Chapter 130: Undercurrents

The sound of a pen tip rapidly scratching across paper reverberated continuously in the confined room. Normally, such a faint sound would be hard to hear, but it was clear and distinct in the extreme silence of the room.

Curtains were drawn over the windows, allowing only a sliver of sunlight to penetrate into the room and casting its entire interior in dim light.

The surface of the wooden desk was cluttered with various drafts filled with patterns, symbols, and text, deliberately categorized despite their seemingly haphazard placement. However, due to the sheer volume of material and its obscure contents, the desk looked overwhelmingly chaotic at first glance.

“Dammit, dammit, it shouldn’t be like this. The results are different each time I try to scry. How’s that possible? Even if I made a mistake, it’s impossible to be wrong and have different results each time.”

Charles frantically threw the pen in his hand toward the corner of the table as he pulled on his curly hair in frustration, making it even more disheveled.

“How can this be? Our house’s ability certainly can’t predict the future fully, but it’s easy enough to see images and gather information to deduce the future. But the result’s different each time, and none of it’s any good!”

Charles’s brows furrowed tightly. Continuous failure had left him extremely irritable. He downed the water in the wooden cup on the table in one gulp as his simmering anger subsided slightly.

“Calm down, calm down. Charles, you’re a genius. If you pull this off, you’ll really have a life of wealth and glory, right? Well, maybe. Anyway, try again.”

Taking a deep breath to suppress his frustration, Charles picked up the drafts on the table and went through them one by one. Each calculation seemed correct. His somewhat unreliable ability allowed for limited prognostication, his supernatural insight linking disparate pieces of information.

But why did all the futures seem so bleak? Though everything tended to be rather vague, after all these years, Charles could lift the veils a little, as it were. From every piece of information he extrapolated, one unshakable truth emerged: Aleisterre was doomed. But how could that be?

“It can’t be. The calculations are correct, so why are my intermediate results all off? They all point to this conclusion. Charles, believe in yourself. Believe in yourself! If you’re not mistaken, then something abnormal must be going on.

He rapped himself hard on the head, as if to shake off his own self-doubt. Charles was convinced that his deductions were correct—if his ability wasn’t malfunctioning, at least.

“There must be some external interference. External…? No way!” Shock momentarily overtook his features. He began rapidly pacing around the room in disbelief, lost in thought.

“One, is that you? It must be you, One! No one else would interfere with my calculations,” Charles began abruptly. His uncertain tone quickly resolved into certainty. He scanned the room.

[I didn’t expect you to figure it out so quickly. Long time no see, Charles.]

Charles quickly noticed something unusual. On the dusty dressing mirror that he had hardly used or cleaned over the years, a line of faint black text was appearing.

Charles let out a sigh of relief, glad that he hadn’t been shouting like a madman in an empty room for nothing. At the same time, confusion and a hint of anger welled up in his heart.

“It has been a long time. Why are you interfering with my calculations? All these results are terrible!”

[I’ll be abrupt, Charles. Please stop trying to get involved in Aleisterre’s affairs. What you’re seeing is only a small part of the picture. The war between Selwyn and Aleisterre is largely just what’s happening on the surface. Many entities are meddling in Aleisterre, including my siblings.]

“Huh? Really? But I still don’t want to give up. If I can glimpse the future, how can I not try to change it? Even if you won’t help me, One, at least refrain from interfering with my calculations.”

[Your glimpses into the future can’t change anything. There are too many schemes at play. No matter what you do at this point, the outcome may not change. Other forces will subtly interfere and steer things back on track.]

“Was Aunt Pernia guided by one of your siblings? The outcome of the events didn’t match what I saw, and it certainly didn’t align with what they wanted. My prophecy and involvement changed the outcome, didn’t it? I’m trying to do the same thing now.”

[That’s part of what I wanted to bring up. You need to stay away from your companion, Wang Yu.]

“Why?” Charles was taken aback.

[It’s likely that his involvement, not yours, was what tipped the scales. All the threads of fate surrounding this guy are fragmented. It’s as if he appeared out of thin air. Either he’s something more advanced than us, or someone is interfering with him.]

“What? I trust you, One, but I also trust Wang Yu. If what you’re saying is true, doesn’t that mean that I should help Wang Yu change whatever outcome I foresee?”

[I knew you’d come to that conclusion. Despite the fact that he’s a “variable,” he’s still far too weak. There are already forces targeting and laying traps for him, traps he seems completely unaware of. If you attempt to affect fate through him, the most likely outcome is that you’ll also be dragged into the whirlpool of schemes yourself.]

“Damn it—you’re saying the outcome is already predetermined? Aleisterre is doomed? Can’t you at least tell me what could possibly destroy Aleisterre? It’s a kingdom, One!”

[I’m sorry, but there’s very little I can do. I can only shield you from the coming chaos. Aleisterre is but a single vertex of change. The true nexus lies elsewhere.]

“Even if you say that, I won’t give up. When I was a child, we changed fate together. That’s why I ended up feeling so out of place. How can you tell me to give up now? We’ve already proven that ‘fate’ can be changed. I refuse to believe otherwise.”

In frustration, Charles slammed his fist on the table, causing the cup to jump and nearly fall off the edge. He fumbled to catch it, splashing some water on his sleeve. After placing the cup back on the table, Charles fell silent.

The entire room was enveloped in eerie stillness.

For a while, no more text appeared on the mirror.

The sound of a pen scratching against paper resumed, still clear and distinct in the quiet room. Charles’s murmurs blended with the sound of the paper.

“Wang Yu once mentioned his understanding of fate to me. It’s a sandbox. Under certain conditions, in a specific environment, as long as you know all relevant parameters, you can predict the future. In reality, it’s almost impossible to gather all the necessary information.

“My consciousness certainly can’t. Perhaps yours can get close. But there’s at least one entity that captures it all—the void. Every change in the material world is observed and recorded by the void. By wielding this information, we can indeed predict the future under certain conditions.

“And while the void seems superior to the material world, while wizards seem to be able to toy with the material world, both worlds are actually on equal footing.

“The relationship between the material world and the void has always been mutual. Otherwise, the entities the Nightblades deal with would already have broken out and destroyed everything in the material world.

“Just like you, One—your observations of the material world through the lens of the void aren’t flawless. Changing things in the material world can definitely affect the void in turn. The future you claim to be set in stone can absolutely be altered. Just like in the past, I’ll never give up.

“Change, just a little change, is possible.” Charles’s words echoed in the room. His silence wasn’t one of resignation but deep contemplation. As he muttered his thoughts aloud, he buried himself in the pile of drafts on the table, searching for a way to break the confluence of fate.

“Very well. Your attitude is the same as ever. I suppose there’s little I can do. Much of what you said is correct, though some is completely wrong. But since you’ve chosen to make a stand, I’ll lend you a hand.”

A soft voice reached Charles’s ears. He paused, surprised. Even after all these years, it still sounded the same, despite the fact that his own voice had changed.

“Thank you.” Charles smiled even as he focused intently on his analysis.

“No problem.”

The sound of pen scratching against paper reverberated once more.

Long moments later, Charles put down his pen and looked at the results before him. His eyes flashed. It was unbelievable. His ability could only predict a small fragment of what was to come. The forces involved beyond that were completely beyond his capabilities. Some players on the field were far beyond his ability to comprehend.

But even the events he had foreseen in the near future were enough to leave Charles feeling deeply unsettled and horrified.

“Is it still worth it to you? The most likely outcome is that your efforts will ultimately be meaningless.”

“The enlightened are forever blessed!” Charles suddenly spoke in a strange tone while striking an odd pose. [1]

“How was that? Pretty cool, right? I learned it from that guy you told me to stay away from.”

“…No, it was annoying. For some reason, I feel like punching you.”

“Damn it, you just don’t appreciate it. That line makes so much sense. At least now I’m fully prepared.” Charles sat back down and visualized the events that were likely to unfold.

“Wang Yu, I hope you’re as reliable as ever. Otherwise, all my efforts will be wasted…” he muttered.

“…Are you ready? Then I’ll use my power to erase part of your memory and the memories of the upcoming actions you’ve charted for yourself.”

“Is erasing my memories enough? The impact of my actions can still be observed and calculated, can’t they?”

“If I want to remain hidden, I can only use my power on your soul. As for everything else, didn’t you devote yourself to the deity your archbishop friend serves? That ‘deity’ is truly too merciful.”

“Oh, I see. She truly is generous.”

“Then I’ll start the wipe.”

“Hold on.”

“What now?”

“Don’t you think our heroic, last-ditch effort is super cool? Just like my pose and line earlier, right? I think we should give this operation a name!”

“…” The disembodied voice seemed utterly speechless.

“Say something!”

“Fine. What do you want to call it?” the voice reluctantly responded, its previously serious tone now tinged with embarrassment.

“Let’s call it ‘Undercurrents.’ Because…” Charles began to explain why he had chosen such a perfect name, but a hand pressed against his forehead before he could start rambling.

“Shut up, you idiot.”

“Ah!” Charles suddenly jerked his head up from where it had been resting on the desk. He glanced out the window—the sun had set, and the world outside was shrouded in darkness.

“Huh? Did I oversleep? How did it get so dark already?” He looked around in confusion, only to notice his secret diary lying open on the table.

“Ah, where’d this come from? I can’t let anyone see it! Was I drunk or something? Damn it, why does my head feel so foggy?”

He hurriedly stuffed the diary back under the bed, then patted his groggy head and checked his pockets.

“Huh? Why is one of my tarot cards missing?” He frowned. These spellcasting materials weren’t something he could afford to lose. This meant… what did it mean again?

“Ugh, why does my whole body hurt? I feel as exhausted as that time I ran all afternoon. Damn it, I just woke up. Why do I already want to get back to sleep…?”

For some reason, the tension Charles had felt earlier abruptly faded and was replaced by an overwhelming sense of fatigue that swept through his mind. That, combined with his physical weakness, made him collapse onto the bed as his eyelids grew heavier and heavier.

In the hazy space between sleep and wakefulness, Charles’s lips moved slightly. “Undercurrents… heh…”

1. A Jojo reference. ☜

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