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Chapter 213 - Second Ascent (XVII)
🕑 Added 2025-03-01 01:00:04 +0000 UTC"What? You managed to do it?"
"Yes. It works. Thank you."
Chiara blinked, pushing down her surprise as she sat inside her cave, communicating over long distance with Arjun.
She hadn’t expected him to complete the revised model for the Pillar Enhancement in at least three days. Yet… it had only been one!
Had Arjun… suddenly become smarter? No… that… well…
"So, how do you feel? Is it stable? Can you passively maintain it?"
"I’ve maintained it for up to an hour and a half already and fired several bullets with it. It works perfectly."
"I see…"
Is it related to his condition somehow? But what would a slower perception of time… Oh… oh, that could be…
If she had expected three days, but his time ran slower, then one day for them might very well be a couple of days for Arjun. Or maybe because his brain was forced to work faster, processing more information, it was forming more synapses.
Quite an interesting subject…
"So, Arjun, have you ever measured exactly how much slower your time perception is?"
"I… No, I haven’t."
Chiara tapped her fingers against the stone beside her.
She thought for a moment. A reaction test wouldn’t be reliable—he’s been in this state for too long, already accustomed to the shift. We need something precise, something measurable.
Then, an idea clicked.
"Alright. I’ll develop a dual-clock system—one that runs at a fixed rate based on normal time, and another designed to synchronize with your perceived time. If we compare them after a set interval, we’ll get an exact ratio of how much your perception diverges."
"A dual-clock system?" Arjun asked.
"Yes. I’ll send you a wave-based model you can run in your mind. One clock will tick according to normal time, the other will follow your subjective experience of it. When the normal-time clock hits ten seconds, we’ll compare how much time has passed on yours."
She immediately began constructing the model, layering two separate oscillations—one anchored to a standardized wave frequency, the other designed to adjust dynamically based on neural feedback.
"Alright, I’m transmitting it now. They are designed to start simultaneously and stop when one reaches 10 seconds. Let me know the reading on the other one when that happens."
A brief pause. Then Arjun’s voice came back, focused. "Okay. I have it. Starting… now."
Chiara leaned back, calmly waiting.
Seconds passed.
Then—
"Done," Arjun said.
Already? Chiara straightened. "And the reading?"
A brief silence.
"4.371 seconds."
Her fingers instinctively tapped against her knee as she processed the number. Less than half the normal time.
She exhaled slowly. That’s… significant.
"So you experience time about 2.3 times slower than the rest of us. I’m not gonna lie, that’s higher than I expected. If you could properly convert that into wave output by merging pulses, coupled with the Pillar Enhancement model, then… it has great potential."
There was a pause before Arjun’s voice resonated in her mind. "I know."
Chiara narrowed her eyes slightly, sensing the change in the tone.
"That’s exactly what I need to push the model further. You said that at our current Stage Progress, we can theoretically reach 28% with your recent modifications."
She remained silent, waiting for him to continue.
"I heard Alonso can already use it at 27%, yet I’m still at just 20%."
Chiara tapped a finger against her knee. True… but… there was a clear difference in both scientific background and wave control between them. The fact that Arjun had managed to reach 20% was already impressive. Pushing beyond that…
"So…" Arjun's voice came through, firm and steady. "Chiara, I need a favor."
Her brows furrowed slightly.
"Help me reach my limit."
Chiara didn’t answer immediately.
She pressed her lips together.
This wasn’t a simple request.
To push Arjun further wouldn’t just be a matter of adjusting parameters or giving him a revised model. It would mean teaching him the fundamental principles behind it, making him understand the framework so he could fine-tune it to himself.
And that—that was a massive investment of time.
Time she didn’t have.
She was already conducting research daily, refining the Pillar Enhancement Model, running theoretical simulations, trying to understand the Pillar itself. The deeper she dove, the more obvious it became that they were barely scratching the surface of what it was truly capable of.
Not to mention her own progress. Improving her wave control. Ensuring her mind remained stable and didn’t shatter again.
So… was it worth it?
Was helping Arjun climb 5, maybe 6% more really the best use of her time?
A rational cost-benefit analysis said no.
She exhaled, preparing to form her answer.
Then Arjun spoke.
“I understand your time is valuable.” His voice remained steady, not demanding, just direct. “I don’t expect you to walk me through every step. If you just send me the necessary notes, mental exercises—whatever it takes—I’ll go through it all. I’ll train for hours, days without stop if I have to."
Chiara hesitated.
Arjun continued, his tone unchanging, but there was something heavier beneath the words.
“I don’t want to be a burden in the fights,” he admitted. “I see how fast Alonso is improving, how far Lukas is thinking ahead, how Wang is flying, how you—” He stopped himself. “—how you’re already working beyond what the rest of us can even grasp.”
He let a small pause settle.
“I can’t afford to fall behind.”
Chiara’s fingers stilled.
“I want to help us climb this Tower. I want to… get out.”
For the first time, a flicker of curiosity crossed her mind.
She had spent so much time analyzing their battle strategies, wave control, even mutation patterns—but not once had she asked herself why they were even fighting to leave.
Survival was instinctual. Escaping made sense.
But what was waiting for them outside?
She had never bothered to think about it.
Arjun’s next words pulled her back.
“Chiara… is there someone waiting for you? Someone you cannot wait to see again?”
She blinked.
The question should have been simple. A yes or no. Instead, it hit her unexpectedly.
She didn’t answer right away.
Her mind drifted back, unbidden, to people she hadn’t thought about in a long time.
Her parents.
A dry chuckle almost escaped her lips. No.
Her father was the easiest answer. That man didn’t care. Not about her, not about anything except his company and his precious legacy.
He had always been a presence in the house, but never a part of it. A businessman, constantly away, constantly working. She could count on one hand the number of real conversations they’d had in her entire life—and even then, they were brief, practical, devoid of anything resembling warmth.
The only time he ever showed real investment in family was with her older brother. He was the one who mattered. The future successor. The heir to the business.
As for her?
She didn’t exist in his world.
She had been a child prodigy—too smart, too quick, too much. The only time she even got a flicker of acknowledgment was when a school or university praised her achievements. But even then, it was fleeting. A simple nod. A passing remark.
Nothing real.
The truth was, she could have won every possible award, published groundbreaking research at ten, rewritten the laws of physics by twelve, and it still wouldn’t have mattered.
Because she wasn’t him.
She wasn’t the son.
She wasn’t the heir.
And she had never given a damn about the company, about business, about whatever empire he was building. So, to him, she was irrelevant.
Chiara clenched her jaw slightly. She had long since stopped caring.
And her mother…
That was more complicated.
Her mother had cared—in her own way. But that care had always felt distant, measured.
Not out of malice, not even out of neglect. But because Chiara was a child she didn’t understand.
A child who never fit the mold.
Where other kids sought comfort and warmth, Chiara sought knowledge. While other children played, Chiara dissected textbooks, solved equations, outpaced her teachers before they could even finish a lecture.
She saw it in her mother’s eyes. The struggle between love and distance. The hesitation in how to handle her.
And at some point, Chiara had simply… left.
Not physically at first. But mentally, emotionally.
She had buried herself in her work, in her research, in the one place she felt undeniably, unshakably herself.
By the time she was old enough to leave for good, she didn’t hesitate.
And she never looked back.
Her father was nothing to her. Her mother? Maybe, once upon a time. But that time was gone.
She had no one waiting for her.
No one to return to.
The realization settled into her like a weight, though not an unexpected one.
And yet, it didn’t feel sad. Just… matter-of-fact.
She had always been alone. That was simply how things were.
Even in university, even at the Space Center—she had colleagues, not friends.
Stephen? Maybe he came closest. They had worked together, bounced theories back and forth, debated over data and equations for hours. But was that friendship?
She exhaled. No.
There was mutual respect, admiration even, but it was professional.
Every connection she had ever made had been through her work.
Nothing personal.
She never needed it to be.
She had been fine that way.
So why did Arjun’s question linger in her mind?
Chiara shifted slightly, pulling herself out of her thoughts.
She had spent too long analyzing something that didn’t matter.
"No. There’s no one."
For the first time since their conversation started, Arjun didn’t respond immediately.
Silence.
Then, finally, his voice came through.
“…That must be lonely.”
Not pity. Not sympathy. Just a statement.
Chiara didn’t flinch. "I don’t mind."
Another pause. Then—"I do."
She blinked, slightly caught off guard.
"I have a wife. A daughter. Every time I wake up, every time I fight, every time I push forward, I do it for them. Because I know someone is waiting for me."
He exhaled, slow and steady.
"Lukas said something to me once. Back before we were working together. He told me that in the end, what truly matters is what you choose to hold onto. Not just the Tower, not just the fights, not even survival itself—but the reason behind it.
“At first, I didn’t think much of it. But then I asked myself—what would I be willing to sacrifice? What could I endure? How much could I lose and still keep going?”
A brief pause.
"And the answer was… anything.
"My wife. My daughter. They are the line. I will not lose them."
A silence stretched between them.
"I will do anything to hold my little girl’s hand again."
Chiara said nothing.
Then—"So… can you help me, Chiara?"
She stared at the cave wall, fingers still, mind not quite as sharp as it usually was.
Something about those words unsettled her.
Not the request. Not the logic behind it.
But the way he said it.
It wasn’t a demand. It wasn’t a transaction.
It was… human.
And it made her uncomfortable.
Helping people had always been a matter of efficiency, of logic. If their survival depended on her model, then it was necessary to refine it. If someone’s power could be improved for the sake of the climb, then of course it was worth the effort.
But this?
This wasn’t about efficiency.
This was Arjun.
Arjun, who had never asked her for anything.
Chiara shifted slightly, pressing her lips together.
She wasn’t supposed to care.
That was how she had always lived. That was how she had chosen to live.
Because caring was messy.
Caring meant feeling.
And feeling led to nothing but weakness.
…Right?
Her chest felt tight, unfamiliar, something foreign clawing at the edges of her usually clear, logical mind.
And yet—
She pictured a little girl, waiting.
Waiting for a father who might never come home.
Waiting for a father who loves her.
The image shouldn’t have affected her. She had spent her life dismissing sentimentality, stripping emotion out of decision-making.
But for the first time, it felt… wrong.
Her fingers twitched.
She had spent so much time running from emotions she barely understood.
But maybe, just this once, she didn’t have to.
Maybe this wasn’t about logic.
Maybe this wasn’t about efficiency.
Maybe this was just right.
She exhaled, tilting her head back against the cave wall.
Then, finally—
"Alright, Arjun."
The words felt foreign, yet strangely… right.
"I’ll help you."
