[Transcendence (2/2)]

Claude returned to his house, the heavy wooden door creaking slightly as he locked it behind him. The dimness of the interior swallowed him whole, with only faint traces of sunlight bleeding through the edges of the blinds. The conversations he had overheard earlier lingered in his mind. 'Experiments. Plague Bearers. The Brotherhood...'

Disregarding the pair of apprentices arguing about the ethics of Elysium, Claude was all but certain that the apprentice that the others had mentioned getting ambushed was him.

'I mean...' He mused. 'A Mage Apprentice in Marduk getting ambushed by Plague Bearers?'

The description could not be any more familiar to him. After all, that was exactly what happened to him. "But... I did not expect word to spread like that." He muttered. "It seems that this was by no means a common event." And, then there was The Brotherhood. Claude paced slowly, his footsteps muffled by the thick rug beneath him.

Snippets of memory surfaced in his mind—from that book he had read earlier. The Brotherhood of Silence. It was a cult that venerated the Void Lord. Unlike the Church of Nox, the Brotherhood remained an active presence on the continent of Arta. Still, Claude could not help but wonder who those people were referring to in their conversations.

Who had joined The Brotherhood?

And why did they seem to care so much?

Claude sighed quietly as he went to the small office at the back of the house. The room greeted him like an old friend: cluttered yet familiar, its shadows pooling in the corners. However, his thoughts refused to quiet, circling back to the Brotherhood.

'I just hope whatever they're planning doesn't come to affect me...' He settled into his worn leather chair, lighting the candle on his desk.

Littorbourg had been different—he hadn't been able to stand idly by, not when their meddling threatened his own life. But now? This wasn't his battle. He had far more pressing pursuits than chasing after some cultists.

As he leaned back, the chair groaned softly beneath his weight. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm.

'There is no point in stalling...' His eyes drifted closed, shutting out the flickers of the candle. For a moment, the silence grew heavier.

But Claude welcomed it, sinking deeper into the quiet. Only the soft cadence of his breathing remained, occasionally disrupting the silence of the room.

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As Claude opened his eyes, the familiar confines of his office were gone. In their place stretched a vast, pitch-black expanse, an infinite void that seemed to swallow all sense of space and time. Claude recognized this place instantly.

He had visited this realm once when he had begun his journey as a mage. But, after poring through various books in Elysium, he had managed to place a name to it.

The Soul Sea.

It was an abstract realm, hidden deep within the minds of all sentient beings. For most, it remained an untouched mystery, but to mages, it was the key to their power—where their mental energy took form and could be manipulated.

A single thought from Claude sent a ripple through the void. In response, a stream of silvery light surged toward him from the distance, its brilliance cutting through the darkness.

The light stopped just before him, its soft glow illuminating the surrounding expanse. It oscillated gently like a flowing stream.

It was no longer the small, thread-like entity he had once seen. Now, it had grown into something far more—a surging river. Writhing and twisting in the void like a living, breathing creature. Its length dwarfed him.

If placed back in Littorbourg, it could stretch across half the city. The river's width was also nothing to scoff at, in Claude's estimations, three of him could fit between it.

'It's reached the threshold...' He pondered. From the information he gathered, he knew what this writhing and twisting meant. When an apprentice's mental energy reached a threshold, it would trigger a transformation—a metamorphosis. One that marks the transition from Mage Apprentice to Official Mage.

'It's time.' With a thought, he stilled the river before him. The energy hesitated for a moment, then obeyed, becoming unnaturally calm.

Then, without warning, it began to pulse—expanding and contracting, back and forth in an unrelenting rhythm.

Time seemed to lose all meaning as Claude observed the process. The silver stream morphed ceaselessly, its shape-shifting with each pulse. The transformation had begun. The Soul Sea Claude possessed, like that of all apprentices, was merely a prototype of sorts. Mighty, yet ultimately incomplete.

The true Soul Sea referred to the culmination of this current transformation, when the mental energy expanded, condensed, and ultimately transcended its primitive state. Claude watched, unblinking, as the stream of energy continued to evolve, the void around him trembling with anticipation.

Whizz!

The stream of mental energy spiralled upward, a brilliant silver arc splitting the infinite void above Claude. Its radiance illuminated the darkness of the abstract expanse that was his Soul Sea.

Claude observed silently. His mental energy wavered and twisted, flickering between its gaseous state and something denser.

Soon, a faint hum resonated in the expanse, the soundless vibration spreading through the void and settling in his consciousness. Claude felt the strain—not in his body but in his mind. It began as a low, dull ache—a pressure pressing against the edges of his consciousness. But soon, it grew fiercer, like a thousand needles piercing through the fabric of his soul.

Claude clutched his immaterial palms, his form trembling as the pain escalated, becoming a jagged storm that tore at him. Time soon unravelled into a meaningless thread for him, the pain so all-encompassing that it blotted out every coherent thought.

The sensation was unlike anything he had ever endured—a searing, unrelenting agony that twisted and stretched his consciousness as though it were being wrenched apart strand by strand. It was as if molten iron was being poured into his skull, the heat creeping outward and setting his entire being aflame.

Before he could even comprehend this torment, it began to spread. The venomous tide surged outward, tainting every corner of his existence. Transcending the confines of the Soul Sea.

Claude's actual body, in the real world, convulsed. His nerves screamed as if they were being torched by an illusory flame, his muscles locking tight before spasming violently. 

However, the stream above him suddenly began to collapse inward, folding and twisting into itself, serving to distract him from the pain.

'It's happening...' he thought, fighting the pain, his mind tightening around the energy to maintain its shape—preventing its collapse. The silver stream condensed rapidly, shrinking into a sphere of pulsating light.

Its glow grew blinding, yet Claude's mind could not turn away from the sight. The sphere's brilliance was all-encompassing, illuminating even the farthest reaches of the Soul Sea.

The pressure once again mounted, and an invisible storm brewed within the confines of his mind. Claude's thoughts wavered, struggling to stay steady. Now, it was no longer pain he was suffering. 

The sharp, searing agony that had torn through him moments ago began to dull. Instead, it felt like an immovable mountain was resting atop his skull, crushing his every flickering thought.

But he pressed on. He could see it. The end of this torturous process. Cracks soon began to appear in the sphere, fine lines of light spidering across its surface. 

Crack!

The sphere ruptured, like shattered glass, its contents spilling forth in every direction. Countless tendrils of liquid silver light arced through the void, surging like streams of water escaping a shattered dam.

The energy surged outward, flowing together in chaotic patterns before settling into a shimmering expanse. Claude's awareness expanded, reaching out to encompass the entire Soul Sea as calm finally pervaded the space.

Before him stretched a vast, glimmering lake of silver light. Its surface was smooth and calm, radiating a brilliant glow. Claude's palms unclenched, his focus easing slightly as he took in the sight.

The transformation was complete.

Claude reached out with his consciousness, brushing against the lake's surface. The energy responded immediately, rippling outward as if acknowledging his presence. It was no longer the flimsy, gas-like stream he had once nurtured—it was a sea. Deep and vast.

This was the Soul Sea of an Official Mage.