Chapter 24: Unboxing
Oswin formulated his question carefully. "I have answered two questions. So, I want two in return. First—how are you able to use mystical powers without singing a hymn?"
He had some potent knowledge from Ignis, but he knew she hadn't told him everything. There were gaps in what he understood—things that didn't add up.
The old man chuckled. "It seems your mystical knowledge is quite lacking," he commented, shaking his head in mild amusement. "But I suppose that's to be expected. You would have learned it sooner or later. But if you wish to waste one of your questions on it, then so be it."
Oswin didn't react, he was listening carefully and silently, he did not want to miss hearing a single word.
"A performer with a high enough rank," the old man continued, "can use hymns to 'bless' themselves."
Oswin's grip tightened slightly. Blessing…?
"A blessing controls cause and effect," the old man explained, his voice slow and deliberate. "The effect depends on the hymn used to create the blessing. Blessings can be applied to anything—weapons, tools, other humans… even the performer themselves."
Oswin processed this carefully.
The old man smiled. "During battle, no performer will have the liberty to sing. A hymn takes time, after all. A single verse, a delay, a breath out of place—and you could be dead before the words even leave your lips. That is why blessings are used during battle."
For example," the old man continued, "Caro, dear, can manipulate any flesh at will. The cause would be her will, and the effect would be the flesh molding according to her intent. But to have more precise effects, she still needs to sing."
Oswin's face lit up in understanding. He had not previously chosen his second question, but now he knew what he wanted to ask.
"Do these 'blessings' have any limits?"
"Yes, they do," the old man said. "Blessings inflict slightly more spirit influence than a hymn that would achieve the same effect. The spirit influence is inflicted on the object or human that is blessed, and casting a blessing also inflicts a significant amount of spirit influence on the performer. The level of spirit influence depends on the effect of the blessing and its duration."
"That marks the end of two questions. Back to work," remarked Caro.
She then shot a glance at the old man, her lips curling into a slight pout. "Also, did you really have no better examples? Why use mine?"
"It's fun to annoy you," the old man replied with a smirk.
Oswin was genuinely baffled. These two fiends, wielding powers beyond human comprehension, were casually bickering like ordinary people. Were they even human? Caro certainly wasn't.
Caro placed her hand on Oswin's chest once more.
This time, his entire body unraveled.
Not just his skin—his blood, his bones, his muscles—everything broke apart into countless thin threads, twisting and writhing as they drifted into the air. His very being came undone before his eyes. His vision blurred as his eyeballs split into filaments, exposing raw nerves to the open air. His brain was laid bare, his organs exposed, every part of him severed into intricate strands yet still somehow… whole.
He felt everything.
The cold air brushing against his brain, his nerves tingling from sensations that no human was ever meant to feel. He wasn't in pain, but the sheer unnaturalness of it—the overwhelming discomfort—was something far worse. It was wrong. Horrifyingly, indescribably wrong.
He was scared. No, terrified. And despite everything, his mind refused to shut down.
Then, in an instant, the threads wove themselves back together.
Flesh, bone, and blood reknit seamlessly, pulling back into their rightful places. His organs were sealed away once more, his nerves shielded, his body whole.
Oswin staggered slightly, his breath coming in shallow gasps. His hands trembled as he looked down at himself, his fingers curling, testing, making sure he was still—
Still what?
Still himself?
He was still Oswin… right?
Oh.
No, he wasn't.
He was in Fray's body. He was Fray now.
It took him a moment—too long—to register himself as himself. The wrongness of it all clawed at his mind, twisting his thoughts like a sickness. His stomach clenched as the memory of his body unraveling resurfaced. The feeling—exposed nerves, drifting flesh, open brain—it wouldn't leave him.
A wave of nausea overtook him. He lurched forward and vomited, emptying his stomach in an instant.
So his mind still fully registered discomfort. It wasn't filtered away like pain or horror. No, this was something he could still feel, still recall vividly. The lingering sensation of being unmade.
"I think that's enough tests for today," the old man said.
Caro sighed. "Alright. But before we let him go, I want to try something."
She didn't touch him this time. She just… looked.
Oswin barely had time to react before something burst from his shoulders.
Two limbs—long, bloody, skinless—sprouted from his back, raw flesh and exposed muscle twitching as if they had always been there.
Pain flared through his body, but just as quickly, his mind discarded it. Ignored it. He clenched his fists, refusing to acknowledge the burning sensation radiating from his new appendages.
Caro examined her work with satisfaction. "The skin will grow over them in a few days," she said casually, as if this were nothing more than an inconvenience. Then, Caro pointed toward a distant hill.
"Your sister—if they found the settlement of subjects—should be in that way."
Putting emphasis on the 'words your sister' again.