[Quest] Lost Singularity - Fimbulwinter

[SpoonyViking]

1

[Bird of Hermes]

1

[Spartacus]

1

[Draconic]

7

- - - Updated - - -

That we can get info on Javier isn’t the point. The point is that totally not EXTRA!Rin Ereshkigal isn’t asking Maria what information she needs; she’s asking us what is most important to her.

We need Javier to be important to her because that will make her more likely to be capable of touching him without Saver giving her nerve damage.

More to the point, Ereshkigal already said that she doesn’t want to say anything that Saver wouldn’t want her to say, and she will most likely avoid the question, just damaging Maria’s relationship with Saver just to get a non-clue about her identity.

- - - Updated - - -

Taking 1 is far too big a gamble for far too paltry a reward.

[Daneel Rush]

Atkinson Promenade
Day 03
Afternoon Phase – 12-B
Severe Cold (-20 °C/-4 °F)

Character Status

Health: Stable
Sustenance: Good
Warmth: Good
Stamina: Stable
Regression Level 2

(BGM)

We make it back to the promenade, or at least what is left of it after the Nazis had their way with it. The cultural and historical patrimony of Valparaíso has been mostly razed, reduced to rubble and dust. Even if they end this singularity-or-whatchamacallit, these buildings will not be magically restored, right? There’s no way magic could be that convenient.

It is not the first time we set foot on this place, and Saver ahead of me does look at it with bored eyes, clearly uninterested in the remnants of 19^th-century architecture.

“It’s getting colder, fast,” she utters. She is probably right. In this open space, it is easier to feel the chill carried by the ocean winds.

I also can’t help but notice that Hotel Brighton at the corner still stands. Now that there is sheer luck; you’d expect it to be the first to drop.

“I really don’t get this singularity thing,” she continues. She is not really talking to me. “It’s too…quirky to be just another ‘playground’.”

She frowns.

“…quirky. Modern humans, even the words you use sound weak.”

Then, just as quickly, she cackles, and the sound just seems wrong coming out of Maria’s body. She abruptly turns towards me, and despite the several steps of distance between us, instinct urges me to take a step back, as if fearing her simple act of turning will mow me down.

“But then again, that’s why greedy fools like you reach for the blessings of the gods!” Her smirk is half-amused, half-mocking. With her hands firmly planted on her hips, she feels mighty where Maria would look bratty.

“Yeah, I guess the divine spirits that once ruled over these lands must be mighty pissed ‘bout this whole singularity business. No wonder they agreed to hand you a piece of themselves.”

That’s…not what happened. I did not ask for this power—although I probably would have if I had the chance, to be honest. If The Maid’s words are true—and of course they are--, I was born like this, and it was the realization of the singularity that “turned on” the divine element. Whatever that means.

“Well, there’s also this remote austral land. Feels like the Age of Gods took its sweet time to fade away around here. The local spirits, stuck-up weaklings clinging to the past, they definitely still keep a close eye on these lands.”

The smile on her face does not dissipate even as she harrumphs.

“Meh, I guess I don’ get to look down on anyone for being overly attached…”

There is something right there, in those words and that expression. It is not quite nostalgia, or rather it carries an undertone of something else…and it’s gone, as she laughs all too heartily for this frozen hell.

“Still, it’s annoying! And it stinks! The divine, clinging to this land like a starving leech! Fuck, I’ll crush you all!”

From anybody else it would seem an outburst of empty bravado, or merely petty, childish complaints.

“Why do you hate the gods?” I find myself asking. Eyes all too human fixate upon me with an inhuman glint.

“You tell me, human. Do you hate your parents?”

I inevitably frown. I mean, I know I’m an ungrateful son; I haven’t really kept much in touch with them since I left to make my own life, but I…

“…I…wouldn’t say I hate them. I don’t think of them as much as I guess I should, but I don’t hate them.”

Saver’s smirk grows just a bit as she nods.

“Right. All humans are not born equal, but on average all humans are equal in capability. There’s no reason for a child to look down on his parents, even as he surpasses them.”

I’ve come to notice: Saver’s body language is tempestuous, her expressions changing in the blink on an eye. The glint in her eye is gone, the smirk abruptly undone.

“I was created by a god, at the behest of all the other gods, yet mightier than all of them. I was made to deal with a problem they could not handle themselves, and then thrown away.”

Her lips spread again as she speaks, but it is no smile that takes shape on Maria’s lovely face. A wide snarl, revealing pearly teeth, lips twitching and eyes gleaming with dark emotion.

“I am a disposable tool, made by a weakling for the sake of other weaklings, and I loathe it.”

No, I am in the wrong. She is not precisely angry; perhaps not even she understands her own emotions. That look on her face, that tone of her voice, could it be…that it’s not hating the gods in itself, rather, looking down on the gods is a point of pride to her?

And she’s smiling again. It’s uncanny, and triggers a shudder down my spine.

“Why do you ask, human?” Now she is just teasing me. “Do you fear for your life? That I will put you down for daring to seek the power of gods?”

It’s a pointless threat; she does not even give me the time to feel afraid before she laughs mockingly and dismissively.

“Meh, you overestimate your own importance. I couldn’t care less how some human wants to waste away his life.”

Cat-like. That’s the word I’d use to describe her smirk.

“Besides, it is the Human Order that rejected the ancient gods. If you take that insolence of yours a step too far and sacrifice your humanity to those godlings of yours, it will be humans who put you down, not me.”

“That won’t happen,” I say perhaps too quickly. I can’t let her demeaning, belittling words get the best of me; I can’t make the mistake of irritating this…Servant—thinking of Saver as a “woman” would be wrong.

However, this is a matter of simple human dignity.

“I won’t lose to this. Whatever it is, I just have to tame it. I’ll control this divine core, as a human.”

I expect nothing out of this. This creature will not be moved by my determination. So, when she laughs, it means nothing. Her hearty, brashly loud, thoroughly mocking laughter does nothing for me.

“Really! So you claim you will become the equal to the King of Heroes and the Ornament of Heaven? That is quite something!”

She laughs and laughs without end. If anything, what stops her are her own tears, for she is seemingly surprised by them. Wiping the liquid off her eyes, she gazes at it like it is the utmost oddity.

“Wait, so humans shed tears when they are amused as well? That’s so weird!”

Yet the weirdness also amuses her, so she ends up laughing and crying even more. I can only feel pride for not being brash; it would be easy to lose oneself to anger around this so-called Saver.

“Haaa…good! Very good! I like you, human!”

Wait, what?

“That’s right! That’s how it’s gotta be! If you are worthless and weak, then be bold! Be rash, be desperate and burn your life away!”

When she spreads her arms wide to the side, she seems bigger than she is. Maria is shorter than me, but I feel like I should be looking up.

“If you do nothing but moan, whimper and grovel, it only makes the strong want to crush you even more! So struggle with what little power you have, even if you can only nip at the heels of the strong!”

My body briefly stumbles when she plants a firm fist on the very center of my chest. For once, her smile is just that.

“You will break down and die as the weakling you are. But it will not be pointless.”

She then nods to herself, as if wordlessly congratulating herself for her “pep talk”.

“Hmm, hmm. Yes, very good. I like you, human. That’s what my vessel doesn’t get, you see. She pretends to be a simple person, but in truth she cares way too much about too many worthless things.”

For some reason it bothers me that it is this Servant of all people who releases those words to the word. It feels unfair to Maria somehow.

“I wield the Authority of ‘Disorder’, so that attitude of hers…what’s the expression she uses…doesn’t fly, ya know? She only needs to abandon herself to the dance of chaos, and the entire world will surrender at her feet.”

She raps my chest with her knuckles.

“But you, human, you get it. You’re weak, you can’t afford to worry about all that crap. Be selfish, and go all out! Yes, yes, good to see there are proper humans like you!”

This person’s approval doesn’t make me happy at all.

“You have my approval. Sire good progeny with my vessel.”

“Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait—no.”

Never have I buried my face in my palm so quickly in my life.

“No, no, just…no.”

“Hmm?” She tilts her head, honestly confused for a moment. “Oh, you mean my vessel is not your mate? Ah, my bad,” she says, not sounding sorry in the slightest. “So it is another of the females, then.”

No, no, why are you starting from the assumption that I have a “mate”?

“I know the weak one in the ice belongs to the weak man with the glass phalli that emit heat.”

Mr. and Mrs. Drake, I’m terribly sorry.

“Is it the one named Sakura? Yes, yes, that one’s strong. Within human levels, I mean. I can see how she could produce strong offspring.”

Oh my God, this is really happening.

“She’d have been a better vessel, yes, but she was not a possibility, and the best possible vessel was already taken.”

I can’t stop feeling sorry for Maria when the Servant gropes all over her body unabashedly.

“Well, I guess I can’t be…picky? Fuck, another horrible word.”

With that said, she turns away from me, hands behind her head as she walks towards the end of the promenade and Hotel Brighton.

“Well, whatever. You don’t have to worry, human. I’ll solve this singularity thing so you can safely fulfill your purpose and perpetuate your pathetic species.”

Don’t expect my gratitude for that.

“Come ‘ere.”

Not seeing a reason to refuse her, I follow Saver into the hotel’s ample front porch with its signature checkered tiles. I am still wondering why Saver’s suddenly interested in checking out the hotel’s interior when I find myself devoid of air in my lungs.

“Gah!”

With my back still sore after being pushed against the wall next to the front door, all attempts at speech are further blocked by Saver (in Maria’s body) pushing her body against mine, her breath hot on my ear.

Oh, this is just not right.

“Saver, wha—!”

“Stop squirming, human,” demands the Servant in a whisper, at the same time she uses her own body and superhuman strength to pin me against the wall.

“I like you, so I’ll tell you this: we’ve been followed this whole time.”

Had I been able to put up any resistance, it would have stopped at this point. My heartbeat accelerates, completely unrelated to the beautiful woman pressed against me—I’ll defend this truth to the grave if I have to.

“I-I didn’t notice—”

“Of course you didn’t,” whispers the Servant with her all-too-usual condescension. “She is using some sort of ability, but she can’t hide divinity from me. The scent of wet grass, and rushing water…moon goddess, maybe?”

“Scent…?”

Saver just snorts.

“She a friend of yours? She’s kinda like you, but also kinda different.”

Like me…? What does she—

“What do you mean by that?”

“Like I know; you think I care about whatever magic tricks humans use to get divine power? I’m just letting you know as a favor; some skulking human woman is none of my business. Do whatever you want with her: kill her, mate with her, for all I care.”

Does this Servant think the whole spectrum of human activity is reduced to killing and fucking?

“Now!” She suddenly exclaims, albeit thankfully after she pulls herself away from me. “What’re we gonna do ‘bout Rider?”

Wait, are we going to keep talking like this with somebody spying on—oh, this person doesn’t give a shit about that, does she?

“What about Rider?” I smack myself mentally the moment the question leaves my lips. I fucking forgot about this; I can’t believe this.

“Well, he’s gonna make his big move tonight. That’s what that corpse-smelling Assassin said to my vessel.”

Right. We still have that to look forward to later. Will this day ever end?

“My vessel doesn’t have a high opinion of these ‘Nachis’ or whatever they’re called, and it’s not like I’m expecting much myself, but a Servant’s a Servant in the end. Not something to take lightly.”

You are the first and foremost proof of that, Saver.

The demon (?) in Maria’s body puts further distance from me. All around us, the natural light from beyond the canopy of grey clouds becomes dimmer and dimmer as evening nears. More and more of the illumination is taken over by the eerie blue aurora enveloping the frozen city like a ghostly mantle.

“Anyway, my vessels seems to pay heed to your opinions for whatever reason, and I’m not much into the whole thinking thing, either.”

That’s a horrible thing to say about yourself.

“So I’ll leave it for you to decide.”

Something has changed.

I was almost fooled for a moment. I almost got too confident the longer this conversation extended. I almost convinced myself I could “manage” this Servant. That we could “get along” and have a civilized association.

The truth is right there: in the provocative curve of her lips; in the ominous gleam of her eyes under the light of the aurora.

“I can bring my vessel back, and leave her to deal with Rider…” she begins in a light, dismissive tone…

“…or you can ask me to stick around and let me handle it.”

There it is.

“What will happen if I let you handle it?”

Perfect rows of teeth reveals themselves, her dark smile the allure of a succubus.

“…I will give you victory.”

This fucking bitch, she knows that’s not what I’m asking, but that’s the answer she’s gonna give me.

“What will happen to Maria?” I specific, my voice carrying firm insistence, but the Servant merely chuckles and turns away from me with a twirl.

“Eyes on the goal, human, eyes on the goal!” says the laughing demon dancing on the ruins of Atkinson Promenade.

Critical Choice

What Saver said.

1. Let Maria take on Rider.
2. Ask Saver to crush Rider. (Quest Master’s Kind and Helpful Hint: This choice makes victory against Rider all but GUARANTEED.)

What to do about the person spying on Javier and Saver?

1. Call out to her, demanding her to show herself.
2. Ask Saver to find her and force her to come out.
3. Do nothing. I’ve already got enough shit on my table.
4. Write-in.

*** ***

Depths of the Abzu

Please teach me how to deal with Saver.

After venting freely and wholeheartedly for just long enough, Maria wipes her face and makes this request of the goddess. In response, the swirling white radiance dims all around her.

“A part of me…wished you would not ask for that.”

The voice strikes deep in Maria’s heart, for it feels almost blasphemous to make this thoughtful goddess feel sad.

As the light coalesces back into a vaguely humanoid shape, the goddess asks Maria to follow her. The two “leap” off the ziggurat’s very top, sinking some three meters before touching solid ground again. Maria idly glances at the L-shaped staircases to her left and right, connecting the intimidatingly long stairs leading to the base of the ziggurat—which Maria cannot even see in the darkness of the sea—to the top level she just left behind.

“Over here.”

Maria turns away from the great staircase. The divine manifestation floats next to stone double doors. Whatever once might have been engraved on their surface has long been rendered unrecognizable.

“As I said, your Saver was likely originally intended to manifest in her original form. However, this was not possible, and she was forced to manifest as a Servant, using your body as a vessel.”

Maria Westinghouse would not call herself the sharpest tool in any shed, but when it comes to the issues that matter to her, she pays close attention, and catches on quickly.

You mean, the original is still here.

“Indeed. She is enshrined just beyond this door.”

A moment later, the luminous presence floats behind Maria, her warmth projecting loving comfort and inner strength.

“I do not know how you can reach that girl, nor how to create a connection with her. You must face her yourself, and judge her yourself. As a human, that is your prerogative. Whether you can entrust her with your body; whether she can entrust you with her power: those are things only you two can decide.”

Maria gulps.

…I’m scared.

“Good. I, too, fear her. Fear will keep you centered.”

Will you come with me?

“I cannot. Among us gods, only Lord

Ea

Enki

can pass through those doors.”

I don’t wanna die.

“She longs to fight, even if it is a lesser embodiment made into a Servant. And she cannot use a lifeless body as a vessel.”

Maria knows she is delaying. She also knows she cannot linger forever. Servant Saver might have turned out a bit more than she—or rather, anyone—can chew, but she is already in the lion pit, so there’s only one way out. She is already past whining and crying, so there is nothing left but to step forward.

“That bracelet…it is fundamentally important to you. Otherwise it could not exist in here.”

Maria is confused just for a moment. She then looks down. While she is clad in the garments of Servant Saver—she has never been particularly bothered by the skimpiness, Javier’s comments aside—, the delicate bracelet made out of knotted human hair—her grandmother’s hair—remains bound around her right wrist. She had not even noticed, and now she is glad she did…wait.

Did…did the goddess bring it up on purpose?

Shaking her head before she gets teary-eyed again, she bids farewell to her mythological counselor with a smile.

Thank you. And sorry. For, ya know, all the embarrassing stuff.

“You are welcome. Now, go with my prayers.”

Nodding, perhaps more to herself than to the goddess, Maria walks to the door, only to gasp the moment her hand touches the door, an invisible force pulling her by her navel and through the stone, into complete darkness.

(BGM STOP)

She sees nothing, and all sound has also ceased. She is barely aware of herself, and solely through her weight on the solid floor. She is no longer immersed in primordial water.

Maria is not alone, and she has learned what it feels like, being locked in a cage with a wild animal. No, how could that even compare? There is no glimpse of the world in or out of this cage, and it is no beast locked in here, but the mightiest demon lord.

So the vessel is here.

Maria is not entirely sure why she expected to hear her own voice. It is not; this voice is something she will never be.

Absolute.

Maria can think of no better word. The owner of this voice is absolute; her word is fact, all who oppose her will be unmade.

That damned Ereshkigal…should learn to stay out of matters not her concern…

Those words are said, but there is not real anger or even irritation in there. It is the voice of one who knew exactly what would happen and is just complaining for the hell of it.

Leave from whence you came from. I will not slay you, but I have no wish nor need to indulge you.

That is a lie, Maria retorts to herself. She has a copy of this being inside her, and her words with the goddess—Ereshkigal—all but confirmed it.

Saver—or rather, the being that was summoned as Servant Saver—is eager to come out and play, if not outright desperate. Saver is overwhelmed by boredom after millennia of sorely existing in this unfathomably dark “shrine”. Besides, Maria has come to this place to understand Saver; she might fear for her eternal soul, but she sure as hell is not leaving empty-handed.

“Dunno, I think we could have a nice talk, stave off some boredom—”

BEGONE!

(BGM)

Spoiler:

Maria gasps in pain that feels almost too physical; the simultaneous sensation of needles in every single inch of her body, mixed with acid being poured inside her skull at the same time she goes through a heart attack. It’s too much to even scream.

It is fear. It is terror to such a degree that it scrambles the mind and generates all sorts of agonic sensations. She is not actually there in body, yet she drops on her knees and heaves so as to empty her stomach, yet her body’s convulsions devolve into a seizure.

This is the diametrical opposite of Ereshkigal’s warm, welcoming radiance. This is absolute conceptual purity made manifest, such that it rejects all other things.

This is the true expression of divinity.

This is melam.

What the hell was that pathetic light show she was so proud of just yesterday when fighting Lancer? This, this is the original form. The being enshrined in this darkness is to Servant Saver what Servant Saver is to one of Assassin’s walking dead.

This thing? The World intended to release this thing?

What the fuck is going in Valparaíso to deserve this thing!?

I will not repeat myself. I will not entertain some insignificant human. BEGONE.

Maria Westinghouse claws the cold stone beneath her. She knows what expects her upon returning to the frozen city: battles, challenges; all sorts of terrible, fearsome things.

I was already afraid before this. I was already trapped before I was pulled in here…!?!?!?!?

That’s right. That, right there, is the point.

Gritting her teeth through pain in every inch of her soul-body, Maria struggles back to her feet. Her blurry sight centers on the bracelet—and her grandmother’s strength sealed in there. An insignificant droplet in the ocean that is this absolute being’s divine might, yet it still brings comfort and courage to Maria’s heart.

The golden melam flares acutely, and her upper body leans backwards as if physically struck, knees threatening to give in a second time.

She wants to give up.

Her soul begs for mercy and relief. She just wants to drop in some dark corner and sleep for a week, for starters.

Engulfed in agony, trapped between what she wishes to do and what she feels she must do, Maria Westinghouse…

Critical Choice

…does the following…

1. Powers forward through the divine radiance.
2. Stands her ground.
3. Retreats until it doesn’t hurt anymore.

…while, at the top of her lungs, she shouts…

1. “How the fuck are you a savior of mankind!?”
2. “YOU BEGONE, THOT.”
3. “Alright, I’m sorry, sheesh!”
4. Write-in.

Use Grandma’s Bracelet? (Quest Master’s Note: Effect depends on the selection made from the first list of choices above.)

1. Yes.
2. No.

[zikari8]

1.1

2.1.1

:v

[Rafflesiac]

“You have my approval. Sire good progeny with my vessel.”

Saver is Good.

“YOU BEGONE, THOT.”

Maria is also Good.

1, 1, 1, 2, 1

[Faux]

1, 1, 1, 2, 1

Shout Memes at the Angry Light, I'm sure It'll turn out fine.

[SleepMode]

Javier: 1, 1

Maria:​ 1, 2, 1

Success? Uncertain. But the defiance? It shows spirit.

[SpoonyViking]

Huh. Saver's backstory reminds me of Marduk.

Now, let's see...

Javier: 1 (Let Maria take on Rider), 3 (Got enough on my plate)
Maria: 1 (Powers through), 1 (How the fuck are you a savior), 1 (Use Grandma's bracelet)

[DRFan]

1,1,1,2,1

[Bird of Hermes]

1, 1


1, 2, 1

[King Prussia]

1, 1
> Maria deserves to kill those Nazis yo.

1, 2, 1
>“That’s right! That’s how it’s gotta be! If you are worthless and weak, then be bold! Be rash, be desperate and burn your life away!”

[Spartacus]

1, 1
1, 2, 1
I always choose the most protag thing to do <.<

[Draconic]

I'm not going to vote on this one. We picked the worst available choice asking about Saver.

[Daneel Rush]

Atkinson Promenade
Day 03
Afternoon Phase – 13-B
Severe Cold (-22 °C/-7.6 °F)

Character Status

Health: Stable
Sustenance: Good
Warmth: Good
Stamina: Stable
Regression Level 2

This terrifying demon wearing Maria’s body prances in an easygoing manner, yet she looks at everything and nothing, and roams the promenade without purpose or direction. She is bored out of her mind. She cares little for the crisis that is this “singularity”. What could be going through the minds of the people looking at this sealed city from outside? The Chilean government? Heck, the entire world? Magic has clearly been concealed throughout history—can something like this be kept hidden in the Internet Era?

If Saver does not care much about the situation, it comes to me to do the proper and serious and sensible thinking. Yikes.

“Maria’s the one who’s after the Nazis. This is her fight to fight.”

Well, there is no guarantee that fighting a Nazi Servant will get her closer to the truth about her grandmother, but she is a true and through Nazi huntress. Definitely more so than Saver.

Saver dismisses the seriousness of my response with a “fuuun” utterance.

“Meh, whatever. Rider wouldn’t have been any fun, anyway. She can have ‘im.”

Is she…is she being petty?

“Then again, if she fights a Servant like she fought Uridimmu a while ago, then you guys are fucked.”

She shrugs.

“The girl has too much in her head; there’s no way she can grasp the dance like that. I sure as fuck am not giving her my True Name or my Noble Phantasm; she’d just get herself stupidly killed, seriously.”

Her smile becomes coy as she nears me one more time, bringing her voice down to a more private volume.

“So? You gonna do something ‘bout the little sneak?”

I shrug. Right now, with Saver around, this sneaky person is in no way a threat. It’s good to know we’re being watched, though. Furthermore, this person is also avoiding Assassin’s zombies. Is it her stealth power keeping her outside their perception, or is it merely Assassin not sending her familiars after a human? I want to believe it’s the latter, but I should be wary of the former being a possibility.

“We know you’re there, miss!” I call aloud. “You better come out right now. Don’t wanna send my friend here after you; she’s not very good at being careful.”

Saver laughs.

“Yup! No good at the capturing thing—ah.”

I immediately catch the change in Saver’s expression from amused and boisterous to somewhat surprised.

“Huh. Pretty good,” she murmurs. “Or at least pretty confident.”

I don’t have to ask her to explain.

“She’s gone. Probably started moving the moment you called out to her. That, or she is even able to hide her own divine factor. Not bad, for a human.”

Saver did say this spy is “like me, but different”. So she has a divine core that gives her stealth magic?

“So, human? Do you know of some local divinity with a talent for hiding? Probably a female deity?”

A female…huh. As a matter of fact, I do.

It’s good to have an idea of what I’m dealing with here, but it’s just weird that all of a sudden there’s another person with divine powers or whatever. I mean, it feels like it should be something rarer, right?

I’d find it hard to believe that it is merely a coincidence. And by the way…

“Yeah, I’ve figured it out, thanks. And my name’s Javier, not ‘human’.”

“Yeah, I don’t care. I’m not gonna remember that.”

Whoa. Déjà vu.

*** ***

Shrine of ■■■■■■



(BGM)

The golden melam flares acutely, and her upper body leans backwards as if physically struck, knees threatening to give in a second time.

She wants to give up.

Her soul begs for mercy and relief. She just wants to drop in some dark corner and sleep for a week, for starters.

Engulfed in agony, trapped between what she wishes to do and what she feels she must do, Maria Westinghouse…takes a step forward.

Oho? You are approaching me? Instead of running away, you are moving closer to me, vessel?

“I can’t beat…the shit out of you…without getting closer…!”

She always wanted to say that.

However, it takes a single step for Maria to understand that this was a terrible, terrible, terrible idea.

Every single photon of divine light is a spear piercing through her very existence. Bathed in this radiance, she feels herself dimmer, lesser; there is simply less of her. Like being submerged in the Abzu without Ereshkigal’s protection, but infinitely more violent and painful, she feels everything that is Maria Westinghouse break apart.

She is not going to merely die; she is going to be destroyed, reduced to her eternal Origin and consigned to oblivion.

She tries to scream in pain, but it is not possible to articulate. Thinking is already a challenge. Her non-physical form stumbles, and her fallen gaze comes to rest on the bracelet around her right wrist.

It is an amulet, a memento and a constant reminder of what she has left behind. It is no “secret weapon”, and Maria is certain it would not improve her chances against any Association bigshot.

“Knot magic” as described in dozens of Internet websites is at most a passing hobby for teenage girls with too much free time and not enough common sense, presented as some almighty trick that can make pretty much anything possible if you believe. The knot magic Maria learned from her grandmother is sensible and centered, based entirely on the very purpose of knots: they bind, constrict, and stop things. Shinto has it right in its use of shimenawa.

Maria’s bracelet is made of her homonymous grandmother’s hair, and it holds her magical energy bound in its eight knots. However, this is not nearly as convenient as those fancy-shmancy gem magic users who can release stored energy as elemental spells and what-not. Magical energy bound with knot magic can only be used to bind other things.

The girl had promised to herself she would wear this bracelet to her grave. However, as she feels her existence break apart, as she realizes she is going to be undone, as she comes to understand that immersing herself in this melam will be the end of her, she abandons all thoughts of holding anything back. If she is to disappear, it will not be because she stopped trying.

As a human, as a woman, as Maria Westinghouse, even if it’s the last thing she does, she is going to reach the center of this miniature sun and punch the one awaiting there…!

It is easier to tap into her magical talent, perhaps because she is not bound to the cage of flesh.

Unbound, Star of Venus.

It would have been impossible to undo the knots through conscious action while ravaged by the golden storm of light. It is the result of an old master’s cruel and thorough instruction which allows Maria to undo the eight knots as if on autopilot. A tiny mote of light floats outwards from each knot undone, until eight in total draw an eight-pointed star around Maria’s wrist.

This is the greatest spell Maria has ever cast, in potency and in ambition. She is not so delusional as to believe she can bind god-like power in her humble knots; she aims not for that much. Merely to create an opening, merely to “dilute” the divine radiance in front of her enough to close in without her existence being annihilated in an instant. Only long enough to reach the center and land a single blow.

Maria is no longer thinking of Valparaíso, of the singularity, of the Nazis or justice for her grandma or Javier Lucero or anything else. Maria Westinghouse has concluded that her existence came to an end the moment she took that step forward. What remains is simple pride, the desire to scream to the world that, at the very end, Maria Westinghouse will not surrender, not even against a demon lord.

The divinity before me is sixty.
Sixty is the unity of this world.
I am eight; eight is the unity of my world.
I am eight, I am one, and I am now totality!

She pulls her right arm back as if to throw a punch—or at least she might have done that; she no longer perceives her own limbs. Her world is only golden light, and it is destroying her.

Maria Westinghouse (believes she) takes another step.

The divine radiance flares menacingly, and chunks of Maria Westinghouse break apart.

I said begone!

What remains of Maria laughs at the hostile words, facing her end with insolence and unleashing her most ambitious magecraft.

“YOU BEGONE, THOT!”

Whu—!?

Mortal magic surges outwards into the golden flares, clashing and immediately losing against the veritable maelstrom. However, the clash redirects the swirling divine radiance, pushing it against the glowing emblem of arcane light. Golden chaos lashes out in every direction, licking and digging through the astral corpus of a single human girl.

Regardless…

Vestigial remnants of human hands reassemble eight knots, completing the binding spell. Maria does not know—she cannot know, but merely feel that it succeeded. He grandmother’s magical energy was promptly consumed by the golden storm, but at the same time a chunk of that melam was captured and trapped in the eight-pointed star.

However, it is not enough.

It could have never been enough. A single bucketful cannot dry out the sea.

It was a ludicrous idea from the beginning. A third-rate magus cannot challenge a mythological godbane from a bygone era. It achieved nothing, but that does not mean it did not have a purpose.

One…more…step…

One step will not make a difference, either. But it is not meaningless. The spell and the steps fulfill the same purpose.

To keep on being, to keep on doing, until the very end.

Perhaps, the meaning of life is to have a good death.

Ereshkigal, at least, would agree.

(BGM STOP)

*** ***

Atkinson Promenade
Severe Cold (-23 °C/-9.4 °F)



When Saver suddenly stops to a halt on the way back to the Drakes’, I stop as well.

It was not natural, the way she stopped, like going from 100 to 0 instantaneously. The motion too abrupt, too forced to be something done willingly.

I seek her face, to find the most unexpected look of surprise there.

She blinks, once. It is as mechanical as The Maid’s last night. Then, she looks at me.

“…well, how about that.”

And she then plops down, like a marionette with its strings cut.

I stand alone, in the middle of a street partially carpeted with snow, for several seconds of peaceful stillness.

“Uh…wha…”

My steps are slow, like I’m approaching a live wire. But it is just Maria’s—still, unmoving—body, and after too long I am kneeling next to her, looking for a pulse.

…

…

…there.

It is there. Faint, but steady.

She just…shut down? What?

“Mr. Javier…?”

Sakura stands there, ten steps away—wait, you’re up and walking in this cold already? Is that alright? You look kinda pale—no, wait, one thing at a time, damn it!

“Um, there are more beds at the Drakes’, right?”

I don’t know what emotion show my eyes. I just don’t get anything.

Evening falls.

*** ***


END OF AFTERNOON PHASE


*** ***

Warning!


This is a Save Point.

If your quest reaches a Dead End, you may choose to resume it from this point.

[Rafflesiac]

I wonder if the sneak was whatsherface, Maria Vyhrmeister. Water to contrast fire and so on.

Also heh, motherfucking Jojo's references.

[Bird of Hermes]

Also heh, motherfucking Jojo's references.

We’re being blessed with the Good Content.

[SpoonyViking]

Ok, I admit: I thought the "Begone, thot" line was a bit too glib for the situation.
I was completely wrong.

[Daneel Rush]

Beyond Their Sight – 05

Unknown Location
Day 03
Severe Cold (-25 °C/-13 °F; External Temperature)

(BGM)

Click here to toggle visibility of Pixiv image

Seigi Nomikata is rethinking his life’s choices.

Perhaps, just perhaps, the adventure of his life, his incessant search for alchemical knowledge, has been taken a step too far. Also, he has a headache.

At least it is warm in his little sanctuary. If only the company were a little better.

“I want to go home…”

“Stop whining, apprentice.”

The British gentleman groans and covers his face with a single hand when a girl in her early teens strolls into the living room in her birthday suit, drying her hair like a golden waterfall with a plain cotton towel.

“Have some shame, please.”

“Why should one such as I feel ashamed of showing my body to the common rabble? That would be like being embarrassed by the intestinal flora crawling in my guts.”

The young lady is the picture of elegance, her diaphanous beauty almost inhuman. A pair of silver piercings adorn the curve of her left ear. She walks around the couch, never taking her eyes off the one she calls apprentice, and the man in his late twenties feels diminished by her stare of irises gleaming like rubies.

She is noble among nobles, the quintessential flower of aristocracy. A fairy sublime, all of humanity would eagerly prostrate itself before her.



The still-naked girl leans over Seigi’s shoulder, looking at the papers in his hands.

“Any progress?”

Seigi feels like groaning, but he is (or rather believes himself to be) better than that.

“I can’t make heads or tails out of this,” he admits, slapping the stack of papers with his free hands and ignoring the sweet aroma of perfumed oils emanating from the young girl. “This thing is riddled with meaningless ambiguities and contradictions everywhere. How am I supposed to make any sense of this…this prattle?”

“And you call yourself a magus? Why are you trying to rationalize mysticism? You sound like one of those pseudo-intellectual atheists who can only find joy in their lives mocking religions on social media.”

“Ow,” complains the man when his right temple is mercilessly flicked.

“Focus on the foundation. Find the basis upon which he constructed all these ideas, and develop the system from there.”

“Wait, you expect me to build the whole thing!?”

“Well, of course. What were you expecting? That I would feed you spells you can write in your spellbook like a D&D wizard?”

Again she walks around the couch, this time to sit on it to the man’s right. As she does so, a translucent white mantle manifests around her lithe and still somewhat moist body, its thick fabric adorned with geometric motifs in golden thread.

“You were the one who wished to learn from me, apprentice. You are seeking alchemical knowledge you cannot get from the Clock Tower, no?”

“You have spent too much time in the modern world, Master,” idly comments the fake redhead. “And when I asked for your instruction, I was expecting lost Age of Gods alchemy, not the megalomaniacal ramblings of a Nazi fraud.”

“And what would a mediocre hack of an alchemist like you do with the techniques of the Age of Gods? If anything I am doing you a service, preventing you from killing yourself in some embarrassing manner.”

“I think I deserve some respect, Master,” says the man somewhat halfheartedly, perhaps already aware of the futility of his words. “I think mastering nigredo as least deserves a measure of acknowledgement.”

“Oh, yes, mastery of decomposition,” replies the young girl in an elevated, slightly mocking tone of voice. “Which puts you at about the same level of competence as bacteria. Shows how a kind and generous Master I am, letting you sleep on a bed when a Petri dish would be enough.”

“Forget I said anything,” says Seigi in surrender after a sigh. “But I still don’t feel inspired to learn this.”

“I guess now is when I hear your pathetic excuses.”

“Hey, I’m a British gentleman; I am obligated to hate all things Nazi. Besides, this…” Again, he gestures at the papers in his hand. “…the idea feels wrong somehow. Almost heretical.”

“Because it is heretical,” admits the youthful Master. “It goes against the concept of sol niger as developed by traditional, ‘Paracelsian’ alchemy. You need to reconceptualize the technique you claim to have mastered, under a different principle.”

“But, the basis of this sol niger is some made-up, fictional star! How do I work with that?”

The girl chuckles.

“The same way you work with

Ether

the Fifth Imaginary Factor

.”

She pats Seigi’s shoulder, and the waves of condescension conducted through that touch make him shudder.

“Make it real, Nigredo Boy.”

“Ni-Nigredo Boy…” repeats the alchemist, feeling a little sick in the stomach.

“Now, get to it,” commands the girl as gets back on her feet. “If you cannot accept the foundation presented by the author, find a comparable basis you can believe in.”

“Wait, I can do that?”

“It is because you still make questions like that, that I believe all modern mages are worthless.”

The towel used to dry her hair falls unceremoniously on Seigi’s lap—a noble’s wordless command for her servant to take care of it.

“It is precisely because the original foundation is so feeble, that it is also just as flexible. Why do you always assume things are more complicated than they are?”

“Am I the only one properly looking at this?” A slightly frustrated young Brit insists, shaking the stack of papers in his hand. “There’s nothing simple about this pretentious runic system!”

“Forget about the runes!”

Seigi blinks, completely taken by surprise by the girl raising her voice in irate exclamation. Ruby eyes glowering as if bearing inner fire, the girl leans dangerously close, until their noses are half an inch away. The gentleman pays no heed to the glimpse of modest cleavage made visible by the simple mantle that leaves her shoulders bare.

“Magecraft. Is. Simple,” she says insistently. “It was made. To be simple. Any and all complexity in magecraft is a limitation of the magus, not of the system.”

Seigi Nomikata is not cowed. Even if the one berating him is an almighty magus in the body of a child. He’s dealt with way worse.

“Not everyone is a transcendental genius like you, Lancer. Stop judging everything by your absurd standards.”

Her face shows not the anger he expected. If anything, she looks hurt; his words actually touching a sensitive string in a heart that thus far had shown only scorn and condescension. For a moment, she looks her age; a young girl plainly put down by the blunt words of an older man.

“That is precisely why…”

A knock on the door startles Seigi, and he is knocked back against the couch after his nose bumps on the girl’s.

(BGM STOP)

He looks toward the door behind him, and then back at his instructor.

Her face is the usual mask of serenity of one who lords over the entire world.

“Marco wouldn’t knock.”

“No, he would not,” says the girl, already making her way to the door with soundless steps. “But I was expecting this.”

The front door of the hostel they have claimed as their base was originally as much a victim of the deep freeze as every other door in Valparaíso. That it currently stands back on its place, properly attached to its frame by hinges, is a consequence of Seigi’s efforts as commanded by his Master. The young girl opens this door, but the cold air from outside does not make it through the threshold.

Two young girls now stand before each other, both with milky white skin, luscious blonde hair and inhuman red eyes. While they could not pass for siblings, nobody would be blamed for thinking they might be related.

“Lily.”

“Liria.”

The taller one in the filthy hood shrugs lamely. Seigi looking from further inside easily notices the overall weakness in the newcomer’s posture. He sees a tired person, perhaps even a defeated one.

“I messed up, so I’m done with the Fourth Reich.”

The one called Lily nods as if expecting those words. Liria’s lips tremble. Seigi now is certain this girl is fighting back tears.

“I have nowhere else to go. Please.”

“Say no more, come in.”

Liria Colhuán takes only a few steps, merely stepping past the door. Her head is held low, gaze fixated on the floor, like the prodigal daughter returning to her parents in shame.

This girl needs a hug. But Seigi Nomikata cannot just go and console a complete stranger. He is therefore the most surprised when his unkind, ungentle Master closes the short distance to the taller girl and envelops her gently.

“You’ve worked hard, girl.”

“Shut up,” retorts Lira, but does not reject the hug. She does not return it, either, her body stiff as if utterly befuddled by the other’s gesture.

“I’m on your side this time, so come in and take a good rest.”

“I still don’t like you, you know.”

“The ancient rules of hospitality care not for friends or enemies.”

At that, Liria finally sighs, as if letting go of something through her breath. Then she sniffs.

“Thank you. For granting me sanctuary.”

“No need to. Whether it is a third-rate alchemist or an uneducated prostitute, all are welcomed with open arms.”

“You’re a bitch, you know?”

“What she said,” promptly adds Seigi, maybe even grateful someone can give voice to the thoughts he normally keeps in his mind.

(BGM)

The two ladies eventually make way to the living room—the hostel’s common area, more precisely. Seigi stands before them. While the newcomer is in her late teens at the oldest, as a proper British gentleman he has to appear cool and charming…even as he catches the first hint of a most unpleasant smell coming from the newly arrived.

“What in tarnation are you doing?”

Of course, it is a challenge to be cool and charming when his inhuman Master is present.

“Waiting for you to introduce me to the lady.”

“What, are modern humans incapable of interacting with each other without a third party? You cannot possibly be that inept.”

“You really haven’t changed at all…” murmurs Liria while the shorter girl is eloquently rolling her eyes.

“Fine, I shall handle this as I do everything else in this place,” says Lily and gesturing in the other woman’s direction.

“Apprentice, this is Whore.”

“Liria! My name is Liria!”

“As her name suggests, she trades sexual favors for the local currency. You may discuss prices when I am not around to be disgusted by you.”

“God, why did I even come here!?”

Their mistake was believing this Servant knows how to treat people as equals.

“Whore, this is Apprentice. Despite his Japanese name and bloodline, he claims he ‘considers himself British’, just like I consider myself better than you two maggots.”

“You are a detestable person, Lancer.” Seigi says it as it is.

“Yet I had achieved more when I was half your age than your entire bloodline has to this day.”

“Really, I miss my Lancer.”

“Stop being pathetic, Nigredo Boy.”

“Ugh…”

Coming to terms with the fact that Lily will never introduce them properly, the two “ordinary” humans decide to be the more mature people in the room.

“My name is Seigi Nomikata. As you can see, I made the unfortunate choice of becoming this child’s apprentice.”

“You are an ungrateful brat, your name is a stupid pun, and your father should be ashamed of himself.”

“You be quiet,” Liria barks at the smaller girl, who harrumphs like the child she is. Then, the pseudo-Servant looks down at the gentleman’s hand offered, and grimaces apologetically.

“Um, I’m Liria Colhuán. The uneducated prostitute. I’m very, very sorry.”

The uncomfortable moment stretches as Seigi looks down at his hand still stretched. Lily rolls her eyes yet again.

“Assassin, while I commend your awareness of your proper place—”

“I hate you so much.”

“—really, just show him your hands. He will see them sooner or later; let us spare ourselves unnecessary discomfort.”

The smile that forms on Lily’s face elicits a bout of cold sweat from both Seigi and Liria.

“In fact, it is warm enough in here. Feel free to take off that filthy cloak—”

“No thank you,” Liria promptly responds.

“Oh, but I insist.”

“Knock it off, you fiend!”

The Cheshire Cat smirk does not relent.

“Very well. Regardless, you explain him everything about Servant Assassin.I shall prepare tea.”

“Wait, you can do that!?”

The Servant Lancer, alias “Lily”, turns back to the two other people who exclaimed in unison, her single raised eyebrow an unspoken question.

“I mean, you…” Liria hesitates, her face shifting through the whole spectrum of surprise. “…you can do things?”

“Well, how rude can you be?”

“You of people don’t get to say that!”

Lily turns her back to the adults, resuming her short walk to the kitchen.

“Naturally, I was thoroughly educated in all the household arts.”

She pauses. Seigi’s mind reminds him that there was no tea in ancient Mesopotamia.

“Of course, with the exception of the bedroom techniques you are so proud of.”

“Oh, fuck off!”

With Lily in the kitchen, humming a song which has not been hummed in four thousand years, Seigi and Liria are left on their own in the living room. As the two settle down on separate seats, Seigi witnesses the gradual return of the woman’s gloom from the moment of her arrival. For all of her rude behavior, Lily’s natural antagonistic presence had successfully distracted Liria from whatever burdens she bears in her mind.

Could it be, that Lily had aimed for precisely that?

“Nah, nah, no way, no way. No way she is that kind of nice person,” ends up Seigi muttering to himself.

“Um…”

Seigi lets out not a sound, but the widening of his eyes is an eloquent enough response to the reveal of the arms hidden under the cloak: monstrous things from the elbow to the comically long crimson nails like stakes. Dark, hairy, not unlike the legs of a fly. And the stench: rotting flesh and viscera; the cauldron of a million corpses.

“So, yeah. I got a Servant shoved inside me, and I became like this,” Liria “explains” with a half-hearted smile. “Sorry ‘bout the stench. I’m used to it, but I know it’s nasty as heck.”

That is saying it lightly. Nobody would want to stick around this pestilence, and Seigi does have to resist the urge to cover his nose. However, he powers through it, because he believes it the right thing to do. He is confident her…monstrous appearance is not the cause for her inner troubles, but no human would enjoy being rejected for reasons beyond their control.

Besides, having some sort of disgusting demonic arms feels like the least of her troubles compared to what keeps bothering him even since this girl, Liria Colhuán, was introduced.

“Umm, Miss…Liria?”

“Hmm? Ah, yes, just Liria’s fine.”

“Yes, thank you. You see, well…”

Mentally kicking himself from walking around the issue, Seigi decides to just go for it.

After all, underage prostitution is a serious problem that he cannot by any means ignore.

“…I know this is very rude of me to ask, but, um, how old are you?”

He does not know how to interpret Liria groaning and burying her face in her monstrous hands, but Lily’s haughty laughter loudly echoing all the way from the kitchen makes him irrationally annoyed.

*** ***

Outside the Shrine of ■■■■■■

(BGM)

Coalesced, manifest divine radiance vaguely in the shape of a young woman calmly awaits its end at the top of the stairs of the submerged ziggurat. Maria would have found it considerably smaller and dimmer than before. It is a candle about to be extinguished.

The Abzu is the source of all life, but that does not mean it welcomes all life in its depths. It is the territory of Lord

Ea

Enki

, and no other deity has a place in it. The source of this divine power never moved from her throne room in the Ganzer Palace.

Ereshkigal.

The voice of the one enshrined in the temple’s interior echoes all around the goddess manifest.

“Greetings to you as well, ■■■■■■.”

Why did you intervene?

“The fact a mortal from the modern era can fall into the Abzu is a major issue on its own. I would claim it is enough of a reason for me to intervene.”

That is not what I meant. Why did you exhaust your power to pull her out?

“Ah, that. Well, this Abzu is not my territory, but it belongs to our shared cosmology. The lives and deaths of mortals remain within my purview in here.”

Soft chuckling echoes waveringly throughout the primeval waters.

“Though, I did not really have to intervene, did I? You never intended to kill the girl. Even if it is a lesser copy of you, you would not deny yourself the chance to fight in the mortal realm.”

I will not be manipulated by the likes of you.

“Manipulation is too ugly a word. I am one of the gods who called out to Lord

Ea

Enki

back then; one of the reasons you exist. Now there is a chance for you to enjoy yourself, and I am delighted to assist you in doing just that.”

You could not be more different, but you are as insufferable as your sister.

“From you, that is the highest of compliments.”

The death goddess chuckles merrily as the sealed demon’s growl makes the water around her vibrate.

I intended to trap her in here.

“Yes. By keeping her trapped, but alive, that Servant Saver would have complete control of the girl’s body. I could not allow you to do that.”

It would be the faster way to resolve the issue.

“True, but Saver would destroy that girl’s body in the process. You do not know how to hold back.”

The sealed demon merely grunts, but it neither confirms nor denies the goddess’ words.

The girl was about to kill herself to achieve nothing.

“Also true, but you do not precisely dislike that kind of bold recklessness, do you?”

A second grunt follows, but this one could as well have been chuckling held in one’s throat.

The two mighty ones remain in somewhat amicable silence for a while. The manifest goddess quietly muses on the mysterious gargantuan shapes swimming in the vicinity yet keeping their distance to the ziggurat. She considers herself privileged to be there, glimpsing at a world beyond the reach of all other gods. However, while she receives the light of Utu for safeguarding every evening, she still longs to one day see it high in the sky, showering the world of mortals with its life-giving power.

Ereshkigal. That human seized a portion of my melam.

“It cannot have been that much.”

That is not the issue. The spell was laughably weak, but it was most definitely a variation of one of the Ornament of Heaven’s “goddess-summoning” rituals.

“That it was. I was pleasantly surprised.”

Why is some pitiful female from the modern era using Ishtaran rituals, Ereshkigal?

“Greatly diminished Age of Gods magic. And why are you pretending you are not delighted about this? Turns out your vessel is a lot more compatible than we both thought. You should be more honest with yourself.”

Grrr…

That one was definitely a growl, and Ereshkigal laughs heartily. Also, something about teapots and kettles should probably go in here.

“Now it is up to the girl and the lesser you.”

I still do not think any of this was worth your efforts.

“And that is the difference between you and me: I know humans are always worth the effort.”

Minutes pass, and the death goddess’ radiance further diminishes. It could be dismissed in an instant, but she wishes to enjoy the change of scenery for as long as possible. Silence and solitude are things she is well accustomed to, ever since she was carried to the Underworld against her will.

(BGM STOP)

Ereshkigal.

“Hmm?”

What is a ‘thot’?

“BWEH!?”

Do your best, Miss Goddess.

*** ***

Warning!

This is a Save Point.

If your quest reaches a Dead End, you may choose to resume it from this point.


*** ***

Warning!

There will be NO Evening Phase Setup. You are locked to a specific event.