Chapter 104
Chapter 104
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 104
Chapter Title: The Monolith
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It was a blizzard. The various sects would no doubt claim it was divine wrath from an angry god.
But it was merely a natural phenomenon. Kalligo brushed the snow off a tree branch and pressed onward.
It had been five days since he began using John's note as his guide. The destination should be in sight soon.
He took a sip from his canteen and scanned the surroundings.
"Is that it?"
A massive stone came into view. He approached it. Up close, it was so enormous he had to tilt his head back to see the top.
The Monolith. That's what John had called this rock.
It was peculiar. Even in this remote area, how had no one discovered such a gigantic structure?
He circled the stone. Who had erected this colossal thing, and why? It might be possible with a Giant Soldier, but it wouldn't make financial sense.
Kalligo placed a hand on the stone and surveyed the area. According to John's note, there should be a cabin nearby.
He doubted there would be one in the heart of the forest, especially in a place where anything could pop out.
Using the stone as a starting point, he began his search. He continued until the sun hovering at the treetops vanished beyond the ridge.
"John, this isn't the end of it, is it?"
Kalligo leaned against a tree. There wasn't so much as a wooden plank, let alone a cabin.
Logically, he should call it quits. Shred the note from the unknown John, scatter it on the ground, and head to reliable Shield.
But his feet wouldn't move. John's words had ignited his intellectual curiosity.
He wouldn't have budged if tempted with money, fame, or power.
"You can glimpse the secrets of the world."
Those words on the note held him fast.
He gazed at the distant stone pillar, then took one final step, thinking this would be it.
He would search around the Monolith again. As he approached the pillar relying on his lantern, it happened.
"John. My dear prophet."
There was a cabin. Right next to the Monolith, no less. During the day, it had been a dense thicket of trees.
Was it magic? Or some unknown power? Either way, it was welcome.
He knocked on the cabin door. Excitement mixed with danger—what might come bursting out?—stirred him.
"It's open."
The voice came from inside. Male, young-sounding. He opened the door without hesitation.
"It's freezing out there, isn't it? Warm yourself by the fire first."
The man looked just past twenty. He bustled over to the cupboard in thick brown clothes.
Kalligo eyed the interior before heading to the brazier in the center. Crackling firewood spewed smoke.
With this much smoke, the whole house should be thick with it.
"No need to worry about that in this house."
The man said. He smiled, but it wasn't particularly cheerful.
He'd read his mind. Kalligo hadn't shown emotion on his face or stared at the smoke long, yet the man mentioned it as if he knew everything.
"The water's boiling right on time."
The man poured water from the kettle into a teacup.
"Here."
As Kalligo took the cup, the man's smile deepened. It was the tea he often drank. The cup was his preferred shape too. He even knew his tastes?
"Don't overthink it. I just know."
"Are you John?"
"No, that's not my name."
"What should I call you? A proper title makes conversation easier."
"I've long forgotten my name. Why don't you give me one, Kalligo?"
"You know my name."
"I should know the name of a visitor."
"This is delightful. Are you a prophet like John?"
"A prophet. I wish I had that power. The ability to see the future. But you know, after this endless routine, I can't help thinking: does the future even exist?"
The man stood. He took a cloth from the wall and sat back down.
What was he doing? As Kalligo lifted his teacup wondering, there was a loud bang from the window.
He whipped his head around, spilling a bit of tea. His hand burned red. A minor scald.
"Use this to wipe it."
The man handed him the cloth. Kalligo narrowed his eyes and took it.
"Did you know this would happen?"
He asked while wiping the tea. The man had anticipated and acted before the incident. No coincidence.
"It's a matter of probability. Sometimes there's noise outside, sometimes not. Sometimes you spill tea, Kalligo, sometimes not. So I prepared a cloth in advance."
"Strange words. Isn't that prophecy?"
"No. This isn't prophecy. It's just something I've learned from long-repeated events. Again, it's probability."
"Long-repeated events?"
Kalligo set down his teacup. What had repeated?
"You look deep in thought. You always make that face when you find this place. Not always, but at this point, you always furrow your brow."
"You're speaking oddly. This is my first time here."
"You said that last time. And the time before. And before that. Of course, before that too."
"Not a very funny joke."
"It's not supposed to be."
"Don't you have a more plausible story? I came here on John's recommendation, lured by talk of glimpsing the world's secrets. I was thrilled finding this cabin—it appeared out of nowhere. But the more we talk, the more disappointed I get. I like wordplay, but not now."
"Is that so?"
The man stood. He took his teacup and walked to the window. The snow, which had stopped, began falling again.
"Even the best scenery gets boring if you stare too long. The greatest movies, well-made dramas, games—they all lose appeal when repeated."
Three unfamiliar words in the man's speech: movie, drama, game. Odd pronunciations. Foreign language. Maybe not words, but sentences.
"They're just entertainment. Not sentences or anything. Don't dwell on it."
Mind-reading again. The conversation grew uncomfortable. No exchange of information. He hated one-sided talks.
"There was a time—calling it 'past' is funny, though—when our meetings weren't so dull. I poured out my passion then. Really gave it my all. How this world ticks, how to unravel it, what it takes to change it—we had heated debates, you and I."
"I've said it plenty: this is our first meeting."
"I know. To you now, Kalligo, I'm a stranger. Explaining the same unchanging thing over and over is heartbreaking. Better to know nothing. Better yet, die. But neither's possible for me."
The man turned. A knife gleamed in his hand.
When had he picked it up? Should he be on guard? Take a defensive stance? As wariness rose, the man mockingly drew the blade to his own throat.
No time to stop him. It felt so natural, danger didn't even register. Just as "Wait" reached his tongue—
"It's fine."
The knife piercing the man's throat was gone.
No illusion. He'd been stabbed, blood had flowed—he'd confirmed it. Yet the man stood unharmed, as if nothing happened.
"I lose track of how many times. You taught me yourself: better to show than tell, Kalligo."
"Magic? Sleight of hand?"
"Whatever you think, it's not my place to interfere."
"I clearly saw the knife in your throat."
"Yes. Your eyesight's perfect, Kalligo. You're not mad. You saw right, and you're seeing right now."
"Then what was that? Where's the knife, the wound?"
"It reverted. This room, me—everything. Nothing changes."
The man glanced at the wall. A clock hung there. Tick-tock, the second hand moved.
"Time to part soon. I'd rather skip the meaningless and just have tea, but you'll refuse. You want explanations, information."
His finger pointed at the clock.
"Same as always. Another round of this pointless game that never changes. You want the world's truth? That clock, time. Where does the concept of one second come from?"
"One second?"
"That second hand. Tick, tick, tick. Who first set this interval? You know some: the ancient Huygens pendulum swing as one second. But is that true? Ask a child who's never seen such a precise clock. Surprisingly, they'll know."
Kalligo stared at the clock. The familiar felt alien.
"What about m? cm, km? kg, t—who made these units? Who, that they're used across this vast land? Language? What do you make of transcending breeds with a common tongue? Spare me divine providence or blessings. I know you, Kalligo—you're not one for that."
"An designer?"
"That intellect, hitting the mark instantly—I'm jealous. But nothing changes. Our talks repeat, as always."
He gathered his thoughts quickly.
"Even if there's an Intelligent Designer, separate from gods—what difference does it make?"
"You'll see soon. How shallow, unstable this world is. And time passes, we'll have this same talk in this cabin again."
The man pointed to the door.
"Time's up. Out you go."
"I have more questions."
"I know. Still, time to go."
He didn't rise.
Repetition, design. His mind labored to unpack the implications.
He needed more info. Couldn't let this man go.
"Bring a gift next time. Coming empty-handed every time is bittersweet."
With those words, everything vanished. Man, cabin, even the massive Monolith.
He sat on muddied snow-soaked ground.
He couldn't stand for a while. A dream? Temporary madness?
Hallucinogenic plants nearby? Or John's trap, wasting his time?
Amid endless questions, tick-tock clock sounds echoed.
Kalligo looked at his hand. Reddened skin from spilled tea.
"So that's it."
He touched it. It stung. No dream, no illusion. Real.
He glared at the cabin's former spot, then stood, packed, and turned.
Urgent business awaited. Handle that, then investigate the "Cabin Man."
Lander crossed his mind. The one who derailed John's prophecy. Repetition, design, prophecy.
He smirked. Whatever it was, it thrilled him to madness.