LIGHTNOVELWORLD Chapter 5: Gaia
Aruknia Institutions was the largest and most prestigious educational university in the world. Situated prominently, it overlooked the entire capital city of Miran, the heart of the Kingdom of Elysian. Amidst the glorious palaces of educational branches, there stood the White Tower, which seemed to tower over everything—everything, that is, except the Resplendent Sun. At the highest floor of this lofty tower, where an Omniscient Eye burned in eternal wisdom, there was an office. In hindsight, calling it an "office" was an understatement.
From instruments crafted by the finest artisans to laboratories brimming with untapped potential, to floating shelves lined with knowledge ranging from the mundane to the esoteric, which could drive the unprepared to madness—all of this was but a fraction of the highest floor. Ultimately, it wouldn't be far-fetched to call this place a manifestation of Knowledge itself.
At the heart of this vast sea of knowledge stood a simple yet neatly arranged ivory table, accompanied by three silver chairs. One of those chairs, positioned at the helm, was already occupied by the master of the White Tower.
He appeared as an elderly man, draped in elegant golden-white clergy robes adorned with the emblems of the Resplendent Sun, displayed with a quiet and reverent distinction. His features, visible only beneath the hood that shaded His face, were sharp yet refined. At His side rested an open book, marked with an omniscient eye, tethered to Him by a golden chain. But it was His eyes that truly commanded attention—golden, brilliant yet barely visible under the shadow of His hood. However, even the faintest glimmers of their light carried an immense depth, as if nothing, not even the most well-hidden secret, could escape His gaze.
He was none other than Herabergen, the Wisdom Angel of the Creator and the Omniscient One.
Herabergen was enjoying a serene day. Nothing had disrupted His usual routine—at least, not yet. He still had ten minutes of peace left. Until then, the Wisdom Angel continued to be deeply engrossed in His research on the Symbolism of Mother and its vast effects on civilization. For the past two years, this had been His top priority, a pursuit that had yielded progress—grim, painstakingly slow progress—as though someone who nearly embodied the very essence of the Symbolism was actively working against Him. But hurdles existed only to be broken, after all.
The pages of His Book of Omniscience turned steadily as the golden quill moved in a ceaseless rhythm, recording the vast flow of knowledge. Then, as the tenth minute passed, everything stilled. From the hallway flanked by near-endless bookshelves, His disciple—Thalion Halloway—stepped forward, emerging through the blue shimmer of illusory, stacked doors.
Herabergen closed His Book of Omniscience with a quiet finality, His gaze shifting to His disciple. Under His Omniscient eyes, layers of knowledge about Thalion unraveled in an instant, new revelations glimmering like stars in a vast cosmos. From the mundane detail of what Thalion had eaten for breakfast today to the extraordinary milestone His disciple's digestion of the Mysticism Magister potion within three months, everything was laid bare before Him. He gave them all a cursory glance, before focusing deeply on a star that didn't belong to Thalion, one that was shining so brilliantly than any of Thalion. It was a star representing the manuscript carried by Thalion.
"Congratulations are in order, Thalion," the Wisdom Angel broke the silence first. "It's only been three months. You've yet again set a remarkable standard for everyone."
"Sometimes, it feels like more like a burden than a standard, teacher," Thalion chuckled wryly, pausing between the silver chairs surrounding the ivory table. Though his posture remained straight, the wryness in his expression softened into gratitude. "Still, thank you," he acknowledged, but not without swiftly placing the manuscript on the table. "This is what you asked for,"
Herabergen chose not to press further. The self-loathing Thalion carried, like invisible yet unyielding weights, was a burden only he could unshackle by confronting his past. Any comforting words from Herabergen would only echo hollowly in Thalion's heart. And yet, for him to take the next step—to ascend as a demigod, a Prophet—his current state of mind simply wouldn't suffice. It was time to guide him toward the right path, gently but firmly.
Herabergen's thoughts raced at near-light speed, calculating a suitable course for Thalion. But He held back from taking action, refusing even to let the outline of a plan take shape in the recesses of His mind. Instead, His full focus—every fibre of His being—remained fixed on the manuscript before Him. It demanded nothing less.
"Is this the first one?" He asked, His voice calm yet weighted with expectation.
"Yes," Thalion confirmed, his eyes gleaming with curiosity as Herabergen picked up the manuscript. "This is the first manuscript Gaia submitted to the Printing House. We've verified that it's not the original she wrote The Shards of Unity in—just a revised copy. Will this do, teacher?"
"Oh, yes," Herabergen nodded, His lips curving into the faintest hint of a smile.
Being Sequence One—Omniscient Eye—granted Herabergen the authority of Omniscience. With it, He could uncover all information about anyone or anything He gazed upon: their past, present, and future unfolded effortlessly before Him. Yet, like all authorities preceding Godhood, it came with its limitations. The most notable restriction was that He had to gaze upon His subject to activate it.
Of course, the definition of what constituted a 'gaze' was subject to interpretation—a loophole Herabergen had skilfully exploited since ascending to Sequence One. This ability to manoeuver around the restriction became even more pronounced when He digested another Omniscient Eye characteristic, solidifying His transformation into the King of Angels of the White Tower Pathway.
At that moment, Herabergen's Omniscient eyes gleamed brilliantly as They fixed Their gaze upon the manuscript, particularly the name engraved upon it:
Gaia.
Immediately, the manuscript began to shine brilliantly, radiating beams of light that coalesced into luminous stars all around Him and the table. Each star shimmered with Knowledge and Information, brimming with secrets waiting to be uncovered.
But before Herabergen could act, something—no, someone—interfered!
Just as He had used the Manuscript as a medium to indirectly gaze at its Source, the Source, in turn, could use the very same connection to gaze back at Him.
Ordinarily, this was not entirely possible—unless, of course, the Source in question existed on the same level as Him, or perhaps even higher.
And in this case—
The brilliant stars of Knowledge solidified, moving of their own accord, each pulsing with a unique rhythm.
They had been granted Life—true Life of their own!
One by one, they broke free from the rigid confines of Herabergen's authority, escaping the brightness of His golden eyes. They did not wish to shine solely for His calculated gaze, devoid of warmth.
No—they longed for something more. They desired reality, they desired freedom, they desired warmth, they desired…
MOTHER!
The Stars of Knowledge descended upon reality, their glowing, pulsing forms growing ever brighter, blurring the boundaries of reality with their brilliance. They yearned for their Mother, their entire essence directed toward that single, undeniable need.
Thalion, who had been watching with curious anticipation, stumbled back in shock at their overwhelming presence. He would have immediately lost control under the torrent of Knowledge and Information radiating from the stars. Yet, strangely, the flow of Knowledge bypassed him entirely, as though he did not exist in their senses. Not just him—their presence caused no harm, no anomalies to the world around them. Their focus, their very existence, was consumed by one thing, one singular purpose.
Herabergen, however, remained unmoved. His omniscient gaze, cold and calculating, showed no trace of surprise as He regarded the now-living Stars of Knowledge.
"Thalion," He commanded sharply, His voice cutting through the air like a whip, instantly breaking any lingering influence over His disciple. "Come near me."
Thalion obeyed immediately. His terrified eyes darted away from the Stars of Knowledge, and he kept his gaze fixed on his teacher. He dared not look upward again, his head bowed low, hidden within the shadow cast by Herabergen's imposing figure.
Herabergen remained still, His expression calm and unwavering as He watched the Stars of Knowledge call out to their Mother. Yet the tension betrayed Him; His grip on the Book of Omniscience tightened ever so slightly, a subtle crack in His serene facade.
Finally, the air shifted. The connection, established through His indirect gaze, deepened, solidifying beyond His control. Through that connection, in response to their call, an illusory, ethereal projection descended—a radiant woman, barely distinguishable beneath the intense, blinding light of the Stars of Knowledge that swarmed toward Her. She was the Mother, the singular purpose incarnate.
The Mother opened Her brilliant arms, welcoming Her Stars of Knowledge—stars that bore the entire Knowledge corresponding to the manuscript of "Shards of Unity." One by one, they fell into Her embrace, into Her being, into Her command.
As the last Star of Knowledge vanished within Her, the Mother finally turned toward Herabergen. Green eyes filled with Life met the golden eyes of Omniscience for a brief, silent moment before the Mother smiled. Her illusory form began to fade, leaving nothing but a single rose behind.
A pure, white rose floated gently toward Herabergen's hand. The Wisdom Angel grasped it with deliberate purpose. His Omniscient eyes instinctively turned toward the manuscript lying on His table. But under His gaze, nothing was revealed.
The name of Gaia no longer shone.
"Teacher…?" Thalion began hesitantly.
"It's fine," Herabergen said, His tone heavy with meaning. "It's fine, Thalion. Take a seat."
Thalion shakily complied, sitting in one of the two silver chairs facing Herabergen's, where the Wisdom Angel himself took His place. Herabergen poured a glass of water imbued with a serene aura and passed it to Thalion.
"Thank you, Teacher," Thalion murmured, his voice tinged with gratitude. He took a few sips, his trembling gradually subsiding. With a sigh of relief, his gaze shifted back to the manuscript, but it landed instead on the white rose that hadn't been there before, now resting quietly beside his teacher. "Who—what was that…?" He swallowed hard, his fingers tightening around the glass.
Herabergen slowly removed His gaze from the rose. "Do you know the meaning of the name Gaia?" He asked, His tone rhetorical.
Thalion, despite his uncertainty, attempted to respond, a strained smile tugging at his lips. "Flowers? Or… something deeper than that…?"
Herabergen allowed a faint smile to grace His face. "You're not entirely wrong," He replied lightly.
"The name Gaia means Nature in the first dialects of Jotun. It directly correlates with the Will of Nature."
Several deductions had already solidified in Herabergen's mind:
To be the Sequence One of the Mother Pathway—the Naturewalker—is to embody the Will of Gaia. This grants authority over Nature itself. But such authority, though vast, should come with restrictions, confined to grounded the concepts of Nature—such as the Environment, the Biosphere, and the very Earth beneath our feet. However, if the Naturewalker were to possess or accommodate the Uniqueness of the Mother Pathway, their authority could extend beyond these realms, into the Nature of something else—something as vast as a...
Civilization.
"Will of Nature?" Thalion blinked, his gaze boring into the Manuscript. It no longer seemed so ordinary. "Then this Gaia and that… that…."
"Yes," Herabergen confirmed solemnly. "They are connected. Symbolically, at that."
By bearing the name of Gaia, the Shards of Unity were written. Each word in the manuscript is imbued with power—purpose.
With Change.
This is no ordinary book.
"The Shards of Unity…" Thalion took a moment to steady himself, his gaze fixed on the name in the manuscript. "And those stars? They were taken, weren't they? Taken by her…" His voice faltered, unwilling to utter the name.
Herabergen didn't answer; He didn't need to. His silence was confirmation enough.
By taking control of the knowledge embodied in the Shards of Unity, Change could be further solidified and manipulated. Even if the Mother Uniqueness didn't grant unrestrained scope, this act would guarantee its impact on Civilization through the Shards of Unity.
A Symbol of Change, however restricted it may be.
Thalion drained the glass of serene water before speaking again. "Teacher, what does this all mean? The Stars, the Shards of Unity..everything—what's happening here?"
Herabergen didn't answer directly. Instead, He asked, "The Shards of Unity have been approved, haven't they?"
"Yes, yes, teacher." Thalion nodded, still confused, before a flicker of hopeful realization crossed his face. "Should we revoke the manuscript?" He hesitated, unsure. "Or… is that even an option?"
Herabergen's gaze was firm. "Let it be published. And if other branches of the Printing House wish to distribute it, let them." He finalised, "The Shards of Unity shall not be suppressed."
Thalion's concern deepened. "Teacher…"
"And," Herabergen interrupted, cutting him off, "Gaia will participate in the Zenith Exhibition. Along with Ouroboros, this event is bound to be unprecedented. Pass the order to increase security to the highest level; I will not tolerate the rise of Chaos during the exhibition."
Thalion fell silent, his thoughts churning as his gaze drifted to the white rose that hadn't been there moments before. Slowly, he turned back to his teacher. Though he said nothing, Herabergen could see the trajectory of his student's deductions.
The Wisdom Angel sighed deeply—a heavy, deliberate exhalation. "Patience, Thalion. You will understand soon enough."
Thalion nodded, steadying himself with a deep breath. As he rose from his seat, the faint outline of illusory, stacked doors began forming behind him. "I will pass your orders on to Anastasia, teacher. They will be enforced without fail."
With those words, he stepped into the shimmering doors. In an instant, he was gone.
Herabergen's gaze lingered on the white rose, his expression unreadable. For a moment—just a fleeting moment—His thoughts flowed unrestrained.
I thought my inferences and predictions were near perfect, yet you still managed to surprise me. Your beginning was successful, but the path ahead is still riddled with hurdles.
I've done all I can for you.
The Wisdom Angel picked up the white rose with deliberate care. The white rose, under the grace of the Lord, symbolised purity, transformation, and, above all, new beginnings.
You owe me, Ombella…