A couple hundred metres away from the café, two men stood on a rooftop overlooking a crowded shopping street. Despite the incident not too far away, the city’s bustle stopped for nothing. In any case, no-one paid the two inauspicious agents any mind.
“Boss.” Hideyori Hakana was on the phone. “We’ve traced the boy’s psychic signature; we’re nearby.”
There was a pause.
“Yes. The attack on Senketsu High went as expected. All six of the Rejected were destroyed by psychic means. The Queen told me as much, and I had Yoshine and Sumiyaka step through the ruins to confirm once the police left the building. No remains, nothing at all.”
He frowned, listening.
“Yeah, I reckon it’s a certainty.” He nodded. “Just means you were right about him having the potential. Then again, six Rejected in such short time?” He whistled. “Whoever the kid contracted is strong. You already accounted for that, I assume?”
“Oi,” interrupted Meguru Yoha. “Can’t we just go already? This is fucking boring.”
The other man sat down on an air-conditioning unit nearby, hurling a bouncy ball repeatedly against a wall. No matter where he threw it, it always bounced right back into his hands. He threw it again. The ball ricocheted off a wall behind him, hit several more adjacent surfaces on its way, and into his hand right after. Meguru grinned.
“Two more Rejected have been deployed,” Hakana continued into the receiver. Another pause followed. “I’ll observe for now. The moment to strike will present itself in good time.” He raised an eyebrow. “I’d prefer to get a profile on what we’re dealing with first with before I engage personnel. You’ll hear from me soon.” He hung up, then grumbled, “Unbelievable. I can hear the guy as loud as if I were standing next to him. Can’t hear the birdsong anymore for all the tinnitus.”
“Dunno why the hell you needed me here.” Meguru scratched his unshaven chin. The man’s rugged good looks didn’t hide the fact he smelled like too much deodorant. The state his suit was in gave off much the same impression. “Ain’t this already a full squad rollout?”
“Not quite.”
“Then why’d I have to tag along? You’re busting my balls here with this call-out. I was just about to whoop this guy in Tekken.”
“Cut the lip before I bust your balls for real.” Hakana frowned. “You can play your videogames later.”
Meguru scowled. “Why can’t you get another of your dogs to do this? Why me?”
“No-one barks quite like you do.”
He rolled his head idly, and massaged a kink in his neck. “Everything’s on high alert all of a sudden. What a pain. Was this the boss’ idea? I thought taking care of the children was your job, Hakana.”
“You always know just what to say, don’t you?” Hakana folded his arms, then loosed a heavy cough into his sleeve. He tugged on the brim of his fedora, the wind picking up around them, flapping the loose ends of his coat. “If you’re not going to make yourself useful, the least you can do is sit tight and wire your trap shut.”
Meguru pulled a face.
“We wait for now,” Hakana continued, holding another orb in his palm. The view of the street was reflected within. “But if you fancy retrieving the blade yourself, then by all means, be my guest.”
Meguru considered it for a moment, before lying back on the air conditioning unit and stretching his arms over his head. “Can’t be bothered.”
“Then be patient,” Hakana said. “It’s as I told the boss. The moment to strike will present itself in good time.”
Back in the café, all was blissfully still. Most of the patrons had since left, and the voice on the television had faded to a dull drone. Kinuka had curled up on her chair like a cat, clutching the water bottle to her chest. She had no intention of drinking anything; it just gave her hands something to do. Opposite her, Rin was sprawled over his chair, eyes closed. He had nearly expired from exhaustion.
The crash of glass brought everything back into focus. Kinuka bolted upright. The corner doors of the shop had been obliterated. Shards flew everywhere.
Kinuka shook the boy. “Wake up!”
Rin started. Two more Rejected loomed ahead of them, towering in the doorway. He yelped and nearly backflipped out of his seat.
“Rejected—two of them!” Kinuka pointed. “I thought you’d already killed them all!”
“So did I!” Rin couldn’t take his eyes off the things. He seized his satchel from the floor, handing it to her.
The suited man from earlier was backing towards them, eyes fixed forwards. “What the hell are those things? Stay away from me, you hear!?” He yelled.
They didn’t. He was in the way of their true target. One lunged forward and threw a punch. It would’ve connected, too, had someone not seized the man’s collar from behind and yanked him backwards.
“Are you stupid?” Rin yelled. “Get out of here!” He looked over his shoulder to the woman behind the counter. “You need to leave, now! Take the back exit!”
Too scared to argue, she turned and fled, breaking open an emergency exit just out of sight. The man shuffled over the counter and followed.
“How did you know that was there?” Kinuka asked.
“These kinds of floor plans are about as common as you can get,” Rin replied, still taking care to maintain distance between him and the Rejected. “I know them like the back of my hand—”
The reject clocked him square in the face. The impact sent the boy flying, smashing against the wooden panelling on the far wall, sending splinters and debris everywhere. Rin slid down the wall and slumped over, unconscious.
Kinuka screamed his name, but that wouldn’t rouse him. She scrambled to get as far away as she could. It wasn’t far enough. The reject was soon advancing on her. Left with no other option, Kinuka pulled the Ascension Blade out of Rin’s bag. The Rejected caught one sight of it and froze. She stood between them and Rin, warding the creatures away. Their attention was entirely on the knife. Should she throw it away and make a break for it? What was to say they would even go after it? Did she imagine they’d leap after it like dogs? She could throw away their only weapon, their only deterrent, all for nothing!
Then, what was she to do—wait for another miracle? What chance was there of that? Her knees felt weak, but her legs were frozen. Her hands holding the knife’s hilt trembled. All she could do was pray.
Rin opened his eyes to a searing headache, permeating from front to back. How had he survived? He still had a head, somehow. That first reject had turned Mr. Uchino into a bloody smear on the wall. There was no way he could’ve survived a direct hit like that. The last thing he recalled was the reject’s fist an inch from his face, followed by the shattering of glass. His nerves were on fire, as if the impact had somehow jolted his brain into place for the first time. The smallest air currents brushed across his skin. Every noise pinged a spot of colour against the backs of his eyes. Every breath echoed heavy in cavernous lungs. Every little sensation was magnified hundred-fold, but there was no pain; there was no fear. His hands found purchase on the tiled floor, and slowly, laboriously, he pushed himself upright.
“Rin!” Kinuka’s voice shook just as much as her hands. “Somebody help, please!”
He stumbled to his feet, eyes screwed shut, still nursing his head, when he heard the voice of the Architect.
“Open your eyes, boy.”
He did. The spirit floated before him as translucent as before. Both arms were tightly folded. Those ruby eyes in the helmet glared down dispassionately.
“Had I not shielded you there, you would have perished on impact,” said the Architect.
Rin blinked. “That shattering of glass was you?”
The spirit nodded. “My powers extant of your body are fleeting. It will not happen again.”
Rin shivered. He hadn’t even seen the punch coming. The Rejected were bound to attack again. What was he going to do? The Rejected would attack again soon, but why hadn’t they already? He looked, and saw everything slowed to a standstill. Kinuka gripped the Ascension Blade tight. The terror in her face had crystallised. Both Rejected stood still, held at bay, pupils focused in on the knife.
Nothing moved, to the point Rin could even see the rays of light curving through the air.
“Everything’s stopped,” he said, breathless.
“You are experiencing a moment of heightened consciousness,” said the Architect. “Your mind is working at accelerated speed—thus, time passes slower to you for now. Even having performed the ritual, your third eye still slumbers. That shock was the necessary trigger to your true awakening. All you need do now is open your eyes, boy!”
The throbbing in his head abruptly ceased. Rin inhaled sharply as his third eye opened, his mind overcome with sudden clarity. Something had dialled back his field of view to the point of panorama. The entire café was spread out before him. It was almost overwhelming until he blinked, and his sight refocused.
“Those Rejected ahead of you. You know what they are now.”
“Failures of the ritual,” Rin recalled. “All because of the Eye, right?”
“Now you have awakened, you must fully understand. Resonate with them now.”
Rin concentrated, looking deep into one reject’s eye. His head was then filled with a cacophony of screams: one voice split into a thousand tones, every single one in agony. Rin yelled and clutched at his head, bent double.
“Can you hear them, boy? Can you hear their torment?” The Architect continued.
Rin managed a nod.
“Rejected are aberrations, souls corrupted and overrun by the overwhelming power of the Eye. They exist in torturous limbo between the physical and cognitive worlds. Their minds are irreversibly fragmented; their body is no longer their own.”
“I get it now.”
Rin locked his jaw, and closed the channel between them. He never wanted to hear those awful sounds ever again, if he could help it. But, at least he had heard them. Even that awful vision in the Further Plane of their transformation hadn’t fully been enough to convince him of the truth.
“They’re not human anymore, are they?” Rin asked.
“Alas.” The Architect shook his head. “They are not even fit for the physical world. The flow of psychic energy is all that keeps them together. Without it, they burn away.”
Rin stood up properly and staggered forwards, clutching his forehead. “Give me a moment.”
He shivered. A strange energy coursed through his nerves. It electrified, rejuvenated, revitalised him from within. The chaotic purple plasma arced across his skin and danced through the air, just beyond his reach.
“Capture this sensation, boy.” The Architect commanded. “You feel it now, don’t you? The flow of your psychic energy.”
“What is this?”
“Have you ever stopped to consider where it is that your thoughts and imagination come from; why those things exist?” The Architect questioned. “Are you really so complacent?”
Rin couldn’t get a word in edgewise.
“Many call it a soul,” the Architect continued. “The consciousness you and all mankind experience is due to psychic energy. Every second man spend conscious, they produce it. Cognitive tasks consume it, and the cycle continues. Normal people cannot perceive it, however. Now that you’ve awakened your Third Eye, you can see the flow of energy. Now, you can harness it.”
Rin’s jaw slackened.
“This presents a good opportunity,” said the Architect.
Rin cut him a look. “Are you serious?”
“This will be your second test. You must learn to channel your psychic energy to defeat these Rejected,” the Architect continued. “You cannot hope to survive otherwise.”
Rin looked at his hands. He reached for the dancing plasma, and it curled tantalisingly around his finger. “Channel it,” he repeated. “Into a weapon? A technique of some kind?” Already, his mind ran wild with possibility.
“This intuition serves you well,” said the Architect. “Psychic energy can be channelled through two paths. Through the Internal Path, one imbues psychic energy into their own body. The strength of your blows, the hardiness of your form, the speed of your movements. With Internalisation, all can be enhanced well beyond the limits of humanity. That is the only way you will be able to keep up.”
Rin listened and nodded. This was beautiful. It made intuitive sense.
The strength of the mind strengthens the body.
“If psychic energy comes from the brain,” Rin thought aloud, “then, it must transmit through the nerves. If the two minds are united, then I must be able to—” A shocked inhale cut him off, as a surge of electricity lit him up from within. Cascading forks of purple lightning carved Lichtenberg figures through his skin. A cracked scream forced its way through his lips.
“Temper your flow!” The Architect warned. “Your body is not yet accustomed to such power.”
The glowing subsided, and Rin slumped, smoke rising off his skin. “Temper… the flow…” The crackling resumed, but quieter now: a steady hum.
The Architect looked to the Rejected. “This state of heightened consciousness will not last. Time will soon resume, boy. You will have precious seconds to defeat this foe. Act upon your instinct, and strike!”
And just like that, the Architect was gone. The commotion resumed. The groans of the Rejected, the sound of glass smashing underfoot. That entire exchange had elapsed in no time at all. Rin stood motionless for a moment, before his face lit up.
“Amibari!”
“What?” The girl didn’t look back. She was steadily losing ground.
“When I give the signal, pass me the blade!”
She didn’t even have time to process the command. “Okay!”
Rin paused, taking a moment to focus. Psychic energy flowed through him and into his legs. He bent his knees, lowering his centre of gravity. He then took off, moving faster than he ever had before. In the blink of an eye, he appeared between Kinuka and the reject, holding out his hand behind him.
“How did you—”
“Now!” Rin yelled.
On instinct, she thrust the blade towards him. His hand closed around the metal hilt, and he jumped. The ground shook as he soared, the blade held high above his head. Rin let out a yell, and plunged the knife deep into the reject’s eye. The creature screamed. Jets of blood spurted from the wound and all over the shop. It stumbled around blindly, smashing tables and chairs, arms thrashing.
The knife was dislodged from the eye, clattered to the ground, and skidded a few feet away. Kinuka dove towards it.
Rin had kicked off the reject’s body and stumbled to a halt. His vision swam, upsetting his balance. The world fell out from under him, and he lurched to the side, hitting one of the booths. The psychic energy crackled in violent arcs across his skin, a burning from within. Rin anchored himself on one of the tables and seized his head. His skin was flush and burned to the touch. His face was drenched in sweat. His third eye gyrated violently in his skull. His breath came fast and shallow. His nerves were on fire. His vision grew white, before—
“You’re getting carried away.”
The Architect’s voice was a shocking cool balm. Rin stilled and shivered, the sweat cooling on his skin. The edges of his vision returned, to see the commotion in the shop had stilled again, and when he looked around, time had once again slowed to a crawl. Things were moving still, but slowly. Kinuka’s dive sent her skidding across the floor, the Ascension Blade loose in her hand. The wounded reject in front of him still clutched at its face, the other lurking not far behind.
Rin took a deep breath, and felt the current still. “It’s getting the better of me,” he agreed. “I managed it, though. Just then, I channelled it into my legs; forced them to move. It hurt like hell—must’ve gone overboard.”
“Internalisation is simple to access, but difficult to master,” conceded the Architect. “You must stay vigilant, boy. The bounds of your psychic energy are vast, but your body can only handle so much.”
“It feels like I’m burning inside, like my brain is cooking itself alive…” Rin gasped. With every lungful of air, clarity returned. How could he keep it under control? Rin had never stuck a fork in an outlet before, but he could imagine electrocution feeling similar. He imagined turning down an analogue dial on a voltage regulator, watching the needle track down into a safe zone. Almost immediately, the hum diminished, with only the occasional errant purple arc flaring.
“Visualisation…” He said, clenching his fist. A tiny arc zipped between his fingers as they opened. “Yeah, that seems to work…”
The Architect looked around, curious. “Time seems to have slowed for you again.”
“Did you do that?”
The man’s mouth deepened into a frown. “I did not.”
In all the chaos, the pair failed to notice the only patron left in the shop: a suit-wearing individual with wavy blond hair in curtains who, despite the lapse in time, continued to sip calmly from their coffee while reading the newspaper.
How anachronistic.
“You think this is something I can do at will?” Rin asked. “Can I trigger these on command?”
“Doubtful.”
Rin made a face.
“Regardless,” the spirit continued. “You must capitalise on this opportunity to finish off the reject. You must capture and rend it wholesale.”
Rin looked at the reject in disbelief. “That stab didn’t kill it?”
“Hardly.” The Architect laughed. “You succeeded in wounding it, yes, but a wounded bull will only pulverise you more violently.”
“Then how?” Rin asked. “I’m not going to have to beat it to death, am I? If it doesn’t one-tap me, I’ll end up cooking myself from all this energy.” Proving his point, the very mention caused a painful surge to shoot down his arms. He winced and shook his hands.
“You must also walk the External Path, manifesting and projecting psychic energy outside the body.”
“You mean, I can just mindblast these guys?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, boy. Attempts at Externalisation are useless without a blueprint, a conduit for projection. Lightning does not strike without a path.”
The superlative visuals in his head died instantly. Rin’s expression soured.
“Every Psyche User has a Specialty,” said the Architect. “A unique ability, a product of their soul. It is the ultimate expression of one’s psychic energy.”
“That so?” Rin smirked. “What’s mine?”
“You don’t have one.”
His face fell.
“You possess only half of my Ascension Blade; the ritual you carried out was incomplete. Your soul reached out to mine, for me to stabilise your connection to the Eye. If I had to speculate, this comes under the bounds of our contract.”
“Then what do I do?”
“Until you can call it your own, you will instead borrow and cultivate my power.” The Architect brought his hands together and drew out bright white lines between his fingertips. He twisted his hands and wove the lines into a glowing cube, which floated above his palm. “Framework—the power of construction. With few exceptions, Specialties define a Psyche User’s external path. You can create topological boundaries using psychic energy, and shape it to whatever form you desire. When these frames are captured, anything caught in their bounds will be cut out of reality, free for you to manipulate.”
Rin closed his eyes and concentrated. Channel the energy, control it. What if he imagined a circuit board? Slowly, he turned the dial, visualising the pathway. The psychic energy crackled through his limbs, gathering at his fingertips. He imagined drawing a line between each of them and, sure enough, when he drew his hands apart, they were connected. He twisted his hands, brought them together, and created a simple square.
“Did you see that?” He cried. “I did it first try!” He lost focus completely, causing the frame to shatter.
The Architect didn’t look the least bit moved.
Rin hung his head. “At least try and show some enthusiasm.”
“This moment is passing,” said the Architect. “I sense the flow of time resuming. Both of your lives are in grave peril. You now possess the tools needed to survive. How you choose to use them will determine your fate.”
Rin felt the world lurch back into motion, and had to stumble for balance. He took a long, deep breath. The psychic energy charged his hands, but didn’t overwhelm. Approaching the reject, he pressed his fingertips together.
The Architect had announced the name of the ability before using it. Shouldn’t he do the same?
FRAMEWORK
枠組 WAKUGUMI
He pulled his hands apart, drawing out white lines between his fingers. He twisted the lines together, and made a square. It weighed nothing at all, and moved with just the slightest gesture. Rin gripped it tight. Anything in between the vertices would be cut, the Architect had said. He could use this. The reject was still stumbling around, reeling from the injury to its eye.
Psychic energy surged through Rin’s legs once more, and the boy dashed towards the monster. It threw a punch, but he swerved to the side. He swung the square frame at the elbow joint, and the outline passed right through.
“Capture!”
The frame glossed over with a glass-like sheen, slicing right through the creature’s arm. It screeched, lashing out at Rin with another powerful fist. Rin fell forwards and hit the deck, narrowly avoiding losing his head. Slipping on the blood-coated floor, he slid a further metre, colliding with a broken table and wincing as he rolled over shattered glass.
“Are you alright?!” This was Kinuka. She had taken to one corner and made herself as small as possible, the Ascension Blade clutched tightly at her chest. “How did you just do that?”
“Framework,” Rin said. He got to his feet, brushing the glass off his arms. “I can make these shapes, and capture anything between the vertices.” Resolve darkened his face, and he flexed his fingers. “You keep a hand on the blade. I’m going to kill these guys.”
Kinuka couldn’t fathom the purple electricity crackling all around Rin’s body. What was going on?
The first reject was a whirlwind of agony, blindingly smashing tables and punching holes in the wall. The second reject focused in on Rin, massive eye twitching. He stood between it and Kinuka, between it and the Ascension Blade. It roared and charged at him.
Quick, defence—Rin thought. He didn’t have time to evade. Framework was the power of construction. He could make a barrier too!
The reject threw a punch, but Rin was ready.
FRAMEWORK
枠組 WAKUGUMI
He made another frame, much larger this time, and shoved it out in front of him. The barrier tanked the blow, shattering like a pane of glass. The reject stumbled back from the recoil. Rin saw his chance. He made another frame and darted forward. Channelling psychic energy into his leg, he drove a heel into the creature’s sinewy knee. Bone shattered and ligaments snapped. The reject sunk to one knee, its towering form now level with Rin. It reached out to grab the boy’s throat, but Rin had another frame ready. Its hand passed through the square, and the frame captured, severing it at the wrist. Steeling himself through the blood and the screams, Rin created one final frame, a much larger one this time, and positioned it diagonally across the reject’s torso.
“Capture!”
The frame cut clean through flesh and bone; the two halves of the monster’s body slid apart and hit the floor with a thud.
Rin stood still. That reject had once been someone. Maybe he had a family, a son who he never saw. Rin used his third eye and peered into the reject’s own. The screams were more distant. Instead, Rin heard crying. Horrible, wretched sobbing filled his head. He knelt down next to the top half of the reject, still squirming and bleeding all over the floor.
“Sorry.”
One more frame cleaved head from neck. The corpse then began to burn away and disintegrate. Blackened ash stained Rin’s hands, grains sifting through his fingers like sand.
Rin stood and turned to Kinuka, offering his hand. “Grab hold. We’ve got to get out of here.”
Kinuka heard a chilling screech, and pointed. “Rin! Watch out!”
All it took was one strike. Rin tried to speak, but coughed up a spray of blood instead. He looked down to see the reject’s fist protruding through his stomach. The hand retracted, leaving a clean, gaping hole. Rin’s eyes glassed over. He fell, hitting the ground beside his kill.
Kinuka couldn’t look away, she couldn’t blink. Bile surged in her throat. Every vein flooded with ice. Every nerve trapped at once. She no longer had limbs, they were all so numb. All she could see was Rin lying down on the floor, blood oozing from the wound in his chest. She opened her mouth to scream, but nothing could escape. Her head was filled with her own torn screeches.
The reject’s groan brought her back to reality. The ungainly horror stepped over Rin’s corpse, and lumbered towards her. Kinuka shrank into the corner, clutching the Ascension Blade tight against her chest. She pointed it at the creature, but it was no use. Her hands were trembling too much. It didn’t seem to be scared of her anymore.
It’s all over. She screwed her eyes tight shut. I’m going to die here.
The faces of her parents and friends flashed past her eyes.
Please forget about me.
“You really think that I… forgot about you?”
A bright plane of light, a sickening sound. A clean split, and flesh was rent in twain.
Kinuka opened her eyes. Both halves of the reject, cut clean down the middle, now lay on either side of her. The blade slipped from her shaking hands and clattered to the ground. She took a shaky breath. Rin stood but swayed on the spot, holding a larger frame in one hand. Beyond the window in his chest lay the window of the café. Past that lay the outside world.
“That’s so annoying…” Rin slurred, pupils blurring. His cadence was slow, lips taking care to form each syllable. “Wasn’t thorough enough when it mattered.” He chuckled weakly, then coughed. “Then again, I was always undone… by small mistakes…”
And then, he was out. The light in his eyes left, and he collapsed. Kinuka scrambled to catch him, and laid him across her lap. He was still alive, but not for much longer. She felt his blood drench her skirt and leggings, and her vision swam. His heartbeat was dangerously slow, and still falling. Rin was going to die in her arms, and there was nothing she could do about it. Kinuka wept, her tears mixing with the blood that coated her arms, her legs, and the whole shop floor.
She knew prayer was useless.
Which god would hear her, much less care? What god could watch and do nothing?
Each tear burned as it fell. She cursed every name she had ever been taught to fear or worship. Let them hear her now. Let them choke on it. Any god who could witness this and remain silent was no god at all.
If she were god, this would not be happening.
Her ribs ached from sobbing. Salt stung her lips. She wailed to the heavens but there were no heavens above her, only a painfully beige ceiling.
Why couldn’t she be god, even if for just a second?
“So, it’s finally time,” chorused an angelic voice inside her head.
In that moment, all the puzzle pieces, every fragmented memory, snapped into perfect realignment inside her head. Kinuka saw the white spectral shawls enshroud her. “Seamstress!” She cried.
“Your awakening is long overdue, little one.”
The bandage around her forehead fell away, as her third eye shot open. Suddenly, she could see everything—feel everything—all at once. An excruciating voltage lit her body up from within, purple lightning crackling through every nerve. Kinuka screamed, eyes quivering.
Above all the pain, she heard the Seamstress again. “You wish to save him, correct?”
The shock was blinding but brief. Kinuka finally found the strength to grit her teeth and speak. “Yes. I want to save him.”
“Then, let us form a contract.”
Kinuka felt the Seamstress’ spirit loom over her. Her hands then moved by themselves, hoisted on thin threads. The world around her began to unravel, everything splitting apart.
“Held in a gilded cage for so long, you wish to take back control over your own life,” said the Seamstress. “What is your resolve, my dear?”
“For the first time in my life, I have the choice.” Kinuka grit her teeth and stood. Starting with the ends of her clothes, she saw everything around her begin to unravel into a marvellous display of technicolour thread. “I will find out what’s going on. I’ll tear every single lie to threads. I’ll save him, no matter what!”
The Seamstress chuckled. “Then our contract is sealed.”
The reject’s corpse stopped decomposing. Flesh changed texture into something woven, and was forcibly unravelled. The thread rose into the air and wound itself into reams. The Seamstress puppeteered her arms, weaving the thread made of flesh into the cavity of Rin’s chest, healing his wound right before her eyes. Kinuka couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Layer upon layer of organ, fat and muscle was painstakingly reconstructed. With every graceful hand movement, the hole in his chest became smaller and smaller until, at last, it disappeared. The Seamstress faded from sight, and Kinuka’s third eye closed.
Her hands dropped limply to her sides.
Rin’s chest rose, then fell.
For a moment, Kinuka sat there, dumbfounded. Soon she found the strength to stand and, with difficulty, she began to drag Rin out of the café by his arms. They couldn’t stay here. The police would surely come—that wouldn’t help.
She had to get away.
She didn’t know where, but far away from here.
The first time Rinkaku Harigane had entered his Further Plane, there was only concrete beneath his feet, an empty sky above his head.
No longer.
All around him, myriad skyscrapers now stretched up into the distance. Well, not quite. They were featureless and grey at the moment: little more than gigantic pillars, monoliths stretching into that same empty sky.
Rinkaku Harigane lay on his back and stared upward, unblinking. He tried to follow the towers into the heavens, but the tops escaped his line of sight.
He had technically just killed two people.
Then again, Rejected no longer qualified as people. They had been once, but were no longer. Rin had seen inside their souls. He heard their screams, trapped in torment. Their bodies had been reduced to husks, vessels for that terrifying, cosmic Eye.
The Architect’s voice boomed from somewhere nearby. “You have changed already, boy.”
“I’m tired.” Rin said, and it was true. He couldn’t feel the crackling psychic energy pulse through his muscles anymore. His limbs felt like lead. He tried to clench his hands. The tendons in his fingers ached.
“I am not surprised.” The Architect sat on a throne nearby, presumably of his own construction. He gazed down at his inheritor, watching.
“Hey, Architect?” Rin turned his head sideways to look at the man. “Am I dead?”
The spirit held his chin in the crook of one palm. “Why do you say that?”
“That reject… really got me, didn’t it?” Rin felt his stomach and winced. He felt the incomparable shock once more, the moment the creature’s gigantic fist had torn a hole through his gut. “I tried to reinforce my body at the last second, but I suppose it wasn’t strong enough…”
“I would disagree.”
At the boggled stare he received, the Architect sighed. “Yes, your reinforcement was not strong enough to prevent injury—but had you not attempted at all, you would have died instantly. Your reinforcement stabilised a lot of your vital functions post-impact instead. Why do you think you were able to stand back up and finish the job?”
Rin raised and clenched a fist, before letting it fall. “I don’t really remember that part.”
“And so you are willing to write yourself off so easily?” The Architect snorted. “Such talk; how disappointing. And here your pitiful life was saved for naught. What a shame.”
Rin sat dead upright. “You saved my life? Again?”
“No. I kept my word, and did not lift a finger. That honour goes to the girl.”
“Amibari?” Rin exclaimed. “How?!”
“You ought to be grateful.” The Architect still looked unimpressed. “From the way you treat her, no wonder you’re such a miserable little wretch.”
Rin opened his mouth with a retort ready, but fell silent. He stared at the ground, wishing he could just disappear.
“Is she alright?”
The Architect nodded slowly. “You did as you promised. Both Rejected have been destroyed. Well done.”
Rin took a deep breath, then stood. His hands still hurt, but he tried and made another frame. The construct levitated above his hand. He pushed it gently with a finger, and it spun.
“Framework,” Rin repeated, awed.
The Architect nodded. “Your path as a Psyche User has begun, and your Further Plane has developed to match.” He gestured around at the newly-formed towers. “It will develop further still, given time.”
“I’m limited,” Rin said, irritated. “I can only just make these squares. Even then, I can only hold onto them for so long, or else they’ll—” The frame spinning on his hand shattered. “Fuck…”
“Frustrating, isn’t it?” The Architect asked.
Rin nodded, looking away.
“At last, you have found something to apply yourself to.” The Architect nodded. “I suspected there was a reason for your high capacity for psychic energy. You have never had to truly exercise your mind before, have you? Nothing in your life has presented you with a true challenge before.”
No response.
“As I thought. I have seen inside your mind, boy. You seek higher and higher merits, yet tire of the accolades. You invent challenges for yourself to stave off the boredom, continually striving for loftier and loftier projects. Yet, even that is not enough. You have craved true challenge ever since you were a child.”
“What are you, a psychiatrist?” Rin snapped. “I didn’t ask for a—”
“Framework is not a skill that will come easily to you,” said the Architect, talking over Rin until he shut up. “You have potential, but no discipline. It will take everything you think you know, to build competence with an art at the apex of human comprehension. What you employed against those Rejected did not even scratch the surface of what is possible.” The Architect’s grin gleamed from below his helmet. He stood from his throne and strolled forward. “Tell me, boy. What does your true mind look like?”
Rin soured. “Stop calling me boy.”
“…No.”
“Asshole.”
“Answer the question, boy.”
Rin sighed in futility, then spent a little while in thought. He swivelled on his heel, looking around at all the monoliths. “When I performed the ritual, I saw a tower. Glimpses of it,” he said. “It was beautiful, far grander than these pillars.”
“Go on.”
“The flash of it I saw was so brief, but I recall little pieces. I keep thinking about it, can’t quite get it out of my head. I was within the tower, so I couldn’t see it from outside. I ran up a spiral stone staircase, but at every storey there were passages leading elsewhere. Through the windows, I could see other towers. Everywhere was connected, with bridges, passages and stairs that didn’t even make sense. The whole thing felt like an Escher work.”
Slowly, the air was starting to shift. The more Rin described, the more the psychic energy around him began to crackle, and the deeper the Architect grinned. “This is excellent, boy. Hold that image in your mind. Visualise it to the best of your ability. The detail will come with time. In the Further Plane, you can paint in broad strokes. Everything is mutable here.”
Rin concentrated for a second, psychic energy rippling across his skin, then opened all three eyes. Spectral outlines began to overlay themselves in midair, diverging into detail the longer he looked. “I’m starting to see it now…”
“And so am I. It is certainly a start.” The Architect moved his gaze to the sky, then put a hand on Rin’s shoulder, moving him behind. He put his hands together, and steepled his fingers. “Consider this a gift, boy. Allow me to give you a taste of Framework’s true power.”
Performing a complicated gesture with his hands, the Architect manifested several complex frames. He then began to shape them, twisting and pulling at each vertex, adding layers upon layers of detail.
Rin couldn’t help but step closer. Each motion looks so purposeful, yet so intricate—he was enraptured. With one final gesture, the Architect expanded the frame.
“This palace of the mind: I shall carve it from stone!” He invoked the archaic phrase, deep tones booming across the concrete plain. “Behold, Divine Apex!”
With a final clap of his hands, the outline took physical form. The tower from his vision erupted into being, the rush of wind nearly knocking Rin off his feet. It was utterly mountainous: so tall, the peak would elude him for hundreds of miles. A celestial construction of polished stone and marble, with extruding outcrops and impossible spires, stood bold and bright in the absence of a sun, stark against the deep blue skies.
Rin’s jaw was on the floor in an instant.
Ahead of him was the maw of a large staircase, curling its way slowly up the tower.
“This Further Plane is yours to construct,” announced the Architect, folding his arms. “Let this tower serve as your starting step. To fulfil our contract, you must complete your vision. Your enlightenment lies at the peak of this world, but this tower alone will not reach it. Learn the craft of Framework, boy, and build your own world.”
Rin gave the Architect a pained look and said, “That is a lot of stairs, you do realise.”
The Further Spirit frowned. “Then what are you waiting for? Start climbing.”
XCEL 
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