"Are you sure about this?" Lyra asked, taking another peek past the curtains.

  The loud chattering of the crowd was impossible to ignore. I didn't blame them. The opportunity of seeing a god with their own eyes was unheard of. Although not everyone was convinced, with the sword saints stamp of approval, words of the Wandering God holding a sermons had travelled far and wide. From what one of the archangels told Lyra, a strange girl had tried talking to the head librarian of the royal library of Boreas, killing him in the process. That could only be the System Manipulator. Words of the sermon should have reached them, and now they had to make use of this opportunity.

  "I am sure." I fastened the helmet on and checked the rest of the armour. Dragonsteel. Light as a feather, and painted with the glittering paste of concentrated divine essence. This disguise did look convincing. "If I act as the bait, then we will be able to lure them out."

  She nodded. "If you say so."

  Taking a deep breath, I moved the curtains aside and walked into the balcony. Before me was an enormous crowd covering every nock and cranny of the plaza. The moment I came into sight, the crowd turned silent. I did not bother with any theatrics. After arriving to this world I had taken the class of sharpshooter and quickly worked my way to level 50 past the levelling cap. With [far sight] and [perfect precision] my eyes shifted between the different faces. Something that had become apparent from all of their different encounters with the System Manipulator was that their enemies appearance did not change. Nonchalantly standing at the back of the crowd was a young girl. The same young girl that I remembered.

  "Lyra. There she is. Tell—." Blood gushed out of my mouth. My vision blurred as I looked down. A lance had penetrated my chest, painting the surroundings in my own blood.

  Gasping for air, I turned around to see Luther smirking. Lyra stood there with a horrified expression, the blue circle of a binding skill surrounding her.

  "You shouldn't have tried cosplaying a hero," Luther said, and pulled the lance out of me.

  I collapsed on the ground, holding on to my stomach, and panting. Not a single coherent thought, only the pain consumed me as the world started to darken.

  A loud crash echoed and Lyra appeared kneeling on top of me. "Rachel, hang in there!" She stretched out her hand, creating a strong white glow. "Heal for heavens sake!" The brightness intensified, but the pain was still there. "Come on, come on. Why can't I heal when it matters?" The bright light disappeared and I could feel tears trickling down on my face. Healing was never Lyra's strong suit. " Archangel, please help me! I will do anything!"

  Perfect. Everything had gone according to plan.

  - Rachel, the twice summoned

  "Please! I am not a Morphling!"

  The woman glared at Tom. "There is no use lying. One bullet from this gun, made specifically to deal with the likes of you, is all that it would take."

  "What if I prove it to you?"

  She raised an eyebrow. "Really? Well, fine then. Become water."

  He stared at her. "You want me to … become water?"

  Lowering the gun, she took a step closer to him. "You can use my aura if you need to. Just focus on becoming water."

  He had no idea what she was talking about. Becoming water? That did not make sense. But with no choice, he closed his eyes and tried to sense her aura. It was a cloud, as auras always were. Around it, compressing it to a smaller size than his own, were four translucent rings. She was definitely an observer, one that had reached their Breakthrough stage at that.The only thing out of place was the color of the aura. It had the same hint of blue as water, although the intensity of the color was a bit off.

  Looking at his own aura, it was a cloud of multiple colors. Using [blend] the cloud moved and changed colors, but it wasn't a single color as the woman's aura. Also focusing on her aura, he tried doing the same technique he had done to Morpheus by mixing the colors and stabilizing them with his own. "[Mirror]." Nothing happened. Her aura must already be averaged out.

  "Close," the woman said. "Try doing it more times."

  Following her suggestion he repeatedly used [Mirror] whilst blending his own aura. Nothing happened to her aura, but his own aura gradually started to compress and shifted into a more bluish-color palette. Before he knew it, his aura had become completely blue. Immediately he felt a strange feeling. As if his entire body could fall down into liquid form at any moment.

  Opening his eyes he was relieved to see his body in solid form. "Did I do it? Am I … water?"

  She smiled and put her gun in her holster. "Congratulation. You have now become water."

  A sigh of relief spread across the crowd as they unloaded their guns and went their way. A few curious spectators did stay putting their guns on a nearby table.

  "But that doesn't make sense. How can we be water? Aren't spirits and auras supposed to reflect reality? We both still look human."

  One of the bystandards, the girl that had brought him here, raised her hand and waved it. "Oh, can I answer, Miss Hilda? Please?"

  More hands were raised by the people around, each of them looking at the woman in front of him. Tom quickly took a look at their auras, and all of them had average-looking auras as an observer would. However, the amount of rings around their auras varied. Some of them had three rings, others two rings like himself, and a few had none at all. What he was sure of was that the woman in front, Hilda, was the most proficient observer.

  Hilda nodded at the girl. With a disappointed grunt, the rest of them put down their hands.

  "Why does Mirabell always get to answer the cool questions?" A boy around her age asked.

  A girl nodded. "Yeah, she was the one who brought him here too!"

  "Now, now. She raised her hands first, and don't worry; I am sure there would be plenty of more interesting discussions for us to have. Now, Mirabella?"

  She nodded and walked forward. "Reality. Purpose. Ideal. That is the nature of spirits. However, someone's authority doesn't always translate into the real world. Authority is not deterministic, but the sum of an auras authority is. Since Miss Hilda's and lord Rossi's current form is deterministic, both in their own and others' frame of reference, it does not change. But technically speaking, since the aura reflects that of water, they have become water."

  "… Excuse me?"

  Miss Hilda scratched her face. "Let me try and explain. We all have an aura, the clothes of one's soul, and it gradually fills up with the authority of nearby spirits. The types of authorities that are easier to absorb depend on one's compatibilities with different spirits, you know that much right?"

  Tom nodded.

  "But the nature of spirits is complex. They can represent reality, but a different shade could represent a purpose or ideal. Technically speaking, someone who has a high compatibility with water spirits, due to their persona being close to the ideals most common with water as an aspect of nature, are part water if you compare with a water spirit. The difference between us and spirits is that our auras act as containers, with our soul representing our being instead. In contrast, a spirit is only an aura filled with a specific authority that manifests into reality."

  "So, since our auras have the same authority as water, we are water, but because we are human that doesn't alter our physical shape?"

  She nodded. "Correct. The reason I asked you to become water is to check if you were the Morphling or not. That creature, proficient in changing the colors of its aura, is an oddity due to the fact that the makeup of its aura reflects into reality. If you were the Morphling, your body would have turned into water."

  "I think I get it now. And if I didn't manage to mirror your aura, which I presume you are doing yourself, you all would have killed me — the presumed Morphling."

  She shrugged. "Maybe? These guns are a prototype so we aren't completely sure they would do anything against an actual Morphling yet. I just wanted to make sure since we could make use of your help, and because of that whisper."

  "Whisper?"

  She pointed at Lil Bin who was tucked inside his pocket. The little teddy bear waved its arm. "That must be where it is coming from. Due to passing the Breakthrough stage and unlocking the fourth ring, I can hear the whispers of existence. I am not perfect at it, but I do hear a faint purpose asking to be merged."

  "Oh." So this was all Lil Bin's fault. Using [Mirror] he pulled them out of his pocket to let them be merged into his hand instead. Then he brought Lil Bin closer to Miss Hilda. "This is the great error beast Morpheus true form."

  The onlookers gasped whilst Miss Hilda herself stayed silent.

  "That cute teddy bear is the true form of Morpheus?" Mirabella asked. "Can I—?"

  The observers beside her ran past. "Not a change. I want to see it first."

  "H-Hey! Not fair."

  Five observers stood in front of Tom and stared at Lil Bin, with Mirabelle running behind. They all had their eyes closed and looked like they were in deep focus.

  "I do sense a weird combination, and a feeling of merging," one of them finally said.

  Another observer, a young boy, sighed. "I don't sense anything."

  Tom could still remember how troublesome it had been learning to observe auras in the beginning. "You can hold it if that makes it easier?"

  His eyes widened. "I can?"

  Detaching Lil Bin from his hand, he put them inside the young observer's hands.

  "Cool. I think I sense the purpose."

  Tom looked at Hilda. "So, what did you need my help with?"

  "Learning the state of the South, of course."

  It was the South again. Looked like he had to make up something to keep his identity.

  "How is the war going? We cannot keep the mana poisoning at bay forever."

  Wait, did she say war? There was a war going on? And mana poisoning—.

  "Agh! Help us!"

  He turned to see all the observers stuck to Lil Brin, trying to pull their hands away from the entangled mess.

  "It won't let us go," Mirabelle yelped.

  Another observer grunted. "It hurts."

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  Sighing, Tom put a hand on Lil Bin and unmerged them all. Then he carefully tucked him back into his pocket.

  Hilda stared. "Intriguing. How did you do that?"

  Tom shrugged. "I am not sure how it works, but if I mirror my own aura onto Lil Bi — I mean, Morpheus, his body detaches."

  "Must be the frame of reference. The error beasts truly are something. A shame it isn't my chosen field of study."

  "Frame of reference?" He repeated.

  She hesitated. "Now, how do I explain this one — have you ever heard of something called quantum mechanics?"

  "I do know the basics." Why was she suddenly talking about physics? "It is a theory explaining the smalles scales of reality, where all probable states are described by a wave function that collapses into a single definite state after … being measured by an observer." His eyes widened. "Hold on, isn't that similar to what we are doing?"

  She nodded. "Our world is fundamentally probabilistic. We make our choices as observers in whatever path we choose, and the collective choices create what is known as the arrow of time. But that isn't the only way to describe reality. General relativity helps with larger scales, but a fundamental aspect of this theory is that the laws of physics hold in each their own frame of reference. Us observers resonate especially well with the will of the world, and can interact with the spirit's frame of reference." She pointed at Lil Bin. "It can stick on to us, even though we are observers because it stubbornly keeps to its own purpose. By effect, it drags us away from the average frame of reference to its own. By mirroring your own aura, the different frames of reference sort of have a tug of war, with the dominant reality we inhabit ultimately winning; meaning the frame of reference where multiple auras cannot be merged."

  That — it made sense. Somehow. Even if this world actually was that messed up, the laws of physics should still make sense. But he had never heard of being able to observe spirits back on Earth. Although, he did remember learning that the universe was so vast and complex that different places in the universe could have their own laws of physics, even though the basics would stay the same — also this literally was an isekai world so it wasn't that strange. If that were the case, finding his way back to Earth must be an impossible task. What part of the universe could this planet even be in?

  "Let us continue our conversation elsewhere. The kids still need to finish their batch of Cleaners."

  The other observers sighed and made their way further back into the room.

  Hilda gestured for him to follow and led him to a door at the back of the room. After some turns they arrived at a large cave with a spiral staircase in the centre. Bulbs of light hung on the ceiling, floors covered by planks, and all around were people working. Rows of tables with observers making different inventions. On the side were bookshelves with people peacefully reading.

  "Welcome to the Assembly Room. Here we make the Cleaners His Majesty orders, and do a bit of research of our own."

  "And Cleaners are—?"

  "Inventions that help avoid mana poisoning," she finished. "A crucial safety measure for humanity to survive. Hopefully a temporary one. The amount of working demon horns is declining, so hopefully that dumb invasion the high priest is planning could slightly reduce our workload — enough to give us a vacation one of these days."

  At the back of the door, past a well-guarded iron door, was a small secluded office. In the center of the room was a long table with chairs around. A lone woman, wearing a cloak, was already seated, waiting for them. Hilda took her place at the head of the table and gestured to her right. "This is Shalana. Other than me, she is the only one granted the title of head researcher."

  The woman took off her hood, revealing blonde hair and pointy ears.

  Tom gasped. "An elf?" He stared at the aura sword tied to her waist. "Are you per change interested in trading aura sword?"

  Trash hummed. "Why are you always trying to pawn me off? And to a researcher at that? It would be so boring — basically torture! At least give me to a traumatized mad person to make it interesting."

  Both Hilda and Shalana stared at Trash.

  "A conciouss aura sword?" Shalana said.

  "Hey, what did I tell you about talking in public? Eventually I am going to have to make a list of everyone who doesn't know you can talk!"

  "Whatever. Your day-to-day life is so boring. Bring the mad researchers here already, so they can try and kill you. You barely did anything other than getting beaten up by an old lady," Trash complained.

  "That was that dumb Oblivion's fault, not me!" He looked at them. "You won't tell anyone about this sword, right? Alice told me a mad researcher could try and steal him — without giving me a new aura sword in return, and hopefully you two around included in the mad researcher category."

  Hilda laughed. "Don't worry. We aren't that mad. A talking sword is a rare find though."

  "Indeed," Shalana said. "Most conscious swords were kept by the elf king who corrupted them even more from the aftereffects of the black catastrophe."

  "Zev — I mean Vice-Commander Zev, did tell me all the elves left their home after the elf king went mad. And I didn't know elves could be observers."

  She shook her head. "Not an observer. I am a researcher here of my own volition, using the elven art of synergy to avoid any accidental contaminations during research. But my true purpose here is to find a way to heal my people's homeland."

  That was right; didn't the Ley Line begin from the elven forest? "So you want to stop the Ley Line from sucking out all the spirits from the forest?"

  "No, I have no qualms with the Ley Line. Our forest naturally produces the type of spirits called fairies, and the only reason the Ley Line exists is because they are fleeing for better pastures. I need to find out what happened to my kin who traveled to the South." She gestured to Hilda. "So is her interest. Even we elves were shocked to find out that the kingdom was hiding a giant war happening in its southern region, with otherworlders and something called a System Manipulator. My people, with no other choice, traveled down there to ask for reinforcement from the acting army some 100 years ago, since His Majesty did not have the troops to spare. But they never returned. I am not one to be too optimistic, but there being some kind of protective shield created by the World-Rune from the sheer amount of fairies it is absorbing could be a possibility. So please tell us: what is the state of the South?"

  Tom could feel his sweat drip as they were both staring intensely at him, waiting for an answer. Taking a deep breath, he gave them the truth: "Is it a bad thing if I happen to have amnesia?"

  The stared at him in silence, and then both literally fell onto the table.

  "Amnesia?" Hilda groaned. "Of all things, even being able to return here, you forgot everything?"

  Shalana covered her eyes. "What a disappointment."

  "But," Tom added. "Alice, the Commander, did give me the task of going to the South after the Sermon of Sainthood. If I managed to return, then surely I can do it again, right?"

  Hilda's eyes widened. "Lady Alice did? She must know something." Standing up and making her way to her desk, she wrote something down. "Alright. Let's do that. You travel to the South for us, and to avoid you returning with amnesia Shalana and I are going to figure out a way for you to communicate with us."

  "What about my Breakthrough?" Tom added. "It would be best to pass it whilst I have the change, just in case."

  "I agree," Shalana added.

  Hilda waved her hand. "Then we will do that too. Helping you create your third ring is something we can help with. Moving past the Breakthrough on the other hand — we will see if the archangel will accept that request. In the meantime leading up to the sermon, you should help us make contact with that stubborn king of ours. Before he dies."

  "Dies?"

  Shalan nodded. "His Majesty used to be a bright young man, but over time I have seen him become consumed by paranoia. I wouldn't blame him. He was the one who first encountered the Morphling that killed his son, leaving the crown prince Helanor as his only heir. And from what the fairies have told me, the Morphling has finally decided to kill His Majesty."

  "Kill him? How?"

  She shrugged. "No idea. The fairies would only tell me so much to avoid interfering with fate. To save him, we are going to have to improvise. And I am surprisingly confident with the plan we have made up."

  "That can wait for after you receive an audience," Hilda added. "She stared at him," folding her arms. "Do you agree to this plan?"

  Trash hummed. "Yes, he will. Otherwise I am going to die of boredom."

  ***

  Tom managed to send a request to meet the king through Alice. She had been apprehensive at first, but when he told her it was related to the observers guild, her stance softened. All that was left was to wait for a response from the king, then he could finally pursue his Breakthrough and figure out what the space was going on in the South.

  The truth had been shocking to Tom as well. Hiding the fact that the entire remaining part of the kingdoms territory was a battlefield, that was honestly impressive from the nobilities end. Yet Shalana told him her fellow elves hadn't returned in one hundred years, so Tom wasn't exactly confident in surviving this mission unscathed. Being an otherworlder could only take him so far. Should he have rejected their proposition? No, Alice wanted him to go there too in order to contact the otherworlders guild. He had no other options. Hopefully he would be able to learn what happened here in the past between the otherworlders soon. With all the missing information, this isekai adventure had become far too complicated.

  Taking a deep breath, he emptied his mind, and focused on hanging out with Mark and Hiro. There was time to kill so he figured they could so some training. Going to the training grounds, every day, had been a torturous experience in the beginning. But over time he had grown used to it, and currently he was itching for another session. He stared at the giant arena in front of him. Several nobles were dueling in it. The perfect place to perfect their fighting prowess. Who knew if he had to fight some kind of boss battle to move past the Breakthrough stage?

  "This is twice the size of the commoner's training grounds. Amazing," Mark remarked.

  "It is," Tom agreed. "Why don't we go spar over there? And Hiro, you won't have to wait for long. I will complete my third ring soon, then we can go together to move past the Breakthrough."

  Hiro scratched his head. "Yeah, about that. There is something I haven't told you: I can't move past my Breakthrough stage."

  Tom stopped. "Why not?"

  "I am half beastkin remember? Although I have reached my Breakthrough stage, since I am not a complete human there is no way for me to progress further."

  "But that doesn't make sense. You have three rings around your aura. Even if you can only use parts of the human and beastkin system, it should still work, somehow."

  Hiro sighed. "That is my problem. I have both the World-Rune's blessing in helping progress my aura and the beastkin art of endorsement. Beastkin are much more proficient at refining their aura than humans through a method called cultivation, powered by the art of endorsement. According to the rules of endorsement, one must always be able to gain or lose their progression. Because moving past the Breakthrough is a permanent action that alters your very being, it breaks the law of endorsement since I cannot lose my progression, and is therefore forbidden for me."

  "That is an interesting dilemma. Halflings tend to die premature," a voice spoke. "How bothersome. I have been in this world for who knows how long, but I still haven't found all the bugs."

  Tom flinched and turned around. Behind him stood a woman with chestnut-colored hair and with one of her eyes hidden under an eyepatch. Her roots, including a lock of her hair, were dyed in a familiar red color — it was The Madness.

  Jumping back to the others, he unsheathed Trash. "Careful guys. It is a feral."

  The woman stared at them in silence, then burst into laughter. "Me? A feral? Not yet, that's for sure. I still have a lot left to do." She grinned. "Nice seeing you again Tom. And you were called Mark I believe."

  Mark looked at Tom. "Do you — no we, know her?"

  Tom shrugged. He had no recollection of ever seeing this woman before. But she did look a bit familiar.

  Hiro gave her a nod. "My name is Hiro. What did you mean by finding bugs?"

  She waved her hand around. "Don't worry about it. Oh, and my name is Rachel by the way. Would be interesting if you managed to remember it."

  "Ok?"

  Tom tightened his grip on Trash. "What do you want?"

  "I want a lot of things, actually. But sadly I have to prioritize some wants over others." She motioned around them. "In the meantime: we are in an arena, aren't we? What do you say to a friendly sparring match? Me against you, Tom."

  "You want … a sparring match? I guess it would be fine." He stared at the gun in her holster. "But I am not sure I am up to bringing a sword to a gunfight."

  "Don't worry." Rachel pulled out her gun. Letting go, the gun floated in mid-air. Swiping along it using her index finger, the gun started losing its shape, turning a dark shade of black, until it molded into a sword. She grabbed the hilt of the new sword. "This will do. I will take my place. Feel free to start whenever," she said and walked off.

  "Wow! She turned her gun into a sword. What class can do that?" Mark asked.

  "No clue," Hiro responded, keeping his eyes fixed on the woman standing still, waiting for Tom to start the duel.

  There was something off about this Rachel. Her eye wouldn't stop moving around while talking to them, and with The Madness infecting her, he had doubts about her sanity. That wasn't even mentioning her suddenly molding something with that black color. It had the same shade of black as the Hero and Sierra's sonata. Could she be the Hero? He shook his head. No way the Hero would appear here. Although, she had to have some kind of connection to the Hero.

  "Make sure she doesn't do anything weird," Tom said. Walking closer, he looked at his glove. He had no interest in using any of his embodied items. Just igniting Trash with a spirit would do. Maybe a wind spirit? He focused on the spirits in the soul gem and made a disappointed grunt when Trash turned blue. A water spirit. Looked like he needed more training.

  "Here I come!" He charged towards her, going for a swing.

  Rachel swiftly stepped to the side to avoid the blade and swung at him. Tom was barely able to parry the blow and was dragged several feet backward.

  "No need to hold back. I can handle those poison spirits you are hiding."

  She knew? That could only mean she was an observer. One not affiliated with the kingdom. Deciding to go for it, he took out a poison vial and threw it in the air. With one motion he cut it and used stabilize. "[Poison slash]!"

  A wave of poison water shot towards her, creating a small cloud of smoke from the sand covering the ground. When the dust had settled, a melting hole revealed itself, but Rachel was gone.

  "Above you!" Mark shouted.

  Looking up, he found her standing in the middle of the air. How — no, he could make out small black rods extending to the ground, holding her up.

  "Now it's my turn." She raised her sword, which had slightly shrunk in size. It lost its dark color and turned red, the shade of The Madness. "I like to call this one: [Time to go mad]!"

  Then she swung her blade and crimson red engulfed his entire vision. His body turned numb, Trash slipped from his hand, and he completely lost touch with reality. The concept of time became foreign and he found himself staring at an empty red space. Gradually it began losing its color, turning white. Then colorful stars basked the empty canvas with color. He saw every color of the rainbow, some more, and a few he couldn't comprehend. Confusion, anger, and panic were all he could feel. It felt like the emotions were screaming out to him, completely taking over his consciousness.

  "Try blinking and focusing on the colors you understand. You are losing grasp of reality," a soft voice told him.

  Tom did as the voice said and repeatedly blinked, trying to ignore the colors he couldn't comprehend until his surroundings became more consistent. When the conflicting emotions had calmed down, he found himself inside a closed room, lying on the cold stone floor. In front of him, kneeling down, was a woman with hair white as snow, wearing heavy armor with an elaborately decorated sword tied to her waist.

  "Don't worry, otherworlder. You are safe."

  He stared at her unfamiliar face. "Who are you?"

  "I am the sword saint, Lyra Songbird." She gave him a reassuring smile. "I was starting to lose hope when the Delinquents to the South decided to breach our defenses, but it seems help has arrived. You were sent here by the Wandering God to help us, weren't you?"