As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the village, Gordon walked home, his shoulders slumped, his steps heavy. He felt a deep sense of dejection while Souma was comfortably settled at the hunter guild, welcomed as a hero after his cleansing of the village. Elias was thrilled, and the air at the guild crackled with renewed optimism.
Meanwhile Gordon felt utterly defeated. He had thought Bertha's anger was the worst possible outcome, but being completely ignored was far more painful. It was a cold, sharp sting that made him felt insignificance.
He replayed the scene in Bertha's office over and over in his mind. The way she had openly flirted with Souma, her eyes sparkling, her voice soft and inviting, while he stood there, invisible, unheard. It was a public humiliation, a stark demonstration of her revenge.
He had tried to be friendly, to be helpful, but she had dismissed him as if he were nothing. The blatant favoritism towards Souma, the way she hung on his every word, was a knife twisting in his heart. He felt a wave of self-pity wash over him, a feeling he rarely allowed himself to indulge in. He just wanted to go home and forget everything.
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Inside her office, Bertha leaned back in her chair, a triumphant smile playing on her lips. "Serves him right," she murmured to herself, a dark satisfaction spreading through her. She had enjoyed watching Gordon squirm, feeling the sting of her deliberate indifference.
"Who told him to sneak attack me?" she muttered, the memory of Gordon's unexpected kiss flashing again through her mind. A blush crept up her neck, staining her cheeks a delicate pink. "God damn it, Gordon..." she sighed, a hint of frustration in her voice.
She was caught in a confusing whirlwind of emotions. She should hate him. He had violated her personal space, taken advantage of her surprise. Yet, a part of her, a small, stubborn part, couldn't deny a flicker of admiration. It was his boldness, his audacity. Since when had Gordon possessed such courage? He had always been so quiet, so withdrawn. The sudden display of… well, whatever it was, had thrown her off balance. She was still trying to reconcile the shy, awkward Gordon she knew with the man who had kissed her. It was… perplexing. And, she had to admit, a little intriguing.
Bertha's musings were interrupted by a hesitant knock on her office door. Ben and Fred shuffled in, their expressions a mix of curiosity and apprehension.
"Boss," Ben began, his voice raspy, "we were wondering… about that… side job?"
"Yes," Fred chimed in, his brow furrowed. "The one with the… new position?"
Bertha plastered on her most reassuring smile. "Ah, yes! The field agent position! Excellent timing. I was just about to finalize the details."
"Details?" Ben asked, his one good eye narrowing slightly. "What kind of details?"
"Well," Bertha said, her voice smooth, "it's a very… dynamic role. You'll be assisting me with… various tasks."
"Tasks?" Fred repeated, his confusion deepening. "Like… milking goats?"
Bertha gave a strained laugh. "Not exactly, Fred. Think of it as… expanding your horizons. You'll be using your… unique skills to help the kingdom."
"Unique skills?" Ben grumbled. "Like what?"
"Like… your keen observation," Bertha said, gesturing towards Ben. "And your… unwavering dedication," she added, turning to Fred. "And, of course," she continued, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "there's the potential for a… significant salary increase."
Ben and Fred's eyes widened. "Salary increase?" they chorused, their interest piqued.
"Indeed," Bertha confirmed, nodding emphatically. "A substantial one. Think of all the… extra cheese you could buy."
"Extra cheese?" Fred asked, his eyes lighting up.
"And maybe… a new hat," Ben added, his gaze drifting towards his worn, patched headwear.
"Exactly!" Bertha exclaimed, her smile widening. "The possibilities are endless! All you have to do is… be available when I need you. And follow my instructions."
"Instructions?" Ben asked, his suspicion returning. "What kind of instructions?"
"Just… simple tasks," Bertha said, waving her hand dismissively. "Nothing you can't handle. Think of it as… an adventure!"
"An adventure with more money?" Fred asked, his tone hopeful.
"Precisely!" Bertha said, her smile radiating false enthusiasm. "Now, are we all in agreement?"
Ben and Fred exchanged hesitant glances, their greed battling with their confusion. The promise of extra money won out. "Alright," Ben grumbled. "We're in."
"Good!" Bertha said, her smile turning predatory. "Excellent! You won't regret this." She hoped.
Once Ben and Fred had shuffled out of her office, their minds buzzing with the promise of extra coin, Bertha settled down to write her reports. First, she penned a carefully worded account of her new "field agents." She emphasized their unwavering loyalty, their dedication to the kingdom, and their… eagerness to serve. She carefully omitted any mention of their limited intellect or their primary interest in goat.
Next, she turned her attention to Souma Silenthill. She began to write a detailed observation of the young sentinel, carefully noting his behavior and personality. "Souma Silenthill," she wrote, "is a young man of considerable talent, eager to prove himself. He displays a commendable dedication to his duties, though he can be somewhat impatient. He is also, it must be noted, remarkably… oblivious."
She paused, a wry smile playing on her lips. "His lack of awareness regarding social cues, particularly my… attempts at lighthearted interaction, suggest a certain… density. He is, in essence, the type of young man who is decidedly not sensitive, or perhaps, simply, not perceptive." She continued to describe his magical abilities and his dedication to his job.
The night settled over Oakhaven, a blanket of quiet descending upon the village. For most, sleep came easily, a peaceful respite from the day's events. But for Gordon, slumber was a turbulent sea, filled with strange and unsettling dreams.
He found himself in a dimly lit lecture hall, the air thick with an almost tangible energy. Standing before him was a figure he vaguely recognized, though he couldn't quite place them. Their features were fluid, shifting, making it difficult to discern their gender.
The figure spoke in a low, resonant voice, their words echoing in Gordon's mind. "The first step," they said, "is to master the still mind."
They gestured with a graceful hand, their movements fluid and hypnotic. "The mind and heart," they continued, "are like the ocean, always swaying, always restless. Still mind is the technique to calm those turbulent waters, to smooth the waves and ripples until the surface is utterly still."
"When the ocean of thoughts is calm," they explained, their voice growing more intense, "all its energy can be focused, directed. You become a conduit, a vessel for pure, unadulterated intent."
Gordon watched, mesmerized, as the figure demonstrated the technique. Their movements slowed, their breathing became deep and rhythmic, and the air around them shimmered with a subtle energy. He felt a strange sense of calm wash over him, a stillness he had never experienced before.
Ah, that clarifies things. Gordon, in the dream, is not merely observing, but experiencing the memories of the High Priestess, whose soul he consumed. And Edith is the name of the High Priestess in her former life.
"No," Gordon thought, within the dream, his awareness shifting, "this isn't just a lesson. This is her. This is Edith." The realization sent a shiver down his dream-spine. He recognized the feeling, the lingering echo of a consciousness he had absorbed.
He watched, now with a sense of grim understanding, as Edith struggled to calm her mind. He could feel the residual emotions, the echoes of her past anxieties and desires, swirling within the dreamscape. The turbulent ocean of her thoughts was a reflection of her life, a life now intertwined with his own.
He understood now. These dreams were not random. They were fragments of Edith's memories, remnants of her soul, playing out within his subconscious. He was not just a spectator; he was a vessel, reliving her past, experiencing her struggles. And he was beginning to understand the power she once wielded, a power he now possessed, but did not yet fully comprehend.
The first rays of dawn pierced through Gordon's window, painting the room in a soft, golden light. The dream, the lecture hall, Edith's struggling mind, all faded away, abruptly cut short by waking reality. Gordon's eyes fluttered open, his mind still swirling with the lingering echoes of the dream. He lay in bed for a moment, trying to piece together the fragments of the vision, the strange sense of connection he had felt to Edith. The lessons, the struggle, the power—it all felt strangely real, more than just a dream. He sat up, a sense of unease settling over him. He knew he couldn't ignore these dreams. This was rare knowledge, a path to becoming stronger without needing to join organizations like the sentinel. Maybe he could learn cool spells like Souma's cleansing spell, or even cooler ones, the possibilities made him giddy.