The warrior of ashes: Tales of the chaos Chapter 2: chapter 1: The all-seeing blind man

Read chapter 2 of The warrior of ashes: Tales of the chaos by GilbertDiatta on NovelPedia.

"It is a very strange request…" The man had remained standing, motionless, long after his interlocutor had ascended and evaporated, as if her essence had become too heavy, too inconsistent for this place. It was an unusual phenomenon, yet the man seemed troubled not by this departure, but by the words the young woman—who had been with him just a moment ago (if the term " moment " even exists in this world)—had left behind before leaving. "Strange, very strange." The man repeated these words in his deep and melodic voice, which was quite peculiar, given that the very existence of this individual and the place where he moved seemed to defy the impossible. It would certainly be difficult to describe the surroundings in a natural way; indeed, the visual concept of spatial perception did not seem to apply here. For the simple and good reason that space did not exist in this place. No, it would be more accurate to say that space did not follow physical or material logic. There was nothing tangible, nothing palpable, and it existed in disproportionate scales that reached down to the subatomic level. Yes, nothing could exist here—nothing in shape or in color. Yet, more than being seen, an environment could be perceived, and instinctively, the answer as to why revealed itself. This place is a conceptual dimension, a space of primary ideas and notions that intertwined and gathered at this point. Thus, it is not through vision but through the representation of this place that one could describe it. And so, a floor of white stone slabs is represented, in a circular shape, or at least carrying the idea of a circular shape. All around the room, in a most bizarre display, a massive hurricane swirled, serving as both wall and boundary. The hurricane in question seemed limitless, extending far below the platform and high above it, composed of a myriad of colored cords, each different from the next, moving up and down with infernal velocity. Yet, despite this seemingly violent phenomenon, a relative calm reigned around the man standing with his back turned in the middle of the platform. He wore a long midnight-blue boubou that trailed to the floor, adorned with white patterns representing complex line diagrams and golden embroidery. Hanging from the sky-blue fabric belt cinched around his waist, as well as on each of his wrists and his neck, were amulets and gris-gris composed mostly of white cowrie shells. His complexion was black, like chocolate, and his black hair, streaked with gray, was styled in a simple two-tone shave. His presence in such a place was unusual, for nothing living should be able to exist there. Yet, hearing him mutter to himself, one could hardly doubt his status as a living being… human , if not humanoid. Thus, a simple conclusion imposed itself: he, too, was a concept. A living concept. The man in the boubou, hands behind his back, walked with slow and steady steps, even if it was difficult to see any progression in his movement. Around him, the hurricane of lines now hummed loudly, like a boat engine, making a low and threatening noise as he moved. The man suddenly raised his right hand, making the cowries on his wrist click like bells, and the vortex calmed instantly. The colored cords composing the hurricane continued to move up and down, but with great slowness, as if in slow motion. The man kept his hand raised, fist clenched, and continued to whisper to himself. "It is the first time I have seen such an evolution in the infinity of alternate universes. It is true that this version of her is the only one in all reality capable of speaking to me, but she is, above all, the only one to ask for such a thing. Very strange. She is not supposed to think or react this way…" The man paused for a moment of reflection, as if putting his thoughts in order. Then, slowly, he moved his left hand from behind his back and raised it as well. The hurricane froze instantly, the lines stopped mid-motion. The m