Chapter 10: Machineries Soft Hum
"You are something, Asher Jewel."
The words still echoed through his mind. The weight of them pressed down on him, making it harder to breathe. What did Otto mean? What was he really saying? Asher's pulse quickened, a mix of confusion and fear stirring within him.
After a moment, he gathered himself, his voice shaky but determined.
"Can you explain… what that something is?" he asked, his eyes never leaving Otto's.
Otto's gaze didn't waver, and he didn't seem at all surprised by the question. Instead, he responded with the same calm, almost detached tone.
"As I've been saying, we're Beyonders."
He paused, watching Asher's reaction closely.
"Guardians, but also a bunch of miserable wretches who are constantly fighting against threats and madness."
"You'll understand this concept more and more if you climb the sequences."
"It's hardly a pleasant path," Otto chuckled, the sound carrying a blend of nostalgia and quiet sorrow, as if recalling something long past.
Asher blinked, trying to process Otto's words. Climbing the sequence? Guardians? What kind of madness was Otto talking about? His mind reeled, but for the first time in a while, he wasn't just scared. He was... curious.
"Fighting madness?" Asher repeated, trying to wrap his mind around it all.
Otto remarked, his voice less sharp now, more thoughtful. "This has clearly been a bit much. Tell me your story and I'll get off your back for now."
(three asterisks)
Asher finished telling the odd tale, his voice soft and raw, the absurdity of it all weighing down on him.
Otto's expression didn't change much, but his eyes sharpened with an unknown glint. For a long moment, he just stared at Asher, as though considering the story. Then, slowly, a chuckle escaped him.
"No self respecting marauder could ever come up with a lie that bad"
Asher sat back slightly, his mind still reeling. What Otto said made no sense, and yet it made perfect sense.
Barely focused on the conversation any more, Asher began looking inwardly.
The thought came up more than once but I'm really not on Earth anymore…
I'm in Feysac, some empire that didn't exist on any map.
A place with magic feathers, suplexing grannies and these people named Beyonders who I'm apparently one of.
His thoughts all over the place he asked half-mindedly:
"So this really isn't the planet Earth?"
Otto paused, clearly not understanding the weight of the question. His brow furrowed as if he couldn't quite process what Asher was asking. For a moment, there was silence. Then Otto tilted his head, a flicker of confusion crossing his face.
"What do you mean, 'planet Earth'?" Otto asked, his voice slow, almost playful, as if he didn't quite grasp the idea. "This is the world, just... the world. We live here. Why would it need a name?"
Asher blinked, the words not making sense. "What?" He stared at Otto, trying to make sense of the absurdity of it. "You don't—don't you understand? This world—your world—has to have a name, right? Like... like Earth is for me. Earth is where I came from."
Otto gave him a blank look, scratching the side of his head with the whirling mechanical hand.
"Earth? This world? Nah. It's just the world. That's all we need."
He waved his hand, as if dismissing the very concept.
"The sun's the sun. The trees are the trees. Names are for those who need 'em."
Asher's mind reeled even harder. What kind of place was this, where the very notion of a planet's name didn't make sense?
This place didn't just lack a sense of structure—it rejected it. He found himself laughing, despite the frustration gnawing at him. The absurdity was overwhelming.
"Guess so," Asher muttered, shaking his head. The words sounded strange in his mouth, but they were all he had to go on.
Otto leaned back in his chair, casting a quick glance toward the window, where the dimming light of the setting sun filtered through the cracks in the wooden frame. He straightened up, his expression turning a little more serious.
"The sun's already going down," Otto said, nodding toward the outside.
"You're gonna want to get some rest. Share a room with my apprentice, Kaspar. He's a good kid. Don't mind him, he should be quiet enough, but make sure you're up before the sun hits the horizon. You won't want to miss that."
Asher blinked at him, still digesting everything Otto had just said. But before he could respond, Otto's tone shifted, more pointed.
"And, look," Otto continued, his eyes narrowing slightly. "If you think you're gonna escape, feel free to try. But I'd advise against it."
Softening his ever-shifting gaze he added:
"If you've still got any lingering questions, ask Kaspar. He'll know more than I do about how things work around here."
"I'm rather independent these days so he's been taking on most of the maintenance since the last guy left."
Asher didn't reply, still processing Otto's words.
Otto stood up, moving toward the door.
"Get some rest, Asher. Tomorrow's the first day of your internship. You'll need it."
(three asterisks)
After locating the dorm room assigned to him and Kaspar, Asher paused at the unmistakable clicking and whirring of tools echoed from the other side
Stepping inside was like crossing between two entirely different worlds.
The left side of the room was immaculate—everything in its place, from the neatly folded bedspread to the organized closet and a modest nightstand. In stark contrast, the right side was utter chaos.
Books lay haphazardly across the floor, a toolkit spilled over the desk, and the gas lamp on that side had been modified to blaze with a blinding intensity.
In the center of this disorder sat Kaspar, his soot-streaked hands busy amidst an assortment of tools, springs, and scrap metal. Nestled in his lap, resting on sheets stained with dirt and grime, was a peculiar creation: a small patchwork rabbit cobbled together from mismatched metals, gears, and springs.
Kaspar looked up with a wide grin, waving enthusiastically.
Whether he had forgotten or simply didn't care that Asher couldn't understand a word he said, his greeting was brimming with uncontainable joy.
Before Asher could even reach the nearby bed, Kaspar launched into an animated display of gestures, motioning urgently toward the rabbit in his lap.
His excited babbling filled the air, a chaotic melody of incomprehensible words that made Asher feel more like a spectator than a participant.
Then, without warning, Kaspar tossed the contraption in Asher's direction. Startled, Asher jerked back as the rabbit tumbled to the floor with a loud clatter.
To his surprise, the little device sprang to life almost instantly. Gears clicked into motion, and the rabbit rose unsteadily on its spindly legs. Then, with remarkable precision, it began to hop back and forth, its balance maintained by subtle shifts in its mechanical frame.
Asher watched in awe as the rabbit moved, each hop smooth and deliberate, as though it were alive. It wasn't just functional—it was ingenious.
Before he could fully process the display, a faint screeching sound emerged from the rabbit. One of its gears suddenly shot loose as it hopped, flying across the room and ricocheting off the wall.
The gear struck the modified gas lamp, which shattered instantly. The brilliant flame flickered and died, plunging half the room into shadow.
Kaspar barely flinched. With a casualness that suggested this wasn't his first mishap, he leaned over and turned a valve on the wall. The faint hiss of escaping gas stopped as the supply cut off.
Meanwhile, the rabbit performed one last, lopsided hop before collapsing in a heap of twitching parts.
Kaspar scratched the back of his head, letting out a sheepish laugh.
His expression was a mix of pride and regret, as though acknowledging both the brilliance and chaos of his invention.
Finding himself unable to care about the world around him, Asher stumbled towards his bed.
The day's events weighed heavily on Asher, his mind a chaotic swirl of confusion, awe, and sheer fatigue.
Without a word, he crashed onto the bed, the springs creaking under the sudden weight. Reaching out with a tired hand, he flicked off the remaining gas lamp, plunging the room into a soft darkness illuminated only by the faint moonlight.
With a dismissive wave toward Kaspar, he muttered something unintelligible, his tone making it clear: Go to sleep!
Kaspar, however, had other plans.
Just as the haze of sleep began to claim Asher, a faint glow flickered on the other side of the room. Groaning, he cracked one eye open to see Kaspar wearing a peculiar contraption—a headband with a candle attached to the front, trapped in a brass frame. The design was bizarre, almost comical in its oddness. The candlelight spilled through the frame, casting a warm, flickering glow across the cluttered space.
Kaspar hunched over the broken rabbit, his tools glinting in the soft light as he meticulously tinkered with its inner workings.
Mumbling to himself—or perhaps to Asher—he launched into a steady stream of words. Though Asher couldn't understand a single thing, the rise and fall of Kaspar's voice was oddly soothing.
It was like listening to the low hum of a distant river, the rambling cadence blending with the soft scratching of tools and the occasional creak of the floorboards. Against his better judgment, Asher found himself relaxing. The tension in his shoulders eased, and the swirling thoughts of suplexing grannies, death, and hopping rabbits began to fade.
Somewhere between Kaspar's unintelligible chatter and the comforting glow of the makeshift lantern, sleep finally claimed him.