Metem: The Blind Chemist

CHAPTER 15

“Ah, excellent, you returned in one piece!” Oh-jin said, closing the book in his hand and throwing it to the floor.

“Doing some light reading?” Kopius said with some sarcasm, gesturing at the mess.

“I have been looking for answers.” Oh-jin replied. “Did you find the eyebright?”

Kopius produced the flower from his sack and handed it over. When Oh-jin took the flower, an empty window popped up with a bronze, sparkly border. Quest complete? Kopius smiled to himself. He opted to skip the part about Cici, as he was anxious and didn’t want the old man to get sidetracked. Oh-jin looked between the flower and the books, as if deciding which to address first.

“Let me treat this first,” Oh-jin said, raising the eyebright, ”and then I will let you know what I have found.”

The short man exited the room and turned towards his lab. Kopius picked up the book Oh-jin had been holding and gave it a look. At first, the cover appeared to be filled with symbols and other foreign markings. It looked to Kopius as though Egyptian hieroglyphics and Greek letters had had babies. After a few moments of staring, everything adjusted, and Kopius could read as though it was his native language.

He quickly put the book down and wondered if he had been hit with some kind of magic spell, but he didn’t feel any different. With slight trepidation, Kopius picked up the book again and looked at the cover. Lexore Val-jin Volume 113 Metem. He opened the book and started to read the first entry:

4th of Jonuar, 13319um

Metem

We have found a cave deep in a valley. There is a concentration of magic I have not felt in quite some time; or possibly ever. It seeps from the rocks, and my mana pool regenerates at an extraordinary pace while there. After experimenting, I have concluded that the source is not of natural means. At least, it is not a product of any magical ley line. Maybe a fallen god from long ago, maybe a magical creature dormant, maybe any number of things we have yet to discover. Either way, we should tread carefully, as something resides in the shadows. I will continue to test the boundaries of the cave to see if it will fit our plans.

Cave sketch- Caves Volume 3, page 10

Oh-jin returned as Kopius was reading the last of the entry.

“You can read Jin?” Oh-jin asked with curiosity.

“Jin?” Kopius replied.

“Yes, Jin! Jinovian. The book you have there,” Oh-jin said, pointing at the book.

“No, I never heard of that-or them, or whatever.” Kopius answered, but then looked over the book again. A lightbulb started to have a seizure in his mind as he slowly realized something.

“This is written in, what did you say, Jinovian?” Kopius asked, holding up the book.

“Well, yes,” Oh-jin answered with confusion.

“Do you have any other books in a different language?” Kopius asked anxiously.

“I do not believe so.” Oh-jin replied, scratching his beard to think. “I do speak a few languages, though.”

Kopius smiled at this and turned to face the man. “Ok, that will work. Which do you know?”

“Let us see now. There is Common,” Oh-jin started with a small smile, ”and then there is Jinovian. I can also speak Elvish.”

“Are we talking elves like, they live in the forest, pretty agile, usually attractive?” Kopius asked.

Oh-jin considered the description for a moment before replying. “That is a rough approximation of the elven people. Like most races, though, there can be vast variations depending on where you travel. Elves do prefer the woods from what I understand but can be anywhere.”

“Fair enough. Can you say something in Elvish?”

“What should I say?” Oh-jin inquired.

“Say, uh, say, ‘two outs, bottom of the ninth.’” Kopius said with a slight grin.

“Two outs, bottom of the ninth,” Oh-jin repeated.

“Yes,” Kopius replied, ”say that in Elvish.”

At this Oh-jin cocked his head. “I just said it in Elvish,” Oh-jin said.

“Just then, you said it in Elvish?” Kopius asked.

“Yes,” Oh-jin said, ”I am speaking Elvish right now. Two outs, bottom of the ninth.” While Oh-jin was speaking, Kopius paid attention to the man's lips moving.

“Can you say it one more time–in Common, though?” Kopius asked.

“Two outs, bottom of the ninth,” Oh-jin said slowly with some irritation.

Not that Kopius, or Cory for that matter, was a lip reader but sometimes he could tell, especially with a phrase he was familiar with. The first time he watched Oh-jin speak Elvish, his lips moved in ways that just did not look right. While speaking in Common, the old man's lips had the familiar shape and movement that Kopius recognized. The light bulb in his head finally lit up, and he couldn’t help but laugh out loud. Oh-jin joined the laughter, but it was clear he was not exactly sure what they were laughing about.

“It’s the Speakeasy!” Kopius finally blurted out. Oh-jin thought for a second before his forehead indicated that his eyeballs were wide open in realization. “So I have Night Vision, I can understand different languages, and I am faster. That just about covers everything from when I woke up,” Kopius said, thinking of the Speakeasy and the floating symbol he’d assumed had something to do with air magic. ”Well, and this shitty gear.” He shrugged.

“Amazing,” Oh-jin said, mouth agape. ”Continue to hone Speakeasy. It will be most valuable in your travels!”

“Travels?” Kopius asked, with a sick feeling springing up out of nowhere in his gut.

“Yes, travels,” Oh-jin answered. “I have been reading since the moment you left and have information to share. Some of it is reassuring. Some of it is not.”

“How about we start with the ‘not’ first?” Kopius offered as he leaned against the small desk. Oh-jin made his way over to the tiny cot to have a seat. He collected the books that were on the cot, five in total, and placed them on his lap. He sat with a pensive expression, his normal nonchalance absent.

“You may have suspected by now that I am of the Jinovan race,” Oh-jin began, to which Kopius nodded slightly; though it really hadn’t crossed his mind. “Long ago, the Jinovian people, also known as Jin, did not exist. They were non-corporeal beings, summoned through various vessels, requiring some kind of container to hold their spirit. At some point, a Jinovian was set free and took form. It was the will of a benevolent master. The first Jin then set out to free others and create a society. Now, Jin contained by their vessel are very powerful sorcerers, but once set free, they lose much of their power. They are still very strong magic users but not the dominant force of nature they once were. Generally, they excelled in the four elements, and it was not long before their numbers grew.”

Kopius raised his hand to interrupt. “This is gripping and all, but why are you telling me this?” Kopius asked, trying–but failing–not to sound rude.

“I am not taking a walk with my memories for pleasure, boy!” Oh-jin spat. “If I told you what I found before telling you what I know, I would have to start over from here anyways!” Oh-jin softened his tone. “I need to tell you about the past so that we can best address the future. Now, where was I?”

“They are strong magic users,” Kopius offered.

“Yes, strong indeed. They use the elements of fire, water, and the like.” Oh-jin resumed, and Kopius raised his hand again, a bit sheepishly this time.

“Last interruption, I swear,” Kopius said. “For magic; are fire, water, earth, and air the only options?”

“No, but they are the most common. There is dark and light magic, empath or psionic magic, blood magic and more. I have also heard rumors of chaotic magic, but those are just rumors,” Oh-jin answered politely. “Now, may I continue?” Kopius made a lock and throw away the key motion over his mouth.

“In the beginning, the Jinovians were a peaceful people, long ruled by heirs of the first Jin, Jannasa. They shared their knowledge and skills with other towns and races, building a reputation of being trustworthy and strong. Yet, given enough time and the wrong ambition, a society can turn on a coin. Eventually the power shifted to darker souls with darker minds. Of course, there are finer details, a myriad of causes and catalysts. It was a slow deterioration of one moral compass after another.” Oh-jin trailed off a bit, caught up in his own story.

He gathered himself and continued. “These darker souls, known as the Val-jin, are a rare type of Jinovian, for they are skilled in psionic magic. This rare breed used their magic to gain influence and power. Their manipulation allowed them to gain access to the highest levels of the Jinovian leadership. When the heir to the throne, Qulsan Mum, wed a Val-jin, it all but spelled the end. The day Qulsan took the crown, everything changed. Our borders were closed, all non-Jinovian’s were thrown from the kingdom, and half-bloods and dissenters were imprisoned. Sent to the Maca Dami.” Oh-jin shuttered as if reliving an unwelcome memory.

“The Val-jin call it their ‘meditation center,’ but others know too well what happens behind those walls; Lexore knew more than most.,” Oh-jin said, gesturing to a set of books.

He then pointed at Kopius. “This next part is where your path aligns, so pay attention,” Oh-jin said in a lecturing tone. Kopius shrugged innocently as he had been paying attention this whole time.

“The Maca Dami sits on crossing magical ley lines. This helped to amplify their influence at first, but they found, through powerful magic users, that they could do much more than influence: they could reave a soul and then replace that soul with another. Every single being that entered the Maca Dami left changed both mentally and physically, if they left at all. Those who did leave, joined the ranks of the ever-growing Val-jin army, devoted beyond measure. Inside the Maca Dami are powerful wizards known as Sifters, or Soul Sniffers. They reach out with their powers, searching for wandering and weak souls. Once they find their target, they redirect its trajectory into a waiting vessel, the body of a prisoner. The prisoner would take on some or all of the characteristics of the entering soul. The process, as I have read, is instant and agonizing. They are then ushered to further indoctrination before joining the ranks of soldiers.”

Oh-jin, after saying that whole part in one breath, paused to take another drink of water.

Kopius had begun to feel a bit of unease while Oh-jin had been speaking. It still all sounded like some convoluted story to him, but what-ifs kept scratching at the surface of his mind.

Doubt had always been an afterthought for Cory. What-ifs had never really bothered him as he was so sure of his own brilliance. After enough ‘life lessons’ though, Cory had started to account for contingencies and plot holes, often being unsuccessful because of his overcorrecting. He would joke that ‘his pendulum had gone rogue’ to account for his errors.

Kopius took a deep breath to clear his thoughts of past miscalculations. He began to lament the absence of a ‘skip dialogue’ button, like those often found in video games. Maybe there is one and I just can't see it, Kopius fumed internally. He wanted to move to the part of the conversation that got him out of here. The part that confirmed he was stuck in a game and this NPC was going to show him the way out. He opened his profile page and closed it. Nothing had changed.

Kopius was feeling anxious, like a man with limited time and a mountain to climb. He felt his sense of urgency rising, especially after hearing the part about the Soul Sniffers. It’s just a game, Kopius reminded himself. Just go with it until we can get the hell out of here.

“So, what, I am not a chosen one?” Kopius half chuckled, breaking the short silence.

“If by that you mean special, I am afraid not,” the old chemist-looking man said with a hint of sympathy. “Quite the opposite, actually.” Oh-jin made a deep sigh and continued. “Weak souls tend to be malleable, motivated by fear or fortune. Once the tether between–well–you in this case, and your physical self is severed the process is complete.”

“The process?” Kopius said with a bit of trepidation.

“The transfer, boy! Are you not listening?” Oh-jin huffed. “Your soul has been, or I should say, is in the process of transferring. Dying is not the only way to separate the soul from the body!”

Kopius had never really pinned down where he landed on the whole soul thing, but hearing that someone or something was tampering with it gave him the heebie-jeebies. In the real world, Cory struggled with emotional overtones. Believing in a soul meant having a soulmate, at least by his stretch in logic. If the man formerly known as Cory and his big, black book of poor decisions were an indication of anything, his soulmate was either highly elusive or grossly unmotivated.

Cory had had a cat in the real world. Orwood was a black cat with green eyes, a white-striped belly, and an attitude only Firelord Azula could love. Orwood was fierce and loving. She would cuddle you just as quickly as she would take a swipe at your face. She was, Cory had felt at the time, the closest thing to a soulmate that he would get. Bitch, Kopius thought with a loving, nostalgic grin. “Gotta watch the tail,” he said under his breath. ”The tail tells all.”

“The tail does what now?” Oh-jin interjected.

Kopius snapped out of his reverie. “What? Oh, my bad,” he said, bringing himself back to the present. ”A cat's tail, it tells all.”

Oh-jin cocked his head a bit, processing the information.

“A cat's tail moves in a way that you can guess its intentions.” Kopius clarified.

After hearing this additional information, the old man rubbed at his chin. ”Interesting,” Oh-jin murmured. “Does the tail speak to you?” The old man asked with genuine curiosity.

“Ah, no,” Kopius replied. ”It's more of an educated guess. I don’t speak to cats.” Kopius ended with a slight chuckle. “I mean, I do speak to cats, but they can’t understand me.” Before things got completely sidetracked and Kopius got lost in an endless explanation of cat videos, he steered things back to more urgent matters. “I can elaborate on that later, but you were saying something along the lines of my soul being harvested or something?” Kopius said with some apprehension in his voice.

“Harvested! That is a terrible, painful happening! No, no, I said your soul, your essence, um, ah, your life energy is being traded.” Oh-jin smiled as though he had covered all possible explanations.

“Traded?!” Kopius exclaimed, completely forgetting his ‘just go with it’ attitude. ”Traded how? For who?” He was yelling now. “I didn't agree to come here!” He gestured to everything.

“Maybe traded is the wrong term,” he offered. ”It is more like a swap.”

“That's the same thing,” Kopius muttered.

“Exchanged?” Oh-jin tried.

“Same,” Kopius retorted, running his hands over his face and through his hair.

“Oh, switched!”

“You can dive as far as you’d like into that thesaurus, dude. It. Is. The. Same.” Kopius replied, clipping each of the last words.

After taking a moment to calm the growing ire in his gut, Kopius apologized. “Sorry. This is just a lot to process. Isn’t there some cosmic rule about souls?” he lamented. “Don’t I have to agree or contract or barter or some such nonsense?! There should be rules, you know!” He raised his fist to the ceiling.

His anger dissipated and exhaustion settled in. Anger had been a sad fact of life for Cory in the real world. When it wasn’t clouding his better judgment or running his mouth into a black eye, Cory’s few successes were fueled by it too. Spite had driven him up those hills and then kicked him on the way down.

In the moments he didn’t have someone to fuel that furnace, the eyes of those flames turned inward. Years of snide remarks with sarcastic undertones–mostly unwarranted–pointed at unknowing people had turned their ugly heads to feed on their host. After that, self-loathing became an art form. He was warned as a kid that making those silly faces for too long would result in your face getting stuck that way. In reality, if you tell yourself something for long enough, you will start to believe it. Cory was convinced he had only made it this far in life through dumb luck and tiptoeing all around Murphy’s Law. Neither made for stand out resume skills or first date conversation.

Oh-jin, feeling the despair, offered Kopius the only chair in the room. Begrudgingly, Kopius squeezed past a small bookshelf and dumped himself in the seat across from the old man.

“Why am I here?” Kopius lamented.

“I do not know,” Oh-jin said in hushed tones. ”Maybe you are a failure or mentally deficient, someone who is expendable; my best guess would be you have a weak soul.”

Kopius thought he should feel insulted, but the man was rambling to himself. “I am right here, you know!” Kopius said, gesturing at his whole self.

Oh-jin’s head perked up as he realized he was speaking aloud. “Sorry, my boy, no ill intentions towards you.” He replied with a chuckle. “Have you signed any documents of late, or blood oaths? Those can be strong indeed! Maybe a contract, like you mentioned, whose terms you agreed to but did not fully read?”

Kopius laughed in spite of his mood. “If there is a soul-reaving clause in the Terms of Service for anything, ninety percent of my planet would be here,” Kopius said, relieved for the few seconds of levity.

He did consider the question for a moment before remembering that there were some truly sick individuals out there that do, in fact, read the entire service contract. One of them would have said something, right? Kopius thought wearily. He pushed the thought to the side and tried to get his mind back on track. He was getting caught up in the what-ifs and needed to focus.

“So you are saying that, somehow, my ‘weak soul’,” Kopius said with some bitterness, ”was redirected here, to Metem?”

“Yes,” Oh-jin answered.

“To what, though? This right here?” Kopius asked, looking over his new and improved body. “Who was in this vessel before me? Or the souls of anyone else you brought here, for that matter?”

“That is a mystery to me. A mystery that only the studious notes of Lexore can answer for you–I hope,” Oh-jin said, gesturing to the hundreds of books that occupied the room. “From what little I have gathered, it is a combination of psionic and blood magic.”

“Fine, we can figure out the ‘how’ later I guess,” Kopius huffed, not satisfied with such a short explanation. “Who’s blood, then?”

“That is what the eyebright is for!” Oh-jin exclaimed, jumping to his feet. He sped out of the room like a man who had left his oven on. After a few moments, the old chemist returned with a milling stone and a mortar in his hands. He was grinding a fine, white-and-yellow powder with a practiced hand.

“Kopius,” Oh-jin said while minding his work, ”come with me. Let us see if we can have a better look at your profile.”