"What?" Noir said with a shaking voice, a sudden pump of adrenaline passing through his veins.
The old woman remained silent, simply watching him with a soft, knowing gaze. The cool breeze, tasting of salt and distant lands, tugged gently at the wisps of her white hair. She sat there on the weathered rock, utterly unmoving, as if she possessed an eternity, all the time in the world to wait for him to catch up.
"What is that supposed to mean, old one?" he finally managed, the question strained.
"Who knows?" she replied, her voice calm, almost too quiet against the steady, rhythmic crash of the waves. "You'll just have to figure it out yourself. Seek the truth, and chaos will await you. But only those who confront that chaos get a glimpse of what truly matters."
It wasn't an answer; it was a riddle, delivered with the enigmatic grace of the sea itself. Noir frowned, confusion warring with a growing, prickly frustration. "Chaos? What chaos? What truth am I supposed to seek?" His chest still ached, a constant, dull throb, a very real, very physical problem grounding him. And this old woman, she was speaking in circles, offering riddles when he needed clarity.
She gestured vaguely, a sweep of her hand encompassing first the vast expanse of the sea, then back towards the cluster of quiet village homes behind them. "The path to understanding yourself is rarely easy. It demands courage. And a willingness to face the unknown, to step into the vastness of what you don't yet comprehend."
"So, what, I just wander around until I find this 'truth' and 'chaos'?" he asked, a sharp hint of sarcasm lacing his voice, though it was mostly for his own benefit.
"Well, that certainly is the journey you've chosen," she said, a faint smile playing on her lips, "the journey into the unknown that has now called to you."
She then reached into the pocket of her worn coat. "I can, however, give you some basic information that will possibly help you along your way." She pulled out a golden coin, its intricate crest glinting softly in the fading light, and pressed it into Noir's open hand. "Here, take it."
Noir's gaze immediately dropped to the heavy, unfamiliar coin, tracing the ornate patterns of its crest, before flickering back up to meet her ancient, knowing eyes. "What is this? Why are you giving it to me?"
"Well, let me tell you a little about how this world operates," she began, her voice taking on a slightly more informative tone. "This coin is the currency of The Continental."
Noir, still captivated by the coin's mysterious crest, simply asked, "And what exactly is that?"
"This world operates on different systems of conceptual, abstract, or other kinds of power," she explained. "I also hold the status of an Angel from one of these very systems: The Pathways." She paused, allowing the weight of the titles to settle. "Often referred to as conceptual pathways or divine pathways, these hold abilities related to different concepts; mine, for instance, is Judgment."
"I've heard of this before, about the pathways," Noir admitted, a flicker of genuine intrigue finally catching in his voice. The abstract nature of it resonated with something deep within him.
"You can become an Ascendant after getting a pathway," she elaborated. "These can either be attained through worshipping the respective deity associated with that concept, or more commonly, via the potion of the pathway."
"And what is this Angel thing you mentioned?" he pressed, the earlier fear receding slightly, replaced by curiosity.
"The pathways operate on a tiering system, with 10 sequences ranging from 9 down to 0," she clarified. "Sequences 9 to 6 are considered low sequences, making you an Ascendant. Mid sequences, 5 to 3, grant you the title of a Saint. The highest tiers, Sequences 2 to 0, are high sequences; a wielder of 2 or 1 is an Angel, and a Sequence 0 wielder is a True God."
"So, you are a Sequence 1 or 2 Angel, right?" he deduced, looking at her with new eyes.
"Not exactly," she corrected gently. "Some pathways have Sequence 3 as an Angel too. I'm a Sequence 3 Angel."
"Is there anything else you want to tell me? Perhaps about this Continental," Noir asked, his gaze now fixed on the colossal ship steadily drawing closer, its presence dominating the horizon.
"The Continental is an association founded by the Church of Creation," she answered, her voice dropping slightly, becoming more hushed. "It establishes rules and maintains order among the divine entities and those who wield their power. I can't disclose much more information about it, not yet, but that coin... that coin is your key. Use it to enter into the world of power that truly awaits you beyond these shores."
The ship, a leviathan of dark wood and creaking rigging, had finally arrived, its massive hull now towering over the small pier. A gangplank, heavy and solid, groaned as it was lowered, extending an invitation.
"It's for you, young man," the old woman stated, a knowing twinkle in her eye, indicating the path now laid before him.
As Noir stepped onto the swaying gangplank, the heavy scent of salt and unfamiliar wood filling his senses, the old woman's voice carried clearly over the lapping waves, stopping him in his tracks.
"Young man!" she called out, her tone surprisingly direct. "Before you go... would you consider marrying my granddaughter, by any chance?"
Noir spun around, dumbfounded. "What? Where did that come from?" He stared at her, utterly bewildered by the abrupt left turn in their conversation.
"Answer my question," she insisted, her gaze unwavering, a hint of something more serious beneath her calm demeanor.
He paused, a thousand thoughts rushing through his mind, before blurting out, "What do you even see inside this... this shell?" He gestured vaguely at himself, at the weary, confused man standing before her.
The old woman's face softened, a gentle, almost beatific smile spreading across her features. She looked at Noir, her calm eyes piercing through the layers he presented to the world, seeing something profound. "A gentle soul," she whispered, the words carrying the weight of ancient wisdom, "who has simply forgotten his true nature for a time."
The ship Noir boarded sailed away, leaving her alone on the shore.
She murmured to herself, "Shall we meet again, I would like to serve you, I would like to be of service, my Majesty of Gods...
...Mr. Fool."