Chapter 176: Revelation

It’s night here.

That was Finn’s first thought as he emerged on the other side. It was fully dark, with stars like dots overhead. Their dim light filtered through the forest canopy, making what would have been pure darkness to have some level of illumination.

The next thing he noticed immediately was the temperature. It was chilly here. A stark contrast to the desert’s brutal heat that he had gotten used to.

We’re definitely on the other side of the world, he realized. Or at least very far from where we were. It was still mid-day there…

The spatial tunnel closed behind him with a soft whomp, leaving them in a small clearing.

Finn turned and noticed more illumination coming from a campfire.

And sitting on a log beside that fire, watching them with pensive, calculating eyes that looked out of place for a body that appeared twelve years old, was Casmir.

Alone.

The Space bearer’s gaze swept across them as they emerged. Thalia. Finn. Himothy. He assessed each Transcendent carefully and very vigilantly.

Then his eyes landed on Yara, still carrying Ailin’s wrapped form.

Casmir’s expression immediately flickered. He did a double-take, as if he hadn’t recognized Ailin at first, but then finally did after noticing some of her features more carefully.

Genuine shock replaced his usual analytical detachment as he stared at Ailin’s condition for a long moment before releasing a slow breath and looking at Thalia.

“Well,” Casmir said quietly, his voice carrying that peculiar adult quality despite his childlike appearance. “This means it won’t be hard to convince you to abort mission.”

There was no greeting or useless formalities despite the fact he hadn’t seen any of them for a while. Camsir simply went straight-to-the-point, delivering his tactical assessment.

Not surprising,

Finn mused detachedly as he scanned the surroundings.

Thalia crossed to a log opposite Casmir and sat heavily with clear exhaustion in her movement. “Oh yeah? Why did you think I’d decline?”

Casmir’s eyes remained on Ailin as Yara laid the Memory bearer down carefully while the others found places to sit around the fire.

“Because aborting poses greater risk than staying and observing,” Casmir explained. “The only exit point, the active breach we came through, is in a location so dangerous and so heavily fortified, well protected by what I’ve learned to call Gods, that I thought you’d choose to remain. Wait for a better opportunity rather than attempt a suicide run that will surely kill some of us.”

His gaze finally shifted from Ailin to Thalia.

“But now, looking at your condition. At her condition.” He nodded toward the Memory bearer. “I’m not so sure about my assessment anymore.”

He looked at each of them in turn — Deacon’s bloodshot eyes, Himothy’s uncharacteristic subdued demeanor, the way they all carried themselves with the weariness of a traumatic encounter.

His gaze lingered on Finn slightly longer than the others, and Finn felt spatial awareness sweep over him, analyzing.

Casmir then turned his gaze to Thalia.

“What happened?”

.

.

.

They told him everything.

The desert settlement. The Guardian’s death at Himothy’s hands. Finn’s divine gambit. The battle with Solarius. The Champion’s attempt to summon the Radiant One. The interrogation. Ailin’s memory dive.

And finally, the Great One’s gaze.

Casmir listened without interruption, but his face grew progressively more serious as the narrative unfolded.

When they finished, he sat in silence for a long moment, staring into the fire.

“You achieved divinity,” he finally said, looking at Finn. “That’s… unprecedented.”

“It didn’t matter,” Finn said dully. “In the end it didn’t matter.”

“No, it didn’t.” Casmir agreed. “But that doesn’t make the achievement less significant.”

He turned to Thalia. “Your decision — Finn and Deacon’s decision to engage rather than observe. It was risky. Catastrophically so, given the outcome.”

Finn tensed, expecting condemnation.

“But,” Casmir continued, “if what you’ve theorized is correct, that the mana leakage is a false flag, that there’s something else these Gods want from our world, then engaging was strategically sound. In fact it was the correct choice.”

He looked at Deacon. “You saw something. A truth you can’t speak.”

Deacon nodded minutely.

“And you helped Finn pursue divine power because of what you saw.”

Another nod.

“Then your gambit, risky as it was, probably revealed more about divine mechanics and this world’s power structure in a few days than months of passive observation would have.”

Casmir’s expression was grim but analytical. “The cost was high. Too high. But the information gained might justify it if we survive to use it.”

Finn’s shoulders relaxed slightly. He knew this didn’t absolve them of their failure and the repercussions. But it was nice to receive acknowledgment that his choices — their choices, however disastrous, had strategic merit.

“What about our world?” Thalia asked. “What’s happened while we’ve been here?”

Casmir’s face darkened.

“Chaos,” he said simply. “The first few days after your entry were… hectic doesn’t capture it. There was a sporadic burst of chaos breaches all over the world. The only saving grace was that they were normal breaches. But their numbers were overwhelming. Tens at first, then hundreds. As if the veil between planes suddenly grew weaker.”

“How is that possible?” Yara asked.

“The scholars have a theory,” Casmir said. “They think our plane, our entire reality, is simply evolving. We exist in a void, and as we move through it, we brush against other planes. Sometimes those contacts create friction. Breaches. Leakage.”

He poked the fire with a stick, watching sparks rise.

“They found an old record. Pre-civilization text in the earliest discovered human language. It described… beings descending from the sky. Touching humans with ’blessings’ that gave them the capability to become more.”

“Gods?” Deacon breathed.

“Maybe,” Casmir said. “Or Transcendents from another plane. Or something else entirely. The scholars always thought that text was mistranslation or mythology. But now, with everything that’s happening…”

“You think this has happened before,” Finn said slowly. “That cyclically, our plane passes through this stage, contacts other realities, and things… change?”

“It’s a theory,” Casmir confirmed. “Unprovable currently. But it fits the reality we’re seeing.”

Finn frowned. “But what about what we already know about Transcendents? Breaches opened, yes. But our world created us. Independently. Without external intervention. That’s a fact. We emerged naturally from mana evolution, not from divine interference or anything like that.”

Casmir looked at him with those unsettlingly adult eyes.

“Are you sure about that?”

Silence fell around the fire.

“What do you mean?” Thalia asked carefully.

“How do you know,” Casmir said slowly, “that Transcendents weren’t seeded by external forces? That we’re truly native to our plane rather than… introduced. Cultivated.”

Finn’s mind raced as he considered Casmir’s words. Looking at it from that angle, his original soul was from Earth, a different plane, a different reality entirely. Casmir’s idea didn’t seem too far-fetched then.

But then Arros had been awakening before Finn’s consciousness arrived from the future. Arros had already shown signs of Error manifestation during that fever, before the transmigration.

It didn’t check out. Arros was native. His power was native.

“It’s a mystery,” Thalia said firmly, cutting off the line of speculation as each Transcendent fell into deep thought. “One we’re not equipped to solve right now. There are more pressing matters.”

“Agreed,” Casmir said. But his eyes lingered on Finn for a moment longer, as if seeing something he hadn’t noticed before.

“There’s more,” the Space bearer continued. “After the initial burst, the sporadic breaches stopped. Five days ago, in our time. Everything went silent. Not a single breach for days.”

“And then a new breach opened. Just one small breach.” He paused meaningfully. “But it was different from anything we’d ever seen before.”

“Different how?” Deacon asked.

“The energy,” Casmir said. “Nothing works on it. My space magic can’t affect it. Other Transcendents’ concepts slide off like water on glass. All standard methods of mana manipulation, conceptual forcing, even brute physical interaction… they all proved completely ineffective. If you don’t try hard, you can’t even tell it’s there.”

“Divine power?” Himothy suggested.

“I thought so initially,” Casmir admitted. “But now that I’ve entered this world and witnessed actual divinity…” He shook his head. “No. This breach isn’t divine either. It’s something else. Something that makes mana itself seem… incompatible.”

Finn’s heart began to race. A breach that rejected standard magic. That couldn’t be affected by Transcendent concepts. That operated on a level mana couldn’t affect…

Soul-based?

Finn thought, barely breathing.

A true breach? The kind I’m used to? An actual tear between planes that only a high soul density can access and influence…?

Finn fought to keep his face straight as the thoughts roiled in his head.

Is our world about to enter into the age of Ossuarists…?

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