As a professor who constantly travelled between the layers of the academy through the central tower, Hugo Brandle's reactions as the lift fluttered were much more reserved and stable, contrary to the students'. He had graduated from a small academy and worked his way towards the peak of Combat-Type Rune Arts. Even the first time he had stood on this elevator, the force exerted wasn't close to enough for his prideful strength to even vibrate a little.
However, it was shattered by something else in the academy—a man who stood solemnly at the final destination of the central tower.
He cursed himself silently for agreeing to Nathan's unreasonable request, but it was too late to break a promise and a young man's admiration toward him.
One of the rules in the academy stated that students were only permitted to visit layers below their current year, never the reverse. With the highest layer—or the spire of the central tower—being the principal's office, it was often expected for students never to receive the fortunate glory of witnessing Henry Nox's room.
When the lift finally halted its trembling rise, a slight vibration fixed it in the highest position, reassuringly stable for a height almost reaching above the clouds. With a screech that could barely be felt in the enormous space, it turned out that the elevator had four doors to open rather than only one, one for each side of the rectangle, with the largest and most decadent one directly in front.
It led to a corridor possessing the offices of the academy's highest superiors. Even sector heads like him and Clara Marshall didn't have the luxury of receiving a position among them. Nobody except for the insiders knew who was part of the central offices: principals, vice principals, and probably some mysterious figures who would not reveal their presence on a daily basis.
Even so, visiting the principal as a professor wasn't the rarest occasion in the academy. Henry Nox got whatever needed to be done in the most efficient and quickest ways humans could imagine. Most of the time, he would be standing before the window of his office, gazing down at his academy as well as the rest of Runalond in serene silence. It was almost as if he would've preferred it if professors came to chat, but the same desire was absent among the latter.
As usual, the doors of the long corridor leading to the principal's office were locked shut, their shape providing no insight into who their owners might be. Hugo Brandle rushed toward his destination and knocked on the door as gently as he could.
"Come in, and don't even bother knocking next time. The whole academy could hear someone of your weight stampeding the ground."
Hugo sighed and pushed the door open with silent acceptance. It was a globally known fact that the principal of the Imperial Academy, Henry Nox, couldn't live without criticising literally everyone he saw.
Every time he would walk into this world, it felt like his eyes had been opened—as if he had flipped over the page of a book and entered a realm that could only exist in one's dreams. Henry's office seemed endless, a cavern where voices would take seconds to bounce back in faint echoes. Hugo had to concentrate and rub his eyes before the principal's relatively dwarfish figure on the other side could come into view.
Not only was the room colossal, it was also ridiculously empty, with only a simplistic desk and sofa set lying quietly on the ground. The only decoration seemed to be the sunlight that poured onto the floor through the window that replaced the far side of the wall.
Henry, as always, stood by the window without looking back, his voice horrifyingly loud and clear despite the kilometres of distance between them.
"Brandle, hm? I apologise for the foolish mistake of not giving you enough work, that your lazy ass could enjoy a nice evening walk to my office. No, no, don't get me wrong, it's my mistake, not yours—I hope you get that."
Hugo decided to take the mockery voicelessly while he jogged his way across the office. Only then did he notice that there was someone else sitting in tranquil stillness on the sofa. Well, quite an inappropriate usage of the word "someone." It was something that resembled a humanoid physique, with normal limbs and eight extra arms extended from his spine. Where a face should have been was replaced with a glass screen of perplexing patterns and pictures.
The regular black and white suit didn't make the scenery more appealing or natural; instead, it did quite the opposite.
Hugo Brandle wasn't an idiot—he knew exactly who this thing was.
Spirehead of the Tower of Development: The Indesipherable.
He couldn't remember when the tradition started, but from a moment in history, there had always been an unwritten rule for anyone who wanted to become the spirehead of this extremist tower: they must replace their entire body with Rune Arts–powered instruments, without a single piece of human flesh, blood, or organs present.
Critics always raised a remarkable question whenever the Indesipherable entered a conversation: When a heart was replaced with an engine, when a brain was substituted by a calculator—could such entities still be considered "human?"
Hugo lowered his head respectfully and continued toward Henry's location. Once he was certain he could hear him, he raised his voice.
"Sir…"
But he was interrupted instantly.
"Hey, Brandle, could you go bring me a cup of tea?"
With twitching expressions, Hugo ran back toward the sofa set, grabbed a cup of tea, and delivered it to Henry. This extra lap was enough to exhaust an ordinary grown man, but Professor Brandle's body was definitely not considered ordinary.
"Thank you very much. Now, can you also get me the files on my desk? The one with my signature on it."
"Sir, do you need anything else?" Hugo sighed once again; his prideful nature always seemed to conceal itself in the presence of this man.
"No, this is the final lap—I promise."
Hugo did what he was told.
"Mister Nox, may I please have a—"
Turning around to receive the files, Henry Nox signalled him to silence. "Jeez, what's the rush? Do you need to leave the academy to attend a family member's funeral? Permission granted, if so; go ahead."
"You know what, sir? I'll just go find someone else." Hugo scratched his head in visible frustration. He vowed never to step foot into this hell of a room again. If insults were physical objects, Henry's office would not be enough to contain his words.
"I'm just joking. Why do you sound so mad?" Henry replied lazily as he took a gentle sip of his tea. His eyes were fixed on the regulations on the paper rather than the conversation. "Just some advice: bad temper shortens your lifespan; watch out for that.
"Oh, by the way, the master key is on the desk; take it if you want."
Hearing his words, Hugo turned around instantly in profound surprise. "Sir…? How did you know…" He had seen the key when he went to fetch the files—he just hadn't thought that deeply about it.
"Because Nathan Modernson is clever," Henry interrupted as if he were talking to a fool, "and I'm also not an idiot. Which leaves you as the variable." He tapped the files. "Deliver this message with the key: My door is open to the boy anytime. And in case you still manage to mess up, just do exactly as he says. Unless he orders you to jump off the tower. Though I'm unwillingly inclined to believe your intellect is not that low."
Even after Professor Brandle stepped out of the room with his muddled brain and the master key in hand, he still couldn't figure out how Henry had predicted his request. Did he read his mind? Was there even a Rune Art like that? he wondered.
After he left, The Indesipherable rose stiffly. No one knew where his voice came from, considering his mouth was nonexistent.
"Query: RAF SSS 2, Mirror, offspring… Request failure—target: Null."
"His name is Edgar, Edgar Helmander," Henry replied flatly.
"Edgar Helmander, incorporated into memory bank… Analysis complete. Activate mode: standard. Request success."
With a bunch of random numbers and symbols flashing across his face, a face suddenly replaced the glass screen. Unless you carefully looked into his features, The Indesipherable seemed just like any ordinary human—just with eight spider-leg extensions on his back.
"Mirror lacks forgiveness parameters," he stated with a smooth yet natural voice, "Intruding his offspring is statistically unwise."
Henry didn't answer. He took a step forward and looked down toward the elegant capital Endnest with sheer admiration in his hollowed eyes. The streets below, usually so overwhelming and lively, seemed nothing more than an ant nest from his current perspective.
"My friend, take a look at the beauty of Runalond down below," he murmured, almost as if talking to himself.
The Indesipherable took several steps forward as well, standing beside him to accompany his examination.
"Status: peaceful. No abnormality detected."
Again, Henry didn't answer directly.
"Your mechanical brain would not understand."
"Runalond is a great kingdom—the first in history to unite the entire world into one. Yet, story and reality sometimes hold differing opinions."
"This beautiful paradise—does it belong to Royalty or the Rune Arts Federation? The King? The Supreme Seven Seats? Or the Four Pathtowers? Does it belong to the citizens? Or only the aristocrats? Does it belong to the legends of the past? Or to the mysteries of the future?"
"Maybe it belongs to me. Perhaps it belongs to you. None could agree. None dared to decide."
"The owner of this land—the missing piece to this puzzle—the answer to these questions, lie in the asking itself."
"Do not worry. Conflicts are unavoidable—or rather, they shouldn't be avoided at all. What every faction wanted was present before their eyes the entire time, but only few wanted to accept the harsh reality."
Tilting his head slightly, The Indesipherable replied quietly, his voice sounding even more like an ordinary human.
"Your cognitive patterns diverge from recorded data, Henry Nox."
Hearing his words, a smile crept onto Henry's face. And it began to grow—from a reserved laughter of amusement to a thundering guffaw of excitement, and eventually to a lunatic, unstable roar that trembled the room more than the elevator of the central tower.
"Patterns? Records? Data? Those fools know NOTHING about me—hahaha…"
Eventually, the deafening howl came to a stop—an instant, terrifying halt. Sometimes, silence could be more horrifying than an outburst.
Henry's eyes descended into a spiral of insanity, one that could send shivers through an ordinary person just by looking into them. But of course, The Indesipherable was definitely not considered ordinary.
"Neither," Henry added hoarsely, "do you."