Angelos Odyssey

1 – Temporary Master-3

Almost two hours in, and Shotobai’s got me reading off a list of sutras while tracing the image of a metal fist within a bunch of complex-ass mandalas. I hate this s**t, but the big dumb i***t urges me on. I don’t feel no zol or “Awakening,” and I don’t understand what he means by “altering the nature of your tau.”

The best I can accomplish is a clear mind. It’s not much, but it’s nice not to have my thoughts racin’ all over the place. In that silence, I start to picture each mandala. Once I’m done tracin’ ‘em all, I’m supposed to meditate on the sutras he gave me, the mandalas, and the fist of metal I’m trying to bring forth into reality.

It feels unreal to me. Images I was struggling to build in my mind before press down like a necessity, like real objects copied from the abstract. Without a single thought in my head, each mandala spreads through my mind’s eye like a hidden garden. I feel my blood get hot. My breathing slows down, and Shoto looks like he’s about to lose his mind with excitement. I feel something brewing deep inside, like my veins could explode with molten gold at any second.

“You’re getting close,” Shoto exclaims. “There’s a faint light running through you now. Focus more on the Ātman Mandala!”

I let my thoughts embrace the image he’s talking about. I feel twice as much adrenaline as before. I’m doing it. I’m generating tau through my own focus!

“Oh, very good...” the voice of someone older than both of us echoes behind me and instantly breaks my concentration.

Shoto sees him before I do, and he rolls his eyes as he stands up and grunts in frustration.

“He was almost there, Artemis. If you would’ve waited a few more minutes...”

“I apologize.”

Hearing his voice again ends the trance I was in. I quickly stand and turn to face him—

Someone whose skin looks like grey patchwork, with small slits covering his whole face. His eyes are grey, too, and he’s wearing a red kimono that’s got the symbol of a ruby-colored diamond on its back.

“Raik, this is Artemis Spilsbury. Number sixteen.”

Artemis bows.

“The pleasure’s all mine.”

I don’t know how to respond, so I just stare back at him. I remember Tavon talking about being attacked by this dude, so I already don’t like him. Soon enough, though, Shoto gets tired of me being rude.

“You’ll have to excuse him—he’s a new genzaon and a little shy.”

“Is that so? Does he belong to you?”

“No. He’s Tavon’s apprentice.”

Artemis pauses briefly and takes a deep breath.

“Excellent.”

It gets quiet. The two of them look each other over. I’m expecting Shotobai to strike at any time.

But that strike never comes.

“Is there something you wanted, Artemis?” Shoto crosses his arms and stamps his foot impatiently. He calms down before Artemis does; he’s confident.

“There is a message I wish to relay to every member of Noboros on their way to Isamael’s Ring.”

“Oh yeah, what’s that?”

“Lord Inen requested that the Knight Murderer join us directly, and Tavon declined. He’s given Noboros full permission to act however they please with regard to him. If you wanted to finish him off yourself, Shotobai, there’s no one who would stop you.”

Shoto nods.

“Gotcha. Is that all?”

Another short period of silence follows, then...

“Yes. I’d suggest you make your move before someone else does.”

Artemis turns away and exits, and I’m pissed that he came all this way to threaten my old master’s life. So far, Shoto’s the only person in Noboros I like.

“I think we’d better stop for today. When’s the last time you had any food, Raik?”

The question’s a pretty cruel reminder.

“It’s been a while,” I admit. “I didn’t wanna have to go around beggin’, if you know what I mean?”

“Of course.” Shoto puts his hand on my shoulder and smiles. “But you don’t have to shy away from help, buddy. I try to be generous where I can. After all, I only became a Death Officer so I could kill bad guys and talk to women. C’mon,”—he heads for the exit—“let’s hit the third floor’s mess hall. They have the most food.”

—

* * * *

Shotobai’s nice enough to cover the cost of my meal, and, because of him, I get to eat the best food I’ve ever tasted. They serve peppered steak, sirloin, lamb, goat, and meat I’ve never seen in my life. There’s so much to eat that I’ve barely any time to talk, but Shoto’s stuffing his face anyways and doesn’t seem offended.

During the meal, as we’re seated at a dark, heavily-cushioned booth with silvery white walls around us, he asks while wiping his mouth with his handkerchief, “So, Raik, why do you want to be a killer?”