Gaius felt a pang of pity hit him when he looked at the little boy.

“If the gemstone that contains the other bits of his soul is expended a few months down the road, he will recover,” Weiwu said. “But the improvement in your Orb’s technology means that more and more footsoldiers are using gemstone-powered artefacts, which are often unused for months on end when their users fall in battle. The chances of fragmented souls entering these virtual worlds will therefore go up.”

“And you haven’t thought of a solution to this?” Gaius asked.

“I just awakened. This was a last-resort measure that they” —he pointed up— “came up with, right before they devolved into the Crying Abyss. I’ve already implemented an interim measure, but you don’t happen to have a solution, do you?”

“Is that also in my job scope?” Gaius asked, a small smile on his face. “I’ll have an eternity to think about it.”

Opening the door to his home, he beckoned the old man and the young boy into his home. The officials of 2558 had helped him stock up on some daily necessities like food. Although normal food had little use when it came to restoring soulforce, simply sprinkling an energy salt over a dish was enough to give it that particular function.

It didn’t take long for him to prepare some stew over a stove. The technological level — for lack of a better word — of Cybral was close to that of Earth’s, to the point that the boy had the nagging feeling that a few otherworlders from the twentieth or the twenty-first century had shown up here before.

He voiced that doubt out loud a moment later.

“There isn’t,” Weiwu replied. “As far as I know, which isn’t much.”

“Should have prompted Isabelle a lot earlier, eh?” Gaius shook his head. “Who knew that waking you up from your slumber just needed someone to think extra hard?”

“You make it sound easy,” the great god replied. “For the natives of Orb, simply thinking about the divine, especially designated secrets by the other great gods, is enough to cause pain and elicit fear.”

“Never heard of that.”

“If you did, that person who told you would be one capable of conquering their darkest self. It’s also a secret that when thought about, would inflict pain,” Weiwu added. “I too have created restrictions like this.”

“You? What restrictions did you create?”

Gaius watched Weiwu pat the little boy’s head. The child, who was one of those souls with a damaged self-image, made a happy little noise, and Gaius smiled involuntarily.

“Restrictions that inhibit the understanding of why energy, when channelled in a particular way, produce certain effects,” he replied.

Gaius blinked twice, and then understanding began to dawn. “You mean…sigils? Artificing?”

“That’s what you call them, yes,” Weiwu replied. “But there are some secrets that you should unravel for yourself. It’ll be no fun if I were to tell you directly.”

He eyed the great god, and then returning to chopping up some onions. It would seem that food was a uniform constant in all worlds…but since he only had a sample size of three worlds, Gaius could be wrong. He was beginning to feel some interest in learning more about such a phenomenon, though. After all, most cuisines on Orb were wholesale imported from Earth, so…

If I solve this Crying Abyss problem, can I travel to other worlds? Gaius shook his head, and then scattered the chopped onions into his bubbling stew. After dicing some meat, he covered the pot and set the stove to low heat, before returning to the table.

His mood had taken a turn for the worse, though. Remembering Isabelle’s words whenever she caught him cooking had brought a smile to his face, although Gaius knew full well that they were filled with sadness. True, he would be here for a year, but from the sounds of it, a lot more time would have passed outside.

Wrenching his thoughts away, he turned to Weiwu and the kid, who were playing a round of draughts, or checkers, as known in America. Gaius didn’t know where that came from, but since a great god was in the picture, anything was possible. He watched the two as they played; draughts was simple enough that learning the rules within a minute was possible, and then turned back to his stew.

“How many days have passed, back in…my Orb?” Gaius asked.

“I believe it should be six days,” the great god replied. “Time is really nothing to me. Months can pass by when I’m trying to pick up the traces of spectres that had escaped while I was in a deep slumber.”

“Did you never wake up at all?” Gaius asked.

“Once in a while, whenever a Paragon got close to the truth of this world. The process of becoming a Demigod is one that makes everyone watch,” Weiwu replied. “Being adorned by the trust of the masses, or breaking free from the restraints of the great gods…either event is one that makes people watch.”

The boy hissed lightly. The Chanter of Innocents had just revealed the path of becoming a Demigod. Although that knowledge was not useful to him, the great god before him was one that watched over the cultivation system of Orb.

“How about the Reckoning?” Gaius asked.

“Like the others, it is an automated process, set up by the Crying Abyss in its final moments of clarity. I cannot interfere in it, unfortunately.” The great god shook his head. “If I could remove the influence of my progenitors from it, I would already have done so. If I did, however, there would be a lot more Paragons running around. I’m not sure if that’s a good idea. I’m quite a good substitute, though.”

“Substitute?”

“Most people, however, make their vows in front of me, even though I’m asleep. It is a good thing for them, though; the sleeping me is the only lucid outlet in which they can make their vows in front of safely.”

Hammers began to pound the inwards of his skull, and Gaius let out a groan.

“Oh dear. It seems that even with this paltry knowledge, your soul cannot take it yet,” said the Chanter of Innocents. “Don’t worry. You’ll grow stronger over time, now that you’re connected to the Crying Abyss. Just don’t be influenced by it.”

The old god smiled, his eyes alight with some odd emotion.