Markov Log - Accepting Knowledge

"Accepted." The white shade hovers up to Markov, offering its hand to take. Before the alchemist can make contact, however, it speaks one last time. "Assessment is incorrect. The consensus is receiving ability to continue on. That great work may one day be complete. Immortality. All that we have strived for."

The moment contact is made, the specter of hard light shatters into strands. Those strands split into smaller strands, before coming together into a weave. That weave converges on a single point: Markov Obrastra's big dumb head.

Knowledge floods the young man's senses, to a prodigious degree. Sensations shift and change and refract and take the shape they once were again. Everything is the same as it once was... on the surface. Yet, on some level, something has changed.

Flashes of intelligence blast through Markov's mind. Realizations about certain calculated quantities to input into some concoctions. Fundamental truths about life's assembly, what might define the conditions of a body whereupon a soul might find purchase.

Perhaps nothing as intricate or as true as the Emerald Heart, but an approximation? One day. This knowledge is not complete. It is fractured, over the fallen ambitions, hopes and dreams of so many Arcadian researchers past. None of it comes together to form a cohesive picture, but the details stand out. Connections to be made in a massive, internal web within Markov's mind.

That, and the multitudinous presences that now nest themselves somewhere within that web. It's difficult to say how many. But that multitude has taken purchase, and while it has agreed not to psychically dominate Markov, that it's there at all means that may not be out of the realm of possibility.

As though it's lying in wait.

...The Adamantite husk sits there, ripe for scrapping.
(Lingering Self)
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Heard you the first 15 times." He waves his hand dismissively, focusing on settling the deal. The hand accepts the Congregation's with little to no aplomb in the finisher. The bottom line was -- the contract has been made.

Whatever consequences that may come Markov's way, it was as it came. This was his bed, he will lie in it.

What happens next was not a dream, however.

Markov Obrastra's big dumb head is inundated with ideas, concepts, theorems, laws, formulas, principles, hypotheses, postulates, and more.

This was. A step in the right direction. Regardless of the situation or whatever comes next, this was the step he needed.

Markov blinked. He turned to his group...
...Gave a few short nods. Even a thumbs up.

"Cid. Prepare the transport back. I got what I needed."

What actually happened to the hemodoctor would be kept behind tight-lips for now. They all witnessed it happen. But it's not like they were going to stop him from reaching the surface again, right?
(Markov Obrastra)
EXP Gain: [501*100%=501]