control, at least have the patience to listen to what I am going to ask; How familiar are you with the Catalog?
I... uhhh... we techno-scribes had a compulsory lecture about it once.
I see. What did you learn?
I kind of lost interest a quarter way in and fell asleep after the scholar muttered the word 'concept' for the hundredth time.
I despise thee. Hold on for a moment.

There was a short silence. I stare at the bizarre wavy stars moving around me while I await Vitalia's response.
First rule of the Catalog. Everything here is moving. It is an ocean. But of magical energy. It is how we are able to project our minds and senses across continents.
I understand why your kind are valuable. You could be spying on an enemy spy from kilometers away.
I too wish it was that simple. Traversing this realm is difficult even for us. Like an actual ocean, there are currents, whirlpools, tides, and waves. Caught in a stream of hopium and you will be dragged to places unknown.
Sounds like a risky career.
Do you see those rippling stars?
I do. Plenty of them around me.
We call them 'threads', long strands of pure magic quanta that connects to the material world. They are the bridges that deliver magical energy to our chuubanite.
I watch as several threads float in the distance. Gently swaying down like a school of jellyfishes.
I advise you to not touch them. They are literal bridges to whichever region they are supplying. If you tear into the threads you will be transported back into the material world. Wherever it may be. Travelers like us use them to project our minds across distances. With a myriad number of threads floating around we often not discover our targets in our first sweep. Catalogposting is difficult, like looking for a needle in a haystack. You have no idea how often I ended up eavesdropping on schizos instead of my actual targets. Even us Catalognauts are not spared as we could not find each other amongst the endless clutter. Which is why our circlets are custom made to match our minds.
Markers on a map.
Precisely. Finding our comrades in this broken sea is useless without it.
How far can you perceive and transmit your thoughts?
Cannot determine, we only know that it is extremely dependent on the intensity of our conceptual noosphere.
In short?
The distance my mind can travel the Catalog is limited by our faith. I could not project into the parts of the Catalog that contains no figment of the Kronissiah.
But what of believers of the Kronissiah in lands of heretics and unbelievers?
It is as if you were sailing a stormy sea. A winter hurricane. Swarms of whirlpools and lightning will curse upon your vessel. You may attempt but at the risk of stumbling upon the maddening unknowns. There are things in here a mortal should not gaze their eyes upon. Ones that drove men to become Schizos. You, however, are traversing in your physical body. You are able to perceive and avoid dangers we could not.
So eventually I have to go on my own?
Unfortunately. Which is why I'm giving you this crash course.

Before I knew it. A question stirred up in my mind.
Wouldn't that mean with enough pockets of worshippers all over the world, you could... make an island chain of tranquility? Employ clairvoyant anywhere?
In theory... that was proposed once. But I doubt there's any clergy crazy enough to do such a thing.

Before my eyes, I see a rippling collection of sparks and mirages slowly heading towards me.
Get ready to swim away.
I kicked to the right and strafe sideways. I watch as the ripple travels in front of me. So gentle and awesome it looks.
Hold out your hand. But not too close. Stop when you feel warmth.
I nod at her suggestion and do so. Before my eyes, the threads of the ripple split open. That was when I hear the words. Actual words coming into my ears.

"Damn the other gods! I love my Kawaiiope so much!"
"Agreed brother! I wuv her so much! May curses fell upon the Imperial snobs!"

Immediately, I retract my hand. I appeared to have eavesdropped onto something personal.
That is how you peak onto the other side without falling through it. Seems that one leads to a pub in Morji. Takeus, upwards. Try gazing into that one.
I saw the thread Vitalia speaks of and swims towards it.
Again, I handed out my hand and

"Gentlemen, behold! My newest Icon of our beloved Kiara!"
"Horrendous! Hideous! How dare you besmirch our chimkin like that! Why does she wear three hats?! Three!"
"Horrendous? I spent an entire week drawing it! It's a sign of nobility!"
"It is revisionism! Your heretical hands made Kiwawa cry!"
"Fucking artfags!! it's just a hat! Shut up!"
"Implying."
"Imply this, fag- OW!'
"The artists are fighting!"

I retracted my arm.
Uhhh... possibly somewhere in the Kaiserreich. Let's stay away from that one.

To my right is another thread. Again.

"Your goddess is a harlot!"
"She is no such thing..."
"She fraternised with a male!"
"Her own kin..."
"Stop deflecting, cuck!"

I pulled back immediately. That one was a lost cause.
Why are all of them... negative?
Not most of them. The flow of magical energy is affected by faith, negative emotions are often the best attractive force. Schizos being proof of this. Speaking of the devil. Takeus, back off.
I heed Vitalia's words and strafe backwards.
Immediately, a rippling star shot itself upwards. Glowing iridescent and sparkling.
What was that?! I almost muttered with my mouth.

A thread just received energy. Physicists and thaumatologists have been studying this effect. Magical energy does not enter the threads in constant streams. They enter in packets of magical quanta. With each packet, the thread becomes excited and goes to the higher levels of the Catalog. The threads at the bottom levels are in a stable ground state. You need to be careful of that when you travel. Sometimes a thread can just get bumped into a high energy level, with you in its path.
I gaze around and focus on the stars. She is right. I could see some streaks flying upwards. In-between them, most of the threads were slowly drifting downwards. Among the threads floating down into the abyss, a small percentile of them were glowing bright and energetic.
Those threads are receiving packets of energy. Yet they still sink to the abyss...
They are ones that have reached its natural lifespan. Even in this realm, nothing lasts forever.
What happens to them when they reach the bottom?
They disintegrate. The connection with the physical side is severed, and hopefully the chuubanite they delivered to is fully charged. Which is why some chuubanite recharge slower than most; the threads delivering their energy died too quickly.
How much energy can they deliver before they reach their end?
Hmmm... Plenty of scholars and researchers like us have put our theories to the test. The Serpent's Embrace, Vötzmich Academy, Republican Institute of the Arcane, LABEE, and the KTF. The common answer is three hundred and ten. That's the limit of packets before the threads stop delivering energy to the physical world and dies off.

I nodded. Though in truth, I know barely of the organisations she mentioned. I have only known of our Infinitum's own Serpent's Embrace. The Varangians spoke of the KTF being their supplier of magic. The others are new to me.
As I watch off into the distance, a peculiar shape got my attention.
It is amorphous. Solid? Its colour... Purplish. No. Bluish? Greenish? I could not perceive their colours properly.
Yet I feel... afraid... a peculiar and eclectic sensation of emotions and senses flows throughout my body the longer I stare at the bizarre mass of shifting shapes and colou-

TAKESHI SHIELD YOUR EYES!!
Vitalia's voice echoes into my mind, stinging as it bounces off my consciousness. Immediately, as if it were reflex, I shifted my eyes to the left. Averting the sight of the unnatural phenomenon.
Vitalia... What was that?
A Custodian...
Immediately, I could feel a chill growing down my spine. The hairs on my skin rising. I knew danger is coming.
We... we need to go...
No need for excessive measures, Takeus. We are safe from its gaze for now. Just... do not look back.
Safe? Why? Their presence signify calamity!
This is their realm, Takeus. They are the wardens of the Catalog. Right now they are patrolling the realm.
Patrolling? But nothing lives in this realm. Let alone enough to attract their attention.
Remember of how I said that negative faith tend to attract magical energy?
Indeed...
Who, in all of the realm, produce the most negative energy?
Our tribalistic people?
Oh. Right. Not the correct answer I was hoping. A bit further more than that. Constantly negative without a shred of hope.
Oh! Schizos?
Of course. Schizo gatherings and invasions bring with them a mass concentration of RRAT gestalt consciousness. A massive sink of negativity.
Enough to redirect all magical energy into one spot...
Certainly.

I carefully swim forward, looking down to avoid getting in the way of activated threads passing by, and to avoid gazing at the incomprehensible sight of the Custodian in the distance.
As I stared off into the distance, I see a thread whose appearance was peculiar. It was emitting light brighter than the others. It was rapidly moving upwards in an erratic manner.
Oh what perfect timing. Do you see that thread, Takeus?
I nod. Pointing at it.
Where does it lead to?
A den. A schizo den. The massive concentration of negative thoughts and RRAT psionics have clearly affected it.
Before I could say anything, I saw the amorphous figure rapidly moving towards the tear in reality. I instinctively know to not look at it. Yet my curiousity demands that I see what happens next.
In a mere instant, the Custodian latches onto the Schizo connected thread with its myriad tendrils. Sliding its figure into the crevice and slowly fading into view. As the Custodian disappeared from my sight, so was the thread.

What... What just happened?
Pruned. The Custodian pruned that thread.
Pruned? Like a branch?
Exactly. It's now gone. The connection between this world and whatever hive of heretical insanity it led to has been severed.
In that case, the Schizos are no longer receiving magical energy?
Only for the ones in that specific location. Turn a hard right and look up.
I did as she ordered and stared into the distance. There was no mistake. In the uppermost point, as far as I can see through this helmet, is the erratic outline of a thread. A schizo thread.
That bridge has been up for a week now. It's unstable. A whirlpool leeching off magical energy meant for other places.
A week? Why is that connection still maintained? Are the Custodians not aware of it?
They are. I have seen a Custodian avoiding obvious Schizo threads. And immediately goes to destroy a nearby bridge instead. One that was connected to regions that needed magical energy.
Why?
I can not answer that. In fact, no one can. The Custodians in the material world clearly hunt Schizos, yet here they are allowing them to feed off energy.
Are they... fattening them up? Like a farmer?
Perhaps. Or are they intentionally strengthening them.

Vitalia's words struck me to my core. I may have not understood the nature of Custodians nor their motive. But to see firsthand that the proclaimed protectors of natural law bending the rules to their whim was shocking. A blow to the reality that I have built myself from travelling the lands as a scribe. I have read accounts of Custodians protecting towns from Schizo raids. For another, the Varangians told tales of Custodians carelessly razing their lands like a natural disaster. Maybe I am too optimistic. Maybe one day the Custodians will turn a blind eye towards Infinitum. Who knows if that day will come.

With that out of the way, your crash course on the Catalog is finally completed.
Crash course? That was an entire lecture. My intuition tells me this is but one class out of many.
Do not let that bother you. You've seen most of everything necessary you need to survive. Do not go into any random threads, be careful of thread movement, and do not get in the way of the Custodians.
Can we actually travel now?
Oh certainly. Though specifically, you will be travelling.
You are not accompanying me?
Sadly I could not. We are already at the edge of the Kronie Noosphere. Far beyond where you are floating, I can no longer hear nor speak to you clearly.
The edge? But I have only been swimming a short distance.
That short distance you went through is a huge travel in the material world. Which is why to wander off in here spells doom.
In your rough estimate, how far have I travelled in the material sense?
Difficult to say. But since the Noosphere beyond here are mixed with those of the Southern Empire's, we have travelled very far.
That... is a huge difference in distance. It would have taken ships weeks!
Indeed. If it were not for the dangers of this place and the chaotic nature of it, many would profit off turning this realm as a shortcut between ports and cities. But as you can see from the myriad of shipwrecks and mummified corpses, it's not a grand idea. Let alone a cheap one from the process needed to open the gate.
But... I am in a protective suit. The vessel that was sent here successfully landed into the material unharmed.
That suit can only protect you as long as that chuubanite stays active. Once its energy burns up, the copium and hopium concentration will erode it away.
Shouldn't this piece of chuubanite stay alive forever? For we are already in the realm where its energy derived from?
No that is not how magical conceptual energy works. How do I say this... We are in the land of every food imaginable, but yours will only consume grain. Not just any grain, but a very specific type of grain. By itself it cannot absorb every grain it needs from this concentrated mass of food. That is the duty of threads. They are sieves to separate the grains it needs to survive from the other foodstuffs it could not consume. Was that simple enough?
Actually, that really was.
As for the vessel, did it landed where it should be?
It did not...
That is your answer.
How did the vessel went off-course onto a different continent anyway?
You saw threads jumping between altitudes and extremely unstable ones behaving like whirlpools. You can make some guesses of that.
You are right. How did I not made that connection.
I guess this is where we part ways. You're already sounding dim to my ears.
Will we meet again soon?
If the wigs allow it, sure. A scribe like you deserve to read up on our knowledge. Farewell, Takeshi.
Farewell, Officer.

As I swam forward, I could no longer hear the hum of her voice inside my head.
Beyond me are open waters. Infested with dangers.
I raise my wrist and stare at the VT-meter. The Kronii chuubanite bead has sunk completely. Her words were right.
This is the mindscape of heathens and heretics now.
The piece of chuubanite is still glowing hot. My only safety in this unforgiving realm.

Carefully, I look around me for any impending dangers.
The sight of corpses floating around had become a familiar sight. Explorers and adventurers that perished in their journey through this realm.
As I swim, I stare intently at the VT-meter. The Hana and Pomu chuubanite are slowly sinking to the bottom. I have escaped the Noosphere of the Southern Empire.
The one I needed to keep focus on is the yellow bead. Made of Pikamee chuubanite. A material from the land in which the poor vessel was sent off to.
Once this bead starts moving, I am within its effective Noosphere. The range of Pikamee worshippers.
In turn, the threads here connect to the place I needed to be.
Or anywhere in close range hopefully.

I stopped swimming. Just in the nick of time.
In front of me, I watch as several objects were moving away. Blades, armor, cannonballs, and other tools of war.
Bloodied and battered, they were recently used.
Oddly enough they were all heading off in the same direction. I look towards it, confusion is what I could describe my mind.
Various objects were moving slowly toward the same point. Cannons, structural pieces, even ships.
The convergence point appears to be a thread. But one unlike the others I see floating about.
Larger in size, and different in geometry. Like a bleeding wound upon a skin.
I stare at the VT-Meter, the Pikamee chuubanite bead is rapidly vibrating at the top. It's detecting an excessive concentration of its magical energy here.

But as I was about to turn my gaze away, I felt it. A hard, but mildly painful blunt force. Moving at a rapid speed towards me, pushing me along its path.
I recollect my conscious and study the object that struck me. A vault. A large heavy vault. I attempt to let myself go from the object and swim away.
It was then I felt my arm stuck. My hand had been lodged in-between the vault's wheel lock.

Quickly I attempt to dislodge myself. I stopped immediately. The piece of Kronii chuubanite on my suit. The defensive repellant. It is stuck.
Should I pull my limb further, it will be removed from its place. A foolish move to instantly suffocate.
I could feel as the vault picks up speed. I am heading closer towards the whirlpool!
I try to guide my arm carefully around the lock. How did it even got stuck without any damages done in the first place?!

Carefully and carefully...
Gwak...

My arm struck the vault directly on the chuubanite.
It was faint but I could feel it. A short fraction of a second in which it creaked.
The chuubanite is still in its slot. But it has now become loose.
I calm myself down, praying to Kronii to protect me in my time of trouble. With that I slowly take a deep breath.
The smells of hopium.

Aahh! This is not good! The leak has begun! I stare at the whirlpool getting closer and closer. Where does it lead? I do not know. Judging by how the VT-meter is showing, somewhere really concentrated in energy. If I were to let go of this vault, I will suffocate in an instant.

By the Kronissiah what is this test!?
The whirlpool rapidly approaches. I watch as swords, cannonballs, and other objects of metal falling into it.
Hold on, metal? Why metal?

I try not to overthink and try to find myself a way out of this.
There is no other option.
Follow the debris and fall into the whirlpool.
Or death by suffocation and which my corpse will also fall into the whirlpool at this range.
Logically, one of the options does not involved my early demise.

There was no other way. I let out a sigh. I close my eyes.
Kronii, I pray that this does not end badly for me.
Gwak!

---

Day Twelve

Usually I celebrate the satisfaction when accomplishing the impossible. Such as travelling the Gulf of Ailivia to document, and understand, our neighbours and potential allies. Yet here I am feeling unsatisfied. For the sight I am beholding right now do not improve my already conflicting emotions, merely adding more fuel to its flame.

Confusion. Insignificance. Awe. Those were the words I could describe what I am feeling. Beyond me lies the vista that seemed impossible to envision. A dream of an entranced shaman made real. Huge swathes of desert in-between a mountain valley as far as my eyes can scan. Littered throughout the valley were various objects and artifacts ranging in sizes, colours, and designs. Some were partly buried in the sands, some were but a small literal tip of a spear jutting out of a dune, bunkers can be seen sprawling all over like a seedling growing out of the ground, and then there was the centrepiece of it all. A huge iron fortress of a ship, lying partly buried in the sand.

This is where the Catalog spits out the metal it swallowed; the Corpse of Monoe as the natives call it.

My eyes scour up and down the great expanse of metal and rock, of sand and rust; riddled with glinting swords and precarious hoodoos in between. There was not an easy way down into this valley. A leap of faith is tempting, but the chances of stumbling towards a spearhead is never nil. Besides, I would quite like being alive for the time being.

Misaki called out from my left. She points towards a cliffside she is standing on. It was not visible at first, but the rocks were zig-zagging down into the valley. Soft sand filling its crevices and spaces. A natural flight of stars.

Although to traverse it, it may not be as natural. I point back towards our steed behind us. Misaki shook her head. Sadly we have to leave our beast of burden behind, along with our more weighty equipment.

Tying her harness to a nearby acacia, I gave the kamila a pat on the head before leaving her to her own. As I turned around, I saw the creature resting in the shade of the tree. A well worth rest from the intense journey we have been through.

Carefully, with gentle steps, I scale down the natural rock face. Misaki had went beforehand. She was a natural indeed. Sliding down the sand as naturally as a leaf in a river current. I could not help but notice a new habit she had picked up recently. Her thumb gently squeezing over the exposed 'flesh' where her ring finger used to be. She longed for the missing piece of her.

As I descent, the shadow of the fortress of a ship entered my view. Shielding my figure from the blinding desert sun. Cool air envelops around me. A wonderful change of pace. Carefully, I stabilised myself as I land onto the ground by the cliffside. Luckily in time. Barely in my step, I notice several metal pieces jutting out of the sand. Shrapnels. With signs of soot and wear.

Avoiding the sharp obstruction was just the beginning. I stare into the sands in front of me. It seemed clear enough to traverse. Yet I looked further above to see Misaki, leaping several metres above the ground.

Typical adventurers.

Easy does it. With a limp forward, I try to look for any blades that may claim my life.

That was my plan, until I notice a blur of magenta and beige landing in front of me. I closed my eyes, shielding from the dust cloud. Misaki slowly came into view. Offering her hand towards me. Her better hand, with all of her fingers intact.

She seemed impatient.

I nodded and before I knew it, her arms wrapped behind my back and my legs. With a burst of air, the girl jumped towards the derelict ship. Cutting my travel time significantly. She descent onto the bow, or what used to be, of the ship. A loud clang, a bang, and a thunk. That's Kronie metalworks for you.

Misaki put me down gently. I thank her as I regain my bearings. A door lies in front of us, one into the belly of the iron beast. I grabbed the handle and unlocked the door, sliding it back to reveal a hallway. Lighted by the portholes and crevices, dim and softly. The door pulled back harder than I expected. The desert sands have made the hinges smoother than it started with. Barely any friction was felt.

We stepped into the hallway, slowly making our way in. It did not took long for us to arrive at the ship's living quarters. A wooden bar greeted us, with tables and stools of various positions. Glass bottles lie deserted on the countertop. Its contents still untouched. The warm desert sunlight peered through the windows, casting a glistening silhouette onto the bar's wall.

'Right. We're here. Now what were you saying before?' As if by instinct, I immediately opened my mouth. I had been patient enough before. But the events that transpired as of recent has cut my fuse short. 'Misaki, just what are you?'

'Takeus... Before I do this, I need to ask you something.' She blurted the instant I finished my question. 'What you are about to hear, everything that you will see, is not something anyone can gain through normal means.' Her eyes stared back at me, cold and unforgiving in nature. 'I require payment.'

'Payment?' Typical adventurers indeed. I had always assume that one of these days she would squeeze the living lights out of me. Gutting me like a fish. Is this what she want? Material compensation just to explain whatever had transpired? Let it be. 'How much. Give your price, and I will try to pay it. If it's too much from what I have right now, then we can-'

'Takeus. I am not asking for your wealth. I've only got one request; Tell me the time.'

Forget about cutting my fuse in half, I think someone just let it alight.

'That's it? That's your payment? It's bad enough you've been hiding the truth from me all this time and now you're just mocking my culture? My belief?! If that's what you want, sure! It's half past, in Kronii's name, twelve! That's the current time!' I snapped. For once in my life I snapped with such blinding rage. It came naturally too. The words leaving my mouth like a morning breath. The payment is done. It is time for my well deserved exchange. 'Now tell me, the truth!'

'You want the truth, huh? Is that how badly you want it?! You want the whole Mc'Fuck'a'doodle-doo truth?!' with a stomp, Misaki grabbed a stool and sat down. Her arms crossed as was her feelings. 'This. Is. The truth!'

Eagerly, I await for the words to escape her lips. Any second now. I blinked twice and stared deeply at her stern portrait of a face. Still tense and tight, not a sign of opening up. 'There was no truth is there?' the words escaping from my lips on reflex.

'Takeus...' her lips parted. Instantaneously, I noticed her face switched from a serious one, to a rather melancholic one. Akin to a mother saddened by a grieving news of her children. 'tell... tell me the time. Please...' she softly murmured in a guilty tone.

What was this witch of a woman trying to play at with me? 'Enough smoke and mirrors! I just told you that! Please...' I plead for an answer with the best I could. I have had enough with her tricks. Her deceit. Why is she still insisting on toying m-

'Takeus... tell me.' she demanded again. More somber this time.

I grabbed my pocket watch and read the time. Even before my eyes laid on the clock hands, I could feel it in my gut. Something was wrong. A unfathomable concoction of fear and deja-vu. What is this? My hands were shaking. I could feel my heart descending down on my diaphragm. 'Two... in the afternoon...' I stared at the bottle on the desk. Its shadow had changed position. Exactly as if time had passed naturally.

No. No no no. This must be another one of her parlour carnival tricks, a masquerade of the mind. My watch could not have been faulty! Did she tampered with it?

I gave Misaki a gaze into her eyes. As if she knew the question forming in my mind, she slowly shook her head.

'I didn't do anything, Takeus. I didn't tampered with your watch.' she murmured. Her voice was as if she was on the verge of tears.

'Did- did you sk-'

'Skipped... time? Not possible.'

'Why can't you-'

'Tell you? Takeus... You may not remember it. But we have been sitting here, discussing about it for two hours. I've told you everything you wanted to hear. I've even told you everything that you, like any mortal, should not hear! We had a conversation! We had a debate! You asked questions and I answered them!' Misaki formed a fist with her hand, slamming it on the desk. 'You know why you just realised that I'm not telling you anything? It's because I had just. Shut. Up!'

I... I can not think anymore. It felt as if the world around me is spinning. Is this vertigo? I grabbed the table. Trying to balance myself. So it is real. Like raindrops hitting a sheet of wax paper.

'This is why I can not help you, scribe. Anti-knowledge. The very poison those Custodian bastards cursed upon this world.'

'Anti-knowledge? What... so.... there are some things in this world that I can't know of?! I am a scribe! My duty in life is to seek and write down knowledge. I've crossed seas, fought soldiers... done things any other scribe would've wished they done!' I slouched backwards. The last of my breath have escaped my lungs. I took a deep breath. Fixing my posture for another round.

'And now you're telling me, that there are powers intentionally keeping some knowledge hidden?! Making me forget them! For what reason? What sort of knowledge merits such blasphemy!' I stared at the girl, deep into her rosy pupils.

'Knowledge... that would have turned you into a schizo.' She said without a pause. The moment I digested that phrase, the vertigo that washed over me felt like it was pouring out from between my fingers.

'Wh-what do you me-' I paused. Judging from what she had revealed to me, I think it's best not to continue. '-I assume I have already asked you that question already. Before my memories of it was erased.'

'Yes. Yes you have.' She paused. Her face darker than the shadows of the room. 'You see, in my years of finding ways of getting around the limits of what I can or can not say, I've picked up a couple of shortcuts.' For a moment, I could've sworn I saw a smile on her. 'If directly telling you the answers won't do any good. I'd reckon to go around it...'

'You mean you could've told me this?' I was stumped. Even without my memories of the conversation she brought up, I somehow felt a deja-vu knocking on the back of my head.

'I did. You refused. I knew I had to show you the full picture before you're convinced.' she exclaimed. Colour me convinced definitely.

'Alright. Lay it on me.' I said. Perhaps she knew a better way around to explain this.

'There are some knowledge that people like you, normal people, shouldn't know of. Not that you can't get it, oh no it's all over the place. But it just won't stick into your noggin. Anti-knowledge, that's what we in the know called it. Normal folks who attempt to perceive this knowledge, will get far more than they should.' Misaki paused, pointing towards her temple. 'They don't just got their eyes wide opened to this forbidden knowledge. Their whole mind was asunder. Like a gaping wound receiving this, infection. They turned schizo. All of them.'

'What kind of details are in this... anti-knowledge?' I said. But before I could get an answer, she's already pointed at my clock. 'Figures.'

'Have you ever been up close to a schizo?' she asked. Her eyes twinkling with excitement.

'I've had my fair share.' I said. Recalling my experiences up close and personal with these feral, yet still intelligent, sub-people.

'That headache you get when you're around them. That's the forbidden knowledge trying to drill its way in. Their collective psychic rrat field. They can perceive the forbidden, and they're forcing it onto your psyche!' Misaki's words carved a niche into my already expanding list of fears.

'Wait. All those ramblings the schizos say and carved. They're not-'

'Random insane blabberings? It's a matter of perspective. But if you knew, you REALLY knew. The reason you mortals have a headache looking at schizo runes is that your mind is trying its hardest to erase everything you're seeing. Custodians rush to prune what you have seen from your being.'

'Then, what does this anti-knowledge have anything to do with me being here?'

'Put two and two together, Longclock. You could not remember anything that brought you here. Recall Madame Montre and the Infinitum carriage, and the eyewitness accounts of your adventures with them.'

I paused. The puzzle pieces. They were finally fitting in.

'You mean, I've been here all along, but I can't remember it because... Madame Montre is a schizo?!'

---

Day Negative Two

[DATA REDACTED] Awaiting decryption...

---

Day Zero

[DATA REDACTED] Awaiting decryption...

---

Day Thirteen

"Is that it?" I asked. "That's it?" I asked once more. Inquisitively this time.

"Indeed." A nod. This was her only reply. We had exhausted our options at this time. They have passed beyond the point of no return.

I stood still. My stomach churns. The sight of dead Ourobros apostates whose faces I had cut open was far more pleasant than this.

"Now, only a miracle could save us." I murmured under my breath.

"This universe was not created by miracles, Takeus. Only effort matters." Misaki reassures. "Only efforts."

END