explosivecombat | NIETZSCHE; DEAD PHILOSOPHERS' INBOX

I hope you're not drawing an implicit comparison between him and me, just because of what I said.

What made you choose explosions? I assume you chose them, given the variation in method from alchemist to alchemist.

Of course not; I wouldn't still be talking to you now if I believed there were any comparisons of the sort to be drawn.

And of course I chose them; anyone who claims that the method "chooses" the alchemist is either lying or greatly romanticizing the process. However, what I've told you so far doesn't give a proper indication of what it is I do, and for that I apologize - my specialty isn't so much "making things explode" as it is energy conducting and manipulation. It's a discipline that's largely unexplored and incredibly difficult to utilize without running the risk of killing the alchemist.

With that in mind, it was the challenge in doing something unique, something that no one else had done, that drew me to it at first. The explosions came later, and were admittedly accidental at first; as my own drafts and theories progressed, I found ways to weaponize them. My methods are entirely unique, much to the interest of my country's military; as of this point, my efficiency and power have yet to be replicated by anyone else, and I remain the only person to have mastered the discipline.

[That might be because channeling large enough amounts of energy to blow up a city block through one's own body is generally recognized as a really bad idea by most, but details...]

[Yes, well, dangerous or not, she can certainly understand the draw of aiming to do something no one else has before. And it's kind of comforting to hear out of Nietzsche now; even if he doesn't always seem to have that passion and ambitious drive now, at least he had it once, and that's something.]

And yet you've managed to master it with no adverse effects? Consider me impressed with my teacher.

I never said that; I've made sacrifices for my craft, as everyone does. But any adverse effects I've suffered have long since been dealt with, and I consider the results to have been more than worth it; I put a lot of stock in the idea of 'adapt and overcome.'

Let's see, then. You've told me about the dangers of meeting the demands of equivalent exchange, the nature of rebounds, the possible consequences of certain types of reactions and why some are strictly forbidden as a result, and now the possible adverse effects of certain kinds of alchemy I might specialize in.

Sooner or later, you're going to run out of negative things to caution me about, and you'll have to start naming some of the positives instead.

Would I come off as too much of a stereotypical villain if I said that the power alone is more than enough of a reward?

Enough so to risk losing yourself a student because of it.

You really are no fun sometimes, you know.

But very well, then. Shall I tell you about the Eastern Sage? It's a far more positive story, I promise.

I'll indulge you a bout of maniacal laughter someday to make it up to you.

And I do like stories. Please do.

It's an old story - dated back about four hundred years or so, I believe, during the days of a kingdom called Xerxes. It was a thriving kingdom, prosperous despite the fact that it was situated in the middle of a large and incredibly hostile desert; it had healthy trade relations with a neighboring country known as Xing, and its civilization was very advanced for its time. Many who lived there possessed great alchemical talent, and they were capable of acts that would be considered miraculous even by modern alchemists.

However, reasonably few people in my nation have heard of Xerxes by name; it's more commonly referred to as the nation that disappeared in one night. The king of the land craved an artifact said to bring the wielder immortality; in attempting to obtain it, an array was constructed, the people of Xerxes sacrificed in an attempt to satisfy the king's greed. Ironically, the king also perished, accidentally killed by the rebound caused by his own array.

However, the attempt wasn't entirely in vain; the artifact the king sought after so badly was created, at the expense of most of the country; very few people survived, and almost all of them fled upon realizing what had happened. Perhaps to Xing, perhaps north; I'm not really sure where they ended up. But there was one man who remained, who sought answers to what had happened and found the artifact that the array had created. In finding it, he received the coveted gift of immortality; however, knowing it was at the cost of literally a million of his countrymen, he was determined to see that the tragedy at Xerxes wouldn't be repeated, and to ensure that the souls of those who had perished could be returned to the Gate properly and not remain bound to the earth due to the nature of their demise.

And so he traveled to the west, toward the center of the world, where alchemical power is at its strongest; he met a small group of individuals that were settling there, establishing their independence from the countries they'd left behind. After some time, he began to teach them the wisdom that had been present in Xerxes, teaching them how to cultivate the land and thrive despite harsh conditions; after some time, he taught them alchemy. However, there was a law that he laid in place for all alchemists to follow, that wasn't to be questioned and should be taken as one of the vital life-concepts: alchemy was only to be used to benefit mankind. Not to satisfy one's lust for power, or to allow one to cause wanton destruction as they saw fit; alchemy was a gift to humanity, and it should be treated as such - it should be cherished as a blessing, not made into a curse. The people called him the Eastern Sage, or perhaps the Philosopher from the East, depending on the speaker; he's still greatly revered among the people of my country.

The Eastern Sage still lives today, seeing as how he still has immortal life; he's still present within our country, though very few know who he is or would recognize him if they saw him. He's still conducting his own research; it's said that he intends to return the souls from Xerxes to God himself, once he has the means.

It's a bit dark, admittedly, but then, a lot of origins are; at the very least there's hope in this one, which makes it a bit better than most of my stories.

The nation that disappeared in one night. There's a story somewhat analogous to that in the world I come from, and the name Xerxes isn't entirely foreign to me, either — I've heard it as the name of a warrior king. But the nation I'm thinking of was also said to be advanced beyond its time, capable of scientific miracles, and in some variants, associated with notions of eternal life. That nation met its end when it sank beneath the waves in a single night, and people have searched for it ever since. It's an interesting coincidence.

If you know so much about this Eastern Sage, then would I be wrong to assume you've met him yourself?

Is that so? An interesting coincidence indeed; what was this nation of yours called, through curiosity?

As for your question...I have, yes.

They called it Atlantis. There are a handful of stories about lost civilizations, but that one by far is the most famous.

And as for the Sage: did you like him?

It never really occurred to me to like or dislike him, actually; bear in mind that he's literally an ancient being that's credited as bringing alchemy to my country, and as such he demands a certain level of respect.

As it stood, I only spoke at length to him twice, during which times he imparted a good amount of valuable information to me; for a time, I was something of an assistant to his children, and I called the Sage himself 'Father,' as he requested - not through any sort of implied familial affection, but just because it was the title he preferred. Unfortunately, however, I'm not really on good terms with the family anymore.

That's unfortunate. A falling out, I take it? Don't tell me your interests conflicted with his and you had to part because of irreconcilable differences.

The falling-out was with his eldest son, actually; the results weren't very nice, to put it lightly.

Well, now I'm curious. But somehow I have a feeling I'll be better off if I don't know the intricate details of that particular conflict, won't I.

There have been several things that I've asked about that I would have been better off not knowing; that didn't stop me from asking anyway, because what with the sort of person I am, I was still better off knowing than curious.

I'll tell you if you want to know.

No wonder we get along so well.

Tell me, then. We've started the story already; we might as well finish it.

His son was captured by individuals who had reason to oppose Father; I was notified and sent to defeat the enemy and bring him back, as the Sage's other children were dead, missing, or otherwise occupied at the time.

I was severely injured in the battle that ensued; his son finished the job.

The son in question was extremely powerful; I'll ask at this point that you recall what I told you about how one can do alchemy as long as they have a soul to draw on. Obviously, you can draw on your own, but that will only get you so far before you start taking time off of your lifespan. However, I never said that the soul you use has to be your own. The son had an artifact on his person, a physical container in which to keep the souls of others, to draw on them as he saw fit.

When he killed me, he destroyed my body and added my soul to his collection; unfortunately enough for him, he wasn't figuring for the concept of anyone's soul retaining consciousness after such an act, and I was able to use that to my advantage reasonably well - I was able to hinder his power enough during a subsequent battle that the artifact was destroyed.

Of course, so was my soul along with it, but so it goes.

...

'But so it goes'.

All that, and that's all you have to say?

What else would you have me say?

I don't understand how, in light of all that, you can be so content to take your cues from someone else's initiative while you're here. Accepting what happened, maybe, because there's no sense in doing anything else when there's no way of altering those circumstances, but...

You left, and now you know exactly what's waiting for you if you should ever leave again, but for the duration you're here with literally an entire world of opportunities available to you. We spoke once of evolution, and you thought you'd finished yours; I don't understand how you could, given those circumstances — not when you're at a point where every day is so precious that to stagnate almost seems an insult. You were the one who told me the days we spend here aren't meaningless, regardless of what we're going back to. I don't...

...

I'm articulating myself badly. Forgive me, and take it as simply a facet of being upset.

I certainly hope you aren't upset on my behalf; I'm a horrible person to waste the sentiment on.

I suppose the question I have to ask you now, however, is why you consider living as I choose to live to be meaningless or otherwise squandering the opportunity that I've been given. Why you consider such a thing to be stagnation.

I don't understand. Perfection is a motivation, and it gives you a reason to strive. I don't understand why the context hasn't changed with your environment. Why does a soldier without a war care how perfect a weapon he is? Why are you still...attached to that, if there's no reason for it here and no opportunity for you to return to it later? You've been a scholar, soldier, and teacher, so you can't tell me the way you live now is all there is to you. What makes you so determined to stay the way you are, in light of the knowledge that you're going to have to anyway once you leave this world already?

You might have to resign yourself to revisiting this topic with me again and again until I've truly grasped it. I hope that's not a problem.

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