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Inventor. Scientist. Craftsman. Artist. Engineer. Creator. Sinner. Eco terrorist. Heartless. Force of nature. Every single lofty title citizen and those knights had said, every insult and reverie from his foes and subjects, he had heard it all—felt it all, and he had given them not a single ounce of attention or care from his relentless calculating mind any output.
It was irrelevant data—useless—and just a droning buzz flickering from within his circuits and wires. Those noises are meaningless in his unending strife to reach perfection, meaningless in his research, and meaningless in his engineering. He couldn’t care less about the snide and hatred of unthinking lambs and mortal fools thinking they knew better, thinking they had the moral high ground, and thinking they were superior.
These organisms were imperfect. Flawed and working on incomplete data and baseless calculations. Leeches and fence hoppers both praised and cursed his innovations. Mere apes throwing sticks and stones at each other, while they were playing with something beyond their understanding. Prideful in the thought they had reached a pinnacle of existence and innovation while at the same time shunning and labeling the unknown as unnatural within their flawed paradigm of reality.
There was nothing unnatural in this universe, everything—even chaos—works within a set of undiscovered rules and principles. Ever has a solution, and everything can be explained if it doesn’t exist just yet. Those who labeled the unexplainable as abominations were even more disgusting to him. Those who had narrow thoughts, and limited themselves by the fluid abstraction that was morality. The concept of these was meaningless to the innovator.
The very first thought that came to his mind when he took his first steps on the cold tundra. To innovate, to learn, to harness, to invent, to explain, to catalogue, to archive, to manifest, to create, and to grasp the infinite plane of perfection.
Vacuuming the flow of mana, the whispering vortex of harnessed souls, crafting a plague to meld circuitry and flesh, irradiate an entire ocean, combining misunderstood materials, and harnessing exotic powers and the ruins of the fallen.
He had done many, yet perfection still slips through his fingers. No matter how far he rose and went, he already knew that he was fighting a losing battle. Even when he thought he had grazed infinity, infinity itself mocked and flew even further from his rusted digits. There was always something to improve, and there would always be something even grander and bigger in front of him.
He made machines so perfect they could rival the very Gods the tyrant had vanquished. Yet… it was oh so proven wrong.
His magnum opus, the pinnacle of his research and knowledge for those long years, was little more than mere scrap against the might of a single man. He understood already that he could never reach the level of the Godseeker nor the prophecy when he ascended beyond the Godseekers’ control.
Or maybe that was all his intention?
The sight of his machines utterly broken and destroyed kept flashing inside his database like a looping record. While a fool would’ve felt utter despair knowing their life’s work all amounted to nothing, he felt… joy. Because for the brilliant engineer, it meant that he could still improve, and it meant that infinity was still so far away in his grasp. It mattered not. Not because he had left the world in a cosmic accident… brought here by a blue-haired haloed girl who had no records in his databases. What matters most currently is this new playground.
An entirely unique and new set of data and materials to find—all easily provided by taking the role of a teacher. Though there was one thing that he regretted, he had yet to see the climax of the prophecy’s battle against the Godseeker. That bright light that erupted when their swords clashed brought forth this cosmic accident, and the fact that his knowledge of how the prophecy had managed to fabricate the “Miracle Matter” had evaded him.
Hasty footsteps broke the great inventor from his musings and machinery, followed by a wide-eyed terror from a black-haired cat-girl. “SENSEI! H-H-HOSHINO… H-HOSHINO… SHE’S—!”
Sensei raised his hand and turned to her with a few hisses and clicks of his chair. “Then she had made her choice and had already fallen within my calculations.”
“S-SHE—! SENSEI, BUT…!” Serika tried to protest to make him act, but all she got was that mechanical stare boring into her soul. He tapped on his chair.
“That is her responsibility, not yours. Complaining to me wouldn’t change anything. In the meantime, you should rest. I have other matters to attend to.”
With a few clicks and taps, the technology on the seat hummed and enveloped him in a hazy crackle, and then he was gone. Leaving the room empty but the small hum of machinery, and Serika’s hollow frustration and wrath to stew. She wanted to act, to do something now, and yet even she knew that rushing in blind rage would damn her.
She closed her eyes—and put her trust in the adult.
«1001 Stories Across Kivotos»
If there was one thing true about sensei, it was that he’s weird. Not counting his morphology—or lack thereof, instead it was more about his personality. He was detached and unpredictable in his actions. He acted mostly on logic and benefits—data and facts. He found emotional factors to be a dissonance in his innovation—yet wasn’t immune to such stimuli.
Or at least, what close enough to be that.
Pride in watching Aris grow, in the creations and ideas the Millennium Engineering Club had made, in the hacking Veritas had done, and those meetings he had with Rio as kindred beings of logic. And there were moments where he would talk long and wide about his creations. Machines of war that could level Kivotos to the ground. Though, sensei would say it’s an insult to him and his machines. They were a work of art. His first magnum opus until he had found sufficient data to further his own ambitions.
This was one reason Kaiser was so interested in him, rather, in his mind. There were a few skirmishes in which they tried to infiltrate his mobile research stations in Abydos only to have them obliterated in a blink by his security systems that looked out of this world. He called them Exotech. His reputation as a teacher grew along with his notoriety for craftsmanship that seemed to be endless.
And it all accumulated now in this one meeting he had with another enigmatic figure that contacted him through a secure channel. A meeting face to face with a man of cracking obsidian and unique exotic energies that leaked through his body like a faucet. Dissipating before disappearing, leaving just a few remnants of its hazy existence.
“Fascinating…” Sensei muttered. Heavy clicks and clacks of his machinery with every step.
“Kehehe, flattery wouldn’t do you any favors, sensei. But thank you.” The man in the immaculate black suit chuckles lightly. A permanent slime made from the scars upon his pitch-black obsidian. “I’m sure you may have… some ideas why this meeting happened.”
The man leaned slightly on his chair. “I’ve wanted to talk to you face-to-face for a long time ever since you appeared. You who are from outside of Kivotos as well like us, and you who share our ambitions and love for research.”
“For the time being, we found a suitable name to borrow. Please, call us Gematria. And I’m fine with going by 'Black Suit,' Sensei. I’ve grown… quite fond of that name.”
“Gematria.” Sensei tasted the words on his circuits, his drones reporting nothing, and his databases were empty about them. A new variable he had theorized—proven to be true. He wasn’t the only outsider. Information was needed.
“Your organization. Define it for me. Your research. History.” Sensei asked, and Black Suit mused lightly with an almost proud tone.
“Kehehe. I suppose it’s only fair. Our organization is… fairly recent in a way. Some of us had been here longer before we formed Gematria.”
Black Suit paused as he shifted slightly on his chair. “We, Gematria, are… observers, explorers, researchers. You could say we’re enigmatic beings, much like yourself.”
“As the matters of… hierarchy and other of the mundane, it could be defined almost as a disjointed, yet united group. We don’t particularly work together much, but we all share the same goal with our own unique paths for it. Kivotos is a grand puzzle. A maze, and hub for mysteries and answers yet to be discovered.”
“You wish for collaboration.” Sensei said immediately, cutting to the chase. Somehow, his sensors narrowed to see the ‘smile’ on Black Suit’s face widening just a little.
“Kehehe. Then there is nothing more to be said, sensei.” Black Suit leaned slightly towards sensei, the ethereal burn on his body glows just a little brighter.
“You represent the largest obstacle we have in our goals. Wiping Abydos is child’s play, but to face the consequence of doing so… is another thing we’d rather avoid. There is no benefit or opportunity to be found from such needless conflict. I’m sure you understand.”
Nothing had escaped sensei’s calculations. Not the Terrarian, and not Kivotos. A calculated risk and opportunities to be found. He was acting and moving still on incomplete data and research even with Arona's assistance, and whatever resources he had within his authority. Just like when he was in the Godseeker’s service, this new variable fascinates him.
A harbinger. Unexpected and unpredictable catalysts for change and innovation for their own ideals that would lead to the goal for knowledge—at any risks and ways.
“Takanashi Hoshino. The 3rd year student, Vice President of Abydos Highschool Student Council. You wanted her personally for a reason. Was it about her abnormally high unique energy resonance?”
A good question, and something he was eager to answer. “A logical assumption, and a half correct one. Yes. Miss Takanashi is currently being held in our research facility, the… unique energy resonance as you logged it, could be defined as mystic.”
Like jingling a pair of keys. Information and data locked behind their organization. “That’s all I could share right now, unless… you are interested in working together for the foreseeable future.”
“...So, allow me to formally ask. Will you lend Gematria your brilliance?”
Black Suit stood up and offered his hand, a deal waiting to be forged between two enigmatic adults. Both seeking research, both seeking knowledge, and he wouldn’t shy away from such opportunities. Collaboration and external aid wouldn’t be a threat, he learned that much under the Godseeker’s service. Gematria’s existence, Black Suit’s, and those that were part of the organization’s nature intrigues him.
They will observe him as he would observe them back. A nature born from pragmatism and opportunity and possibility. He didn’t hesitate as he reached for Black Suit’s hand as his warm gloved hand shook the metallic steel of the otherworldly engineer.
“It’ll be illogical if I were to decline.”
“Kehehe. Then it’ll be a pleasure to be working with you, Draedon-sensei.”
«1001 Stories Across Kivotos»