The mysterious man sat upon his throne of pure silver lined with faint veins of gold. He watched the ritualists wash their faces, chant in various tones, and move about the white, flower-filled room. Before long, a look of boredom crept onto his face. Growing weary of their cleansing rituals, he turned his head away.
As he did so, his gaze fell upon El, who stood on the altar with his hands clasped behind his back.
The mysterious man leaned forward in sudden shock, wondering how El had arrived and how long he had been there.
El had been standing there for the past ten minutes, his eyes fixed on the mysterious man, studying his reactions and movements.
It was dull.
Completely dull.
From morning until night, the man would sit upon his throne, letting his gaze wander across the flowered chamber in search of something interesting. Nothing ever satisfied his boredom.
At one point, before El had joined the Descent of the god's domain, the mysterious man had ordered that a group of ritualists be sent to the chamber each day to perform cleansing rituals in hopes of easing his restlessness. It worked only briefly.
Even the Man himself had to visit from time to time, keeping him company to ensure he did not succumb to boredom. Why?
Because that was his flaw.
And El knew it. That was why he had remained on the altar for the past ten minutes, silently observing the mysterious man's behaviour.
It is quite tragic to possess such a flaw. If you sleep, you die. If you fall asleep from boredom, you also die, El thought with quiet sympathy, shaking his head slightly.
"How long have you been there? And how come I didn't notice you?" the mysterious man asked, leaning back and composing himself.
"I've been here for the past ten minutes," El replied, smiling warmly at him. "As for how you didn't notice me, think of it as a skill issue."
The mysterious man shook his head, amused, then began to speak.
"Considering you've just joined us, you have already begun to understand your marks, your talent, and your power."
El nodded.
"Out of all the things you awakened, which one do you think is the greatest?" the mysterious man asked, his tone casual, probing.
"Hm. It really depends, doesn't it?"
"No. It really doesn't," the mysterious man replied coldly.
"The marks of divinity can be forcefully removed by the very divinity of the Beings. It is a risky process, one that may result in the death of the one who attempts it."
"Your titles can be rebuked. If you fail to live up to them, they become unjustified. They are temporary. A rich man may be rich today and bear that title, but tomorrow he may lose everything and bear the title of poor."
His gaze sharpened.
"The only things one awakens that endure are the path, the class, the talent, the power, and the flaw."
El paused, then sat upon the altar, intrigued. Knowledge never came without weight, but it was rarely offered twice.
"The path," the mysterious man continued, "is the way of life, the journey itself. If you walk the path of transcendence, then at the end you become transcendent. But once you reach the destination, you are fixed there. Even if you attain enlightenment, you remain in the middle of eternity."
The silence thickened.
"I am sure you are wondering why you cannot simply take another path."
He did not smile.
"You must undergo a reset. In other words, reincarnation or transmigration. When one reincarnates, the body, the physique, and the origin they are born with generate their path. Without these, one becomes pathless."
His voice lowered.
"And those who become pathless turn into mysterious beasts. Their suffering is eternal. Their might is immense."
"When you are reincarnated, you receive a new soul, physique, origin, and mind. These generate a new path. That is why, once someone completes their path, they may choose a reset."
A faint pause.
"But that is rare. Only twelve men have ever completed their path."
"What about Talent and class?" El asked.
"Well talent is the natural ability of an individual. It is the core ability of the soul, and also the easiest thing to do. Take for example, if I have the talent of writing books, then that's my natural ability but also the core ability of the soul which makes writing books the easiest thing for me to do."
"A class is a contract with a law of the universe. A warrior class is not just someone who fights. It is someone whose existence has been recognised by the Law of conflict. A seer class is not just someone who predicts, it is someone whose soul has been acknowledged by the Law of foresight.
A Class is what determines what forces what respond to you, the events that fate has organised for you. It determines what growth patterns are accessible, what thresholds you can cross.
For example, someone with the class of the apostle will inevitably be pulled toward: Revelation, Trial, Sacrifice and Divine proximity. Think of the class as a story blueprint embedded into the soul.
And think of the soul as raw energy.
A class is the structure placed around that energy. Without a class: power leaks, growth is chaotic, and identity is unstable. With a class: power channels correctly, evolutions become inevitable, and you are most likely to learn a concept."
El raised his hand.
"Can a class evolve? Are they fixed? Can they mutate? Can classes merge? Can someone hold multiple classes?"
"Hahaha!" The mysterious man laughed loudly at the questions. After a few seconds, the laughter faded, replaced by cold silence.
"Out of those questions, I can answer only three."
"Alright. Fair enough," El replied calmly.
"A class can evolve and become a concept."
"A class can mutate if the individual is pathless."
"Yes, someone can hold more than one class at once. However, only ten people have ever achieved that. Four were able to hold more than three classes, and only one succeeded in evolving his class into a concept."
El was about to raise his hand again when the man cut him off.
"That is enough questions for today. I am certain you did not come here merely to learn old knowledge. What is it? Speak."
"Call the man," El commanded, rising to his feet and fixing the mysterious man with a cold, indifferent gaze.
Though the mysterious man wanted to retort, to ask why, he could not. It was as if every fibre and muscle in his body refused to obey him. His mind scattered and rearranged itself, aligning perfectly with El's command.
It's as if my whole body isn't listening to me! the mysterious man thought frailly, struggling to resist. But it was hopeless. His body, mind, and soul had completely surrendered to El's will.
At once, the mysterious man waved his hand, and immediately, the driver appeared.
"What does the ruler call me for?" the driver asked humbly, bowing before the mysterious man with his back to El.
Then he noticed a silent aura radiating from the mysterious man. Panic gripped him. Has he fallen asleep? Or worse… has he died?
When someone radiates an aura of silence, it usually signals death: the soul has ceased, the body has ended, the mind has fractured.
In a frenzy, the driver rushed to the mysterious man's side, desperately trying to rouse him. No matter how many times he nudged, shook, or pleaded, the man would not awaken. Salty rivers of tears streamed down the driver's cheeks as he sobbed, refusing to let go.
"My Lord… Wake up… Please…"
El, growing tired of this display, finally spoke.
"Now that he is dead, don't you want to become the next mysterious man?" His voice was low and grave, like thunder buried within a coffin of clouds.
The driver slowly turned toward the sound. To his shock, he saw El standing silently on the altar, expression cold and indifferent.
"What did you just say?" the driver asked, his brow tightening, sorrow etched into his rough, strained voice from earlier cries.
"You heard me," El replied, unbothered by the driver's grief.
After a moment, the driver wiped his tears, composed himself, and redirected his attention fully to El.
"Explain."