I reached into my storage ring and pulled out all five items the Architect had given me - the pendant, the shard, the lens, the ring, and the shield relic. They clinked softly as I arranged them on the bone floor between us.
"Master," I said, gesturing to the collection, "we should get them from Zamir too."
"Wait!" The Architect suddenly spoke up, his voice carrying an urgency that cut through his earlier defeated tone.
"There’s nothing wrong with that boy’s things. Both the sword, the essence, and the codex - all of them are things from your own world. I didn’t do anything to them."
I frowned, studying his hooded form. "Why should we believe you?"
So only my ’gifts’ were cursed, huh. I cursed inwardly, wondering why he only targeted me.
The Architect shrugged with what seemed like genuine indifference. "It’s your choice to believe or not, but I spoke the truth. And I also didn’t lie about the ring and the shield relic I gave you. They really work like that. As for the pendant, it only senses malice, not corrupt energy or the Abyss - that’s what I lied about."
I nodded slowly, processing this. "So you tampered with the lens and probability shard then?"
The Architect nodded. "I changed the lens’s functions so that I could control my own emotions within it and manipulate my own words in it."
That aligned perfectly with what I’d experienced. When he lied, the lens indicated it was true.
"As for the shard," he continued, "I really didn’t do anything to it either. However, it’s from the Abyss. I got it as a gift from someone. I myself don’t know its full capabilities. And so, I told you what I knew about it."
I felt my suspicion deepen.
The way he was volunteering information so readily, being so forthcoming about his deceptions - it felt wrong.
I think he’s revealing these small deceptions to hide the larger ones.
And it had something to do with the probability shard. Or the ring? Or the shield relic, since it was the least suspicious?
Alas, the lie detection chances are limited. Or else, I wouldn’t have to wrack my brain .
(Let me check them,) I heard Master’s voice and glanced at him. (You give the other two to him.)
"Then, fix them." I pushed the lens and probability shard toward him. "And take a good look at the shard. Maybe you can discover something new."
The architect nodded, and those two items flew toward him.
I decided to take advantage of the distraction to gather more information. Quietly activating Narrative Glimpse, I waited for the familiar translucent interface to materialize in my vision.
The window appeared, but something was wrong. Where normally I’d see clear text and detailed scenarios, there was only:
A single name shrouded in question marks, with only the "Ongoing" status visible.
I quickly opened the scenario window, hoping for more clarity, but it was equally unhelpful - filled entirely with question marks except for that same "Ongoing" designation.
’Still nothing, huh,’ I muttered inwardly, closing the interfaces with a mental command.
I used it after we met with the architect at the beginning. It was also then.
Hmm... Should I give it a try?
Nah. Let’s not do it.
I didn’t dare use Character Insight in the presence of these two powerhouses. While I wasn’t worried about Virion discovering my abilities, the same couldn’t be said for the Architect. Who knew what kind of powers he possessed? Perhaps he could sense the skill, or worse, trace its origin back to me, and... discover the system’s existence.
Though I had been watching him carefully just now, and he hadn’t reacted at all to my use of Narrative Glimpse, which was reassuring.
Virion’s voice drew my attention back to the present.
(I will keep them with myself,) he said through the mental link, (and give you better ones later.)
(Yes, thank you, Master.) I smiled inwardly, relief washing over me. (Did you find something wrong with them?)
(No,) came his reply, laden with implication, (and that’s why I am keeping them with me.)
I understood immediately. If Virion, with all his ancient knowledge and power, couldn’t detect anything wrong with the items, then whatever the Architect had done was far more subtle and dangerous than simple curses or tracking spells. It was better to keep them safely contained until we could study them properly.
"Here, I’m finished," the Architect said, his voice cutting through our mental exchange.
The lens and probability shard floated back toward us, but instead of returning to me, they drifted into Virion’s coils, where they disappeared entirely - presumably into whatever dimensional storage space my master maintained.
"Now then," the Architect continued, straightening slightly within his shadow cloak, "about that promise..."
Virion’s emerald eyes fixed on the Architect with cold, calculating intensity. I could feel the temperature in the chamber drop as ancient power began to gather around my master’s form. But before he could speak, I quickly reached out through our mental link.
(Master, wait,) I said urgently. (Something’s wrong here.)
The pieces had been clicking together in my mind throughout this entire exchange, and now the pattern was becoming clear.
(He wants to die,) I continued, my thoughts racing. (Think about it - why would a master manipulator who’s survived for over a million years suddenly become so desperate for death? There has to be a reason.)
Several possibilities flashed through my mind, each more troubling than the last:
Maybe he had a way to resurrect after death, possibly returning to the Abyss where he could report everything he’d learned about us and our world.
Or perhaps this wasn’t even his true form - just a clone or avatar of someone more powerful, and destroying it would simply send all the information back to the original. That would be too terrifying.
There were other scenarios, too.
He could have prepared a contingency spell that would activate upon his death, cursing us or marking us for the other Overseers to track. Or maybe his death would trigger the collapse of this entire dimensional space, taking us with him in a final act of spite, renew the dimensional scar, or...
Even send us to the abyss.