I Was Not!

The air underground was indeed very cold, dominated by the scent of rust, waste, and something fundamentally old, the mineral smell of exposed stone. The cavern fell silent again after the soundless scream of the Essence creature vanished. The indigo mist that had formed its shape had receded, meaning it was absorbed back into the crack within the purplish stone. Residual energy remained in the air.

Welt remained seated, calming his previously shallow breath. His palm, where the unknown symbol had briefly glowed, suddenly felt numb. He did not understand what had just happened. The word Trogool slipped from his lips almost instinctively, and he could interpret it as a key that unlocked a power not his own. It was not part of the Bizarre Dao of the Outers. He did not know whether it was related to the star-crowned entity in his dreams.

The nadir circuits within his body, previously in pain from the infiltration of Void Essence, slowly began to emit faint flickers of light that he could see and feel. The residual energy from the destroyed creature had not vanished and was instead being absorbed by his circuits. The process was far from gentle, as it felt like swallowing sand, and the grains scratched as they descended, yet eventually fused to strengthen his foundation. The Bizarre Dao of the Outers, in this respect, was inherently predatory.

He knew he could not remain here. This place had given him progress while also revealing dangers he had never anticipated.

With great effort, Welt stood. His muscles now resisted, clearly due to the depletion of his physical energy. He relit the dim lantern and began retracing the narrow path through the underground corridors. The oppressive pressure that had once filled the air was now greatly reduced.

The return journey through the sewer took longer than Welt had anticipated. He walked, and in the darkness, his steps seemed deliberately heavier, and Welt kept stopping at every junction because he was tired and heard strange noises. He might have drawn the attention of similar creatures after killing one.

Water dripped from rusted pipes above. The lantern's flame flickered as its fuel was nearly spent, and shadows continued to dance across the brick walls under faint light. Welt adapted to the situation by conserving fuel. Running out of light in this place would be a serious problem for him.

He reached the sealed iron gate just as dawn broke on the surface. Light crept through the cracks, marking the arrival of morning in Clockthon. He slipped out, returning to the deserted streets of the Factory District. His body was now thoroughly filthy, his clothes tattered.

The sounds of the waking city began to rise, the distant whistle of factories, the footsteps of early workers heading for their shifts, the rhythmic hum of steam engines igniting for the workday.

Books alone were not enough. Cultivating alone in the sewers was too slow and far too dangerous. I need access to structured knowledge, stable resources, and most importantly, he desperately needed a disguise. An identity that would not draw unwanted attention.

An Academy! It was the only logical step. There, he could study this world systematically while hiding the true nature of his power in plain sight. Of course, he would need to craft a persona with a rare enough specialisation to be valued, but not so strange as to invite undue scrutiny. Oneiromancer, dream seer. That sounded fitting…

He started walking back toward the Docks District, each step deliberate. A plan was taking shape in his mind, rough around the edges, but solid enough. Clean himself up first, get some decent clothes. Then figure out which Academy would serve his purposes best. And somehow, somehow he'd need to forge a talent for Oneiromancy.

The streets were not yet completely crowded, although he could see curtains moving in the windows as early risers began their daily activities. Some vendors had already started working, skillfully cleaning up the remnants of yesterday's trash from in front of their shops, a task they were clearly accustomed to. The warm scent of freshly baked bread wafted from a nearby bakery, suddenly making his empty stomach growl with hunger.

But when he rounded the corner into what should have been an empty alley, he stopped dead. Someone was there, blocking his way entirely. A girl, late teens, maybe, with long brown hair pulled back in a no-nonsense knot. Everything about her screamed efficiency, from her rigid posture to the dark gray uniform decorated with thin bronze tubes that ran along her arms. And in her hand, aimed straight at his chest, was a revolver. Not just any revolver, this one was a work of art, its cylinder covered in symbols he'd never seen before.

"Don't move," she said, her voice flat and slightly rough from the morning chill. No warmth, no hesitation. Pure command. "Children don't play in quarantine zones."

Welt kept his mouth shut. His mind was already working, cataloging details with that cold precision that had kept him alive this long. Her uniform wasn't City Police, definitely not Order of Essence Wardens either. The symbol etched into her weapon's grip caught his attention, a toothed eye inside a hexagon. Completely unfamiliar, some third faction he'd never encountered.

"This area is closed," she continued, those eyes taking inventory of every detail, the grime, the torn clothes, the bone-deep exhaustion written across his face. "No entry or exit without authorization. Explain your presence."

Welt slipped into the mask he'd perfected over years of survival, the confused, frightened child. It fit like a second skin. "I got lost. I was just looking for somewhere to sleep."

She didn't buy it. Not even a flicker of sympathy crossed her features. Her breathing stayed steady, controlled. "Unlikely. Alternate hypothesis: you're a low-grade artifact thief using a child disguise. Or, you're a Doppelkin."

Doppelkin… He'd never heard the term before, but context suggested shapeshifter. He filed it away for later consideration.

"I don't know what a Doppelkin is," Welt said, letting his voice shake just enough to sell the act. "I swear, I'm just human."

"Verification required," she replied without lowering the weapon. Morning light caught the metal of her revolver, highlighting intricate engravings along the barrel that spoke of serious craftsmanship. "Remain still. No sudden movements."

She approached with the careful steps of someone who'd done this before, maintaining distance while keeping the pistol trained on him. From a belt pouch, she produced a small device, looks like a metal disc about the size of a coin with a crystal lens at its center. She aimed it at him like a second weapon. The lens pulsed once with pale blue light, then went dark.

"Thermal signature positive. Essence signature negative, with anomalous residue," she muttered, apparently reporting to someone who wasn't there. "Subject most likely human. But the residue is abnormal."

The gun stayed exactly where it was. "You will stay here until my captain arrives for secondary verification."

Welt just nodded. Fighting would be pointless, she was clearly trained, and her organization had the technology to detect whatever strangeness clung to him. A confrontation would reveal far more about his abilities than he could afford to show.

So they waited. The silence stretched between them like a held breath. Welt settled onto the dirty ground, back against the brick wall. He didn't fidget or try to look nervous and just observed. He watched how she stood, perfectly balanced, ready to move in any direction at a moment's notice. How her eyes never stopped scanning their surroundings, never lingering on one spot too long. This wasn't some common guarda and was a SOLDIER.

Her breath created small clouds in the cool morning air. Every so often, she'd glance at a timepiece strapped to her wrist, but never for more than a heartbeat. Her discipline was genuinely impressive.

After what felt like an eternity, Welt broke the silence. "Are you military?"

"We are the Division of Abnormal Phenomena Investigation," she said curtly. "Fravikveidimadr."

The name was a mouthful, Nordic, possibly. An organization that dealt with "abnormal phenomena," which meant they operated beyond the usual scope of the Essence Wardens who typically handled Evolvers. Specialists. This was definitely problematic.

"Why are you interested in old sewers?" Welt asked, trying to sound like a curious child fishing for information.

"Unclassified Essence activity reports. That's enough questions." Her tone slammed the door shut on any further conversation.

Welt went quiet again. He studied her uniform, noting the quality fabric and precision tailoring. This wasn't standard military issue, certainly, it was custom work. "My parents used to work at the factory nearby," he said after a while, making it sound like an offhand comment.

The girl glanced at him briefly. "Used to?"

"They're no longer relevant factors."

No apology, no sympathy. Just a slight nod as she processed the information, then back to her vigilant watch. That reaction told him everything about her professionalism. She wasn't interested in sob stories, only facts and potential threats.

Ten minutes passed slowly before heavy footsteps announced someone's arrival. A tall man with green eyes and shoulder-length blond hair appeared at the entrance of the alley. In his mid-forties, he had a stern face and a thin scar running across his left eyebrow. He wore the same uniform as the girl, but with a captain's insignia on his collar, a silver raven with outstretched wings. As he stepped into the alley, the atmosphere changed instantly.

"Report, Lieutenant Rash," he said, those green eyes immediately fixing on Welt with laser focus.

"Captain Verneth. Subject found exiting the quarantine zone at approximately 0647 hours. Male, estimated age ten to twelve. Preliminary test indicates subject is human, but with unidentifiable Essence residue. Subject claims to be lost."

Captain Verneth studied Welt like he was trying to see through flesh and bone to something hidden underneath. "Name, boy?"

"Welt Rothes."

"Welt Rothes," the captain repeated slowly, testing how it sounded on his tongue. He stepped closer, boots clicking against cobblestones. "I need to perform a tactile verification. Don't move."

He knelt in front of Welt, but instead of reaching for his hand or shoulder, he placed two fingers gently on Welt's forehead, just above the eyebrows. His touch was surprisingly warm against the morning chill.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then Captain Verneth's eyes widened, not showing obvious surprise, but a subtle change betrayed his shock. His whole body tensed, and he pulled his hand back as if he had touched something hot. When he looked at Welt again, everything was different, and he immediately treated Welt as a strange person, perhaps?

"Captain?" Lieutenant Rash asked, clearly sensing her superior's sudden change in demeanor.

Dales Verneth didn't answer right away. He stared at the empty air above Welt's head for a long moment, as if seeing something invisible floating there. "Lieutenant, secure the perimeter. No one comes within fifty meters of this location."

"Yes, Captain." Though obviously confused, Rash obeyed without hesitation. She moved quickly to the alley's end, pulling out a small communication device and speaking into it in hushed, urgent tones.

Dales turned his attention back to Welt, his voice now softer, filled with seriousness. "What I see… is clearly not potential, let alone a guardian spirit or hidden talent. Because I hear a drumbeat. Silence, with the relentless echo of a single drumbeat reverberating through the stillness." He paused for a moment, studying Welt's face intently. "Who are you, really, Welt Rothes?"

"An orphan from the Slum District," Welt replied, keeping his mask firmly in place. He knew the captain had glimpsed some fragment of what the star-eyed entity had left behind in him.

"A good lie," Dales said, getting to his feet slowly. "But still a lie. The void doesn't choose orphans at random." He brushed dust from his uniform with deliberate care.

"You're coming with us. That's no longer a request."

Welt had no real choice in the matter. Two other Fravikveidimadr agents appeared within minutes, forming a loose but effective formation around them. They did not handcuff him or treat him roughly, though their presence was as confining as iron bars. They took him to a steam-powered armored vehicle parked on the main road, its dark metal body reflecting the morning sunlight.

The interior of the vehicle was highly functional, with metal benches, no windows in the rear compartment, and the constant vibration of the steam engine. The air was filled with the smell of oil and hot metal, making every breath feel slightly metallic for anyone breathing inside.

The journey proceeded in total silence. Welt sat on his metal bench while Dales and Rash occupied the benches across from him. No one spoke, but he could feel their eyes constantly observing him, analyzing, measuring, and trying to solve the puzzle he carried. Welt used the time to observe his captors. Dales sat with the relaxed confidence of someone who had been giving orders for years, while Rash maintained perfect military posture, her hands never far from her weapon.

Through the vibrations of the vehicle, Welt could feel the city passing by outside. The rhythm of the wheels changed as they moved from rough cobblestone streets to smoother asphalt roads, heading toward one of the more affluent districts.

The vehicle finally came to a stop inside a spacious enclosed space. As the rear door opened, a vast underground garage came into view, clean and sterile, illuminated by blinding electric lights. The air carried the scent of metallic earth. They led him through a corridor painted in institutional white, illuminated by Essence lights that didn't flicker and cast no shadows at all. There were doors made of thick steel, and armed guards stood at every intersection like silent sentinels.

They took him to a room that looked like an interrogation room, but was far more advanced than anything he had ever seen before. The room contained only a metal table and two chairs, both bolted directly to the floor. One entire wall was a mirror, its surface reflecting the sterile light of the room back at them.

"Wait here," Dales said before he and Rash left, the door closing tightly behind them with a heavy mechanical clang.

Welt found himself alone. He sat upright with his hands folded in his lap, making no attempt to escape or check the walls for weaknesses. There was nothing worth finding, and he knew full well that spies were watching him through the mirror. This was the first test to see how he would cope with isolation and psychological pressure.

The chair was designed to be uncomfortable, triggering anxiety in most subjects. The room temperature was set slightly too cold, another small torment for both mind and body. Absolute silence, except for the soft whispers of the ventilation system.

Nearly an hour had passed.

The Fravikveidimadr organization was an unexpected complication in his meticulous plan. They specialized in the "abnormal," and he, with his Bizarre Dao of the Outers and his mysterious connection to the star-crowned entity, was the embodiment of abnormality. They wouldn't let him go so easily.

He needed to control the story they were telling about him. Provide an explanation that satisfied their curiosity without revealing anything truly dangerous. The Oneiromancer persona he had planned might work perfectly here. It would explain the "drumbeat" Dales had felt, that a child who accidentally touched the dream realm might encounter an astral entity. Rare enough to catch their attention, but not entirely beyond their understanding of how the world works.

The door opened with a heavy mechanical sound. Dales Verneth entered alone, carrying a thin tablet made of obsidian, which he placed carefully on the table between them.

"We checked the civil records," Dales said conversationally, settling into his chair with practiced ease. "No birth certificate, no residency documentation, no school enrollment for any 'Welt Rothes.' You're a complete ghost in the system, as expected."

Welt maintained his silence, letting the statement hang in the air.

"We also analyzed the remaining Essence on your clothes and skin," Dales continued in a relaxed yet alert tone. "It matches perfectly with the energy signature of the entity we call the 'Dweller Below,' the creature we've been hunting for three years. Corrosive and deadly. It has killed three of our investigation teams." He leaned forward slightly. "But this morning, its energy signature suddenly vanished from our monitoring equipment. And you were there, unharmed, standing exactly where it disappeared. Help me connect the dots, Welt."

Dales sat back in his chair, his green eyes never leaving Welt's face. "How could a child with no official existence and no detectable personal Essence survive an encounter with something that has killed trained agents? How did he appear exactly where our most dangerous quarantine target vanished?"

This was the moment. The moment that would determine whether he faced further investigation, permanent imprisonment, or something far worse.

"It didn't attack me," Welt said softly, letting a faint tremor creep into his voice. "And for some reason, it spoke to me. Showing me things, like images in my mind."

"What kind of images?" Dales asked, leaning forward with genuine interest.

"Dead stars float in empty space. Then suddenly there is a throne made of black stone, but no one is sitting on it. A crown made of evil and darkness from a distant land," replied Welt, combining images from his recurring dreams with fragments of his experiences meeting the star-crowned entity. Truth and lies, intertwined to the point where even he himself was unsure where one ended and the other began. "Then it vanished instantly. I thought maybe I was dreaming, but I was definitely awake."

Dales fell silent for a long moment, his finger tapping once on the table as he processed what he had heard. The explanation was fantastical, of course, but it aligned with what he sensed from the boy.

"Oneiric experiences," Dales finally said, testing the theory aloud. "You claim some sort of affinity with the dream realm? A natural oneiromancer?"

"I don't know what that means," Welt replied with skilled ignorance. "I just sometimes see things when I sleep. And sometimes those things turn out to be real afterward."

Dales nodded slowly, the pieces of the puzzle beginning to fit together in his mind. "Untrained dream visions. That must explain the sign I saw earlier, you're touching the space between conscious reality." He stood up, his decision made. "We have the right way to test such claims."

He walked to the door, then stopped with his hand on the handle. "You'll stay here for now, Welt. We'll provide food, clothing, and a bed. In exchange, you'll cooperate with our research. Consider it mutually beneficial, you get security and education, we get information that's quite important."

His hand was already turning the handle when he turned back once more. "Welcome to Raven's Nest, Welt Rothes. I hope you find your stay enlightening."