Bro, I'm not an Undead!

Chapter 1163: Empyrean Bosom (3)



The Second Layer of the Empyrean Hatcher was not like the First at all.

Upon reaching it from the beam of erect light which seemed to be tearing through from the First Layer and onwards towards the Third, Replicus felt a bit of resistance all around him. Suddenly, it was as though he was swimming in the ocean, but perhaps water wasn't the exact consistency of whatever was around him.

It was slightly thicker and it could not be seen. Replicus could only discern the distortions it caused in this massive space, which was brightly lit. The walls and ceiling of the Hatcher could barely be seen, like in the First Layer, but they still depicted dense murals with messages hard to interpret.

Replicus was floating.

There was no ground to stand on, but he felt that if he wished to move upward or downward, he could do so very easily.

His six Strawlers had followed after him, and in two neat lines, they followed behind, awaiting a command.

Replicus looked around.

Understanding filtered into him. Unlike the First Layer, this place wasn't exactly for leisure, but what some might call wisdom. How such an idea was expressed, Replicus didn't know, but he wasn't so impatient that he couldn't explore this place and see for himself. He drifted upward. It barely seemed as though he was moving - because of the similar surroundings - but he knew he was.

From his right, he sensed a great degree of excitement and then saw a school of fish that looked a lot like pike swim around him, Ju`wtte blazing from their fins and tails!

The fish looped around him and then swam away happily, puzzling Replicus.

He saw more of them swimming around in the distance. There was a wide variety, some Replicus found familiar, and some that he didn't. They all blazed with Ju`wtte all the same, and some seemed to wave to him with their fins.

This reminded him of the cheerful, ignorant dolphin guardian, Fuwin, who had been guarding the Temple of Unlusted Tears.

As much as Replicus received a consistent stream of knowledge for everything related to the Warmoth, there seemed to be some kind of barrier to some of the finer details he should know. For instance, it was revealed to him that these fish were not exactly real, living beings. They only existed in the Empyrean Hatcher. In a way, it was kind of like how an Incandescent Stager could manifest objects and living things within their Territory, but of course, these things would vanish when the Territory was dispelled.

Where Replicus' comprehension failed him was when he tried to understand the exact composition of these creatures. He knew that he could create creatures like the ones he saw now, here in the Empyrean Hatcher, and the method to do so was available yet blocked in a

sense.

Perhaps it was because he wasn't the Warmoth, but instead, its progeny that caused such a problem.

Replicus continued still to climb higher and higher. Oddly, the higher he climbed, the more it seemed like the unseen substance around him restricted his speed and ability to rise. For now, he didn't yet feel enough force to stop him, thankfully.

Everything around him seemed to grow brighter and more radiant, even though there was barely anything other than the fish in sight.

Replicus had begun to wonder when he would meet something he could interact with, when a thick, rolled-up scroll suddenly appeared - with a sliding transition - above him.

Several more appeared around the Warmoth's Progeny and all of them at once, like curtains, began to unfurl, dropping long sheets of pristine white paper down below to the unfathomable depths.

Voices called softly from the scrolls and Replicus, after a closer look, saw that there was writing on the sheets of paper they unfurled. It was all large, dark and incomprehensible, but Replicus soon realised that the soft whispers he heard were all narrating what was written. Unfortunately, he couldn't understand what the whispers meant with each sentence they expounded either.

Replicus sighed.

What was he to do here?

Once again, the theory that he might be missing some key elements in order to comprehend some of the things here, got a bit more validation.

How was he to proceed then?

Another scroll appeared above him and unfurled, the sheet of paper it bore streaking right in front of Replicus as it fell below.

This sheet was blank. No writing could be seen on it and no voice came from it.

Replicus frowned, an idea swimming into his head.

He reached behind him to one of the Strawlers, and before he could give the order, a large, stylish quill pen had formed in his hands; it was evidently one of the Strawlers' doing.

'I knew it. So that's what this room is all about, huh?' Replicus thought and drifted closer to the blank sheet, hesitated only for a moment, and began writing on it.

The moment his quill touched the paper, it seemed as though a switch had been turned on in Replicus' head.

At once, he found himself - with the help of his phantoms - scribbling with fine, exhaustive detail about Maximum Catalyst, its Reversion, its Progression and its Neutral. He wrote about the process in which he received it and he wrote about the ways in which he had thought so far to improve it as a wildly valuable concept with immense versatility!

It all came gushing out and his hand didn't stop moving!

He kept scribbling furiously!

He wrote about [Neutral Acumen] explaining its merits and demerits, and when his mind arrived at this point - where he was currently facing a bottleneck with his application of Maximum Catalyst... it galloped ahead, driven by an unnatural force that inspired Replicus

and his thought phantoms!

Over the several meters worth of writing he continued to cover on the sheet, expanding more on the potential applications and nuances of Maximum Catalyst, Replicus was both

flabbergasted and awed.

A voice began to leak from the scroll, his own voice, speaking in hurry, and then...

[You have learned 'Maximum Reach'!]

[You have learned 'Neutral Impact'!]

[You have learned 'Maximum Constant'!]

Replicus pulled himself from the scroll at once, and found himself to be panting.

His arm was aching, as was his entire body.

'What in the...'

It appeared that Replicus had understated and underestimated the effect of this Layer.

He had initially thought it was simply a place to write down ideas and hear them constantly get read in order to maximise focus, but no. This Layer allowed one to get such a staggering dose of inspiration that could awaken skills and applications of certain, complex concepts

with apparent ease!

All the other scrolls he saw likely belonged to the Warmoth and he had written on so many, expanding on ideas he had and perhaps even actualising them into tangible strength!

This was...

This was... ri...

'R-ridiculous!'

To top it all off, Replicus, as he looked up, saw more and more scrolls, still shut tight, further

beyond the wall of open ones.

His phantoms, ever shrieking theories, moulded the idea that perhaps.... That maybe... the effect he had felt just now... intensified the higher Replicus went in this Layer. The different heights of the scrolls - of which he was floating around the lowest one - could represent the

levels of inspiration he could gain.

This thought didn't remain a theory for long.

Replicus saw that the scrolls settled several wide notches above the plenty he could see blazed with different colours and effects. They seemed to be holding fantastical, terrible mysteries and powers that the Warmoth had created; they remained shut and out of reach.

Replicus attempted to float up to their level.

Immediately, he sensed another surge in the resistance around him. It was as though he had switched from swimming in a pool of citrusy pulp to swimming in wet concrete!

He mustered all his strength in an attempt to rise further up, but he only moved several inches

before remaining completely still.

He stopped trying a moment later.

The open scrolls continued to mutter their secrets, inviting him.

'I guess I really was right. I'm missing a lot,' he thought as he looked at the open scrolls. 'I'm

sure at some point I'll be able to read or hear what these scrolls are saying and maybe even

learn the secrets the Warmoth scribed onto them.'

Indeed, this much was now clear.

This was what the Warmoth had left behind and it was all now Replicus' to claim!

Replicus donned a grin.

He drifted down to his own scroll.

Scribbling on it was quite exhausting for some reason. When he did it, caught in a frenzy, it

seemed as though every bit of his strength was converted into fuel for his mind.

'I can't scribble for long too, can I?' he thought. 'Another one of my limits, no doubt.'

But Replicus' grin didn't disappear.

This was immensely pleasing. His choice to pursue the Warmoth's legacy was showing a lot

more returns than he expected.