The Zombie Knight

Chapter Two Hundred Thirty: 'Thine ally, thine enemy...'

Of late, Emiliana Elroy was even more uncomfortable than usual. She tried to remain focused on her training, but it

was difficult. Ever since she had caught wind of another great Eloan war, her mind had been clouded with worry almost all the time.

She'd first heard of it here in the Library, in whispers among Gohvis' followers. And when she'd asked Hector about it via her Shard of the Dry God, he indeed confirmed it.

Her worries had gotten so bad that she had started relegating them to a constant place in the back of her mind. That didn't seem like the proper or healthiest solution to her, but at least it allowed her to think about other things simultaneously.

Sort of.

Too often, her other thoughts twisted back toward those in one way or another. She wondered if this training of hers would be of any use to anyone other than herself, one day.

It didn't help that Gohvis had begun behaving a bit differently lately, as well. His purported reason for even bringing her here to the Library of Erudia in the first place was to 'study their link,' the one that she had apparently inherited from Agam Elroy, but Gohvis had hardly been paying attention to her in the last few weeks.

She didn't necessarily mind that part so much, especially because her training had already progressed enough so that she was no longer concerned that her mutation power would go out of control, but still. She couldn't help growing more and more curious about what he was up to.

From the way Hector had described this Second Continental War, it sounded like Abolish was intimately involved. And Gohvis was one of Abolish's most notorious members. So... was he going to participate in it, too?

Didn't seem like it so far, but maybe he was just preparing or something. She was a little afraid to ask.

Scratch that. She was extremely afraid to ask. No doubt, Gohvis would wonder how she had come to learn of the war in the first place. Maybe he would believe that she'd learned about it from his followers, but she didn't want to risk it.

Chergoa, at least, had talked to her at length about the war, offering all manner of rationale and reassurances. Which Emiliana appreciated. Greatly, in fact. The reaper was good at spinning a tale.

'I'm telling you, this is actually perfect,' Chergoa told her in the echo of privacy. 'I mean, obviously, it's not so great there's a war going on, but you and I are in an ideal position. We're safely tucked away behind enemy lines while still having a means of communication with our allies.'

'...You're saying we can spy on Abolish from here?' said Emiliana, unable to conceal the doubt in her mental tone.

'Pretty much, yeah,' said Chergoa.

'But what if Gohvis doesn't even get involved in the war?'

The reaper allowed a beat to pass. 'Well. Yeah. I mean, that would be a bit of a problem for us.'

Emiliana was somehow not surprised by that response.

'But on the bright side,' the reaper went on, 'that would probably be even better for our allies, since it would mean that the Monster of the East isn't one of their opponents.'

Well, that was true, Emiliana supposed. Above all, that was the thing the she wanted to avoid most: her father trying to confront Gohvis. After all that he had been through? She couldn't imagine that would result in anything good.

Truthfully, though, a part of her felt as if that meeting was inevitable. She doubted her father would ever give up looking for her. And he was immortal. It might take him many years to find her all the way out here on the dead continent of Exoltha, but she had a terrifying degree of confidence that he would do it eventually.

And when that day came, she wondered if there would be anything she could do save her father's life. Perhaps, she thought, Gohvis might spare him in order to avoid making her hate him. Was that possible?

It was hard to tell anything when it came to what Gohvis was thinking. And it seemed the peak of hubris to assume that he would place that much value upon her feelings.

Unless she tried to win his affection before then.

Which was a similarly terrifying notion. Gohvis did seem to have a certain sense of humanity behind that colossally intimidating exterior, but she was still far from convinced that he wasn't still just as monstrous deep down as his reputation implied. Sure, he was more academically minded than she might have expected, having taken up the charge as the Keeper of the Library, but that didn't mean he was genuinely benevolent.

The Mad Demon was famously very scholarly, too, and she didn't think that made him any more humane or empathetic, either.

She knew it wasn't quite that simple, though. Gohvis had helped her get a handle on her power. Even if he had kidnapped her, it also wasn't an exaggeration to say that he had saved her life.

Ugh.

What a confusing problem. To feel indebted to someone like him.

Ibai Blackburn had also been acting rather curiously of late. Reading and writing seemed to be all he was ever doing. Apparently, Chergoa had to keep reminding him to eat. His odd behavior had even begun drawing Gohvis' attention. She occasionally saw the Monster looking over his work.

She of course had to ask Ibai about it when Gohvis wasn't around.

"Oh, he was just proofreading for me!" said Ibai. "Real generous offer, huh?"

"I... see," said Emiliana.

"He's ruthless, though, in his criticism. Doesn't hold back at all. Takes grammar very seriously, that guy. It's super helpful, though. Wouldn't want my readers getting confused."

"...You have readers?"

"Well, not yet, but one day, maybe. You never know. My work could become posthumously famous! Happens all the time! Wouldn't that be something?!"

And as was often the case since her arrival in this place, Emiliana found herself lost for words.

But Gohvis' interest in Ibai's work also made her curious to read a bit of it for herself. And Ibai was certainly eager to give her the chance.

Only then did she realize that she had no idea what she'd gotten herself into.

There was a small mountain of volumes to choose from. Ibai had only started doing this a few weeks ago, but there were already over twenty books sitting there on the floor by his desk. Emiliana had thought they belonged to the Library, since Ibai's quaint little desk was already surrounded by bookshelves, but no. Those were apparently all his creations.

They were all handwritten, of course. And all the words were so hastily scrawled that Emiliana struggled to read them.

"I want your honest opinion!" said Ibai. "Don't try to spare my feelings! I'll never improve, otherwise!"

Even as he spoke, Emiliana could see his hand still scribbling.

And abruptly, she felt compelled to ask, "Have you eaten today?"

"Hmm? Oh. Yeah, I think so. If not, I'll get something later."

She frowned. She'd noticed that he was looking a little thinner, recently. And of course, this whole writing craze had only started after Ibai received the news of his father's death.

It was no mystery why Chergoa was constantly fussing over him.

And the reaper was right there next to Emiliana, so when she heard that, she demanded that Ibai take another break and go to the refectory that very moment.

Ibai laughed at her insistence, but he did as she said.

Emiliana intended to follow, but first, she lingered a bit longer in Ibai's tiny, makeshift office. She had no idea how he could work in such conditions. So cramped. And aside from all the books and stacks of writing materials, all he had in here was a small table with a lamp on it--both of which looked so ancient that they could fall apart at any time.

She wondered if there was anything she could do to improve his circumstances. Maybe she could talk to Gohvis about finding him a more spacious work room. Or a computer, at least. Were there even any in the Library? She hadn't seen one, but she'd learned that this building was still hiding plenty of secrets when Gohvis had taken her on that eerie visit to the Weaver.

Which was another thing that had been on her mind a lot: the conversation she'd had with that... creature.

Even now, she still wasn't sure she understood who or what the Weaver actually was. Emiliana had a vague idea that the Weaver was simply an old mutation user whose mutations had sadly debilitated her to an unrecognizable point, but it also seemed clear that there was more to her than just that. Assuming that part was even correct.

And if that were true, then the implications of it were quite incredible. For one thing, it would mean that mutations could allow for the development of telepathy.

Emiliana was a bit torn. A part of her would've liked to speak to the Weaver again and perhaps learn something more about mutation. Or telepathy. Or Agam Elroy, maybe. But another part of her wanted to stay as far away from her as possible.

Either way, it hardly mattered, because Gohvis wouldn't let her go near the Weaver without him there to chaperone, and he was barely around enough for Emiliana to even ask. Sure, she could try to go and see the Weaver on her own--without his permission--but she had a disturbing feeling that he would find out about it.

Maybe she didn't have to be so afraid of that possibility, though. He obviously cared about keeping her safe, at least for the purpose of continuing his research, so she doubted that he would hurt her.

But still. He was too terrifying. Even if he wouldn't physically harm her, Emiliana didn't wish to anger him and test how 'creative' he might become with his punishment thereafter.

All this business about Agam Elroy had turned him into a constant point of curiosity, though. Especially with regard to the idea that the Weaver had floated to her during their conversation.

The idea that she might somehow harbor Agam's memories in her mind. The idea that Agam himself had been able to remember things he had never personally done or seen before.

Emiliana had given that notion a lot of thought lately, too.

It was a strange thing to attempt, but she had been trying to search her memories for anything that seemed odd. Nothing in particular stood out to her, though, and she didn't even know if she was going about it in the right way. Was there some optimal technique for combing through one's own memories?

She'd started with the earliest thing that she could recall. It was of her mother walking with her through the family's courtyard, showing her the madega tree and talking to her and her two older siblings, Cisco and Gema.

She didn't exactly remember what her mother had said, but it was something about her ancestors, about the importance of that tree and others like it to their family.

Mainly, however, she remembered the tree itself. The huge, gangly branches. Those tiny blue-gray leaves. Endlessly dripping in the rain.

From there, Emiliana had wanted to go through her memories in chronological order, but she found it incredibly difficult to do that. Determining precisely when something had happened was surprisingly... impossible, she felt. Sure, she had a vague idea of how old she'd been in each memory, but actually sorting them all out? No way.

That little realization had caused her some amount of worry. She began to think that might be evidence of the Weaver having been correct about her memories--or worse, evidence of something else being wrong with her mind--but when she'd talked to Chergoa about it, the reaper had told her it was perfectly normal.

And it had taken some convincing over the course of multiple conversations, but Emiliana eventually believed her.

The memory exercise did have one effect for her, however. It made her realize how common madega trees were in her memory. The timeline might've been a bit murky, but those trees were everywhere along it.

Granted, there were many madegas in Aguarey, where she'd spent her entire life until very recently, so it wasn't like them popping up in her memories was particularly odd or inexplicable--especially given her passion for biology. Plants and animals had always interested her.

Personally, sunflowers were more her thing, but the madegas could be visually striking in their own ways. In fact, one of the more interesting things about them was the subtle differences that they could have with one another. The tree in the Elroy Estate, for example, had very small, fine leaves that looked almost like feathers, whereas the Great Madega Tree at the heart of Aguarey had leaves as big as her head.

There were all sorts of variants among them. Darker- or lighter-colored bark. More gnarled-looking branches. Some would flower in the spring despite the neverending rain, and some might even bear fruit.

As far as she was aware, there were mainly just two things that distinguished a madega tree. The teal-colored leaves and the fact that they seemingly couldn't drown no matter how much rain fell. Their gigantic, sprawling root systems extended for miles beneath Aguarey and beyond, and the constant flooding below the giant platform on which the city was built never bothered them in the slightest.

It was no wonder why her kin had always placed such reverence on them. She even recalled her father once mentioning that their ancestors used to believe the madegas harbored the souls of their brethren who had passed on. Or at least, the ones who had lived honorably.

Remembering all of that had made her feel even more homesick than usual. She wondered if she would ever see Aguarey again. A rather strong part of her didn't think so.

Since then, she had been looking through the Library for a book about madega trees or perhaps about Lhutwë, but she had yet to find either in the literal mountain of books here.

Gohvis probably would have been able to help her find a book like that, but she didn't want to get into the habit of relying on him for book requests. It might make him more interested in what other books she was reading, and she most definitely did not want that.

The only useful thing that she could do here besides train was seek out ancient tomes regarding subjects that Hector Goffe expressed an interest in. He was with her family. He was helping them stay safe. So helping him meant helping them. It wasn't a difficult decision.

She had a terrible feeling, though, that Gohvis might realize that she was aiding someone outside the Library if he started paying close attention to her reading list. She didn't know how Gohvis might realize this, exactly, but it still concerned her, nonetheless. Maybe it was just paranoia on her part. In fact, she hoped it was.

Because no matter what happened, she wasn't going to stop doing it.

It was the only thing that made her feel valuable, like she wasn't just being a burden on everyone else.

Plus, Hector's chosen topics were certainly... interesting. She never would've thought to search for books about lost treasure, but it was a good idea. And the volumes she found typically made for pretty compelling reads when motivated by the idea that she might be helping someone to discover where the treasure in question was today.

One of the books she'd found was titled The Magnificent Life and Magnificent Times of Unso the Magnificent, and needless to say, it had left an impression on her. It didn't even have a credits page or date of any sort, so there was no way to know for certain who wrote it or when; but after reading the entire thing, Emiliana harbored a rather strong suspicion that it had actually been written by Unso himself as a kind of self-congratulating autobiography.

From that perspective, Emiliana found the book hilarious, though not intentionally. It discussed the man's creative process, and it described ad nauseum how he came to develop each of his supposedly supernatural inventions. Those parts, Emiliana didn't fully understand--or even mostly understand, for that matter.

The exposition in that book was some of the most incredible she had ever seen. At first, she'd thought it was written by an actual child. In fact, she would have certainly dropped it before finishing the first chapter if Ibai hadn't recommended it to her beforehand.

How or why he had managed to make any further through that book, Emiliana had no idea, but regardless, as she'd continued reading, it gradually became clear that, no, these were not the words of a child. The word choice, spelling, sentence structure, punctuation, and capitalization were all over the place; and each chapter seemed to contain at least one rant about someone in Unso's life--usually a woman--who didn't understand him or had wronged him in some way.

But whenever the book got around to the inventions again, the author's technical expertise began to shine through. Even if Emiliana couldn't follow a lot of it, the sections where she could, she found sufficiently impressive.

It was like reading something that had been written by an absolute genius who had somehow never read a single book in his entire life.

Maybe that didn't make sense, but that was the impression that Emiliana had gotten, at least. And of course, books and literacy weren't nearly as common a thousand years ago, so perhaps it was possible. Emiliana just didn't understand how someone could become, of all things, an inventor without relying on any written knowledge for guidance.

And when she thought about it like that, she found the book a little sad, too. How much more brilliant might the man have been if he'd gotten a proper education?

But then she remembered the story at the end of the book about how Unso had once tried to seduce another man's wife with the power of his "allmytee intelekt," only to be chased out of town by the "ignerent pezentree."

She doubted that she would find a more entertaining book than that one for a good long while.

But in any event, here and now, she decided to grab a couple more of the books that Ibai had written before following him and Chergoa to the refectory.

She read while she walked, now able to divide her attention between the words on the page and the pathway in her upper peripheral vision. She was fully aware of the abnormality of this now, thanks to Hector bringing it up once before.

It was Focus. The "blessing" that Rasalased had referred to.

She'd been trying to discover more about blessings as well. In fact, that was perhaps at the top of her priorities now.

But such information was not easy to find. She'd tried to pick up every book she saw with "blessing" in the title, but it seemed to be an extremely common word among ancient tomes, especially religious texts. Most of them ended up being about moral philosophy or some such thing, and she was frequently disappointed to see that they had absolutely nothing to do with the subject she was actually interested in.

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Hector, however, had specifically asked her about a blessing called Domain, so she tried zeroing in on that word as well, and as a result, she had recently found a particularly dense volume of work called The Domain of Gods and Kings by Liam Larutin.

She didn't know why so many of these ancient authors seemed to have alliterative pen names, but she'd begun to think it must have been some sort of fashionable trend.

In any case, she was still trying to make her way through that book. It was absurdly verbose and difficult to wrap her head around, leaving her quickly exhausted each time she sat down to read it. She intended to keep trying, though.

From what little she was able to discern, the text seemed to be suggesting that physical space was somehow fundamentally different than was commonly understood, that there was no such thing as "emptiness" as far as physical reality was concerned.

Beyond that, though, she was lost. She could hardly even comprehend the sentences that were supposed to explain the justification for that claim. It was written in modern Mohssian, but sometimes, it sure didn't feel like it. Even with a damn dictionary next to her, reading that thing was like pulling teeth.

Which, so far, was one thing that she greatly appreciated about the book that was currently in her hands. It was comprehensible, at least. Ibai hadn't used tons of words that she barely understood.

Or any, for that matter.

Was this a children's book?

Hmm.

She hadn't expected that, but as she thought about it more, that made sense to her. Suddenly, she could very easily imagine Ibai writing stories for children.

This length, though. It was the size of a full novel. She wasn't quite sure how child-friendly that aspect of it was.

But it was certainly nice to read something like this for a change. With all the stuffy, impenetrable crap she had been sifting through lately, this felt like stepping out into a fresh breeze after spending weeks in a musty old basement.

She didn't notice any mistakes in grammar, either.

Hah, wait a second...

Ibai had mentioned Gohvis proofreading some of his work for him, hadn't he?

So did that mean... that the Monster of the East had actually proofread a children's novel?

Just thinking about that possibility amused Emiliana to no end. She'd have to ask Gohvis about that the next time she saw him.

This book, though, was actually quite lovely. The sentences were simple, but they flowed like water, setting up each scene and painting nice, quaint pictures for her in her mind.

In fact... maybe it was a little too lovely.

As she continued reading, she found herself increasingly enraptured by the text.

And she didn't fully understand why, either.

It was nice, yes, but there was nothing about it that was particularly speaking to her. The text didn't resonate with her like her favorite stories did. It was clearly just too child-oriented for her tastes.

And yet... there was something about it that she couldn't quite put her finger on. An indescribable feeling. A vaguely pleasant swelling in her chest and stomach. A kind of warmth. Enveloping her body as her eyes passed over the words.

She stopped walking in the middle of the corridor and looked up from the novel in order to watch Ibai and Chergoa proceeding on even farther ahead of her.

Ibai wrote this?

She didn't know what to think. What was the best way to describe--?

"Curious, isn't it?" came the deep and sudden double-voice of Gohvis from behind her.

And she flinched. She'd been trying to stop doing that, trying to get used him sneaking up on her all the time, but it sure wasn't easy. "W-what's curious?" she asked, turning around to face him.

If the Library's hallways weren't so abnormally tall, he would've had to hunch over. "Those books in your hands. You've been reading them, no? You must've noticed it, too."

What? She couldn't tell if he'd actually answered her question or if he was doing that annoying thing he often did where he would just ignore her and keep asking his own. "I've, uh... I've only just started reading this one," she said, holding up the volume in question.

"Mm. But could you not tell? There is something strange about it."

She blinked. "...Yes. I think so."

Gohvis' glowing red eyes moved to Ibai now, too, who almost out of sight. "The first known creative works of an aberration," he said.

"...You mentioned something like this before, didn't you?" said Emiliana.

Gohvis just looked at her.

"Is this why you expressed an interest in his writing?" she asked. "Because you suspected that he might be able to create something... abnormal?"

"Mm. Such a vague suspicion would make for a rather safe bet, as far as that man is concerned."

Emiliana supposed that was true. "...Is there some kind of historical precedent for books like this?" she asked.

"Books like what, exactly?" said Gohvis.

Was he toying with her, now? She didn't quite know how to articulate her feelings regarding Ibai's book, and it seemed like Gohvis could tell. "Um... hmm."

Gohvis began walking, which prompted Emiliana to follow. "Books of a 'peculiar impact' have indeed been known to exist for some centuries. Perhaps longer."

"Do you, um... know what makes them this way?" she said.

"Their authors, of course."

"No, I mean... what is it about their authors that causes this phenomenon?"

The Monster regarded her from the corner of his eye for a moment. "There is a suspicion that the first books ever written were like this."

It took her a second to realize that he'd ignored her question. Why the heck did he have to do that so much? It was really annoying. She wasn't even sure if she should ask another one, now.

"When writing was first invented," Gohvis continued, "it was regarded as a dark art, of sorts. For multiple reasons. The most popular of which was simply that writing, for the first time in history, devalued the importance of one's memory. Many regarded this as an affront against nature or their god, and wars were fought over it."

What in the world? She had a hard time imagining such a thing.

"One of the lesser known reasons, however, was because written works seemed to have an ability to change people. Sway them. Turn them from their tribe and their people."

"Are you saying that people in ancient times could do what Ibai is doing now?" said Emiliana.

"Not necessarily, but it is an interesting thought," said Gohvis. "So much knowledge has been lost over the Ages. Even with immortal beings supposedly guarding it. Would it not be nice to imagine that something once lost might have been found again?"

Emiliana didn't know what to say. As usual, she had a thousand questions that she couldn't articulate.

"How is your training progressing?" said Gohvis.

"Oh, um. Good, I think."

"Mm."

Was he waiting for her to ask something else? Argh.

"You are uneasy," said Gohvis. It was a statement, said with certitude.

Ah.

Hearing him say that made her even more so. She didn't see much use in trying to lie to him, though. "...I am. Yes."

"Why?"

Because there was a giant war going on in Eloa, right now? Obviously, she couldn't say that.

"For a time," said Gohvis, "you seemed to have grown more comfortable here. I assumed it was because your mastery of Sto had granted you some semblance of relief."

Oh, was he concerned she was struggling with it again? Hmm. She could lie, but... agh, that seemed like a terrible idea. What should she say, though?

Well.

There was always another truth she could rely on.

"I... miss my family," she said.

"Mm," was all Gohvis said. Again.

There was no obvious way to respond to that, so she didn't even try.

However, the Monster of the East decided to stop walking and look at her. "You will see them again in time."

She blinked at that, and her mouth hung open a little. "...I will?"

"Probably." And he resumed walking.

What in the world? She hurried to catch up again. "A-are you saying that you'll eventually return me to them?"

"Mm. Probably."

"Why?" said Emiliana. "Didn't you say that you needed to study the anomalous link between us?"

"Yes," said Gohvis. "And once that study is complete, I will not have much reason to keep you here."

She could hardly believe it. He was saying it so casually, like it was the most normal thing in the world to return a kidnapped prisoner to their family.

Well, maybe to him, it was.

"However," said Gohvis, "that will most likely be a very long time from now. Your mutations must grow significantly more before the link between us becomes clearer to me."

Ah...

That made sense. It was only after her power had manifested in the first place that she began seeing those "visions" of Gohvis. And that would also explain why he would be interested in assisting her in her training, as well.

A part of her had thought that his motivation in that respect could only have been empathy, that he must have had a humane side to him. But this made sense, too. Much more so, in fact.

It was scholarly interest.

Yes.

She shouldn't get it twisted, Emiliana thought.

And that thought spurred another into her mind.

She was reminded of the conversation she'd had with Gohvis regarding "the problem of humanity."

In it, Gohvis had described his worldview to her, at least in part, and explained his feelings regarding the rest of Abolish.

And it had all... mostly made sense to her, but there was one thing that had been bothering her, one thing that she had been trying to work through and find answers for on her own--or if not answers, then at least new questions through which to approach the same subject.

And she had the entire Library at her disposal. So in addition to all of her other reading, she had also been trying to find a text that addressed the issues that Gohvis had expressed to her. She just wanted something that could help clarify and support her own feelings.

Emiliana didn't know if she had succeeded in that goal yet, but she at least wanted to take a second crack at that conversation with Gohvis.

"There's something I've been meaning to ask you," she said. "A philosophical question."

Gohvis made no response, perhaps just waiting for her to elaborate.

"...You told me that the reason you side with Abolish is because you think that human beings are a problem by our very nature, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"And you said that the reason our nature is a problem is because of 'growth,' right?"

"Yes."

"And... you said that growth is a problem because of conflict. And conflict is--"

"No."

Emiliana stopped walking. "What?"

Gohvis stopped as well and turned to her. "I said that the human need for growth is a problem. And I said that growth requires conflict. But I did not say that growth is a problem because of conflict."

She blinked, rethinking what she'd been about to say. "Oh... then I think I've misunderstood what you were trying to tell me before."

"Mm." He began walking again.

She moved to catch up. Were they even going to the refectory now? That was where she had been headed, but now he was in the lead. "So--wait a minute. I thought you were saying that conflict is a problem because it requires instigation and that instigation is self-evidently a problem."

"No. Growth is what is self-evidently the problem," said Gohvis.

"That doesn't seem self-evident at all."

"No? The world is finite. Growth only ever increases. The clash between the two is inevitable. The problem, therefore, is self-evident."

Emiliana furrowed her brow, suddenly uncertain. "But you said all those things before about conflict being bad..."

"Yes. That is how many in Abolish view the problem. Growth requires conflict. Eliminate conflict, eliminate growth. In fact, some consider conflict to be the only problem and think nothing of growth. They make war in order to end war. Noble, in some sense."

"But that's not what you believe."

"No, it is not, though the end goal is similar, at least in principle."

"Your goal is to end war?" said Emiliana.

"Not exactly," said Gohvis. "However, my goal would theoretically make war unnecessary."

"...You're saying war IS necessary now?"

"Of course. The eternal struggles for resources, security, and power make it so."

She thought about that for a moment. "But, I mean, if we are still speaking theoretically, then... cooperation could resolve those issues, too, could it not?"

"Mm. A nice thought, perhaps, but mistaken nonetheless."

"How?"

"Because betrayal is simply too tempting for some. It is an action that can take its motivation from both emotional thinking and from stone cold reason. The only counters to it are based on either morality or the fear that one might not be able to get away with it."

Emiliana was beginning to understand. "...You're saying that you think people are too corrupt."

"By their very nature, yes."

"Which is why your goal is to change said nature."

"Yes."

They arrived in a large room that was most certainly not the refectory. Emiliana didn't even recognize this place. Much like the main areas of the Library, this room also had several tall bookshelves lining the walls, but they were far fewer in number here. Three long, black tables sat in the center of the room, each one filled with beakers, flasks, microscopes, graduated cylinders, test tubes, and so on.

It wasn't exactly... impressive. The equipment here looked about as sophisticated as what she'd seen in her high school chemistry lab. She did see a couple computers here, at least, which answered an earlier question she'd had, but somehow, she doubted they would have internet access. They looked a bit old, as well.

There was one piece of equipment that caught her attention, though: a cylindrical chamber at the far end of the room, large enough for a person to fit inside. For two people, even.

She'd never really seen anything like it before, but judging from the faint, watery stains on its translucent body and the dust all over its metal base, it must've been fairly old.

She was curious to know more about what the function of such a thing might be, but she wasn't yet finished with the subject that they'd been discussing.

"So if the problem is that humans are too corrupt," she said, "then how do you intend to change that?"

"Perhaps you would like to guess," said Gohvis as he fiddled with something in the corner of the room.

Her expression flattened. "I really wouldn't."

"How are you to learn to think for yourself if I simply tell you everything?"

She resented that question a little. "I think for myself quite a bit, thank you very much."

"Oh? Then you should have no problem coming up with potential answers."

Hmph. He really did know how to be annoying, sometimes.

She tried to think.

If the hypothetical problem was corruption, and the method of resolution was changing human nature, then... what aspects of human nature, if somehow tweaked, could possibly eliminate corruption?

"...Is this where conflict comes back into the picture?" she asked. "If you remove the human desire for conflict, then corruption might also be eliminated?"

At that, she saw the Monster of the East stand up more rigidly in his corner of the room. Then his shoulders began to tremble, and she heard a low rumble from him.

Wait, was he laughing?

He was! Quietly, but he was!

"No," he said through a subdued chortle. "Removing all desire for conflict could have any number of unintended consequences. In fact, I'm quite sure that such a change would simply destroy a civilization instead of sustaining it." He laughed a little more strongly now. "And coming from a soft heart such as yours, that was a very amusing answer."

She frowned with frustration. "Well, then I don't know what answer you're looking for!"

"Mm."

Emiliana sighed and allowed herself to fall into the nearest chair. It wasn't very comfortable.

Gohvis finally turned away from his corner, and in his hands was something encased in glass. A tall, flat thing. And quite large as well. As big as Emiliana's whole body, perhaps.

He stepped closer with them, and then she noticed all the tiny shapes crawling around inside it, up and down through snaking tunnels.

It was an ant farm, she realized. The biggest she'd ever seen.

And Gohvis just set it down on the table in front of her.

She looked at it, then at him, then back at it.

Somehow, she was even more confused than before.

"Do you know what the deadliest insect on this planet is?" said Gohvis.

Emiliana's mouth twisted with an expectation of imminent horror. "Tell me it's not these ants, right here."

"No," said Gohvis. "These little ones are harmless, but they are a close evolutionary relative, you might say. Useful for long-term study without all of the collateral damage."

Well, that was a relief, at least. Emiliana didn't know what to say now, though.

"The deadliest insect is the Jaskadan jumper ant," said Gohvis. "They vary somewhat in size, but the soldiers can grow to be as big as your fist. As their name suggests, they are known for their leaping ability, but they also have a paralytic venom that puts even most snakes to shame."

"Why are you telling me this?" she asked.

He held up a giant index finger. "But their most fearsome attribute is the way that they wage war on other animals. They've been known to conquer enormous swaths of land, pushing out virtually all other fauna and even rendering certain creatures extinct--a feat which is typically only considered achievable by humans.

"However, despite all of that, despite being the deadliest insects in the world, they are still not the most resilient ones. That title goes to their long-standing rivals." He motioned to the farm again. "These little fellows. The Ardoran angel ant."

Emiliana still didn't see where Gohvis was going with any of this, but she doubted that it was some random tangent of his. There must have been something about these ants that was relevant to Gohvis' overall goal.

"Even though the Jaskadan jumper ant is a hundred times its size or more, the Ardoran angel ant is one of the few animals in the world that it cannot conquer. The angel ant is immune to its venom, has a body that can withstand pressures over ten tons, temperatures over three thousand degrees, and has an average lifespan of 150 years."

Her eyes widened a little at that bit of information.

"Try as the jumper ant might, it cannot kill the angel ant," said Gohvis. "It can 'occupy' angel ant territory, but that makes little to no difference to them. The angel ant can simply continue about its business as usual, climbing over the jumper ant's giant body like it would any other obstacle to gathering food. Even the angel queen is essentially invulnerable to attack or interruption of her reproductive cycle."

Emiliana had to ask a question now. "If all of that is true, then it seems like the angel ant could take over the entire world. Er, well. The entire ant world, at least."

"Ah, but that is precisely the point. Angel ants do not wage war like most ants do. They certainly do not conquer like the jumper ants. And why should they? They have no need to. Almost nothing can truly threaten their colony."

Hmm. She felt like she was beginning to understand now. "Are you saying that you want to make human beings like the angel ant?"

"Mm. You're getting warmer."

"But I'm not spot on?"

"Making humanity as physically resilient as the angel ant would be one step to ensuring its survival under extreme conditions," said Gohvis, "but in truth, it is the social behavior of the angel ant that I find most interesting."

"Social behavior?" said Emiliana.

"Angel ant colonies are unique in that they function using a true hive mind," said Gohvis. "Unlike other ants, which only operate according to pheromones and designated instincts to make it seem like they share one, singular intelligence, angel ants genuinely do. And that, I believe, is the real reason they are so resilient. As a unified colony, they are more intelligent than any other ant in the world."

Emiliana felt like she could finally understand the picture that Gohvis was painting here.

The Monster sat down on the floor, crossing enormous legs over one another. He was still about as tall as she was in her chair. "The jumper ants may be more aggressive, better at waging war, better at controlling territory, better at reproducing, but they still can't defeat the angel ants. Even by trying to take all of their food, they can't do it. The angel ant can survive for over a month on little more than a drop of water.

"They represent two very different evolutionary strategies. And personally, I believe that in the very long-term, the angel ant's method is superior. Humans could learn a thing or two from their example."

Emiliana waited for him to keep talking, but when nothing else was said, she finally voiced the conclusion that she had reached in her mind. "You want to create a hive mind for humanity..."

"Mm."

"But that... agh..." How many different ways were there to tell him how crazy that sounded? What was she even supposed to say to something like that?

"You are worried about free will," he said.

Was she? Yeah. She supposed she was. It took her a second to gather her thoughts, but he was right. That was exactly the root cause of her concern.

"A hive mind might eliminate corruption by eliminating freedom," said Gohvis. "All would be done for the good of the whole. And each brain could be used in parallel with the others to achieve a level of collective creative potential that is heretofore unheard of. But yes. The individual mind may become lost in the shuffle. Hypothetically."

"...Only hypothetically? That sounds more like a certainty to me."

"No. A true hive mind among beings with human-level intelligence has never been observed. The actual consequences of such a network are, at this time, unknowable." His glowing red gaze shifted to Emiliana.

She felt like he had more to say on that point, but he remained silent. "...Why are you telling me all of this?"

"Because you wished to know, did you not?"

Hmm. Was it really that simple? Maybe it was. Not everything had to be complicated. But he could still be lying. He may have acted like he was above it, but she still remembered when Gohvis showed up at Dunehall and tried to lie to the Salesman of Death.

Emiliana wanted to keep pushing, to see if she could find some fault in his explanations. "...This seems like quite a lot of trouble to go through just because you dislike the concept of growth for some reason."

"For some reason, you say?"

"Yes. Trees grow. Animals grow. I don't see you trying to wipe them out of existence."

Gohvis's eyes narrowed. "I am not trying to wipe humans out of existence."

"But Abolish is."

"Some among them, yes."

"And you don't have a problem with it."

"I do. But not as much as you do, I suspect."

"Then my point still stands."

"Comparing human growth to that of virtually anything else on the planet is absurd. Trees and animals have not developed the ability to become the arbiters of their own destruction."

"Why should that make a difference? Especially if you're apparently okay with Abolish wiping everyone out, anyway?"

"It makes an enormous difference," said Gohvis. "The growth rate of humanity is unlike anything else in the known universe. To our knowledge, human civilization has only existed for a few thousand years, but look at all the power that it currently wields. Enough to wipe itself out--and perhaps even to take the planet with it."

Emiliana's gray eyes went to the table in front of her while she listened.

"And this trend is not going to change," Gohvis went on. "If anything, it will accelerate. So how powerful do you think humanity will become in another thousand years? Powerful enough to destroy the sun? The solar system? The galaxy? What about in ten thousand years? Or a million?"

"...You're worried about a million years into the future?" she said.

"The foundations we lay now could have consequences that resonate throughout the rest of human civilization," said Gohvis. "And as immortal beings, our responsibility over the future is two-fold. I don't know about you, but I would like to see how it all plays out. This cosmic game we find ourselves in."

Geez. She wasn't sure she had a response for that.

But still. She pressed her lips together as she tried to reevaluate his words another time. "...This is a completely different argument to what you said a minute ago. You said growth was a problem because of finite resources, not this."

"I said it was self-evidently a problem because of finite resources, yes. Which is still true. Growth demands innovation, and innovation discovers new ways to exploit resources, which can slow the decay; but in the very long term, the finite nature of the world will continue to be a problem that demands a direct solution. And that is what I am most concerned about: the long term."

Emiliana growled with exasperation and scratched her eyebrow. "If you're so concerned about humanity's long-term survival, then how can you ally yourself with Abolish? They're actively working against humanity's short-term survival!"

"Mm. The answer to that is more complicated."

"Oh, is it?! Well, I'm all ears!"

"Part of the answer, I mentioned before. I acknowledge that my solution may be wrong, that it may simply be impossible to achieve the kind of change in human nature that I am looking for. And if that is the case, if I am wrong, then Abolish's solution may be the only thing left that will save the universe from humanity."

Emiliana put her face in both hands and sighed. Hearing all of this, she didn't know what else she had expected. She wanted to keep arguing, but this was starting to give her a headache.

"And the other part of the answer," said Gohvis, "is that my plan does not require humanity as we know it to survive. It is debatable that mutants should even be considered human in the first place."

She blinked and looked at him again with incredulity. "Are you saying that you think Abolish will spare our kind?"

"Oh, of course not," said Gohvis. "If it ever came to that, and only mutants remained, I am sure that the true zealots of Abolish would consider us a final obstacle to the fulfillment of their dream."

"Then I don't understand. What would you do in that case?"

Gohvis just stared at her for a moment. "Kill them." His flat voice sounded so utterly unconcerned by that prospect that Emiliana couldn't help being taken aback a little.

"...You're confident you would be able to?" she said, fully realizing that she was probably starting to push her luck now.

Gohvis made no response, however.

Something about the way he was looking at her now made her lose most of her poise. She thought twice about continuing down this avenue of conversation.

Questioning his motivations was one thing. His reasoning. His logic. He was clearly forthcoming with those types of explanations.

But questioning his strength...

Perhaps that was different. The sudden shiver down her spine was telling her that perhaps the ice she was treading on here had become too thin.

And yet.

A part of her still wanted to push onward, anyway. Gohvis would give her a proper warning if she truly said anything out of line, right? Maybe she was just getting inside of her own head.

"I was just saying," she tried, "hypothetically... in the scenario you're talking about, your opponents will have presumably wiped out the entirety of the Vanguard... as well as every other powerful servant in the world... so... how can you so casually say that you would be able to kill people like that?"

Gohvis stood up and began returning the giant ant farm to its previous position in the corner of the room. "Because the world is on my side," he said.

"...What do you mean?" she asked.

But this time, the Monster of the East truly did not answer her.

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