On Being Found and Adopted by Talula

After switching places, on the fifth fish, Orson got to his feet first, his survival instinct roaring within him.

"Um—Sister Talula, how exactly are you fishing?"

Orson took the initiative to ask Talula.

"Like I was taught. Cast the hook, then watch the float."

"The hook... What did you put on your hook?"

Talula reeled in her hook. Wrapped around it was a chunk of... ice.

"..."

"..."

The two looked at each other.

"Are you fishing or trying to catch ghosts?! Even ghosts wouldn't be fooled by something that half-assed... Pff—sorry, I was wrong—"

Orson meekly explained the proper way to choose bait to Talula.

Afterward, when Talula caught her first fish, she showed a clear smile. But remembering that Orson was beside her, she immediately put it away. Still, her melody did loosen up just a tiny bit.

With a plentiful catch, Orson followed Talula to the next place—a crude cross.

This time, Talula did not say what they needed to do. She merely lowered her head slightly and closed her eyes.

Orson quickly understood. This was probably a grave meant to mourn the dead from before, so he closed his eyes as well.

"Who are you mourning?" Talula asked.

"The Infected from those villages."

"And the villagers?"

Faced with Talula's question, Orson gave a bitter smile.

"I have no intention of mourning those people. I'm no saint."

"—You're different from her."

Talula spoke thoughtfully in response to Orson's answer.

"Actually, I had planned to go back to that village with FrostNova today. But FrostNova refused no matter what, so I suddenly had nothing to do. Is she worried about me? What an unnecessary concern. I won't be crushed by something like this... Absolutely not."

Talula's tone was heavy, and Orson frowned.

The melody that had already eased suddenly tightened once more. Not only that, the hidden noise within it became ever sharper and more grating.

"Sister Talula, can I ask you something?"

"What?"

"Maybe this is a strange question, but... do you have another personality? Or have you ever been possessed by something?"

Orson was only probing. He did not expect Talula to answer.

Yet Talula's reaction completely exceeded Orson's expectations.

"Why do you know—?"

Talula spread her palm toward Orson, and a scorching heat wave was ready to burst forth.

Song of Tuning

"Why do you know—?"

The heat wave gathering in Talula's hand was no bluff. The black flame in her eyes seemed capable of devouring everything at any moment.

"I don't know the exact details either...! After that incident, I suddenly started sensing things in my head that were kind of like melodies. And Sister Talula, there's always this really abrupt noise mixed into your melody!"

Orson immediately surrendered. He had no idea which of this young dragon's sore spots he had touched, but he figured he should admit defeat first.

"Melodies...?"

Talula hesitated, then stared at Orson for several seconds.

After confirming that the person before her was not hiding anything, Talula finally lowered her hand with some reluctance.

"Based on your description, perhaps you have awakened your own Originium Arts."

"Originium Arts?"

It was a very familiar name, yet for Orson, who had received no cheat ability in half a year, it was also a very unfamiliar term.

Talula took Orson's confusion for ignorance about Originium Arts. After all, there were not many people in this world who could wield strange powers, especially in a godforsaken place like northern Ursus.

"...Sorry. I was a little too jumpy just now. As for the 'noise' you mentioned, I don't want to explain it yet. But perhaps I can help you understand and master this ability."

Talula did not put on airs. She sincerely apologized to Orson, then offered to help him learn to wield this power.

"In fact, there are quite a few people on Terra who possess Originium Arts. It's just that most do not deliberately use staffs to train that power. The Infected are different. Their bodies, already assimilated by Originium, are staffs in themselves. That is why they can unconsciously use Originium Arts that would normally require a medium to cast."

Talula led Orson back to the settlement with the fish they had caught, explaining various things about Originium Arts along the way.

"The Infected... Then I really did gain this ability after that day."

Orson looked at his palm. Though he showed no symptoms of being Infected yet, that seed had already been planted in his body. He did not know when it would devour him.

"Try using this sword."

After putting away their things, the two came to a forest behind the settlement. Talula directly handed the longsword at her waist to Orson, startling him.

"Huh? Sister Talula, are you telling me to slit my own throat...?"

"...This sword can serve as a staff."

Talula began to worry that she might have accidentally roasted part of Orson's brain into mush earlier.

"But this sword should be very—"

"Sentimental? Yes, I have some special feelings toward this sword, but none of them are worth cherishing."

Talula handed the greatsword to Orson. After taking the blade, which was slightly lighter than he had imagined, Orson indeed felt something unusual.

The melodies that had previously drifted through his mind without form now seemed to take shape. Yet for some reason, these visible melodies were exceptionally blurry, making their contents even harder to see.

"Even though I can barely see the actual form of these abilities now, they've become even blurrier..."

Orson squinted hard, trying to force his eyes into focus, but it was useless. The only result was that Talula nearly laughed out loud beside him.

"Cough, cough... Perhaps your Originium Arts have poor flexibility, or perhaps your control over this ability is insufficient."

Talula coughed twice and returned to teacher mode.

"For now, we can confirm that you have indeed awakened your Originium Arts. Next, try to conceive a circuit or switch that triggers their use."

"Sister Talula, can you say that in plain language? I—Aaaahhh!! Why are you still carrying half an ear of corn around!?"

Talula blasted Orson in the face with popcorn again.

"In simple terms, turn the act of 'using Originium Arts' into something tangible that you can imagine in your mind."

Talula held out her palm, and scorching flames leaped from it.

"If your ability is some kind of melody, then try imagining the switch through a similar feeling."

"Then what's your switch, Sister Talula?"

As he rubbed his temples with both hands, Orson asked Talula about the framework she used to cast Originium Arts.

"...A snake."

"..."

It seemed he had stepped on another landmine. Orson wisely dropped the subject and focused with all his strength on imagining the switch for his Originium Arts.

After an unknown amount of time, Orson finally succeeded in materializing his Originium Arts—the chaotic melodies gradually turned into a Black Score.

"I can see it. There's a Black Score on the rock, and... it seems like I can touch it."

From Talula's perspective, Orson reached his right hand into empty air. But to Orson himself, he had truly touched the "Black Score" belonging to the boulder before him.

Crack—!!

With a loud bang, the rock suddenly shattered, while a section of score in Orson's hand had turned into noise.

Apparently, directly applying force would cause it to break. But if he used more precise control...

Orson looked at a tree and raised the "pitch" of its Black Score this time.

Hiss—boom!

The frozen dead tree suddenly caught fire from within, only to be extinguished moments later by the cold wind.

Could the "Black Score" alter the physical properties of the object it belonged to?

This time, Orson turned his gaze toward an icicle at the edge of the cliff. But before he could listen to its melody, his vision suddenly went black and he collapsed to the ground—

"Mm..."

After a brief loss of consciousness, Orson opened his eyes. Talula's pale, resolute face filled his vision, while the back of his head rested against something soft and warm.

It took Orson about two seconds to understand the situation—he was lying across Talula's lap.

"Huh... Am I dead?"

Having understood the situation, Orson chose to deny it.

"Don't misunderstand. You're not dead. That was my mistake. I failed to notice that you had already overloaded yourself. Using Originium Arts for the first time can easily exhaust one's energy. That was my oversight. And I should thank you for what you did earlier as well, Orson."

Orson—this was the first time Talula had called him by name.

Overwhelmed with emotion, Orson looked at Talula. Looked at her, and stared blankly.

"...Could you stop staring at me like that?"

Talula grew somewhat irritated under Orson's constant gaze, but before she could say anything else, Orson suddenly sat up—still looking at her.

"No, it's just—uh, I can see another kind of score."

Orson looked at Talula. At that moment, not only could he see the Black Score, but a white score had also appeared in his vision.

"Unlike the Black Score from before, this one is white."

"White?"

"Yes, pure white, without any impurities. It's almost like... a soul."

Orson stared straight at the white score. He had never experienced this feeling of resonance before.

"Then what does my soul look like?"

Talula also asked Orson with some interest.

"It's taut, as if it could snap at any moment. And beyond the score, there are black patterns drifting around—Urgh!"

Orson tried to touch that foreign object, only to be flung back as though struck by high-voltage electricity.

The Black Score could alter physical traits, and inanimate objects possessed only the Black Score. The white score, meanwhile, was something only living people with souls possessed.

Was this his ability? Like tuning, an ability to alter objects, even souls?

Wait... If he really could control the white score—no, he definitely could.

Just as people believed they could see the world with their eyes, Orson naturally believed that he possessed the ability to "tune souls."

"Sister Talula, that Elafia... I might be able to wake her again."

Orson looked at Talula and spoke in a calm yet certain tone.

"...Alina?"

Talula looked at Orson in surprise. This was the first time he had seen such an expression on her face.

"—"

Talula wanted to say something, but could not open her mouth. She merely met Orson's gaze for a moment before looking away.