Chapter 35: Chapter 35

Aziel’s gaze drifted forward, and his breath caught for a moment.

What stretched before him was not a landscape, it was a graveyard made of glass.

Thousands of crystalline figures stood scattered across the vast field, glinting faintly under the pale light.

They sprawled in uneven lines, embedded into the ground at random intervals, spreading outward like colonies of frozen ants that had once been alive and moving.

He narrowed his eyes, focusing his senses, scanning each figure carefully. The silence around him deepened.

As the details sharpened, a chill crawled down his spine.

Every single one of them, every frozen shape, was human.

And stranger still, they all wore the same expression.

Faces locked in that exact, fleeting moment of shock, the kind of startled worry people made when something unexpected appeared before them. ɴᴇᴡ ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀʀᴇ ᴘᴜʙʟɪsʜᴇᴅ ᴏɴ ɴovelfire.net

It was surprise, disbelief, confusion, captured forever.

Aziel stood motionless, his pulse quickening as the eerie symmetry of it all began to sink in.

"Why do you look so surprised, Sir Aziel? Could it be that-"

Frickon stopped mid-sentence, his expression twisting as he tried to piece together his own thought.

His eyes darted to Aziel, who stood slightly slouched, studying the crystalline field in silence.

"Wait... don’t tell me, some vessel you know has gone missing?"

Frickon exclaimed, inventing a mystery that had never needed to exist.

Aziel gave him a sidelong glance. "No, it’s nothing like that. I just find them, amusing."

he said quietly, though his tone carried that same distant curiosity, his gaze unavoidably drawn back toward the frozen figures despite his words.

"Frickon," Aziel began after a pause, "I’ve come to a conclusion."

Frickon’s eyes lit up with exaggerated disbelief.

"What, what kind of conclusion? Wait, don’t tell me I’ve finally proven myself to you!"

Aziel shut his eyes briefly, exhaling as if collecting his thoughts, or perhaps arranging his question in the least suspicious way possible. Then, in his calm, steady voice, he said, "Yes. I think I’ve evaluated you enough. It wouldn’t be wrong to say you’re someone capable of rising through the social and economic hierarchies."

Frickon’s grin widened, practically glowing.

"But..." Aziel continued, his tone sharpening just enough to command attention.

"I have one last question to ask you. And that question will decide whether you truly succeed or not. Answer it wrong, and every bit of progress so far becomes worthless. Answer it right," his eyes opened again, glinting faintly in the green light, "and your success compounds beyond measure."

"W, wait, what kind of question are we talking about here? Is this one of those trick ones again? Because last time, on the jetgliders, you asked me how many sides a hand has, and apparently, ’four if you count the inside’ was wrong!"

Aziel didn’t respond immediately, recalling the moment when he had slipped in some irrelevant questions, so as not to make him suspicious of his real motivation.

Frickon’s shoulders tensed. "Okay, fine, shoot. I’m ready. My brain’s sharp, like, like a laser. A slightly unfocused laser, but still dangerous."

Aziel almost smiled. "Good. Then tell me, Frickon, what do you make of these vessels?"

Frickon blinked, caught off guard. "You mean, like artistically? Because personally, I think they could use a bit more variety in color. All this green feels kinda, unhealthy. Maybe a little glitter?" He winked, barely suppressing a grin.

"No, I do not mean that. I want to ask how and why these vessels exist here," Aziel finally completed the sentence, cutting off his brief hesitation at being caught.

Frickon’s expression faltered for a moment, darkening with confusion, then sliding back into his usual stoic mood, he spoke.

"Ohh, so what you basically want to ask me is the ’Cosmic Expansion Phenomenon,’ right? That knowledge, it’s almost engraved in our hearts, being told countless times right after we’re born. Why even ask that dumb question then?"

Aziel’s lips curved, eyes narrowing slightly.

"Oh, I don’t know, I enjoy asking questions everyone already knows the answer to. There’s no test of knowledge there, but how someone frames their answer, that’s when you truly see how sharp they really are."

He halted, leaning in slightly.

"So do me a favor. Show me what you know, but do it without actually saying it. Let your answer speak for itself. Every nuance, every angle, leave no detail unnoticed, even if it’s unspoken."

Frickon blinked, caught between confusion and intrigue, eyes burning with determination.

He stepped slightly forward, letting the weight of the field settle around him. "Very well," he said softly, almost to himself. "Then I will tell it properly."

"Millions of years ago,"

Frickon began, voice rising with awe.

"When intelligent lifeforms had just begun to form intensively, came us, the Plasmas. Back then, we couldn’t live in peace. Our ancestors were constantly overloaded with unimaginable energy bubbling inside them out of nowhere. They would run, chaotically, as if the energy itself threatened to tear reality apart. They flickered, moving in and out of states, sometimes gas, sometimes liquid, sometimes solid, cycling through thousands of forms and variations. Living among other lifeforms, it was impossible.

Gradually, our ancestors learned to stabilize themselves, if only briefly. That’s when the Farlands were discovered, a place where we would discharge our exceeding energy. But even then, we discharged our energy with abandon. Those early releases evolved into what we now call ’Energy Storms.’ Storms so precise and devastating that they could obliterate anything, except us.

As our population grew, the storms multiplied, millions upon millions, rattling the world, erasing every species beyond our own. Entire ecosystems collapsed under the weight of our power. Even the ancestors themselves could no longer exist normally, due to the dynamic shift. Rocks, forests, even mountains were obliterated. The land itself was reshaped, scarred by our storms.

"And yet, we continued," Frickon added with a wry grin, "because apparently, chaos is just our favorite hobby."

He paused, letting the humor linger in the eerie field.

"With no care, no restraint, no thought for what came after. Soon, there was nothing left beneath our feet. Storms reached the skies, tunneled into the depths of the earth, carved the seas, leaving only endless blackness."