I Can Copy And Evolve Talents - Chapter 1268

Chapter 1268: On The Nakhari and Their Coming [part 2]
Some Reikis have weak body abilities. Some have strong. Some have abilities that seem useless until the moment they are needed most. There is no pattern that has been found, though many have tried and many have failed and many have written long scripts about their failure which I have read and found mostly useless.

The Reikis were warriors in the old times. This is natural. What else would you do with such strength? They guarded the Mourgen borders. They fought in the wars that are not written of in common histories, wars that pre-dated even the beginning of the First Civilization, the Echo Realm, the Origins. They died in numbers that would have ended any normal bloodline.

But they did not end.

They are still here.

Fewer now. Mixed with common blood over generations so that the gifts run thin in some families and strong in others. But still here. Still carrying El Fach’s body-gift in their bones.

—

ON THE BEIJA

The Beija are harder to write of. The body can be seen. The soul cannot.

Where the Reikis received strength of flesh, the Beija received strength of spirit. Soul-gift is what the old texts call it. I do not know if soul is the right word. The Mourgen tongue had a different term that does not translate clean. Something like soul but also like essence and also like the-part-that-sees-what-is-real. I use soul because it is close enough and because I do not know a better word.

The Beija have abilities of the soul. Like the Reikis, these are separate from Talents. Born with. Inherited through blood.

But here is the strange thing.

The soul-gifts of the Beija most often show through their eyes.

—

Northern’s breath caught.

He read the line again, the faded ink seeming sharper now, more immediate.

‘The soul-gifts of the Beija most often show through their eyes.’

[All Eyes], that later evolved to [Li’ae’l] and then [Chaos Eyes] and was now Shingan the [Demon Eye].

‘Does that mean I’m Beija… no. All Asgardians are Beija.’

The connection was obvious once he saw it. So obvious he almost laughed. If the Ancient Emperor of Reimgard had married an Asgardian, this might have been exactly what they were trying to bring forth—a union of bloodlines, a deliberate mingling of gifts.

However, this made Northern think… Was he going to be the only bastard of the Emperor? The only experiment?

He didn’t think so.

The realization didn’t crash into him—it settled, like a puzzle piece sliding into place. Like something he’d always known but never had words for.

He kept reading, hungry now.

—

Why this is I cannot say. Perhaps because eyes are where the soul looks out from. Perhaps because El Fach was called the Burning Eye and so the gift naturally settles there. Perhaps for reasons that stars know and men do not.

A Beija may have eyes that see truth from lies. Another may have eyes that see the flow of essence in all things. Another may have eyes that can look upon a man and know his Talent without being told. Another may have eyes that do things I cannot describe because the texts use words I do not understand.

These eye abilities became famous. So famous that in later times the Beija came to be known by another name.

The Asgardians.

—

Northern closed his eyes.

‘Ah…’

When Anike used it, he had assumed it was a clan name. A regional designation. Some obscure family line from a forgotten northern corner of the world.

Not this.

Not star-touched. Not the descendants of a union between humanity and a celestial being. Not an ancient race that predated recorded history.

He sat with that knowledge for a moment, feeling it reshape the architecture of everything he thought he understood. The term had always seemed so ordinary when Anike spoke it. Just another label. Just another way of saying different.

‘I don’t think even Anike knows about this…’

He opened his eyes and continued.

—

I do not know why this name. The texts do not explain. Perhaps there was a place called Asgard where many Beija lived. Perhaps it was the name of a great Beija hero. Perhaps it is a word from a language older than the Mourgen tongue. I write what I find and I find no explanation.

What I find is this: over generations the term “eyes of Asgard” or “Asgardian eyes” came to mean any Beija who possessed strong eye abilities. And then over more generations the term grew to cover all Beija whether their soul-gift showed in their eyes or not. And then over more generations still the original name Beija began to fade from common use until only scholars remembered it.

Now most say Asgardian and do not know they are speaking of the Beija. Do not know they are speaking of El Fach’s children. Do not know anything of the Nakhari or the Luminance Star or the union that created a new kind of being.

This is why I write. So that what is known does not become unknown.

—

‘This scribe understood something important.’

Knowledge died. Names faded. Meanings drifted until the original truth was buried under layers of assumption and convenience. The Beija became Asgardians, and no one remembered why. The Nakhari became legend, and then myth, and then nothing at all.

Except here. In this worn book with its rough leather cover and its fading ink, tucked away in an archive that most people would never think to search.

Northern turned the page.

—

ON THE MIXING

Some will ask: can a Reiki and Beija produce children together?

Yes. This has happened. This happens still.

What comes from such union is not predictable. Sometimes the child is Reiki with body-gifts only. Sometimes Beija with soul-gifts only. Sometimes neither. Sometimes—and this is rare—both.

—

Northern’s body went stiff.

This had been something he was just thinking about. If the Beija and Reikis were mixing from time past, there was a chance that the purity of their bloodline could not be compared to the days of old anymore. The gifts would have diluted. Scattered. Some lines would carry strength, others only echoes.

But that wasn’t what made his spine tighten.

He also had to consider that the former Emperor of Reimgard had pursued the Asgardians to the brink of extinction and used whatever was left of them to formulate bastards that were separate from the Reiki bloodlines.

Possibly trying to bring back the strength of whatever came from the union between Reikis and Beija. And whatever it was…

‘Let’s read further before concluding.’

—

A child with both gifts is called different things in different texts. Half-blessed. Twice-touched. Full Nakhari. I have seen one text that calls them “complete” as if the single-gifted Nakhari are somehow incomplete which I think is wrong and possibly insulting but I record it anyway because that is my purpose here.

These dual-gifted children are rare. Very rare. One in a thousand unions perhaps. Perhaps less. The texts do not agree on numbers and I suspect no one actually counted.

What is agreed is this: dual-gifted Nakhari are powerful. Sometimes too powerful that they are considered a different race from humanity… something… demonic. There are stories of such children who could not control their gifts and destroyed themselves and much around them. There are other stories of such children who became great heroes or great villains depending on who is telling.

I do not include these stories here. They are too long and I am running out of good ink.

—

Northern let out a breath that was almost a laugh.

‘Running out of ink.’

Here was this ancient scribe, recording knowledge that could reshape Northern’s understanding of himself, of his family, of his entire bloodline—and they were worried about ink. About practical concerns. About the simple, mundane reality of a lamp burning low and a hand growing tired.

Something about that felt grounding. Real. A reminder that even world-shaking truths were written by ordinary people with ordinary problems.

‘I think I would have liked this person.’

He read the final section.

—

FINAL WORDS ON THIS FRAGMENT

I have written what I know of the Nakhari. Of the Reikis and their body-gifts. Of the Beija and their soul-gifts and their eyes and their later name of Asgardian.

There is more to write. The wars. The scattering. The mixing with common blood. The families that still carry strong gifts. The families that have forgotten what they are.

But my hand is tired and the lamp burns low.

I will write more when I am able. If I am able. These are uncertain times and I do not know what tomorrow brings.

What I know is this: the Nakhari are real. El Fach’s gift is real. The blood remembers even when the mind forgets.

This is what I have learned.

This is what I leave for those who come after.

May they read better than I write.

—

Northern closed the book.

He sat there for a long moment, the worn leather warm against his palms, the weight of the text heavier than its physical form had any right to be. The silence of the archive pressed in around him—dust motes drifting in the lamplight, the faint smell of aged paper and old bindings.

‘The blood remembers even when the mind forgets.’

He ran his thumb along the book’s spine, feeling the texture of centuries-old leather beneath his skin. Somewhere in the distant past, a scribe had sat just like this—tired, running low on ink, uncertain about tomorrow—and had chosen to write anyway. Chosen to preserve what they knew so that someone, someday, might find it.

And Northern had found it.

‘Thank you,’ he thought, though he didn’t know who he was thanking. The scribe, maybe. Or El Fach. Or whatever strange convergence of fate had led him to this archive, to this shelf, to this exact book.

He tucked the volume carefully into his pack and stood.

There was more to learn. More to understand. But for now, this was enough.

This was a beginning.

‘I’ll find the remaining fragments’