The Pinnacle of the World

I sat in a chair beside my mother. The man was still looking at me. Moreover, he was smiling at me. Perhaps, he knew who Kurose was.

“Then, Qifrius,” my father said, his hands clasped on the table. “Let me tell you what happened to Kurose last night—...”

He explained to Qifrius what happened to me yesterday. What I came to know is that Kurose was reading a book with his mother before I reincarnated. Perchance, the book I read wasn’t the book Kurose’s mother was reading with him. Because I had noticed a book atop the shelf when I woke up, but I didn’t pay much attention to it—but now, the situation had changed, so I had to check it myself.

“So, Qifrius, I told you everything that happened to Kurose last night. Can you examine him now?”

“Okay, Ven-san,” He replied, sipped the last sip of his flower tea, and stood up. “Kurose, stand and step closer to me.”

I didn’t know what he was doing. I stood up, and walked closer to him. He tapped over my shoulders with his hands, then hovered a hand over my hand.

“Kurose. Don’t move now, okay?”

I gave him a nod. He closed his eyes, inhaled a deep breath, then exhaled. As I wondered what he was doing, standing still, a thought pierced my mind. If I remember precisely, my father had said he was bringing a Priest here. And in actuality, this man gave the impression of a Priest. However, something seemed off. If my vague recollection of memories from my past life serves, there wasn’t a single existential being, God, or Goddess left in my world. Then, how could the man in front of me be a priest? As I pondered my mind on the spectrum possibilities and couldn’t reach a conclusion, he spoke. This time, his voice was sharp and his expression was stern.

“The Goddess of Light: Clartia.”

“Offer Thy blessing unto this lost child, and thus grant him the power to seek the light.”

Suddenly, a bunch of twinkling pale blue particles gathered in his hand, then as he sighed, they began trickling down over my head, to my shoulders, then glimmered and disappeared as they reached my feet.

He opened his eyes, smiled and rubbed my head. I was frozen and astounded by what had just happened. Then, countless questions tumbled down upon me.

What if this isn’t my world? A drop of sweat dropped onto the wooden floor. Why is there a Goddess? Who’s Goddess Clartia? The Goddess of Light? Who’s she? And how can I attain information about her—

“Ven-san, Kurose is alright,” he said, looking at my father. “You don’t have to worry about him.”

“Really? That's great news,” He said, and relaxed on the chair as a feeling of relief showered upon him. “My decision was correct to bring a Priest—”

My father stood up promptly. “Qifrius, what about the ceremony? Can he participate?” His expression was grave, and I was curious about the ceremony, as well.

“Yeah, Kurose can participate in the Aurelion Ceremony.”

I parted my lips to say something, but hesitation left me with a pause, then in a second, I spoke.

“What’s the Aurelion ceremony? Qifrius-san?”

Without wasting any moment, he tapped on my head swiftly. He was polite, yet comfortable around Kurose. It was plausible that it wasn’t Qifrius’s first time to meet Kurose. He had met Kurose quite a few times judging on his current demeanor.

“Didn’t I tell you yesterday? Have you forgotten already?”

“Umm… Yes.”

He sighed. “Okay. I’ll tell you again, but this is the last time.”

He dragged out a dining chair, then crossed his arms and legs as he settled into the chair.

“Then, I’ll begin. Listen closely, Kurose.”

I sat in the chair, and looked at him as I clenched my fists. “Okay.”

He told me the Aurelion Ceremony was the first rite brought into light hundreds of years ago to grant blessings to people and guide them toward an end in tranquility. That was it. The Aurelion Ceremony wasn’t complicated to me. If anything, it was simple for me to comprehend.

“Understood, Kurose?” He said, drumming his fingers against his knee.

“Yes, I understand. Thank you, Qifrius-san.”

He glanced at the clock hung on the wall, and stood up.

“Then, Ven-san, I’ll take my leave.” He slightly bowed to my father.

“Okay, I’ll see you again, Qifrius.”

He grabbed his hat that was resting on the table, and ambled toward the door, then looked behind him.

“Well then, Kurose. I’ll meet you again.” He said with a smile, and pushed the door open and left as he closed it.

There were a lot of questions lingering in my mind. But for now, I was thinking why did he say he’ll meet me again. There were no chances whatsoever for us to meet again, but I wasn’t certain. That’s why I left them to the things which would occur next as the time would pass everyday.

—

“Good night, Kurose.”

“Yes, mother.” I replied.

She closed the door. A few flickering candles in the candelabrum on the shelf illuminated the room on their own, otherwise, the room was encompassed by darkness. A few hours had passed since Qifrius left the house. I had checked the closet, and the majority of the books in it. As far as I was concerned, they were untouched, and had no engraved name at all. The only books that had a name engraved on their leather cover was the book in the closet, and on the shelf. Although I didn’t flip the pages of the book on the shelf because I didn’t want anyone to suspect me, I read the book name. The name of the book was “The World: Wonders Even Toddlers Can Learn.”

A few moments had passed, everyone was asleep. I stretched my arm, grabbed the book, brought it closer to me with a candle to lighten the area around me to read. I flipped the cover of the book and on the first page—the words on it seemed to be the name of the author who wrote this book and the year in which it was written.

Written in the Founding Era Year 579.

By Joseph Roswalth.

The Founding Era Year 579 was obscured to me. If I remember, the year I decided to reincarnate was 1959. I inferred that the Founding Era may possibly be connected to Goddess Clartia.

I leafed through the pages for a while and turned the page to chapter one.

Goddess Clartia: The Goddess of Light.

I suppose Goddess Clartia was a wonder to the world, though I didn’t expect her name to be in this book. As I flipped the pages of chapter one and read every page thoroughly. I found a substantial amount of information about Goddess Clartia which wasn’t trivial.

Goddess Clartia. The one who emerges from light itself, and the creator of the Aurelion Ceremony. She ventured to create the Aurelion Ceremony due to the impurity that escalated in the world hundreds of years ago. The Goddess of Light grants blessings to her devotees and guides them until they are in tranquility. And factual statements about her that I didn’t believe were the truth.

The Goddess of Light was real it seems. I didn’t know about the impurity that brought Goddess Clartia to venture to create the Aurelion Ceremony. And I didn’t care. What intrigued me was how many years ago it happened. It wasn’t mentioned in the pages I read, but if I could find it, it could be linked to the Founding Era. I turned to another page, but there was nothing. And every page after it was blank too. I realized and sighed that there was nothing I could do. However, when I flipped to another page, the second chapter began. I felt shivers down my spine as I read the name on it.

Hero: Yusaka Kurose.

The King.

It was written for me. And what was written below the name bloomed the spark of curiosity inside me even more.

Once revered as the greatest Hero in history. Yusaka Kurose became the strongest king the world had grasped at that period of time. When he was alive, the mere title of a king was not ample to justify his strength. Perhaps, the Hero never became a king. Then, who was he? Nobody knows. And nobody will know because the Hero: Yusaka Kurose died ages ago.

Knowledge and written by —

There was nothing left rather than blank pages in the book after the second chapter. The name of who wrote about Yusaka Kurose wasn’t written, but whoever they were—they were incorrect about a fact. Yusaka Kurose didn’t die.

I closed the book, and let out a long yawn. The day passed like a breeze but I was in a child’s body. It was obvious that I would get tired. I placed the book back on the shelf, relaxed my head over the pillow, and fell asleep.

Once again, I woke up to birds chirping. The night had passed. I lifted myself up against the hands and raised my arms into a stretch. Since there was nothing much for me to do, I stood up and made my way downstairs.

I noticed my mother was in the kitchen, cooking a dish in the same cooking pot.

“Good morning, Kurose.” She said, noticing me.

“Good morning. Mother.”

“Sit in one of the chairs of the dining table. The breakfast is almost ready.”

“Okay.”

As I walked to the dining table, I peeked sneakily at the kitchen counter to see what she was cooking, but I wasn’t able to guess it. It smelled delicious, though. The scent of the food drifted around the kitchen and throughout the living room. I let the smell through my nostrils, then I could identify a mixture of milk, herbs, and a lot of spices when I sat in the chair. After a while, my mother gently placed the dish on the ivory linen tablecloth. It was in a polished white ceramic bowl, then she placed a spoon beside the bowl.

“Here, Kurose. Eat it slowly, okay?” Mother said, wiping her hands on her apron.

“Thank you, mother.” I replied, wrapping my fingers around the spoon.

“I’m going to take breakfast to father outside, enjoy your meal!” She rubbed my head softly, and took another serving from the kitchen counter and went outside through the front door.

I glanced at the door, then looked back at the meal. I wasn’t famished, but still the aroma of the dish made my stomach growl. I swirled the garnished herbs on top of the creamy white texture with the spoon gradually. I didn’t waste any moment and ate a bite.

The soft potatoes melted in my mouth as soon as I munched them a little, and the crispy onions crushed gently. The starchiness of potatoes, combined with the smoky, mellow sweetness of the charred onions paired perfectly with the flavor white creamy sauce blended with the herbs and spices. As I ate every spoonful bite, I thought about the statements I read about Goddess Clartia yesterday.

Why did the new age commence when Goddess Clartia descended upon the earth? I mulled about the first statement, spinning my spoon absentmindedly. I reached a conclusion quite quickly. It may possibly be true that humanity had marked the genesis of an era in their books when Goddess Clartia obliterated impurity, and therefore, named it the Founding Era.

The first question wasn’t what intrigued me the most. My second question was what could be called terrifying or puzzling.

The first statement wasn’t terrifying, or scary enough to make you feel dread. But the second factual statement I read about Goddess Clartia was slightly terrifying.

I tapped my fingers on the table in a rhythm, then sighed.

Why was a quarter of humanity destroyed upon Goddess Clartia’s descent on Earth?
Even if I tried, my knowledge wasn’t enough to comprehend why humanity was destroyed. In the book, nothing regarding the deeper history was written.

Before I knew it, I had eaten my breakfast. I carefully placed the ceramic bowl in the sink and washed my hands. I didn’t know where the water was flowing from, and I didn’t pay attention to it. I closed the tap, and my eyes shifted to the entrance in front of me. I had to pass through the living room to go outside. My mother had said she was going to my father. In an instant, I dried my hands with the towel hanging on a book beside the sink, and ran toward the door. As I was pulling it, I noticed a pair of slippers beside the door and wore them.

This time, I hesitated. As my hand reached the door handle, I gulped. It was the first time I was going outside. I carefully wrapped my fingers around the iron ring and hastily pulled the door open.

The warm breeze pushed against me, brushing my face with its familiar comfort. I narrowed my eyes and raised a hand over them as the sunlight was more than I could bear—when I lowered my hand, I saw a warrior in a simple white cotton shirt and a tan-colored tunic, swinging his sword so elegantly that it seemed to cleave the wind itself.