————〔 Skill: Archive of the Obscure Observer 〕————
Type: Cognitive Skill
Origin: Awakened upon Astrid's 2nd awakening at 21
Related Page: Page of Mind
Description:
A skill born from the stillness between thoughts, where memory ceases to be memory and becomes matter.It allows the user to preserve objects, recollections, and, should the mind be vast enough, concepts themselves, storing them within the inner world where no time passes and no space exists.Nothing living can be taken, for life is the one thing that refuses to be contained.
Verse from the Page of Mind:
⟪ Every mind is a library, but only a chosen few are permitted to rearrange the shelves.
What is stored is not lost; what is forgotten is not gone.
In the silence between thoughts, Lysera leaves her fingerprints. ⟫
. . . . . .
Astrid stared at the translucent glass screen in front of her, but in a rather unfortunate twist of fate, she didn't get a chance to fully register it.
A thunderous crash erupted just beside her, the ground turning into colorless nothingness. Another blast followed, tearing away the right side of the mansion.
How tragic. Her room had once stood there before—her family was betrayed, and her world had exploded.
Soon, the entire world vanished, leaving Astrid alone in the black void of absence.
Astrid calmly surveyed her surroundings with calm detachment, noticing the lack of any and all things. There was no sound, taste, or smell.
Fascinating, to think such an unimaginable place could exist within my mind, a place of imagination.
Astrd quietly noted to herself, her love for the unknown lighting a spark of excitement in her.
Ever since she was a kid, Astrid had been unusually interested in adventure and experiments.
She stood there for a few minutes, waiting to see if anything would happen; contrary to expectations, nothing happened.
She wanted to test some more, to truly push her skill to the limits, yet now was not the time.
But first she had to tame the last traces of her trauma.
. . . . . .
Astrid's eye opened to a familiar space.
A marble ceiling, sunlight spilling from the windows, the faint smell of parchment and ink filling the air, a stark contrast to the emptiness of the void she had been in a few moments ago.
It took her a beat to adjust to her body, her small arms and legs twitching with traces of movement. She stood steadily, her feet touching the cold floor of her room, grounding her to her past body.
At the far end of the room stood an ordinary dresser, yet to her blue eyes, every edge seemed impossibly sharp, its presence undeniable. The ebony handles were gleaming faintly, reflecting light in a way that made her squint them in discomfort.
Astrid took a step forward, the floor groaning under her weight. In the mirror, a beautiful young girl with midnight-black hair that shimmered faintly and blue eyes that stared back, calm and unblinking.
Two azure horns jutted out from her hair, barely larger than an inch, a clear testament to her heritage as a demon.
Astrid silently observed her body, noting her small limbs and unnecessarily flowery dress. It was a mixture of blue and black cloth, made from the finest materials across the continent, imported specifically for this day.
She clutched the wooden handle of her door and swung it open. Astrid took one last glance, committing the scene to memory: the giant bed, the minimalist aesthetic of the room itself, and the wooden drawer.
She drew in a deep breath, inhaling the cold mist, and closed the door.
Meanwhile, in the dining hall of the mansion, four chairs were set around a grand table, its surface entirely made of black metal, a white cloth spread over the top.
An assortment of different foods were arranged on the table. Wyvern meat saturated in mana-rich environments filled the table, faint curls of steam escaping whenever cut with a knife. Bottles of wine were arranged neatly in one corner, each one worth more than what most commoners made in their entire lives.
At the center of the table sat a mountain of vanilla ice cream, shaped to look like the crest of house Diavolo, a five-pointed star inside a circle, faint runes engraved in the ring of the circle with frosting. Hundreds of almonds made the main circle of the desert.
The man seated at the head of the table spoke up all of a sudden, shattering the silence that covered the room like a wet blanket, "Why is Astird still not here?"
His voice was colder than ice, yet his brows furrowed in worry, feet tapping the ground in impatience. A hand gently grabbed his own, the Matriarch of the house, the only person the 'Masterless Monarch' feared.
"Dear, there's no need to worry so much, Stella is always with Astrid, and you yourself know how strong she is. Astrid should be here any sec—" The doors to the dining hall burst open, and with it came the women of the hour, Astrid di Diavolo.
Astird's gaze traveled over the people seated at the table, clearly waiting for her.
Her father, regarded as one of the strongest men in the world, his strength nearly on par with the Apostle of Solace.
On his left sat Astrid's mother.
Freya di Diavolo, among the most accomplished in her field, a 'Mindweaver' with terrifying strength, but worse so was her mind. Her cognitive connection with The Book hovered near the threshold of the 6th stage, Resonant, only two stages away from the absolute peak of mental power.
Similarly, on Erik's right sat the heir to the Throne, the heir apparent, Loki di Diavolo. As soon as Loki felt Astrid's eyes on him, he enthusiastically waved his hand, his obsidian horns glinting under the light of the chandelier.
Astrid waved back to her brother, her eyes wandering from his face to the sword that hung on the wall behind her father.
That sword would fit my hand quite well; it looks light, perfect for beheading someone.
Astrid shook the thought away; it was just another useless piece of information in her detail-obsessed mind.
Click.
Click.
Click.
The sound of Astrid's heeled boots hitting the floor echoed in the silent room.
She stopped right in front of the table, put a hand on her chest, and bowed gracefully, her body bending at a 90-degree angle. Astrid raised her head just enough that her eyes locked onto her father's, and she smiled.
Her father's cold expression vanished in an instant, his face shifting into a canvas of warmth and love.
Astird quietly wondered to herself, How long has it been since I last saw his smile? How long has it been since I genuinely smiled myself, a year? Two?
Astrid had been so busy planning her revenge that she didn't have any time for herself, nor did she wish for the love and affection of others. There were only two goals in her life, exacting revenge on the ones who destroyed her house and supported her brother, and the other... keep Stella safe.
If someone heard her goals, they would label her an insane heretic and would publicly execute her.
Astrid knew she had less than a fraction of a percent to succeed; after all, her enemies weren't some low-level organization. They were beings capable on deleting the Diavolo house from the face of the planet in a single night.
She was up against...