Benjamin grasped her neck, forced her to the wall, and gazed at her emotionless, confused face. Celeste remembered it as if it were yesterday, and this face was always hideous and foolish like today. The memory cemented that in her spirit. She had no guilt about this whatsoever, but back then?

  Younger Celeste wasn't sure what to make of this, and the grip was real, choking the life out of her little body, a feeling King had described as brittle yet light. It was her light... it was her darkness. She was living in it. breathing and living for it.

  Now, Celeste was more mature and believed she would have fought back by herself and dealt with this invader. Back then, she thought this was a monster, and monsters didn't attack her over nothing, nor ever came closer to this cave. She tried to scream, but the sound was stifled when Benjamin got even closer and punished her.

  “Do you understand my words?! Why do you struggle? Why are you making this difficult? You think I want this? DO YOU DARE to question my methods... this world is wicked... and this is no world. We are all just....”

  She couldn't answer as she shook and began to deliriously mumble nonsensical prayers and words that he took for disturbing news.

  “Oh, she is stupid. So much for the Holy Lands, eh? Seriously. What are the Darks thinking? Nothing. They are stupid. Now, how to take that crystal home?” he thought out loud, almost scoffing and laughing at his own words, and glanced back at that glinting shine. He choked her enough for her limbs to drop and her face to swell. Victory was guaranteed, so Benjamin turned away, looking at that crystal in reverence while Celeste was dying.

  She detested this memory. It didn't fade away or change, either, or perhaps she didn't try enough. She always remembered this part because that's where the fun began. She started to play the games better.

  A voice shouted through this memory.

  “No!” Celeste tried to protest, but when the light flashed, and a head rolled around the cave, she drowned in numb feelings again and fell to the ground, bathed in blood, numbness, and an echo that made her glad.

  It was unfortunate that Benjamin never took her seriously, nor saw that glittering Emblem as one hell of a dangerous signal. Or perhaps he did. Celeste hoped he did.

  The voices assured her, but Celeste took it worse. She tried to speak, but the pain in reality was much more intense as the memory concluded, but that head was still dangling on the ground, right beside the chair. Blood followed, backed by the dense blackness and white glimmer.

  

  Celeste wasn't sure what they, or this, meant. It was with her for so long; what was the point of taking it for granted, taking, or earning? When was it right or wrong? Never. She knew she was never just one or the other, since there were no losers—just winners.

  From the outside perspective, things moved smoothly. Too smoothly, to be exact. Hough was tapping his fingers on the monitor, and a few minutes had gone by since that dark storm formed. Nothing changed about Celeste, and that Emblem's unnerving flow of the Awakening hadn't shown too much cracking either. It was the body that did, but that was fine. He expected it.

  By now, multiple conclusions and obvious signs have shown outstanding results. Hough said them out loud.

  “Force and Shadow? Dual elements, yes? It's a strange duality, yet in what strength is the other, or is it the perfect harmony, or just one of the same? Questions, yet Emblems are great. Name proving. How curious indeed.”

  Hough was aware, yet did not fuck with the secrets anymore. There was time for that, and not today. Sure, Rank 8 Walkers were masters of their Emblems and far greater in terms of direct experience, but research and watching them were part of Hough's life. He saw them the same as anything, and they saw him as a worthy old demon who was worse than any Dark.

  But some of them were close to Hough, so he knew things that not many lower-ranked Walkers would ever know.

  Seeing Celeste do pretty well for herself, things might get interesting very fast, so he tensed and forced the other Butlers to do their work, even though one seemed enough in his opinion.

  It was a good call because things in her memories were too stable, and her Emblem was getting high on that nice, juicy liquid. It wanted to know. It needed to be remembered. It had already done so, but Hough didn't know that, or what Celeste was feeling or doing to it.

  Hough still wondered what this girl experienced, or what her Emblem was sharing. It was all connected, and this duality wasn't within his usual expertise. Force was nice, but Shadow? This didn't feel like one, but that must be because Force was not exactly subtle or dark. It tended to be formless, leaning into the blue, invisible hues, or white subtly. So yes, this made sense and forced him to hold his ideals dozens of knots tighter until doubts spread, and he started to smile involuntarily.

  The body was the odd one of the bunch.

  Grinding sounds echoed, screams dulled because of the shadows, and whatever went on in that light or flesh, the scene was about to change.

  The Emblem in Celeste's hand let out a chilling scream, like metal grinding and breaking, accompanied by a darkening light. As the shadows turned into light, the turning caught everyone present off guard. The flow of very dense Arcana cut in, and it fully escaped from her Emblem in only one way it knew. Allways.

  It wasn't about escaping. It was more like seeking an answer, perfection, or something different, or passable. Perhaps it already knew everything and was looking for a way in, as the outside world was no longer a concern. It needed a face. It had to find a way to do it when the outside was not feasible but devious.

  It was like an explosion of light and shadows, yet neither went too far away because of the ten barriers surrounding her.

  “What is it?” one Butler said.

  “It is getting tougher.”

  “Shadows and Force knitted together. One of the same, they charge and change. What a peculiar duo. To see these elements come together in such a seamless fashion is fresh,” Hough said aside, knowing a part of the truth with his keen sight.

  Looking at the monitors, his smile grew next while the Butlers performed their duties.

  “Worry this old man less, little treasure. Already past 50 Affinity? Good. Very good. Keep going, rumbling and growing!” Hough cheered as he watched the monitor with unblinking eyes, and occasionally glanced at the chair, which was no longer visible.

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  Celeste lost her memories by now, swaying in her chains, body twisted in pain and wounds, because her skin couldn't keep up with the Force and the Shadows. It broke countless times, but it also improved over time. It didn't die. It wanted her to be perfect.

  A lot of the surrounding Arcana came at her, stabbed her, and wounded her. It was like a trial. A test, a , yet her Emblem continued releasing its reserves and touched her, going through her, while she never got too out of touch. Her body healed, then cracked again, and the liquids had yet to stop. She lived on over and over again, rejuvenated and broken, and better.

  Celeste couldn't do anything. A helpless feeling pained her numbness, giving her less strength when awareness of it hit her like that startling scream. She was back in a bunker, yet she was talking to someone, or someone was coming back?

  

  “You... You stab me,” she stated in her Shadow mixed Force, where no one could hear her at the moment.

  

  

  “You... Who are you? I was... dull. Dumb. Nervous. Young.”

  

  Then the voice paused, and Celeste felt as if this genuine voice would never return, which evoked a deep sense of panic and sadness. She felt this feeling very often, for that voice was like a friend and a monster she both feared and respected, and she wanted to know it more. Many unkempt thoughts flooded her mind, coming to her like old recollections, pressure, and things she had long wished to learn or keep in the dark.

  “You there?” she asked. “I don't know. I don't know anything. Who are you? Where are we?”

  She was getting sad, yet no tears would come. Instead, there was blood coming from her eyes and white holes within. She embraced nothing but the pain next, trying to understand it.

  She felt her arm on the chair, mangled but churning with energy, so she tried to gather her strength, fight the energy, and break free. It was strong. The pain snapped her deeper, yet she wasn't going anywhere.

  She began the game of endurance and hope, waiting for that voice to return, or for memories to calm her, yet the Mindless Eyes began to show their strength next and barraged her mind further... and further. But that's the thing. It was mindless... and she used to be thoughtless.

  More minutes passed, with Arcana flowing much more like a storm that couldn't stop or decide where to go. It was a bit unusual for this to go for so long, but Hough wasn't in a hurry, even if the schedule was quite tight. In the end, every freaking host was deserving of nothing but perfection, and so was he. Hough was unwilling to make compromises, and others should adjust to it instead. He was fine with it.

  Around the ninth minute, liquids stopped, and the syringe shot out of her arm, half broken at its tip as if chewed, and stayed inside the barrier. Then, her Arcana changed its forceful routes, moving around her whole body like some big storming lines. Shadows and Forced were interchangeable, looking bright yet dark, while the Arcana began its final transformation.

  Celeste was gritting her teeth even more and felt her body grow, compress, and transform. The pain intensified tenfold, yet she didn't feel like screaming anymore. At some point, it turned irrelevant. Nothing.

  “No. I wanted this... Dreadus said it. William... spoke to me. Pain... gone. Like memories and my past self,” she muttered, ignoring her cracked lips, limping consciousness, and mind that seemed tranquil, yet very loud.

  A pair of shining eyes glanced from the storm, apparent to Hough, Butlers, and Walkers behind the mirror.

  All of a sudden, a piercing scream shook the room, manifesting something in the storm where lines began to crack, hit one another, and flow into Celeste. She couldn't contain herself anymore. Nothing could. Her whole body convulsed and trembled, and she escaped when those lines cut around her, a storm hit her, and the chair didn't escape unscathed.

  Half of the barriers turned to dust in seconds, with more to follow if not for Butler's timely efforts.

  Arcana beamed in a single motion, tensing and creating deep, white lines of nearly a dozen feet around the barriers. There was a sudden silence as if the storm stopped, revealing Celeste standing before the chair, bleeding from hundreds of cuts in her visible skin, and she was almost falling to her knees.

  No one stopped her or came to her aid. Hough was no longer aware of what was happening to her. She got free, but that was clearly improbable?! His hands and mouth stopped working as he stared at the taller girl wrestling with those energies and absolutely living her best life!

  Celeste waved her hand, and the around her changed in their core, becoming denser, and ditching Shadows and Force into less of a storm. A long mixture of each element slashed forth, cracking the remaining barriers, going forward and cruising around the ground by her motion, and like tides, and... light, it cut.

  In a flash, many long cracks and slices erupted on the concrete floor, almost reaching those sick, fucked up mirrors. It looked as if a long sword cleaved forward, and it was true.

  After the slashes of her storming conclusions, Celeste held onto a long white sword. It shimmered in its form, pushing away the Shadow elsewhere, towards her body, and forming cool patterns around her legs and below her feet. It felt tight, hugging her, and letting her know there was a place to stand and hide.

  Then there was her sword, which was moving as if it were alive, keeping her up, bleeding, and pale. Her right arm held onto it, connecting Emblem and the rest together while Arcana, now turned into fine Vectors akin to millions of little lines, lingered and yet finished the final shape.

  Shadows moved around her feet like water, flying and coming into Force and her Emblem, so it was connected. Hough saw it enough, yet the sword was not it.

  Everything had ties.

  Celeste watched them as if she weren't a part of her body. She was delirious, handling something she had never had, yet imagined to have, and her eyes gleamed forth, looking like hundreds of cut wounds in their depth. Unfortunate as it was, her clothes turned into rags alongside her energy and flesh. She was buried under her Vector Shadows when her Force came more than the rest, and then... remixed, then shattered again. It was a strange harmony, or an attempt at one.

  Such were the storms of the Awakening.

  In the end, she realized she was the singer, as well as a quite delightful instrument.

  “T-this... Is the end? Magnificent!” Hough pulled his shit together, put the knob back in place, yet it did nothing but stop the machines from going overboard because this host was no longer attached to anything man-made.

  Celeste's twisted body was still standing and almost floating when the process was over, and her Rank 1 was hers and hers alone. Force was soothing, becoming less free and more in line with the proper sequences.

  Breaking it was a terrible idea, so Force and Shadows returned to her, dimming and giving her strength to remain in her body; yet her mind remained unsafe.

  A few moments into this homecoming, she dropped to the chair with no strength left, leaving her greatsword pouring back to her changed Emblem like thousands of droplets of pure, white water.

  Her Emblem seemed more refined, with stable, dense length and similar width, but the flow was more precise in activity, and distinct lines of Shadows were still in the corners, yet cutting inside more than ever before. White was the core, like a small sun that was dimming the further it went. It was weirder than that, or like a way too narrow eye, perhaps? Shard. Sword?

  Hough watched her as if she were a ghost. That sword. That monitor?! He wanted to seize them and see their truths, but he had seen enough.

  Laughing next, he lost his shits.“What a Madness! Subject 70 is crazy! Crazy! Aha!”

  He could have approached her, given there were no barriers left, yet he didn't. He gazed at a monitor from an inch away, at a singular, maddening number: 99.

  “Are my eyes stupid?!” He asked himself, but there was no one to help him with this answer because he wasn't looking for one.

  Butlers felt ashamed that they had failed, as if they had been slapped and moved back into the shadows. Hough turned back to Celeste and recognized his mishaps.

  Clearing his thoughts, he snapped his finger. “Subject 70 is unable to stand up. Get a stretcher or something and get me another host!” Hough shouted, yet no one was around for that.

  It was Dreadus who came over, grabbed Celeste when her Emblem calmed down, fully seethed, and no energy was left out, and her body became limp as she fell into familiar, pleasant, senseless sleep.

  Hough pretended everything was fine, but it wasn't. The syringe got damaged, the chair needed repairs, and he wasn't even sure where those wires disappeared into. What about the liquid? What of the sheer madness in it?! Where was all the blood? At least the cuts lingered in the thin layers of Force, and her wounds were visibly healing.

  Hough was unable to stop or act when Dreadus fled with Celeste and Hound, hurrying to the doctors, and leaving Hough alone beside the Accelerator. liquids decreased by dozens of percent. The damage wasn't even that big of a deal when Hough came to one sense, and then the other.

  “Calculate... calculate, Hough! This is big news! Big! Marvelous! A world in its glint, in grasp of us!” His insanity was that. He lost it a long time ago.