“Let’s break it down—”

With a pleasant Tack! Master presses the white chalk on the blackboard, and with almost mechanical precision, begins to write.

“In the far distant corner of the eastern spiral of the [Outer Ring] in the uncharted, unregarded, Almanomea-Tieresa system, lies a completely ordinary and utterly unremarkable sentient [Edinera Class Planet] whose 18% of its inhabited lifeforms have taken to call [Kyrias].”

—That’s what he says, though personally, ordinary and sentient planets are not words I would ever put in the same sentence.

“How can Kyrias—a planet—be sentient?”

Without stopping his right hand or turning around, Master opens his book with his left hand and answers me.

“Short version; the universe is big and vast and ridiculous and there are all sorts of things out there that are beyond your imagination.”

“And the long version?”

“Requires an explanation for the fundamental structure of our [Fictional] existence and the quantum computing power of [Languages] which is commonly—perceived as [Magic]. Plus the symbiotic relationship between sentient life and all Astral-based life forms.”

“I think I’ll... stick with the short version for now.”

—If you somehow explain magic then it wouldn’t be magical anymore, would it? Hold on, Master, that is not a challenge please don’t—  

“I’m too busy for that, can’t you see?”

Punctual, stern, focused, the Master I’m talking to right now seems to be that Master…

I walk around [The Astral Projector] to stand beside him. Just when he finishes writing on the three blackboards and begins to read what’s written on the second one out loud.

“5.4 billion years old [RT]. Inanimate for half its existence. Developed faint consciousness during the first step of its biological evolution. Developed self-awareness when Rank 1 species such as [Mon Aurisa] and [Homosapien Paralleli] started forming semblances of civilizations. Fast forward a couple of thousand years. Kingdoms rise, empires fall. The Farseer invaded, Cilisil conquested. The 6 empires divided their rules. Kyrias fully awakened its [Edinera], adding a [Sigma] to all its civilization types. And 1500 years later—”

Master pauses and softly clenches the white chalk in his fist, before looking at the third and last blackboard.

“RT 20.5.1500 ED. Peace and prosperity dramatically increased the population from 812.0 million to 2.001 billion. The prosperity that was paid by the blood of those who are marked as the [Scry]. The inheritors of the cursed bloodline that carried with it a haunted fate and a destiny to all eventually died out and faded from the page of history…”

On the last blackboard are 20 lists of the number of Scries’ deaths in each century. Hundreds to thousands to hundreds of thousands to millions and finally to zero.

Their fragile mortalities all accumulated and summed up into a grossly simple form using cold, rational mathematics.

Despite that these numbers shouldn’t mean anything to me, their dreadful implication still makes my throat feel dry.

I shouldn’t have a reason to care. Yet. The corpses I’ve seen inside the Farseer’s catacomb. The boy whom I watched froze to death in front of me while being unable to do anything. I can’t help but think that...

“It’s unfair, isn’t it?”

I turn to face Master who completes my thought process. He continues.

“All their pains, all their hardships, all their sorrows—all that will be forgotten by the world. But the [The Conceptors Grand Archive] doesn’t forget. Every horrible thing that happened to those who have involuntarily been born a Scry, they happened… over and over again.”

"..."

Fated, trapped, destined, those are truly cursed words that prick my skin no matter how many times I hear them. Saying they exist, nullifies the efforts of those who try to make a difference. Saying that they’re undefiable and absolute, makes us complacent.

But I know that’s no longer true.

“And if you have the knowledge to change all of that for them too, wouldn’t you at least try?”

—Is he talking about…?

“The Divergence Process?”

“Yep.”

Master nods his head. I look back at the first line written on the third blackboard. LD 20.5.1500 ED.

I see… The Scry may not make for the majority of Kyrias’ populations, but there is certainly a big enough part of it that if he’s able to significantly alter all of their lives, then the course of Kyrias’ history as a whole should also be affected.

“But why choose this point in time in particular? You could have gone back further, like before Ense enslaved the Scry, or before the Farseer invaded the continent?”

“Huaaaaaa~”

Master takes a deep breath and knocks on the blackboard twice, making the lines of white chalks automatically erase themselves.

“Obligatory time travel explanation, here we go…”

He then begins drawing schematic diagrams on the blackboard, erases that, then draws branching lines instead, erases them too, and after switching from a few different art styles he finally settles to just drawing a semi-realistic leafless tree. And that’s when the thought crossed my mind.

—Oh god, he’s not going to tell me a simple answer, is he?

“Let’s try comparing [The Six Eternities] to a forest. With each eternity concepted, a seed grows into a tree. And with each tree, the forest gets larger and larger. Make sense?”

“I’m still following, yeah.”

Master draws a new tree, bigger and with more branches than the old one.

“When a [Conception] happens. The old eternity doesn’t get erased, but it also doesn’t become the new one. The new one simply takes what was in the old one and expands on it. Which makes it possible to travel between one eternity to another with the [Temporal Plane] being the path, and the [Astral Plane] being the catch-all solution in case anything goes wrong.”

Master then points up to the non-existence ceiling with the piece of chalk.

“You can’t see it because it’s currently very weak, but up there—”

Looking up, I can see [The Six Eternities] shining brightly against the dark sky like a circle of six white dots. And if I know what I'm supposed to be looking at I’d say that there’s nothing unusual, but I don’t.

“—There’s a thin link connecting all those white dots. That’s the [Datasphere]. It’s a preparation for the [ultimate convergence] and it's kind of important, like, very important”

Back on the blackboard, Master draws a circle around a branch of the new tree, then a line cutting across it. And I’m beginning to get very confused.

“Let us surmise that this wholly unique branch has a 50% chance of splitting into 2 different left or right branches. Now, can you tell me how many different outcomes exist for this isolated series of hypothetical events?”

“Um… two?”

“Nope, the answer is still 100.”

“...”

Master then begins to add squiggly lines all over the place while saying words that I don't understand.

“And if we factor in extra dimensions. Instead of just left and right. It could be up, down, diagonal, negative material,  hyper material, temporal, astral. This 100 could increase to infinity.”

“...”

“Steve, please. Try a little harder. It’s really not that complicated.”

—Not that complicated, ordinary, if this trend keeps continuing then I wouldn’t be needing any more explanation but a brand new dictionary…

Huaaaa~

“Fine. Let’s see.”

I carefully observe the messy-looking drawings on the board, trying to decipher their coherent bits while searching for any hints and clues in Master’s previous chatters from memory. 

And after thinking a little while, I came to the conclusion that what Master’s trying to say turns out to really be not that complicated. But it is nonetheless a product of a mind that sees that world very differently from my own.

“You’re saying that saving the Scry isn’t possible, right?”

At least not completely…

Because a timeline couldn’t be erased due to that the [ultimate convergence] could only happen if all possible outcomes coexist at the same time. Emphasis on [all possible]. In the branch example, he’s saying that while there might be 2 distinct results, the number of subtle variations of those 2 results can be basically infinite. And every single one must be permanently recorded.

“So even if you can change the timeline to one that the Scry doesn’t exist in the first place. The Scry would still exist. And it wouldn’t really change… anything.”

Following that line of reasoning then a possibility where the Scry doesn’t exist might even already exist.

And if so...

“And if so, even when we are somehow able to change their fate in this timeline… Even when we somehow manage to tip the scale by 1% ...Would it even make enough of a difference?”

“Of course it does, we’re in [The Conceptors Grand Archive]. Everything is remembered here, no matter how big or small.”

“Even so small that it loses its meaning?”

“That’s just the nature of infinity. When you have a forest, a single branch isn’t so special. But a forest is exactly what I’m trying to recreate.”

Master draws another tree, a bigger one that completely overshadows the previous two. The forest gets bigger, but the importance of each individual branch becomes smaller and smaller.

“You might say that by striving to achieve the [ultimate convergence] I’m also erasing the [uniqueness] or maybe even the [meaning] of everything. But might I also remind you that there was a purpose given to us by that being, one I did everything to reject?”

“The choice between accepting the purpose given to you by your creator, or choosing your own from the horrifying vastness of possibilities… huh?”

I gaze at [The Six Eternities] in the black sky absentmindedly. Frankly, I’m annoyed with this whole infinity and eternity business. I mean, what does a person like me supposed to feel with this knowledge anyway?

“You can take this truth any number of ways you like, Steve. Nihilism, existentialism, essentialism. But when push comes to shove. I think we both know what you will end up choosing.”

“...”

—I suppose, one good thing about having a near-omniscient friend is that you never have to explain yourself to them.

I look back at Master, who once again knocks on the blackboards twice to clear away the drawings, feeling curious.

“So now what? You’re just going to whisper into their ears, [the Scry are actually really nice please don’t be mean to them] and that’s it?”

“If only it was that easy…”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s not really efficient. Is it?”

He answers me and scoffs lightly to himself.

“Sure, appealing to their emotions or survival instinct to redirect their attention for a short period is fairly easy. Especially a thought that deeply resonates with their core psychological stance. Lust, pride, cowardice, etcetera. But more than that and the whispering alone becomes a very limited tool.”

...So, he can’t force someone to make extremely irrational decisions, or instantly convince them to act in a way that would go against their core belief just by whispering into their ears?

“Let alone changing the world, no amount of tiny voices inside your head is going to make you forget your first love—or more relevantly, change an entire civilization of about 2 billion people’s perception of a despised lineage. It’s too contrived.”

I pinch my chin, thinking that I understand where this is going...

“That’s why there’s the [Catalyst Role], right?”

—If his voice can only affect the material plane in small and almost inconsequential ways. The ability to almost directly influence a person’s action freely like how he guided Viviana through the capital city is tremendously more intuitive—if it doesn’t also present its own limitations...

“Exactly, because there can’t be more than one [Master] at the same time. There could only be one [Catalyst]. But every fate in the world still needs to be changed for the Divergence Counter to reach 100%.”

—One method allows a large scale, but limited influence. Another allows a higher degree of suggestiveness, but only on a single being…

“But if you use them together, Steve. You could drag along the entire world with the Catalyst and tie everything up in one tangled stream of cause and effects.”

—One fate, to change all the rest, one drop of water to ripple in the ocean of causalitas infinitum like a flap of a butterfly’s wings creating a storm.

“But… How?”

“That’s the mystery we have to figure out.”

Master moves to another blackboard and begins drawing a map of Kyrias’ continent and the territory of the six empires.

“The six empires of Kyrias. At the center is Elysian, east is Umara, north is Desmundheim, south is Maziono, west is Carinaru, Ainecarias is one teleporting city.”

He then steps back, quietly muttering.

“1 world. 2 billion fates. 500 million Scry, dying, suffering, crying for justice in a world where they don't belong…”

...Quietly muttering, as if mourning, as if he himself is in pain.

“Are you alright?”

To my question, he smiles, one that’s more like a sneer. An arrogant, vile expression, far too different from what I’ve seen him making before to properly describe.

“Me, yes, of course. This world, however, has a really big problem.”

Master walks back toward the blackboard again to slam his fist on it.

Bang! 

“The [setting] of Kyrias is way too—BORING!”

…..

“...What?”

Then without any provocation from me, Master launches into another half-coherent rambling.

And the feeling of dread emanating from him only grows with each moment.

“Boring, dull, unimaginative! The only interesting quality it has is the type 0 Σ civilization, and literally nothing else. Compare to another [Edinera Class Setting] with deep and rich history intertwining various planes of existence, with its own system of interconnected links of sub-dimensions. Kyrias is way too peaceful!”

“How... is that a problem?”

Master turns to me, deadly serious as he says this.

“You were an author weren’t you, Steve? Therefore you should be familiar with how conflicts are a fundamental part of a story. It’s different from genre to genre, but most of the time in [Fantasy], this conflict presents itself in the form of an antagonist.”

Master takes the piece of chalk and begins drawing a scale on the side of Kyrias’ map. With the phrase [the scale of objective evil] playfully written at the bottom.

“There’s always some evil antagonist conveniently trying to take over the world and wreaking chaos everywhere. Sometimes there’s just one evil overlord, sometimes there’s an entire plane of existence like Hell or the Abyss dedicated to producing an endless stream of disposable bad guys for the heroes to fight, change, grow, and eventually overcome.”

He finishes drawing [the scale of objective evil] without putting in any names—or rather, he can’t put in any names. 

“But Kyrias doesn’t have that, does it? Or to be more specific, it no longer has that. This world is so perfectly peaceful that if the Scry doesn’t exist it could pretty much be called a utopia…. How would you convince a world like that to change?”

“But Master...”

—That’s just in a story, isn’t it?

“We are [fictional].”

“I know… but—”

As I struggle to find the right word to express my feeling at the moment, Master resumes his explanation.

“To change a world is basically to write another chapter for this fiction. To spin the yarn of history into a different narrative. If we follow the logic of a narrative, then conflicts—micro and macro—create dramas, dramas present opportunities, and with opportunities, come change.”

Master then turns to me and asks in a toneless voice.

“So how can there be a story without conflict?”

For a second, he stares at me as if genuinely expecting me to answer that question. But I don’t know what to say to him. Thankfully, he soon continues to talk.

“You’re familiar with entropy, right? [The second law of thermodynamics]?”

“... Kind of?”

It’s a basic concept, after all. The law states that entropy increases over time as things that are in order tend toward disorder. An irreversible spontaneous process would generate entropy until an isolated system reaches the state of thermal equilibrium.

“There is a form of the second law of thermodynamics in this universe… But it's fake. Because when the cycle resets the entropy value of the whole universe would increase in the same predictable ways, every single time.”

“...So instead of going toward true disorder, everything is going toward the same, orderly disorder?”

“Yes, and if the Divergence Process isn’t able to make a huge enough impact. If that impact doesn’t last for a long enough time. It will find a way to somehow revert to its original [Equilibrium] state. And a true timeline divergence wouldn’t happen.”

“…What does that mean?”

“It means just freeing them isn’t enough. If the Scry are going to change the world, they can’t just be survivors. They need to thrive. And in this peaceful setting of Kyrias, they wouldn’t have that opportunity.”

My eyes are automatically drawn to the map of Kyrias on the blackboard, at the neatly defined territory, at each of the 6 empires all existing in harmony. Feeling rather pathetic that I can't figure out the solution to the problem. And that's when Master whispers to me.

“But we know we’re [fictional]. So if there’s no [conflict]... Why can’t we just make it?”

—Make it?

“You don’t mean...?”

As it dawns on me what Master is trying to convey, my eyes widen in shock. I look back at the face of the white-haired man, and exactly as I fear… He’s smiling.

“Yes… Let’s burn the whole of Kyrias~! For the sake of the Scry~✰!”

Smiling brightly, innocently, as if he has announced the happiest thing to have ever happened in his life while sounding so full of confidence that for the first time...

—He scares me.