Chapter 12

Just as the days before, Mona was left alone in his room. Cross didn't say much of a word about the arena, but then again Mona had already adjusted to his typically gruff attitude.

"I'm... getting used to it."

The first thought that entered his mind was about the numerous deaths he had witnessed today. Before Mona had realized, he was finding himself more and more comfortable with Death than he wanted to be. His series of unfortunate events was hardening his heart, and the thought of losing that part of his humanity bothered him greatly. But the environment wouldn't give him any chances to rectify it.

He sat on the small bed he had given, an assortment of fabrics that was slowly starting to smell. The showers he had been taking were unsatisfactory, and even after trying to take another on his return, he still felt a thin layer of grime on his skin. He held the soap brick in his hands, at last seeing inconsistencies in the bar itself. He sighed. Yet again the quality of everything was hurting him.

"I hope I don't get sick. I have Aura, but..."

Aura at his level could improve the natural strength of the body, but natural illness and diseases could still get to him. And this prison was certainly rife with patients. Or was at least. Mona knew that they likely disposed of any ill individuals without saying a word. What good was sick merchandise?

He let the bluish rays of Heron wash over him, like doing so would instill a sense of a calm in this quagmire. He then turned to the history book once more. His eyes had a sparkle in it. A bit of joy creeped up his lips as well.

"Who knew that this book was hiding a method in it! 'Flame Art'! My luck is amazing!"

He tried to whisper to himself, but couldn't contain the excitement too well. Mona still tried to keep his voice low, in case guards really did patrol the halls and were potentially eavesdropping. He hadn't heard steps before, but with an item like this he couldn't be too careful.

He muttered a prayer under his breath.

"Thank you Cross for looking the other way. This method is amazing, and I wouldn't have it without you."

He chuckled inwardly. Getting his hands on this, this special method, felt like a win in his captivity against his enslavers. But it begged the question: why wasn't this found first?

He looked over the book with more carefulness than ever before. Nothing stood out to him. All the words seemed similar throughout the book, and even the final chapter was no different than the rest. Mona thought that maybe the stains of the book, or the aging of the font's ink could be an intentional clue, but if either was true the person behind it did it masterfully.

"So do I have Fire Aura?"

He looked into his body, looking at the wisps in his Aura Heart. Was this Fire Aura? No, it couldn't be. His Aura lacked a color, and even after using the method in the arena, it didn't take on a reddish hue. But that bone in his ribcage did. Hmm. Strange. Even weirder was that only one rib was changed in color, almost like the others could be changed eventually too...

Mona recited the passages from the history book, feeling his Aura wisps go through his body in the familiar circuit, before he felt the warmth in his palms again. Thankfully the attack didn't immediately launch; Mona felt fortunate the method didn't do much with the air besides warm it. Maybe if there was something flammable in the air, it could ignite and then...

He shuddered.

Thank Alphi I'm nowhere near a pocket of explosive gas in this mountain range.

He could only imagine what would come out of being caught in the center of an explosion like that. That is, if he even lived.

After reading the book multiple times, Mona tried something new. He recited in his mind those familiar words, just as he heard them earlier today.

Flame Art: Heat Emission

The Aura in his core heeded his call, traveling through his meridians, rib bone, muscles and then his palm, waiting for his intention to release the full technique. When he declined, the Aura returned to the core in his chest, once again humming to his circadian rhythms.

Faster, this was much faster! Reading that passage took a few minutes, but compared to a few words, it was exponentially better. This incantation made everything much easier. Why didn't all methods have one?

Mona tried to repeat this process, calling on the art to ready itself, then declining. He thought that doing so would strengthen the art, and allow him to either make it more powerful, or gain a new skill. Instead, he felt it in his bones. A wall. Like something was blocking forward progress. Was it insight? Aura? He couldn't tell.

The young noble shook his head.

Let's train something else.

His hands ran over the method manual "Basic Fighting Methods." He opened the manual, skimmed a few pages, but ultimately returned it back. He already knew the fundamentals of what that book contained, and there was nothing left to learn from it.

He took out the aura training technique instead, getting ready to practice it. He was just ready to close his eyes until he realized it.

Sniff.

Sniff. Sniff. Sniff.

Wait. Where was the smell?

Mona got up, and then walked to the two buckets that had sat in his room for the duration of his stay. The water bucket had a fresh pool of water, and it even looked more clear. The second bucket was even more interesting. His chamber bucket, he decided to call it, was larger and even had a few runes inscribed on the inside of the bucket.

"What do these do?"

He didn't feel like going yet, so he couldn't test it that way. But the bright idea came to him to use his pillow. The little thing was starting to reek after all, and the bucket looked fresh and big enough to hold it. Putting pillow in bucket, he watched in amazement as the runes lit up and cleaned the pillow! He knew it was clean because it grew a few shades lighter, no longer heavy with his body's grime.

Almost at once, Mona threw, if not shoved, everything he had into the bucket, watching it clean everything new. A feeling of happiness finally filled his spirit. Clean clothes, clean bed. He could breathe easier now.

As a test, he tried to pour some water into the bucket, and it did nothing. Nor did the soap. Or any of the books. What was most surprising was the stains on the history book didn't go away. They clung to the pages of that text. But Mona didn't know what to think of it, so he cast that thought to the side and resumed his aura technique.

He could feel it, the natural Aura in the air steadily entering his body, bit by bit. Collecting in his meridians near his skin inside his lungs, the fragments came together to form wisps in his Aura Heart. 1, 2, 3... the time-consuming process produced slow but steady results. If he kept this up for several more days, not only would he enter the late stage of an Aura Novice, but the remaining minor defects in his Aura Heart would be effectively solved. Progress, he could feel it in every tissue, muscle, and sinew of his body.

And that was how Mona spent the night, steadily collecting Aura wisps into his Aura Heart. Heron disappeared and was replaced by the two moons of Onas, and soon enough the first sun Golron made its appearance again.

*****

The days passed like this. Mona would be guided by Cross to the mess hall, have his meal, then return to his room to train. He got into the rhythm of things rather quickly, and Cross couldn't enjoy it more. The guard expected Mona to sooner or later cause him trouble, but instead against his expectations the assumed merchant just kept to pace.

Sure, Cross wasn't sure if the information about Mona being a noble was completely accurate. Something about the young man seemed off. He carried himself too seriously, his steps were not those of a traveling merchant seeking to unload goods. But that wasn't Cross' problem. The Faulkners in charge, here the general, can handle that problem. He was more than satisfied with the minimal tasks he had, although he'd be happier with no babysitting expectations.

Mona stood in front of the cell door, looking at Cross. He'd recently touched the boundary of the late stage, and just about passed over it. Compared to the feel of aura he felt in the mess hall, his progress was neither fast or slow. The meals there were as good as the day after the arena; he even saw a few foods he was familiar with. Cross arrived just on time; he was getting rather peckish.

"Before we go to the mess hall, I was told to let you know the arena is now open at all times. If you have any interest in improving your fighting skills, you're welcome to go there and train. A few prisoners should already be there."

"Now, let's go to the mess hall."

Cross turned around, ready to take Mona, but Mona spoke up.

"Would it be possible for me to go to the library again?"

The words brought a stop to the guard. He turned around, looking deep into those purple eyes.

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"You've asked me this the past few days. Only the general can approve of that request."

He turned back, already walking out of the room.

Mona had tried to get more reading material, or rather, he was trying to get his hands on more books that could have Arts. After all, if the library had one, surely there could be more there too, right? But the eagle heads were rigid in their ways; the path might still be fresh in his mind, but the restrictions were in the way.

Inwardly sighing, Mona followed along the guard, passing the familiar passageways to the mess hall. From time to time he could see guards-turned-staff scrubbing away at the walls. Displeasure was on their faces for all to see. From conquering territory to scrubbing walls, who'd be happy with a downgrade?

Mona went straight to the standing line for food, and Cross went to his usual spot, chatting up a few other onlookers. There hadn't been a fight in the mess hall in a few weeks, which was strange. Nor any broken bowls. The tables were more sparsely occupied; although he couldn't count how many, the number of deaths was pretty obvious. And with the arena open, maybe a few would die here and there from "accidents."

Mona made up his mind to avoid the location. Sure he could fight, but it didn't benefit him none. The seer crystal was likely deactivated, and nothing to gain fighting there. At most, he could build up his combat experience, but he wasn't interested in becoming a war slave. Conquering territories for the flimsy chance at freedom? No thanks.

A bowl of soup, and a salad. Instead of meat there was a bowl of peculiar nuts and fruit. Opening the fruit yielded the same nuts, and the flesh had a chewy sweetness he didn't find distasteful. Maybe it grew locally to Faulkner territory, he thought, as he threw another fruit into his mouth. Casado wasn't present today, and instead one of the subordinates had handed out food.

Pretending to be deeply engrossed in his soup, Mona tried to hear for any chatter. Occasionally, he could here murmurs like the first day after the arena, but today there was nothing. This was his only method of learning more about the prison, and at least it was somewhat entertaining too. But given he didn't know how Cross or the others would react if he tried to strike up a conversation now, let alone the elusive party involved, he could only drain his bowl quietly.

It could use some more salt.

He threw the last clump of vegetables into his mouth and got up. Cross as before took him to his room, shutting the door behind him.

Mona took a deep breath. He felt the Aura wisps inside of his core, all of them wiggling in that amazing space. While he still went into a daze from time to time cultivating the aura technique, he was able to make good progress so far. Taking a quick bath, and refreshing his clothes with the bucket, he got himself into a cross-legged position. For the rest of the night, he took in the aura of the air and sky, and added new strands into his Aura Heart.

*****

"Winter is coming."

Mona could feel the slight chill on his skin. The fabrics he had to call clothes weren't doing enough to keep him warm, so he wore the bandit clothing underneath, tucking in wherever he can to hide them from view. From the outside, it looked like he had nothing but his prison uniform on, without any hidden bulkiness to alert any staff or guards what he was up to. Too bad he couldn't cover the window with anything, so the room continued to grow colder.

It wasn't until a little later that Mona heard the bang on his door. He got out from within his sparse blanket and stood at the ready. Cross took one look at him, rather long, before beginning to speak.

"Lucky news, Purple Eyes. The General... he's letting you go to the library. Bring that book with you and return it."

Mona realized at once he would have to give back that book.

The hidden chants. I haven't been able to decipher them yet.

His mood soured, but he tried to hide it. He went to the side of his bed, pulled out the book “Onas Rise and Fall: A Summary,” and followed Cross.

The path was familiar, besides the slight chill filling the hallways. A few extra torches were put up to help fight the cloudiness outside. When the highs shifted to winter, Heron's sun was at its peak. Peak in the sense it was right above the sky compared to the other stars. However, that didn't mean it was spatially close to the planet, but rather that all the suns in the trinary were further away than ever before. The winds would first come, then the chill, then foggy days, light rain, before light snow. Although the Onas continent was more northern than the others on the planet, Steel was located a fair ways south, and so it rarely received much snow. But the chill was still agonizing nonetheless, especially in this prison.

At this point the empire must have completely taken over Steel.

Mona thought this to himself. The war was likely already over, and the eagle heads were largely consolidating the lands while taking care of any secondary concerns. He couldn't hope for the fantasy of the other powers doing anything. While they did have a common enemy, unified action would take time. And only the gods knew if that would be their undoing.

Shaking his head clear of these thoughts, Mona returned back to reality. He was no longer a noble, and power structures, at least for now, no longer involved him. He looked forward to the library, seeing the heavy doors not far away.

Stepping in, Mona didn't see the old lady that sat there before. While a few staffers were milling about, checking books, they didn't stop to say anything to the two. Except for a nod of acknowledgement to Cross, the two were allowed to climb the stairs. The stairway wasn't yet cleaned yet; the layer of dust was still there.

Crossing through the first floor, Mona didn't see anyone around. It was largely barren. Cross, reluctant to speak, gestured for Mona to look through the first floor. His interest piqued, he left for the nearest bookshelf, looking for books he could find.

It was a dead end. If the books on the second floor could barely satisfy him with the history text, the books on the first had half-written aura techniques, methods flimsier if not more dangerous than the basics the Faulkners gave, or diaries of notable commoners. He did take his time to flip through the book, wondering if he could find something of value here, but none of the words he skimmed gave him that resonant feeling the history text did.

Looking around, Mona realized he was in a blindspot of the library. While Cross could see him, the guard couldn't see what Mona was doing with his hands. An idea came to him.

He pretended to look at a bookshelf right before him, his eyes looking down. Those purple pupils were poring over the history textbook, turning to the last chapter.

Maybe I don't need the entire book. Maybe... I just need this last chapter. And it'll work. Let's try.

Ripping a book was like a sin to him. But he was in a personal hell of his own. And at the end of his life, will wronging the Faulkners hurt him all that much? That were already planning his servitude, he couldn't feel anything but apathy for these bastards.

Ever so carefully he ripped on a single page, taking his time to reduce the sound of the paper. While the book was old, the bindings were still strong, and so it took some time. Then, as if practiced, he shuffled along the bookshelf, as if he just found another book to look at. He hummed a quiet hmm to give off the idea he was just checking out a book.

The second page came slightly easier. And the third. Page by page, step by sidestep, Mona finally rigged the whole book free of its final chapter, the "Chapter of Armageddon" tightly held in his hands. His heart was uneasy, and his breath quickened, at the thought of what he had done. Before taking too long, he shuffled over again.

"This one looks interesting!~"

Mona pretended to be reading a heavy book, making sure the sound of eventually putting the book back hit the shelf. He didn't know if Cross was using his Aura all the time, but it never hurt to be certain.

Mona flipped to the front of the history textbook, removing the table of contents. If anyone was to look at this book in the future, they may notice the missing chapter, and that could hurt him. At last, he pinched at the little scraps of paper, left from the ripping, picking them up and folding them in with the content sheet. He folded the unneeded page in half twice after piling the scraps on it, then took the folded paper and chapter of chants and hid them under his bandit clothing. It was wise to wear them, not just for the cold.

Then, Mona ran to Cross, stopping right in front of him. He felt nervous earlier, and came up with the best idea he could.

The man flinched for a moment, before staring down at the "heaving" young man.

"...Why did you dash over here?"

"I... I didn't find any book worth looking here, and I wasn't sure if I would have enough time. Let's go to the second floor."

Come on. Come on. Believe it.

The two looked at each other, Mona inwardly pleading while trying to keep his eyes from revealing the truth, and Cross squinting at him, his brows crossed to the max.

Cross shook his head.

...What? I should have known something was going to happen. Just my luck.

Cross turned around, then spoke again, a bit more stern than usual.

"...Let's go."

Mona followed along, pretending the book in his hand was still intact, and the Chapter of Armageddon wasn't hidden in between his clothes. The stairs creaked as they climbed, and just as before, they reached the second stop.

The door to the military wing was still shut tight. The guards he saw the first time he was here were standing here, still surveying the room. Most of them aligned near the military wing's door, checking individual staffers as they entered and existed. Whatever was behind that door must be truly valuable. But it was out of reach, so Mona returned to the other shelves.

"Return the book to the shelf, get a new one, and come back. Or just leave the book in the shelf. Hurry up."

Cross was still stern after the stunt Mona pulled earlier. He was caught off guard by the sudden jolt, and could've been knocked unconscious or worse. He thought he might really getting too lax with this captive, and that's why he tried something. Thus, he inwardly decided to return to before; he couldn't trust Purple Eyes wouldn't try something else again.

Mona first took steps to return the book to the shelf from before. The book slid in just fine into the empty slot, even though a chunk of the book was missing. No one would be able to tell a chapter was taken, at least, not easily. For a moment Mona thought of picking a random book to help hide the chapter he had hidden, but threw out that idea. He didn't know if Cross would inspect the next book he got. It'd be over for him if the ripped chapter fell out.

The young man began to genuinely look at the shelves this time, ignoring the fighting methods that filled the shelves. He had the basics down just fine, and they should be enough in the eyes of his "buyer." Anything more would get him unwanted attention. He wasn't in the mood for fiction novels scattered here either, or books on other topics.

His mind was clear: find another "Chapter." It could be anywhere. Or maybe not even here at all. Mona felt stumped. Even if he had come here at dawn, if he checked every book here, he was certain he would run out of time midway through. Feeling a connection with the history book, he first decided to check history.

Nothing.

Then he tried ancient books and dusty covers.

Nothing.

He even tried checking any damaged or marked books.

Nothing came to him. He skimmed each one, but he didn't feel the familiar tug in his mind. He sighed. Then something caught his eye.

"How... peculiar."

He walked past a few shelves, and pulled out a book. It was a journal, bound in the hide of some creature. Whetter feathers decorated the cover. The title read "Flora and Fauna: A Simple Compendium." It felt light and soothing to the touch. The book contained drawings and descriptions of life all over Onas, in its myriad forms. But that wasn't what caught his eyes.

It was the eyes of the drawing that mimicked reading the book on the cover. While the art was strange in its own way, the figure had special eyes.

A deep purple, like his own.

Curiosity rose up in him again, Mona took this book in hand, careful not to bend the feathers. After sufficient time, whetter feathers could snap easily.

Mona came in front of Cross, book in hand. The sunlight of Maget creating a soft glow on his outline. Cross didn't miss the details of the book, and took a short moment to look at the two pairs of colored pupils before focusing again on Mona as a whole.

"Alright, Purple Eyes. Let's go."

He didn't say anything else, waited for Mona to go first, and simply began walking down the stairs after his charge. The two returned to their routine, going down both flights before finally leaving the library.

They made their way to the mess hall in relative silence. Mona repositioned the book, hiding the book's cover with his body to help minimize any attention it may give him. While avoiding attention backfired in connecting with the other prisoners, it did help minimize his existence in the eyes of the guard staff.

Standing in front of the canteen, shouts could be heard. By the movement and energy of the captives already inside, there was something going on. The two entered right as something slammed into the floor.

A bowl, cracking into splinters.

....Not again.