I really am over it.
The battle between me and that brat might seem like it began in the cocoon, but the truth is we've been at odds since the moment we stepped into Hortusole.
The problem was identifying a precise target for my suspicions. While I was wrestling with that dilemma, Clarisse appeared to notice.
She volunteered to head toward the boundary's center early and alone. It was more an act of bait than anything else, but it wasn't my place to worry about whether she could handle it.
In the meantime, Oliver would resume tracking Earth, while I gathered as much data on Hortusole's seed as possible. That was how those games of 'Scramble' proved useful.
This all meant we hadn't been in a state of emergency during those first six months.
The real dilemma came from the anomaly that revealed itself that night.
For some inexplicable reason, my mind took a silent pause, and my senses stopped monitoring my officers.
I feel ashamed knowing I was wholly unprepared for such a situation, able only to panic when the Spire caught the Nebula off guard.
It wasn't that I believed everything was over. I was simply furious at how quickly things spiraled out of control on our first mission.
Before its decline, what made the Nebula branch so exceptional was that, as the 56th's special vanguard for major campaigns, all tasks involving the branch could always be accompanied by its Captain.
That should have been a tremendous advantage, yet that night made my presence feel negligible. That will never happen again.
Not knowing how to protect others is nowhere near a valid excuse for that blunder, which is why I wanted to do everything I could to rectify it.
It was the reason for my desperation to find a countermeasure the moment I discovered its ability to see ahead in time.
The biological 'Gift' I was born with is a cognitive function far beyond the average person's.
It allows all my senses to transfer and compute information rapidly, at the cost of a somewhat diminished ability to retain past experiences due to the sheer volume of information I constantly receive even in a passive state.
So, while I couldn't see ahead in time as it could, I could still use what I knew about Rita's habits, as well as its instincts as a shadowbeast, to essentially predict and react to every shift in its intentions.
I knew, after all, that foresight is almost useless without the ability to alter the future, so it would obviously shift its actions in response to observing an undesired future.
Luckily, I was right to assume that it stayed activated for short periods, or as long as the battle lasted, else it would quickly overexert its reserves.
I chose to rely on that outcome, while making sure Clarisse would be in place to shut off its main source of energy, which couldn't happen unless I could contend with it long enough.
Regardless, what made it fully possible–and drastically reduced the margin of error–was how many of its options I could restrict through my actions.
By focusing not only on its movements but on the desired outcomes that could drive them, I turned a one‑sided match into a stalemate.
This made Rita's successful retrieval more than possible.
No matter how many outcomes I had to shut down at every instant–hundreds, thousands, or more–I had to ensure I forced its attention to remain solely on me, granting Blue and Yon safe passage, while Red and Tyson remained mostly unscathed.
With that approach, a single would never be set in stone.
The one mistake that nearly derailed everything was how much I overestimated Rita's commitment to their plot.
I would've assumed she'd cling to some delusional ideal, considering how immature she is compared to the other one.
However, it became clear I knew far too little about the true feelings of my officers.
Either that, or Blue proved far too effective.
In any case, the result was nearly losing Tyson to the inverted voids that opened due to the loss of control within their unit.
Incidentally, upon revisiting everything, I believe I finally understand what Artoria had been suggesting when I asked her for advice regarding the Spire.
The "Face of a fate worse than Death," in the context of a creature capable of manipulating space, could only refer to those voids.
Theoretically, if inverted voids are empty gaps that exist both in the physical world and the imaginary space, then the implication is that a temporal gap spans that void as well.
Leaping into the fight against the Spire could only mean she was suggesting a system where someone attacks from within while trying not to fade into nothingness.
This happens to be how Tyson's first attack with those blue flames could have remained effective even if the Spire kept looking into the future.
In theory, while inside that void, Tyson would exist outside the imaginary space, with his only tether being my bandages holding him.
In other words, the Spire wouldn't have been able to see a future in which he attacked until he actually did.
It was such a foolish and dangerous idea in practice that I would have never considered it seriously.
I suppose it's true what they say, those connected to the Desolation are self‑destructive by nature.
I'm glad there was never a situation where I had to willingly risk doing that.
It all ended with Rita safe and the Spire neutralized. That was the best outcome I could have hoped for.
At the moment, I'm making my way toward the rendezvous point to meet the others, but there are quite a few loose ends that require contemplation before then.
First, our arrival in Hortusole was definitely due to external interference. I wasn't certain before, but now I'm convinced.
There would have been no way for the Spire to send information back two years if we hadn't been here.
And that other future suggests it had never met us before, since we would never have been able to leave Hortusole without destroying it first.
That rules out the idea that it eluded us, or that we ran from it.
I could piece together its story through inferences in its actions and by reading the signatures of every form of energy it held.
But I couldn't trace a single clue regarding the other culprit.
It couldn't be the Desolation, as fostering a shadowbeast intent on overgrowing and enveloping the world contradicts their existence.
But I still had to consider that the reason Artoria spared Rita two years ago is likely connected to their affairs.
On top of all that, there is another major issue I can't ignore.
After repeatedly mulling it over, the most plausible theory I could form regarding the missing fragments of my knowledge–the ones that led to my negligence that night–was that they resulted from a suggestive inclination.
Someone or something significantly more powerful might have commanded my lapse in memory, and the biggest clue is their limited ability to tamper with the deepest shape of my soul.
I've been under the effects of inclination many times in the past, and I acknowledge it as one of the most terrifying aspects of Eminents.
A person could be commanded to act against their will, yet remain unaware of any external control, even if directly informed.
Of course, commanding the soul is far more difficult, but for someone powerful enough to command another's mind, it wouldn't be an impossible task.
However, I'm a special case.
Nine years ago, my soul was forced to take a different shape.
If someone truly attempted to erase my memories, they would have failed to remove the aspects of my life imprinted upon my soul.
Specifically, assurance.
The things that bring me comfort aren't always things I'm consciously aware of.
It might explain why my actions that night contradicted my thought process.
Unfortunately, I still can't determine whether these affairs are related, but I have decided which takes priority.
The Nebula is meant to focus on a single endeavor at a time, exempting us from periodic dispatch missions. That will be to our advantage.
It's becoming clear that my initial plan won't come to fruition without addressing this immediate mystery, and the first step is making contact with the Desolation without losing our lives in the process.
The underlings of the Apostles are merely executioners. If we wait to be approached, it's unlikely anything will unfold in our favor.
Still, we have far less time to devote to this task than I wish we did. After all, my original motive isn't something I can set aside for long.
This knowledge isn't a product of foresight or divination, but irrefutable evidence I discovered entirely by accident.
In ten Orbital ages, I must reach the CBC and overtake the mantle of VEIL's commander‑in‑chief.
I don't believe I'm the only human who knows about it, but what the Proliferation showed me, when I stepped to the utmost edge of the Conmundia, was the end of all life, a premature end befitting an indefensible existence such as this world.
Circling back to that thought would be redundant and add another level of stress, so I'll take a brief break.
I'm still a ways from our designated location, but I seem to be bleeding profusely again.
The hole in my chest hasn't fully healed since I gave my jacket away, and my mental state has deteriorated beyond the point of subconsciously mending it while moving about on the verge of passing out.
Besides, I believe I've earned the right to be lazy for a short moment before meeting them again.
I've decided to take a nap among the soft‑looking bushes beside me, not because I don't feel like finding a more comfortable spot or anything.
And I'm sure they have plenty to catch up on, so they shouldn't miss me too much.
Who am I kidding? I'm probably the last thing on their minds right now.