Welcome to The Debate. Imagine spending 17 years
of your life basically worshipping a ghost, only
to finally meet him and realize he is, well,
he's just as broken, just as terrified, and honestly,
just as vulnerable as you are. Yeah, it's rough.
It is, and that is the devastating reality our
protagonist, Xeonix, faces in book one. But,
you know, pulling off that emotional gut punch
requires a massive narrative leap from the author.
And if you're listening at home, you probably
remember our last discussion. We spent a lot
of time digging through the literal and metaphorical
ashes of the Novus family estate. Right. We
really got into the weeds on that one. We were
looking for any definitive trace of Milo and
Florent, you know, Xeonix's younger brothers.
Exactly. And we came up totally empty. We did.
Because Neo Gentricss left their fate in that fire
deliberately. I mean, agonizingly ambiguous.
We went back and forth on the evidence for almost
an hour. Like, were they tragic casualties buried
in the rubble? Or, and this was my theory, were
they highly kinetic assets that got quietly conscripted
by Eon Pax's regime? Which is a terrifying thought.
It is. And the brilliance of the writing there
is that we still do not have closure. The reader
is left entirely in the dark, feeling that exact
same helplessness that the protagonist feels.
Precisely. And that lack of closure, right, that
lingering, suffocating grief hanging over the
entire first book, that is exactly the engine
driving Xeonix to the absolute brink. I mean,
it pushes him to take incredibly desperate measures
just to understand his Novus family lineage.
Yeah, he's desperate. Which brings us directly
to today's central question, the Congo War time
travel arc. Is it the undeniable emotional peak
of the narrative? Or, and I know where you stand
on this, is it a structural cheat that shatters
the overarching stakes of this universe? I take
the stance that stepping into the past is, frankly,
what gives this book its heartbeat. It takes
this abstract, flawless legacy and turns it into
a bleeding, fallible human being. And, you know,
I come at it from a completely different angle.
I argue that introducing time travel, even temporarily,
even just for a moment, lets the story dodge
real, grounded consequences. Basically, if the
past is reachable at all, loss simply stops feeling
permanent. The tension just, it evaporates. I
hear that. But let's really dig into the emotional
necessity of this arc, though, because you cannot
separate the plot mechanics from Xeonix's psychological
state during his exile in the Pico -Dish region.
Sure. Look at what the kid is carrying. He has
spent his entire life suffocating under the myth
of his missing grandfather. He has no parents.
He doesn't know if Milo and Florent or Dad are
alive. Yeah, he's totally isolated. Completely.
And all he has to cling to are old stories and,
you know, that broken chain dagger. Xeon Clerics
is built up in his mind as this flawless legend.
The Whistling Swordsman. He's this phantom who
casts an impossibly long shadow over every single
choice Xeonix makes. I mean, he essentially idolizes
a ghost. Exactly. But when he finally makes that
temporal leap, what actually happens? Where does
he find this supposedly invincible legend? Not
where you'd expect. I'll give you that. Right,
he doesn't find him sitting on a throne or effortlessly
cutting down legions of enemies. He finds him
in a damp, miserable, filth -ridden stone prison
cell smack in the middle of a horrific historic
conflict. He watches his grandfather fight, struggle,
and bleed just to survive the hour. It's definitely
jarring. It grounds the entire mythos. It forces
Xeonix to understand the true, agonizing burden
of the elemental arts. I honestly believe it
is the emotional peak because it completely shatters
the myth and gives him a real, terrified human
being. Look, I absolutely acknowledge the emotional
resonance you are pointing to. I do. The contrast
between the myth of the Whistling Swordsman and
the reality of a battered soldier in a muddy
trench, it's stark. It's great writing. But we
have to look at the structural consequences of
that arc on the universe Neo Gentrics has built.
Okay, let's look at it. This is a gritty, unforgiving
universe, right? It's defined by brutal, permanent
loss. We literally just spent an entire discussion
on the unceremonious burning of the Novus'
estate and the ruthless murder of his parents
in Sacar. The violence of Eon Pax's regime has
weight precisely because it is final. It is final,
yes. I agree with that. But then, then Zeryl
utilizes the void to warp space -time and send
someone backward. And the moment that happens,
it feels exactly like a narrative escape hatch.
I mean, if death and loss can be circumvented
simply by manipulating spacetime, the stakes
of the ongoing present -day war instantly evaporate.
But, like, why should I, as a reader, worry about
anyone dying if we've established that time is
pliable? Because framing it as an escape hatch
completely ignores the actual physics Neo Gentricss
established in the text. I mean, Zeryl didn't
hand Xeonix the keys to a DeLorean here. Well,
no, but he tore a hole in a universe that actively
tries to stitch that hole back together. We really
need to be incredibly precise about how those
mechanics actually function because time travel
in this universe is strictly forbidden by the
laws of nature. It is not just, you know, difficult.
It is a fundamental violation. How does the text
prove it isn't an escape hatch, though? Because
the precedent is set the second he lands in the
Congo War. If he can do that, why not just jump
back to Sacar and pull his parents out of the
house before the mercenary Crater Steve arrives
to execute his hit? That's, if you are a reader
deeply invested in this tragedy, knowing that
Zeryl can just fold space -time completely
cheapens the grief. It doesn't cheapen it because
you are massively overestimating Zeryl's ability.
Zeryl does not warp reality. He isn't a god
altering the fabric of existence on a whim. Okay,
then what is he doing? What he does is utilize
the void to create a localized vacuum. And when
he does that, the immense atmospheric pressure
of normal space -time violently rushes in to
crush that vacuum. That creates a temporary,
highly unstable temporal slipstream. Fluid dynamics
applied to time. Fluid dynamics? Yes. Using the
void isn't like hitting rewind on a VHS tape.
It is like trying to swim upstream in a flooded
freezing river while carrying a boulder. The
temporal current is actively trying to drown
you just for being there. Okay, sure. So it's
physically toxic. I get that. But he still does
it. He does it once out of sheer desperation.
And look at the explicit warning Zeryl gives
Xeonix before the jump. He grabs him and tells
him directly, if you are seen, or if you change
anything, we are in serious trouble. The universe
inherently rejects the paradox. It will crush
them. It is a highly volatile one -time anomaly.
It is absolutely not a casual tool or a revolving
door for fixing present -day tragedies. I'm sorry,
but I just don't buy that a verbal warning entirely
fixes the structural problem of introducing it
in the first place. Even if we accept your fluid
dynamics analogy, even as a one -time anomaly,
you have just introduced quantum sci -fi into
a narrative that has up until this exact moment
been built on incredibly grounded tactile elemental
arts. It is a shift, sure. I'll give you that.
It is massive genre whiplash. We have spent hundreds
of pages reading about the physical toll of the
whistling wind style. We've read about the heavy
biological cost of drawing energy directly from
the Earth. I mean, we watched Shane physically
deteriorating because his connection to a living
gem was severed. Right. The elemental arts take
a toll. Exactly. Everything in this world is
tactile. It is biological. It requires sweat
and blood. And suddenly, out of nowhere, we are
dealing with literal space -time manipulation
and localized vacuums. Doesn't that tonal shift
risk completely alienating the reader who invested
in a grounded martial arts story? You can't just
drop quantum physics into a trench war. The shift
is jarring. I am not going to sit here and pretend
it doesn't take the reader by surprise. But,
uh, the emotional catharsis it delivers completely
justifies the narrative risk. The payoff is worth
the whiplash. Is it, though? I think so. Look
at the specific sensory details of that exchange
on the battlefield during the Congo War. Xeonix
is fighting shoulder to shoulder with his grandfather.
They are quite literally knee -deep in mud, surrounded
by the absolute chaos of elemental combat, with
explosions rocking the Earth. The imagery is
vivid, I agree. Neo Gentrics writes a great battle.
Right. And when the physical pressure of the
slipstream becomes too great, when the timeline
starts to violently fracture around them and
Xeonix realizes he is being pulled back to the
present, he breaks. He cries out, I can't lose
you again. Yeah, that's a tough scene. It is
not the battle cry of a warrior. It is the desperate
plea of an abandoned child who finally found
his family. And Xeon Clerics, amidst all this
death and mud and fire, just looks at his grandson,
smiles, and tells him he has to flee to be safe.
It is a raw, devastating moment of human connection.
It bridges a 17 -year gap of silence in a single
breath. You simply cannot achieve that level
of profound catharsis without bridging the temporal
divide. Okay, that is a compelling argument regarding
the emotional payoff. The dialogue there is undeniable.
And the way Neo Gentrics' rights to desperation
is incredible. But, and this is a big but, have
you considered the incredibly messy ripple effects
this creates for the villain's motivations? Oh
boy. Because this is where the time travel arc
really threatens to ruin the stakes for me. If
you're listening at home, you might be screaming
at your dashboard right now thinking about Iolite's
role in all of this. I know exactly where you
are going with this. It creates a closed causal
loop. It completely undermines the villain's
agency. During that exact battle you just described
in the Congo War, Iolite is fighting his brother,
Xeon Clerics. And in the middle of this chaotic
fight, Iolite looks over and locks eyes with
Xeonix. He seemingly learns the future. Wait,
wait. He witnesses his own defeat right there
on the battlefield. And because he is given this
living, breathing spoiler of his own demise,
it creates his entire villainous plan. He realizes
he has to send a warrior into the future to hunt
down Xeonix to prevent his own downfall. The
paradox creates the villain's plot, which is
the definition of a massive narrative cheat.
Okay, I have to stop you right there. I have
to vigorously correct the record because we need
to strictly enforce the canon on this exact point.
That is a complete and fundamental misreading
of the text. How can you say that? Because there
is no paradox and there is no causal loop. He
looks right at him. He literally sees the boy
who defeats him. Yes, he looks at him. But Iolite
does not learn the future, and he absolutely
does not witness his own defeat. If you look
at the text, if you break down what actually
happens on that battlefield, the mechanics are
brilliantly grounded. Okay, explain it to me
then. Picture the tempest of that fight. The
pure green wind of Xeon Clerics is violently
clashing with the corrupted red wind of Iolite.
In the middle of that blinding storm, Iolite
sees a mysterious young man fighting alongside
his brother. He studies the boy's face, he watches
his elemental techniques, and what happens is
purely psychological. He becomes deeply, incredibly
suspicious. Suspicious of what? A time traveler
dropping in to ruin his life? No. He already
knows that time travel exists in the universe
as a theoretical possibility, but he also knows
it is strictly forbidden. He assumes nobody,
not even his brother, would be reckless enough
to actually attempt it because the universe would
crush them. So, relying on cold, calculated logic,
Iolite deduces something far more grounded and
terrifying. He deduces that his brother has,
or will have, a family. Wait, so he just guesses
he has a nephew? He connects the dots. He sees
the physical resemblance in the face. He sees
the exact same shared martial style. He deduces
a bloodline. He does not possess knowledge of
the future. He possesses a paranoid brilliant
suspicion. Okay, but what about the assassination
plot? He literally orchestrates the hunt for
Xeonix based on that exact encounter. You cannot
deny that the time travel causes the assassination
attempt. He does orchestrate the hunt. Yes. But
again, we have to respect the mechanics Neo Gentrics
established. Only Xeonix travels through time
in this story. Nobody else. Ever. Wait, not even
Malamar? Absolutely not. Iolite does not send
anyone to the future. Acting entirely on his
paranoid suspicion about his brother's bloodline,
he puts Malamar in place. And Malamar is planted
in the past, years in advance. Malamar moves
forward through normal, linear time, aging day
by day, year by year, exactly like everyone else,
waiting patiently in the shadows to ruin the
nephew Iolite suspects will eventually exist.
Oh, wow. Wait, so he just waits? Yes. And Crater
Steve? He doesn't travel through time either.
Crater Steve is just a mercenary operating in
the present day of Picodesh who gets hired for
a hit. There is no closed causal loop. There
is no paradox that magically creates the plan.
It is sheer deduction and long -term calculated
malice by a villain who knows exactly how to
hold a grudge. I, well, if we look at it that
way, that is a crucial distinction to make. I
mean, if he is aging normally, if Malamar is
just living day by day, year by year, aging in
real time, just waiting to spring a trap based
purely on a suspicion formed during a passing
glance on a battlefield 20 years prior. Exactly.
It isn't a Sykes -Eye paradox. It's a 20 -year
-long game of chess played by a sociopath. Okay,
you know what? I will concede that point. And
honestly, stripping away the idea of a closed
time loop actually makes Iolite significantly
more terrifying as an antagonist. Right? Yeah.
Because the moment he locks eyes with Xeonix
through that violent clash of elemental wind
and deduces the existence of an entire family
bloodline purely on instinct and paranoia, it
is undeniably one of the most chilling, brilliant,
villainous moments in the entire book. He doesn't
need to magically read the future. He just needs
to read his brother's face in the middle of a
war. Precisely. It preserves his complete agency
as a character. He is acting on his own hatred
and his own intellect, not simply fulfilling
a predetermined timeline dictated by a paradox.
It takes the sci -fi elements of the void and
grounds them firmly back into character psychology
and elemental martial arts. It is a great character
moment, I'll give you that. However, while I
concede the brilliance of the deduction, I need
you to concede the inherent, ongoing danger of
what Neo Gentrics has done here. Okay, let's hear
it. Because even if the mechanics of the localized
vacuum hold together cleanly, and even if the
emotional payoff of meeting the grandfather is
spectacular, introducing space -time manipulation
via the void pulls the pin on a narrative grenade.
I see where you're going with this. The author
has shown the reader that the fundamental laws
of linear time can be broken if you push hard
enough and suffer the atmospheric pressure. If
Neo Gentrics ever uses this device again to dodge
a present -day tragedy, if, say, in Book 2 or
Book 3, Zeryl folds space to undo a death or
to fix a mistake, it absolutely will permanently
undercut the gritty stakes of this universe.
Yeah. The reader will never trust a character
death again. That is a very fair critique, and
I will fully concede that point. You're right.
The tension of Picodesh, and honestly the entire
series, relies heavily on the permanence of trauma.
The elemental arts require biological sacrifice,
and the Congo War left permanent bleeding scars
on the continent. Exactly. By allowing Xeonix
to step backward, even just to observe and briefly
connect, the author has introduced a massive
vulnerability into the architecture of the story.
If it is overused or if it is ever used as a
convenient bandage rather than a desperate, agonizing
anomaly, the structural integrity of the world
will absolutely collapse. It works brilliantly
here because it is driven by profound grief,
but it must remain an isolated anomaly. It has
to. The universe has to remain dangerous. I mean,
if you can just step out of the timeline whenever
Eon Pax or the Fuse Master wins a battle, it
isn't a terrifying war anymore. It becomes a
rehearsal. The tension just dies. It is a remarkably
delicate balance, and I think that is where we
find our synthesis today. I completely agree.
So to pull our thoughts together, the Congo War
time travel arc is arguably the highest risk
narrative swing in the entire book. It flirts
incredibly dangerously with challenging the gritty,
permanent reality of the universe. Yet by enforcing
strict physics -based rules around the void and
relying on brilliant character deduction rather
than lazy paradoxes, it delivers a massive, necessary
emotional catharsis. It transforms a mythic grandfather
into a real breathing human being, and it forces
Xeonix to grow up. And as always, we leave it
to you, the listener, to form your own conclusion
based on the text. Does the staggering emotional
weight of that battlefield reunion justify the
introduction of fluid space -time physics into
a grounded elemental world? Analyzing multiple
perspectives on how Neo Gentrics balances these
mechanics only deepens our appreciation of the
sheer complexity of this worldbuilding. Because
no matter how many times you read it, there is
always more to explore in the material. There
absolutely is. Which brings us to our next deep
dive. We spent a lot of time today circling the
paranoid brilliant mind that deduced an entire
family lineage from a single glance in a tempest.
So next time we're looking closer at the man
who started it all, Iolite, the grandfather's
brother. Is he a sympathetic villain driven by
neglect or pure, irredeemable evil? It's going
to be a heavy one. We might need to map out the
entire family tree for that. We just might. Until
then, keep questioning what you find in the rubble.
We'll see you next time on The Debate.