"Nor... Novia... Novia..."
Sion muttered expressionlessly, her violet braided hair swaying in the dim depths of the magical cavern. The way it moved resembled neat geometric figures—precise and controlled. Rather than a person, her presence gave the impression of a humanoid computation system.
"It's just a name," she thought, "so why do I react like this whenever I hear someone called by that name...?"
Unable to pinpoint an answer to the question that had arisen in her heart, Sion instinctively split her cognition into segments to begin internal deliberation.
Split Thought No. 3: Maybe I should restrain him with Ether Lines.
No. 4: I think the way my heart races when I see him is worth a deep investigation. He's premium-grade research material.
No. 5: Why is research material allowed to move around freely? Shouldn't it be locked up in the lab for my exclusive use?
No. 6: ...Why am I the only one who feels like crying?
Within a single second, fierce internal debate erupted in Sion's mind. This was the basic mental technique of Atlas Institute alchemists—developed to compensate for the limitations of working alone. It involved two components: High-Speed Thought and Thought Partitioning. High-Speed Thought meant processing information at a speed far beyond normal humans, while Thought Partitioning allowed the user to divide their cognition into multiple autonomous segments that could simultaneously analyze and discuss a problem.
Alchemists of Atlas were required to maintain at least three partitions—segments that could operate with entirely different perspectives from the original self. And this wasn't just additive thinking; with near-zero latency, every thread of thought could share findings, allowing for multiplicative synergy.
For instance, three partitions meant potentially 3³ = 27 simultaneous modes of thought. With four partitions, that number soared to 4⁴ = 256.
No. 7: I don't care what his name is anymore. Can someone get that Sajo Manaka out of here? Her presence next to him is very annoying. Technically, it's against the rules to use Ether Lines on people, but if I'm not taking her thoughts—just restraining her—it should be fine.
No. 2: But what if we lose? It'd be embarrassing to get countered while making the first move.
No. 7: That's not going to happen. Having thoughts of losing is disgraceful. Our Ether Lines are Tier-1 combat tools. So? What's the consensus?
Nos. 2, 3, 4, 5, 6: Agreed. Since we are of one mind, the derived conclusion is valid.
Sion begrudgingly accepted their conclusion. And so, the alchemical prodigy of the Atlas Institute coldly declared:
"I've determined that there's something on you worth studying. Apologies in advance, I'll make sure to properly compensate you afterward."
She raised her arm, and the fifth imaginary-element Ether Line, measured in microns and connected to the bracelet on her wrist, surged forth like a living organism. The moment the words left her mouth, the Ether Lines lashed out like beasts snapping shut their jaws—the invasion had already begun.
"Put simply, I can't let you escape right now. I need you."
But just as the lines were about to reach him, an unexpected change occurred. The Ether Lines—signature trait of the Eltnam family, one of the Six Origins of Atlas—suddenly halted in midair, just inches away from Novia, as if they no longer obeyed Shion's command.
Standing nearby, Sajo Manaka—who had already prepared a wind spell to blow the lines away—paused with interest. She had clearly noticed how much Sion disliked hearing the name "Novia," to the point of launching an attack. But... why wasn't Novia defending himself? Had he anticipated this outcome from the beginning?
Originally, she'd planned to fake getting wounded while shielding Novia from the attack—a dramatic way to earn some sympathy. But before she could act, Novia turned to her and said not to interfere, no matter what happened.
Naturally, she agreed on the surface—but inwardly, she still planned to intervene. That is, until Novia casually added:
"I think I really like you, Manaka. You always listen to me... I think you'll come to like me more and more too."
...Clutching her chest, suppressing her joy and the upward curl of her lips, the golden-haired girl truly did act in line with his words.
"Why did you stop?"
Novia gently touched the Ether Lines floating before his eyes. His thoughts drifted back two thousand years, to the sunken Library of Alexandria, and to the girl who looked exactly like Sion—Shiali. Together, they had defeated the divine entity Osiris. He remembered playing the villain back then, before they were even friends.
Maybe that's why—even now—he didn't find the invasive Ether Lines all that annoying. Perhaps it was her nature. She was a good person… but not quite "human."
So when he saw Sion's silhouette from behind earlier, it felt like a vision—like that moment he last saw her in Rome.
He remembered the footprints left on the yellow sands of the gravel desert, her figure retreating in the distance as he collapsed into the sea.
In hindsight, the request he gave her back then had been ridiculous—nearly impossible. After all, it was the corpse of Albion, brimming with overwhelming mystery. Its exposure would've caused unimaginable trouble. And yet, she had shouldered that burden without hesitation, despite it being something that wasn't hers to carry.
"You're not dodging…"
Sion clenched her fists. A powerful, unfamiliar emotion burned in her chest. Her body trembled, and she didn't know why.
"Are you really… the original?"
She said the words slowly, one by one. She had already shut down her Thought Partitions. She didn't know why she was saying these things, nor why she couldn't go through with her attack. She could have taken control—just one step closer—but she couldn't move.
No answer came. Maybe the urge to cry had dulled her cognition, because she didn't even react when Novia approached, Ether Line still in hand. She just watched.
"It's because I'm the real one—not an illusion—that I don't dodge. That's only natural.
Also, I should be calling you Sion now, not Shiali, right?"
Novia reached out and wiped away tears that even Sion herself hadn't realized were falling. In the gloom of the magical cavern, brilliant gem-like drops glistened—unfit for this kind of reunion, and yet unmistakably real.
"I've always wanted to thank you. And I am grateful.
But that can wait. What I should say now is—"
"If you've got the time… come keep me company, will you?"
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