Chapter 71: Wreckage

[Bonus chapter for 800 powerstones. Karma will get you all eventually...]

Leonel's grip eventually loosened and he sat silently for a while. Soon, his breathing became steady once more.

To the side, Aina wasn't sure how to console Leonel. Of course, she wasn't aware that Leonel wasn't feeling this way due to the likely death of his father.

Regardless, she had similar experiences of her own. Her own mother was dead and her father had likely followed in her footsteps. But, she had always had problems putting her emotions into words. She was always more likely to either implode or shut down. There didn't seem to be a third option for her.

This time around, she chose to shut down.

Luckily for her, Leonel wasn't actually mourning the death of his father and quickly regained his composure, opening the driver's door and stepping out. It wasn't long before Aina followed behind him.

"… How did you know to come here directly? I thought it would take us a few days to find it at least." Aina tried a probing question.

Her words weren't wrong. Paradise Islands follow orbits, so where they fell would be variable. She only picked a mission to clear Perimeter 7 because it was near the general area, but she didn't expect to find the wreckage so quickly.

Leonel took a deep breath.

"I remember the time they fell and I know the orbit like the back of my hand, so calculating where it was wasn't a problem." He explained simply.

The orbits of Paradise Islands weren't public knowledge. Or rather, the majority of their routes weren't. Only their stop points were known, as for the path they followed between them, it could only be left up to conjecture.

For Leonel, who had been illegally traveling to the surface world for so many years already, it was simple to have this taboo knowledge.

Leonel took a step and slid down the side of the crater.

He knew that whatever his father left behind, it wouldn't have a problem surviving the fall. He didn't believe that his old man was dumb enough to not have a method of protecting his things.

A part of Leonel held a small piece of resentment for his father. After all, since he knew this was coming, couldn't he have saved these people?

But in the end, Leonel knew why he hadn't. Had he saved these people and then left, the Empire would definitely have all eyes trained onto Leonel. By then, even leaving the Fort to come to this place would have been impossible.

Leonel found the wreckage he knew must have been his home and began to dig.

His home now had collapsed. Several large slabs of brick and stone folded atop of one another. In comparison to the other structures, this could be considered to be relatively intact.

With him and Aina's work together, it wasn't long before a small path was created and they could duck into the remains of his home's living room… if you could even call it that.

Their movements caused dust to fly into the air. The two covered their mouths but were unable to hold back their ensuing coughs.

"… Le…"

Aina tried to start her attempt at saying some comforting words, but she backed out at the last moment again.

In her mind, there really was no point in checking this place. The best case scenario was seeing something he didn't want to see. Even if by some miracle his father survived the fall, it's already been more than half a year since then, how could a normal human survive for so long?

However, Leonel pretended not to hear the start of her murmurings.

He stepped forward, carefully crawling up and through the wreckage. It wasn't long before Aina picked up on the fact that something was wrong. Leonel didn't look like a person looking for the remains of his father… Instead, he looked like he already had a destination in mind?

Seemingly thinking of a possibility, she quickly followed and soon had her thoughts confirmed.

Leonel appeared above the remains of a staircase that descended. Shockingly enough, though, there wasn't even the slightest crack. Let alone a crack, it seemed completely unaffected by things around it.

At the end of this staircase, a seemingly simple wooden door lay, equally as unaffected.

'I guess you're not too useless, old man.' Leonel thought to himself.

By now, Aina was certain that Leonel was hiding something. However, she also didn't dare to speak because she knew why Leonel was going out of his way to not explain anything either. It didn't take a genius to know that they were likely being monitored.

The reason Leonel dared to come here despite this was because he believed his father would account for this as well.

He descended the steps and reached for the door handle, only to find it locked.

Leonel frowned. 'Don't tell me that old man forgot to give me a key? No, there's no keyhole here, there's probably another way to open it…'

After a moment. Leonel suddenly realized that the round door handle was a bit rough. It was a weird feeling because he could have sworn that it looked like smooth brass before. So where was this rough texture coming from?

Leonel pulled his hand back and observed the knob. It really did appear to be smooth… What was the problem?

Reaching forward again, Leonel closed his eyes and touched the knob once more. As expected, it really was rough.

His body jolted as he suddenly thought of a possibility.

Leonel calmed his mind and discarded his useless thoughts. His senses became many times more sensitive in that instant.

The rough texture on his hands became many times more refined. What once was an erratic, seemingly aimless pattern, gained itself a unique organization that projected itself into Leonel's mind.

In those moments, Leonel learned something else about his body. His eyes didn't seem to be as good as his other senses for some reason. He could tell the difference between a loaded and unloaded gun by their weight and now he could feel intricate patterns on his palms that his eyes couldn't see.

For now, Leonel wasn't aware of if this would always be the case or not, but for now, his sense of touch was definitely the highest amongst his original five senses. Or, rather, this was the only conclusion he could come up with based on the information he had.

'It's a Force Art…' Leonel thought. '… A complicated lock, but it shouldn't be a problem.'

Leonel's fundamentals in Force Art could be considered to be solid. It was likely no one else on Earth knew as much as he did. Well, aside from his own father, apparently.

However, this lock wasn't meant to be some great test or an obstacle Leonel needed to cross. Opening it was actually incredibly simple.

Leonel took control of his Force and poured it into the knob, slowly tracing across the fine, invisible lines.

For someone else, this task would have bordered on impossible. But for him, his spirit was simply too high for this little test.

Ten minutes later, a light click was heard and the knob finally turned, revealing a dark corridor.

Leonel stepped in, followed by Aina who hadn't said a word during the entire process. The door clicked closed behind them with hardly a sound.

It wasn't long before the two of them found themselves in a small, dimly lit library.

In truth, it was difficult to give it such a moniker. Calling it a library was a bit inaccurate. There were only four bookcases with five shelves each. The books still totaled a few hundred, but compared to a real library, it was still far too small. It was more accurate to call this place a small office.

Aside from those four bookcases, there were several shorter cases with several cubicles. These cubicles were filled to the brim with countless scrolls. These scrolls seemed to number even more than the few hundred books themselves.

Then, there was a plain workbench at the very center. It had several odd wells dipped into its seemingly dark oak surface and Leonel could see deep etchings drawn all across its body. But other than that, there was nothing else that stood out about it.

Rather than this, there were two things that left Aina and Leonel a bit stunned.

For one… Books? Scrolls? Wasn't the use and creation of paper banned? How could there be so many here?

And secondly… There were three pedestals at the end of the office. Each was covered by a small dome of light that seemed to manifest from thin air.

On each of the pedestals, there was a single object.

The first was a bland black ring that seemed unpolished as though its creator couldn't be bothered with its final look. The second was a black cube that seemed put together like a jigsaw puzzle. And the last was a small silver plate not even four inches across, it was uniform in all areas with the exception of a small indent at its very center.