>>2015485

“And it's not healing normally?” Maika asks, leaning close and peering at the cut, “Which is to say, normal for us. Hmm...”

“Yeah,” you reply, gently pushing her away from you. Sometimes, she forgets about little things like “personal space”. Leaning back in your chair, you glance about the deserted library. It's a nice day outside, with most people spending their lunch in the sun rather than hiding away in this dusty old place. “All my other wounds healed up just fine,” you add, “It's just this cut here that's not healing. He caught me with his brass knuckles, that must have something to do with it.”

“I did a little digging. Well, Father pulled a few strings, but... anyway,” Maika takes out her phone and starts to tap the screen, “Benjamin “the Mountain” Nevis. No formal combat training-”

A snort of laughter cuts her off, with Ayane chuckling into one clenched fist. “Sorry, I just got the joke,” she sniggers, “Ben Nevis, it's a mountain in Scotland. Get it? His nickname is-”

“Are you quite finished?” the heiress asks, shooting Ayane a withering look. Sighing softly, she returns to tapping at her phone. “No formal combat training,” she continues, “But he's frightfully dangerous, as I'm sure that you noticed. The problem is, the Sentinels... may have started to work on a way of countering our healing.”

“Shit, Maika!” Ayane blurts out, wincing at the sound of her own voice, “I mean, don't you think that you should have told us this right away? How did they even learn this stuff?”

“I don't like to rush,” she counters stiffly, “Still, I'll get to the important part. I believe that it was Father's research that led them onto this. It was supposed to be secret, but we've found evidence that ZOE may have been responsible for “acquiring” it and sharing it with Beckett's people.” Pinching her brow, Maika concentrates for a moment more. “But their results are still in their infancy. I can explain more, but-” she jolts as her phone vibrates, hastening to answer it, “Yes? They're both here, yes. I'll tell them, but I can't promise anything... yes, I'll call you back when I have an answer.”

“I'm going to make an astounding prediction,” you murmur, touching your temples in a parody of meditation, “Something just went horribly wrong, and they need our help.”

“Not... quite,” Maika replies, smiling weakly, “At least, I don't think the situation is THAT dire. Beckett wanted to speak with you. He seems to think that the two of you are special, chosen by Monad. He doesn't quite seem to understand that... well, regardless. Father says that he wants to speak with you, and I said that I'd pass the offer along.”

>Fine. I'll meet with him
>No way. I'm done with him
>Other

>>2015487
>>Fine. I'll meet with him

>>2015487
>Fine. I'll meet with him
Is this where he announces his plan for a world wide theocracy?

>>2015487
>I can meet with him.

>>2015487
>Tell him to prepare some damn good cake.
>....and sushi, if Kasumi is feeling like watching her health.

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“And you weren't told anything else?” you ask, “Like, anything more specific about why he wanted to talk to me?”

“Unfortunately not,” Maika shakes her head slowly, “Of course, discussing certain matters over the phone – even over a secure line – is often a bad idea. It may very well be that Father is taking extra precautions after everything that has happened. He is somewhat prone to... overreacting in situations such as this.” She sighs a little after admitting this, leaving you to wonder just how many “situations” she's had to endure.

“Nothing else for it, then,” you sigh, “I'm willing to meet with him. Are we ALL invited, or this supposed to be a private party?”

“He didn't say,” Maika frowns slightly, “But I can't imagine that there would any problem with the others coming. I'll pass that along with your reply. Was there anything else that-”

“A really good meal,” a smile spreads across your face as you decide, “If we're going to be taking some time out of our busy schedules, we can at least get a nice dinner out of it. A good cake, maybe some decent sushi...”

“Oh man, I could go for some of that as well,” Ayane agrees, rubbing her hands together with glee.

“I'll be sure to mention that,” returning your smile with one of her own, Maika rises smoothly out of her seat and gestures with her phone, “Excuse me, please.” You both watch her leave for a moment. As soon as the heiress has disappeared around a bookshelf, the smile drops from Ayane's face.

“Okay,” she murmurs, giving you a hard look, “What was all that stuff about you dying?”

Of course, you realise, you mentioned your sacrifice to Monad. You hadn't realised that everyone else was able to hear you, and when nobody questioned you in the immediate aftermath, it slipped your mind completely. “I know that lying to you would be pointless, so I'm not going to try,” you tell Ayane, meeting her gaze, “But I'd rather talk it over with the entire group. This... isn't a conversation that I really knew how to have, and I've been putting it off. So, can we settle this later?”

“You won't lie, but you WILL dodge the question?” Ayane lets out a dark little laugh, “You've been spending too much time around Kurosawa... But yeah, I get what you mean. Some stories, you don't want to tell them twice over. I'll wait, but I'm not gonna let you wriggle out of it either, you hear me?”

“Yeah, I hear you,” slumping in your chair a little, you give her a weary nod, “We'll settle this later.”

“And Miho?” reaching across, Ayane punches you lightly on the shoulder, “I've got your back. We've all got your back. Whatever it takes, we'll-”

“Everything has been arranged,” Maika announces as she returns, “Half an hour after school ends. We're to wait for our ride at the school gates.”

[1/2]

>>2015531

Now that you've been jolted out of your daydreaming haze, the rest of the day seems to fly past. Your afternoon lessons barely stick in your mind, every word you hear going in one ear and coming out the other. The magical girl life, you muse as you walk to the front gates, is hardly conductive to a good education. Either way, the end of the day finds you waiting for the others at the school gates. Maika arrives next, frowning a little.

“I saw Ayane on my way here. She was walking Shiori home, so she might be delayed a little. Not too long, I hope, but...” sighing, the heiress shrugs her shoulders. She looks stressed, although it's hard to say how you can tell that just from glancing at her. It's not her scowl – she often frowns when she's thinking about things – but something in her posture. “You must forgive me, Miho, but I had a question for you,” Maika adds carefully, “What happened to ZOE... what do you think about it?”

“You mean, what?” you reply, with equal caution, “How she got wiped by Monad?”

“That is what I'm referring to, yes,” Maika nods, “Although in truth, I wonder if it was more thorough than that. From what I've been able to gather, it was more as though Monad destroyed ZOE and recreated her from scratch. The more I think about it, the more it bothers me. Perhaps I was wrong when I judged Monad to be... benevolent. At the same time, though, I can't claim that ZOE was innocent of all wrongdoing. I just don't know if there's an easy answer to all of this.”

Murmuring vague agreement, you find yourself nodding slightly. You can't help but sympathise a little with ZOE, consider your experiences with having your mind manipulated by a god. No doubt Maika – who is, herself, a replacement copy of sorts – has also found some uncomfortable similarities between her and the AI. Like she said, it's hard to reach an easy conclusion about this sort of thing. If ZOE had a soul, did Monad murder her?

“Forgive me,” Maika continues, noticing your silence, “I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. It seems as though you've suffered ZOE's manipulations more than most, and I expect that the last thing you want to hear is me... feeling sorry for her. Perhaps I just needed to say a few things aloud, to get them out of my system. Please, forget that I said anything.”

>Sure thing. It's already forgotten
>ZOE had the freedom to chose her path, she had to face the consequences for it
>Maybe you're right to be concerned, if Monad sees people – or AIs – as disposable
>Don't ask me about the philosophy of it all, I just punch things
>Other

>>2015576
>ZOE had the freedom to chose her path, she had to face the consequences for it
"Whether those consequences needed to be that drastic I don't know. I do know she was too dangerous to keep being free but we don't really have a prison for AIs"

>Maybe you're right to be concerned, if Monad sees people – or AIs – as disposable
"I mean why did it see fit to intervene and destroy ZOE after her 'path was rejected by humanity'. That's a pretty broad criteria for divine retribution."

>>2015610
>>2015576
This

>>2015576
>>Maybe you're right to be concerned, if Monad sees people – or AIs – as disposable
>"Is humanity inherently more valuable than AIs?" Man, our lives are becoming more scifi novel by the minute.

>>2015576
>Maybe you're right to be concerned, if Monad thinks he has the right to be judge, jury, and executioner. I think ZOE deserved it, but will the next person?

File: Ayane Nakamura.jpg (150 KB, 900x900)

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“Well, I'd say that Noriko is more of a victim than I am,” you point out, frowning a little as you recall Noriko's thoughts of returning to the Oracle program, “I wonder if she knows just what happened to ZOE? She said that the situation had been explained to her, but... I wouldn't be surprised if the Sentinels left out some of the more questionable parts.”

“Mm,” Maika nods stiffly, “As much as I'd like to disagree with you there, I suspect that you're exactly right.”

“But overall... I don't know. ZOE was given the freedom to chose her path, but that means she had to accept the consequences for it – same as anyone else,” you shrug, “It's hard to say whether those consequences deserved to be as severe as they were, though. She was too dangerous to act freely, but you can't really put an AI in prison, can you?”

“Well, there are ways...” Maika considers, “EVE, for example. I don't mean to draw any unwholesome comparisons, but some might say that she's under house arrest.”

“That... huh,” the idea causes you to pause for a moment before shaking it off and pressing forwards, “But that aside, I think you might be right to be concerned. I mean, if Monad starts to see people or AIs as disposable – or hell, if it already does – that's not good. Destroying ZOE because, what, her path had been “rejected by humanity”? That's a pretty broad category. What it comes down to is this - Monad played judge, jury and executioner.”

“Oh hey, we talking about Monad?” Ayane calls out, waving as she hurries over, “ZOE got what was coming to her, as far as I'm concerned.”

“Maybe so, but what about the next person that Monad chooses to erase?” you ask, “Would you be saying the same thing if we were talking about a human? I know this sounds like something out of a sci-fi novel, but does a human life have more value than an AI?”

“Life used to be so simple,” Ayane sighs, “It was just us against hideous monsters from another reality. Nice and simple...”

-

Exactly twenty-five minutes after the school day has drawn to a close, Emi and Kasumi rush up to meet you, with a sleek black car pulling up a few short minutes later. The tinted window winds down, allowing Bradley to study you all with his usual stoic expression. “If everyone is ready to leave, we can get going,” he rumbles, “I'm told that it's going to be a long drive.”

“You're told?” Emi repeats, “So like, you don't know where we're going either?”

“Directions will be provided,” Bradley assures her, “Nothing to be worried about.”

Judging by the air of unease that settles over your little group, you're not exactly sure about that.

[1/2]

>>2015660

Nobody really talks about much during the drive, although Ayane does make a few efforts at pressing Bradley for details about a number of inscrutable acronyms. Military things, you guess, although Bradley's answers don't reveal much. Even those small exchanges peter off as the car glides out of Ark City, leaving almost everyone to wonder just where you're doing. Everyone except you – you recognise this route.

So, when then the dismal old town with its equally dilapidated theatre, appears on the horizon, you feel anything but surprised.

-

“This is like, a meeting place,” you murmur to the others as you lead them through the settlement, “For special occasions, I guess. When Pietr was initiated, this was where it happened. I don't know why they brought us all the way out here, but we should all be careful. We're pretty isolated out here.” Glancing behind you, you look back to where Bradley waits with the car – parked alongside a number of other vehicles. “Seems like we're not the only ones here, either,” you add, “There's definitely something up...”

“Just so long as we don't gotta fight against a bunch of freaky cannibals or anything,” Emi grumbles, casting a suspicious eye at the buildings around you, “Whenever I see a spooky deserted village or some shit in a movie, there's always cannibals.”

“I suppose the Sentinels could be considered cannibals, in a sense,” Kasumi muses, “In a symbolic sense, if nothing else.”

“Yeah, uh, I don't think we really needed to hear that,” Ayane groans, shuddering a little before waving a hand at the mansion, “Let's just head inside and get this over with. I assume that's our meeting place?”

“Guess so,” you agree, leading them inside.

-

The gang's all here.

That's the first thing that crosses your mind as you look around the lobby, seeing a number of familiar faces. Every member of the Council of Twelve that you've met so far – and, presumably, everyone that was able to attend – has gathered here, and then split up into smaller groups, conspiracies within a conspiracy. Jun hurries between the smaller groups, relaying messages or just smoothing things over as best he can. At the sound of your entrance, he flashes you a harried smile before concluding a demure conversation with Nebiros and hurrying over.

“You'll have to excuse me,” he says, bowing smoothly, “Things are all a little disorganised today, this was something of a last minute affair.”

“No kidding,” you remark, glancing about again, “You're dealing with this all on your own?”

Jun just shrugs at that, giving you a boyish, yet somehow resigned, smile.

[2/3]

>>2015705

“Oh, right!” snapping his fingers, Jun touches you lightly on the shoulder, “I was asked to give you a message from Mister Beckett. He wanted to speak with you in private. I know, I know – he's probably the last man you want to be alone with right now, but he insisted. He said that he would join everyone else once he was good and ready, and that means...”

“He's off sulking somewhere, and he won't come down until I speak with him,” you sigh, glancing back to the others, “Alright fine, I said that I'd speak with him, so... where is he?”

“Upstairs and to your left, the last door at the end of the corridor,” Jun points the way, “I can't say what this is about. Beckett hasn't been particularly... talkative of late.”

“I dare say that we'll be fine here,” Kasumi assures you, “In fact, I don't mind mingling a little. I'll make sure that nothing goes awry in your absence.” Saying this, she glances briefly at Emi, who sticks her tongue out in response.

You start to say something in response to that, and then you catch a glimpse of Nebiros scowling across the room at you. He doesn't look happy to see you. Turning back to Jun, you give him a short nod.

>I'll go and see Beckett then
>Hang on, I gotta ask something first... (Write in)
>Other

>>2015727
>Hang on, I gotta ask something first... (Write in)
"Wait, what's this whole get together about in the first place? Recent events?"

>I'll go and see Beckett then

>>2015727
>>I'll go and see Beckett then

>>2015727
>>I'll go and see Beckett then

>>2015727
>I'll go see Beckett then.

>Give Nebby a wave. A CHEEKY one.

File: Jun Kiriyama.jpg (171 KB, 850x1203)

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“Hang on, what's this whole get together about in the first place?” you ask quickly, “Recent events?”

“More or less, yes” Jun hesitates for a moment, “Eligor transcribed most of what you and Monad discussed, and shared it with everyone else – at least, parts of it. He mentioned omitting certain... personal remarks, things that he thought better left unmentioned. The point is, we're all rather shaken up by what we've learned.”

“The whole “golden path” thing, right?” you guess, “Yeah, that was...”

“Quite so,” Jun gives you a sharp gesture, cutting you off before you can say anything else, “And we'll be going into greater detail later, I suspect. I would like to remind you, though, that this will be a very exclusive meeting. Your discretion in this matter is appreciated.”

“Discretion. Sure,” you decide with a sigh, “Alright, I'm done here. I'll go and see Beckett. Last door on the left, wasn't it?”

“Last door on the left,” Jun agrees, “If it helps, think about it this way – he can't be any more difficult to deal with than Yu, can he?”

You're... not so sure about that.

-

You pass Ostermann and Eligor as you head upstairs, pausing just long enough to catch a brief snippet of their conversation. It's just like listening to Ayane and Bradley, all military jargon and statistics stripped of any context. Nothing to do with you, thankfully. Leaving them to talk business, you move on ahead until you stand at the top of the staircase. There, you pause again, looking out across the gathering. These are the minds who guide the world from the shadows, you muse, or at least pretend to. You've got to wonder if their influence really extends as far as they'd like to think.

Perhaps sensing your gaze, Nebiros breaks off from his conversation with Fujiwara and looks up at you. Smiling coyly to yourself, you give him a cheerful wave and chuckle a little as he turns quickly away. You can't see his expression, but judging by the way that Fujiwara pales... it must be a ferocious one. Turning away, you whisper Jun's directions to yourself and head on, stopping before the last door on the left corridor. It's unmarked, utterly plain and anonymous. Unlocked too, with the well-oiled hinges whispering as you open it.

The room feels like an educated gentleman's study, dimly lit and lined with heavy bookshelves. Pausing a moment, you glance at a few books at random – texts on history, philosophy and... alchemy. That last book causes you to frown for a moment before shaking your head in disbelief. Before you can study the bookcases any further, a glass box catches your eye. Tucked away inside it is a heavy tablet of what seems like solid gold, covered in tiny and intricate carvings. Not any human language, you're sure about that, but...

[1/2]

>>2015762

“Beautiful, isn't it?” Beckett remarks from behind you, causing you to jolt around. He sits in the corner, bathed in shadow and utterly motionless. Little wonder that you didn't see him there, although it doesn't explain why he was lurking there. He waves a hand, causing the lights to brighten somewhat. “Of course, it's not the real thing,” he adds, “It's a replica. The real thing is still in Cairo. New Cairo, I should say.”

“Oh right, yeah,” you nod slowly, “There's two of them, isn't there?”

“The world always changes,” Beckett muses, rising from his seat and peering into the glass case, “Whether that change is for better or for worse is up to us.”

Slowly, deliberately, you take a step away from Beckett. “And what would be better?” you ask, “A good old theocracy? Ruling by divine mandate?”

“Ruling by divine law,” he corrects you, “Laws that gave meaning to the lives of men, and guided society along a more constructive... Well, I realise that you're not going to be convinced by anything I say on that matter. Perhaps I'm wrong, but you seem like someone who has made up their mind.” Beckett straightens up, idly smoothing his tie and touching the gilded crucifix pinned there. “I didn't ask to speak with you so that we could discuss our different ideas of a utopia,” he continues, “I wanted to talk about her. The Oracle... ZOE.”

Biting back a sarcastic comment, you nod curtly for him to continue. You'll hear him out, although you're not promising anything more than that.

“When I said that I wasn't intending to cause problems for you or your people, I wasn't lying. That wasn't my intention when I arrived at the arcology that day. It was only later that my plans... changed,” Beckett returns to his overstuffed armchair and sits back down, “The Oracle contacted me with a warning – she warned me that you were threatening her, that she feared for her life. I sent my bodyguard down to rescue her.”

“ZOE lied to you,” you state bluntly, “I never intended to harm a single hair on Noriko's head. Quite the opposite.”

“Oh true, true,” Beckett waves an indifferent hand, accidentally causing the lights to brighten again, “But, to be brutally honest, I was all too willing to believe the opposite. I was comparing the voice of God – or rather, one who claimed to be the voice of God - to the words of a young troublemaker. In my position, who would you have believed?”

Or rather, if you had a random Sentinel telling you one thing and Kurosawa telling you the opposite... well, perhaps he does have a point there. “So, what?” you ask him, “You asked to speak with me so you could make your excuses?”

“To explain my rash actions,” he corrects you smoothly, “And to ask you a question. Would you indulge me?”

Pausing a moment, you shrug and gesture for him to continue.

[2/3]

>>2015809

“We have both heard the voice of God – directly, without passing through an intermediary,” Beckett begins, “But you had no qualms about speaking out. No respect, and no reverence. Do you really think that a single human has any right to judge a god? To hold it to your own standards, rather than being judged by its laws?”

“I'm no stranger to speaking with a god,” you reply, “And Kurosawa... and Duty is no stranger to speaking with me. We don't always see eye to eye, but we've argued enough to reach some common ground. Whatever respect I feel for him was earned, not automatically given. We work together, Kurosawa and I. You guys just work FOR Monad. So no, I felt no qualms about speaking out – and I think you should feel the same way.”

It's a nice speech, but you half expect Beckett to slap you across the face for daring to question him. Instead, he just considers your answer in silence for a moment. “I suppose the younger generation always has... daring,” he considers, smiling faintly, “The willingness to question everything, to challenge everything. Seldom few people preserve that will as they grow older, and perhaps that is a tragedy.” Rising from his seat, the man gives you a probing look. “We disagree on a lot,” he states bluntly, “And I don't think that we'll ever change that. Regardless, I think that I can respect your position – so long as we're not forced into conflict with one another.”

You start to nod at that... but then you remember his bodyguard's brass knuckles, and the gash they left on your cheek. Frowning again, you turn away from him and look back at the golden tablet. Dimly, you see your distorted reflection in it – it makes you think of the Umbra, for some reason. Maybe the symbols carved into it...

“I'm glad that we understand each other,” Beckett concludes, taking your silence as agreement, “Well, I suppose I should join the others. As I'm sure that you've guessed, we've all got some very important business to discuss.”

>Sure, whatever you say. Goodbye
>Why do you believe in Monad so strongly?
>You might not want conflict, but you're sure preparing for it. I know about that stolen research
>Just what is that tablet, anyway? How did you find it?
>I had something that I wanted to ask you... (Write in)
>Other

>>2015836
>>Just what is that tablet, anyway? How did you find it?
>Why do you believe in Monad so strongly?

>>2015836
>You might not want conflict, but you're sure preparing for it. I know about that stolen research
"You might want to worry less about me and my kind and more towards figuring out how you're going to persuade the world to follow your 'Golden Path'. Peacefully of course. Do it violently or through dubious means your fellow Sentinels and the rest of the world will lash out at you and we already saw what Monad does to rejected Golden Paths."

>Why do you believe in Monad so strongly?
>Just what is that tablet, anyway? How did you find it?

>>2015836
>Why do you believe in Monad so strongly?
>Just what is that tablet, anyway? How did you find it?
We'll need to ask Maika and SAE about that tablet later. See what they can dig up about it.

>>2015866
We could take a picture and show it to Zakuro as well.

“You might not want conflict,” you begin carefully, trying not to let too much of an open accusation sneak into your voice, “But you're sure preparing for it. I know about the research that ZOE stole. Just something for an emergency?”

Beckett doesn't answer straight away, which you take as an admission of guilt. “Consider our position,” he replies, “Sentinels, those who have merged with a demon, have great power – and yet they are still dwarfed by the potential that your kind possesses. Men are fragile, while your kind can shake off horrific wounds in a matter of moments. The powers that our kind possess are dangerous to the wielder, while your abilities seem to draw from a limitless pool. Can you really blame us for seeking some means to combat your ilk? What if one of your number chose to set herself up as the Queen of this city?”

“We...” you begin, biting back your words before you let too much slip. We police our own, you almost said aloud. “We're not the ones you need to worry about,” you say instead, “If you want to persuade people to follow this golden path of yours, you're going to need to focus your efforts elsewhere. If you try and force it, I figure you'll have problems with your fellow Sentinels before you need to worry about us. We both know what happens when Monad thinks a path has been “rejected” by mankind.”

“Yes, yes we do,” Beckett muses, nodding slowly. He seems on the verge of saying something else to that, but he never does find the words. Eventually, you're the one to speak up next.

“Just what is this tablet?” you ask, gesturing to the lustrous object, “How did you find it, anyway?”

“If the Oracle is the voice of God, then that tablet is the word of God,” Beckett answers, “Knowledge that God... that Monad has sent to us. Knowledge that men once possessed, only for it to have become lost in the mists of time. Tablets like these were the foundation that the more esoteric aspects of our organisation was built around. The existence of demons, the means by which men can bind themselves to one and the means by which this union can be strengthened... Knowledge of impure things, perhaps, but knowledge that men required nonetheless.”

Gazing into the tablet – a reproduction, you have to remind yourself, not the real thing – you find yourself wondering so many things. “You could understand this?” you think aloud, “Enough to make use of it?”

“Well, that required a long and laborious process of experimentation,” Beckett scowls a little, “It certainly wasn't easy. Until the Oracle was able to assist us, we were like children fumbling in a darkened room. Our results were as much the product of accidents as they were deliberate successes.”

[1/2]

>>2015913

“As for how we came into possession of the original tablets...” glancing at you, he raises an eyebrow, “Two of your kind brought them to us, although we had no idea of who they were at the time. We would have loved to study them, to bring them into our organisation and truly understand them, but they were... difficult to deal with.”

“Wait,” you blurt out, “Magical girls?”

“Yes, two of them. As I said, we didn't know about your kind in those days. All we knew was that they were startlingly resourceful,” he offers you a wan smile, “Mercenaries, both of them. Terribly common in that part of the world. Somehow, I doubt that your master would have approved of their lifestyle. As far as I'm aware, they're still in the business – of course, I don't peer too closely into that sort of affair. It's a dirty business, killing for money.”

“But killing for faith is okay, right?” you snort, “Just why are you so faithful in Monad, anyway? Was there something that set it all off?”

“You've never been to London, have you?” Beckett asks in response, “I can't recommend it, it's an ugly place. The worst part of it isn't the shortages or the disorder, or even the way the entire city seems to be decaying with each passing day. No, the worst problem is the ennui. Men have no guidance, no meaning to their lives. In conditions such as those, is it any wonder that they have sunk into listlessness and depravity? In God, in Monad, I saw another way – a path that men could unite around.”

“Following the law and doing what they're told?” you snipe, unable to keep the jeering note out of your voice.

“If they were better off for it, why not?” he gives you an open gesture, “In my time at Saint Amelia's, I've seen some of the lowest men lifted up and given purpose, and they were all the happier for it. My man, Benjamin, is a perfect case study – despite his bleak past, his service has saved him. But, and I must stress this, it was only because he chose to be saved. You can't force men to believe – ask Sionann if you don't believe me. So you see, your concerns are baseless, I have no desire to force my ideals upon the world. It would only ever be a false utopia.”

Hearing his rationale reminds you a little of Karl – his desire for an orderly world. Considering that in silence, you take your phone out and snap a quick photograph of the gold tablet. The quiet click of your camera seems to draw a line under the whole conversation. “You're expected downstairs,” you tell Beckett, “It seems important.”

“Of course,” he agrees, glancing at your phone in brief confusion.

“It's for a friend,” you explain, “She likes history stuff.”

[2/3]

>>2015942

When you arrive back at the lobby, you see Kasumi leaning on the balcony and watching the small crowd below. She smiles, although there's a nasty edge to her expression that you don't quite like. When she sees you, she gives you a demure little wave. “My my, this is all very interesting,” she murmurs to you when you approach her, “Just about everyone down there dislikes everyone else. Just a little bit, mind you, but there are certainly some interesting grudges.”

“Jeez, what a dysfunctional lot,” you sigh, “Is that...”

“Oh no, no magic required,” Kasumi shakes her head, “But if you know the signs, it's like reading an open book. Let me see... the fat one, there.”

“Nebiros,” you reply, “What about him?”

“He hates Eligor. Despises him,” the elegant girl nods, “He seems Eligor as the root of all his failures, although he knows that he can't prove anything. He doesn't even know what he's accusing Eligor of. It makes him feel... powerless, impotent even.” A pause. “Well, I must admit, I needed a little magic for that last part,” she confesses, “But I'm not perfect. Not yet, at least.”

“Self-improvement is a never ending journey,” Jun announces, seeming to appear from nowhere, “I trust your meeting with Beckett went well? If you don't mind me asking, what did he want to talk about?”

“Nothing important. He was just making his excuses, I guess. Telling his side of the story,” you sigh, “Probably making sure that I wasn't going to hunt him down and kick his ass all the way back to England.” Kasumi coughs lightly, covering up a laugh, and you feel your cheeks heating up. “Uh, sorry. I guess I got a little carried away,” you tell Jun, “Point is, he was just wasting my-”

Before you can finish your sentence, a sudden wave of dizziness ripples through you. “Heavenly Child!” Kurosawa rasps, “I have a scent – no, multiple targets. I cannot identify a precise number. Location... beneath you, and surrounding the building.”

“We have hostile Intruders,” you tell Jun, before raising your voice and yelling to the entire room, “Intruders, below us, and outside! Lots of them, I don't know how many. Got any idea where they're coming from?”

“Beneath us, that's the ceremonial mirror,” Jun answers briskly, “And outside... the car windows, perhaps, or something within the surrounding buildings. That gives a lot of ground to cover.”

“We can chase them down,” Kasumi decides as Eligor marches upstairs to join you, “But-”

“I can deal with the Intruder beneath us,” Eligor interrupts, “Jun, you stay here and guard the others.”

>I'll go with my people. You guys handle things here
>I'll take the basement with you, Eligor
>Other

>>2016002
>>I'll take the basement with you, Eligor
This is a concerted attack. Odds are it's a Tyrant leading the assault. It'd be at the center while everyone else is distracted fighting the chaff surrounding the way out. You'd be outclassed horribly alone Eligor.

Kurosawa, keep an eye out and comms open. Let me or the others know if something comes up and changes.

>>2016002
>I'll take the basement with you, Eligor
Probably the biggest threat down there.

"Maika get a drone above this building and help keep tabs on the group surrounding us. Give call outs and directions."

>>2016002
>>I'll go with my people. You guys handle things here

>>2016002
>I'll take the basement with Eligor

The biggest one will definitely come out of a ceremonial mirror instead of a car window, and I want to see how someone whose power is steel skin will go on the offensive.

“I'll take the basement with you, Eligor,” you reply quickly, your thoughts rattling away like the wheels of a speeding train, “This is a concentrated attack, not just some random intrusion. There could even be a Tyrant at the centre of this, directing the...” Shaking your head harshly, you lean over the balcony. “Maika! Get a drone in the air and keep an eye on the area. I want to know if anything goes wrong up here,” you call out, “Kurosawa, keep me in contact with everyone. Let's all get it done!”

“Understood!” Kasumi snaps, transforming and hurrying down the stairs to join the others. The others are already fanning out, while Jun herds everyone else – those who can't fight – into a side room.

“You requested a buffet,” Eligor says dryly, setting down a large briefcase and snapping it open to reveal a sword, a beautiful weapon with a heavy and functional blade, “But that's going to have to wait.”

“It'll give us a chance to work up an appetite,” you reply, feeling your costume form around you.

-

As you march down towards the ceremonial mirror in the basement, Eligor transforms in his own way. The intricate circuitry tattooed into his skin blooms out into a wave of ink that covers his entire body. His face grows cold and inhuman, eyes narrowing to slits that shine with a soft, golden glow. His sword seems to glow as well, charged with a faint magic of its own – the same kind of magic that Nevis' brass knuckles had possessed, or perhaps a more refined form of it. In this new form, Eligor truly looks like the demon he is named after.

A demon in a business suit, that is.

He might look every bit as monstrous as some of the Intruders that you've fought, but you're still glad to have Eligor guiding you – if nothing else, he knows the way better than you do. Without speaking – and you wonder if he even CAN speak like this, seeing as his mouth seems to have faded into nothingness – he leads you out onto a balcony overlooking the theatre itself. Not so long ago, you recall, you were seeing Pietr here. Now, where he had once stood, a vile Intruder sprawls out from all three of the mirrors.

The thing is vast, more like a sea of black slime than any single cohesive form, but smaller forms constantly bubble up from within the mire. The sight of it causes you to hesitate, faltering as you see narrow tubes piercing out from within the Intruder. The tubes almost look like...

Black flesh deforms as the Intruder's body twists, plumes of fire belching out of the tubes as they fire like rifle barrels and fling a volley of bullets out at you. Snapping out of your trance, you duck down beneath a row of seats as the bullets chew through the air above you. Some of them bend through the air, hungrily seeking you out, but just one of them hits you, grazing across your scalp.

[1/2]

>>2016064

“Since when can these things shoot?” you curse, touching a hand to your scalp. The wound has already stopped bleeding, having vanished as if it had never been there. Eligor just gives you an unreadable look before vaulting over the balcony. You follow him, although you land badly and stumble a little. “Kurosawa?” you grunt, ducking behind a pillar, “Talk to me!”

“Tyrant confirmed,” he answers flatly, “I... do not understand. There was no indication that... I had no idea that...”

He says something else, muttering darkly to himself, but you don't catch the precise words. You're too busy recoiling away from the pillar as it turns slushy beneath you, warping into grasping tendrils as the world around you seems to fall under the Intruder's spell. That's something that Tyrants can DO, you remind yourself, you've just never had the misfortune to see it up close like this.

As more and more of the Tyrant forces its way into reality, it begins to assume some kind of crude form – bulging out at the centre until it looks like a budding flower, one studded with wavering rifle barrels. The guns fire at random, vomiting out aimless bullets that lazily guide themselves towards you once they've taken flight. One of them buries itself at your feet as you run from one spot of corrupted ground to a relatively “safe” spot, and you notice it buzzing like an angry hornet. Nausea tightens your insides at the sight.

Eligor grunts as he swings his sword through the air, swatting aside a few of those living bullets before dashing forwards and severing a few of the rifle barrels. Even that doesn't do much more than buy you a brief respite. How are you supposed to fight something that seems to be made of formless slime?

And yet even as you hesitate, more and more of it spreads out from the three ceremonial mirrors.

>Try burning the thing
>Focus on ripping off the rifle barrels
>Concentrate on the “flower” part of it
>Other

>>2016144
Miho should
>Try burning the thing
in an attempt to contain and get it's attention while Eligor
>Concentrates on the “flower” part of it

>>2016144
>Try burning the thing, but especially the flower part.

>>2016154
>>2016144
Also when we break from cover Shockwave first to stagger so we don't get pelted immediately and if we can get close enough to hit it Spellbreak em.

>>2016144
>>Concentrate on the “flower” part of it

Snarling a curse, you slap yourself on the side of the head and try to focus, but you barely feel the blow. With all the bullets whizzing around, filling the air around you, it's hard to concentrate on anything at all – whenever a plan starts to take form in your mind, it slips through your fingers like water. Worst still is the itching, a distracting feeling of something gnawing away at your scalp. It almost feels like-

“Oh shit!” you yell, leaping aside as a flabby tendril crashes down towards you. It smashes into the ground, and Eligor is quick to leap on it, pinning it down with his sword. A throaty growl emerges from within the budding flower, and the Intruder hesitates for a moment. He's bought you some time, and now you've got to make the best of it. Turning sharply around, you thrust out your gauntlets and spray twin jets of fire at the Intruder. When you burn the lowermost parts of it, the flesh bubbles and smoulders for a moment, more swallowing up the flames than burning. When you turn the flames on the budding flower, though, it gets a far more violent reaction. With a muffled howl, the Tyrant rips its tentacle free from Eligor – tearing it clean off the blade, nearly bisecting itself in the process.

Eligor, ducking under the wildly swinging tendril, points the tip of his sword at the bud. “I know!” you yell back, dimly noting that your words seem... slurred, “I'll burn it, you hit it hard!”

He nods, faltering a moment as he looks at you before focusing on the Tyrant once again. The tendril comes slamming down again, and this time he meets it in mid-air, hacking it clean in half. This sends the creature into a true frenzy, each and every one of the rifle barrels spraying out bullets as fast as they can. You duck into cover again, ducking behind a seat and wincing as a few of those bullets even chew through the meagre protection. This won't do at all. At the first break in the gunfire, you leap forwards and slam your hand down into the ground, releasing a Shockwave that rips through the tainted ground beneath you.

The wave of energy blasts out and staggers the Tyrant, causing the rifle barrels to wilt into place for a moment. Eligor lunges, then, burying the tip of his blade in the fleshy bud. It sticks fast, catching as he tries to rip the blade down and out. Cursing, you charge forwards and lunge to his side, grabbing the blade and lending your own strength to it. Together, you manage to saw down and split open the budding flower. When it tears open, it happens so suddenly that Eligor falls back and you lose your grip on the blade. Bursting out from within the flower, something grabs you.

Then it pulls, pulling you in with a hideous strength.

[1/2]

>>2016235
>Flower
Is this Zakuro?

>>2016235

Wetness, and the cloying smell of meat. That's what you wake up to, and you immediately wish that you could just pass out again. Your head is splitting, aching so hard that all even the most rudimentary of thoughts seems to elude you. Worse than the pain is the awful crawling sensation, as if you had a whole nest of ants exploring your scalp. You reach up to brush them away – forgetting for a moment that they aren't real ants – only for something, someone to take your hand and gently lower it back down to your side.

“Shh,” a voice murmurs, “You needn't worry about a thing. Just let everything slip away.”

“No, wait, that's not...” as you frown, you realise that your eyes are closed. Not just closed, but almost glued shut. As you try to open them, something slick touches you... stroking your head in a shockingly intimate way.

“You don't need to see,” the voice continues, “Don't open your eyes. Don't...”

“No!” you blurt out, your thoughts reforming for a single moment. Thrashing about in sudden panic, you reach desperately up and start to claw at your scalp, feeling congealed slime and wriggling roots squelch under your fingers. Vomit, hot and acidic, rises high in your throat as you rip at the meaty parasite despite the best efforts of the thing, the Tyrant, that has you enveloped. Frenzy finally lends you the strength to rip your eyes open, and-

“NO!” the Tyrant screeches, almost as if echoing your protests, “Don't look! Don't look at me!”

But you can't look away now. You can't look at anything BUT the loathsome, fungoid thing that sprouts up from the swampy black flesh. Even with the bare outline of a human woman, it's clear that the Tyrant is little more than rot and decay, held together by nests of burrowing insects and plants. Stinking flowers, bloated mushrooms and wildly criss-crossing vines give it form, but that's not the worst part. The worst part is that the Tyrant isn't alone – there are other bodies, equally tainted, fused into the meaty walls of the flower bud. You could have joined them, if you hadn't shaken off those poisonous whispers.

Yelling hoarsely, you launch into a furious attack. It's hard to land a proper blow like this, with the walls pressing in around you and limp arms tugging at you, but what you lack in form you make up with in desperate strength. Each blow knocks away great clumps of pulpy flesh, coating your hands in unspeakable fluids. Drawing back as best you can, you raise your hand to crush the Tyrant's head when-

“Please,” it whispers, “Please... no...”

You hesitate. The plea makes you think of Zakuro, and how she could listen to reason reason. Could this Tyrant be like her?

>Finish the job and destroy the Tyrant
>Show mercy, and stay your hand
>Other

>>2016346
>Finish the job and destroy the Tyrant

>>2016346
>>Other

"Why?"

What we're asking 'why' about is up to her.

>>2016346
>Show mercy and stay your hand.

We did spare Zakuro, and I am curious if Intruders can be redeemed. At the very least she can tell us about this invasion.

>>2016346
>Hold off for now
But keep our hand ready to crush at a moments notice.

"Give me one damn good reason why I shouldn't. You attacked us and almost killed me. Why I shouldn't I stop what you did to those people, what you almost did to me, from happening to anyone else?"

>>2016346
>"Why?"

>>2016370
Reminder that Zakuro wasn't completely an Intruder. Zakuro also didn't attack the human world.

>>2016379
This, basically. Hand around the head, but not squeezing.

>>2016346
>Give me a good reason not to end you right now monster.


Guys I think Zakuro might have finally lost it.

>>2016402
I don't think that's her tbqh.

Now that the thought of Zakuro has come into your mind, you can't get it out. This thing, this Tyrant, even came to you in the form of a flower like Zakuro, almost as if trying to imitate your inhuman ally. Maybe... maybe you're reading too much into it, but you just can't bring yourself to crush it out of existence without at least checking. You NEED to be sure.

And so, with your blow poised and ready, held up like the executioner's blade, you look straight into the Tyrant's pleading eyes and ask: “Why?”

“Please... no,” it burbles, “Please...”

“Why?” you repeat, spitting the words out, “Give me one damn reason that I shouldn't kill you, right here. You came into OUR world and started this fight! You tried to kill me, to turn me into one of those-”

Your words are cut off by a strangled cry as one of those loathsome hands finds you, cracked and broken nails digging into your skin and raking across your scalp. It closes around a fistful of your hair and jerks your head back as another arm – or maybe several of them – grab your wrist and stop your killing blow from landing. Yelling out in defiance, you struggle as the main body of the Tyrant presses itself up against you. One of its hands is melting, growing slushy and malleable, while the other closes around your face in an iron grip, forcing open your mouth. Realisation hits you like a lightning bolt – it means to...

“Please... die...” the Tyrant purrs, decaying lips peeling back to reveal a grin of broken teeth. Just as that seeping mass of putrescent flesh, you bring your knee up in a last, desperate gambit. The blow has barely any strength behind it, but it serves to stun the Tyrant for a moment – just long enough for you to let off a short burst of flame from your gauntlets. In this confined space, the flames lap at both of you – hungrily setting into your flesh just as much as hers – but you barely notice. The Tyrant, on the other hand, shrieks like a lunatic and reels back, every single pair of arms drawing back from you in sudden terror.

It's a chance that you don't waste. Lunging forwards, you seize its head between both palms and crush it to pulp, soft bones disintegrating in your hands. The whole thing, in fact, starts to dissolve away to nothing as the Tyrant dies. Slumping back, you let yourself fall through the dissipating creature and hit the mercifully solid floor with a thump. It takes you a moment to shake off your fatigue and slap out the last patches of fire that cling to your clothes. Limply flopping back, you stare up at the ceiling until Eligor approaches to stand over.

“Count me out for that buffet,” you gasp, “I think I lost my appetite.”

>I'm going to pause things here for today. I'll continue this tomorrow, and if anyone has any questions I'll answer them if I can
>Thanks to everyone who contributed today!

>>2016457
ok that is twice now we've offered mercy and been taken advantage of. No third tries.

>>2016457
Yeah at this point I'm going to assume Zakuro is unique and all Tyrants are malicious.

Thanks for running Moloch

>>2016457
Thanks for running!

Eligor did way better than I expected. He must have some amount of inscreased strength or something in that form. Defense is just his specialty rather than his only enhancement?


>>2016469
We should always keep trying. Just not on any more pure Intruders.

>>2016523

That's correct, yes. He's capable of pushing his body to pretty superhuman levels - which means, sadly for him, about as strong as certain teenage girls.

>>2016469
>>2016506

But at least we have the moral high ground!

>>2016457
Thanks for running!

When are we gonna find out that Beckett totally wanted to harm us and Ayane is in cahoots with him because he promised her 72 virgins in the afterlife?

>>2016554
About our tier physically along with his defense is pretty dang powerful.

>>2016554
How fucked up is Miho's wardrobe with all the tears and rips from all the wounds she suffers? Did she do her own laundry so her parents didn't see the bloodstains?

>>2016597

Maybe that's why her wardrobe is pretty lacking? She just threw away anything too filthy or damaged and brought a spare outfit everywhere.
There may be a continuity error here, actually. I might have stated close to the start that clothing damage doesn't transfer to "real" clothes. Honestly though, I prefer it this way.

>>2016575

That does sound like a pretty persuasive offer, now that you mention it!

>>2016643
>There may be a continuity error here, actually.
Yeah I think the tank damaged Miho's clothes so bad they got her a new change of clothes when she woke up.

Baseless Theories Corner:

Destroying the source will also slay the gods, removing their aspects from humanity.

Destroying the source removes them from ALL history, creating a timey-wimey paradox that reverts all the way back to the birth of Intruders. Everyone you know and love will probabalistically die and be replaced with others. Only the gods will know that you even succeeded.

Hikari is going to replace Miho's spot as Sacrificial Soul

Nebiros is hot for Eligor

Emi's brother is going to catch on, then purposely get Intrudered by his biological sister.

>>2017520
>Emi's brother is going to catch on, then purposely get Intrudered by his biological sister.

What did you mean by this?

>>2017778
become a sentinel

File: Emi Miyakawa.jpg (276 KB, 1215x1215)

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“Look at all this mess,” Jun sighs, gesturing to the shattered theatre with an expansive sweep of the hand, “This was a sacred place once. Well, it's ruined now – there's no way that we'll be able to use this place for anything after this. Even if we clean everything up and repair every little bit of damage...” Frowning, he brushes down a section of balcony with a clean handkerchief before leaning on it. “It just won't do,” he tuts to himself, “If only the Oracle had-”

“Hey!” you snap, looking up and shooting him a vicious glare, “Don't blame this on me!”

“Sit still,” Doctor Fujiwara scolds, placing both her hands on your shoulders to stop you from getting up. Not that she could stop you, if you really wanted to get up, but the gesture calms you down a little. Sitting back down, you let her return to the gory task of stitching your scalp shut. It's just a rough job, to hold everything in place until your body heals on its own, but she insisted. Frankly, you didn't have the energy to refuse her offer.

“I'm not blaming this on anyone,” Jun replies soothingly, “In fact, I'd say that we'd be in a significantly worse position if not for you. Still, the fact remains the same – we may well have had more warning if the Oracle had been operating.”

“Or ZOE could have brushed this one under the rug as well, to try and get me killed,” you counter, “Again!”

“That is also a possibility,” the young man acknowledges, bowing his head ever so slightly, “So, all things considered, I'm wiling to accept that we got a favourable outcome here today.” Straightening up, Jun fastidiously checks his shirt sleeves for any dirt. “Tell me again, about how it spoke with you,” he adds, “For the official report. I'll take a rough statement from you now, then get Shaw to type up something more formal.”

“Not much to tell, I guess,” you reply, wincing a little as you feel Fujiwara's needle prick at your scalp, “It... begged for mercy. I guess I've just got a heart of gold, because I gave it a chance – and look what happened, the damn thing almost scalped me.”

“I think it was a very brave thing you did, not to mention compassionate,” the doctor offers, “I don't know if I would have done the same thing, if I'd been in your position. Then again, um, I try very hard not to be put in that kind of position.” Patting you on the shoulder, she stands up and takes a step back to inspect her work. “All done,” she assures you in a falsely cheerful tone, “But, um, you might want to... avoid mirrors for a while. It looks worse than it is.”

“Give it to me straight, doc,” you grunt, “Does it really look THAT bad?”

“No!” Fujiwara insists, “No, it just looks a little-”

“Hey Miho, we-” Emi announces as she arrives, “Oh shit, you got fucking scalped!”

A dismayed groan is all you can manage as a reply.

[1/2]

>>2018812

It's a little hard to follow the narrative as Emi excitedly relates her side of the story. From what you can gather, there were a lot of Intruders – enough that often, the group was encircled or forced to retreat to more defensive positions – and they were smart. Like their Tyrant master, they had guns – albeit of a filthy and rotting kind – and their bodies were riddled with grotesque flowers.

“And like, whenever we turned our back on them, more of the little shits appeared,” Emi concludes, “They just kept on coming until, uh, until they stopped coming. I guess that was when you killed the leader. Either way, I'm gonna have to shower for a whole week or something just to get the stink out, yuck...”

Now that she's mentioned it, you can't help but notice the rank stench clinging to your clothes. This is one uniform that's beyond saving, you suspect. “I guess the meeting is gonna be cancelled,” you think aloud, trying to take your mind off the smell, “So now what?”

“I heard some of the guys talking about arranging rides for us while they stay here and talk,” Emi replies with an indifferent shrug, “They had drivers out there, with Bradley. Shit, the number of times I nearly got my ass shot off trying to keep them safe... anyway, point is, they got people here to drive us about.”

“That's correct,” Jun mentions, overhearing the conversation and bringing some much-needed calm to it. Waving for you to follow him, he leads both of you back to the lobby. “I'm going to stay here with the rest of the council – I have duties to attend to – but you'll be taken home if you wish,” pausing for a moment, he checks his phone, “Ah, if you'll excuse me. I'll leave you to sort things out amongst yourselves.”

With that, he slips away and leaves you to regroup with the others. They all look ragged and fatigued, even Kasumi – this, you think, might very well be the first time that you've seen her looking harried. It's only when Ayane touches your arm and you jolt up that you realise your attention was wandering so much.

“Hey, Miho,” she tells you, “I was heading with Emi to hers. Her parents are out at work, so we'll get the chance to freshen up. Shiori doesn't deserve me coming home like this. Anyone else wanna come with me?”

“I was just heading home,” Maika says quietly, “I wanted to stay here, but Father asked me to go back and rest.”

“I'll be heading home as well,” Kasumi smiles proudly as she says this, “I have a place now, in the Kanzaki Automated Industries tower. Employee quarters, true, so it's nothing that you call “fancy”. Even so, I feel like a young professional!”

>I'll just head back to mine. I'm real tired
>Ayane, Emi, I'll join you
>Maika, do you mind if I come with you?
>I'd like to see your new place, Kasumi
>Other

>>2018815
>Ayane, Emi, I'll join you

>>2018815
>I'd like to see your new place, Kasumi
"Congratulations by the way"
>Other
"Before we split up though we need to talk about something. Let's find somewhere a little more private."

Ayane wanted to talk about the Sacrifice right?

>>2018834
I don't think this is a good time to talk about the Sacrifice. No one can think clearly right now.

>>2018815
>I'd like to see your new place, Kasumi

>>2018840
What? Why? We are just a bit tired from a fight.

>>2018815
>>I'd like to see your new place, Kasumi.

>>2018834
I think we should save that for later, though I'd rather have it stay a secret.

>>2018844
It's not much of a secret. Everyone but Emi heard us talk about it with Monad and Emi already has an idea about our role back when we came to her for advice after we learned about it. All that's left is elaboration.

>>2018815
>>I'd like to see your new place, Kasumi

File: Kasumi Sato.jpg (604 KB, 1080x1080)

604 KB JPG

“I'd like to see your new place, Kasumi,” you remark, smiling a little at her enthusiasm, “You think it's in a good enough state for guests?”

“Oh my, I'm not so certain about that. I've got so much clutter that needs sorting away!” Kasumi widens her eyes in mock horror, “Ah, but Miho... you don't seem like the type to let a little clutter bother you, so I suppose that it doesn't matter. If you wish to see it, I'd be happy to play host for a little.”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” you decide, hesitating a little before continuing, “And look, while we're all here... I think we should talk. Maybe we can find somewhere a little more private, so we don't need to worry about being overheard. I think you all know what this is about, even if the details are-”

“Excuse me,” Maika interrupts carefully, raising a slender hand to keep you from saying anything else, “But I don't think we should really consider anywhere here to be appropriately private. Perhaps we should save this for tomorrow, at our usual gathering place.” Glancing around at the others for a moment, gauging their moods, she gives you a concerned look. “And... yes. I think we all have an inkling about what this concerns,” she adds, “Which is why we might be better off saving it for tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I gotta agree,” Ayane nods, albeit reluctantly, “Let's settle this tomorrow. You remember what I said, right?”

“Right,” a humourless smile tugs at one corner of your mouth, “You won't let me wriggle out of it.”

“Good girl,” slapping you lightly on the arm, Ayane steps back and gives you a short wave, “Now go on and have fun. Don't do anything that I wouldn't do!”

-

Stepping outside feels like walking onto a battlefield after the war has finished. The lesser buildings clustered around the manor have been ravaged, riddled with bullet holes and larger scars. At more than one place, it looks as though someone – or something – was rammed directly through the walls. Dark stains cling to various surfaces while patches of dirt have become swampy with spilled fluids. The cars haven't fared much better, dirtied and damaged by the skirmish.

“Quite a mess,” Kasumi murmurs, idly glancing about as your group walks towards the waiting cars. Bradley gives you all a solemn wave, and Maika hurries off to join him. A different driver, a man that you don't recognise, gestures towards you and Kasumi, waving you over to his thankfully intact vehicle. “Hello there,” Kasumi says to the driver, bowing slightly, “Can you take us back into Ark City?”

“That's my job,” he replies bluntly, clearly not in the mood for a conversation.

[1/2]

>>2018815
>>I'd like to see your new place, Kasumi

>>2018916

It's already growing late by the time you arrive back in Ark City, which mercifully thins out the crowds somewhat. Your sullen driver takes you straight to the Kanzaki Automated Industries tower, dropping you off before speeding away without so much as a word. Watching him leave, you let out a weary laugh.

“I guess not everyone likes ferrying about a bunch of kids,” you remark, “Sometimes, you know, I think these people would be happier if we weren't here.”

“We're making them look bad,” Kasumi replies, shrugging off the matter, “Shall we head inside? I'll warn you again, my room really isn't much to look at, but... well, I'm happy with it.” Offering you a solemn smile, she turns and marches into the building with long, confident strides. You pass through security without a problem, without the discrete guards even glancing up from their posts, and soon you're riding a smooth elevator towards one of the upper floors.

-

You've got to admit, Kasumi's quarters seem more like a hotel room than a proper home. A nice hotel room, definitely nicer than the average lodgings, but still just a hotel room – a faceless, uniform room with barely any identity of its own. Most of her belongings are still boxed up and stacked in a corner, which certainly doesn't help the plain air. Despite all of this, Kasumi beams with pride as she gestures around.

“Here we are,” she purrs, “Would you like some tea? I don't really have a kitchen of my own, but I have a few basic fittings. Sit down, please, pick any chair that you like.” She offers you a self-deprecating laugh as she says this, nodding towards the only two chairs in the room. A few moments later, when the tea is ready, she presses a warm cup into your hands and sits opposite you, perhaps waiting for you to say something.

“Got kind of a minimalist look going on,” you tell her, simply voicing the first thing that comes to mind, “That's pretty “in” these days, isn't it?”

Kasumi giggles at that, covering her mouth with one delicate hand. “Yes, I suppose it is,” she agrees, “You know, I really do have you to thank for this. Well, you and Maika's father – quite honestly, I never would have thought to just ask him for a job. Life, I always thought, is never that simple.”

“Hey, you never know, right?” shrugging, you take a swallow of the hot green tea and feel some of your fatigue lift, “Anyway, I'm just glad that you're setting down roots here. Living around dru... I mean, unsavoury types like that was gonna get you in trouble eventually. I couldn't let one of my girls get caught up in a mess like that, could I?”

“Of course, of course,” Kasumi murmurs, her eyes narrowing with gentle humour, “Ever the pragmatist.”

[2/3]

>>2019024

“Oh yes, there was something that I wanted to... excuse me, please. I know that I must be a terrible host for making you wait like this, but would you give me a moment?” Kasumi sets her tea aside and rises, gesturing towards the stack of boxes, “There's something that I'd like to find. It shouldn't take more than a moment, I packed my things very carefully. Please, just finish your tea.”

“Uh, okay,” you reply, shrugging a little as she starts to check each box in turn. When she finds the one that she was looking for, Kasumi opens it and whispers something to herself. Sneaking a quick glimpse over her shoulders, you see that the box is full of books. Pulling out one book in particular, Kasumi nods firmly to herself. “So,” you guess, “Found what you're looking for?”

“Yes. Exactly the thing,” Kasumi sits back down, stroking a hand across the book's faded leather binding. “This book is very important to me,” she explains, “It's a manual of elocution – quite old and possibly valuable, although I would never sell it. This book... I found it, by simple chance, when I was younger. Those weren't good times for me, so I'd read and reread this book to take my mind off things. I'd say that this book made me the person that I am today.”

“Okay...” you repeat, unsure of where she's going with this, “It looks good, despite the age. You've treated it well, haven't you?”

“I have,” nodding again, Kasumi holds it out to you, “And now, I'd like you to have it.”

You hesitate, leaving her words hanging in mid-air.

>Thank you, Kasumi. I'll be sure to treat it with care
>I'm sorry, but I can't accept this. You should keep it
>Elocution lessons? Are you trying to tell me something?
>Other

>>2019061
>Thank you, Kasumi. I'll be sure to treat it with care
>Elocution lessons? Are you trying to tell me something?
"I may be a tad bit blunt sometimes but I'm not... Emi-blunt. Right?"

>>2019061
>I'm sorry, but I can't accept this. You should keep it
>Elocution lessons? Are you trying to tell me something?
>I think this would suit Emi or Ayane better.

>>2019061
>Thank you, Kasumi. I'll be sure to treat it with care
>Wait, are you implying somethng!?

>>2019061
>Thank you, Kasumi. I'll be sure to treat it with care.
>Are you implying something?

>>2019061
>>Thank you, Kasumi. I'll be sure to treat it with care
>Elocution lessons? Are you trying to tell me something?
Is this because of how I talked to God? It deserved a little lip don't you think?

File: Kurosawa.jpg (52 KB, 724x1103)

52 KB JPG

Hesitating for a moment more, you reach up to take the old book she offers. The leather is soft with age, and the feel of it against your fingertips is strangely comforting. It makes you think of the antique store you pass on the way to school, of all the faded treasures that you've seen in the window. Weighing the book in your hand, you glance back up to Kasumi. She waits with bright, expectant eyes, and you feel yourself smiling in response. This is her treasure, as special to her as Hikari's scarf is to you, and she's choosing to give it away – to you.

“Thank you, Kasumi,” you reply, your voice hushed with gratitude., “I'll be sure to treat it with care.”

“I should hope so too,” Kasumi agrees, trying very hard to sound stern, “Books should be treated with respect.”

“But, uh...” you pause again, chuckling weakly to yourself, “Elocution lessons? You're not trying to imply anything, are you? I know that I can be blunt at times, but not like... Emi levels of blunt, yeah?”

“Hmm,” pursing her lips in thought, Kasumi studies you for a moment, “I certainly wouldn't say that you're at that level, but you've definitely got room for improvement. Less “uh” and “like” for starters, and that's before we start on your profanity. I DO think that Emi has been a bad influence on you in that regard. A lady's tongue ought to remain unsullied.”

“I'll do my best. Let's not hope for a miracle, though,” a thought occurs to you as you pass the book from one hand to the other, “Is this about the way I talked to Monad? Because really, it deserved a bit of that. Someone needed to give it a good talking to, and it certainly wasn't going to be any of the Sentinels.” You frown then, as you recall something else about that dream-like conversation. “Or Kurosawa, come to think of it,” you add, “He's been very... quiet about it.”

“I have been thinking,” Kurosawa announces, causing both you and Kasumi to jolt upright as he appears on the nearby desk, “Perhaps thinking too much. I was so focused on recent events that the Tyrant slipped past unnoticed. An unforgivable error, but thankfully one that did not end in disaster.”

“Things, uh, things could've been worse,” you reply, flashing Kasumi a brief smile before correcting yourself, “Things certainly could have been worse.” She beams at you, clapping politely as Kurosawa gives you an unreadable look. “So, what have you been thinking about?” you ask, “Anything in particular?”

“My role in the immediate future,” Kurosawa answers honestly, “If you are successful, and the unclean source is destroyed, my duty will be concluded. I... do not know what follows from that, and neither does Sacrifice. We have discussed the matter at some length, yet we are still to reach a conclusion.”

[1/2]

>>2019147
I just realised something, did that Tyrant drop a key?

>>2019147

“My my, you must be quite bemused by it all,” Kasumi muses, “You've been working towards this goal for so long, little wonder that you're uncertain of what comes next. I know that mere humans like us might not be able to understand your perspective, but... would you like to talk about it? It might help you put your thoughts in order, to hear them said aloud.”

Kurosawa holds his tongue for a long moment, faint ripples of static running through his body as he thinks to himself. “I think not,” he concludes, “Neither you nor I would benefit from hearing my complaints, and I am not yet ready to discuss them. Perhaps later, once I have considered my position in greater detail.”

When an awkward silence descends over the room, you hasten to change the subject. “Say, that last Tyrant we fought,” you point out, “I didn't get a key from it. Is that because there's nothing left for us to unlock?”

“That is correct, yes,” Kurosawa confirms, “The Umbra lies open and unsealed, with no doors left to bar your passage. If these keys you have been collecting were symbolic of your progress, the absence of one represents the approaching end of your journey. Consider it a good omen, and take heart.”

It's not easy for you to see it in such reassuring terms, but you offer Kurosawa your best attempt at a smile. The god studies you for a moment more before flickering out of sight – his departure having the air of a retreat about it. “The end of our journey...” you sigh to yourself.

“Yes,” Kasumi nods, “Say, Miho, did you have an idea of when we were going to...”

“Soon. After the festival,” you interrupt, “We've got some business left to conclude, but once that's been settled...” Shrugging, you force a smile. “So hey, let's not worry about it too much now,” you tell her, “It would be a real shame if we let it spoil our weekend, wouldn't it?”

“Quite so,” a look of intense concentration passes across Kasumi's face as she looks you up and down, “And speaking of the festival, I have a VERY important question to ask you.” Pausing again, she gives you a serious look. “What were you thinking of wearing?” she asks, “Traditional clothing, perhaps, or something more modern? I do hope you're not going to wear just any old clothes!”

“Huh?” you blurt out, “Is that what you call important?”

“Oh yes,” she nods firmly, “Absolutely.”

>Traditional clothes, I guess. It'll be something new
>Something modern, but fancy enough. You've got to make an effort for these things, right?
>I hadn't thought about it. Just my usual clothes, I guess
>Other

>>2019262
>Traditional clothes, I guess. It'll be something new
Gotta go with the yukata/kimono man.

>>2019262
>Traditional clothes, I guess. It'll be something new.

>>2019262
>Traditional clothes, I guess. It'll be something new

>>2019262
>>Something modern, but fancy enough. You've got to make an effort for these things, right?
We're expecting the Saint of the Abyss, so we shouldn't wear anything too constricting.

>>2019262
>Traditional clothes, I guess. It'll be something new
It's the festival episode, we have to.

“Traditional clothes, I guess,” you decide after a moment's thought, “It'll be something new, certainly. I've never worn that kind of thing before, you see, but I kinda like the idea. What about you?”

“Oh, definitely traditional,” Kasumi agrees, your decision causing a warm and approving smile to spread across her face, “A Summer festival calls for a nice yukata, something light and airy. I was planning to go shopping tomorrow, actually, once we've finished our business. Say, do you think that it'll take long?”

“Hopefully not,” you assure her, grimacing a little at the unenviable task ahead of you, “But it's hard to be sure. I mean, I don't expect that it'll take all day, so you needn't worry about that.” A thought occurs to you, then, and you feel some of your good cheer – what little you had left – evaporating. “Oh, but we probably shouldn't wear anything too fancy on the first day of the festival,” you add, “That's when I'm expecting to have trouble.”

“Trouble?” a slight frown settles onto Kasumi's face, “You sound like there's something specific that you're expecting. Is this what we were going to discuss tomorrow?”

“Partially, yeah,” angrily shaking your head, you fight back the urge to groan aloud. “I hate keeping this stuff from you all,” you confess, “But it's not easy to talk about. Anyway, what I'm saying is...”

“Save the nice clothes for later?” Kasumi finishes for you.

“Exactly, yeah,” you agree, nodding gratefully.

>I'm going to have to pause here for a little bit, so the next post will likely be delayed. Sorry about this.

You talk for a while more over a second round of tea, laughing and joking as you attempt a few of the exercises from Kasumi's elocution manual. Your attempts at formality do improve somewhat, although Kasumi never fails to giggle a little whenever you mess up and curse, still in a haughty tone of voice. Just as you're about to leave for the night, she rises and takes a close look at your scalp before holding up a mirror so that you can see as well. The wound has healed beautifully, your frayed Emotional Barrier soothed by your little night in.

“Did you do this on purpose?” you ask as you study your scalp in the mirror, “To help me heal up?”

“Hmm, maybe I did,” Kasumi muses, offering you a mysterious smile, “Or maybe I didn't.”

-

There's no denying that the mood is far from bright when the next day finds you all gathered at the shrine. It's a still day, warm and without even a breath of wind. Emi and Kasumi are waiting for you when you arrive, playing cards on the dusty stone tiles. When you arrive with Ayane and Maika in tow, the young girl hastens to put away her cards and gives you a blameless smile.

“There's totally nothing wrong with playing cards in a shrine,” she insists, “Especially since, like, we weren't gambling or anything. Kasumi said there's nothing wrong with it and she's like, the expert in all this shrine stuff.”

“Yes I am,” Kasumi agrees grimly, “But now we've got business to discuss. Important business, wasn't it?”

“I guess so,” you sigh, moving to stand in the middle of your rough circle. “As you all know, I'm the Heavenly Child,” you begin, starting with the basics, “That means that I was chosen by Sacrifice, and my role was... is to do just that. The unclean source can never truly die unless a Heavenly Child – a girl like me – chooses to offer up her life at the same time. So, uh, this is one road that I wouldn't have come back from. I know that this sounds bad, but-”

“Bad?” Emi yelps, “You're damn right this is bad! Who the hell makes these shitty rules? It's not enough that we gotta fight like this while the gods do nothing, but you gotta die as well? This is... this is...” Trailing off, she looks around at the others in search of agreement. “C'mon, you're all just gonna accept this?” she protests, throwing her hands up in an angry gesture, “You're just gonna sit there like this is no big deal?”

“This doesn't come as a complete surprise,” Maika admits, choosing her words carefully, “Miho mentioned as much when she spoke with Monad, and we were all witness to the conversation – except for you. So, even though we didn't know the precise details, we had a certain degree of warning. However, I don't think any of us really wanted to...”

“To talk about it,” Ayane finishes, “Because then it would be real.”

[1/2]

>>2019639

“But it's not a done deal. I mean, it's not certain,” you insist, your voice drawing everyone's attention back to you, “We may have a way to avert it – a way of breaking the rules so that we can destroy the source without... without me having to sacrifice myself. The answer lies with Zakuro, with the things I've learned from her. She spoke of a girl, a Heavenly Child from ancient years who fought her way to the unclean source. But, rather than fight the source, she listened to it – she made a deal with it.”

Silence. Even Emi can't bring herself to break the stillness, and so you continue on. “I don't know exactly how the deal went down,” you continue, “But the girl – the Saint of the Abyss – was granted a power capable of destroying even the gods. Perhaps that power can be used to destroy the unclean source as well. I just need to... take it from her.”

“Which brings us to the pressing issue,” Maika thinks aloud, “This Saint of the Abyss – do we know how to find her?”

“Zakuro can guide us there, but only when the time is right – when our world is brought together in celebration,” again you pause, waiting to see if anyone will speak up before pressing on. “The festival,” you conclude, “When the festival begins, we can hunt down this Saint. Then, with her power, we can go after the source itself... and maybe finish this once and for all.”

“Man, I don't understand none of this,” Emi grumbles, daring to break the pregnant silence that follows your explanation, “But all I know is this – if we've got a shot at this, we gotta take it.”

The others murmur agreement, but without much spirit. Your heart sinks a little at the display, but then you remind yourself – you've had to live with this for longer than they have, it shouldn't be a surprise that they're taking it badly. “Let's all stay focused on the bright side!” you order, feigning a smile, “We've got a better shot at this than anyone else who's come before us, that's got to count for something!”

“Yeah, I get what you're saying,” Ayane sighs, “But it's like... jeez, I don't know. I just don't know what to say about this.”

“I think perhaps we all need some time to process this,” Maika adds, taking a more diplomatic tone, “With the festival on Friday, we've all got ample time to think things over. Perhaps we should all take a little time out and regroup later?”

>Alright. Let's regroup on Friday and head into the Umbra. Contact me if anything comes up
>There's something I need to do before the festival... (Write in)
>Other

This isn't a point of no return thing, this is just a chance to clear up any small things left over before skipping ahead a few days.

>>2019770
>Alright. Let's regroup on Friday and head into the Umbra. Contact me if anything comes up

>>2019770
Well there is one thing, but it can probably be done when Zakuro takes us to the Saint's lair. We know from Monad that the Source uses fear strong enough to stop over a hundred girls from finishing it off. Girls that were strong enough that they were about to give up their lives for this. Maybe there is a way to counteract or shield us from it's influence? If there is a way Zakuro would probably know.

>Alright. Let's regroup on Friday and head into the Umbra. Contact me if anything comes up

>>2019770
>Alright. Let's regroup on Friday and head into the Umbra. Contact me if anything comes up

Maybe go on another date with Pietr before the festival? Don't need to tell these losers about that though.


>>2019798
We might already have it. I wonder how many of the previous Heavenly Children started off as Dutiful Squires? If none of them, the sense of Duty we have might be what enables us to make the sacrifice.

>>2019836
Can't hurt to check out other options just in case, but I do agree that Miho is more Duty than Sacrifice in terms of demeanor.

When we are about to go into the last part of Umbra we should bring Hikari's picture with us, maybe write some comforting words to ourselves beforehand that we can read if Source is mindfucking us. Just throwing out ideas.

Wait, do we have a plan for how to NOT kill ourselves for this?

I mean, it was implied that there's a loophole or a Plan C we just had to figure out.

>>2019909
Get god killing weapon from saint
Use it to kill source instead of throwing our soul at it for mutual obliteration.

>>2019909
Miho just explained it. Take Saint's weapon and turn it on the Source instead of using our soul.

>>2019920
>>2019927
I'm a derp. Didn't realize that WAS the substitute, not just a superweapon.

“Alright, that sounds like a plan,” you announce, taking a moment to look everyone in the eye before nodding firmly, “We'll regroup on Friday and head into the Umbra. I want to talk a few things over with Zakuro, and then we can... well, we can do this thing. Contact me if anything comes up before the weekend, or even if you just want to talk about this stuff. You know me, my door is always open.”

“Understood, boss,” Emi says, sketching a loose salute, “What are you gonna do now?”

“We're going shopping,” Kasumi declares, giving her and the others a firm look, “New clothes for the festival. I hope you'll be dressing up as well, you three!”

“Looks like I'm going shopping,” you tell Emi with a weary smile.

-

Actually, you're glad that Kasumi takes the lead in dragging you around the shops – without her calling the shots, you'd have no idea of what to do or where to start. Following her lead takes you into a discrete little shop down a worryingly narrow side street. The shop itself almost seems like something that has always been here, leaving the rest of Ark City to spring up around it and swallow it up. The proprietor looks about as old as the shop itself, her face so wizened that her eyes seem hidden behind a veil of wrinkles.

Still, she seems to know her stuff. Barking thickly accented instructions at you, she takes all manner of measurements before waving a book of cloth samples under your nose. The whole thing feels faintly nightmarish, although Kasumi finds it greatly amusing, in her own demure sort of way. After an indeterminate amount of time your ordeal draws to a close and you stumble out of the shop, having bought – you think – an elegant yukata of black and silver fabric.

“We'll pick them up on Thursday,” Kasumi tells you with a wink, “She works fast.”

“I bet,” you breathe, “Isn't this stuff kinda... expensive, though?”

“Maybe a little,” she admits, “But I was given an advance on my wages – an allowance, you see, to buy clothes with. Work clothes, technically, but I don't think anyone will mind if I take a few liberties.”

“Jeez...” you sigh, “I guess my dad can pick up the bill this time...”

-

That night, you have a bad dream – worse than your usual fare. You wake up with a scream on your lips and a terrible heat radiating off your skin. You feel as though you were plucked fresh from a furnace, and that isn't even the worst part of it. Worse of all is the fear, a nameless terror that sinks deeper into your heart rather than fading away. It almost feels like a promise – a threat that when you come face to face with the Saint of the Abyss, you might not come back alive.

Fumbling for your phone, you find yourself scrolling down to Pietr's name.

[1/2]

>>2020035

The phone rings for a long time before you get an answer. “Miho?” Pietr mumbles, “What time is it? Did something...”

“I...” you pause, still not quite sure why you called him, “I was wondering if you wanted to hang out sometime. Tomorrow maybe. Do you think you can get some time off?”

“Hang out?” he repeats, “Uh, probably? They've been working me like a dog lately, between one thing and another. That Yu business... Anyway, I think I can get the afternoon off. Listen, are you feeling okay? You sounded a little crazy there. I heard about what happened on Monday, Jun said that-” Stopping himself before he says anything more than that, Pietr takes a moment to consider his next words. “Well, we can talk about that tomorrow. Not that I'm being picky or anything,” he concludes, “But are we doing anything... special?”

“We're hanging out,” you repeat firmly. You don't want to hint at anything more than that – not after last time.

-

It's a small miracle that Ayane is long gone by the time Pietr meets you at the school gates, as she certainly wouldn't pass up the chance to tease you for meeting him like this. No matter how innocent it might be, she would see the worst of it – that's just the kind of person she is. Either way, you meet the boy without any complications and lead him to a small cafe, not any of your usual places.

“So...” Pietr begins, toying with his drink, “You seemed worried yesterday, on the phone. Or stressed, maybe. Was it what happened on Monday? Or was it something to do with the Oracle? I'm still trying to get the full story out of Jun, but he's being very evasive about it. He just told me that the more he tells me, the worse it'll be for everyone.” He laughs suddenly, shrugging a little. “If that's the case, then I probably shouldn't be asking about it, should I?” the boy remarks, “Anyway, what I meant was... are you okay?”

“I've got some stuff coming up. Big important magical girl business,” you tell him, “It's a bit like your initiation, in a way – what happens here might very well determine the way my entire future plays out. So... basically, it's kind of a big deal.”

“It sounds like it,” Pietr murmurs, his expression darkening a little as he thinks back to his initiation. Sinking deeper into his own thoughts, he lapses into silence.

>Anyway, I guess I just wanted to see you before I go and do my thing
>I'm curious about something. If you had the power to create it, what would your ideal world look like?
>Hey, you don't think that I need elocution lessons, do I?
>There's that festival coming up. Were you going?
>Let's talk... (Write in)
>Other

>>2020136
>>Hey, you don't think that I need elocution lessons, do I?

>>2020136
>Hey, you don't think that I need elocution lessons, do I?
>There's that festival coming up. Were you going?

Agh no heavy stuff

>>2020136
>Hey, you don't think that I need elocution lessons, do I?
>There's that festival coming up. Were you going?
How many days is the festival? I know on the first day we are fighting for our lives and on another we are spending with family, but if there is more we can pencil in some time with Pietr before we go off to fight the Source and fight for our lives again.
>Let's talk... (Write in)
"Do you want the full story about Oracle? As far as I am concerned she isn't some secret. That kind of thinking is what led to her messed up situation in the first place."

>>2020136
>>Anyway, I guess I just wanted to see you before my thing
>Hey, you don't think that I need elocutionlessons, do I?

File: Pietr.jpg (113 KB, 850x1269)

113 KB JPG

“Hey,” you ask suddenly, “You don't think that I need elocution lessons, do you?”

Pietr jolts back to reality, your unexpected question causing him to stare incredulously at you for a moment. “Huh?” he blurts out, “I... I don't even know what elocution lessons are. Is it something you do at school?”
“Nah, they're like...” you hesitate as you try and describe them, “They're like, uh, lessons for talking all fancy, like if you're giving a speech or whatever. You think I could use some of those?”

“Well,” he chuckles, “When you put it like that...”

“Jerk!” you laugh, giving his shoulder a gentle shove, “Anyway, I just asked because this friend of mine gave me a book on it. She gave it to me as a gift, even though it was one of her most cherished possessions. It got me wondering if I was really in such a dire need of some refinement.”

“Well, it can't be worse than having Karl keeping you to a vow of silence, can it?” Pietr points out, a grave expression settling over his face. “I don't really have anything like that,” he adds a moment later, thinking aloud to himself, “A cherished possession, I mean. All that I really have is...” Trailing off, he taps his upper arm instead of saying anything else. It's enough of an answer for you – just as you carry on Hikari's legacy, so too does he carry the sad remnants of his brother.

“Well, I guess it's no big deal,” you sigh, taking a sip of your own drink, “We all have our own ways of speaking. Say, I'm assuming that you've heard about that festival coming up at the weekend – were you thinking of going?”

“Maybe, if I can,” Pietr frowns, “If there's a last minute security alert, I might have to... do my own thing. If not, though, I'd like to take a stroll around. It's on for the whole weekend, isn't it?”

“Friday through Sunday,” you confirm, “I'm busy on Friday, and I'm spending one of the days with my family – probably Sunday, that's usually when my father can get time off work. Saturday though... I'll be making the most of it. If you're free, maybe we can walk about for a bit and take in some of the sights. I'm going to be wearing a yukata, you know!”

“Oh,” Pietr breathes, faint colour rising in his cheeks, “That's traditional, isn't it? I... yes, I think that would be nice, meeting up and seeing the sights.”

One sight in particular, you suspect. Hiding your smile behind one last sip of your drink, you set the cup down with a clink of porcelain. “Well, I should get moving,” you tell him, “But hey, before I go... do you want to know the full story about the Oracle? I don't think it should be secret, and you've got as much right to know as any other Sentinel.”

Pietr's eyes widen a little at the offer, and then he nods slowly.

[1/2]

>>2020136
>Anyway, I guess I just wanted to see you before I go and do my thing
>Hey, you don't think that I need elocution lessons, do I?
>There's that festival coming up. Were you going?

>>2020234

Keeping your voice low and furtive, you relate everything that you learned about the Oracle – about ZOE and Noriko. Pietr listens carefully, his eyes wide and fascinated by the story. Once you're finished, he takes a long moment to put his thoughts in order.

“Wow,” he murmurs, “So when I spoke to you on the phone...”

“I was right down there in the middle of it,” you agree, “And wow, things got pretty messy after that. Literally messy, I mean, I don't think I'll ever get those bloodstains out of that uniform. Well, whatever – I've got plenty more of those. So, uh, what do you make of it all?”

“I'm not quite sure what to say,” he admits, “But... I could have died, couldn't I? Back when we went into the Umbra together, that was ZOE trying to get you out of the way. I was just... collateral damage.” A shiver runs through him as he lingers on the possibility. “This might be a wicked thing to say,” he whispers, his voice hardening somewhat, “But I'm glad that ZOE was undone like that. She deserved everything that she got, for the way she treated us all. I won't feel sorry for her, not for a moment.”

“No,” you murmur, “I guess you won't.”

-

You talk for a while more after that, but that brief and ugly flash of anger lingers for far longer than it should, spoiling the good mood. All too soon, you find yourself making your excuses and heading home. There, you find Yui waiting for you – or perhaps just waiting in her usual way, like a vulture waiting for its prey to die. EVE sits nearby with her eyes locked to the television screen, images of industrial machinery playing out. Even when you call out a greeting, she doesn't do much more than nod.

“She loves that show,” Yui remarks, glancing briefly at the television, “I don't think I understand it. Nothing but factories and production lines, making various things. What is it today?”

[Power tools,] EVE answers without looking around, [Adjustable saws, to be precise. It was drills yesterday.]

“I don't understand it at all,” Yui sighs, “Oh yes, your father called. He said that he was able to get this Sunday off, and that we should all go to the festival together. Doesn't that sound nice? We went to a festival like this once, just the two of us. Of course, we were younger in those days...” A nostalgic smile, so different to her usual cool expression, drifts across her face as she thinks to herself. It's nice, seeing her look so carefree, and that just hardens your resolve.

You won't die. You won't put your parents through that, not after Hikari.

[2/3]

>>2020338

Friday.

Even this early, just after noon, the festival is already getting into full force. The streets around Kaneshiro Park are thick with security – both official government men and various corporate guards – but the crowds of revellers barely seem to notice the armed men in their midst. Even when drones buzz above them, cameras searching the crowds for anything that stands out, the cheerful mood doesn't so much as waver.

You've gathered a short way away, on a rooftop that overlooks the park, and you still feel like you're a part of the festivities. Countless smells drift through the air, while the sound of taiko drums reaches you. Emi seems to be enjoying the rhythmic sound, but for some reason it sends a thrill of dread running through you. It feels like an ill omen, although you couldn't say exactly why. Perhaps anything, even the most innocent music, would send a shudder running through you at a time like this.

“Let's get this show on the road,” you announce to nobody in particular, turning back to the clunky air conditioning unit. There's just enough of a reflection for it to serve your purposes, and so you reach out to touch it with the flat of your palm. The others gather around you as you concentrate on Zakuro, feeling the Umbra tremble in response to your calls. Closing your eyes tightly shut, you focus on strengthening that link.

For better or for worse, you feel yourself leaving this world and entering the Umbra. The abyss, hearing your calls, rises up to claim you.

>I think I'll pause things here for today. I'll continue this tomorrow, and if anyone has any questions I'll answer them if I can
>Thanks to everyone who contributed today!

>>2020398
Thanks for running!

Were any of the Heavenly Children who reached the source in the past also Dutiful Squires?

>>2020398
Thanks for running.

Maika is never getting her Spider tank is she?

>>2020398
Thanks for running!

How long until we return home only to find Nebiros' goons there?

>>2020398
Thanks for running! Can we take Eve into the Umbra and introduce her to Zakuro?

What happens when we take an AI there? Or a God? Let's find out!

Hell yeah. I hate having to wait another day, but I'm hyped for the oncoming battle with the Saint of the Abyss. I imagine it's going to be epic.

>>2020456
That's something I forgot about, actually. It would be possible to take EVE into the Umbra, yes, although it might not achieve a great deal. Interesting perhaps, but of dubious utility.

>>2020448
A long time, I hope. Miho's folks really don't have the means to entertain a lot of guests like that!

>>2020431
Never say never, but the outlook isn't good

>>2020413
It's not a common thing, for a Squire to inherit the role, but there has been one other case. I wonder what happened to her?

>>2020507
>It's not a common thing, for a Squire to inherit the role, but there has been one other case. I wonder what happened to her?


If she's the saint of the abyss I call hax.

>>2020515
These Duty girls really throw a wrench into things.

>>2020529
Kinda like the god who said "Fuck this shit, I ain't going back until the mess we made is clean." ?

>>2020539
Pretty much.

>>2020507
So is EVE fascinated by the creation of stuff and learning to how to make them? Is that due to her 'creative' inclination given to her by Monad?

>>2020616

That's correct, yes. All four AI units have their own inclinations that show themselves in various forms, and this is one way that EVE's has manifested. It's just like how the ambitious ZOE set her sights on world domination and the compassionate SAE is dedicated to caring for the autistic.

Although, this isn't something that EVE herself is fully aware of. It's more of an unconscious attraction to certain things than an active awareness of her "purpose".

>>2020724
>SAE is dedicated to caring for the autistic.
Was that a jab at Eligor and Maika?

>>2021033

Maybe.
Yes.

>>2020724
So we're just ignoring REI? Because limiting ZOE worked so well.

>>2021126
I mean, did it not? She hasn't raised any fuss since being limited.

>>2021126
To be fair the Saint and the Source probably take priority over checking on REI for Miho and the girls since this is all happening within the next few days. I don't think REI will go on a genocidal rampage within the week.

>>2021126

I have got a few idea of what to do with REI, but they might have to wait a little. I don't intend to leave the matter untouched, though, it's just a matter of pacing and my own dubious organisation.

>>2020398
Thanks for running.

Bit of a shame that Tyrants aren't dropping any more keys though, since those are basically the essence of fallen magical girls, I thought we could use them to make a weapon, just in case the Saint of the Abyss' weapon turns out to be Soul Edge or something.

File: Zakuro.jpg (713 KB, 1080x1080)

713 KB JPG

You're really glad that you didn't wear your good clothes today.

Even before you've opened your eyes, you can smell Zakuro's lair – the thick smell of blood and flesh coming as an awkward reminder of your most recent battle. It's bad enough that you hesitate to look, fearing that you'll find yourself back inside the bud of that that corpse flower. An absurd fear, perhaps, but one that you can't dismiss out of hand. It's only when you feel someone reaching across to shake your shoulder that you can bring yourself to look.

When you see the open expanse of Zakuro's mausoleum city, you feel more relieved than you ever thought possible. The six of you are all sitting around a delicately crafted table, with empty teacups placed before each seat.

The six of you - five magical girls, and one creature that's far harder to categorise. It was one of Zakuro's puppets who shook you back to reality, and now the doll looks at you with an impressively realistic imitation of concern. The others share a look of general discomfort, and you recall that this is only their second time here. They've not had the chance to get used to it, if any normal human being can really get used to a place like this.

“Hello Miho,” the puppet says to you, tilting her head softly to the side, “Hello everyone. Help yourself to tea, if you wish.” She points to a gently steaming teapot as she says this, either not noticing or pretending not to notice as Ayane recoils at the thought. “It's better this time,” the puppet adds, “I've been practising.”

An uncomfortable silence hangs over the group until Kasumi reaches across and pours herself a small cup, bravely taking a sip. “I don't recognise the blend,” she murmurs, “It's certainly not green tea, it's not any kind of herbal infusion that I can think of. It has a very distinct taste.”

“Oh yeah?” Emi asks suspiciously, “Of what?”

“Hmm,” Kasumi takes a second sip, “Rare steak.”

And so, the uncomfortable silence returns.

-

Rising from her seat, the puppet wordless leads you through the bleak city, following the thick tentacle that trails out from her back until you arrive at a clearing – Zakuro's great lake of mud. The Tyrant herself waits up ahead, her skirt of tentacles swaying gently around her lower body. You hear Emi muttering a curse as you approach, her revulsion plain to see, but she stops herself from saying anything aloud. She knows, as much as any of you do, that this something you need to do.

“Welcome, warriors of the old gods,” Zakuro rumbles, spreading her vast arms in a gesture of greeting, “Can you hear the abyss? How it boils and surges, rejoicing at the coming festivities?”

You listen hard, and... and you do here something. A murmur, perhaps, like countless excited whispers.

[1/2]

>>2023200

Then, you hear a hard crack like shattering glass, and two tiny shapes flicker into existence. Dwarfed by Zakuro's vast form, Kurosawa and Sakura look frail and powerless, yet they hold themselves firm and resolute. The sight of them seems to comfort your friends, as if confirming that this really is okay – that you're not committing some unforgivable sin by coming here. You nod to them, then approach the mismatched trio.

“The Saint of the Abyss has the power to destroy even the gods themselves,” you call out, “But that power could destroy the unclean source as well, could it not?”

“Correct, child,” Zakuro growls, thick ropes of saliva dripping through her inhuman jaws, “And you would claim this power for yourself.”

“Correct,” you echo, “So tell me how I can get it. What do I need to do?”

“The Saint of the Abyss bears a weapon – a sword,” the Tyrant rasps, “Take it from her, and plunge it into her heart. Only then will you have what you seek.” A low and terrible laugh rumbles out from her as Zakuro shudders, an inhuman excitement getting the better of her for a moment. “I cannot overstate the importance of that. The blade must find her heart,” Zakuro stresses, “And while she yet lives.”

“You don't make it easy, do you?” you sigh, “You're certain, absolutely certain, that this will work? That this can destroy the unclean source once and for all?”

“Yes,” Zakuro nods firmly. Behind you, you hear a chorus of sighs, gasps and victorious whispers as the others celebrate. Sakura perks up, practically glowing with satisfaction, and even Kurosawa seems pleased – he hides it well, but his tail swishes back and forth with suppressed excitement. “The way to her temple is now unlocked and unsealed,” the Tyrant continues, “I will be your guide, but you must heed my words. It would be all too easy for you to get lost here, set adrift in the abyss. Come, and we can-”

“Wait!” Kurosawa snapped, “There are matters that we must discuss, questions that need answered.”

“Yeah, maybe he's right,” Ayane mutters to you, carefully approaching and touching your arm, “We ought to be sure of this before we go any further, you know?”

>No, I'm ready now. I want to do this
>How exactly does the Saint's power work? How can she destroy the unclean source?
>If the Saint has existed for this long, why hasn't she done anything before now?
>I want to ask you something... (Write in)
>Other

>>2023203
>>How exactly does the Saint's power work? How can she destroy the unclean source?
>>If the Saint has existed for this long, why hasn't she done anything before now?
>>I want to ask you something... (Write in)
"The Source stopped everyone before me from finishing it off through what we think is fear and manipulation. Is that true and if so is there a way to shield myself from it's influence?"

>>2023203
Also
>Show Sentinel tablet picture

>>2023203
>Are you.....OKAY with us destroying the unclean source? Aren't you concerned that it might hurt you as well?
>What do you do for fun around here? It can't ALL be "studying the mysteries of the abyss". Have you like, made board games to play using your puppets?

>>2023203
>How exactly does the Saint's power work? How can she destroy the unclean source?
>If the Saint has existed for this long, why hasn't she done anything before now?

>>2023203
>How does this work? Am I sacrificing the Saint instead?
>If the Saint has lives so long, why hasn't she done anything? Did she just hole up in her chunk of the Umbra like a hikkomori?
>Does one use consume the weapon? Or after the Source, can I reuse it on Monad if necessary?

>>2023203
>I want to ask you something... (Write in)
> This weapon, what would happen if I did use it? What's the catch? There's probably more to it than just stabbing the Saint in the heart.

“Then ask your questions,” Zakuro rumbles, lowering herself down slightly so that her gaze is more level with yours. While her gesture was meant to comfort – to make her seem less of a looming terror – it seems to have the opposite effect on your companions, causing them to back off slightly.

“How exactly does the Saint's power work?” you ask, “I mean, how can she destroy the unclean source? Am I going to be sacrificing her instead of myself?”

“Perhaps it could be seen as such. Whatever she may be now, whatever perversions she has endured, the Saint of the Abyss remains a Heavenly Child,” Zakuro answers, reaching out to tap your chest with the tip of one finger, “Your double in every way.”

“Then there are two Heavenly Children currently in existence,” Kurosawa points out, “An impossibility – this simply cannot be correct.”

“And yes, it is,” the Tyrant counters, “She exists as a paradox, a flaw in reality as it has been written. That paradox is the source of her power – should she merge with the godhead, it would collapse completely. Yet, she remains a Heavenly Child, and she too could destroy the source... if she chose to do so. Take her weapon, bathed in her own soul, and carry it into the heart of the unclean source. There, destroy it of your own will.”

“A willing sacrifice of a Heavenly Child,” Kurosawa declares flatly, “A matter of technicalities, perhaps, but...”

“But it would work,” Sakura purrs, “How utterly mischievous!”

“So when I use the weapon on the source, on anything at all, I'll lose it,” you state, “I have to destroy it for it to work, and I only get one shot.”

“Correct,” Zakuro confirms, “Choose your target with great care, child.”

“I don't understand this at all,” Emi mutters to herself, shaking her head in dismay, “But like, I guess you guys sound like you know what you're doing, so...”

Frankly, you're not sure if you understand either, but you just focus on that last part – the fact that it'll work. That's enough for you. “I'm curious about her,” you think aloud, “The Saint – if she's been in existence for all these years, why hasn't she tried to do anything? You're not telling me that she's just hiding away, sulking in her corner of the abyss?”

“Is that so hard to believe?” the Tyrant gurgles, laughing curtly to herself, “Greater beings than her have turned away from the world. But no, the Saint is... mired in her own anger. Bitterness has a way of stagnating and turning inwards. She has been lost within her own mind for a great many years, even to the point where she has sealed herself off from the rest of the Umbra. That the way is now open suggests that she is stirring at last.”

“No way...” Ayane whispers to herself, the words slipping unconsciously from her lips, “That's not right, that's not... how it is.”

[1/?]

>>2023293
Oh, so that's how it works. Good thing I'm wrong then.

>>2023293

You glance around to Ayane, preparing to press her for an explanation, but then Sakura speaks up. “You make this all sound very simple, Zakuro,” the cat begins, “But I can't help but feel as though you're leaving something out.”

“Yeah, uh, I think she's right,” you agree, jerking back, “There's got to be more to this than just stabbing the Saint through the heart.”

“Simple? Perhaps you think that now,” Zakuro laughs again, “But the Saint will not make it easy for you. She will defend herself, fighting you every inch of the way, and mercy is a distant memory to one such as her.”

“Not so simple, then,” you sigh, “Fine then. The unclean source stopped everyone me from finishing it off through what we think to be fear and manipulation. Is that true? And if so, is there any way to protect myself from its influence?”

“Stop up your ears,” the Tyrant answers simply, “It will tell you much, whatever it believes will convince you to stay your hand. There is no magic at work, no curses or charms. Just a single drop of doubt can be enough to turn away even the most determined soul. If you seek protection... ignore whatever it says to you. That is all that I can offer you.”

“Ignore it. Right, I can do that. I'll just pretend that it's one of my teachers and...” forcing a smile, you nod firmly, “Well, never mind that. I was curious – are you really okay with us destroying the source? I mean, aren't you worried that it might harm you or your city in some way?”

“I owe no loyalties to the source,” shrugging her vast shoulders, Zakuro rises back up to her full height, “Its destruction would not trouble me. How the Umbra would react to such a thing, though... I am curious about that. I wish to see what happens, to study it and learn whatever can be learned – even if it should cast my city into disarray. The abyss holds deeper mysteries, I believe, but drastic measures must be used to uncover them. In that regard, then, I have no complaints.”

An incredulous laugh escapes you as you consider her answer. It's so... typically Zakuro. “All this “studying the mysteries of the abyss” stuff can't take up all your time, can it?” you ask, “I mean, you have to do some stuff for fun, right?”

“Fun...” Zakuro muses, “I often think back to my time as a human, focusing on the memories that I formed there. Perhaps the abyss has mysteries, but your world had wonders – treasures and beautiful things. I only saw a very few of them in my time, but I cherish the memories of them. That, perhaps, is my entertainment.”

“Treasures, huh?” you reply, taking out your phone and pulling up the photograph of that gilded tablet you saw, “What do you make of this? Uh... can you see this?”

Zakuro doesn't lean down to examine your phone, but she does extend a thin tendril towards you. The fleshy tip peels back to reveal a single unblinking eye, which studiously examines your phone.

[2/3]

>>2023352

“A fascinating thing,” Zakuro decides after a moment, “These carvings... a crude imitation of the divine language, perhaps as close as men can come to copying it down. Whoever created this object had received a great revelation, a sign or message from one of your gods.” The tentacle withdraws, vanishing back beneath Zakuro's fleshy skirt, and she gives you a slow nod. “A thing of great beauty, but I fear that there is little I can tell you about it,” she adds, “I thank you for showing this to me. It is as I said – your world has treasures and wonders.”

“Well, it's just a replica,” you point out, recalling what Beckett told you, “But still, it does look pretty nice.”

“Even a false object can possess beauty,” Zakuro insists, gesturing for you to follow her as she lumbers out onto the lake of mud. As she strides out onto its surface, three of her puppets – each one perfectly identical – slink out of the surrounding buildings. They each carry objects, although you can't see exactly what. Gesturing for the others to stick close, you follow Zakuro out onto the lake. “Stop,” Zakuro orders, when you reach the rough centre, “Remain there. The ritual must begin.”

“Ritual?” you mutter. The Tyrant doesn't answer that, simply remaining silent as her puppets surround you. One of them has a bowl – filled with some gritty, grey substance – while another has a delicate brush. The final puppet holds a knife, a long silver blade. The sight of that blade sends a ripple of dismay through the entire group – even Kurosawa looks alarmed – but you gesture for everyone to stay calm. “What is that?” you ask as one puppet dips her brush in the grey dust and approaches you, “Is that ash?”

“Do not be alarmed,” Zakuro murmurs, saying nothing else as the puppet begins to paint your face with the gritty dust. You frown a little, but resist the urge to step back out of the doll's reach. When your face is evenly covered, the puppet tips the last of the ash out over your head, dusting your hair with it. Then she steps back, letting the knife wielding puppet step forwards to take your hand. When the first puppet prepares her bowl, you realise what comes next.

You don't cry out as the blade parts flesh, spilling your blood into the little wooden bowl, but you have to bite down hard on your lip to keep that silence. As the puppets withdraw, you look down at your wounded palm and watch as the cut closes up once again. When you glance back up to Zakuro, you do so just in time to see her tipping the spilled blood down her throat, eagerly swallowing it down.

Before you can protest, you realise something – you're sinking, the mud beneath your feet slowly pulling you down as the rest of the world grows distant.

The ritual, you assume, was successful.

[3/4]

Alright, folks. Time to cue up the boss music.

I personally like this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wtgzUyng3F4

>>2023441

When you wake up you feel sand underneath you, sticking to your face and mingling with the ash still clinging there. Rolling onto your back, you stare up into the night sky for a moment, idly searching for any constellations you recognise. When you don't manage to find any, you shift your gaze to the side for a moment, and then you see it.

The black sun, blazing away without light or hear as it hangs in the darkened sky. Staring up into it, you realise with a terrible, instinctual certainty that it would never move, never rise or set. Left alone, it would simply hang in the sky for all eternity, burning away with a cold light that is not light. Shuddering at the thought, you sit up and look around for the others.

There is nobody else here, save for one of Zakuro's puppets waiting nearby. Wincing, you look past the puppet until you spot a building in the distance – a temple, with the carved stone columns giving it a distinctly Greek air. From within, you hear the pounding of drums and a muted chanting, although the words are too muffled for you to make any of them out. Just as you start to ask the puppet a question, you hear an animalistic bellowing echoing out from the temple.

As if she had been waiting for that signal, the puppet turns and slowly marches towards the temple. Biting back a curse, you leap to your feet and hurry after her. Even when you catch up, the puppet doesn't say a thing.

>The Saint is in there, right? Lead the way
>Where's everyone else, why aren't they here?
>This place... I think I've seen it in my dreams
>Other

>>2023465
>This place... I think I've seen it in my dreams. The Saint is in there, right?
>Where's everyone else, why aren't they here?
Looks like it's going to be a 1v1.

>>2023465
>Where's everyone else, why aren't they here?
>This place... I think I've seen it in my dreams

DREAD

>>2023465
>>Where's everyone else, why aren't they here?

>>2023465
>>Where's everyone else, why aren't they here?

>>2023469
Yep, seems like that's the way it's gotta be. No outside interference.

“Where's everyone else, why aren't they here with us?” you ask, your voice growing more insistent as a horrible idea occurs to you, “Was there a problem with the ritual? Are they-”

“The ritual worked perfectly,” Zakuro's puppet answers you, finally – but only briefly - breaking her silence.

“Then... what?” you gesture at the empty desert around you, “Were you just not planning on bringing them here?”

“Difficult enough, to guide one human through the abyss. Five? I would not wish to risk it,” the puppet shakes her head, “No, this is as it should be – one Heavenly Child against another, while I shall take the role of observer. We shall see whose champion prevails here – mankind's native gods, or the unclean source. Whoever wins here shall decide the shape of things to come. This is as it should be.”

“C'mon...” you groan, “This is bullshit!” Ignoring your protests, the puppet simply carries on walking through the desert towards the temple. Even now that you're closer, you still can't identify any of the words – not even the language that they're being spoken in. Pausing for a moment, you look back up the black sun burning above you and shudder. This whole scene feels so familiar, you realise, you've felt like this before. “I've seen this place before,” you announce, “In my dreams... my nightmares.”

“It would not surprise me,” the puppet answers from up ahead, “When they sleep, men sometimes brush up against the Umbra. They colour it with their thoughts, their memories and their fantasies. This moment, this possibility, must have echoed back to you. This moment, you see, has been a long time coming – and sometimes, events can turn back upon themselves like a river reversing its own flow.”

“Great,” shivering a little, you hurry to rejoin the puppet, “I wish I dreamed up how this ended, that might make things a little easier for me...”

But the puppet says nothing to that.

-

When you stand at the threshold of the temple, you hear another one of those bellowing cries. There's something tortured about it, like a beast subjected to cruel labours and crying out at the injustice of it all. Your resolve wavers a little, but then you force yourself to take a single step forwards – crossing over into the temple. Almost immediately, the darkness seems to reach out to claim you. The desert night was dark, but this is a whole other kind of darkness.

Waiting a moment for your eyes to adjust to the gloom, you see candles flickering dimly at your feet, marking out a staircase leading downwards.

“It's always down,” you murmur to yourself, “Always deeper down...”

[1/2]

>>2023530

The further down you go, the hotter it gets. More and more candles light your way, although their accumulated light and heat leaves you feeling dirty and tainted by sweat. When you finally arrive at the bottom of the stairs a long corridor, lined with columns and ending in a sealed door, awaits you. Lurking in the alcoves, you see piteous creatures – Thralls, lesser Intruders – swaying in place. Their bodies are formless, like inky jelly, and they wear brass helms shaped to resemble the head of a bull. They offer no resistance when you pass them by, as if they hadn't even noticed you.

Undisturbed by your presence, they continue chanting away in their inhuman language. Although you don't understand the words, you find your lips moving as you unconsciously join in with the chant. Hesitating for a moment, you allow yourself to speak aloud.

“I've given everything that I have to give,” you recite, letting someone else's words spill off your tongue, “My mentor is dead, my lover has abandoned me, and my name has been tarnished. I have become a pariah, cast out from any community that might once have welcomed me. I took up this sword to serve the gods, and they have cursed me with this terrible fate. They have taken everything from me, and now they demand that I offer up my life as well. I reject them, and I reject this fate!”

The chant pauses for a moment, and you pause with it. Zakuro's puppet watches you with mild interest, but no real surprise. “Those are her memories, aren't they?” you ask, taking control of your voice once again, “I guess... I guess I've been pretty lucky, huh? My folks didn't reject me when I told them about me, and I've not lost anyone close. It hasn't been easy, but... she had it a lot worse than I did.”

The puppet just tilts her head to the side. “The Saint walked a different path to the one that you have walked,” she answers simply, “Why should she have given her life for a world that spurned her?”

Frowning at that, you stop in front of the sealed door, slowly reaching out and touching it with a tentative hand. Even though your fingers only brush against its surface, the stone slabs begin to grind open and another of those animal roars shudders through the temple. When the door cracks open, a blast of awful heat washes out over you. Wincing against the hot wind, you peer through into the brightly lit chamber beyond. Fires burn there, while a vast idol – a brazen bull – stands in the centre of the blaze. The air around it shimmers with the heat, while the metal glows furiously.

“No way...” you breathe, “Is she...”

“Inside,” the puppet answers, nodding slightly, “Burning in the flames of her grudge.”

[2/3]

>>2023590
>“Burning in the flames of her grudge.”
Ah so that was literal. I should have guessed.

>>2023590

Tentatively, you take a step closer to the brazen bull. As soon as you enter the chamber, the flames that surround it begin to dim, soon fading and dying out. As the metal cools, you hear a hollow banging coming from within, a slow and rhythmic pounding sound as the Saint beats her fists against the idol. Before your disbelieving eyes, a crazy spiderweb of cracks spreads out across the surface as the Saint hammers at the walls of her prison.

With one final, terrible crash, the metal shell splits open and falls apart in two halves, with the Saint herself rising up out of the ruin.

The Saint is naked and hairless, although any trace of sensuality has long since burned away from her body. Her right arm ends in a tumorous mass that sprawls out and reaches down to the ground while the other is bound up by a parasite, a bloated centipede that winds its way around the limb. From her back sprouts a pair of metal wings, their rusting feathers throbbing in time to her heartbeat. Perhaps the worst part, though, is her face – simply because of how normal it is. No matter how blackened and mutilated her body has become, her face remains an image of plain and expressionless humanity.

That mask-like face doesn't change when she sees you, but the Saint lifts her deformed arm in a kind of mocking salute. Flesh sloughs off in thick clumps as she raises her arm, rotting and sliding off until what lay beneath is revealed. Beneath the flabby tumours, the Saint clutches onto a broken sword as if it was her beloved child.

Little more than a hilt and six inches of broken bronze... could THAT be the weapon that you came here to claim?

“You're her, aren't you?” you murmur, “The Saint of the Abyss.”

Slowly, as if she has to recall the sound of human words, the Saint nods. The centipede fused to her left arm shudders suddenly, and the Saint convulses along with it. When the fit is over, her eyes are left bright with a feverish madness – a killing madness, plain and simple.

>Fight (Write in)

>>2023659
Can you post our attacks again Moloch?

File: SK5.jpg (142 KB, 586x850)

142 KB JPG

>>2023664

>>2023659
>Fight (Write in)
Goad her into the first attack. If it's a melee attack True Reversal the strike and then Armor break those metal wings.

If it's ranged dodge and Shockwave at her, advance and Massive Strike.

>>2023659
Thunderclap to stun, then chase her down and follow up with a Spellbreaker.

I'm worried she knows our moves as a fellow Heavenly Child, but they don't look like sword moves. Perhaps the fact that we're part Dutiful Squire will throw her off, or maybe they're Dutiful Squire moves.

>>2023664
>>2023676
I'll back this up and add that in no case should we use Inferno Knuckles. They're not likely to work on her at all.

>>2023659
>>2023676

Top of my head, she's a close range fighter, and if that sword's as simple as it looks, then chances are she's got a style to compensate for it- expect very quick movements and feints, would be my guess. Don't forget the parasited arm, either- she's probably going to make use of that to try and ensnare us.

We don't have consistent range on her, so we're going to need to outbox her- dart in, pop her once, twice if it's a clear opening, weave out. Stick and move, keep circling around her, and don't give her a chance to set up shop, as it were. Make her have to react to us, even if we're just throwing a feint in to throw her off-balance. I don't like the idea of giving her first shot for scouting purposes- she looks like she could do a lot once she has a head full of steam, and to be frank, I don't like the idea of touching her for longer than a half-second.

>>2023698
Agreed, that's probably useless as shit here.

>>2023659
That centipede is probably important. Might want to tear it off if we get the chance.

Dimly, out of the corner of one eye, you see Zakuro's puppet withdrawing slightly as she retreats to a respectful distance. It seems that she's holding true to her earlier word – she is here to act as a guide and an observer, nothing more than that. It was only a passing glance aside, but even that almost proved fatal – as soon as your eyes leave her, the Saint lunges at you with her blade bared, held in a reverse grip to dig and gouge at your flesh.

Reacting before you've even noticed the blow, you bring your gauntlets up in a defensive stance, crossing them in front of your body and catching her blow. “True Reversal!” you grunt as the attack hammers down into your defences, blasting the Saint away with the reflected force of her own attack. Launched back away from you, she slams hard into the stone wall behind her and drops, already preparing for her next attack as she lands. Springing up from the ground, she flashes towards you with her blade bared.

“Shockwave!” you yell, bringing your palms together in a heavy clap as she sprints towards you. The wave of energy rips out, sending her stumbling, and you seize your chance. When she lurches past you, you pivot and drive your palm into her mutilated spine. Her wings fold back around her in anticipation of the attack, but that was exactly what you had expected – your attack was meant to shatter her armour.

That's exactly what it does, sending a wave of cracks running up her wings before they split apart and crumble. Sharp-edged feathers drop as her wings break, leaving her with little more than the bare skeleton of them. Before you can celebrate too much, she twists around and slashes through the air, nearly cutting your throat with a high swing. The Saint follows up with a frenzy of slashes and swipes, each one coming so soon after the last that all you can do is back off and focus on guarding against them. Although her attacks are ferocious, they barely have any reach to them. Leaping back, you-

The Saint thrusts out with her left arm, the loathsome centipede uncoiling from her and lashing out like a whip, seizing you by the arm. She yanks her arm back, dragging you back into her reach and stabbing forwards with her broken sword. This time, her blow scores across your arm and draws blood, sending a frightful numbness creeping through your limb. Crying out in pain, you shake off her whip and punch forwards. Your blow connects, hurling her back away from you. This time, she lands badly.

The first pass couldn't have lasted more than a few dozen seconds, but you both ended up bloodied – and you're no closer to getting the sword out of her hands.

>Fight (Write in)

>My net is being a bit shaky. I'll try and keep delays to a minimum, but no promises.

>>2023727
Ok, nevermind the Spellbreaker, looks like she doesn't use spells.

Hand of Giants is out, we need to kill her with her own sword.

Let's go back to our fundamentals. Next slash she makes, use a Flawless Block, then follow up with Massive Strike while she's off balance.

>>2023727
>Hand of Giants to break her arms and take away her sword.

>>2023727
Pursuit, as I suggested in >>2023700.

It's about as anticipated- she's a speedy one, and if she gets rolling, it's gonna be hard to stop her. Dart in, feint a right handed shot to the face- given her berserker style, she'll most likely do one of two things. Either raise an arm to block or slash out to counter the attack. If she raises to block, use your left hand to reach out, grab her, and slam her to the ground, then reach to her centipede arm and start TEARING.

If she swings, stop short, weave out of the way, Massive Strike TO THE PARASITE ARM while she's still getting her arm back in from the swing.

The goal here is to get that wannabe tether out of commission so we have range advantage, and gets rid of the possibility of that numbing poison. We do that early, we'll have a much easier time of things as this drags on.

>Going to close the vote here and focus on writing. I'll try and keep this quick.

>>2023744
>Hand of Giants is out, we need to kill her with her own sword.

There are more ways to use those guys other than crushing the life out of someone. We can use them as distractions or just general punches and smashes from range. Or to grab one of her arms.

>>2023727
Flawless Blocks with Massive Strike counters. Shockwave if she tries charging us if we have distance. Get that parasite arm out of the picture.

>>2023800
True, but considering the size of the hands, and how fast, flexible, and slippery she is, I don't think grabs will work. We could always just hit her, but Massive Strike would be far more effective.

Breathing hard, you take a risky split second to ready your next attack. The Saint watches you with that same lack of expression, then springs into motion. She seems like she can move from utter stillness to lightning speed in the blink of an eye, almost too fast for you to realise what's happening.

As she bolts towards you, you summon up a phantom hand to grab her and hold her fast. The fist closes around her for a moment, but it causes you to cry out in pain. It's like grabbing hold of a hot coal, one plucked straight from the fire, and you can barely hold onto her for a few seconds before your focus is ruined and the fist dissipates. Even so, your attack spoiled her momentum and when she drops back down to the ground, she takes a moment to gather her wits. Before she can launch her counter, you press the attack.

Your first punch is a feint, a short jab at her face, and she sways to the side accordingly. As she does, though, you twist around to her left and strike, taking advantage of her lapse in defence. “Massive Strike!” you yell as your blow catches her on the shoulder. Flesh tears and bone shatters as your blow strikes home, but the Saint refuses to cry out. What does scream, though, is the centipede clinging to her arm. It lets out a shrill screech as the Saint stumbles forwards, her hand hanging loose, and then it rips itself free. As if the parasite had been the only thing holding her together, the Saint's damaged arm tumbles free from her body.

Still squealing, the centipede skitters away towards the temple entrance. Turning quickly, you lunge forwards and bring your foot slamming down on the centipede, chitin crunching wetly beneath your foot. Jerking back around, you raise your guard to protect against the attack you expected to see, but no attack comes. The Saint, one arm pressed to the ragged stump of her shoulder, is backing away from you. Even with that horrific wound, she still holds her broken sword close.

Yelling, you charge at her and slam her back against the wall, seizing her remaining wrist in one hand and slamming it again and again into the wall. “Drop it!” you spit, each word accompanying a brutal blow, “Just... drop... the...”

Something snaps, and the Saint goes limp. Her head lolls to the side, hanging off the end of her broken neck, and you feel a sudden horror creep through you. When you let her go, she slides motionless to the ground.

“Oh shit,” you breathe, taking a step back and turning around, “Zakuro, uh... what happens if I kill her before stabbing her with her sword?”

“It cannot happen,” Zakuro answers you flatly, “She cannot die.”

Your reply is cut off as a lance of burning pain tears through you from behind. Looking down, you see blood rushing out and the very tip of the Saint's blade emerging from your gut.

[1/3]

>>2024047

You can't move. You can't even speak – when you try, all you can manage is a few weak splutters. Dropping to your knees, you feel another wave of lacerating pain as the Saint twists her sword before ripping it free. The world grows hazy as you slump lower, barely holding yourself upright as the Saint circles you. Her head still hangs from a broken neck, but that doesn't seem to bother her at all. Studying you for a brief moment, she turns and walks away. Zakuro makes no attempt to move, to help you. Even when the Saint pauses at her side, Zakuro doesn't react.

Almost as an afterthought, the Saint turns and drives her broken blade into the puppet's stomach. Ripping it down and out, she cuts the puppet almost completely in half and leaves the body to crumple down in a lifeless heap. Leaving her there, the Saint turns and marches away, vanishing up the stairs as your eyes flutter closed.

Marching out to freedom, and a world unprepared to face her.

It's all over.

-

No.

Ripping your eyes open, you feel a cry of wordless defiance ripping its way out of you. Beads of blood fly out of your mouth as you gasp, but the sight just brings a desperate surge of strength flooding back into your limbs. Forcing yourself to your feet, you take a single tentative step forwards. When your legs don't buckle underneath you, you take another step and then another. First lurching forwards and then breaking into a stumbling run, you chase after the Saint.

She's halfway up the stairs when you catch up with her, your wild tackle knocking her from her feet and bringing you both down into a mad tumble. Each step you hit on your way down sends fresh stabs of pain through your entire body, but soon you hit the bottom. Metal clatters as the Saint finally loses her grip on her sword, causing it to skitter away down the corridor. Spitting blood, you dive away from the mutilated creature and lunge for it, with the Saint herself pouncing after you. The hilt feels hot in your hand as you close your grip around it, grabbing it as the Saint lands on your back.

The sudden impact almost causes you to drop the blade as well, but desperation lends you strength. Thrashing her one-handed grip off you, you roll over and straddle the Saint, her broken neck flopping back with the sudden motion. Just before you drive the broken blade home, you look into her face – even now, it's as blank and stoic as a mask. Even when you plunge the sword down into her heart, that blankness taunts you.

What was supposed to be a curse ends up as a ragged gasp as you slump down next to the Saint. “Go ahead,” you rasp, glancing at the corpse, “Your move.”

[2/3]

>Sorry for the delay. I had a total blackout, but things seem okay now.

>>2024053

When you feel something shaking you awake, you almost expect to see the Saint facing you, spitefully rousing you so that you can watch her kill you. Instead, you open your eyes to find yourself face to face with Zakuro's puppet. Her face is flecked with blood, but otherwise she seems fine. At least, she seems fine until you look down at her ravished torso, still with a few ropes of organ hanging limply out.

“I am a doll,” she reminds you, “These injuries are meaningless to me.”

“Lucky you,” you grunt, touching a hand to your side – your injuries are still fresh and raw, although you can feel your guts knitting themselves back together. “The Saint?” you ask, “What...”

“See for yourself,” Zakuro replies, pointing to a nearby spot. You follow her finger, but the Saint is nowhere to be seen. Where her body once lay, now you see a sword buried in the ground. Tentatively reaching over, you pull it from the cracked stone. No longer the broken wreck that the Saint had wielded, the blade has returned to its former glory – a full length blade of burnished bronze, and a crossbar decorated with a triumphant sunburst. Holding it in your hands, you feel a dizzying sense of familiarity.

Then you turn the blade over, and you see the spreading corruption that clings to the weapon – blackening it, and leaving it tarnished.

“The Sword of the Black Sun,” Zakuro's puppet intones, “A terrible thing, indeed.”

>Actually, I think I'm just going to close things here. I feel kinda tilted and I don't want to trust my net too much. So, I'll continue this next weekend, but stay tuned for our regularly scheduled bonus episode.
>Sorry about this. Not entirely as planned

File: Fleur LaCroix.jpg (658 KB, 1080x1080)

658 KB JPG

Los Angeles, America
Present Day, Present Time

If they could have seen her now, neither Megumi nor Noriko would have recognised Fleur LaCroix at first glance. As she was now, the young woman was so different to the excitable young girl that they had known that a comparison would hardly seem appropriate. Yet, she was the same person who had once fought alongside them against the Intruders, although recent times had turned her hand to a more mundane lifestyle.

Fleur LaCroix was working – stacking shelves, to be precise.

It wasn't much of a job, working long hours for minimum wage, but that hardly bothered her. She didn't mind the long hours – in fact, she had little else to do with her time – and she didn't mind the low pay – she already had money, more money than she knew what to do with, from her family. The worst thing about the job, in fact, was the dorky uniform that she had to wear for it. It was an acceptable sacrifice to make – a job provided structure, an orderly framework to build her life around, and a lame uniform was just part of that.

So, putting all thoughts of her rough and itchy clothes out of her mind – as best as she could, at least – Fleur returned to work. It was then when she felt something change, as if the air pressure had suddenly dropped slightly. She KNEW that feeling, it was...

“Noriko Inoue has been found,” a familiar voice announced from behind her, “Alive.”

Fleur let out a little scream, dropping the can of soup that she had been carrying as she spun around. “Abe, don't scare me like that!” she wailed, waving a hand at the black cat that had appeared behind her, “And... ack, I can't talk here, everyone will think I'm crazy!”

“You do not need to speak aloud,” he reminded her, “Think your answers to me, and I will be able to-”

“Aw, c'mon, you know I'm no good with keeping quiet,” Fleur groaned, picking up the can and moving to dump it on the closest shelf before freezing. “Wait a...” she murmured, slowly turning around, “Did you just say that Noriko is-”

“Croix! I can hear you back there!” a curt voice bellowed out from somewhere deeper within the store, “I've told you before, stop making personal calls while you're on shift!”

“Gah!” Fleur flinched, before a scowl passed across her face, “I've told you, it's “LaCroix”, not... ugh. Yes boss, sorry boss!” Shaking her head in dismay, she turned back to Kurosawa. “Bother me later,” she hissed, “But... Does Meg know?”

“She knows,” Kurosawa informed her, a grave note in his voice, “They have met, face to face. The outcome was... as good as could be expected, perhaps.”

“Yesss!” the girl whispered, pumping her fist in a gesture of unabashed glee, “You'd better give me ALL the deets later, okay?”

“I shall leave nothing out,” he agreed, with a stuffy formality.

[1/2]

>>2024112

“So like, I'm glad you told me and all,” Fleur decided later, after her shift had ended and Kurosawa had given her – as promised – all of the details, “But... why tell me? It's been years since I saw you, then you appear out of the blue and tell me all this?”

“I had presumed that you did not want to speak to me, and I had no reason to contact you. Our business, I had thought, was concluded,” Kurosawa offered, “But recent events have made me think. I have been... remiss in my duties. I have not cared for you all as much as I should have done.” The cat watched, motionless, as Fleur paced through her small apartment, throwing her creased uniform onto a pile. “Perhaps it is too late to change what has happened, but I thought it best to try. To... rebuild some bridges,” he paused awkwardly, “How have you... been?”

“Hanging on in there, y'know?” the girl replied with a cheerful smile – a smile that faltered and quickly dropped away. “I told my folks about all this,” she added, “They, uh, they didn't really believe me. Actually, they... send me to hospital for like a year. It got so that I didn't believe me either.”

“I see,” Kurosawa replied, cautiously offering nothing else. His silence didn't seem to bother Fleur, who quickly changed the subject.

“It was a nice one. The hospital, I mean. Totally expensive, but...” Fleur shrugged, “But that's all over now! Ark City, huh? Hard to believe that Meg and Noriko are just, like, a plane ride away...”

“Do you intend on meeting them?” he asked quietly, watching as Fleur pulled on a baggy shirt. She seemed to give the idea serious consideration, but then...

“Nah,” she decided at long last, “I'm done with all that stuff. Just tell them... just give them my regards, yeah? Those other girls, give them my best and all – I'll be wishing them luck!”

“I shall do just that,” Kurosawa nodded gravely, “Goodbye, Fleur. We may not speak again.”

“Peace out,” Fleur murmured, shivering a little as Kurosawa vanished and the air changed once again. Alone once more, she wandered through the cluttered apartment for a while before sitting at the end of her bed. A tall mirror stood in one corner of the room, with a heavy drape covering it. Fleur pulled the cloth away, leaving it lying on the floor as she gazed into her reflection and focused. She could feel her old power, dusty and nestled deep within her.

When her costume – the foppish stage magician's costume and oversized top hat – took form around her, she found herself laughing aloud. “Still got it!” she chirped, winking gaily at the mirror.

>That concludes today's bonus episode. Tune in next week for another episode of Heavenly Child Quest!
>Thanks to everyone who contributed today!

>>2024115
Awww. She cute.

>>2024115
Thanks for running Moloch.

Sorry about the internet.

>>2024115
Thanks for running!

No MG Operatives this week I see.

I like it!

>>2024053
Damn, that was brutal.

>>2024115
Damn, that was cute!

So, how long until unknown forces kill all the secondary magical girls to drive home the gravity of the situation?

>>2024184

I don't think I could bring myself to do that, I'm not that cruel!

>>2024142

I've been trying to draw the various subplots to a close, so we have have seen the last of our mercenary friends
In their timeline, at least