"Omega, these values I'm reading. Am I right in suggesting the rest of the world doesn't necessarily operate using this metric?"
{That is correct my host. To acquire the careful breakdown of the mana cores' role in line with the very hard-to-research volatile Mental Sphere. Omega has had to adapt its matrix to fit some equations similar to the world the host once knew}
{Omega hopes that with a familiar metric to understand the intricacies of spell casting, the host will find the information easily digestible}
Roland needed a few minutes to compose himself. But first, thinking a little deeply about Omega's active role, made the corners of his mouth pull into a slight smile. For some reason, it felt good hearing Omega explain the measures it took to assist his learning. Of course, he understood the system was solely designed for that purpose. But Roland owed it a lot more than performing the role of an ideal teacher. The system sought to protect him, first and foremost.
"There's a lot to get my head around, but honestly, it's not as complex as I had first thought. I guess my biggest issues will be with purifying mana quick enough." Considering he was still unsure about his mana core situation, Roland still couldn't know what areas he would struggle with without practice.
From a logical standpoint, Roland understood how easily spells could go wrong. In fact, one of these tall sheets of information carefully detailed the common things to expect when a spell goes wrong.
Backlash – if the energies aren't handled well, the caster will take the intended damage themselves. Miscommunication – Incantations of a particular ilk (death and summoning spells) may evoke a wrong spirit or a ghost Unintentional Calamity – when a taboo or forbidden incantation is cast. The cosmos may respond. Emotional Effects - some incantations draw out the wrong emotion. A spell cast intending to heal but evoked with the emotions to do harm will alter the spell's effects.
Just reading some of these effects made Roland uncomfortable. To think trying to miscast a spell could have such catastrophic consequences. Now that Roland had an extensive breakdown of how incantations worked. He thought it wasn't surprising that people used tools, items, and intermediaries to help them cast spells.
"It's better to be sure about casting a spell rather than chancing it and ending up opening the gates of hell!"
Roland also considered the practicalities of using tools and items to cast a spell in real-time.
"I would bet most of the casting time revolves around the time it takes purifying mana to comb it with mental energy to evoke the spell."
His countenance gradually turned sullen. Roland could already see where his problems would likely be.
"At least my mental sphere doesn't have those problems. Since I have Omega, it's likely a lot more sophisticated than others. Hmm, Omega, show me my stats, please."
#Base Stats#
- Strength: 0.9/5
- Speed: 1.2/5
- Vitality: 1.7/5
- Intelligence: 2.1/5
- Body Tier: 1.1/5 (Low Iron Ranked Body)
- Mentality: 3.27/15
"Any ideas of the rate of growth for the bloodlust value?"
{Omega is still gathering information to make an accurate understanding of the bloodlust and its effects on the host}
Roland sighed to himself. There was still that unknown noose straddled around his neck when it came down to that problem. 'Drinking blood is not something I plan on doing for the rest of my life.' Roland still planned on finding out if there was something he could do about that with magic. But he understood he was likely far away from that.
For now, he decided to take the positives as they arrived.
An unknown amount of time passed, and Omega advised Roland that he had spent too long in his sea of awareness, prompting Roland's return to the real world.
***
The fog of haze gently lifted, and Roland's eyelids felt heavy as they flickered back open into the familiar scene of the wooden ceiling sitting in his clear view.
He felt a tenderness around his fingertips, but the sensation felt like fatigue more than anything else.
'This is good, I can already feel a subtle change in my thoughts. '
Clarity was a growing sentiment to him each day. Roland lifted himself upright into a seated position and beckoned a yawn. Only halfway through, he almost choked upon the sudden smooth voice grating his ears.
"You're finally awake, young Lord."
Roland might've jumped out of his skin if he wasn't always a tiny bit aware due to his iron-ranked body.
His death knight was unearthed away from the shadows coating one side of the wall. He was surprised to see the short girl with the blindfold appear beside him.
"You sleep like a man who has no cares in the world. I envy the free and jobless folk, " said the girl, giving him a thumbs-up.
The willow gave her a gentle nudge which straightened her posture and tightened her lips again.
"Young Lord, there is something we need to discuss."
Roland sensed by the mood something was off, he quickly tried to comb over his memories before his eyes flashed open knowingly.
'Ah, they must've already suspected something. Tsk, I thought I had at least a few days to plan my alibi, ah well.'
Without saying anything Roland climbed out of his bed and approached the two figures dressed in black.
"So which one of my lovely family sent for me then?" Rolands tone was playful albeit serious.
The willow seemed unusually tense, and the short silver-haired girl almost wanted to pretend she wasn't there.
"They're…all waiting for your arrival in the grand hall. The patriarch included." The willow stiffened to say.
"Gods! That's…not good."
His death knight shook his head before opening the door. He held it open and beckoned Roland through it.
"If it does not displease you, young master, I just have one thing to ask."
Roland's eyes beamed with surprise, but he quickly nodded.
"Of course, ask what you want to ask me?" He said with a light smile.
"D-did you have anything to do with the disappearance of the young Miss Alyssa?"
Roland drew a surprised expression, he had already made a decision whether or not he would be honest with at least the one person he could say he trusted here.
He grabbed one of the blazers and fitted his youthful frame into the clothes. He hastened for his fine boots, and slipped them on, before tucking the tiny laces inside. When he finally walked towards the opened door, he gave the masked fellow draped in black a firm but warm hand against his high shoulders.
"You are my friend, and I trust you. So I ask you to just trust me. I'll tell you everything when the time is right."
The willow lowered its head gently. "Thank you, young master." He whispered through.
Roland creased an affectionate smile. He removed his hands and placed them back into his pockets.
Before he moved again he heard the sound of a voice yawning. Shifting his eyes slightly to the left. The silver hair girl stood there, seemingly staring directly at him by the way she angled her body.
A knowing flicker shone in Roland's warm eyes and whilst he parted his lips to say something, the little swallows ears perked up expectantly.
Roland instead shielded his mouth before exhaling a deep yawn of his own. He removed his gaze away from her and walked out the door.
By the time he had turned the corner.
A flash of rage tailed his walk halfheartedly of course, before a stiff arm held the girl back.
"Tsk! That little arsehole, he's still butt hurt I didn't let him win a single sparring session. Hmph, are these the types of men being raised these days? Rascal."
"What he proclaims to me also shares out to you." Spoke a cool voice beside her. The rage quietened down and the little girl started pondering.
"We are one. And he's an exceptional boy capable of understanding when to be soft, and when to be ruthless. Trust…him."
Since her arrival so far the little swallow had never pulled such a face of deep shock. Staring at the figure before her, her acute awareness quickly understood what this feeling and expression defined.
"You ca-care about him don't you?." This drew a silent thought whilst she smoothed her chin with her head slightly lowered
"You think him that special? B-brother?"
The willow nodded and with its face shielded behind the eccentric mask, it stared almost nightmarishly beautifull towards the opened empty doorway.
"Other than the patriarch, there is one other being I hold a knowing weariness towards. Believe it or not. The young master would be that second person.
Whilst Roland struggled to muster enough excuses and reasons why he couldn't possibly be involved. He wasn't exactly relishing the idea of appearing before his grandfather so soon, especially after the forced betrothal conversation. And enough coincidences usually painted a much more obvious scenario. Only the most corrupt persecutor would examine his involvement and say his hands are clean. But Roland intended to do exactly that.
To lie his way until it became believable.
He peeped over his shoulders catching the two figures trailing behind him. Roland turned a left corner and arrived at the two redwood doors pressed together. Dark golden colours were embroidered against the two wide doors. There was naturally a tense feeling of caution within him, but he had already expected this outcome for the sake of achieving his freedom. Now, Roland just needed to make sure he made it out of this place alive.
Using his two hands he gently pushed aside the door. Where an assembly of people greeted him with cold or indifferent stares. Roland didn't take them all in, he scanned across the many faces as though everyone looked the same. Searching for one face in particular. The figurehead of the clan, who sat against a tall backed high chair on the far end of the long table between them both.
'The patriarch.' There was a gleam in his eyes as he took in the imposing figure again draped in silk black and gold.
Roland took a few steps forward and cordially bowed his head.
"Patriarch." He spoke solemnly.
His entrance paved the way for a chorus of chattering and murmurs. Roland took a measured pause before slowly lifting his head. Lady Herone was the first person outside the Patriarch that he quickly noticed. Her gaze was filled with a calculated emptiness, Roland knew it was a curious stare, seeing if he revealed anything minor to solidify his guilt.
He blinked with a soft smile and observed the other people seated around the table. Mariah, wearing an uncomfortable look. She narrowed her gaze like a hawk towards him. But the two women held nothing on the clear sign of rage masked against most of the men, young and old present.
The little blonde boy he knew of course. But Roland blankly observed the two new additions. Two young men who he imagined were not so much older than he was. The one not so far away was a spiked brown-haired boy, his eyes looked crooked and his thin face was a downcast mask of hostility. He reminded Roland of a prince dressed in black.
Roland shifted his eyes slightly to the side, where he beheld the second youth. A pretty-looking boy, with smoothly combed bleach blonde-haired. He carried blue eyes and a deeply irritated scowl that seemed to be filled with something personal.
Roland examined the youth staring daggers into the side of his face, and wondered which cousin this was. And why he looked so angry right now.
"Ahem?"
There was a hush against the air. And a shadow appeared beside him. A dark-haired man with a dandy moustache and thin built. Roland had seen him enough times to know who he was by now.
'The butler who worked for Lady Herone.'
"Now that all members have arrived. I shall introduce the esteemed guest. Our Lady of divine rivers. Our graceful Queen, Lady Herone and her husband, Lord Eric Cloud. Proceeded by the three heirs. Mariah Cloud, Lotten Cloud and Edmond Cloud.
In attendance, Lord Alto Cloud proceeded by his son, Master Govan Cloud."
Roland then felt all eyes fall against him again.
"And also in attendance, bastard son of the late First Lady. Child of the branch family. Ahem, Roland…Smoke." Rodrick announced with a clear reproach in his tone. He dutifully withdrew himself behind Roland again. Leaving the boy in the spotlight of all the cold glares pressed towards him.