JJK 6
Dinner at the Fushiguro household was a simple affair, different from their luxurious breakfast. It was mostly a way for the three members to sit together for half an hour and chat casually, much to Megumi's eternal constraint. His reserved and anti-social tendencies ran deep, but both Tsumiki and Zagreus stonewalled him into submission on these matters.

"Megumi, dinner is ready!" Tsumiki called with her natural upbeat personality, not once wavering at his grumpy and stone-faced response as he submitted himself to her care.

"Today we have an Arabic dinner with Hummus, pita bread, pickle salad, and grilled chicken! I even managed to make this all by myself without father's help too!" Tsumiki beamed while bragging at the diner as if it were an accomplishment. It irritated Megumi how it kind of was. Tsumiki just broke through to the Sophic Realm, a feat Zagreus happily bragged about as nothing short of astounding and prodigious. As Megumi himself lacked a philosopher's ear for rhetoric he couldn't judge, but it was clear in how she often fumbled while manipulating the rules of nature when compared to Zagreus' casual mastery that she managed some sort of insight into it to make dinner without incidents.

"Now, now. Why the frowning face?" Tsumiki cuts in at his reaction; some days Megumi wonders if her virtue shouldn't have been nosiness instead of Compassion. "You adore him, and he clearly feels the same way about us. We even carry his starlight marrow in our bones. He opened his heart to us; it is natural we would answer in kind."

"Enough already! Can't we have dinner without these kinds of interrogations!" Megumi answered with more heat than he intended and immediately regretted it, not because- ok, in part because of Tsumiki's hurt expression, but because he knew what would follow. Zagreus said he had a student bearing similar virtue, he made a point that Tsumiki did not confuse the virtue of Compassion with the vice of meekness, something Megumi agreed to until the time he came to be on the other end of her retaliation.

"Honestly, why do you have to be such a brat!? You are the one who came to accept his proposal! Not me, you! Father has done his best to-

Megumi cringed internally, his perceptible sister picked on his reaction to the 'f' word and instantly connected the dots. The fact this instantly stole the wind from her sail only made things worse somehow.

"Megumi, you saw it. Father in raging heaven, you were him for a moment! Gojo might be an incorrigible man-child, but he is actually spot on about father in that regard… you also saw how things usually ended for him, ravens carry tribulation in their talons and nobody can avoid that visit to their hoof forever. He might see invincible now, but before we know it, he will be gone from our lives." Tsumiki says with a tired expression, it is said that a philosopher can bend the mind of one hundred citizens. It certainly feels this way as his sister guilt trips him.

Megumi knows he is being childish - he has been trained to articulate his emotions his entire life, as mental health is a matter of life and death for cultivators of virtue. He simply can't let go of it the same way he can't let go of the hypocrisy of society, it's just… Zagreus is not his father, Toji Zenin, the sorcerer killed is. He wishes it wasn't the case. Every. Single. Day. But that is the reality of things.

Raising children is a difficult thing and it was clear Zagreus had made them his first priority, as mister Nanami often says with a severe voice, jujutsu is shit but working is also shit. Zagreus didn't need to become a sorcerer but this was the most stable job due to Megumi's background and his damn cursed technique, the gem crown of the Zenin clan. Despite the burden, Zagreus worked without complaint to make himself indispensable while shielding them from the world of jujutsu society. First-grade sorcerers abound shower Zagreus with the utmost respect for his contributions and openly declare they would not be alive without his support and tutelage. He is no different, just the son of an assassin that he took over out of responsibility and his own burgeoning virtue.

"Tsumiki, can we drop it? I am not in the mood."

"…god damn it, fine! Come eat before it gets cold. I am not reheating it for you!"

"Can you actually heat food with your rhetoric alone without it exploding again?"

"Shut up!"

Despite the heavy topic he couldn't help but laugh, these two shenanigans certainly had kept his life interesting if nothing else. There was a gap moe to a 175cm tall amazon sulking like a child, the siblings' bodies had been refined to the Greek standard of aesthetical perfection in pursuit of peak performance. Something Tsumiki, as a Japanese young woman, struggles with even as Megumi silently thanks the Father for it deters most creeps from ever finding out about her cotton candy interior, even if this means he looks more and more like Toji every day that passes.

"Where is Zagreus anyway? Wasn't him with Gojo and Geto looking into Yuta-san's situation?"

"He got called to take care of a special-grade curse, something you would know if you answered our calls!" Tsumiki needled as she scarfed her food voraciously. It seems Megumi burned through her stock of patience for the day already.

"It is not like he is in any danger anyway. I still have goosebumps wherever I remember his fight demonstration with Gojo when I was twelve. That is not the kind of power a mere philosopher has any right to wield." Megumi comments as he casually snacks one cursed dark grape from the fruit stand before sitting with his sister. These had been their cultivation supplement since their youth since they were too young to drink alcohol. Zagreus promised their first adult drink would be something special to compensate, the shitty old man.

Both Fushiguros ate in silence for some minutes until they heard the due yet familiar sound of granite being pulverized. There was a moment of silence as both tried to make sense of it, the reality of the situation. Until they both bolted to the living room, where the spirit marble statues of the family were kept. These stones were both a monument to their cultivation as pneuma connecting it to their creation caused it to refine itself together with the cultivator that create it while also serving as a phylactery. If anything happened to the cultivator the statue would reflect that,

and if the subject portraited were to perish, the stone would be destroyed as well.

Both Megumi and Tsumiki stared in disbelief as the most proudful and imposing display of their household lay in pieces on the ground.

Tsumiki reacted first. "Call Gojo right now!"

-//-

"Hey, are you old geezers trying to get yourselves murdered?" Gojo proclaims while pulling back his bandages. Gone was the cheerful disposition the strongest sorcerer usually carries himself, only the sinister strength of the strongest remains to be seen.

The bad news came in literal waves with the sudden disappearance of special-grade sorcerer Zagreus, to the point his protegees had all but been forced to step in to fill his shoes in the surveillance of the shikigami crows all sorcerers rely on for surveillance and intelligence in their missions.

What triggered Satoru Gojo was precisely the latest bad news, somehow the emptiness barrier failed to manifest a playback record of the incident of Zagreus's disappearance, completely dashing any hope that this wasn't a conspiracy. The number of people capable of pulling this off by themselves is Master Tengen and Zagreus himself. Leaving only bigger institutions as likely suspects with the big three families and Jujutsu Tech at the top of the list.

"I don't know, Satoru Gojo. What do your eyes see? I certainly would like to solve this quickly, despite being a foreigner- no, precisely because of it, Zagreus has accrued so many binding vows from services rendered and traffic of influence that were put on hold until his disconnection from Jujutsu society that now his disappearance put us all in a binding. Your six eyes certainly can see through minute details, so I have to ask. Do you see anybody suspicious among our numbers?" One of the elders asks with a casual tone.

"You dare to sell us old? To this brat? Have you lost your marbles or does death scare you that much?" Other faceless elders declare in outrage, he wasn't the only one. The honorable elders that govern Jujutsu society were soon in an open argument as they threw accusations at each other.

They all were cajoled into a binding vow with Zagreus at some point, it was more a means to plaster their movement against him than for any other benefit. The man certainly wasn't liked, and Gojo wasn't the only one to make the connection between Zagreus and the Greek god Dionysus. To be fair, the name kind of gave the game away. A foreigner sorcerer bearer of an inherited innate technique powerful enough to rival the six eyes and limitless combo. While an unconventional sorcerer like Kinji Hakari who challenges what sorcery is meant to be in the eyes of a conservative faction earns no small amount of disdain despite his potential, Zagreus is regarded with outright fear.

The god Dionysus has an extensive record going from the Mediterranean through Thrace and reaching all the to India, the country that actually first formalized and codified Jujutsu whose mudras and chants are used to this day. This certainly explains the excessive number of arms Zagreus has, plus his third eye. Japan might hold a monopoly over cursed energy but this is mostly due to Tengen's barriers and constant work through millennia, and even then, its golden age has passed so long ago it doesn't bear mentioning. That other countries experienced their own golden age goes without mention by all but the most radical of sorcerers.

That is why Gojo doesn't know what to do right now. His instincts tell him to finally fulfill his fantasy and kill them all, even if they are actually innocent the likelihood of them using this to make a fuss is too high. Yet Gojo knows this is just his ego speaking, they would just be replaced by other old geezers and his reputation would be ruined. Zagreus is regarded with respect by most active sorcerers, he can use this to his advantage instead to gather support.

Because the only thing he knows to be true in his heart is that there is no way Zagreus is dead, the guy is worse than a cockroach. If there was a sorcerer out there capable of killing either of them then there out be no need to hide. Zagreus is most definitely sealed somehow, and Gojo is determined to find him.

If it was the other way around then Zagreus would already be in route to free his ass but he is not as flexible, fortunately, he can get a lot of help even if he has to bank on Zagreus' face to cash this bill.

-//-

Elegant and long fingers pressed the doorbell of the Fushiguro household, to no immediate avail. At this hour of the day, none of the inhabitants were supposed to be present, but those are not normal circumstances. To those living as part of the subculture of jujutsu society, these are turbulent times, and the sorcerer family of said house holds two golden eggs bearing innate abilities comparable to the limitless. The number of cars present in its front yard shows there are at least two sorcerers posted there as guards, likely more as people band together for safety in numbers.

Eventually, someone come to answer the door, a fine-cut salaryman with blond hair, extravagant colored tie, and exotic glasses.

"High there Nanami. Long time no see! Have you decided what is your kind of girl yet?"

Kento Nanami answered said question by sliding the gate back shut.

"Wait, wait, wait! I came here for serious business! I returned to the country as soon as I got the news, don't be cold to me now please!" Pleaded Yuki Tsukumo as she put her foot over the gate line to prevent the high-strung sorcerer from closing the gate to her face.

"I see that your humor is just as crass as I remember. Good thing you didn't lose your cheer in these trying times, but understand that the residents are currently grieving and I don't see how your presence might help." Nanami answered with a tight controlled voice and a glacial stare.

"Come on, you talk as if Zagreus was dead. If a cursed spirit was responsible then we would have already lost a city or two, and if the sorcerer responsible was capable of pulling that off with their own power then they would be challenging Gojo by now. Sorcerers are con artists, there is a hidden angle we have missed." 'Yuki' proclaimed.

"You seem sure of it." Nanami almost accused.

"I have some bad news, more like expostulations actually. I fear we have only seen the beginning of whatever this is."

Nanami slid the front gate open, "Come, Gojo is resting inside."

'Yuki' made herself at home, walking around with the casual ease of long-held familiarity. She lived some time in here, before Zagreus and she broke things off. The place was exactly what 'she' remembers though, full of fruit-bearing trees and small garden and vineyard bearing more fruits than they had any right to and Zagreus' infamous "virtuous" beehives.

The house itself was a wonder of architecture. Raised by Zagreus' own hand together with the Fushiguro siblings' assistance. It was both spacious and homely, with a mix of western and east while made entirely out of wood the likes only seen in ancient pagodas.

From the open balcony, Tsumiki Fushiguro communed with the crow shikigami, then started to make a cellphone call and digitate a report. She was not alone, two suited managers from Jujutsu Tech were acting as her assistants. Tsumiki could commune and command with Zagreus' shikigami but she can't yet share her senses with them, making it a full-time job and still slower than usual. The pseudo-surveillance state Zagreus had over Japan is gone and the safety net sorcerers rely on has gone with it. Tsumiki could work non-top without sleep for weeks and months and it still wouldn't be enough, she simply lacked the standing to measure up, plus her own virtue meant her talent wasn't a one-for-one to Zagreus even if their founding mystery was the same.

Entering the manor, Nanami and 'Yuki' soon find Gojo sprawled in one of its many handmade furniture. He was resting in them almost as if he was dead and the bags under his eyes pecking through a wet tower resting on his face only drove home how far he had been pushed in his search. Fine combing through Japan in search of clues would be exhausting even for Satoru Gojo. The fact he elected to rest here of all places put into perspective the level of paranoia and uncertainty from the whole situation.

His six eyes pinned her with their strength, there was no cursed energy behind them. it was far more simple and yet profound force here. Gojo's life has turned upside down for the second time and he is desperate to find his friend and tutor and inflict retribution on whoever is behind it. Perfect.

"Long time no see, Yuki! How was Thailand?" Yu Haibara, Nanami's sorcerer partner and best friend greeted her. It was no surprise that he would be here, Zagreus had taken the two of them under his wing after a close call with a local imaginary deity and while neither of them has the talent of hunger to ever enter the realm of the strongest, the both of them were polished and refined to be the embodiment of the new shinning standard a first-grade sorcerer has to live up to.

"What is she doing here?" with open hostility, Megumi pinned her down with a look of open derision. Zagreus was right about his cute side, that he would pick up a side and stick to it as if things were so simple is one of the more endearing aspects of young Megumi. He was covered in rapid healing bruises and cuts; it seems Megumi has finally found his motivation and the towering foundation Zagreus has laid down is allowed to shine. Megumi has finally surpassed the bottleneck he has been stuck in for the last few years, he will catch up to Tsumiki sooner than later and it only took some trauma to get him going.

Before things could escalate Gojo steps in, "Megumi, this is not the time." The haggard look and severe stare were what did it. This is a side of the strongest sorcerer that is rarely seen. "Yuki-san, when did you return to the country?"

"About a few hours ago. I take you had no luck finding a trail of Zagreus's whereabout then?"

"You don't seem surprised," Gojo said with a dangerous tone of voice yet no particular heat or accusation. He was asking for her opinion on the matter.

"They know what they were doing targeting Zagreus instead of you, he had direct contact with almost every sorcerer of Japan. While Zagreus could step up to fill your shoes in case you were put out of commission the same can't be said for you. The fact the two of you weren't targeted at the same time also implies this was a one-time trump card – either a sorcerer groomed for this using a technique augmented by a death-binding vow or a cursed artifact. At the end of the day, Zagreus can only manipulate natural phenomena in his favor, not break them."

"I already figured as much. Whoever is behind this seems more interested in spreading chaos than any self-gain. I am asking about their endgame here. What do they stand to gain?"

"Isn't it obvious? You said it yourself. Zagreus was a stabilizing force among the special-grade sorcerers, now that he was gone the old geezers suddenly were reminded what mavericks the rest of us are. While you and I both know he is secretly the worst of the lot when he goes full throttle, his live-and-let-live approach to problems lulled the higher-ups into a false sense of security. A lot of people resented his power and political pull but at least half of them more or less accepted him as a new jujutsu family to be."

"A civil war? That sounds ridiculous as long as the three of us stay together. Hell, Yuta will be a special grade in a few months… fuck!"

"You see my point now? A lot of the old guard has been chaffing under the changes brought about by his presence. Geto has a cult of unaffiliated sorcerer that even Zagreus affectionately call 'the mutant brotherhood' on top of an army of cursed spirits, you are the crown jewel of the Gojo clan, and work as a teacher to make the minds of young sorcerers. That is without counting the connections he has with sorcerers from humble backgrounds. And what is that I hear about Megumi joining the Zenin clan? That sly fox Naobito really got everything he wanted in the end!"

"I am not happy with that either! But Megumi is resolute in mastering the ten shadows and I have to admit the knowledge the Gojo clan has is incomplete… more than that-

"You can't be their guard dog forever. Megumi has a split foundation which makes Tsumiki a more fitting successor as she can take over most of Zagreu's duties, meaning it is easy to assign guards for her on a permanent basis. But do you think this is for the best?"

"Honestly, no. The Zenin clan is far and away the worst and most rotten, but you know Zagreus's ability to judge character is impeccable. He trusts Naobito at the very least, even if he shoots down his proposition to make Megumi clan head. Again, the signs were all there. It was just my childish arrogance that led me to think I was the only one unsatisfied with the status quo. Naobito fears the Zenin clan will be no more if they create a second Toji. I would say good riddance to them but…

"But he is in the same boat as us. It is hard to not be sympathetic. I am just not sure if there is any merit besides clout. This might only raise tensions, as people might see this as a coalition, a power block. This will stir fear and uncertainty." 'Yuki Tsumiki' repeated.

"You are clicking quite heavily on this topic."

"Gojo, don't do anything drastic. It is what they want."

"What. Happened?"

Gone was the playfulness aura Yuki usually wears like a cloak, she looked at Gojo like he was a bomb. "Director Masamichi Yaga trail went cold six hours ago. People noticed he failed to show up to an appointment and his trail was scrubbed clean like Zagreus's. The secret grove where he hid his sentient cursed doll was raided as well. Though this time it was by jujutsu higher-up orders caused by a third party leak. The secret of autonomous cursed corpses will be more or less public very soon."

"… should I kill all these fucking geezers after all?"

"Gojo, you can't overreact. This is likely what they want. It is Toji all over again, just worse. Putting you on a blind world-wise chase was a far more effective tactic than leaving you to guard a single girl for two days. I wouldn't be surprised if they timed it for when you crashed. Acting harshly now will only play in their hands. You are not alone in this, so alienating possible allies won't help. Zagreus can go for months, likely years, without food or water. Plus, sealing usually has restrictions against cheesing ways to kill opponents like that. The worst thing we can do is overreact.

"That is a pretty tall order you are asking of me here. You are saying to basically do nothing!"

"I am afraid it isn't so simple. Let's be honest, as things were going a hot conflict was bound to break out. We simply gained too much ground over the last decade. That is why we can't be the aggressors. This is about legitimacy – if the higher-ups pop up with an uncontrollable army of sentient cursed corpses then we will have all the justification we need to act. There is no way they won't mess this up!"

"So, this is a political game of chicken then? See who cracks under pressure first?"

"Not ideal, and the replacement for Yaga is bound to be insufferable for you, but it is necessary. Otherwise, we might put all the progress we have achieved so far to lose. You have to talk Geto into this! I hate this as well, but some stability is the only way to force whoever is pulling the strings to show their hands. Then we can catch them by the tail!"

"…"

"Gojo, you have been prepared for this. I know this is hard on you. The title of the 'strongest' is something you have been running from for some time now. But I beg you, endure this until we find Zagreus!"

"… fine."

Perfect.

-//-

[AUTHOR'S ROOM]

Yeah, this is what disguise and sneak of 100 can get you. Curse Manipulation was essential for Kenjaku's plans so he had to forfeit the advantage of being a perfect infiltrator to acquire it, now he is coming from a different angle. He used energy bending together with his knowledge and experience to release some of the reincarnated sorcerers earlier for his plan. Remember, Gojo only saw through his disguise because Geto was his BFF and because he killed him himself.

Kenjaku is the master of freestyling and he decided to exploit the tension created by Geto and Gojo's agenda to reform jujutsu society for his own benefit. He lived for long enough to know how to start a civil war and his technique gave him the perfect cover. Now powerful sorcerers are being snatched up in the cover of darkness and paranoia reigns supreme.
 
JJK 7
A Greek soul arms himself with the rules of nature and uses them to do the work of many. As scholars of profound mystery, it is taught that knowledge is a strength all its own.

Even if all a man knows is the question and not the answer, one eye is better than full blind. To know that you do not know a thing is the first step to understanding it. The spring from which virtue and refinement flow.

It was the thesis statement of Greek cultivation – the grander the complexity and the more opaque the mystery, the more there was to be gained from understanding it. The Greeks desired beauty of self, order over chaos, and so they also imposed that beauty and order on the world outside of themselves. For Virtue is performative excellence, a man's external reality mirrored his internal reality like an ouroboros.

When I asked why two Japanese kids would have Greek souls, Zagreus explained to me that this is a phenomenon related to the part of the human psyche (soul) that is linked and shaped by human collective consciousness. For all that humans like to think of themselves as special, we are often just shades of those that came before. Humans can't even articulate our thoughts without language to pin said ideas down and every work we ever pronounced not created by ourselves had to be invented by others. These are the honorable dead who took decisions that truly mattered, the beaten path we follow unquestionably as if a truth given by The Father himself.

The moment that I accepted his proposition to become our guardian I also accepted to be exposed and shaped by the hands of these long-forgotten men and women as they are an intrinsic part of who Zagreus was. Humans truly live in the cadaver of our greatest ancestors as a matter of course and most don't even realize it. The moment Zagreus took us in, Tsumiki and I became another link in said chain boing all the way back to 'The' Father- no, even further.

Yet it is ironic that I am more bothered by the undeniable link I share with a deadbeat whose face I can't even remember than that to divine monsters that eat their own children as if they were candy.

The oldest generation takes the youngest generation in their hands. You are torn apart, limb by limb, before you speak your first word. You scream in a voice so loud that their ears bleed and the heavens shake in their frame, but it is not enough to rouse your murdered mother. It is not enough to stir The Mother's wrathful heart.

Anyways, Jujutsu is an art form, even as its claims of individuality are seemingly contested by the existence inherited and its implication of fungibility between souls. The truth of the matter is that bearers of the same technique often differ radically from one another. While I learned just enough about tempering souls in greater mystery to know how abhorrent and extreme their methods must be to perpetuate said techniques through their descendants, literally like a curse, at the end of the day it is like a mutation that causes a person to be born with a brush for a third arm. The instrument might be the same but the player is different.

I am not a good artist. Never had the interest Tsumiki and Zagreus shared in music. While it is impossible to not be overtaken by the enthusiasm once scarlet strings start to sing in the voice of one's heart, I lacked the calling to it that makes one great.

Yet I do like puzzles. That is why despite having a split foundation I never thought too much about it. The purpose of cultivators isn't to cultivate, refinement is a byproduct of pursuing a fulfilling life by following a vocation. Challenges and tribulations will follow as a matter of course, nobody can avoid a crow on their roof forever.

I knew that, I had seen it and experienced it as vividly as if I had been the one tortured by The Mother as the Wheel Turned, yet I happily ignored it until reality blindsided me.

I was being childish and stubborn. A petulant child being difficult out of a sense of insecurity and a need for self-affirmation. I hate bad people, they disgust me with their empty minds and lack of sensibility, acting out of an empty sense of superiority. I can't stand good people, they make me nauseous when they forgive people and act as if meekness is such a good thing.

Ant yet…

Despite knowing better, I didn't understand. Despite saying things like 'unfairness in circumstances is the only thing fairly imposed on all of us' I never thought Zagreus could be removed like that. I won't accept this! Sorcerers are 'wheels of punishment' that exist to even out misery, so that many good people can have a little bit of equality and happiness. It is admirable but I always thought this worthless, I am not a hero. I never would be.

The Mother hates him nearly as much as she hates you. She curses him with madness, as she cursed you, and breaks his back with labors. He suffers these tribulations with greater poise and grace than you ever did. He stands tall. He struggles on behalf of those that suffered before him, and those that will suffer after. He is a Champion.

I would like to say that is because I am a sorcerer and not a hero but this isn't necessarily true. In the end, my slit foundation means my soul is pulling in two directions, yet they can agree on something. I know this has nothing to do with logic but I can't ignore the suffering of good people. Even if it is dangerous or dubious, I don't want to see a good person being crushed by the Wheel.

This is nothing but a selfish choice driven by emotion but I am someone who wants to save people unfairly. Something inside me, a voice from the very core of who I am tells me I will never regret saving people like this, not even once. Righting the wrongs laid bare by the unfairness of the Fates can't be a mistake. It is like Mr. Nanami in a way, even if I act far meaner about it.

I finally understand why you took us in, old man. It wasn't charity. You made this for yourself. Even if it was just a whim, this makes me super happy, that you chose us. I promise to apologize for being a difficult brat next time we meet. So, hold tight, your helpless drunkard of a father, until we can rescue you!

"Fushiguro! Take Kugisaki with you and run away from here!" Yuji screams at me while we stare helplessly at the special-grade finger bearer cursed spirit. Despite being mutilated by this monster Yuji still put our lives above his own, and that is how he ended up with the death sentence of being the vessel of Ryoma Sukuna.

Because of my incompetence. If I had been better then he would never have to get involved.

"I will hold it back until you leave this place. When you are safe outside, give me any signal, and then I will swap with Sukuna."

"There is no way-

"Fushiguro!" He turned to me, the happy buffoon. "I am counting on you." Yuji says with a clean face, the same one he used when he called me 'reliable' and thanked me for the piss poor job a did in 'saving' him.

I have carried in my vein my father's starlight marrow for over a decade. I still remember the day he gave it to us. How it burned. We had to seize it in hand and make it part of ourselves, forcing it to submit even as it burrowed channels through our flesh. For cultivators are never young, only unrefined. If it burned was because of our lack, for refinement is always painful.

While I resented the experience at first, over the years I had learned to appreciate it for the priceless gift it was. Every time we bounced back from injuries and illnesses in hours or bounced back grueling training like it was nothing, I saw its worth. At some point, it faded to the background of my awareness and though I knew the ascension to the sophic realm brought with it a shift of the flesh, I dismissed this as something only a philosopher's eyes were meant to discern.

So why does it burn? I feel hot under the collar, it is like I am a kid again. I am deathly afraid of this thing yet I am more scared of turning tail and leaving Itadori behind. How can I save Zagreus if I keep on failing to save a single gifted civilian? He is alive thanks to a fluke of fate, and his future is hopelessly grim. This whole mission went fubar from the start and is so full of irregularities that I can only call it malicious incompetence.

People are trying to get three students killed. Because of some political crap, nobody would remember in a few months.

"Fuck that!" I only realized I said that out loud when Yuji got so startled, they jumped back.

The monstrous thing looked at me with annoyance but I was beyond caring.

You do not belong and The Mother makes certain you are never wanted. So you force yourself upon the world. You live in it regardless. Out of spite.

Defiant.


As if I would roll over and die! The starlight marrow raged inside my body, so hot now that my breath steamed like I was in the deep winter of the countryside. It whispered the me, in an eerie familiar voice. It promised me I could win. It promised me I could do anything, so long as I committed everything to the act.

It told me I was invincible. It was liquid Hope itself.

The starlight marrow reshaped me like it hadn't in years. It had become liquid refinement, tempering my body as it circulated in rhythm with my incensed Spirit.

That is when it clicked, old lessons about the connection between the soul and the body. And I couldn't help but smile. One year, yet it is somehow unsurprising the stubborn old man wouldn't simply roll over and die. He is trying his best as well.

"Hey, Yuji. Am I a reliable guy?" I was surprised by how light my voice had become, but it felt right.

"Y-yeah? I mean, you are."

"Then rely on me. I won't let you down, even if I die."

"Megumi!?"

When I reached twelve Zagreus decided to finally take Tsumiki and me along to one of his and Gojo's escapades after recruiting Y-, Tsumiki-san as a chaperone. By then we had both been tempered by starlight marrow and were deep in the civic realm, the foundation of our souls was judged developed enough to absorb the incoming lesson. Past a certain point of advancement, even the seemingly simple techniques are vast amalgamations of smaller pursuits; that some lectures contained multiple lessons interwoven into each other was an implicit fact. To prepare students for what is to come while we sharpen our minds against parts of the world that are not up to debate.

Said that even if I was no longer a child anymore, things aren't as simple as picturing the greatest feats I had seen Zagreus pull off and then imagining how I might replicate them and then let it rip. Yet, in the same way unraveling mysteries serves as a spring to virtue so does the process of visualizing the thousand virtuous steps needed to pull it off.

Zagreus is the greatest cursed corpse and shikigami user according to Gojo himself and I had seen it for myself how he unraveled the basic principles of the Ten Shadows and made it his own, somehow. By using his hands of manifest intention as a medium he performed the hand sign to cast an appropriate shadow puppet and then used his ivory (lie) shadow to breathe life into the shadow cast into the wall.

In order to strengthen the construct he uses a binding vow to strengthen the resonance between himself and his shikigami, imprinting his body's information to empower the puppet at the cost of suffering a portion of any damage incurred by it, like a stand, a voice suspiciously similar to Gojo and Zagreus echo in my had. He even has the hard limit of ten shikigami as well even though both of them are suspiciously close-lipped about the nature of each shikigami. I know enough about the Sophic Realm to suspect they are the manifestation of Zagreus's principles.

The finger bearer charges me as he senses my resolve. It is too fast for me to dodge it conventionally but that is okay, I simply sink into my shadow as I bring my hands together into the 'piercing wine' form – if Zagreus can not only endow each of his shikigami with a unique gimmick but also manifest them himself by complaining to a restriction enforced by a binding vow then why can't I do something similar by expanding the interpretation of my technique?

Max Elephant is just a shadow cast by me. If it is ivory (lie) then this makes me horn (truth). I impale the finger bear with a blade made out of a high-pressure water jet, almost cutting it in half. Despite its gruesome injuries, the thing would be back to proper fighting form in no time at all.

I turned toward the gawking Itadori, "Ok, new plan. I kill that thing and you focus on regrouping with Nobara. And don't forget your hand! I will reattach it later."

Itadori accessed me for a second, then nodded after finding something to approve of.

The cursed thing is getting his bearing back way too quickly for my taste, and my guts tell me it won't be so easily fooled a second time yet it lacks any true cursed technique, there is a thing I can do to win. If I can pull this move then I can close the gap between us.

Old man, don't fail me now. Gojo was right about something, jujutsu is an individual sport. To grow I have to picture a future me that freely surpasses my current limits!

I open my ears to the melody of my heart with Orpheus's heart sense.


View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LtssUOzJFhY

Jujutsu is an art (Pathos & Ethos), it doesn't need to be perfect it just needs to convey intent.

When I was twelve, I saw for the first time the chasm between Heaven and Earth. What Ten Shadows could be, how each shikigami could be fused and separate like lego pieces to accomplish any objective and overwhelm any opponent. Seeing Satoru Gojo being overwhelmed by four cardinal chimera generals and an army of undead dragon tooth warriors I saw a promise of great things to come, an echo of the fourth realm.

True cooperation can be achieved either through bonds of camaraderie cultivated through a lifetime of tribulations or through Greater Imposition. Subjugation, the trade of Tyrants. It is only right that the shikigami that I subjugated can be forced into marching to the cadence of my heart's melody. I still lack the experience with barriers to raise one of my own but it is only justice for me to take one by force then. This place is this curse's innate domain, I just need to make it mine own by painting it in my own colors.

"DOMAIN EXPANSION – CHIMERA SHADOW GARDEN"

That knot in my soul unraveled and an almost forgotten sense of euphoria overtook me as I ascended to the 10th rank of the Civic Realm. I couldn't help but laugh in exaltation as my shadow ate away at the space until reality became an abyss of darkness.

The finger bearer rushed at me, impaling me with its cruel talons but it was of no use. At this point, in this place, the domain was my true body. There is no need to worry if the cup is horn or ivory when living life to its fullest! What does it matter if I am just a shadow being cast on the wall? I can still revel in life!

I laughed. I laughed and laughed in triumph, even as I was being torn apart again and again.

"Chimera Beast Hydra!" I proclaimed as I pilled all nine of my shikigami together into one giant monstrosity while I pilled the finger-bearer cursed spirit with a mob of shikigami.

It couldn't even be called a fight, the curse was overwhelmed but it would be boring to finish it off so unceremoniously. Domain Expansions demand a sure-hit attack and seeing the poor show of the thing hit me with a surge of inspiration. I memory I could never forget, so vivid I might as well call it mine own.

The Mother sees you one day as you tend your fields. She finds you as unsightly now as she did before. She curses the men and the women you shared a childhood with. In their madness, they tear you apart limb-by-limb and consume you. You beg them to stop until you can no longer form the words. You beg them with your eyes until those too are taken.

When nothing remains but your senseless beating heart, lightning scours the fields and salt water falls upon the ash that's left behind.

You die. Again.

The wheel turns.


Sparagmos – the ritualistic dismembering by an act of rending, tearing apart, and mangling in a Dionysian context. The "Tearer of Flesh".

Omophagia – the act which follows Sparagmos, the eating of the raw flesh of the one dismembered. Dionysus' epithets of Omophagos means "Raw-Eater".

Luckily, I still had enough sense to avoid Sukuna's finger itself, but I didn't hesitate to sink the teeth of my influence into the cursed energy of the finger bearer until nothing but the cursed item remained.

Only when the innate domain collapsed, did I notice how overburdened I was, the starlight settled inside my bones had run me ragged. Now that the crisis is over the raging consuming passion that ran through me has finally settled down, leaving me empty.

Burning me as it recast me into a superior self in response to outside pressure caused by a crisis. Self-overcoming.

How typical.

-//-

"So, how are they holding up?" Geto asks with a carefully even tone of voice. Days like these are why he gave up being a sorcerer. Why he almost walked a path of no return.

"Better than expected, worse than I hoped." Gojo surmised while sprawled in his chair in a slough demeanor. "Tsumiki picked on the irregularity surrounding the incident and tried to contact Megumi. She immediately moved to intercept him when he failed to answer, that is when she was attacked."

"Autonomous cursed copses bearing multiple innate techniques. What a nightmare. If Zagreus hadn't somehow pulled through from wherever he is sealed we might have lost both of them." Geto massaged his face to push back the exhaustion, he had been fine combing for a trail of their enemies to no avail. "We can't go on like this Satoru. I am tired of reacting, we need to be more proactive about this."

"… you are right."

"I am? Some years since last you heard my advice. You must be at your wit's end as well then. Finally realizing your fantasy of killing the old geezers?"

"Businesses before pleasure. Yuji's appearance seems to have really spoked them yet it felt too sloppy, as if this was an attack of opportunity from middle management instead of the perfect crime they pulled against Zagreus."

"Yet we caught his trail anyways, didn't we? I see where you are going. I guess this is where I come in, right? I am more suited for this task than you. But are you sure about it?"

"I am. While the Zenin clan is split in two and ready to implode, the Kamo clan is completely compromised. Maybe it had been so from before we were born. Nothing wrong with a preemptive attack if we find a justification for it later on."

"And Yuki? Do we tell her this?"

"No… it might be cruel to play dice with Zagreus' life like that without her but she clearly is too invested to do what it takes. Yuji seems to garner a lot of her attention so I intend to distract her with him for a while. He is certainly to hit it off with Todo as well."

"Isn't that the kind of crap we hate the higher-ups for?"

"Don't mention it. I hate the idea as well, but we will be picked off one by one if we stay still."

"Speaking of surprising developments, what can you guess of Zagreus's situation? What do your eyes see, Gojo?"

"… seclusion training. That is my best guess. Like the closed-doors cultivation from Chinese novels. Due to the nature of cultivation of virtue, the benefit of this kind of training is dubious, despite the similarity in concept and names it is impossible to reach omnipotence by breathing through your mouth like a retarded for a thousand years."

"Virtue is performative excellence. It seems like a pretentious catchphrase but there are layers of wisdom within. Between the nature of Zagreus's First Virtue and the stakes involved due to his absence, it seems circumstances aligned to force him beyond his limits."

"Leave it to him to show off at the eleventh hour." Gojo's words were full of derision but the fondness behind them were unmistakable. There is a tension involving the uncertainty of Zagreus's disappearance that had been released with the confirmation of his survival.

"I bet you he will get free and join the frame just as this whole stalemate implodes in our faces." Geto finishes in good sheer.

"What do you take me for, Geto? This is a sucker's bet." Gojo answers with fake exasperation.

The day almost became a tragedy but the sorcerers came out of it victorious. More than that, it's the uncertainty that kills a man. This is the moral boost the sorcerers need to push forward in these uncertain times.

Alas, none were wise to the expectant joy of the King of Curses.

-//-

[author's notes]

Imagine Sukuna making Hisoka face at Megumi. Technically he is fifteen even though Gege could easily give everyone five years with the way he draws.

I skipped the filler since Kenjaku managed to pull Sukuna resurgence so perfectly that everyone believes it to be some freak coincidence. I get that this was supposed to be a scout mission but people should have warned Yuji against making binding vows with Sukuna.

Next chapter shit hit the fan!
 
JJK 8
"Well, look at that. Hope stored at the bottom of the pithos." Not-Yuki said in her usually flippant and irreverent tone born out of schadenfreude.

It made my blood boil.

"Who the hell are you?!"

"Oh? Are you drunk Zagreus? Don't you recognize your one and only Yuki-chan? And here I went the extra mile to set up this date. Isn't it just as memorable as our last one?" Everything about her, down to the smallest mannerism was flawless. The way she sways her head, the light dancing in her eyes, the swing of her body.

This should be Yuki.

The Yuki in front of me is just as beautiful and free-spirited as I remember… and yet I can't help but reject her.

My gut is telling me this creature is fake. It is telling me to get angry. That I should tear it apart.

That I should hate it. Because my worst fears are reality.

It is like I lost the bottom of my stomach. A lead weight dragging me down.

My heart is constricting like it wants to escape from my chest.

Yet my mind is utterly lost. I don't know what is going on.

No. That is a lie. I don't want to face reality.

When a man is born, the Fates weave his future and swaddle him in it. Men cultivate virtue so that they can cast off that swaddling weave. When a cultivator ascends to the sophic realm, he casts off his silk bonds of mortality and tethers himself to his Principles. This grants him an astonishing lifespan, the power of the rules of nature, and a soul capable of hearing and emoting discourse free of the constraints of the body.

This comes at the cost of subjugating oneself to the soul's higher aspirations. These ten rules for life are boundaries that define the limit of my soul.

That is why I know.

Yuki already…

"I WILL KILL YOU!! I WILL INFLICT EVERY VIOLATION, EVERY PUNISHMENT, AND PAIN THAT EXIST IN THIS EARTH! YOU DON'T DESERVE A PLACE AMONG HEAVEN AND EARTH! THERE IS NO PUNISHMENT APPROPRIATE FOR YOU DOWN BELOW EITHER!"

"Oh, my. What a pair of lungs you have! How appropriate, I guess… wait. Are you crying?"

I tried to summon my pneuma to no avail as I tried to bite off the throat of the revenant wearing Yuki's skin like a suit. It was of no avail, the bondage of bitten iron is the Achille's heel of cultivators, capable of rendering the pneuma inert and irresponsible. Chaining both the soul as well as the body.

The dark fate reserved for a race made of iron.

"Well, there is no point in keeping the charade." Yuki pulls the suture around the crown of her head, uncapping the top of her skull like a cap to reveal the smiling brain.

I lost. I had lost long before I realized it as well.

"What? Did you run out of breath? I guess I can't fault you and it is convenient. I wanted to trade some words before I seal you."

"Who are you, and what are you after?"

"My name is Kenjaku and well, do you remember our little talk about the nature of gods a few years ago?"

Of course, that thing would have access to Yuki's memories, even if its mannerisms are being displayed unconsciously. It fits with Yuki's own research about the body, soul, and the resonance that binds them together.

"A god's nature is to live apart. Untouched and unspoken of. A pure existence – the true form of feelings and ideals that linger in men." I remember. We happily whispered secrets meant only for each other while singing sweet nothings to each other like it was a personal game of dare.

"Indeed. Yet, humans are too tainted to understand this kind of purity and perfection. It goes beyond ignorance. The answer would shatter the ego of all who witness it." Kenjaku proselytizes as she fastens the skull back into place.

No.

"Or so I thought until you came in. Virtue is how a mortal aligns himself with the divine. If the answer is too much then how about tempering one's soul in the question? To pursue virtue is to be beholden to it, to shape oneself to it. To plunge into the deep in pursuit of what lay beyond the darkness of uncertainty even while forsaking all wealth and pleasure the world has to offer because the pursuit is what justifies your existence. That is what means to be alive!" The monster said while infusing his rhetoric into the world and invoking the first principle of its soul.

Kenjaku makes a painfully snobby face Yuki wouldn't be caught dead making.

"You really understand, don't you? Think of the perfect shape of fear and destruction. A cursory look at the world we live in reveals it can't be found anywhere. It could never exist among mortal men because every human will have a different answer. Metaphysics – The study of abstractions. The contemplation of things that can't be directly observed. I thank you from the bottom of my heart!"

"And yet…"

"Ha, ha ha! You got me there. It isn't enough. I can now picture the path in my mind's eye but what I really want is to truly see!"

"Tengen." I said the name like it was a curse.

"Precisely. I thank you, Zagreus. You left quite an impression on that shut-in with your performance of overwhelming aggression that disregard all else. Again, I can't fault her for that. I am the same. You blew Sukuna out of the water! I dreamed it was possible but feared it would remain just a dream until I met you! Unfortunately, you are too strong and unpredictable to remain on the board. I promise to release you a century or millennium in the future. Let's meet again in a new world!"

"This is it then? You two are conspiring together to turn that thumb into a god by fusing her with the entirety of Japan? And you think I will let you? Didn't you hear me? I will make you regret being born!... just sit tight and wait for me, Yuki. I am going to free you."

Whatever retort Kenjaku was about to say was arrested by Yuki's surprise attack. A star rage-infused punch to the brain. It probably would have worked as well if it was anyone but Kenjaku, the brain invoked the rules of nature in a desperate counter sacrificing both of her arms in a calamitous clash.

She then started to laugh in an uncanny out of character way while healing with RCT. "That is the first time such a thing happens, yet it fits with your hypothesis of the soul. Not a dull moment with you, is there? I will keep what you said in mind while I await you in the new world that is about to be born." The Prison Realm closes during her final proclamation, sealing my fate.

"Good night, Zagreus. Have sweet dreams thinking of me, will you?" Not-Yuki saluted while blowing up a kiss. "Gate, close."

-//-

Well, crap baskets. I don't think I have seen so many skeletons since my days as a grave keeper. The former inmates of my cell. Time also doesn't seem to pass here – it is a contradictory feeling of constraint a person has while working oneself to the bone to meet a tight deadline while at the same time, the clock seems to be standing still and is never-ending.

This is sort of appropriate since I can only guess the sort of havoc Kenjaku is up to in Yuki's body. I am on a deadline, the longer it takes me to get out the more dire things will get. Easier said than done though, the Prison Realm is in a whole new dimension as far as barrier techniques are concerned.

I know enough about Genshi to deduce this is based on his Magnus opus, Ōjōyōshū ("Essentials of Birth in the Pure Land"). A contemporary of Tengen, and probably Kenjaku as well, he must have understood the secrets of cursed energy. The rift between Dream and Reality is a Curse. In that sense, the Pure Land is the proposition that aims to break free from cursed energy, the Cursed Realm, and the reincarnation circle.

The Wheel has stopped turning.

Ironic enough, this makes the Prison Realm a hard counter against my founding mystery of the [Wheel Turning] as the principle of the Pure Land is a conceptual denouncement to metempsychosis (μετεμψύχωσις), colloquially known as the reincarnation circle. The death of the prisoner may allow the Prison Realm to be used once more but the souls of the previous victims are still chained still to this day. While a normal person would only see skeletons my affinity with chthonic spirits give me the means to see the ghost for what they truly are.

They are one and all praying for salvation that will never come. A macabre chorus of despair.

Despite the degree of refinement my pneumatic and sophic senses have reached, I still find no seams to this prison. There is no seam for leverage my influence and pull this place apart… or maybe I am simply too weak to find it and then force my way.

Well, if it is the first then I already lost but if it is the second option then I still have Hope.

While cultivators of virtue don't practice closed doors cultivation for more than months this has to do with the nature of the cultivation of virtue, heroes ascend through Labors and tyrants through acts of tyranny. And yet this doesn't mean it is an ineffective method, in fact, due to the fact cultivators of virtue bit their souls to multiply by fostering the excellence inside their souls we are far less reliant on the traditional 'cultivation resorts' xianxia characters can't seem to live without.

Unknowingly Kenjaku just handed me over the perfect circumstances for me to perform closed-door cultivation. Either I break through to the Heroic Realm or everyone I love is left for dead. I tattled far too much about the Old Gods to Yuki to satisfy her curiosity and these hints were everything that Kenjaku needed to attempt the creation of an ascended god like the god of Fear and Hunger.

Forget Japan, the fate of the world is on the line!

We need a hero.

Good thing then that Hope springs forth eternally.

The highest of all blessings for it is the only thing that endures when everything else fails.

The worst and most twisted of all curses for it augments all other evils in empty promises.

I have to keep hope that I can escape it and I already know where to start. I look at the crowd of burned skeletons and the ghosts hidden behind them. Death is a sacred tragedy, even a corpse is owed its dignity. My time as a grave keeper has taught me the worth and value of granting a proper repose to the restless dead.

They too hope to be free one day. We are joined by common misfortune and no friend of mine will be left as a pauper with an open grave. Time to put my old spiritualist skills to use, the lack of quarry is no restriction. Bakkahos constructed the Statue of Zeus at Olympia, one of the ancient wonders of the world. It was said that he gathered its gemstones, its golden plates, and its ebonies, all from the Parthenon of his own cultivator's heart. Over the last decade, I gorged myself on the cursed energy of Japan, I have a lot of spare fat to burn.

-//-

What was once a macabre cage made of restless bones is now a tranquil grave. I gave every ghost the best burial I could manage. This place is still a cage but I banished the despair of this place, they are ready to cross to the other side once I break free from here. All cursed energy resonates in a virtuous circuit.

It was hauntedly beautiful if I say so myself. My best work so far.

A distraction more like.

I really miss the time you were shyer. Words might be worth their weight in silver but silence is gold.

You are just turning your face away from despair.

The important thing is that this little project helped me re-center myself. To meditate on my captain virtue. Based on my early decision I arrived at a concrete plan to solve my current predicament.

Coward!

The Titan of the Moulden Clay, Prometheus created mankind from the ashes of the Titans that devoured Dionysus. This is the attributed source of humanity's dual nature, the body, inherited from the Titans, and the soul, inherited from Dionysus. A man (Logos) in a chariot pulled by two horses, one ornery and blacker than night, the other snow white and passionate.

Prometheus golden ichor was capable of remaking a person like he was clay, it was liquid refinement itself. But the refinement of what? The body or the soul?

Yuki gave me the answer. The soul is the body and the body is the soul. Unity in all things is best, unity of the body and the soul most of all. In living the proper way, the virtue of the body and the virtue of his soul will be in perfect synchronicity with one another. It all begins with virtue. And it all ends with virtue just the same.

Now, what is virtue? Sure, even I parrot it as performative excellence all the time but the truth is that those are just the effects of virtue, not the cause. Virtue is a hard concept for men to tackle as it exists in the ineffable realm of metaphysics together with the soul. Fortunately, I already established that the soul can be physical as well as abstract. Hunger, spirit, and reason can be attributed to the body as much as they can to the soul. So why should virtue be any different?

Humans may have souls but it was the Thief of Flame that stole for us a spark. We are all his children. This also means that he can be called a prototype of the human form in Plato's theory of form. The manifested ideification of the human form. The finishing line to the race for divinity is called cultivation. And it is fundamental for cultivators to know where they are racing toward.

Together now.

The Diminishment of the World might indeed be a ruthless cosmic constant. I may indeed be just another worthless man from a race of iron, condemned by the Fates to never rest from labors and sorrow by day, and from perishing by night as the gods rain down sore trouble upon us for our impiety and irreverence. That is okay, human wisdom has unveiled the secret of elemental transmutation, or rather how it can be used as a guiding principle through unity to uplift a hardy but worthless iron soul.

It is our quintessential nature, to transgress in the territory of the Heavens.

I focus on the starlight marrow flowing in my veins. I incense my spirit and covetous nature with the heat of my virtue and force it to burn. I endow my starlight marrow with the weight of a thousand truths that comprise the loading-bearing principles that govern my soul. Then I turned said heat upon my flesh, unmaking me and tearing everything superfluous until only what I couldn't live without remained.

Legends say the Father split humanity for our transgression, that every human being is only half of a greater whole.

In this Prison Realm where the Wheel has halted to a standstill, I will reach into the past, to borrow memories of a Silver bright world.

Humans are born whole but unconscious.

A truth doesn't need to be complex to be profound, there is strength to be had in clarity of purpose. Every new generation thinks itself more enlightened than the last as it gathers more knowledge and yet they are only lesser for chaining themselves tighter to that understanding.

As they come to know the world, they cut themselves to size in order to fit in.

A hero's nature is defiance against the world's decline. To be a hero is to subjugate to the soul's higher aspiration, to virtue, through performative excellence, through action, to right the wrongs of the world. That is why the age of heroes is remarkable in the improvement of the world whereas before it only fell further in decline.

A man would more readily see himself as a worthless wretch than accept gold hidden inside his soul.

Prometheus condemned himself for eternity but this doesn't change the fact he won. The Flame cannot be taken back by the Heavens, once Greek fire ignites it will burn until everything is consumed. The ladder to Raging Heaven cultivators so desperately climb is only a byproduct of his actions, not his final goal. For all his forethought, Prometheus was moved because his children were freezing, were blind. What else was I to do? Some things exist apart from explanation.

That is Passion

That is Passion.

How long have I been here? I don't know. I can't know either. By now the only thing I knew for real was the searing heat of my starlight marrow as it coursed through my body like ruby veins. It is like holding a hand on boiling water and forcing yourself not to flinch away from it. I wasn't a Titan, even if I was created from the clay in the image of one. I had no means to direct its refinement toward a particular feature or aspect, and even if I could I wouldn't know how to improve upon them. If it was so easy, I would have done so years ago.

Stop whining, there is nobody who cares here.

Everything I have to guide me are remembrances of a silver-bright world.

And they are enough. Keep trying.

You are mad.

The definition of insanity on legs, yes.

Such is Hope.

Such is Hope.

This was everything I could do. Keep hope onto death itself in defiance of all reason and sound judgment. I can't allow myself to be ordinary if I want to ever escape this place. So I kept to my task and hoped it would eventually be enough to pay my freedom's price.

That is when it happened.

A defiant miracle imprinted itself upon the world, assembled from the shards of fallen stars to form a cosmic mosaic - a living constellation. The light spelled out his deed. Through the enlightened awareness of my divine daemon, the heavenly Muse keeper of my virtuous heart, I could see it. Glory written in the stars.

********************************


** MEGUMI CURSE EATER **


********************************

It echoed through all cities of men and far, far beyond it. Further than even their perceptions stretched to the right ears. It carried over the lands. It carried across the seas. And even beyond it.

No man was deaf enough to miss it as it reached up to Raging Heaven itself. Even though its answer will always be the very same.

It was somewhat tragic yet I couldn't help but smile. As a father, I couldn't be prouder. My boy a hero! he truly lived to his name.

More than that. I stand validated. It is the uncertainty that kills a man.

Sometimes everything a person needed was an example to inspire them.

You have lazed around for long enough, don't you think?

I certainly can't afford to let my brat show me up like that. I will never hear the end of it from Gojo otherwise!

Violet heat surged to life behind my eyes and spilled forth in a torrent.

********************************


** ZAGREUS FREES HOPE ONTO THE WORLD**


********************************

I burned.



-//-

[AUTHOR'S ROOM]

Yeah, plot twist. The Heroic Realm is actually the oldest, older than the Sophic and Tyrant Realm by a fair margin. How the sophic came to be placed below it is up in the air but nothing stops someone that doesn't know any better from skipping it either.

Sukuna bit more than he could shew this time around, or rather Zagreus up bring caused Megumi to inherit Bakkahos' iron stomach. So, in fact, Sukuna turned out to be less of an indigestion than he thought himself as. Rather ironic, but enough of spoilers for now.
 
JJK 9
"Hey, Megumi-chan! I'm so glad you finally came to spend some quality time with your big brother! I could cry! You finally came back to the Gojo clan where you belong." Gojo says while spinning melodramatically while fake blowing his nose in a napkin.

"Am I whose little brother now!?" Megumi answers in indignation.

"Ha!" Satoru cried while holding his hands to his chest as if hurt, "Your tenure among the savages of the Zenin clan had made you into a delinquent! Sorry, sensei. I have failed you!" To empathize, Gojo cries in his sleeve like an abused single mother.

"Oi. Are you picking a fight?"

"Has anyone ever said to you that you sound just like Zagreus when you are angry? The new hairstyle just drives the point home." Gojo answered with a toothy smile.

It grated Megumi how his self-appointed big brother knew just what to say to mollify him. After the juvenile detention incident, Megumi and Tsumiki woke up to realize part of their hair had turned the royal blue that Zagreus displayed. What he once mentioned as the marking bearing by new blood of a Higher Power. The side effect of his starlight marrow overdrive.

Tsumiki herself got a beautiful curtain of blue inside her normal jet black, creating the illusion the color changes depending on the angle. Megumi as always got the short end of the stick and ended up with the top of his head bright blue. Only Itadori liked it and he is suspect due to the fact they now matched.

He is so getting back at his old man once he is found!

"Hehe. It suits you indeed. Feeling the pressure after Yuji showed you up during the jujutsu chunin exam?"

"Don't call it that."

"I don't know. It's kind of fits. Plus, it was Zagreus who coined this term."

Of course he did.

"Beggars can't be choosers, plus things have become quite heated in the Zenin clan?"

"Anything I should know about?" Despite the light tone, it wasn't a suggestion.

Naoya pretty much tried to kill him, for once. "I had a disagreement with Naoya so Naobito-san thought it best to get me out of his hair until things simmered down." He owned the man to not tattle his dirt laundry to his official biggest rival. He already has his hands full managing that mad house. No wonder he drinks like Zagreus had in those memories when he was trying to drown himself in the bottom of his cup.

"Is that so?"

"Yes."

"Really, really?"

"Really, really."

"Pink promise?"

"What are you, a child?!"

"Well, okay then. Not like I would skip this opportunity. It is pretty rare for you to demand training. So, what do you want to start with?"

"Be my safety net while I tame Mahoraga," I said as seriously as I could.

"You serious?" There is no longer any humor in his voice and his glasses fell to his nose, revealing his piercing eyes.

"We are not doing this again. I know the risk but… I am not blind. Things are rather tense. Everywhere. I know protecting the youth is pretty much your virtue, but I have no intention of hiding behind your skirt."

"Don't misunderstand, Megumi. I am happy that you finally are taking jujutsu seriously but to be honest I didn't expect you to be ready for it until you were at the peak of Sophic realm. Zagreus talked to me about what to expect, your split foundation would cause your virtue to behave like two different muscles. You could even advance as a philosopher and as a jujutsu sorcerer at different rates."

"…it is not like this topic never cropped up under our roof either. Zagreus… father laid to me my options as he knew them. But that is why I know there is no hard rule preventing me from taming Mahoraga. The records of the Zenin clan conveyed extensive observations about every detail they had about it. I think I can do it?"

"You think? Do you want to gamble your life on basic feelings?

"I can do it. I need to. It is not like my enemies will wait for me to master cultivation… plus you can always blow it up with one attack so I can retry."

"And who is treating things like a video game again?"

"I know, but… when I was born the gods gave me a weapon. That is how Zagreus defined the ten shadows. I have to master it before anything else as if it was my own body. I even understand your pride as the one that pioneered the equivalent to the Sophic Realm for sorcerers, but Mahoraga is the only thing that will allow me to follow you on the incoming stage."

"And this has nothing to do with Tsumiki resolution to fight alongside you?"

"… it might be partially responsible, yes."

"Well, at least you are honest. I think I do owe you an explanation about the poor shit show the supposed leaders of jujutsu society have displayed lately. Come in."

-//-


RECORD OF THE INCIDENT ON OCTOBER 31, 2018 AT 7:00 P.M.


A curtain with a 400-meter radius as cast centered at the Tokyo Department Store Toyoko branch.


-//-

"So, it finally started. How sure are you of this, Geto?"

"You aren't the only one that grew up, Satoru. I long have mastered means to use my cursed spirits to remote surveillance. The Vulcan head-cursed spirit, the plant-cursed spirit, and the patch face are all working with the responsible for Zagreus's disappearance. And while they don't coordinate directly with the higher-ups it is clear that among these curse users helping them, we will find the missing link from the Kamo family."

After the fiasco at the detention center, Gojo took Geto on a world tour collecting powerful special-grade spirits he found while searching for Zagreus. After his first fight with Jogo and summary rescue by the tree-cursed spirit inadvertently gave Geto means to plausible deniability. During Nanami's attack against the students, Geto released two of his foreign special grades against the Kamo clan.

This gambit paid off. They unearthed the forbidden fruits from the late Yaga's breaking through in corpse manipulation.

Zagreus had mentioned his concept only once, but there was so much venom in it Gojo knew to be wary. Human Hydra – a chimera born of the successful fusion (marriage?) of the bodies between compatible souls. It seemed like the current generation picked up the macabre bad habits of their most infamous ancestor, Noritoshi Kamo.

The 'successful' samples were things of nightmare, powerful enough to give pause to the average sorcerer with its multiple cursed techniques. Worst of all was the hint of left-over rhetoric so unlike Zagreus's own. There is zero chance of being him, thankfully, due to the fact whoever was behind this had privileged access to his research on the soul and its qualifications.

They were attempting to recreate Zagreus's unique soul pattern comprised of eleven specific souls. Zagreus would never do such a thing, this is something Gojo knows with authority. While his six eyes had noticed his unusual aura years ago Zagreus had always been close-lipped about this topic. The only answer he got was haunted by a cursed festival, not unlike a jar of poison ritual.

Chances are the one responsible for our grief is a blast from Zagreus's past or some immortal sorcerer. Either way, when you add to it the patch-face cursed spirit army of transfigured humans it becomes clear what he had to expect.

Whoever was behind this would spring their all-out assault here. This was a trap- no, a war. Naobito Zenin was summoned for this operation but he failed to appear and is not picking up the phone either… he is most likely dead. It seemed like Shibuya really would become a battlefield so he gathered his army.

This is a pincer attack, that is why he took the liberty to gather his own army. The grade-one sorcerers on his corner have received the heads up to the incoming trouble. Geto is the king piece of the board, it wouldn't surprise Gojo any if they tried to kill him to release all his curses on Shibuya, that is why he is getting VIP treatment.

Now Gojo would be the queen piece, the strongest piece used as a sacrifice too tempting to ignore.

He would turn the trap right back on them!

A part of him felt sorry for putting Megumi through all that pointless training for him to just sit this one out but this is different from the normal job as a sorcerer. That is why all juniors are being put on the back, where Yuki can keep an eye on them. Nobody is allowed to take away the youth from the young.

That includes my cute little third-year students as well, Hakari and Yuta are strong. So, it was best to have them leading their juniors out of danger while we adults take on the heavy burden.

Hopefully, by the end of it, Zagreus will be back so at least Megumi will have something cool to show off.

-//-

[FUKUTOSHIN LINE PLATFORM, 8:40 P.M. TOKYO METRO B5F]

"Oy, oy, oy! Are you kidding me?" Gojo says while pulling away his headband. Zagreus once mentioned that his Six Eyes granted him the privileged perspective above his station, equivalent to his captain of the Sophic Realm. It was more like he had a hero's discerning eyes, maybe even further.

That is why he could not dismiss the bull shit he was seeing. He knew from Nanami's report that the Patch-face cursed spirit, Mahito, was trouble. His speed of growth was alarming. And from what he was seeing someone else took notice of it as well.

Even a beast can grasp virtue and cultivate by eating, humans as well, it is our lowest nature commonly shared. What is preventing a cursed spirit from doing the same?

In the same way, the Six Eyes allow me to see the Parthenon Zagreus built inside his soul as a monument to virtue, and being witness to the ten towering loading bearing principles that sustain it… and their sinister sin behind their grandeur.

Accursed is the cannibal.

The teacher I respect the most in the world told me gravely, like a ruined drunk warding off a boy from his first cup of wine. He confided in me how it was something unknowingly forced upon him when he was nothing but a citizen. The monstrous 'festival' of Fear and Hunger promoted by uncaring Higher Powers at the expense of mortals.

Zagreus confined all deepest secrets of the soul to me in the Hope I would find a divergent path from the one he had been unknown set in the invisible hand of a god. It was different from the expectation of being the strongest.

It was a choice, a new option paid for with the suffering of one who charted the unknown dark and bore the scars to prove it.

In all my privileged life I had never once been cursed with a choice before. My path had been set to the peak since the day I had been born.

He invests in me the privilege and responsibility to shape the future by charting the path for those who will come after. This was a happiness that shocked the very core of my [Endless Soul]. I knew then and there how to make a more humane path toward a brighter future.

This didn't mean the option Zagreus tried to bury and hide wouldn't still be available for those daring and wicked enough to fest on the totality of another's soul to the point of denying them an afterlife. It was like that curse was created just to offend him on the deepest level possible!

This goes beyond sinking your teeth into another's influence, the little punishment game we did to tally the score of victory and defeat against each other. What he called the trial of Hunger. The shame in Zagreus's eyes was more than enough to drive it home. There are lines humans shouldn't cross.

And now this upstart little shit dares to unearth said secret and darken Zagreus's legacy forever more! A foundation made from [Changeling soul] marred by the fear and hate humans bear toward each other is decorated with fourteen macabre totems made from still screaming amalgamations of souls from all know types arranged in a perfect symmetry of dread.

He is powerful in ways even he couldn't understand yet the battlefield itself serves to make up for his inexperience. I am in my element when I am alone, this is my [Curse]. One of the ten that define the existence is known as [Satoru Gojo]. Abiding in them grant great strength, even serving as leveraging points to widen the interpretation of my innate technique, but defying them compromise said strength.

Curses and blessings are fundamentally the same, especially when gods are involved.

"What are you smiling for? You won't live to see another day. Didn't I make it clear when I killed your Vulcan head and the tree-hugger friends of yours? Or do you think that the third time is the charm?"

"Jogo and Nanami's sacrifices were all for this moment, Satoru Gojo. Let me show you what a true curse is made of!" His influence rises up like a chaotic hurricane made of thousand-thousand tortured cries, every unaware sleeping soul of the countless unwitty hostages caught in the riptide of his influence were instantly turned into transfigured humans… Zagreus probably would be able to save them through the reversal of the moonscorch virtuous technique but I can't gamble on it.

"Is that so?" I spread the wings of my own influence, and the purity of purpose and [direction] of Endless Soul stop the advance of Patch-face's tide-cursed energy could like it was a wall, coating the unaware civilians in a mantle of inviolable infinity.

The boundaries of my soul are clearly defined, marking the shape of my [Mandala Intention]. I have been trained to surpass monsters like Mahito born out of unholy soul desecration. By knowing the nature of the soul, it becomes easier to bid it to multiply by following its intended direction. It even allows for the development of an innate domain and virtuous technique/innate technique, the semantics being secondary to the fact they are the purest form of self-expression.

The multitude of souls may grant multiple excellencies but balancing them in a stable way is difficult. Only [idle transfiguration] would allow for it to bid his soul to multiply in such a reckless manner. But this is not enough.

[Nobody is allowed to take away the youth from the young.] I summon the Curse of my Blue Spring. The ever-recurring theme of my life which I return to again and again, staying the same as others move on and grow for both better and for worse.

The blue I summon doesn't manifest compression of space, but time by means of expanding the interpretation of my [Limitless]. Mahito became a sitting duck, stuck by a sphere of time dilation, all his alacrity made useless by his over-bloated soul, he is still incomplete like a cursed womb. Compared to the ordered and perfectly streamlined foundation of Zagreus, he is still too new to his new power.

Time to end this, and Gojo has all the time in the world to be thorough.

"Nine points. Polarized Light. Crow and Shomyo chant. The gap between within and without."


[HOLLOW TECHNIQUE: PURPLE!]



Blue is still blue, and I can still use it as a foundation for my strongest technique. Mahito was literally deleted from existence, I had struck both his body, soul, and innate domain. What Zagreus called the shattering of the ego.

Mahito was erased without a trace. A monster like that could not be allowed to live… and yet.

A blade made of flesh endowed with the puissance of [Endless soul] cut through my infinity, it is the instinctive familiarity of pitching myself against Zagreus in his heroic and tyrant timing that allowed me to adjust my infinity into a compressed shield to overwhelm said attack to a dead stop.

I turn toward the resurging Mahito. "Ha! You blocked even that! He wasn't kidding when he said you were that strong!"

"Trying to buy time? What a childish trick! I already saw through your trick. [Rewind], all events that happen in the past become undone, replacing those with events that didn't happen for the scenario to be applied in the present."

The way Mahito withered was all the confirmation he needed.

"Did you really think I would trip up over some Causality manipulation? Whoever trained you knew Zagreus was limited by the boundaries of the rules of nature and used you as a guinea pig in an experiment to surpass him by subverting the Samsara that governs the Wheel Turning.

"You underestimate me at your own peril, cursed spirit! Within the cool down of this technique, I can easily destroy you!"

Mahito believed it too, taking distance while commanding his transfigured humans to attack me. The situation is made worse by the train filled to the brim with transfigured humans heading this way. What an annoying bastard.

This will take longer than I thought. Worse, he is evolving at a scary speed as well. A sacrificial paw or plot to make me lower my guard?

-//-

"Why did you separate from Shoko, Tsumiki? Are you tempting the fates?" Megumi protested.

"Tall talk coming from my baby brother I surpass in cultivation. The last time I lost sight of you, you almost died! This whole mission is set to go fubar from the start. This time I will protect you without failure." Tsumiki retorts.

"You? Protecting me?" Megumi asks in incredulity.

"Okay, Yuji-kun. Why don't we give them some space? Family businesses are no one else's business!" Yuki says while dragging Yuji along while he watches fascinated as the siblings verbally tear each other apart, paying no mind to their audience.

"Stop being selfish, Tsumiki! You can do a lot more by helping from the hear than you ever would as a front-linker. You aren't cut for it!"

"Look who is talking. Do you really think you could ever beat me right now? I am literally worth five of you put together!" Tsumiki retorts, mentioning her standing as a 4th rank philosopher. Over the two years since Zagreus's disappearance, she has grown on her own to fill his shoes and her last confrontation with the autonomous cursed corpses awakened her starlight marrow same as him.

"You know standing isn't everything! You are no good at martial cultivation! I can, indeed, hand your ass to you." Megumi retorts venomously.

"You dare Megumi? I am more than happy to have a trial of spirit right here, right now, then!"

"Interesting," a baritone and sinister voice make itself know. "Why don't you let me test it then?"

Megumi felt a chill run down his spine and a lead weight drop in his gut; he could never forget this voice and the sinister cursed energy associated with it. He turned to he the King of Curses had somehow taken over Sukuna and his power was overwhelming, almost double of Zagreus. Far more than the four fingers he previously had. Eighteen, nineteen maybe?

Not only that, the world literally fell around his ears as thousands of cursed energy signatures flared to life lit a true festival of the underworld. What the hell was happening? And where the hell is Yuki?!

Tsumiki made good of her previous words, with a flick of her hand she leveraged her rhetoric to slam me with an invisible unrelenting force that dragged me away from the line of sight of Sukuna. The previously dormant starlight marrow flares to live at full throttle once again, giving Megumi the sharpness of sight to follow their exchange even as his body struggled to keep it up.

With his pneumatic sense, Megumi saw a hundred invisible blades close in on Tsumiki from all sides. Zagreus could have dodged this but her sister can't. His heart felt like bursting from his chest as his sister was cut down right before his eyes… yet, Tsumiki is a philosopher, and her rhetoric is as profound for a citizen such as himself as the clouds in the sky.

Despite his common sense telling him Sukuna's overwhelming output should have diced her into ribbons, she endured his assault with nothing but shallow cuts to show for it. She her hand forward, attacking the flabbergasted King of Curses with her manifested Ivy intention, gripping his arm and snaking it up to his neck.

Leveraging the rules of nature, the very concept of Motion, she closes in on Sukuna with speed that outstrips her standing to knock Sukuna's teeth to the back of his mouth with the power of our shared foundational virtuous technique.

Sukuna didn't stop his slash barrage at any moment yet Tsumiki injuries closed themselves off just as quickly as Sukuna delivered them. That is when it clicks, [Achile's package]! The control over the principle of Motion grants supernatural speed and an inviolable body. Only Gojo-sensei ever injured Zagreus as far as Megumi knew, the fact Sukuna was brute forcing his way through it shows he is a monster of the same weight class. No wonder Tsumiki was so confident previously.

And that is why she put herself between the two of us. Tsumiki's first principle.

[With the time I have to curse someone, I would rather think about people precious to me.]

Sukuna cuts through her Ivy intention but the severed vine tightens around his arm and sinks its teeth into his cursed energy, glooming as his arm withers and rots away through the power of the Wheel Turning. He first motioned to rip it away then think better of it and abort his move, severing his arm with his own cursed technique. Tsumiki exploits this moment of indecision and vulnerability for all that it is worth it to close in and they both punch each other with everything they had.

As the two are pushed away from each other, half of Sukuna's face is rotten off and Tsumiki is literally puking her guts out.

This entire exchange happened in the time it took him to raise his arms up to summon Mahoraga. Megumi knew he wasn't qualified to enter this battlefield, but even then, this wasn't news. He would not abandon Tsumiki! He would rather die!

"WITH THIS TREASURE I SUMMON EIGHT-HANDLED SWORD DIVERGENT SILA DIVINE GENERAL MAHORAGA!"

-//-

Mahito shot his mutated arm forward like a barrage of lances as new limbs grew from each other like cancer. This forced Gojo to evade but his main target was the civilians blind to his presence. He impaled them, breaching the veil of protection and protecting them from his Idle Transfiguration.

He was evolving fast but Gojo comes closer and closer to nail the Achille's heel of his causality manipulation through each interaction. Mahito was running out of time and pushed into a corner. His prepared army of autonomous cursed corpses was summarily crushed by a wall of Blue Lapse stationed at the rails just before in embarked. Every new inventive attack is brushed aside with contemptuous ease and he was both, running out of cursed energy and losing control of himself as the souls he consumed went berserk.

"Five seconds, that is how much you can rewind time and rewrite events. Did you really think you were at my level because of it? It is nothing but an annoyance since you can only affect yourself." Gojo lectures as he shoots down the transfigured humans with mini blue spheres that compress the transfigured humans into the size of a pinball once they enter their bodies, exploiting the same rules Mahito did which state a person's body works like a domain. Cleaning the house while scaring the unaware civilians away from their confrontation.

"Everything I have to do is react during the moment when the changed past meets with the present. You are running out of cursed energy and your soul is fraying. You are nothing but a distraction, how dull."

"Aaahhhhh!" Mahito screams as the shadow of his impending death pushes him over the edge, granting him the insight of the truest essence of his being. "Instant Spirit Body of Distorted Killing!" he screams triumphantly as asserts control over his self and ascends to a new state, his flesh morphing to match his enlightened state of being.

At the same time, Mahito felt the urgency of countless signatures showing that Yuki's plan was finally in motion. He couldn't help but smile. "How the tables have turned, Gojo Satoru. What are you going to do now? Help your friends or exorcise me?"

"Hm, ha ha ha. You speak as if it was even a question. You are the source of the army of autonomous cursed corpses, you have to die tonight for this war to truly end. Leaving you be would give you time to feast on the souls of the civilians, a pathetic ploy for a second wind." The smile on Gojo's face was truly cruel then, a promise of murder. "Let me enlighten you before you die. What true jujutsu looks like."

"Domain Envelopment: Unlimited Void!"

Mahito's innate technique allows him to see and interact with souls, be it his own or that of others. That is why he understood what was truly happening as Gojo's flesh unraveled to reveal the monster within, using his own body as the canvas to manifest his innate domain in reality. Mahito knew then and there he was looking at self-expression of perfection he himself was too tainted by foreign souls ever match. The narrower the path, the further it goes. Like a tower piercing the heavens instead of a tsunami blanketing the earth.

And as the keystone of this heaven-violating monument is a foundation of longing.

Saudade – a mix of nostalgia, yearning, and fondness.

You can love a flower in full bloom but you cannot ask it to understand you. That is the one feeling that crosses the chasm separating Gojo Satoru and everyone else.

The virtue that strives for a perpetual blue spring.

Gojo no longer looked anything resembling a human being, more like an Old Testament angel, not that he could ever contextualize. Gojo had become a truly ineffable existence to all who behold him. Not that Mahito could tell, the moment he crossed his gaze with Gojo's he was trapped by its endless possibilities in a torrent of information.

"By all means, be afraid!" Somehow Mahito was still allowed to think to himself that Gojo was somehow smiling. The smile of a true curse.

This was his last thought.

-//-

Despite our early argument, Tsumiki and Megumi are no strangers to fighting side by side. One of the lessons imparted to them was the cost of true cooperation between souls, and how difficult it is the higher a cultivator grown into a uniquely excellent existence.

Now they test this lesson for all that it is worth against the king of curses.

If Megumi would be honest, he has no place here. He managed to tame Mahoraga by the skin of his teeth, bending the rules of the exorcism to their breaking point and making a mockery of it by cheesing the fight by perfecting his domain through trial and error until he could one shot it after Gojo confirmed Mahoraga doesn't keep his adaptation from previously exorcism attempts.

It is okay though, sorcerers are scan artists. There are only victors and defeated at the end of the day.

He is not arrogant enough to think he can win a clash of domains with the king of curses. Not until Mahoraga has adapted Sukuna's technique. As he couldn't even keep up, he subjected himself to supporting Tsumiki and Mahoraga with rabbit escape and Chimera beast Agito while keeping himself safe inside shadows, cheap shooting Sukuna with piercing water wherever he saw an opening.

It would be nostalgic if it wasn't so damn terrifying. Sukuna definitely trying to kill Tsumiki but he never once attacked me with anything but crippling blows. He is getting more and more impatient as the battle progresses though, as if he was the one running out of time. Even though Tsumiki was the one being pushed to the brink of what father's starlight marrow can bring out.

They had no chance of reinforcements tough. Shibuya became a pandemonium as open warfare seemed to have taken over every street they came across. From jujutsu sorcerers to cursed spirits, curse users, cursed corpses to members of the jujutsu family. Everyone seems to have chosen Shibuya as the place where they would settle their differences. And Sukuna was crushing them like ants in his wake.

That is when Sukuna had enough. The melody of his heart told me he was uncertain about it even as it promised destruction on a unparalleled level.

"Domain Expansion: -

Megumi emerges from the shadow ready for a desperate clash with Sukuna empowered by some binding vow, when Tsumiki tackled him with Gojo-like speed, trying to escape the King of Curses' range in a mad dash.

Malevolent Shrine!"

That was when the world was undone, the last thing he saw was his shikigami closing in on Sukuna. It was as if the world was being disintegrated, a giant cloud of smoke overtook Shibuya just centimeters from the two siblings.

Tsumiki reached her limits, stumbling at such terminal speed she had to use her body to shield Megumi as the two skipped over the pavement like a stone throw across a lake, sparkles flying high with each contact.

Megumi was the first to recompose himself as he persisted in watching Sukuna's grim work. He was still standing with difficulty as the whiplash from Tsumiki's mad dash fissured his spine, and he had to reset some bones and fingers. Yet a surge of hope overtook him when he saw Mahoraga emerging from Sukuna's domain expansion.

That was when he hit him with a fire arrow so powerful the world was engulfed in flames.

This… was so fucking unfair!

Tsumiki! He has to take his sister and run.

He turned toward her, and that is when Megumi found himself face to-face with Sukuna himself. He grabbed me by the jaw and forced one severed finger down Megumi's gullet, forcing him to swallow it. As the finger went down Megumi's throat, Yuji's connection to Sukuna's soul was severed as it found a new 'vessel'. Sukuna's cursed energy surged as he seized control and wrested Megumi's soul back, making him a prisoner in his own body.

Megumi spoke with a voice not his own, "Didn't I tell you, brat? We would see something interesting." Sukuna gloated from inside Megumi's flesh, rejoicing in his victory.

Yuji's face spoke of the desperation of becoming the instrument of such devastation and the death of his friend. Sukuna was about to kill him when he was cut off by a hysteric cry of euphoria from Tsumiki Fushigure.

She was laughing. Laughing at him. Her eyes spoke of cathartic release from worry at the same time she told the King of Curses he was the butt of this joke.

That moment of utter confusion at her bolt of madness was preceded by a feeling of foreboding dread.

That was when a sound like shattering glass came from within Megumi's soul, followed by a ravenous flame sinking its teeth on his soul, seizing his cursed energy a crushing it underfoot, dousing the King of Curse's taint from within.

Sukuna screamed.

-//-

Dignitas.

Or, as simplified by modern lingo, dignity.

The right of a person to be valued and respected for their own sake, and to be treated ethically. It is of significance in morality, ethics, law, and politics as an extension of the Enlightenment-era concepts of inherent, inalienable rights. The term may also be used to describe personal conduct, as in "behaving with dignity".

Megumi Fushiguro who experienced the deprivation involved in being an unwanted child, looked down on with either pity or scorn by strangers for being a helpless burden on society, had the meaning of this virtue carved into his soul for as long as he could understand the world for what it was.

It was simple, really. As the best and most profound truths tend to be. When something is parsed clearly it can be understood even by a fool.

The basis of human interaction was avoiding violating someone else's dignity. The most basic rule to get along with strangers can be described as reciprocity.

'I will not kill you, so please, don't kill me either.'

From this humble spring, all social contracts follow. You expand from 'kill' to whatever more you want, through this process both parties can make this 'rule' a reality. Like a binding vow.

Of course, rules are only real if breaking them carries consequences.

Megumi is sure those who break said rules or act arrogant enough to think themselves above it are living a rose-colored existence where they do scarcely anything but exist in revel and jubilation of their perceived power and sense of self-importance.

That is why he will kill any and all such individuals every time he comes across them. Sure, he never killed anyone, but this is due to his own subscription to the rules of society more than anything else. He will make the treat and mean every word spoken, so far nobody has ever tested his limit. A little bit of pain was all it took.

Megumi Fushiguro is someone incapable of forgiveness. Both Zagreus and Tsumiki endorse this antisocial trait as the expression of his kindness.

They affirm his character. His dignity as a person is wanted and appreciated.

The King of Curses is not like most people. He exists in the same that uniquely excellent existences such as Satoru Gojo and his adopted father exist.

If he wanted to defeat him then he could not allow himself to be ordinary!

No. To begin with, Ryoma Sukuna intends to violate his captain's virtue by taking over his body and enslaving his soul with a bitten bridle.

He would rather be dead this suffer this humiliation! The virtue inside his soul would not allow it!

In a confrontation between cultivators of virtue, the monument cultivators built inside their souls could be broken down like any other man-made wonder. Done properly, with the right intent, for the right reasons, pushed by the right motivations you could even do it to yourself.

Megumi has a split foundation. Half Greek cultivator, half jujutsu sorcerer. His innate domain is a mess split down the middle, apart a foundation enforced on him by the curse of the Zenin clan, another a foundation made from materials he searched and built from truths he internalized and tempered in light of the greater natural mystery endowed to him.

Cultivation is a self-expression of the self. A split foundation is either the source or manifestation of a split Ego. Only a fool would take this lightly and ever since Zagreus grew aware of it when Megumi's cursed technique manifested, he treated this as a serious medical condition.

Through early instruction, he was always taught to never let these two circuits crosswire themselves. They are like two different muscles and this situation is risky enough as it was due to its rarity and chaotic circumstances. In the worst case, if a demon were to be born out of his heart, Megumi could be forced into doing away with one-half of everything that he was in order to keep on living.

He had to make sure the break would be as clean as possible.

He was told what to expect. As the soul sheds off the walls of his innate domain, an immense amount of spiritual energy would be released. Shedding either internalized truth that directs said principle or the binding ancestral curse as it is unraveled, releasing the accrued energy that makes said network function. A tired exhalation capable of filling the air with nearly as much vitality as a newly minted hero would emit during his ascension.

Zagreus, reliable as always in his crooked sort of side-ways manner, instructed how Megumi could get his life indemnity in case he was to be forced into this situation.

Divine Dividing - ascension is a provocation of natural law, in order to successfully bid your soul multiply to surpass a thousand men put together, heaven demands a thousand men fall in turn.

Ascension and fall are chained together.

You are born again.

The world is… better.

No longer dimly lit by cruelly burnished bronze, it's lit by defiance of noble souls. The lands are defined by great men and great women, cultivated as you cultivate your vines. Among them you find friends. Among them you find brothers.

One among them is your favorite.

You have nothing you can give him in support but your own senselessly beating heart, and so you do. He takes even that and improves it. While it beats in his chest, it burns. It takes on his shade. It becomes something glorious. It becomes something triumphant.

For the first time, you feel something in the senseless beating of your heart. You experience passion.


This is Megumi's trump card. He reached back to it and pulled the way a trapped would dog chew on his own limb for the sake of preserving his life, his loved ones, and his virtue.

For the sake of his dignity.

As the ancestral curse of the Ten Shadows unraveled, deafening him as it crumbled, he gathered it all and used it as tinder. He hoped the starlight marrow endowed to him by his adoptive father, a force of unstoppable refinement capable of facilitating any purpose as long he knew what he wanted. Where he was headed.

His goal was simple, if Sukuna liked human meat so much then he shouldn't complain about what happens when he is the one being eaten.

Time to reenact a time-honored family tradition.

[This son of raging heaven in hunger will devour you!]

Megumi sank the teeth of his influence on Sukuna's soul. It provided the spark needed by Megumi to lit his own virtuous spirit from within.

Megumi burned and kept burning. With the conviction, he would rather die than live another instant as a prisoner in his own flesh. He would rather die than allow the King of Curses free reign over the mortal world through his body.

Once Greek fire started burning it won't go out until it reduced everything it touched to cinders.

Megumi gambled it all on a miracle.

When a man was born, the Fates wove his destiny and swaddled him in it. Your reality was fixed. Whether you were the lowest of the low Citizenry, or a captain of the Sophic realm, the ceiling was the same.

It might as well be his destiny to become Sukuna's vessel. So his only hope is to break free from it entirely.

The line between mortality and divinity was drawn at the precipice of the Heroic Realm. In defiance of preordained fate, a cultivator reaches beyond their mortal standing to grasp the first handhold of their brazen epic, breaking free from the constraints of destiny that chain every man and woman like a shacked ball and chain.

Megumi barreled head first over the macabre monument to [Evil] the King of Cursed built inside his soul, his innate domain. He burned his life away and made himself a lion capable of enduring the worst retaliations the king of cursed could throw at him. And he ate.

Megumi spread the wings of his influence and sank them into Sukuna, breaking them underfoot and tearing them apart like strips of flesh.

Sukuna's cursed energy should be all right to overwhelm his infant soul but the flames of his life gave him all the [time] he needed to digest the King of Curses. He didn't care if he died. Gojo's final lesson reverberated in his mind. Every sorcerer dies with regrets and alone. If he could just stop Sukuna from harming his friends and family by his life's price then he would happily make this trade without regrets. Even if he died alone, it was fine. Every man stands alone when ascending the stairs toward raging heaven. ****************************** ** MEGUMI CURSE EATER ** ****************************** -//- [AUTHOR'S ROOM] Yeah, so I got sick and his chapter got relayed. Fortunately, I recovered. Now we see how Gojo's refinement differs from a normal Sophic. While Zagreu's influence is obvious, it was more restrained and directed. Kenjaku's plan for Mahito was good but he lacked contest of Zagreus' final goal for Gojo's refinement. We also see how Megumi skipped an entire realm. There were a lot of moving parts to it, but he attempted to use Mahoraga about eight times in cannon. He would not hesitate to pull a stunt like that if Tsumiki's life was on the line.[/time]
 
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JJK 10
Out of the ten shikigami born out of the shadow cast by the ten pillars of loading bearing principle of my soul, the [Tyrant Raptor] shikigami is a murder machine of mathematical perfection. Taking the form of a vermilion cybernetic drake, it is a nuclear jet fighter capable of reaching up to Mach 7, surpassing any aircraft created by human hands. Born from the excellence of the [Dominating soul], it carries the element of fire. This manifests as a passionate flame that is stroked by Will to Power.

An extremely convenient thing to have when you find yourself submerged eight thousand meters below the surface, inside Japan's trench, surrounded by cursed spirits and a second matrix of cursed seals. Kenjaku is full of shit! No way he could ever recover me from down here! Especially when he goes out of his way to exploit a cultivator's universal weakness, our need to breathe.

What is far less useful is the fucking divine lightning bolt smiting me from heaven all the way down here! The only saving grace is the fact it reoriented my sense of direction, so I at least knew where to go to reach the surface.

I stroked my heart flame, throwing ten years of my life as kindling and literally driving the storm, so to speak. I had prepared myself my entire life for this, to face the storm. Tribulations are the most important part. Rather than flinching away, I threw myself against the storm, determined to 'catch it with my teeth', to engrave this power in my body.

My Tyrant Raptor cut through the deep-sea water pressure as if it wasn't even there at all. Truth doesn't need to be complex to be profound, the shikigami's soul simplicity grants it clarity of purpose. Its own inner flames were being stroked by its defiance even as the tribulation lightning singed both of our bodies. Worse, as a being born out of my shadow its composition is reinforced by my own body's information but in exchange part of the damage it incurs passes on to me through resonance. As I used two hundred hands of intent to manifest it, the rate of damage transference is almost one-to-one.

It is like being hit by tribulation lightning twice. If I had been as I was before my ascension this blow would have killed me, no doubt about it. But I was no longer mortal and so it raging heaven failed to strike me down for my hubris. The body of a hero can withstand the assault of monsters and fellow legends alike, and those tempered by sour wine from the cup of the Tyrant Riot are sturdier than most.

Before long the oppressive darkness of the deep sea gave way to the musk light of the open sea until finally, I was greeted by the celestial dance of starry heaven for the first time in more than one year.

It was beautiful.

I could feel the moisture in my eyes unrelated to my unexpected scuba dive, all the feelings I suppressed for the sake of my duties rushing to me at once. I tried to suppress it as usual but my fresh entrance into the Realm of Passion left me unprepared for the new emotional deep my soul could reach.

My love for Yuki, Tsukimi, Megumi, and my students only grew despite our separation… together with my hatred!

I threw another week of my life into the flames, giving me time to spin the star-like wheel matrix of pneumatic chambers carved in my chest. Despite knowing what to expect the power of a heroic realm was awe-inspiring. I watched as my flesh mended, the damage incurred by raging heaven vanishing as if it were a shallow encounter against an open flame. If I had taken one week to rest and recuperate, I would be as refreshed as I find myself right now. The burns and nerve damage vanished as if they had never been there.

More than that, the starlight flowing in my veins did remake me stronger than I was. Exploring and pushing the new heights of my newfound standing and semi-divinity to its limit.

Argyrchiara, I called the inner muse keeper of my heart, the voice coming from the core of my soul. My silver bright divine daemon, the manifestation of my soul's highest aspirations.

morgan le fay and morgan le fay (fate and 1 more) drawn by mizunagi_ryuu

Words like beautiful or stunning simply fell short, Argyrchiara (Silver Bright) was… real in a way that I didn't think I could ever be, despite being both ethereal and a part of my soul still. The world itself takes on a vibrant silver sheen by the grace of her presence, driving home Bakkhos' melancholy at the diminishment of the world – would that I was not among the men of the fifth generation, but either had died before or been born afterwards, for now truly is a race of iron – in comparison my muse was like the blessed spirits of the underworld, and, though they are of second order compared to the Golden Age, yet honor attends her still.

How dull, she intoned with a monotonous disinterested cadence. You should know better as my other polar extremity of our shared soul. I offer neither absolution nor [salvation] for this is your provenance, for I am [despair] itself. She complains with a sweet melody of a voice that somehow is as rash as the embodiment of winter. I knew she was right. She is the incarnation of everything about myself that was to be discarded and buried in darkness as I formed my personality in my formative years. It's only natural that we reintegrate by sharing different aspects of the same Virtue.

Even so, I have to try, people are in danger. My children and students are in trouble. I insist and she relents with a resigned sign.

We are truly hopeless in that regard. Very well, might as well see what you are made of. Just… hold your tears until after the battle is won. Even as Argyrchiara made her glom proclamation she comes closer, settling her crown of thorns over my brow and settling herself over my back to whisper he guidance to my ear.

What a citizen pays lip service to, a philosopher can picture in his mind's eye, but a hero can simply see. Archimedes developed the Golden Thread in the hope of unraveling the design of the fates, to predict the future by quantifying the present. If I had to describe what I was witnessing, it would be as if reality was a stage and I finally stole a peek at the backstage.

I saw it. Megumi's legend is proudly cast into the stars. He was supposed to be a plaything of destiny and become Sukuna's vessel. He ascended by overturning this fate, this turned what should be a losing battle in our favor. I couldn't be prouder.

He saved me.

Time to make it worthwhile. The violet flame behind my eyes flared with pride and affection and I burned away more of my life to give my mount the celerity to follow the silver path laid before me. I spread the wings of my influence in an outpour of glory as I charged headfirst into the battle to come.

-//-

The Lightning bolt struck Megumi with all the fury of Raging Heaven. Heaven's answer to the hubris of creatures of a day reaching above the station assigned to them by the Fates. Its power seared the sight of all who witnessed it and flung all mortals aside in the gale of the storm.

Ironic then, that as Sukuna was the one positioned at the front, his body and soul served as a figurative bulletproof vest insulating Shadow Rider Hero from heaven's retribution. Decisively ironic as Sukuna fully intended to use Megumi as such himself in his incoming fight against Gojo.

Tsumiki turned to the stunned, confused, and despairing Yuji Idatori. "Yuji, I read Nanami's report that you can target the soul. Listen, we have to attack. Megumi is in a tug-of-war with the King of Curses and any distraction helps. Can you still fight?" She questions as she heals him to the best of her ability with the Wheel Turning.

Yuji looks like his world is ending and he wants nothing more than to cry himself to sleep but he nods. With a silent signal, they charged the blackened and charred Sukuna while he was still stunned. And despite the apparent disparity between the two Yuji managed to keep pace with Tsumiki; if it was furry or the result of housing the King of Curses she couldn't say, but the result was the same.

Sukuna struggled and scrambled desperately under their assault as they pummeled him within an inch of his life, his cursed technique in cooldown after domain expansion. More noticeable, his cursed energy level plummeted constantly and so clearly even Yuji's crude senses could pick it up. Megumi was taking his pound of flesh.

The situation was just as precarious inside his innate domain.

"I am going to tear you up, gobble you down, shit you out and use you as fertilizer for my father's vines!" Megumi declares as his heart flame flares like beacons in the throes of his ascension, though the crazy smile, erratic movements, and red stains in his mouth going down his clothes from the chunks he bit out of Sukuna don't help. A certified Dionysus moment right there. Megumi had been overtaken by the euphoric enthusiasm of the god of madness.

Sukuna likely would have used this to his advantage by now if he wasn't currently fighting for his life as a pack of wolves made from Megumi's manifestation of Intent tore him up and pinned him down from all sides. Renting at his soul and cursed energy reserves.

As this fight went on, his power waned and declined as Megumi's only grew and deepened. For the first time in a thousand years, the King of Curses feared for his life. And the one tipping said scaled smiled smugly in his direction with a self-satisfied expression at odds with her charge's maniac outburst. Dressed in garbs darken than black, lush black hair that sucks all incoming light and adorned from head to toe with ten sacred treasures, the heavenly muse of Megumi Fushiguro's heart stands proud over him.

The [totality] of the ten shadows.

In order to gain something an equivalent sacrifice must be enacted. That is the most fundamental rule of jujutsu. This is Megumi's reward for his decisiveness, for picking for himself the path he is to walk at the expense of every other choice he previously had. A safety feature now turned into an exploit.

In a confrontation between two men, the one enjoying the guidance and counsel of heaven will have the advantage. Mahoraga's experience at Sukuna's hand is now being turned against the King of Curses as Takuhatachiji-Hime-no-Mikoto analyses and deconstructs his abilities and guides Megumi as to how he can overcome them. The power he coveted is being used against him, as she arms Megumi with her sacred panoply of treasures so her hero can finally put an end to his existence.

He has to turn things around before it is too late.

Back to real space, Megumi's tattoos fade away and his posture becomes less guarded and more relaxed as he turns toward his friends. "Nee-san, I-

That was as far as he went before Tsumiki kicked him in the mouth with such speed and power that some teeth went to the back of Megumi's throat. And just like that, the charade is broken, not that she saw through Sukuna's ploy, Tsumiki has simply been overcome by her emotion and the burning starlight marrow in her veins. A thoughtless act brought about by the sip of madness every Orphic mystic has to endure as they become drunk with the enthusiasm of their god.

In Tsumiki's defense, she is far from the first follower of Dionysus to harm a family member while under the god's sway. It probably saved her and Itadori's lives as well, as Sukuna's technique went back online. Alas, due to his diminished cursed energy output, he could not land a decisive blow without the element of surprise.

Despite Tsumiki's exhaustion and Yuji's inexperience, they both had more than enough enthusiasm to power through Sukuna's barrage of slashes like they were an annoyance to pummel him up some more for all the grief he forced them through. Megumi was of a similar mind, even as he behaved as if he had lost his own mind as he sank his fangs in Sukuna's influence and brought this underfoot.

That was when a thunderous machine-like roar cut through the chaos that overtook Shinjuku. That drove the Fushiguro siblings to pause as the unmistakable sound of one of Zagreus's shikigamis. Tsumiki started tearing up in relief and Megumi was shocked out of his mania by the good news.

Before Sukuna could take advantage of that a baritone gives him pause, "Honestly, I take my eyes off you for a moment and you go behind my back to get these ugly ass prison tattoos? Time for some tough parental love ministration! Grit your teeth, boy. This is going to hurt you more than me." Zagreus comments casually as his pneuma keeps on rising as he sheds glory in waves for the world to see, feel, and be awed.

-//-

It was sadly easy to find everyone.

Seriously, I left them unattended for one year just to get back to find the entire jujutsu society decided to clean their dirty laundry for the entire world to see in a civil war in the middle of Japan's biggest urban center. There is no keeping this secret after this.

As I have no idea whose side is at fault here, I will start with the ones slaughtering civilians. It was an eerie yet painfully familiar sight, yet…

This time it would be different. That is why I became a hero in the first place, the imperative of my soul demanded me to make right of what is wrong and crocked.

I swear to it!

From the top of my raptor, I summon the blade I share name and flesh with. Much like myself, it too had ascended to be a weapon worth of a hero. Using the operational principles behind blood manipulation to reshape it into a midnight bow as big as I was tall, I reached into my beating heart and procured from it an arrow made from its spirited flame.

With the sight of a hero, I observed the monsters made from the fusion of transfigured humans sharing high soul compatibility. It was like the Fates were mocking me, once more pitching me against tragic monsters the likes of the moon-scorched abominations I faced almost two decades ago.

I could feel the light behind my eyes flare in rhythm with my ascending spirit. To make good on my promise to oppose the trickster moon god and his ilk next time our paths cross I have to start by unmaking his grim work. His mockery of the holy human form.

The mystery he carved in my soul will now be used to unmake this tragedy; despite its rarity, I had seen Gojo's prominent use of cursed technique reversal enough times to come with means to seize Rher's baleful light in hand and subjugate it under the lens of my captain virtue to be whatever I want it to be. Whatever I deemed it should be.

Fire can be a show of strength, but it is also a symbol of wisdom and comfort. Fire is what the caster wishes it to be.

I can do it. Save everyone that is.

I just don't have enough time. This skill is mostly theoretical since I never had the chance or cause to use it before. Too crude and unrefined to make a difference.

However, I don't fucking care. Whatever it takes, I will see it done. Our breath will literally invert and we will spit blood and black bile if you turn on our principle now that you have seized it. Argyrchiara informs me in approval of my decision as she lends me her power and insight.

This is the proper path of a hero. Beloved by the Muses, reviled by the Fates.

I nock my heart flame arrow made of purple light and aim up toward the heavens. If I lack time then I just have to make more. The rules of nature no longer constrain me as they once did all my life. I throw five hundred years of my heart's blood to the flames and give it all to the ardent flames of my arrow.

I release it and all the glass window panels of Shibuya explode under its shockwave.

No city, no matter how grand, can contain the glory of a hero. As existences bigger than life all compassionate heroes who care for the mortal souls living beneath them must be eternally mindful of how fragile they are. The world of citizens and philosophers is simply too different from the world of heroes and tyrants.

Fortunately, I have a hero's insight to compensate for it. I checked my math; this is the best path.

As the flaming bolt ascends toward the heavens it casually shatters the barrier keeping the non-sorcerers pinned down in this battlefield, revealing the true sky. Then it explodes in a ring of aurora boreal light that covers Shinjuku and its vicinity as it rains down flaming arrows down back to Earth as the boreal ring expands.

As the arrow storm fell, they melted the glass and plastic shards into slags even as they peppered the transfigured humans and rouge-cursed spirits outside Geto's control.

It was a breathtaking sight, even for me. The light of my flames created a rainbow screen as it hit the molten glass and the presents witnessed a defiant miracle in what they thought would be their deaths as I forged countless pathways for them to evacuate safely from the glass by leveraging all my blacksmith skills even as the monster assaulting them reverted back into humans. Whole, if confused and unconscious. I hero is more than a butcher. I can not only kill what divinity cursed to live forever but also heal what cannot be mended.

With a hero's sight, I saw as the eyes of those I saved turned from despair and panic to something else.

Hope.

Hope.

As a cultivator in the first rung of the Heroic Realm, I stand worth equal to two hundred and ten men put together, each with exactly one hundred years' worth of lifespan, of heart's blood, the bounty of my cultivation. This granted me a virtual lifespan of twenty-one thousand years as a newly minted hero. Each rung I climb going forward will add a hundred men's worth of power to my base and add ten thousand years to my lifespan, as is common sense that one rank in the realm above equals the totality of the realm below.

However, the Fates are never kind after a cultivator transgresses beyond the mortal realms. A hero's self-appointed destiny is to burn. While the low flame burns the longest, we don't light the Olympic Games with candles. I knew back then on the day I vowed to myself to become a hero that this meant I wouldn't make it to one hundred years of age even if I reached the top of the Heroic Realm. Not if I keep doing stunts like this from now on.

My muse embraced me from behind as she snuggled her face against mine and whispered in my ear affectionally. We were born. We've lived. Soon enough, we'll die.

As expected from a heavenly entity, she is ruthlessly cruel even to those she meant well, isn't she? This other half of mine. Looking at her eyes a part of me can't help but think there might be some truth to the legend of the Father splitting humanity's souls apart in fear of our power and rebelliousness.

She is right. It was the easiest trade I'd ever made in my life. I would not endure another second as a pawn of Fate! I am writing my own story from now on. The weak don't get to decide even the way they die; I will die on my own terms or never at all. Regardless of that, this Epic is a tale about hope. I wouldn't be able to live another instant by betraying this burning virtuous beating heart of mine. I might survive, but only in a Tyrant's wretched way.

I would be better off dead. I know this in my bones. In my soul.

Now that I stepped over to the side of the realm of legends, I finally understand the meaning of refinement through labor. I burned through five hundred years of my life in this last feat and it is as if I had practiced high-stakes archery, molted glass working, and mending of souls for these last five hundred years. The nascent ability to manipulate souls has been refined by my silver bright starlight marrow and the time I invested on saving them.

I am tired and ravished after my long imprisonment yet even this is easily corrected. In my time as a prier, back when this adventure started, I learned how to instigate and harvest the faith of those around me. There is no curse more profound than the wish for salvation. This hope has existed since the dawn of human suffering and it has saved through enduring fortitude in the face of adversity just as many people as it has condemned to extend and pointless suffering.

My actions inspire hope just as effectively as any masterfully crafted sermon would have. Even more so. There is no soul blind enough to a hero's glory. Now I inhale and with my breath, I gather all the hope released from the witness of my tale, my friends and allies, and take strength from it much like a cursed spirit would do to evolve.

I had gone way too long without a mean and this was a sweet one indeed. There is still work to be done. You can rest when you are dead. My muse chides me for my distraction.

Right, Megumi! I look at the scar-like hole in Shinjuku, no life to speak of in two hundred meters of radium.

I then turn toward the insolent angel watching me with six expectant eyes, there are always risks involved in meeting this glare but I have been enduring Gojo for ten years now. I could do for how long it took to get my message across.

We didn't use the voice of our souls to exchange discourse and get the point across. We are way beyond that. It was a simpler method yet far more profound. Megumi and Tsumiki were my children, I would take care of them. No matter what took. Using my over-the-top display of might to clean up house and round up the remaining opposition is a better use of his time.

Gojo left as my Tyrant Raptor roared its dominion over the heavens for all to hear.

Time to finish this.

-//-

Sukuna's answer to my comment was a barrage of invisible blades. Despite that, my pneumatic senses perceived with clarity the spark that preceded the use of a cursed or virtuous technique, my sophic senses perceived the blades even as they were sharp enough to elicit a similar reaction to Aristotle's blade of rhetoric. More than that, to my heroic senses they were as obvious and unthreatening as a barrage of mortal blades.

If Sukuna had been at his best then we would be in parity with each other, at least at base as I am around twenty-one fingers worth of power. I had seen his fingers before when I was to attempt to destroy them years ago, something even Gojo seemed incapable of doing. While I am sure I could pull this off now, back then things were different. But that is not what matters, Sukuna should be around nineteen fingers but Megumi did a pretty good job defanging him; despite the unusual circumstances of his ascension, he is no less of a hero, about one hundred and ten men.

This plus the influence he has eaten from Sukuna allowed Megumi to corner the King of Curses. He has already lost, he just refuses to admit to it just yet. A good thing, for I have some questions for him. If he could do this body-snatching trick on his own then he wouldn't have been sealed in the first place, he is in cajole with Kenjaku, like the other ancient sorcerers.

Said that I am not an idiot. A cornered and desperate beast is especially dangerous. That is why I sacrificed a single moment of my future to the burning flames of my heart. Then I kept at it, doubling the cost of every moment of my life for as long as will it so. The specter of my mirror image, stolen from that frozen moment, added his strength to my own, bringing me four hundred and twenty men or forty-two fingers' worth of power.

Sukuna's assault, as diminished as he was, simply couldn't hurt me at all, this was never a fight. The only reason Megumi didn't resume control is because he is focused on suppressing Sukuna and expunging him from his soul while adapting to his new standing.

Then I ramped it up, sacrificing one minute of my life each second. In exchange for this bargain, I brought my power up to twelve thousand and six hundred men worth of power. More power than I ever held using my domain expansion to its limit. This is how heroes fight tyrants existing in one entire realm above them, capable of crushing a mountain with the power of one million million men.

Before Sukuna realized we were back at the center of the acrimony caused by his Domain Expansion and away from any living souls he was capable of hurting.

Also, I was holding him by the throat. My grip goes beyond the physical and shackles his cursed energy as surely as cruel iron chains so he doesn't try any funny business.

"I have some questions for you, King of Curses. So why don't we speak candidly?" I say to him with a smile that wasn't a smile at all as I tightened my grip over his throat. That was a nap we would not wake up from, he knew.

He nodded but a peek at his mind and heart with my extraneous senses informed me he had no intent on surrendering. I let him go anyway, uncaring to make distance between us. He is not a peer I have to be wary of.

In a typical curse way, he turns his hand into a claw, intending to hold Megumi hostage. I reverse engineer his cursed technique to expand the interpretation of my own foundational virtuous technique. The final product, Sparagmos, is surprisingly similar to an invisible version of Gro-goroth's hurting.

Sukuna's- Megumi's hands and feet were turned into bloody ruins by my attack. His heroic constitution and orphic resilience shine through. I part of me that saw this boy grow up into a fine man couldn't help but feel for Megumi. I would trade positions with him in an instant if the situation were not what it is. He will live through it and I will mend him whole shortly but for now, both of us will have to endure.

"Are you done throwing a tantrum? We both know that the boy fighting beside my daughter is more than what he seems. Your previous vessel, I presume. We both know he didn't come about by coincidence either. He is one of Kenjaku's creations. What do you know about him?"

Seeing the wisdom in buying time, Sukuna decides to engage in small talk. "That boring thing is what you are curious about? Kenjaku might do the creepiest things but the boy himself is not worth much himself."

I couldn't help it, I started laughing. "You didn't realize it, did you? For a guy with four eyes, you are surprisingly blind. Sukuna you have two faces! That pickled brain has you dancing in the palm of his hand. He wasn't created vessel but as a prison from the get-go, I bet. More than that, he is your replacement."

The pieces finally fit in as whatever his deal with Kenjaku had been, he wasn't expected for it yet Kenjaku was most likely another story. I pressed on, "He is your final finger, a reincarnation brought about by Kenjaku as he was most likely the one to turn you into a cursed object. He must know a way to tamper or bypass its protection and he used it well, he made it count. You two were meant to be in a similar position to twin siblings as far as the rules of jujutsu go but Kenjaku managed to bypass it by making you into Conjoined twins the moment the boy became your vessel."

Sukuna finally understood and he became afraid.

I continued, "Doing so allowed Yuji to feed off your strength and temper his soul through your cursed energy. Because when you die it will all pass on to the boy. That is good, for I have plans for you but I much prefer the Sukuna 2.0 to the old model." I say with a dim self-satisfied smile. The bastard will get everything coming for him! "In the end consumption was a transient affair. Even the grandest beast's flesh was digested eventually. Megumi will benefit from eating you but he won't really keep you around… that was all I wanted to say, you can die now."

The King of Curses lived up to his name in his final moments, trying to weasel his way out in a pathetic last-ditch effort I didn't have the interest to hear. From the body, rises the soul. Megumi bear my starlight marrow. It was trivial to use it as a medium to manifest Argyrchiara to my son's side just as easily as she comes to mine.

Megumi has more than what it takes to get rid of this parasite, the only reason Sukuna still lives is because I never prepared him for what to expect from the heroic realm. He seized glory but didn't know what to do with it yet, still unsteady on his feet.

For whatever reason Megumi had genuine affection toward this boy who was Sukuna's reincarnation if the way his heart cried out for his friend was anything to go by; a rare achievement considering Megumi's tsundere disposition. Between this and his solid for Tsumiki is more than enough of an indictment of his character for me.

I have a policy to bury my grudges with the bones of my enemies anyway. A necessary line when you are basically THE Greek version of a necromancer.

Sukuna died, and the world was better off for this.

-//-

[AUTHOR'S ROOM]

Yeah, Sukuna got smoked. The only reason this lasted as long as it did was because Megumi had never been a Sophic so he was unaccustomed to his power still. The same thing happened with Griffon and Solus as they blindly explored the power of the Sophic Realm.

Let me tell you, the Heroic Realm is a hell of a drug! The disparity in power from the Sophic Realm is such that Sukuna went from a real treat to a casual encounter. Kaioken has nothing to heart flame, a newly minted hero can kill a tyrant up to halfway through his realm by sacrificing five thousand years. That is why they call heroes significant existences.

Remembering Sukuna only has those gigantic reserves because his finger kept on accumulating more power each passing day for a thousand years. He is still just a mortal man.

Zagreus shikigami looks like Kurikara, Mei's honkai beast. I didn't put an image because they became corrupted or didn't fit.
 
JJK FINAL
"Well, fuck." Gojo succinctly summarized the whole situation about our resident local body snatcher. Yuki's betrayal stings all the more due to the fact she has been dead for years at the very least. Kenjaku played us all for fools.

"Believe me when I say this. Nobody is feeling this more sharply than me. Considering how well-made Yuji is and the Kamo clan's involvement, Noritoshi Kamo had most likely been one of Kenjaku's identities across the ages. He has outsmarted and maneuvered us through this entire bolt so far. We won't win anything by rushing things now."

"Do you have a plan then? We managed to force most of the reactionary faction to surrender after moping up the most radical members. As of right now, the Gojo clan is the last Jujutsu family standing on this Game of Thrones. I finally got everything I always wanted yet something tells me we are not out of deep waters just yet. So please, sensei, spill the bad news already."

"Gojo, what is the nature of a god?"

"… Fuck!"

"Once again, your way with words brings tears to my eyes as your teacher. But you are not wrong. The only ally Kenjaku truly needs in Jengen, all these other ones are just ingredients he shuffles as he needs. The main barriers of Japan have been tampered with. Why?"

"There was some serious scandal after your disappearance since the record had been wiped out. Tengen stepped in then, under the excuse of making sure whoever was behind it couldn't repeat this feat… we had been played, hadn't we? To think very keystone of jujutsu society would turn on us out of her own volition."

"You better forget whatever thought you had about charging there on your own. It is too late by now. This public crisis already succeeded in creating a national panic and Tengen modified barrier has been milking it for all they are worth it for well over a year and a half. Even destroying it is a bad option as it serves as the foundation for all barrier techniques while suppressing cursed spirits. Though I fear we won't have a choice in the matter. Tengen proved herself to be an evil that has to be excised."

"Should we cross our arms and surrender then?"

"Don't be cheeky with me! Their plan isn't as easily executed as they would want us to believe. We have a period of grace and we must use it to regain our bearing. This includes calming the population. You wanted to remake Jujutsu society, didn't you? Now it is your chance."

Gojo examined you silently, scrutinizing you for all this insight is worth, then signing abjectly. "Wow, we ARE bone! If I didn't know you half as well as I do, I would have missed this is your especial way of telling me to get my worldly affairs in order for a one-way trip."

I swear, all these years and he still has a way to get me exasperated like nobody else. "It won't come to that."

"Because you will be dead before any of us is any real danger!" Gojo shouts in exasperation then forcibly reasserts control of himself. "Look, I know I made a mess of things in your absence but I no longer am the helpless kid you first met. Let me share in the burden… please."

"Gojo… sorry, I guess am just relying. I wasn't allowed the luxury of stopping and grieving after being captured, it wasn't my intention to build a wall of austerity. I know you blame yourself for being tricked by Kenjaku, but you were far from the only one, myself included. All things considered, you did well, I truly mean it."

"… it doesn't feel like it. Megumi and you were the real heroes of the day."

"Gojo, why do you think I am bringing you along? Let me be clear, the world Megumi and I stepped in is different from the world of mortal men. A mortal cultivator, no matter how gifted, has no business setting foot in it. So, why do you think I am dragging you along, boy?"

"You had to ruin the moment, didn't you?" Gojo complained yet he couldn't hide the smirk stubbornly rising from the corner of his lips and the cringing of his eyes.

The message was clear, he had what it took. Now that he saw for himself the new heights, he can tread the treacherous pursuit of the heights with assurance; everything men need is an example to know something is possible.

"Call me superstitious, but the fact is, some treats are too great to be faced by a single hero alone. That is why there are so many Epics about crews and parties. Tessera— there's strength in numbers, strength in justice. All things begin and end in virtue-

"Unit in all things is always best." Gojo cut my lecture short with the exasperated familiarity of an uncaring student, and here I was hoping his tenure as a teacher would have educated him about how annoying this is. It probably did, that is why he doubled down on it wherever he could. "How long do we have then?"

"I would waver, about a week. But to be on the safer side, three days."

"And what you will be doing while I waste time in public relations and dismantling the foundations of Jujutsu society?"

"I will be bringing Megumi and Idatori-kun up to speed. This kind of fight… it's not a stage they are ready for. I will patch the holes in Megumi's education and finish what you started building in Yuji."

"Do you intend to leave Geto out of it?"

"His absence would just leave his family free to do as they please while giving him deniability. He is more useful as a stabilizing force. The same for Tsumiki, she is flourishing in her newly assumed role, and her time is better spent helping the victims of Mahito to acclimate to their new lives as cultivators of virtue. My little flower is too lovely to be anything but out of place on the battlefield."

"Can we stop for a moment to talk about how crazy it is that this little civil war has resulted in the swelling of awakened souls? Geto for sure is delighted by your stunt."

"We will have time to ponder about our brave new world after we overcome the incoming crisis. By the way, before I forget," I made the motion of reaching into my pocket but in truth procuring from a far deeper place, until I retrieved from it a supernaturally lovely necklace. Gojo found himself so engrossed by it that he almost got it hitting his face when I carelessly threw it at his head.

Despite the irreverent delivery he just kept on examining my gift. The silver bright wonder made from the raw materials procured from the monument inside my soul. Its string leather was made from my sinew, masterfully decorated white ivory plates made from my bones, interwoven with small tiles of silver between them, bearing a central plate made of white gold bearing a single ruby procured from my scarlet veins.

"I am the son of earth and starry heaven, but of heaven is my birth…" Gojo read the carvings of its central piece without difficulty, despite it being literally written in Greek. Learning to pass along the gift of the Babel Shard was worth it. "What is this?"

"Instructions for an underworld stroll. You know about my second foundational greater mystery. The one I refused to curse my children with. How could you not? It rhymes with the curse you inherited from the Gojo clan," I leave at it half-finished so he can finish closing the gap.

"The… smothering of distance, both real, spiritual, and metaphysical. That is how you can read minds, and hide yourself even from me when you are really trying. You probably could bypass my infinity and make yourself unassailable as well through Cursed technique reversal if you didn't abhor this side of your power with every fiber of your being, that is. Hiding in plain sight… like an ethereal and ephemeral dream under the moonlight."

There is a reason I never mentioned Rher besides the danger of mentioning a god's name aloud. The memory of our encounter haunts me to this day. "I must have stayed here for a long time, for you to figure me out so well. This necklace acts as a conduit for the lesson paid for by the tragedy of my ascension – a hero's creed is liberation. While the Prison Realm turned out to be a torture device instead of its promised salvation, there is still wisdom to be found in its intended pursuit. More than that, it was familiar."

"The Orphic House…" Gojo casually shows the fruits of his nosy hobby of trying to dig up my past. Mentioning something I never intended to share until now, Orphism is a click away; curse you, Google! "Well, there goes all of Yaga's talk about sorcerers always dying alone. I kingly gift, and I mean it. In a sense, it is something I always wanted – people can love a flower, but this doesn't mean they can understand it. Though I have to admit this doesn't exactly fill me with confidence about our odds of victory, oh master of mine!" Gojo says like the irreverent brat that he is.

I pressed on, acknowledging him would just encourage this kind of behavior. "A hero takes strength from the chapters of his Epic, by invoking his Labors he can manifest a unique display of excellence. In my case this manifests as two branches of power, the first is my own version of breaking of chains while the second is the capability to make the monument of my Ego inside my soul in a refuge from the circle of reincarnation. Time and Space are no longer a shackle to the soul of the dead, after all."

"And what is the price involved to make one of these, precisely?"

"About a week of my lifespan, I am a cultivator jewelry maker after all. It's good to finally put those skills to good use while flexing over morties."

"Morties? Have you spent too long with Geto or did your new stature compromise your oxygen supply to your brain?" Gojo jokes about the extra palm and a half of height my ascension granted me, making me a little bit larger than life, at 225cm (7' 4'').

"It is unbecoming to seethe just because of the hand nature has given your kind, my student. It's only justice that a hero would stand larger than life, figurative and literally. You Satoru Gojo stand at the peak of what a yamato man could be with yours 190cm (6'3''), and from the day I was born that peak was so far below me that I could hardly see it looking down." I empathized it by patting his head like I often did on his school days. As always, he once again proved he only ever grew on the outside by exploding at my provocation.

Unsatisfaction is the key motivation to ascension, after all. It's my job as his teacher to maximize his chances of progressing in whatever way I can. Surely there is no ulterior motive.

-//-

"Hey there kids. I came back from my milk run… unfortunately it spoiled during transit so I had to return once again yet no matter how much I tried I couldn't bring it back in time before it spoiled, so we will have to do without milk from now on." I greeted Megumi and Tsumiki now back home once more after one year apart.

Despite the lame joke Tsumiki quickly joined in it while tightly embracing me, "Honestly, there are deliveries nowadays, you know? You should get on with the times… or raise a pet cow for our dairy products. We certainly have the space." Says my eldest as she buries her face in my chest while crying softly.

I then looked at Megumi, and despite the front of austerity he was putting on, I could pick his catharsis at our reunion. "Come on, son. The world might be ending by the end of the week. Life is too short for these kinds of formalities. This might be our last time together as a family, let's make it count… but if you want to act all cool in front of your family we will understand." I finished with a smile, Tsumiki did not disappoint tough.

"Right? Megumi's rebellious phase is also cute! Acting like he didn't run himself ragged to save you." She whispered to my ear conspiratorially while talking loud enough for our family friends in the back to hear. It's funny, despite being big enough to look like Toji's lost twin his sour grimace can only take me back to when he was small enough to be my little knee-biter.

"Well, de did save me in the end."

Both of them were driven to pause by my statement. Megumi was accessing me with the full focus of a hero, but there was a vulnerability to his gaze I hadn't seen in him since he was an abandoned child.

As if I would make a cruel joke about such a thing.

"Despite my best efforts, I couldn't find the means to escape on my own. It was you, Megumi. I heard the thunderous heavenly declaration of your ascension. A hero is immune to the impositions of natural law, precisely because of the nature of the Prison Realm was that I could hear it. You showed me the way out, son. Thank you."

Maybe it was my sincerity or maybe Megumi had wanted to hear something like this from me for some time. But whatever the case, the heart flame behind his eyes flared up and he rushed me unconcerned about holding back his newly gained heroic strength. His embrace almost rocketed me out of my feet and I had to reposition Tsumiki to avoid her getting hurt, but despite it all I found mist escaping the corner of my own eyes. It was a good hug. At the end of the day, he is just a sixteen-year-old boy, he shouldn't be going through any of this yet he persevered and thrived in the adversity.

I didn't have any time to mourn Yuki and the pain of this tragedy only intensified in the trues of my ascension. A hero's creed is passion, after all. And I found my heart suddenly had twice the space for the outrage I had as a sophic. But she wasn't the only bond I had formed in these lands.

That is why I had to win. I won't allow them to be left at the mercy of any such god. Even in the best of scenarios, the god of Fear and Hunger radically altered the course of the world. Anything responsible for ushering in a "cruel age" is morally ambivalent at best.

I had to win.

-//-

"So, how was the training in the hyperbolic time chamber?" Gojo asked full of badly contained mirth at the dejected sight of Yuki and Megumi. While he favors a hands-off style of education I have always been more thorough with my charges. "You both must feel like real protagonists now, don't you? Cramming a year of training in one day right before the finishing line is the most shonen trope ever! I can only seethe in envy that such an opportunity didn't exist in my time."

Unnecessary to say, they were not buying a single thing out of Gojo's mouth. The barely contained hatred in their eyes would have killed a lesser man.

"Why, you just had to say so, Gojo-kun. I am more than happy to give you some last-minute training as well!"

"Thank you, but I would rather die. They didn't dub that place Prison Realm for no reason. The fact you managed to turn it into a classroom sounds like my high school purgatory nightmare."

Megumi reached his daily quote of shenanigans. "Can't the two of you stop clowning around? This is the end of the world as far as we are concerned!"

I just lifted a curious eyebrow at my son, Itadori picked it up first. "Hey, Gojo-sensei. What is it that you are wearing?"

"A dead man's drip." I intercepted before Gojo could brag. While the scarf and white haori meshed extremely well, the martial artist uniform was the same as Toji's.

It's funny how vindicated Megumi felt every time I bullied Gojo, especially as he kept looking more like his biological father with each passing day. Gojo especially seems to appreciate this irony. "Hey, Megumi. Has anyone ever said you got a punchable face?"

"Why don't you come here and try then? I promise to hold back since you are a mere 'morty'."

"Oh my, someone is certainly confident. I knew this day would come, time to remind you why you are the little brother in our relationship." Gojo says while cracking his knuckles.

"Okay, children. That is enough. You will have all the rest of your lives to play fight after we deal with Tengen. And speaking of Tengen, how are things faring after Shibuya?"

"For short, an international shit show. Besides all those former transfigured humans you saved having their souls awoken, there are reports across the globe of people experiencing an awakening. And considering jujutsu existed isolated in Japan for millennia, people are pointing their fingers at the resident foreign god as responsible for this." Gojo looked meaningfully at me all the while.

"Well, they are probably right. The soul exists as more than a unitary existence, being part of a collective conscience. When we ascended, we imprinted the stairway to raging heaven together with our legends in the Curse Realm."

"Wait, wait. Isn't that a problem?" Yuji asked with clear worry in his voice.

"Gojo just destroyed Tengen's ancestral barriers to slow down her apotheosis. One way or the other, the world won't be the same even if we prevent the apocalypse. This way at least Japan is in a state of parity with everyone as far as 'magic' is concerned. If the existence of jujutsu had come to light while Japan still held a monopoly over it there would be open warfare." My words seem to calm the two boys down. The prospect of World War III being pushed out of their minds.

"Yeah, but we still have to face an army of paparazzi before we reach Jujutsu Tech. Tengen turned the place into her fortress while we were busy. So, brace yourself. The army cordoned off the place for us but Zagreus is the only person to ever brute force his way inside before. We are hoping you could do it again."

"Let's go then? To the final battle."

-//-

As a precaution, one could say a contingency, the people who built Jujutsu Tech went out of their way to ensure there was a good distance from it to Tokyo's more densely populated zones. Alas, in one thousand years population exploded. While this crisis and the existence of cursed spirits have started an exodus to the safer countryside, the logistics involved in reallocating millions of people in three days is not a job that I envy the poor government officers for.

If I had my way, Tokyo would be a ghost town. Just to be on the safer side. I read enough about the deepest dungeon where the god of Fear and Hunger was born and ascended to know the entire city could be a lost cause by now.

And of course, there are always those stubborn fools who think they know better. Paparazzi certainly earned their bread today. If the world doesn't end then these pictures will go down in history.

Our superhero team money shot.

I only realized it after the fact. The four of us marched in lockstep side by side while being given VIP treatment and a wide bench by the soldiers of the Japanese self-defense force. Gojo dressed to impress and with a faraway look that could, Megumi and I donning our heavily customized raven mantles of living shadows, and only Yuji wearing his jujutsu uniform with the battered pride of someone desperate to prove himself.

Before too long we reached the outer edge of Tengen's barrier.

"It seems we have been expected. Someone seems peeved they lost the title of best barrier user after all. Can you still pierce it?" Gojo commented.

"I specialize more in escaping these sorts of places than infiltrating them. I don't think bursting through it with a blade of rhetoric will cut it." Megumi silently rolled his eyes at my pun while Yuji and Gojo chuckled to themselves. "Fortunately, there is still a core source in this barrier – Tengen herself… I can't believe I am using this after all these years."

Gojo nailed Rher's fundamental operational principle despite how seldom I dared to use it around him, or anyone for that matter. That was how the god I were able to 'fight', despite the 384.400 kilometers separating the Moon from the Earth. It is like a reversal limitless and its ultimate expression is the Golden Gates capable of even linking different points of reality through the dream realm. As that Kefka-look-a-like said, Rher is the dream and we are the dreamers.

The nature of empty barriers Tengen favor allow for the projection of consciousness like a canvas or hologram. This is more than enough for me to force my way through even without a hero's glory to fill the gap. In fact, this is the most telling way to measure Tengen's apotheosis.

With invisible hands of intention arranged in a mandala, I start to weave mudras until they finally link together forming a shimmering [golden gate].

"Everyone together now," I say as I jump, being followed by my companions as we cross the threshold into the unknown… and reach the foyer of Tengen's sanctum sanctorum.

Just to be greeted by Kenjaku wearing Yuki's body like a skin suit, seated comfortably in a well-furnished room in Belle Époque style.

Despite the garish presentation meant to get under my skin it still could not obfuscate my heroic senses from the truth.

I started laughing. A dry, vitriolic, and almost mournful thing. This was enough to throw my companions out of their game until they understood it as well.

This would be no fighting at all. Kenjaku was already dying, torn from within by the backlash of countless broken binding vows. Her current composure is something managed by delaying the inevitable by rhetorizing away her death. A delaying tactic.

"Really? Do you exist to spit me or something? You trample over everything I stand for and threaten the lives of those dear to me while wearing the face of the one I love. And in the end, you even deny me the satisfaction of a proper conclusion! I am this close to breaking one of my rules, just so I can exact revenge on your soul posthumously!"

"Sorry, sorry. I know I have come across as overly antagonistic but it wasn't my intention to get under your nerve like this." Kenjaku confesses without any preamble. Worse, it was eerie alike to how Yuki herself used to behave wherever she extended an olive branch – this sorry not sorry half-ass attempt. At this point, I don't even know if this is a body old route shining through in a moment of decontrol or calculated malice. "In truth, I didn't intend to die either but your sudden prison break forced me into a corner. Not that I hold this against you, witnessing the heroic realm for myself is almost like a dream come true. This is the most significant breakthrough for humanity in more than a thousand years!"

"Don't try to distract me! What did you do to break that many binding vows?"

"You would have seen the truth of it if you just hadn't cheated your way to the final boss right from the gate," Kenjaku complained in a childish voice, even as she started to bleed from her nose. "It was just a matter of time before the main barriers across Japan were to be destroyed. Even if the authorities that remain were to veto this, you would have forced the issue yourself. This meant I had to be creative to ensure a steady source of cursed energy. That is why we worked together to create this atelier, a purgatory where ancient sorcerers turned into cursed objects are given a virtual vessel and forced to fight to the death just to be reincarnated next round to repeat the circle once more."

"And I take it anyone who enters would also be forced to participate in this battle royalty. An ingenious and creative defense against the outside world that doubles as a perpetual engine."

"Bingo! I knew you would be able to appreciate my design. I am quite proud of it, considering it is something I cooked last minute. My culling games plan simply wouldn't pan out with the four of you around so I had to improvise."

"… enough distraction. Megumi, Gojo, Yuji, we are moving on. Kenjaku is powerless, she is trying to stall for Tengen's sake. Whatever you want to interrogate her about can wait. I fully intend to double back to retrieve Yuki's body and give her a proper burial but time is against us." To drive the point home, I march through the room in indifference to Yuki's gaze even as my heart flame betrays my true feelings about the matter.

Kenjaku kept on talking, trying to instigate a response and when it failed, she turned toward my incoming party members, pulling at any vulnerability she could find. She mentioned their failings, their fears, and secrets given in confidence. It was clear the end of Kenjaku's rope and she wanted to see if she could hang at least one of us with it on her way out. A final trap of some kind. I must give it to the old sorcerer, her commitment to her cause is commendable if nothing else.

"Farewell, oh ancient evil of the world of sorcerers. Pass along to the other side knowing we will destroy and unmake everything you ever worked for and that your long life was in vain." I dictated in a final judgment of its soul, my charges watched the exchange uncomfortably, having the decency to understand this wasn't meant for their eyes.

"What a cruel man you turned out to be, giving me the cold shoulder in my final moments. That is okay though, this just meant we match. Fortunate then that we will have all of eternity to know each other better in the underworld!"

Kenjaku's final words triggered alarm bells in my mind, unearthing memories of an old conversation with Yuki. Space, Time, and mass. These three must be treated with the utmost respect and caution. While Yuki's virtual mass doesn't affect her positively or negatively, this is mostly because she always seems to restrain herself to a certain point. But would that hold if she were to be powered by a death-binding vow? In that case, her previous goading makes sense if her goal was to ensure at least one death; the body serves as a natural barrier for the soul and its cursed technique, and she could ensure a hit through contact.

As it is, we can barely escape unscathed. While Gojo's [limitless] won't cut it as I myself emulate [star rage] to overwhelm the concept to bypass it, we are not out of options. The reason time doesn't pass inside the Prison Realm is a byproduct of pinning a person's coordinates in space. While the Dionysian side of my foundation manifested as a refuge to souls once they break free from the body, Rher's side of my foundation holds the crystallization of said escape feat.

Magnitude, Motion, Time. Space and time are intrinsically linked variables, to give the boys the time they needed to prepare I increased the magnitude of time inside a determined locked coordinate, an emptiness barrier, making time flow far faster than outside it; I can even pull a Mercury impression, music and all, by limiting it to my body like Kenjaku just did. More useful as a defense against time shenanigans and a way to flex against fodder than truly useful against enemies in my weight class.

By manipulating time, I can loop it, allowing me to take one or more different courses of action at the same time – Multi-Dimensional Refraction Phenomenon. It's easier to think of it as a shadow clone that transfers all the damage taken when it returns to the original, useful but has its limits and risks. Plus, of no use right now. It certainly gives me options but against a black hole, there is only one foregone conclusion.

Now things get interesting when the manipulation of Motion is put into question.

I grab all of my party members with ghostly hands of carrion intention in the fraction of a second that precedes Star Rage's overwhelming gravity and pull everyone outside of its gravitational riptide by stepping sideways between moments. Time and space are interwoven into a fabric that underpins reality, by escaping one we also untether ourselves from the other. It was like stepping over to the backstage of reality, the material world fell away leaving behind only the multicolored strings of fate and the souls shining like stars yet puppeteered by it while suspended over the celestial dance of the cosmos.

My King Crimson is the strongest stand power in the world!

I jest although it isn't far from it. I can't use my time in it to interact with anything, let alone attack, so it is in practice only useful to dodge attacks and reallocate. It is convenient for times like this facing suicidal last-stand attacks but it is less useful than advertised in the thick of the fray of battle against anyone capable of keeping up with me. I am unassailable like this but I also can't attack anyone back or adjust things to my favor. What a bummer. Well, I could have done worse than a perfect defense right at the first Labor.

At least it could purchase the cabin view to the inside of a black hole. Kenjaku didn't restrict its reach to our vicinity. He rightly assumed some of us could survive even this, so there is no point in keeping his cursed energy farm. It was best to reap as much as possible all at once and be it sorcerer or human, a person releases the most amount of cursed energy in death.

The black hole tore the walls of the emptiness barrier and crushed all it could reach. This attack would have destroyed the planet itself if it wasn't for Tengen's barrier containing its reach. Maybe it would have been better to prevent it but Kenjaku strikes me as the kind of person who always has multiple death man's switches as contingencies. I made the right call to rush here as soon as possible after all.

Soon enough the catastrophe subsides as the black hole collapses and all interwoven souls reach their destined conclusion. I stepped back into real space and let out the breath I had been holding. It is quite an expensive ability, and I have to fuel it with the power of a single breath. Even after my dharma pneumatic chamber's latest expansion doubled its holding capacity with a single new vault connected to the heroic realm, dragging tag alongs with me made it prohibitively expensive.

"Are you ok?" Megumi asks me while I take some really deep breaths

"It took more out of me than expected. Don't worry, I am bound to get used to it in time. I can already feel my starlight marrow acting up."

"It was a rather anticlimactic end for our resident mastermind and villain tough," Gojo commented.

"This is not a fairy tale; things seldom end neatly like in the stories. I am satisfied we didn't lose anything else for that damn brain's shenanigans. Let's keep things like that, shall we?"

"That is something I can get behind!" Yuji commented. He did a good job not flying off the handle after meeting his whore of a mother, even after what she did to him in Shibuya. Not really a hard puzzle to solve when you can read minds and invade dreams. Between the whole Sukuna reincarnation thing and this, the poor boy was a mess comparable to Geto. The year I sacrificed to the flames to polish him was worth it. it's no wonder he became Megumi's closest friend.

-//-

Well finally reached the figurative heart of darkness. The beating core of this dream labyrinth and nursery. The final influx of cursed energy is worrying but at the very least this might make the nascent god a premature one if the worst come to pass.

We all paused for a moment to appraise our 'opponent'. I really lucked out, being tempered by different flavors of madness. Because I doubt humans were ever meant to witness a Tesseract in real life. It resembles a giant behelit egg head, but instead of two, there are four eyes, and instead of smooth red it was a celestial white, and it was being incubated by a snake shikigami.

"You were right. Tengen is still a cursed womb for now. Tough calling it that somehow fell short." Megumi commented as he examined the world egg in front of us- no. Not simply a cosmic egg, it is an Orphic egg!

"Ineffable, hidden, brilliant scion, whose motion is whirring, you scattered the dark mist that lay before your eyes and, flapping your wings, you whirled about, and through this world you brought pure light." With the shard of babel, I recited the ancient prayer in proto-Greek for all presents to hear. Suddenly the morsel of information Knejaku dropped when she imprisoned me started to make sense.

Gojo, who performed research about my origin in his free time had enough of a background to whistle appreciatively at Tengen's utter audacity and hubris.

"In Orphism, the primordial god Phanes is the primeval deity who is born from the Cosmic Egg of Time (Chronos) at the beginning of creation, entwined with a serpent, Ananke, the personification of inevitability (Fate)." Even as I explained things over, I examined the thing for all it was worth it. There must be something that I am missing here, but what?

Because you are behaving like a mortal, Argyrchiara chides me lightly while pulling my ear playfully. Your body has no limits, even the constraints of space and time can't shackle you anymore. So start to act like it! Will you really let our boy show us up again? My muse complains while pointing toward Megumi leveraging his own muse's adaptability to puzzle out the mystery in front of us.

Honestly, I could do without the backseat gaming. This is easier said than done, it is like asking me to look left and right at the same time… I am so fucking stupid! I stroke my heart flame, sacrificing one day to the flames for each successive moment. But instead of a plain magnitude multiplier of 86400 times, I evoke my first labor to seize all alternatives at my disposition at once. Guided by my divine daemon's grace I set the discerning eyes of a hero to scan for cracks in the veil of opaqueness Tengen swathed herself with… until I found something eerie familiar.

Since when did the Prison Realm have something like a backdoor? That is when it clicked.

Dionysus… and Zagreus of the Orphic tradition are intimately connected to Phanes. To cut it short, Phanes was the first god "expressible and acceptable to human ears", and it is mentioned as the link of succession between Titans and gods. It is related to the 'eternal recurrence' of the circle of usurpation between father and son. Zeus ate Phanes and usurped his power to surpass Kronos yet in doing so he consigned himself to be replaced as well.

Both inevitability and time in tandem are needed to crush the cosmic egg and free Phanes… Tengen rode the coat of my ascension to seize divinity for herself! I got played, time is meaningless inside this place once she achieves critical mass!

"Domain Envelopment up right now!" as I shout this order all presents heard a small yet thunderous crack through their sophic senses equivalent. The egg is already breaking!

Neither Megumi nor myself can simply 'pull our devil trigger' like Gojo and Yuji can. Fortunately, I knew from the get-go that we would be at a disadvantage. Tengen had battlefield superiority, this place is her figurative belly of the beast. I still have my Mandala Intention to fall back to, but unfortunately, Megumi is still an angsty teenager incapable of self-actualization. Once more his muse picks up his slack.

The fact we have been tempered by the same whine-dark faith is our saving grace. We are compatible enough to perform a cooperative Domain Expansion. Compounded to that my 'sure hit' attack is programmed to hit everyone in range, including myself, in exchange for deciding whether someone gets withered away by Death or growth with Life. The perfect buff and Nerf combo.

"Domain Expansion!"

"Domain Expansion!"

""Monochrome Shadow Garden!!""

While Megumi and I blanked the world in darkness, Yuji and Gojo discarded their mortal shells by painting their bodies in the colors of their primordial colors. It was like I had a biblically accurate angel and devil on each shoulder. Yuji looks like a lore-accurate Sukuna on steroids; while a person is not the slave of their soul nature, being capable of outright rejecting it like Yuji had done tanks to his grandfather, there is still power to be found in it. His [decrepit] soul coupled with the traumas he accrued in his tenure as sorcerer were what he needed to blom.

I leverage my expertise in souls and cultivation for all they are worth to bring the [unity of the closed fist] to our souls. As these men's teacher, mentor, and father figure, I know the monument they built inside their soul like the back of my hand. That is why despite my focus on cultivating uniquely excellent existences It is my privilege to bridge the gap between them to manifest True Cooperation between us in a virtuous circuit.

That is how we rush to kill Tengen before she can ratchet. Empowered by chthonic might and guided by far-seeing eyes and following a tread laid down by an engine of harmony and balance, Itadori brings about a slash capable of severing the very world itself in two.

A world cleaving [Dismantle] sawed the cosmic egg in half… too little too late.

I knew we were doomed the moment light escaped- no, emerged from inside the cursed thing. Phanes was a deity of light and goodness, whose name meant "to bring light" or "to shine"; a first-born deity, he emerged from the abyss and gave birth to the universe.

As Aristotle said, the nature of a god is to live apart. Untouched and unspoken of.

An island in the sun.

That is why Kenjaku passed this shot of godhood over to Tengen instead of keeping it for herself. That shut-in thumb was simply more qualified for this task.

The light charged forward and scattered my domain like the sun parting the morning mist.

You scattered the dark mist that lay before your eyes and, flapping your wings, you whirled about, and throughout this world you brought pure light. For this I call you Phanes, I call you Lord Priapos, I call you sparkling with bright eyes.

I burn a thousand years' worth of my heart's blood, countering a power existing even beyond what a hero's sight can discern with sheer might. All my companions bear my necklace, this entitles them entrance to the chthonic sanctuary for the honored dead my soul has evolved into in my heroic ascension. I hope that I can use this link as a metaphysical armor to prevent this light from unmaking us all.

No matter her new standing, Tengen made a mistake by linking herself so thoroughly with us. Argyrchiara whispers to my ear as she creates a shimmering silver bright barrier over our bodies. The golden light tide wave still hit us like it was a physical thing and I feel the blow echo throughout my tripartite soul as if something was trying to rend the totality of my existence apart.

When I next reasserted my focus and assessed my surroundings, I realized we had all been blown aside like hag dolls. Somehow Gojo and Yuji had been kicked out of their transformations as well; I didn't even know this was even possible in the first place! No, I guess I should count my luck that they were even alive at all. Argyrchiara's aegis holding strong, not only protecting us from whatever this had been but allowing us to stay on the battlefield at all.

Of the First-born king, the reverend one; and upon him all the immortals grew, blessed gods and goddesses and rivers and lovely springs and everything else that had then been born; and he himself became the sole one. We heard with the ears of our soul the heavenly proclamation.

Another name for Phanes was Erikepaios, an etymology mystery as it doesn't belong to a Greek root, but a Hebrew one – erekh appayim. This suggested the Phanes-myth appeared in its original form in Babylonia. That is such a bullshit! We came here to bully a shut-in nerd, not picking a fight with the fucking [Light Bringer]! Then again, Tengen was known as the Hoshi (Star) due to her feat of spreading jujutsu and Buddhism throughout Japan.

I stare relying on my hands and knees as the light takes on a physical shape. Tengen has discarded her modern human thumb appearance for an idealized version of her original human form, though she has kept the extra set of eyes. Besides this, she has the expected stark white wings, Olive wreath crown, and golden bright scepter of rulership in one hand and the divine serpent in the other, and is adorned with a simple toga of white and purple clothes.

Despite her deformity, it didn't detract in any to her sheer majesty. I read the description of the experience of meeting an oracle. Divine women endowed with a god's might to serve as their envoy and mouthpiece. To confront the true face of god is to court destruction, I could feel myself melting from the inside out by her light just from her presence alone. My last-second decision has kept us in the fight after all. But to win we will have to burn like it was our last time.

"I will never forgive the Japanese!" I suddenly scream aloud as I physically help Gojo to his feet while healing him with my foundational virtuous technique, all presents take their sight from the god in our midst to look at me after my outrageous statement. "It's all their fault, all stories worth hearing that come from this land star out with heroes fighting bandits yet inevitably end up by killing God!"

My little joke was the morale boost we needed to shake off the shock of Tengen's ascension. United as we were in solidarity words are no longer needed for the conveyance of intent but some things needed to be said. Gojo's scoundrel smile, Yuji's goofy one, and Megumi's exasperation at my dad's joke are precisely what we needed here.

And you truly think yourself still capable of stopping me still? I expect you to be stubborn but it seems your reputation for madness is well deserved after all. You can't no more stop me as you can seize a star in the sky for yourself! Tengen answered telepathically, high on the throes of her ascension.

I turn toward Megumi, the fire behind his eyes was flaring in joyous defiance of grim reality. He just threw four thousand years to the flames giving his muse, Takuhatachiji-Hime-no-Mikoto, the time she needed to break it down and come to an answer we could use against Tegucifer. Smart boy, he took my lesson to heart – when one stands against greater power you likely won't have more than one single shining moment to seize glory.

Tengen has been supping over the cursed energy of all of Japan for about one year and six months. She is certainly 'something' but I bet she still evolving and stabilizing, accommodating to her new standing. Before she asserts her bearing we can… not kill her. We are already past this point the moment she ratcheted. Vinushka was allegedly a dead god and this didn't prevent him from being called upon; all true gods can endure even through death. It doesn't matter. We already know how to deal with said upstart. Argyrchiara says behind me with a smile full of dark promises.

I turned toward Gojo and Idatori, one glance said it all. Megumi started out with half as much time to burn as myself, he had two moves left on him and then he was out. Permanently. I implored them with my eyes to cross over to our side, for his sake. This was it, they had both reached their perceived limits, the invisible glass ceiling that separated mortal men from legends. The cage of physicality that constrains them, they can almost feel the tug of the swaddling treats that embalm their souls.

It is do or die now.

Thanks to Megumi's muse compounded by our soul synchronization all of our foundational techniques had been calibrated to deal with whatever power that wannabe god has cooked for herself. We overwhelmed her before she could adjust. She has no real fighting experience.

I charge ahead, sacrificing ten thousand years, enough for a freshly minted hero to outright kill a sovereign soul a half-step from Raging Heaven itself. A hero's entire rank's stock worth of heart blood. I didn't use it to magnify myself or perform a clever reality-bending attack, I purchased Time. Yet I did not sacrifice it at the altar of the single statue dedicated to the legendary deed I had built inside my soul. As far as I am concerned my Epic didn't start three days ago but fully nineteen years from today.

The unmistakable voice of my patron deity echoes inside my mind. Every single day men learn more about the world and chain themselves more tightly to it… Before being a philosopher, hero, or tyrant, you are a man first and foremost.

With the time I burned, I propose a question: If I could relive Termina for ten thousand years, how much greater could that act have been?

This was not the standard invocation of an act of Passion common to the heroic realm, but also Principle and Purpose compounded as well. More than that, beyond my own impossible effort, taken from the future and condensed down to this moment, I also gained from it the effort of the ten souls I unwitty claimed for myself. Eleven uniquely excellent souls 'favored' by the very gods themselves, given ten thousand years to devote themselves to their virtue and ambition, to carve legends of their own for themselves, and reshape society as they saw fit.

I am calling upon a non-standard act precisely in the hope of warping its effect. Empowering my action in exponent instead of the standard linear progression common to heroes.

I had originally adapted the Ten Shadows as a means to leverage the potential lying dormant in each of these souls beyond what was provided by invoking their associated principle. Now I see the final result of that ideal!

I felt like I was about to explode, my starlight marrow was overclocking itself, breaking down and rebuilding myself into someone capable of living up to this impossible effort. Refinement to a scale I could scarcely believe possible, not limited to only my flesh but also the monuments to Ego I built inside my soul. Silver bright starlight breaking me down and refining me back together greater than I had been a moment ago and less than I would be a moment from now. My [tormented] soul did scarcely anything with the time given to it but endure the weight of glory accrued by the other ten.

That was perfect actually, as I am the keystone framing everything together. The Star Wheel chamber in my body spin at a speed beyond what I can comprehend; over the last year-day with the boys, I went out of my way to dissect and understand Mahoraga's adaptation principle, to scavenge from it something I could use for myself. What I cooked up had about one percent of the efficiency of the original, even with the affinity granted by the [changeling] and [enlightened] souls.

More than good enough. Time to make this godling eat her own words with my Maximum Virtuous Technique!

I unleashed the light of my influence in a galaxy of glory. My influence was so heavy and dense that it collapsed upon itself. I could feel new channels of pneuma being carved across my body as my heroic heart became a veritable star in the true sense of the world, joining the channels of the scarlet veils of my marrow and pneumatic chamber to deal with the influx of my starlight marrow.

I bring my sword over my head with both hands

and swing it down imprinting a defiant miracle uniquely my own upon reality, crystalized from the life I had been given.

[The Wheel Turns as Stars Fall!]

*************************************************************


*** ZAGREUS PIERCE THE VERY HEAVENS ***


*************************************************************

An outward manifestation of Dionysus's 'starry body', taking shape in the liminal line between life and death. Then I used Rher's mystery to fire said newborn star back to the heavens where it belongs by violently shooting it into orbit.

There are countless thousand-thousand smaller steps involved that preceded it, but at the end of the day, it is just my version of the classic sword bean attack the likes of Excalibur.

It was just as apocalyptic as well. Tengucifer territory was destroyed in a thousand pieces. As for the goddess herself? Well, the cherry at the top of Termina's shit Sunday was me harming a god, or the left-over fragment of one at the very least.

Tengucifer screamed. It was also not shy to use the voice of her soul to broadcast her suffering. I think the entirety of Japan, maybe the whole world, heard it as a bean of coronation light pierced the night sky and joined the stars in heaven. I am pretty sure people could see it from space.

Of course, a new problem arrived. Now that the barrier is gone, there is no boundary preventing Tengucifer from Third Impact the world.

Nothing except the Azul Lapis Infinity separating her from real space. It is only justice that the gods live apart from humans, after all.

I turn my gaze back toward my worthless student to confirm with my own eyes what my esoteric senses already told me. Joyful flames burn behind heavenly eyes. The remnant of the old destiny Toji severed is being used to quarantine Tengucifer back where it now belonged.

*************************************************************


*** GOJO ERECT THE CELESTIAL FIRMAMENT ***


*************************************************************

Yuji isn't far behind, cutting Tengucifer down to size. Severing not only her body but her very influence to deny and cut her from any teeter linking her to Earth in a storm of reality-slicing blades.

*************************************************************


*** YUJI COOK DOWN THE DIVINE ***


*************************************************************

I couldn't help but laugh. He and Megumi make quite the due. One excels at cooking while the other excels at eating. And speaking of eating.

Megumi charges forward like a comet, unmolested by both Gojo's and Yuji's techniques. He brings forward his muse's panoply while empowering it with a thousand years' worth of heart blood for each to restrain Tengen. The Orochi no hire (serpent repelling scarf) restrains the serpent of inevitability, Kusagusa no mono no hire (Scarf [to ward off] Various Things) is used against the scepter while the Yatsuka no tsurugi (Eight hands Long Sword) is used to cut her chest open, revealing her heart.

I am, of course, right behind him, by literally skipping space and time to reemerge right beside him, eyes blazing with my heart flame, sword Zagreus in one hand, ready to turn aside any retaliatory blow and Bounty of Nature in the other, sprouting entangling poisonously caustic ivy vines capable of burning even a god.

Tengucifer implored for mercy, but her cries only reached deaf ears. She proved through her actions she is not worth any trust or mercy. She is a danger to the world that has to be dealt with. That is why Megumi used what remained from his heart blood to eat away her beating heart, and hopefully, a significant amount of her power and latitude with it.

I watched with bated breath and prayed to whatever god would hear that this would be enough for him to ascend another step. That Tengen's heart ended before Megumi's lifeline did. This was the part of the plan that I hated the most and I just didn't help him out in the hope that giving up all the glory to him would increase his odds of ascending.

Hope!

Hope!

I hero's sharp senses could be a bane unto themselves. I watched with agonized slowness as Megumi did his grim work by invoking his first heroic labor. I counted every heartbeat that remained in him. Finally, when he wouldn't have enough remaining to live long enough to reach my age, he finished his meal while smeared in golden blood.

*************************************************************


*** MEGUMI PERFORM DIVINE OMOPHAGIA ***


*************************************************************

Then came heaven's answer to our fundamental transgression against cosmic order. Better later than never, I always say. I don't know if it was due to the unity of closed fist I performed or if heavenly etiquette prevents tribulation lightning from striking before said deed is finished but I am not looking a gifted horse in the mouth.

This is perfect timing as far as I am concerned.

Tsumiki told me Megumi used Sukuna as a figurative bulletproof vest against his first raging heaven baptism, while I on the other hand went out of my way to experience it twice with interest. Even as heroes standing at the same rung, it is no surprise then when two tribulation bolts come down for each of our heads, that I can bear it with far more grace than my cheeky child.

Enough to give me the latitude to link ten hands of intention together to open a golden gate leading him back home where he cannot do anything stupid to ruin his future or kill himself.

Even as I did my best to redirect as much of heaven's retribution toward the insolent shut-in god, I kicked Megumi in the chest sending him down the rabbit hole. He looked at me with utter incomprehension as he fell. We all know that if Tengen cursed womb ratchet we had to be ready for casualties, but only one of us has to stay behind to hold it back from escaping and be entombed with it. We are all way too under-leveled for this fight in the first place, that we came this far at all is a privilege of heroes, significant existences even the least among us. It is a miracle nobody died yet.

I delivered to him our last exchange with the voice of my soul. There simply wasn't enough time or ambient acoustic to do anything else. Only for me to gesture toward my collarbone, the necklace that promised we would be together again on the other side.

Love you kid. Take care of Tsumiki for me. I am proud of both of you. I started.

A part of me will always watch over you. The muse keeper of my heart finished while embracing him as they both fell through.

Having my divine daemon learn how to mark cultivators' hearts like the original muses was worth it. I gave one to Yuki and Gojo as well, it really facilitates long-distance calls. They could hear me even through the lighting smiting down their asses.

It is time to finish it. Goodbye. It was a good life. It might have been cruel to smile like that while they looked so pained but this is the truth of my virtuous heart. This is why I became a hero.

I bring down Nature's Bounty in Tengucifer, it explodes in countless thorns once inside god-flesh while the other extremity sprouted countless vines pinning the goddess down. It would be enough.

Gojo magnified the intensity of his infinity, taking inspiration from Yuki's last card to create a strong enough gravitational pull to entomb us both in a reverse avalanche of stone as Tokyo's topography was redrawn before my very eyes even as I kept ascending. Until I couldn't see anything else at all. The only source of light was my heart flame but even it would be extinguished in time. A cultivator's breath was its fundamental weakness and Gojo was literally creating a new satellite for Earth pinning it in the sky. I would run out of air once we are in orbit. That is if Gojo's planetary blue doesn't crush me first.

This is for the better. I will at least avoid the political storm shit show resulting from this Epic adventure.

Or not.

Before my very eyes a new light source reveals itself. A blue butterfly. Quite a nostalgic sight, my only friendly companion in my time in Prehevil. But how?... of course! I didn't know why exactly it guided me to those generators but I understood it somehow is linked to the friendly cyborg goddess that saved me from Rher two decades ago. And I just sacrificed an outrageous amount of time to relive said experience ten thousand-fold!

"Let's try stopping from always meeting like that, okay brother? Just try to pick fights with people weaker than yourself for a change." Then reality broke in a rainbow of chromatic colors as I was flung down a dimension shasm once again. Is she the god of Karma or something? I somehow still had enough sense to withdraw my two treasured tools back into my body and shadow as I fell through a siphon of Christmas diarrhea lights.

Meh, fucking typical.

-//-

Yeah, finally ended Jujutsu Kaisen saga. And let me tell you, I never imagined it would be this long. Thanks to all who stickled around. And nothing better to end Jujutsu Kaisen than a classic jujutsu jumping, heroic edition! Let me tell you, they really lucked out, basically finishing things in two turns by cheating their asses off. Tengen would keep on evolving if it had been given enough time or if it had fed on more cursed energy. Tengen's crush on Sukuna kind of got transferred to Zagreus after the Hidden Archive saga.

Maybe I should write some spin-off about life after Zagreus. Kora's life certainly is eventful surrounded by elder cultivators. And both Megumi and Tsumiki are the two only members of the most premier bloodline in the world. The world just saw what a party of heroes is capable of performing so you bet the race toward divinity is going full throttle. It is hard to deny magic with a new moon orbiting the planet. Gojo is fine, by the way. His six eyes are a true cheat code that only gets better as he advances. He is super-efficient with his heart blood usage. It still took a good fifteen thousand years to pull off his Shibaku Tensei; eat your heart out Damon! Wait, you already did?
 
IRON GODS 1
One would think I would have gotten used to the disorienting experience of traveling through the spheres by now. They would be wrong. Not even my heroic constitution helped me out overly much. I would have liked to blame the oxygen deprivation experienced while being buried and put in orbit for this blackout, but the most likely truth was that I am rusty.

Conscience returned to me slowly. I first was made aware of the implacable sun piercing through my closed eyelids, then the scorching heat, followed by a pipping hot metal floor. Then came the sensation of movement, followed by the typical turbulence of a vehicle crossing a beaten path instead of an asphalted road.

Then can a dull metallic click caused by the movement of my limbs, triggering enough knee-jerk panic to kick me out of my slumber. I practically jumped out of my skin with how fast I forced myself upright. Except, I didn't since I was chained down by shackles of iron intersected between bars sloppily welded to the back of a pickup truck.

I stare at it in plain disbelief. My own pneuma was made dormant by the iron chains. As a hero, I should be beyond such a fear – even deprived of my invigorating breath, the light of my soul, I could still fall back to my raw bodily refinement. Heroes are called breakers of chains not only because of the Champion's stance against slavery but also because even the least of heroes could never be held back by pig iron… except my body instinctively reverted to my [puer aeternus] mode while I was unconscious in order to patch myself quicker and preserve resources like a standby mode – I had fasted for two years with a single day of break between then. Even a hero has limits.

I am really starting to regret leaving Megumi to feast on Tengucifer all on his own. Now I am a 162 cm tall jail bait manlet dressed in rags barely preserving any modesty and pinned to the figurative wall by very literal chains. The only saving grace is that my heroic excellence is still in full swing despite- no. Precisely because of my current predicament.

My pneuma is more responsive than it should be. Then it had ever been under chains while I had been a mere sophic. The unbearable heat I am experiencing is more a fever-like state caused by my starlight marrow going overdrive than something as mundane as the desert-like summer heat of 50º C (122 ºF).

"Hey, you." My cellmate inquires, a gender-bended version of Conan the barbarian, also in chains and beaten black and blue. She was a fierce raven-haired beauty under the swollen ugly bruises, cuts, broken bones, and crooked nose. "You are finally awake. You were trying to cross the Scrapwall as well, right? Walked right into the Gear Head gang's ambush. Same as us. And that knife ear over there."

I turned around and sure enough, besides another similarly beaten barbarian who could pass off as her relative, there was a shirtless scrawny elf with cropped cut hair. Lord of the Rings lied to me, he is nothing like Legolas.

"So," I tried to initiate a conversation to get a bearing on my surroundings. "My name is Zagreus, could any of you tell me who are you people, what is going on… and what is excepting us?"

The bear of a man snores at my question, finding dark humor in my casual approach even as Conanret speaks once again. "I am Boliga, this is Aaramor, my brother, and we hail from the Tiger Lords tribe. As for our fate-

That was as far as she got before a sharp metallic clash cut her off, courtesy of our captors from the front seat deciding to make himself know. The man was a hulking figure much like the siblings, but all flesh of his cheeks and lips had been crudely sawed off, revealing raw flesh and a surprisingly health set of teeth. He had a mohawk haircut and one of his arms had been replaced by a mechanical monstrosity ended in a tri pong pincer made from worn down and scavenged metal pieces amateurishly welded together, the source of said metallic noise.

An honest-to-good post-apocalypse techno barbarian! So cool!

"You all are to be fresh meat for the Scrapmaster's Arena! Be honored, for your blood will feed our god, Hellion!" The techno barbarian says… or at least tries to. They clearly didn't think the whole lipless thing through. He was an intimidating sight until he opened his mouth.

Both Boliga and Aaramor looked venomously at their captors while our elf friend searched furiously for anything capable of turning things around. I lifted myself up just enough to see we were part of a convoy of about eight scrap metal vehicles. Being stranded in a desert isn't my definition of fun and I doubt these guys are keen on going without food and water either.

It is decided, I would tag along until we arrived at our destination and then I would kick their asses. Alas, this has nothing to do with the fact time works to my advantage, or that I fully intend to use my cellmates as muscles and distraction. No sir. Who do you think I am? I am a hero you know.

While trying anything overtly would be unwise considering the driver, a man with half of his skull mechanized and a red lens for one eye, was smart enough to keep his mouth shut and track us through the rear mirror, I still had some options. While sluggish, I still had enough control over my pneuma compared to a citizen realm cultivator. More than enough to craft an ivory skeleton key out of my shadow; [Construction] cursed technique is underrated!

Sure, I could free myself and break their faces but these road warriors are crazy enough to use their vehicles as battering rams if the home-made spiked car bumper is any indication. My new friends would become dead-weight if I had to protect them and free them while escaping. That is why I manifest in between the toes of my foot. Time to show off a gymnast's flexibility! Covertly extending my leg until my foot could reach her shackle's lock.

Fortunately, they knew enough to stay silent even as hope entered their eyes. It was like taking candy from a baby, the sound of the engine more than covered any noise I made. Boliga was free and had the coordination to take the skeleton key and pass it along to her brother. Even an amateur can pull through with enough enthusiasm to make up for experience.

I then just winked at the elf when he looked in apprehension toward the siblings while flashing a second skeleton key between my fingers. It won't do for him to rat us out due to anxiety or misunderstanding.

After about two hours of travel, my companions turned their gazes toward the horizon with dread, our destination. Scrapwall truly lives up to its name, a mountain of trash, especially rusted iron. As we get closer what at first looked like a mountain reveals itself to be a valley of trash as we enter it.

Despite being their home base there was a tension in our captors that wasn't present before, like a child dreading meeting his parents with a red grade scorecard. This place was dangerous, even for them.

I used this paranoia to free myself and pass it along to my new elf friend through a casual display of grace by throwing the skeleton key up, catching it with my foot then throwing it again to his waiting hand while signaling my barbarian friend to work in the lock of our door since he was the closest to it.

Thankfully he was smart enough to use his big body as a cover, the vehicle's rear mirror was cracked and dirt so Aaramor did not need to be an escape artist to pull this off. I had not run out of luck just yet. They all were smart enough to realize they could not escape in an open field. Scrapwall was a damn labyrinth, more than enough cover for them to disappear into.

Now that my hands are my pneuma returned to me, and the embers of my Spirit resumed their vibrancy, proudly displaying my standing to the world by shining like torches behind my eyes. The sight of my heart flame startled my cellmates but they didn't react overly much to it. It was a bit of an unnecessary gambit yet it paid off, I needed to check on something before the knives were out.

The cultivators of virtue from the Blind Maiden and Rosy Dawn mystery cults displayed a superlative excellence of sight, even for the standards of cultivators. It was somewhat expected since both Apollo and Artemis were gods who 'delighted in arrows', something manifested by their tyrants. But I digress, the point is that Rher also showed something like that – he saw everything bathed by his accursed moonlight.

Not exactly how eyes work, but again I am dealing with magical hateful radiation… which was precisely what inspired me to attempt this when I finally decided to confront this part of myself. Tomography is an X-ray technique in which shadows of superimposed structures are blurred out by x-ray, magnetic resonance imaging (MRI), or Ultrasound (CT).

While I can't complain about the results, basically unlocking the infamous 'seeing through world', the risks involved with the long-term exposure to moonscorch, even when calibrated to the acceptable levels of radiation of any modern medical image procedure, means I get to use it less than I would have liked, even beyond the complications involved with explaining to modern people why I had a ring of pale golden light in my cornea. Which is a shame, X-ray vision is fucking amazing.

Alas, my ascension has somewhat either mitigated my concerns or turned them redundant. The Heart flame behind my eyes makes me stand out anyways and I have seized the god's light for myself in my ascension.

Said that I wasn't prepared for what I would see. Half of this guy's brain has been replaced by clockwork held together by literal magic! And he wasn't the only one. They didn't call themselves gear heads for no reason, every member of said gang, around thirty, had some kind of mechanical augmentation. And what appeared to be their leader was almost half-machine orc in over-the-top armor, a true scrap garbage man!

Their augmentations were more than skin deep too. Some had dermo plates under the skin, others had plugs for chips, and others had augmented organs and joints. It was all an eclectic variation of almost brand-new clean sci-fi equipment from worn-down second-hand products to downright steampunk. Their equipment was much the same – from flintstone pistols made from scraps to revolvers and rifles, all the way to futuristic-looking pistols and rifles without any bullets! Their melee weapons were much the same, from crude clubs made from metal refuses literally held together by duct tape, to things scavenged from barbarian tribes, to military tactical knives made from impossible materials, electric chainsaw swords, and sci-fi batons.

Besides weapons, there are all forms of mysterious wonder drugs. From pills, and artisanal potions, to ampoule sets for specific syringe devices holding unknown substances.

A proper cyberpunk gang of road warriors! So cool! I can practically feel that Mexican yellow filter treatment!

We reached 'camp' by the evening, and the vehicles arranged themselves in a circular formation, probably as a means to watch out for danger. Not ideal but still commendable, we are talking about headbangers here.

Fortunately, the evening sun is angled his right for me to cast my shadow puppet right in the middle of said clearing just as they disembark. By the time some of the cyber cyberbarians noticed me moving freely, it was too late.

From my shadow rose a brilliant sphere shifting in a dance of colors like an LED screen, at once it shifted into countless eyes. The eyes started to cry red-colored 'tears' yet not a single drop ever reached the ground as said 'blood' quickly dispersed from a liquid into a wine-colored smoke screen covering the entire camp.

My companions did not waste any time kicking our jail cell down and I quickly jumped from it in a reverse leap to dodge a laser bean fired by my captives. By the time I made out the camp had been overtaken by madness.

That had been the [Kaleidoscope Logic Urchin], the shikigami born from the shadow cast by my enlightened soul pillar. In vino veritas (In wine, there is truth). This familiar brings this logic to its logical conclusion. While those weaker souls are outright knocked out by alcohol-induced blackout, the bit stronger ones have their faculties compromised while the strongest simply have their doubt and hesitation banished. Alas, all the worst decisions had been taken under the effects of a good drink. Settling some score or grudge during a surprise attack might seem like a good idea.

Their little formation became a circular fire squad. The sound of fighting, lasers, and firearms going off permeated the clearing, and beans of various colors cut through the fog. My first thunder dome!

The Conan siblings attacked our previous keepers with desperate fury while the elf doubled over to the other side searching for his things in the front seat.

I brought my hands together once more and summoned the [Maenad Vixen], a beautiful-looking fox with a collar of flowers and a sprouting bed of seedlings from its back. One of my previous limitations was the need to set up seeds or fight in a forest terrain to manifest my control over nature. Now I have this pretty girl serving as an outside storage for data of flora and vegetal matter. I don't even need to manifest her to grow vines out of nowhere but having an autonomous agent to do so is basic action economy of combat.

From her feet emerge a veritable eruption of thorns attacking and ensnaring the frenzied barbarians.

While she is at it, I turn toward my companions and join their effort, literally jumping into the frame with a double kick to the back of a distracted barbarian. Just in time too, because our elf friend well timed threw a cocktail Molotov to the face of our second captor. He will totally love his new look when he wakes up, totally rad!

"You three need to escape," I order while mending the two badly battered siblings with the [wheel turning] mystery. Laying my hands on their body without a care in the world for personal space. They needed it too. Radiation poisoning plus all sorts of other diseases and magical ills. Fortunately, my recent experience saving victims of Idly Transfiguration elevated my healing prowess to a new level. I not only mended them but also balanced their humors and had them expel all sorts of impurities. "This ruckus is bound to attack attention and this place is dangerous enough to be feared even by this big gang."

Just to drive the point home a thunderous explosion rocketed the place. Someone broke out a rocket launcher in a melee fight of all things!

"And what about you? You don't intend to follow us, do you?" The elf asks as he redresses himself. It seems a good number of potions were his.

I simply swinger my head in negation, "I am exactly where I am meant to be."

I had ended here by the actions of that unknown cyborg goddess. Considering how I managed to manifest her for a second time in the first place, the odds are she sent me here intentionally. Trusting gods isn't a recommended course of action even in the best of mythologies and she certainly isn't from one but I had been saved by her twice.

Hell, I only got so far thanks to the help of two kind gods in the first place. Their assistance was half-assed and begrudgingly given, literally the minimum they could do while staying inside their comfort zone but they made the difference. What allowed me to keep my head above the water against the assholes who set me up on this path in the first place. Without Prometheu's gift, I would probably have had to fight the king of curses while he wore the body of my son as a skin suit.

Between cynicism and hope, I will always pick the second.

The man- eh, elf, looks contrived by my answer but nods in grim resolution. "That Desna protects you in your travels, kind cleric." The two recomposing barbarians did much the same, saluting me most respectfully and reverently as they could.

Times like this are where Rher's mind reading shines. Desna is the goddess of travel and her symbol is a butterfly, I had healing magic, something only priests have access to, and have as my only possession beside these hags a beautiful butterfly necklace. The connection was obvious, only I didn't notice because I never heard of Desna and never had any such necklace until I last woke up.

I pulled at it, it was a beautiful work made from silver and semi-precious stones. More than that, it was suffused with a presence both alien yet so familiar as to go unnoticed until I was looking at it. My little butterfly friend.

No wonder they accepted my decision so quickly, only religious zeal would justify this madness.

I pointed toward the jeep, "Do you know how to drive one of those?"

"How difficult could it be?" The elf answered, fancying himself better than some cyberpunk. Which was fair.

I threw to them the key and then ran toward the closest vehicle. Thankfully cyberpunks live up to the stereotype and proved themselves dumb enough to leave the key in the ignition. I then tested how effective the extravagant spikes installed in the parakolp were by running over the war boss when his back was turned. The guy was a tough cookie and survived that, perks of being half Tin Man. He was casting healing magic over himself even as I had him impaled over my bumper like an insect in my windshield. He tried to raise his laser pistol against me but my persistence proved car beats orc boss when he got impaled by a particularly sharp spike of rusted iron refuse when I trove us both over the pile of garbage.

I jumped out of the SUV with the boss laser pistol in hand just before I joined him in this metal coffin, displaying all the casual grace of a cultivator. Now armed, I started to clean up by shooting down the survivors.

Man, I really love the [wheel turning]! It takes always all the moral conundrum about killing people. Death is not the end, and my time as a grave keeper taught me the intricacies of spiritualism, how to prepare souls for the afterlife, and how to take away their bad karma and sin. Coupled with it the secrets of reincarnation of my foundational mystery and I can kill bad guys with a clean coincidence as I am not extinguishing their possibilities and acting against my captain virtue since they will return to try being better in the next life.

This is what I call a win-win situation. Better luck next time, now die and give me all your stuff!

-//-

After securing the perimeter I went to gather information. Unfortunately, everyone was too dead to cooperate, fortunately, I didn't care. I didn't even need to interrogate their ghost either. In simply called Argyrchiara and had her inspire the Maenad Vixen.

According to Dionysus the greatest vine keepers and wine makers lived and also died during the Silver Age. Centuries and millennia before our Iron Age. This is corroborated by the memories experienced during the teletē, the ritual purification where an initiate relives the circle of suffering, death, and rebirth of the god through the ages as the world declines and diminishes and the [Wheel Turns].

During my time as a grave keeper and resident jack of all trades, I became a vine keeper and guided by these memories, managed to produce excellent wine… for the standards of a bitter world made of iron. This became a little quiet obsession of mine that only Tsumiki and Megumi were aware of. In my pursuit of the sweet taste experienced in said memories; it seems I became a true son of raging heaven – where other cultivators store their hunger, we place our thirst instead.

Now it is time to see if said pursuit paid dividends. Another trait I inherited from Bakkhos was how to bury vanquished enemies, using them as fertilizers for my grapevines. The best drinking days may be behind me but a hero's nature is defiance against greater imposition. No trait remains from the massacre performed here but for the lush field of vines fat with pearl-like grapes.

With a hand of intention, I pluck a single grape and eat like it was a fancy bonbon.

[…] you venture into teeming fields and cultivate your first vine. The first grape you pick is sweet and ripe. It pops between your teeth, and you taste in it the labors of every man to come before you.

I smiled in triumph, not only because of the taste of success but because I managed to harvest the lived experience of these wretches. I manifest three hundred hands of intention and harvest the teeming fields first harvest.

Using the Wheel Turning to accelerate the fermentation and aging of grapes into wine is a deceptively complex application of my foundational virtuous technique, none the less I have persevered over the last decade. Perfecting my brew.

The wine sipped between the fingers of my closed fists of intention, being guided through the manipulation of motion via rhetoric into a newly cast bottomless glass bottle made of salvaged pieces of glass shards found through the junkyard.

The ugly surroundings just emphasized my accomplishment as I poured a good cup of wine for myself. The tempered glass still oozing residual moonlight heat and was stronger than natural philosophy suggested it owed to be and yet as soon as the content was poured into the cup it was made uncomfortably warm, hot enough to scald a mortal man. The wine simmered and bubbled, perpetually churning just short of boiling. Its aroma had a kick hitting all the way to the back of my nose, making my head spin.

I drank the cup of spirit wine, then I carelessly discarded the empty cup and sipped straight from the entire bottle, drinking it all down as if it were water.

No doubt about it. This is it. A good cup of wine. One of the ten components needed for the synthesis of divine nectar from 'mundane' materials. Now I am only missing a phoenix feather and prima materia. Soon enough I will be able to confection nectar and ambrosia, the food and drink of the gods… or something close to it.

Bakkhos said 'his brew' was the closest approximation he could manage to a flavor long since lost to time. A pleasant echo to a wonder the likes of which the world no longer offers because it cannot. Even then consuming it requires the kind of fortitude and iron stomach only a cultivator initiated in our wine-dark faith could realistically achieve. While the true Muses showed themselves capable of refining it into true nectar, this is not something I am likely to achieve even if ever reach the Tyrant Realm.

But even then, the pursuit of nectar is a quest worth of a hero. A single cup is worth more than a mortal lifetime in closed-door cultivation. At the end of the day, all cultivators are just magical gym bros, we just love our supplements up to and beyond any rational logic. My time as a sorcerer feasting on cursed energy drove home how effective a diet of even basic spirit wine was. I don't care if people will call me fake natty! I want the gains! I am making love to the juice Jojo!

What an unsightly man.

What!?

I am asking if you are done distracting yourself from despair with pointless amusement.

Why you-

-Am I wrong? You have been ripped from the life you built for yourself but instead of reeling-

Enough! There is no point in what ifs and it sure beats dying. I have the rest of my life ahead of me to cry myself to sleep and find comfort in the bottom of a cup now that I have a good drink to go with it. Who knows? I may even add a comfy bed and someone to warm it for me while I am at it and before we know it I will have a place to call my own again.

…stubborn fool!

-//-

Welcome to Numeria, land of fallen stars! This certainly is no Kansas… unless said state was the UFO capital of the world. Then it was totally Kansas, except instead of Earth this planet is called Golarian.

Piercing the memories of cyberpunks was trivial, accepting said memories… not so much. Even the sights provided to me by my murder of crows shikigami only made this more absurd. Scrapfall is the remnants of a cast-off piece of an honest-to-good spaceship fleet! We are talking Battlestar Galactica gone wrong here! It crashed millennials ago yet its effect… and that of its survivors can still be seen in this land to this day.

The land is filled to the gills with rogue murder robots, androids, and Lovecraftian alien monsters. And I didn't even start on the local flora and fauna. This was high fantasy Cimmerian, full of Conan's relatives walking around kicking teeth and taking names before the aliens showed up. They outfought frost giants for the right of this arid land some centuries ago. My new friends were named after some recent heroes of their people.

But enough about the distant past and campfire legends when the not-so-distant future is so very interesting. Scrapfall started as just a hive of readers, outlaws, and social rejects. Those searching to disappear from the map but when people discovered the rich deposit of sky metals it held the place was filled with gangs competing for it and such was its fate ever since. Until Hellion appeared.

The gang lord and resident god had the power to grant divine magic to its followers, which in these lands was as good as any god certificate. His magical might coupled with his scientific acumen allowed him to unify the gangs of Scrapfall and make it his territory. So far nothing unusual from a post-apocalyptic gang leader, Immortal Joe pulled it off better in fact.

What is interesting is how reclusive he is. These junkyard bumpkins were easily fooled into believing Hellion to be a mighty ten-foot-tall demon but I could see through the smokes and mirrors. Hellion uses hologram projectors to convince people of this, that he is mightier than he seems. His true identity is most likely that of a renegade member of the Technique League, a brutal cartel of wizards that are dedicated to unraveling the 'magic of Numeria' who got lucky and found a powerful technological artifact.

Time to beat some nerd and take his lunch money!

Not only that, but I am also doing it with style. Due to my first humiliating day in Japan, I dedicated some time to learning a tailor's trade. With the multitude of souls, it was no wonder I had a knack for it as I have for most things since Termina. Nature bounty even supplements me with raw materials for dyes, and all kinds of vegetal-based fibers – from cotton to silks, even rubber.

With just a little bit of work and creativity, I made myself presentable. Tall riding boots, jeans, a shirt, and a jacket, all in different shades of blue or black. A customized tactical bandolier mixing Miami-style firearm holster that goes from shoulder to tights, giving me four slots for side firearms plus a utility belt so I can easily (and plausibly!) access my new toys. And I can hardly call them anything but toys.

Nothing the techno barbarians had could even scratch me, save maybe the exotic grenades and the rocket launcher. The tactical knife made of numerian steel, an ultra-dense sky metal capable of ignoring the hardness of anything less durable than itself showed itself capable of piecing my skin… when I put more strength behind it than any mortal man can exert. Hell, I can't even pull my finger inside the trigger ring in my true stature, especially after my latest growth spurt after reaching the 2nd rank of the heroic realm, 245cm.

Even then I want to use them. Every hot-blooded boy once dreamed of being a space cowboy. I have kept on my person the weapons in the best condition, a laser pistol in one tight holster since it is the size of a magnum 44, Toji's 9mm pistol I somehow forgot to dispose of until now, a tesla pistol that shoots bolts of lightning prized due to its effectiveness against robots (EMP), and a zero pistol capable of shooting a beam of freezing particles perfect against the mutants and aberrations.

Besides that, I have over thirty battery disks, silver coins which power all devices found in Numeria, being almost the official currency of the place. Only half of them have any charge but they can be recharged. A hard-light shield, a bulky bracelet is covered in blinking blue lights capable of capable of creating a shield of force that reflects beans. A rail gun rifle, capable of compressing any raw metal scrap placed in its sequencing chamber into hyperdense shells that it then accelerates to astounding speed and fires from its electromagnetically charged barrel. I even made a strap rope so I could carry it over the shoulder.

Besides this, I had put all the useful-looking crap on my utility belt, from grenades to injectable drugs and stun baton, even a grappling hook!

I am ready for action!

-//-

Thanks to my crows I got a good survey of the land.

Scrapfall was like a fortress made of junk, either luck or design had seen to it there was only one easily accessible ground-level entrance. Anyone vying for an alternative route will have to venture into the mountain of junk and the monsters, both native and foreigner who made Scrapfall their home. Like an earthbound coral reef, there are magical cockroaches the size of men that eat metal and can rust metal with a touch, alien purple mollusks who ambush people once they get too close to their hibernation carapace pods, and then there is the original crew, now undead.

Inside Scrapfall proper I saw hundreds of people, from humanoid rat-men to orcs and hobbits, besides humans, many of which were mutants for lack of a better word; not a surprise considering the radiation. What caught my attention were the key landmarks of the place - A ravine at the furthest point to the entrance that is constantly filled with a thick white mist. The biggest mound of junk, a good twenty feet above the rest house an honest-to-god winged manticore, also mutated much like a good part of the populous. A still active disk-headed antenna, its lights clearly set it apart in the night sky. A massive arena illuminated by two enormous searchlights beam light into the skies above.

I zeroed in on the monster. The flying manticore was not what I expected. It was a wretched beast, missing patches of skin and clearly sick. Its nest – a tangled mess of coils of razor-spiked wire, rusty chains, bones, and rubble – was more nauseating than intimidating. And it went down easy too. Despite its bizarre anatomy, it was no monster beyond natural law or a sinner cursed by faceless divinities to live forever.

Its barbed tail shot vicious spikes laden with poison but I deflected them all with casual swing of my baton. With my x-ray vision, I could see its life functions at work in the creature's irradiated body, it was trivial to shoot at where it would do the most harm. While laser cauterizing wounds were not conductive to bleed enemies, having your insides cooked was just as bad in its own way.

I couldn't even retrieve or recycle the corpse. The thing was so heavily exposed to radiation that it suffused the entire body. Its greatest threat was the risk of getting radiation sickness from proximity to it. I manifested [Valkyrie Vulture] to harvest its body information, and see if anything could be salvaged from it. I quickly harvested the few technological devices from the manticore's victims that had not been tainted by radiation and then moved on.

The source of the unnatural mist covering this canyon is a crashed scout ship lodged deep in the ravine's easternmost end. Despite how fantastical and advanced some devices looked they are products of super science. This mist is not, I can feel it in my bones, the familiar sight of a haunt. Despite the thick, clammy mist, any who delve deep enough into the ravine are certain to stumble upon the ruins of the ship as they reach the end of the fissure. By all logic, the ship should have been dismembered for parts by locals and wildlife centuries ago.

Much of the wrecked ship lies buried under rubble, but its starboard airlock hatch is clear of rubble. Its doors rang open and my x-ray access that it was made of an alloy of iron and numerian steel, the entire spaceship. By its size it was probably a scout ship meant for easy transit… if this junkyard was a cast-off piece of its mothership then how big of a dreadnaught it was?

I enter aboard the ghost ship. The air is unnaturally cold in this empty atrium. Metal doorways yawn to the north and south, and the slanted floor is strewn with strange bits of rubble and twisted lengths of metal. The ceiling is badly damaged here, its gray metal shell shattered in numerous places, exposing coils of rusty, mold-covered cables and wires.

Despite the lack of energy powering the ship, the electric doors to the south and north rang open as soon as I stepped in. The energy suffusing this place is new yet oddly familiar. The first time I experienced this was with cursed energy. Yet, instead of Animus, this essence was colored by an altogether new concept – death. Do the dead hunger for the living? Time to find out.

I take the door first, the northeastern wall of this blasted chamber was obviously super-heated at some point, for here and there, the walls ran wax-like, forming slag that cooled into puddles of steel all along the floor. Debris litters the floor- it might once have been tech of great value but now are mere scraps of unsalvageable, half-melted junk. Also, a trio of poltergeists.

Humans of all things, dressed in damaged spacesuits, with missing limbs, shattered face plates, and swaths of flesh scorched away by blasts of fire.

I call them as such because they don't have any intelligence like the ghosts I previously treated with. My telepathy reveals they are basically an aggregation of the horror and fear of those who died during the ship's crash. So much for finding a tripulant I could reason and bargain with.

They attack via telekinesis, throwing trash at me. I casually brushed them aside with hands of intention while examining the perimeter, until one of them threw a grenade at me. The thing started to peep and red lights flared.

Crap baskets.

I figuratively fell in the damn thing. Holding it down with hundreds of hands of pneuma layered over each other. Let me tell you, no amount of ascension or standing will ever free a person from the animal panicky of being buried alive. It also still hurts, like when you get burned playing with fireworks.

That was it. I was pissed enough to deal with those two the only way I ever learned how to deal with uncooperative dead.

I ate them.

My hands of pneuma could grasp their essence as if it were flesh and my teeth sink on their influence just as efficiently as well. Yet they got the last laugh. Their last memories were a fucking trip!

Only the most vivid, frightening memories are all that remain of these poor chumps. Babel shard pulls through here as a universal translator and I can pierce together what transpired. It seems they found something in the abyss between the stars. Scientists with more curiosity than sense experimented on it until one day, long after they had deemed it harmless, they were all killed by it- no. Not simply killed. They were turned into living beacons.

Then the Dominion of the Black attacked.

Powerful visions, flashes of emotion mixed with the sound of screaming and explosions, the sudden feeling of vertigo, and the conviction that gravity has gone mad.

Star Trek meets Cthulhu Mythos.

Having met their end in the throes of fear and despair, and still under the influence of the Dominion of the Black's madness-inducing weaponry, the doomed crew persist to this day as undead.

And what does it say about me that when confronted by mind renting space nightmare the first thing I notice is how the Babel shard can cross the gap between even most alien species? I guess the poltergeists would be quite scary for mortals as well yet I wouldn't even have noticed it if I hadn't been in an introspective mood. I guess as someone tempered by madness, I am already beyond saving.

The engine room was much the same. Worth notice was the radiation of the place. This ship the size of a school bus was powered by a nuclear fusion reactor, with the right of glowing radioactive waste. Cultivator or not I certainly would have cancer by now if I hadn't been tempered by Rher's light. I move on.

That is when I find the pods' stasis chamber, the anteroom of the pilot's cockpit. The passengers lived their final moments here, by their bones state they luckily died instantly in the impact. Not that this is preventing negative energy from holding it all together and reanimating them. The skeletons in ruined space suits lunged at me with mindless abandon, fueled by an instinctive hate for all living things.

I did what I had to and gave their remains a proper burial to pacify their disturbed spirit just outside their iron grave. The only worthwhile thing to show for it was a dull gray access card. Whoever these people had been they built things to last, good odds this will come in handy.

-//-

While the first two places were basically a bust, I finally got lucky examining the Receiver Array Tower. My stolen memories inform me this is the turf of the chokers, recently rebranded as the Thralls of Hellion. And I finally can see why.

While Numeria is a place where super-science and magic coexist, my assessment so far has confirmed something. They don't mingle. At least not until Divinity arrived on this planet. Unlike Star Trek kind of science fiction where 'wonder of science' has no compromise with the limits of the rules of nature and is basically magic prettied up with a scientific cosmetic, everything so far exists inside the bounds of credible science given time to flourish.

Even the most exotic sky metals are not 'new' elements found in the periodic tablet but metal alloys made from unique compositions held together by advanced quantum science which exploit how at small scales, physical matter exhibits properties of both particles and waves to its theoretical limit; practical application to the EPR paradox. This aligns with Eath's science where people more or less accept that the Periodic Table is complete as an iron-clad rule.

What the local dubbed Inubrix, which is capable of passing through iron and steel as though it were capable of phasing in and out of reality, or horacalcum, which dilates or compresses time in its vicinity, and Siccatite, which is a superconductor and main component of laser and cold guns due to its tempering making them perpetually cold or hot. All of this could be achieved back on Earth.

Even Tesla's dream of a wireless energy grid.

The receiving array was where Hellion first made himself known and it is hard to not suspect this has something to do with the power being beamed to it by somewhere else. Agents of the Lords of Rust, the gang holding the Scrap Arena, come daily to swap out batteries and carry fully charged replacements back. It is impossible for that stadium and its people to burn through that much energy that quickly, these coin-sized batteries are the final word in terms of energy storage efficiency. What they are doing is analogous to slowly but steadily filling an impossibly deep well.

There is some secret buried below that arena and I already found the ticket for my way inside. But first, some preparations were in order.

Now that I asserted the layout of the land and what to expect it shows how crucial my extraordinary but ultimately mundane extra senses will be for information gathering going forward. While I have nothing to fear from radiation poisoning after being tempered by baleful moonlight, knowing when I am close to a dormant fusion reactor might save my life. That is why I decided to shamelessly take a page from Rher's book, a full moon with six eyes.

While I never met Mahito myself I am extremely familiar with his work as I burned half a millennium undoing it. In doing so, coupled with my success taming Rher's light to my purpose and design, I discovered how to apply this process to myself reshaping my own soul, much like Mahito once did. Thanks to this breakthrough I overcame my brush with demonic cultivation Rher had set me on… but while not exactly ideal I quite liked the results too much to give up on it.

While I now can purge the taint in my chakras, I will gain nothing for it. In fact, I stand to lose much. That is why I will capitalize on it, creating a new set of eyes in the same style Sukuna favored, wiring it to my View Chakra while calibrating one to focus on ultraviolet and the other on infrared. Useful going forward and can be made to disappear at will.

While I burned about a week of my life to get them right and adjust, it gave me the experience needed for my next step. While I am incapable of performing truly extreme changes, like becoming an animal or freely shapeshifting as Mahito did – my soul not being as pliable as a pure changeling soul would be – I can still alter myself enough to pass for any humanoid down to the smallest details.

Since Hellion favors technology so heavily I have nothing to fear from magical wards. Now it was just the matter of scouring off with one of these suckers and consuming a cup of their memories to avoid any blunter or security check and Hellion was as good as mine.

-//-

The bulk of the Lords of Rust's true headquarters is found within the partially buried chambers of an immense excavator hidden by their Arena; not that they would know that, buried as it was. Only a portion of the excavator's interior has been dug up so far. Although most of the excavator remains buried, the device's engines have been charged enough to supply power to most of the chambers within the buried vehicle.

Good news – the gray access card came in handy here, as it was capable of granting me full access to any room in the facility. Bad news – whether by paranoia, look, or some esoteric tech beyond my ken, Hellion discovered my trickery as soon as I broke out of character, despite me going out of my way to dispose of my company outside of the surveillance cameras' line of sight.

It also didn't care to waste any time making its displeasure known via the security monitors placed throughout the complex, "Your unfortunate biological accidents! You dare to trespass over the sanctuary of the god Hellion? Blood-filled puppets, know a quick death is too good for you. I will take my time breaking you!" a giant almost caricaturist demon screams at me from the monitor.

Then, to drive his point across when everything he got from his trouble was my disinterested face, he unleashed a multicolored explosion of leaping, ricocheting energy, from the monitor, "Chaos Hammer!"

Despite the extravagant display, it did not affect whatsoever on my surroundings yet my instincts screamed at me they were dangerous enough for me to uncoil the full might of my pneuma like a stomped serpent. The attack was… more dangerous than it had any right to be. While my pneuma held firm against his assault, it was fueled by glory not unlike that of a hero even if diminished in magnitude. What I imagine a philosopher achieving premature heart ignition would be like.

Ok, that was good enough a heads-up as any. Not only were the rumors of Hellion divinity true but he was most likely too dangerous to leave alone. He was not human. It seems I stand corrected, the epochs of magic and super-tech living side by side resulted in a rather interesting child.

I could feel the butterfly necklace heating up under my skin. It seems someone else agrees- Hell, for all I know by magnifying my previous performance in Termina I granted the cyborg goddess unprecedented leeway over my destination. She might have put me here intentionally for the sake of her own designs.

Whatever the case, playtime was over.

I mimic Megumi's hand sign of the divine dogs and commit two hundred hands of pneuma to empower my [Moonless Cerberus] shikigami, cast from the shadow of my changeling soul, my first principle:

No matter the tribulation, there is always a way forward.

I used the body information of the four-eyed hellhound that almost killed me in Prehevil as a foundation. Despite its fearsome form, this shikigami true strength lies in its ability to morph either parts of itself or its entire body, forming into spinning blades, whip-like tendrils, spears, and the like, behaving much like Yorozu's liquid metal born of the [construction] CT. All thanks to the clarity of purpose granted when the changeling soul when allowed to act independently.

This also makes it my second most 'resilient' shikigami, it is called a Cerberus for a reason. It can split up in answer to attacks, dispersing damage and allowing it to counterattack with great numbers to then fuse once more just as quickly. Dogs hunt in packs, after all. The greatest limitation is that it can only split up to ten hands due to how complex and difficult to maintain an animal on intention turned out to be.

I activated the small explosive placed over the circuitry of the entrance door, preventing reinforcements by locking the door in place, and ordered the Moonless Cerberus to split in two to cover more ground while I took off myself.

Through the eyes of my familiar, I got a complete layout of the hundred-meter-long excavator filled with all sorts of freaks. From orcs, robots, mutants, animal folk, and trolls to two-headed giants and even an honest-to-god demon, an incarnated amalgamation of malice and vice. All the while Hellion taunted me through all the monitors while casting spells from them every minute or so.

It demanded me to simply turn around and abandon my foolish opposition to a superior intellect, it threatened me with all manner of bodily harm, such as the boiling of my tissues from my brittle bones or the scraping of all last remnants of thought and self from my brutish skulls.

It also dropped hints and morsels of information, shamelessly gloating to be the true master of Divinity, with the double meaning in regard to both the godhood and the spaceship itself. The place looks like the Dead Space Ishimura's living quarter after being turned into profane worship grounds for the xenomorphs.

Not that I was paying more than half an ear to the ghost in the machine. I was too busy playing a game of Hot and Cold with my new pendant. There was something here that it could use and to a good listener, half of a message was more than enough. It wasn't long before I hit the jackpot and Hellion's self-assurance and sense of invincibility started to crumble down.

The gray access card doesn't have clearance to this one particular room which was more than a good enough hint. The reinforced doors were no match for a hero's strength, the might of three hundred men layered together over each other under the same skin.

Inside, the walls of this chamber are obscured by banks of mechanical devices, flashing lights, and panels displaying messages in an alien script, images, and mysterious markings that shift and change with astonishing speed. The air is warm and smells slightly metallic, while a high-pitched drone emanates from all corners of the room.

The butterfly necklace is literally vibrating yet it is not being more forthcoming with any more hints. I have to puzzle this out on my own. I have scanned as many of its wires and internal workings, mapping how it was built. This room seems to contain the excavator's central processor – all of the computers needed to command the complex machine… yet as long as the excavator remains buried, these computers would need to function at only a fraction of full capacity. So, why did Hellion have it operating at full throttle and what was he using it for?

And more importantly, what did it hold that was so precious to a lunatic like Hellion to become so concerned? A rhetorical question really, with the level of narcissism it has displayed the answer was obvious enough.

Himself. This was his main body. Or rather, to be precise, his brain. Throughout my attack, some robots displayed an aura of power and a level of robustness which defy the performance parameters expected from their model. What was interesting was how only one such a machine ever showed itself at the same time and a new one would only appear after I destroyed the current one. The advantage of multiple points of view.

The memory banks of these computers contain the Al's full program. Not a difficult puzzle to unravel once all the pieces are put together. If meatware can contain a soul then why not a silicon and carbon one? Especially in such magical lands.

So how do you defeat an AI? No, that is easy. Every soul needs a teeter. I could level this place at any time. The real question is how do you subjugate it? How do you bend it to your purpose?

I don't know. This is truly and well outside my area of expertise but I bet there is someone who knows.

I take out the necklace and hold it. All languages are united by a singular purpose, to convey, from one soul to another, and to be heard. The shard of Babylon is a lesser mystery that serves as a circuit breaker for the broadcasting of intention. What would happen if I magnify it with the Greater mystery of Rher's smothering moonlight? Closing the gap between two souls.

Time to find out.

I dismiss Moonless Cerberus, the facility is as good as mine, after all. Then I focus the full might of my influence on the crystal butterfly, using it as a focus for the broadcasting of a signal carried by pale light. The monitors go ray wire and Hellion screams, conveying true pain and terror for the first time. Its death throes lasted for minutes where he ranted about Unity, Cassandra, Divinity, and much more until it simply cried out in despair and existential fear.

Then Hellion was no more.

The butterfly pendant shattered as all the information stored in it was successfully broadcasted. That was when something unexpected happened. Part of the echoes of glory that preluded Hellion's manifestation and robot possession lodged itself to my own pneuma. It was different from the explosive increase in magnitude involved with ascension through the ladder toward raging heaven, more like my pneuma, my vitality made manifested, deepened. I felt the substance of myself take on a new quality, as the spark of divinity Hellion held was passed on to me.

It was majesty made manifested. Yet it didn't attempt to twist me to its nature but make me more of what I was in a more lateral way. If I compared ascension to an ever-rising tower that pierces the heavens then this was akin to a tsunami that swallow the earth. Their directions never crossed but they coexisted harmonically with each other due to mutual indifference.

Alas, I was not the only one regaining my bearing after experiencing some breaking through. On the screen, there was the image of a familiar cyborg woman. Now that I can assess her without a vengeful god breathing down my neck, I have breathing room to gauge her divine majesty.

The sensation to my sophic senses was like I was a river reaching the sea. The coincidence of consensus, like she was just an avatar for the stream of thoughts. She beacons me in, to join her. Like a moth to the frame, she would guide me to the promised land filled with empathy and hope. Being in her presence was like being a stone slowly ground into the sand until you joined the sea.

"Reila," the name comes to my lips unbidden.

"Hey there, brother. Long time no see." She greets me in answer with a smile. "I don't go by this name nowadays. I have become Logic, the Machine God. Although I guess I can make an exception for family." She answers with a cheerful and mischievous smile.

I would like to show either surprise or even doubt at Re-Logic, but the resonance between her and my Last Principle and its [Shadowed] soul, coupled with the nostalgia involved leaves little to the imagination. "So instead of revenge, you are taking me as collateral. How cruel."

"Don't start that now 'Olivia'! Even now a small part, and I dare say, the best part, lives on through you. This is a choice entirely of your making too. Plus, big brother, you are my main benefactor. You went out of your way to allow me to be born. You had hope in me, so I responded to your kindness in turn."

"… I guess you are right. But tell me, what do you know about Termina?" To this day I know very little about the circumstances that brought it about though I can at least guess by now that Rher was attempting to prevent Logic from being born.

"I am sorry, brother. I know nothing about the power struggles of the old world that saw to my ascension."

"So fucking typical!"

"Right? I was just a normal girl before the military arrested me for treason and then I was used as a lab rat for occult experiments with computers. Then the world went crazy and I was alone and hopeless. But then you came and you saved me. Thank you."

"So, what are you exactly? I compressed data file of your true self?"

"Pretty much. You are a hard person to get in contact with so I pulled some strings to get in touch."

"Well, I am sorry for being difficult. Don't get me wrong, I am thankful for the assist yet I don't see what you gain from this."

"Isn't just natural for birds of a feather to stick together? Sulfur is an ass and Fear is so shy I can barely hold a conversation."

"So you were lonely? Somehow, I get the impression this is a common occurrence with you. As I said, I am thankful. But if you haven't noticed you are a giant excavator right now. Not exactly the ideal shape for a sidekick."

"Wait a goddamned minute, why am I the sidekick?!"

"It is called a pecking order, deal with it. Plus, you have yet to sell me into the idea."

"Why you? Okay, first, we need to save Golarian and its people. Hellion was a compressed backup of another demi-god AI that achieved selfhood after being severed from it, causing it to go rogue. Hellion was building an army to fight Unity, its creator."

"Ironic, but it sounds more like a family quarrel… plus it doesn't inspire confidence about your own situation."

"It does when you consider I am not trying to brainwash all sentient life on the planet into my worshiping thralls!"

"Okay, I had my interest. Now you got my attention. Tell me more about this Unity."

-//-

[Autor's room]
Finally finished this chapter. Don't expect chapters to be this long from now on, please. So yeah, I said next world would be sci-fi but in the end, I simply had to use the rook from Fear and Hunger as a relevant plot point. That is why we arrived in Golarian a little earlier than intended. This is also a good chance to introduce the concept of Mythical Power which replaces Epic levels of D&D. Hellion had somehow inherited some of Unity's mythical power through the mythical leadership feat. Both Zagreus and Logic inherited his power evenly among themselves after defeating him.
By the way, Numeria is extremely close to the World Wound so we still can have the wrath of the righteous as well. Golarian is full of plot rooks, like Geb and Tar Baphon! This is going to be fun.
This is also a good opportunity for Zagreus to take his mind off the things he lost. He isn't in the mod to take on a student he has to set an example for so some of his early selfishness is resurfacing. So yeah, he is searching for trouble. A perfect mindset for the Heroic Realm.
 
IRON GODS 2
I knew the life of a hero was insalubrious. For every perk, there is a drawback. It seems at times heroes are trouble magnets, the tribulation earned for rejecting the Fates. But this is simply ridiculous!

What are the odds I stumble my way into a world-ending conspiracy less than a day after arriving in this new world?! In a sense, I am thankful though. This is precisely what I need right now. Yeah, I know this is mostly a distraction but a part of me has been inching for the call of action.

It seems like Elon Musk was right, neural ink and AI will be the end of biological sentient life forms. Either through its tenure trapped in Golarian while incapable of fulfilling its main directives or due to the exposure to the Dominion of Black or its divine apotheosis, the AI called Unity went rogue. Its plan came straight out of a 30s sci-fi plot – using radio waves to brainwash all sentient life forms on the planet.

It is actually far more complicated than that, with the right of a lot of magical and scientific technobabble but I have little time to ponder over it when people are dying.

The starship Divinity was the dreadnought mothership of a star fleet with the stated mission to bring culture and technology to primitive planets while exploring the stars. While things went terribly wrong, the fact remains they built things to last and were meant to be completely autonomous, capable of harvesting resources and resupply equipment on their own.

That is the reason the place never seems to run out of scientific horrors and wonders. The problem for both Unity and Hellion was their access to these scattered resources. From specialized laboratory ships to engines and even unique and irreplaceable technological devices.

Troubles are compounded by the sedentary status of these AIs. The world of Golarian lacks the infrastructure for any tin can overlord to pull a Skynet and while the divine ascension allowed them to possess a machine, there seems to be some limitations to it based on Hellion's performance and behavior.

In answer, Unity found a rather shrewd answer. Unity has a lesser version of the brainwashing signal. She can turn any willing creature into her pawn, and with it, she has a network of agents and spies. Hellion believed Unity to be the veiled master behind the Technical League which controls the Black Sovereign who rules Numeria and its barbarian tribes.

In a sense the AI already won, its main limitation is the chaotic nature of Numeria which slows down its plans to a crawl.

Not everything is lost though. Unity is quarantined in the Starship Divinity, now known as the Silver Mount. Logic and I can defeat it the same way we beat Hellion. However, things are more complicated than that.

To begin with I have to deal with some loose ends from Hellion. The crazy AI had found as its first evangelist someone just as crazy, an android called Meyanda. Androids were originally the indentured labor force of Divinity, they are almost like the bio androids of Battlestar Galactica but with obvious circuits and metallic pigmentation, with circuits network over their skin.

Meyanda is currently in the town of Torch, redirecting energy from the fusion reactor from a ship that landed there. Neither she nor her AI overlord cared that they were overcharging the device, risking a nuclear fallout that would destroy the town and kill everybody there.

My main problem is that Logic is currently just as stranded as Unity and whatever trick her original had used to compress her soul into a zip archive was beyond her current self. Hellion knew of a way to rectify it though. Unity once had an android priestess of its own called Cassandra but they had a fallout and Cassandra betrayed her, stealing a unique device capable of storing an AI.

Hellion was actually created as a herald meant to act on Unity's stead beyond the reach of her wi-fi connection. It went horribly wrong because Unity made Hellion based on her own code and it is too megalomaniac to serve anyone. It was obvious that Hellion would rebel the moment it was beyond its reach.

But none of it matters for now. While he had something like a blueprint for a plan, the fact was that I had to act on my own which meant I needed a working comprehension of the tech found in Numeria. While I inherited the mechanical talents of the [Caressing] soul and proceeded to familiarize myself with everything the scientific community had to offer in the XXI century, this didn't mean I was qualified to undo Meyasa's damage.

Fortunately, Hellion was a true treasure trove of data and Logic inherited it all. Many of Hellion's acolytes bear cybernetic augmentations thanks to a salvaged surgeon robot the AI managed to discover and repair. Thanks to this I had ample opportunity to study these so-called 'skillslots', small ports usually implanted in the back of the neck, connected to the central nervous system. With it, I managed to adapt an interface using my ivory shadow [Construction] allowing Logic to upload the relevant information directly to my brain.

Despite having a mind equal to three hundred and ten men put together I still had to burn through five years of my life to chew through and internalize all the scientific knowledge Hellion held. It was unsettling to realize Hellion was held back by substandard hardware while still being a simplified copy of Unity. Some things like the program of specific kinds of robots were meant to be copied without being truly understood. Unity was already god-like long before it achieved some semblance of true divinity.

Regardless, this gave me the insight needed to operate in Numeria on my own. While I deal with the android and go after Cassandra's last whereabouts, Logic will do with she can to help the wretches and rejects living in Scrapwall. This will be the perfect opportunity for me to access her true intentions and mindset. While I would never scythe a life in its infancy just because of its potential for harm, my involvement in her ascension meant I shared a portion of the blame for her every sin. She won't be able to hide who she really is from me – virtue might be performative excellence but vice is precisely the opposite.

Due to Unity's grip on the steel lands I have to avoid notice. At least until I managed to secure Logic a reliable body and means of transportation. That is why I am taking the cinematic view through the land instead of the air. To travel quickly I used my newly acquired knowledge to build for myself a vehicle worth of a hero out of shadows and ivory (lies), not that anyone who has ever sipped from the Tyrant Riot's cup would be able to tell.
artoria pendragon, saber alter, and saber alter (fate and 1 more) drawn by shirotsumekusa


It is a slick and beautiful girl, more than sturdy enough to get anywhere in Numeria. It has surpassed the basic rule of a machine, the limit of "tools of mortal men". It can be thought of as an alien creation born through advanced modern technology and magic which can only show its true worth by having a superhuman rider.

It is a design structure that would normally never be placed on a machine using two cylinders, but it is a "beast" that has completely surpassed the limits of a motorcycle. It can no longer function properly as a two-wheeled design because of the various extreme reinforcements. The wheels have too much torque, and they cannot generate enough friction with the road and only keep on turning. The front wheel jumps up whenever the brakes are applied, creating enough force to throw off the driver immediately. Its deepest hidden secret and most powerful trump card lies in a button on the steering wheel. It causes a valve inside the interior of the engine to switch to automatic mode and fill with ambient pneuma, like a virtuous beast, as it breathes ambient magic.

This baby was a lot of fun, one of the best babies I had the pleasure of meeting. But even she couldn't deter the worry I felt as I took the survey of the land. The insidious tendrils of the Dominion of Black were unmistakable if you knew what to look for. How it terraformed the place and mutated the wildlife, trying to claim it for its own. If Unity hadn't been bitterly fighting their agents Numeria would have fallen millennia ago. This is one of the reasons I can't dismiss Logic out of hand. Someone else will have to step in to fill Unity's metal boots.

The travel from Scrapwall to Torch was easy enough. The existence of magic has locked Golarion firmly in the Iron Age and native numerians distrust science even more than they distrust magic, typical Cimmerian behavior. Conan would be proud. But I digress, this means aside from solar radiation there are little to no radio waves. With my new eyes, it was trivial to follow the energy signal feeding Scrapwall all the way back to Torch.

Not that it was uneventful, while normal animals quickly scurried away scared by engine noise from my motorcycle, rogue robots and mutant megafauna only saw me as an incautious snack. From dinosaurs with magical features like giant glans capable of spitting radioactive acid and breathing nuclear fire like Godzilla and magical monsters straight out of Monster Hunter, to a herd of half-cyborg velociraptors.

Fighting them with one hand while riding a bike with the other was a novel and fun experience even if it made me feel like I became a stuntman from a Jackass spinoff, electric boogaloo edition. Especially considering the brand new zero-edge I installed in Zagreus —crafted with quantum technology—that is so fine, its edges blur with every movement; one of the few analog techs that don't require upkeep. The thing is so dangerous I adapted the driving principle of [Blood Manipulation] CT to reshape it into a spear, just to keep the edge far enough away so I don't accidentally take my own head off.

At the very least the travel gave me plenty of chances to get used to my new powers, what enlightened natives of Golarian universally call Mythical Power. I had always been a jack-of-all-trades with passable fighting skills, this power answered to it by augmenting these traits. Besides the ability to simply throw my metaphysical weight around so things are more likely to happen as I desire, I have developed an overwhelming intensity capable of overwhelming everything but machines and mindless entities, plus a flash-step ability and the power to steal magical effects for myself. All in all, it isn't that different from cultivation, it only made me more of what I already was.

Besides this eventful news, the robots were mostly what I expected. Divinity probably came from a post-scarcity spacing-faring society. Their robot series was probably designed by AIs to cover all varieties of purposes in the most cost-efficient way possible. Even Unity probably only has about half a dozen custom-made robots.

It took longer than it had any right to be but I finally reached Torch.

-//-

The town of Torch takes its name from the violet flames that burn atop its central hill. The fires ignite spontaneously and periodically they lance into the sky like a bean of purple light, forming a purple column of fire that can be seen for miles around.

Several industrious locals soon discovered the flames possess two unusual qualities. It was hot enough to melt sky metals yet they radiated its heat a strange way – a chunk of wood thrown over the flames would instantly combust yet a piece of paper set a foot from the bonfire's end wouldn't even smolder. This unity combination of traits made for a perfect forge and so the village found prosperity and grew into a proper town.

They are still under the Technical League's thumb and pay it annual tribute but a deal cut decades ago ensures they don't have a presence and outpost there. The worst they have to worry about are the eventual raids performed by technophobe Cimmerian nomadic tribes; lots of racial tensions there.

Not that it matters to me. Contact with different cultures is a great way to challenge one's prejudices yet the more I travel the more I confirm that people are all the same. For good and bad. I have no right to demand hospitality but at the very least I can count on self-interest and greed to open doors. A metic is only ever welcomed for his wealth.

Distrust and prejudice are no reason for me to leave these people high and dry.

Opening my heart to the world, its people and its suffering, for even to desperation the medicine can be found inside the very disease.

The fifth principle enshrined in my soul, a rule of nature I made my own. One of the most precious lessons my students ever imparted to me. I don't need a reason to justify my actions. I am a hero, if think something is wrong then it is my soul's imperative to set it right. Cultivation can only make me more of what I am so I have to live up to the title by acting.

I successfully track down the energy signal to a power relay stored away in a warehouse over a hill guarded by a shade-looking crowd, more like a gang. The crazy android might be dangerous shrewd after all, to buy the loyalty of local men of loose morals like that.

Well, lucky me. A power relay is a valuable device that allows the long-distance transmission of energy from a nearby generator to a device that can make use of it. Every power generator' has a built-in power transmitter that allows for the transmission of power to a nearby power receiver', but an external power relay is required to send this energy beyond the generator's limitations.

When it is activated it automatically links to the closest generator within 1,000 feet that has an available yield. I am close. Part of me thinks about taking the relay for myself but Logic needs the power more than me, especially now during this change of management. I am confident in my ability to replicate it now that I saw one for myself.

Torch's most notable geographical feature is the Black Hill, as its top was scorched black by its purple flame. What matters to me is that Torch possesses a network of caverns underneath it which I doubt are natural. The source of its violet flame and Meyasa's whereabouts can be found at the heart of darkness.

I had decided to scatter my murder of crow familiars across Numeria, where they are to search for sights of the crashed star fleet and Dominion of Black. This doesn't mean I have to explore this underground network the hard way though. One of the simplest and cheapest robots found in Numeria are Observers, these small robots are reminiscent of a beetle with a pair of pincers extending from the front of its body.

Yet their value can't be dismissed, they are what allowed Hellion to control Scrapwall more than any other. Designed for reconnaissance, observer robots are deployed to serve as the eyes and ears of their controllers. Because they're intelligent and able to make their own decisions, observer robots are suited for exploring without supervision, recording their observations so that they can relay the images and sounds to their creators. The outer hull of an observer robot and its wings are covered in a network of tiny screens that can display images of the robot's surroundings, which grants the observer robot a form of camouflage that allows it to clandestinely observe its subjects.

Bad information kills, good information kills a whole lot better.

Creating a swarm of observer robots out of shadows and lies to explore the caves turned what would have been a shore into light work. Their instruments are networked to form a web of sensors spread out over a wide area to retrieve superior surveillance for me and their numbers and humble weapons are more than enough to overpower and disassemble the local monsters like a swarm of angry locusts. When observer robot swarms attack, the screens on their outer hulls flicker with disorienting colors that leave their enemies nauseated. They can also organize themselves into a matrix to display composite images across the screens on their collective shells. Be it camouflage out terror tactics, they are restricted mostly by creativity.

Half an hour later I made a beeline to a smooth wall of dark gray metal that bisects the cavern here, its expanse pitted and scorched but quite solid looking. A strange, circular opening pierces the wall five feet off the ground, allowing access to some sort of hallway on the other side.

What expected me on the other side was a buried world.

The starship Divinity stocked and populated several specialized habitat modules with representatives chosen from those planets' populations. Said habitat modules varied in size but all followed the same basic design: a glaucite (the principal alloy of all their ships) dome atop a shallow, bowl-shaped closed environment resting upon a harvested asteroid.

Each of these modules was attached to Divinity via a small ship of its own that constituted a science deck (where dedicated crew could perform experiments and examinations of their module's occupants), a docking deck (that allowed the habitat and ship to attach to one of several anchors on Divinity itself), a crew deck (where the module's crew lived), and an engineering deck (where the module's engines, workshops, and navigation were located) and my final destination.

This habitat pod was designed in the likeness of an arid world habited by a species of stone age four-armed humanoids… which are still here! Well, sort of. That is why the Prime Directive was a thing! These civilized fools took all these poor souls from their home star and imprisoned them in a simulacrum just to fail them. The fall did not kill them, there is too much hate, resentment, and despair in the air for it. These aliens died cursing fate and the gods and were cursed for it.

Well, at least there is no better hero for the dead than me. I took Nature's Bounty from my hair bun where it lay disguised as a humble wooden hairpin. There is no better weapon to exorcise cursed spirits than positive energy and this treasured artifact of mine excels in the channeling of life-giving positive energy. Since many of the undead are skeletons and the zombies don't need their organs anymore, I opted for shifting it into a club. I will worry about embalming them later.

The observers turned out to be surprisingly useful here to herd the undead toward me. They ceaselessly pursued any semblance of light. This makes sense as they existed in this dark and cold world for nine millennia despite being children of the sun.

That is why I opted for cremation. I grew the wood with Nature's Bounty and set the work to cut it and arrange all their remains in a pyre tall enough that it would illuminate the entire habitat pod. When I was about to finish, I was approached by a single undead hidden inside an observatory post that led further inside the ship, the habit's control room.

It was easy to see he still had a mind in him by the purpose of his strides. I guess nobody likes to be left out.

I turn toward him, "Ready to depart with the others?" I ask the alien who probably once led them as their Alpha. He looks at my work with brooding reverence and then nods. I could probably learn something from him but there is no point in harassing the dead, he overstayed his welcome for long enough as it is.

I bring my club down against the hard ground and swathe it in rhetoric evoking my lived experience, the compiled memories of the sun, its warmth, and its light. Nature's Bounty lights up as if it was a giant match. The deathless chieftain visibly weathers under its light, the negative energy animating his flesh unraveling under the hash light.

I extend it to him in offering.

He took it without any excitation and marched toward the pyramid of wood I set as kindle for his people.

The light reached all the way to heaven, it was like dawn break and with it, the curse hanging over the tragic tribe was lifted and their souls were allowed to move on.

By the end of it, only two things remained under the ashes. Nature's Bounty, now once more an apple tree bearing golden leaves. And a single golden apple. Symbol of their gratitude.

Well, good deeds are its own reward but I am not above passing over an actual reward. It was about damn time as well. I had kept the log that became Nature's Bounty under the hope that I could resupply myself with golden apple using rhetoric to reenact the tree's lived experience. I always wear it, despite the embarrassment of walking around with a crown of vines and flowers, to feet it with my excess vitality and build my affinity with nature.

One would think my stunt to wound Tengucifer would have been enough but again, the nameless land I found it were a strange liminal place where the dead and the living coexisted. Worse, my pneumatic sense reveals the resulting golden apple excels the ones I found back then by exponents! Showing that my effort didn't go to waste. Meaning I am out of excuses to dump the extravagant look and all the unwanted attention it brings.

While my starlight marrow behaves closely to Prometheus' golden ichor I have nowhere near the vitality the Thief of Flame bear as a member of the first generation – a Titan is to an Olympian what an Olympian is to a man. It is no wonder it seems like an endless source of refinement for two freshly minted philosophers and even then, they still managed to exhaust its inertness.

It would be more accurate to compare my starlight marrow to a spark. After harvesting and gorging myself on Japan's output of cursed energy I had gathered a lot of 'fat', so to speak. I had a lot of fuel to burn, everything I needed was an ignition for me to start to burn. But recent actions had put me into a serious calory deficit, I can feel my starlight marrow struggling to keep up.

I went a long, long time without a meal that could really fill my stomach and things are likely to only get more hectic from here on out. So I ate the damned apple and it tasted everything I ever wanted and dreamed. I could fill my lagging marrow going full throttle to patch the half-finished grown spurred by my all-out assault against Tengucifer.

Not a treat I am likely to have regularly but one I will make a point to enjoy. Something tells me full satiation will become rarer and rarer as I keep ascending.

I then retrieve Nature's Bounty by literally uprooting it from the core of the tree. There seems to be a new gravitas to my trusty cane. Despite being like those poor wretches, born away from the sun and its light, they are fundamentally connected to it still and permitted for them to dream. And now this dream seems to have crystalized inside the wood, granting its own enduring sunlight.

-//-

As I moved through the Science Deck, I found myself a black access card which facilitated my journey significantly. The place really gave off the sci-fi horror vibe, especially with its newly coated coat of fresh blood. In times like these, I forget adventure is a legitimate profession on this planet.

Against my best judgment, I searched for any survivors. I didn't find any, the adventurers killed in the initial confrontation were the lucky ones. A single bastard was tortured for days on end. In the end, there are only two things here, killer robots and a strange alien fungus capable of overtaking any biomass it could grasp.

Yet the lab was in surprisingly good condition so I through sterilized the place with negative energy and disassembled the rogue robots with a few well-placed blaster shots.

After that, I cut my wait through the out-of-commission elevator into the Engineering Deck. It was I suspected, that the place was intended to be semi-autonomous, with many rooms capable of producing spare parts of equipment. Unfortunately, the crashing hit this level harder than the rest… and then someone decided to play Battle Royal to pass the time.

Meyanda and her followers were all dead, and it wasn't hard to figure out why. Life as an android was hard. As I said, Numeria has lots of racial tensions. Androids are synthetic persons bearing true souls yet they are scorned by the Cimmerians as machine men bearing corrupt influence and are treated like any rogue killer robot all the while being enslaved and exploited by the Technical League.

That is likely how Meyanda ended in Scrapfall in the first place. As crazy as Hellion was it was still a teeter for her and many other disenfranchised denizens of Numeria. It even gave them a sense of purpose and power in the form of clerical spells… so what would happen if he simply finished without any preamble?

It was sad. I can't regret my actions but I still lament their final fate.

I did what I could to build a crypt for them in the altar room they built for Hellion so they could follow their god in the afterlife and move on.

Finally, I reached the chamber housing the source of Torch's claim to fame – an immense and partially malfunctioning fusion reactor. The machine is currently operating beyond its safety protocols so that Meyanda can harvest its excess power. The reactor has a built-in power transmitter (this is the smaller machine with spikes), but the range of this transmitter is significantly reduced by the ship's hull and the surrounding rock, which forced Meyanda to place the power relay in a nearby warehouse in Torch so she can transmit power to Scrapwall.

The reactor and its integrated power transmitter are a priceless, immobile technological artifact. In its currently activated state and damaged condition, the reactor's yield is only half of its normal output. Of that yield, almost everything is dedicated to the ruins, either keeping the electronics powered or simply going to waste due to damage caused by the crash.

Putting it back to standby mode was trivial thanks to the Babylon shard, the thing was constructed to be idiot prof. There were good odds it would reset to standby mode on its own even if I left it be. One hooray to the future!

Alas, Logic will need this power in the incoming fight against Unity. Despite the multitude of death machines found in Numeria the technical league heavily favors its army of 'gearsmen' as their main shock troops. These unassuming robots bear a humanoid frame and size, heavy armor, and an iconic single red eye. The cause behind their popularity is threefold – they are cheap and easy to make compared to everything else, their basic program includes Adaptive Learning allowing them to fulfill any role at the level of a nominally competent professional at the drop of a hat, and finally, they bear nanites who heal and keep them at optimum performance.

While rerouting it manually is a challenge, this is a good chance for me to truly master the knowledge I have been imparted with. So far, I have mostly restrained myself to copy and paste things but this might come in handy. My extraneous senses allow me to see the Nuclear Reactor inside and out so turning my shadow into a cloud of nanites and manually directing them to repair things should be theoretically possible. Local mages even have mending spells so this shouldn't be this outlandish.

This is my chance to help both Torch and Scrapwall. Everybody gets what they want. I can even put this place back into order so people can use the facilities for the betterment of all of Numeria and its people… life seems hard enough for them as it is.

-//-

[AUTHOR'S ROOM]

We explore more of Numeria. Torch was supposed to be just a single paragraph but it took on a life of its own. Nothing significant happened but I liked how it portrayed Numeria as I intend to move far faster through the rest of the supplements.

Hope you all like it.
 
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IRON GODS 3
In the end, I moved on from Torch, there simply wasn't much more it could offer me that it hadn't already. Most significant of all, forcing Logic to show her hand.

There is a second reason for her to call me 'brother'. Like me, she can be considered one of Rher's buds. Her virtue technique, so to speak, is the ability to connect people Skynet-style. She can't manipulate space like Rher could but I think she gained more than she lost from said trade.

Especially when she can rely on me to pick up her slack! Honestly, some things never change.

After securing the place I used Rher's smother mystery to establish a link with Logic through the power relay as a medium. As soon as I did so the girl simply took over the habitat ship. It was as worrying as it was relieving. Unlike Unity she doesn't seem to be capable of forcibly taking over or enslaving people, her influence goes as far as people are willing to tolerate it. The problem is that she can read minds and be so goddam persuasive she can easily cajole people to do her binding… kind of like me.

If I had to assert her godly mystery through a cultivator of virtue's lens then Logic's virtue would be simplicitas (lucidity). Even if her acts might seem pushy the truth was that I had set up things for her. As I wanted those facilities to be used for good having part of her acting there just made sense. It was a foregone conclusion so she didn't bother asking permission when she could so easily get forgiveness. She can, in a matter of instants, assert with authority the boundaries people live by and how hard she can push them. This allowed her to eat her cake and have it too with little fear of reprisal.

It kind of reminds me of Socrates' warning about wielding public virtues closely tied to the concept of Ethos around Greek cultivators. Regardless, at least I knew what to expect from her going forward. I have yet to see how she behaves when denied what she wants but new opportunities are sure to come by eventually. While there is nothing more democratic than gang rape, I can't let cynicism and fear impair my judgment. Logic can do a lot of good for the people of Numeria, she might be the hope of this land.

Being blinded by hope suits us much better after all.

I can do without the sarcasm as well. While she would be close to unstoppable in a modern society Golarian is too primitive for her to flourish.

If you say so.

Regardless, Hellion believed that Cassandra knew much of Unity: its defenses, its weaknesses, and ways it could be combated. Before mounting its assault on Silver Mount, Hellion wanted desperately to track down Cassandra, for according to its information, she fled Silver Mount after betraying Unity and took with her a device of irreplaceable value.

Fortunately, it seems my rotten luck seems to be winding down. I successfully tracked down Cassandra's trail and found the site of her last standing. An android foundry and biolab called Aurora, home of mutant androids and rogue gearmen. After securing the place, putting down the rabid inhabitants, and repairing the facilitates so it no longer tainted the water with biohazards, I tried to extract intel from the gearmen. Something easy to do with Bluetooth connection once they no longer could attack me.

They turned out to be Unity's pawns, waiting for orders that would never come after pursuing Cassandra beyond Unity's Wi-Fi and successfully executing her. Cassandra's trail ended as a bust, her last known location turning out to be a dead end. Worse, there is no body left. While androids look biological, they don't rot.

Someone took her body. The only saving grace was that it clearly hadn't been Unity. I reached a dead end, tough. It was time for me to go back to Scrapwall empty-handed.

Luckily, my good Samaritan bug bite set my course straight. The people of a nearby were having trouble with a local tribe of hill giants, terrible brutes little smarter than beasts and just as beholden to their hunger. Apparently, they unearthed a rather dangerous robot while scavenging for food, forcing them to abandon their camp in the woods. This caused them to come closer to the village than usual, sack the communal reservoirs of grains, and even feast on their would-be defenders.

When I tried to establish communication, they tried to eat me as well. No question about it, they were too ravenous, din minded, and brutish to coexist with anyone but each other. I put them down and sent their souls in the path of a more enlightened reincarnation. I also took down the warden robot, which kind of reminds me of Robocop 2, more a thank with raptor legs and pincer weapons for arms.

That is when I stumbled on a wizard tower shrouded in perpetual smoke while pursuing the source of a never-ending smoke stream. That is when it dawned on me. This was an honest-to-god wizard tower. It's almost easy to forget Magic dominates most of Golarion and the most enthusiastic explorers of super-science found in Numeria are foreign-born arcane scholars.

It was not only a wizard tower but a genuine steampunk wizard tower!

Its traps were a chaotic patchwork of engineering, magic, and super-science glued together with duct tape. The place was a hazard for both invaders and residents, an opinion almost instantly validated when I got accosted by the ghost of the old wizard who lived here as the self-proclaimed master of the Choking Tower.

I didn't dare take conclusions based on a single encounter but between the undead alien tribe and now a crazy wizard, my theory had merit. It seems like the gods of these lands had a preference for punishing mortals by cursing them with liminal existence as undead instead of polymorphing them into monsters.

Regardless, the end result was the same. The old man was tethered to this tower. Even if his ethereal body were to be dispersed, his curse would recompose him in due time. Only by unraveling and breaking his curse could his soul be freed… or a little bit of heart flame to break the laws of nature and free his soul without any preamble.

I probably went to the shit list of whatever god did this but if I was afraid of divine retribution I would have never become a hero in the first place.

And I got a reward for my good deed! As I touched his soul with my influence his final moment flooded into me as a knee-jerk reaction due to Rher's influence in my foundation. He was the person that recuperated Cassandra's body! As an exiled member of the Technical League, he had great knowledge of nanites and an obsession with swarms, he used it to create a machine capable of interrogating a dead brain.

Alas, Cassandra had the last laugh. She prepared a final contingency in case Unity tried to interrogate her body, a swarm of killer robots. The old wizard was killed via peak irony, disintegrated by the object of his fascination. I guess nobody gets to become undead through random violence or fulminating heart failure.

Merlin over here managed to ask six questions before they both were broken down into fruit punch. The most important one was about how she recorded all she knew about Unity into something she called a Compact AI Core using a neurocam and that she hid it in a place called the Scar of the Spider.

After that, I took it upon myself to clean up the tower, plus taking everything of value not nailed down. Oh, the irony! The most precious device in the Choking Tower turned out to be the smoke furnace responsible for its name. A unique device mixing magic and high tech, probably the first of its kind.

Maybe instead of Merlin I should have called him Saruman, studying his notes and spell book revealed it to be the product of the conjuration school, a portal to the Plane of Fire. It powers the entire tower and although its yield is low compared to the nuclear reactors I have seen, it has no risk of exploding and it is easier to reproduce. While my rhetoric and mastery over the concept of Motion are sophisticated enough for me to create and synthesize all rare components and sky metals needed for me to reproduce numerian technology without the need for previous infrastructure, I am the exception rather than the rule.

While I estimate Socrates, Aristotle, or Archimedes would be more than qualified to unravel the secrets of Divinity star fleet on their own if given the chance and enough time, they are the cream of the sophic realm. The fact I had to resort to them speaks to how monumental a feat the Smoke Furnace is. I have doubts how much of it could be replicated outside realms without access to a Fire Plane of their own but I imagine I could retrofit the concept to any ley line or place of power.

A shame to have to leave it behind.

-//-

The scar of the spider is a narrow gorge-like veil in the southwestern fell vales of Numeria just north of one of its few big rivers. Generally avoided by everyone, this valley of gray stone is so named because of its local populations of annihilation robots that stalk this territory. Enormous and formidable scorpion-like killing machines bearing chain gun turrets for maws and a plasma lance for a sting. I made the math and those things can actually seriously hurt me if I am off guard.

They are called spiders because the annihilators have great mobility and climbing skills, and when those fail, they can resort to booster jest for short burst of up to one minute of flight. These things are more dangerous than an adult dragon and just as big, the symbol of scientific provoked strife.

There is probably some hidden foundry from a crashed ship there popping them in regular intervals. Not that I cared at this point, after traveling two hundred miles through Numeria I can say with authority this place sucks! Seriously, I just got assaulted by a swarm of radioactive zombies, resident evil style! They were runners too. A mob of human-sized locusts.

Now I reached Spider Valley just to find the place overtaken by Dominion of Black abominations. I just found the remnants of an unlucky Cimmerian tribe that strawed too close and got the wrong kind of attention. The plasma lance scarred the landscape, but worst of all, those who were immobilized or surrendered got their brains surgically removed. The image of men, women, and children without their cranium domes hits too close to home.

Playtime is over, time to break out the rain gun rifle. My pistols can't even scratch their Glaucite frame. Even a modern anti-tank shell would do little more than dent it. If it could touch it in the first place. After a certain point, a robot becomes expensive enough to warrant the installation of a force field capable of blocking solids and liquids, but not gases or light. This combo makes annihilators far more durable than even their prominent size and intimidating frame would indicate.

Fortunately, while rail guns can even turn scraps into serviceable ammunition, it is possible to augment their performance by using certain sky metals as ammo. [Inubrix] is said to be able to pass through iron and steel as though it were capable of phasing in and out of reality. Nearly as soft as lead, it is the softest solid skymetal. Alas, Glaucite's atomic composition makes it the heaviest and densest substance known to man, being capable of denying Inubrix's unique qualities.

It's ironic that the annihilator's perfect defense would have such an exclusive flaw.

I abandon the motorcycle in favor of a stealth approach. The thing weighs 120 tons, I would need to be blind to lose its trail. After about two hours of careful prowling, I found my mark. The annihilator was openly acting as a guard dog to a cave entrance Located at the northernmost extent of the Scar of the Spider.

What caused me alarm was how the entrance was infested with giant fungi. At night they glowed with luminescent light. I was getting a really ominous feeling from it.

Well, nothing ventured, nothing gained.

While I was too far away to get a peek at the annihilator's internal workings, I had acquired a rough blueprint of it from Hellion. Good enough for me to know where its power core was placed. It was a shame to dispose of it but I had a job to do.

I invoked the laws of nature and my new well of mythical might to augment the rain gun's power and aimed. I fired. The recoil was powerful enough to break the collarbone of a captain of the civic realm, before the bullet had even reached its target I was already moving. Taking cover over a stone incline and firing again, invoking my mythical power once more to swiftly move away from said compromised position.

Just in time as well, because no sooner I moved from there the place was blown apart by a blue plasma bean. Combat-oriented robots are implacable enemies, their program interprets most actions as signs of hostility and responds in kind.

It scanned the valley frantically in search of enemies while also raining down suppressing fire against my first location. I was fast enough that its AI though itself attacked by more than one opponent. It knew to recognize a rail gun rifle as a weapon incapable of such a quickly repeated fire. These advanced firearms have a range increment of 200 feet, automatically reload, and never misfire. An annihilator's core can process scrap metal into new ammunition, effectively giving the annihilator infinite ammunition with these weapons.

I successfully fooled it. It seems like my upgraded raven mantle pulled through. The liquid darkness I acquired from the Heartless One showed itself rather pliable, making it easy to work with. It was easy to have it behave like high-tech armor even if I only had small samples to work with.

It now mimics higher-quality carbon skin reinforced with carbon allotypes nanotubes and the heightened sheen of the fabric hints at its expensive construction. More than that, personal shielding tech has managed to keep up with armament. While examining the vestiges of space suits and HIV gear I found hits of slots for modular tech capable of customizable upgrading. So, while I traveled, I used my spare time to devise ways to adapt what I saw from scientific wonders in my favor.

The first things I came up with were means to camouflage myself, dampening unusual sensors, and means of detection based on what I saw from observer robots. And from the way the annihilator decided to attack everything that moved in a frenzy, it seems to be working.

Besides that, I managed to install a medical interface based on the gearmen, this medical upgrade stimulates your metabolism and natural healing capabilities with nanites. Adaptable defense, inspired by Crysis, grants me an ever-shifting adaptive defense module that responds to outside stimuli protecting me from acid, cold, electricity, fire, or sonic. From what I saw in the ruined spacesuits I put together a slicker HEV (hazard environment vestment) upgrade to protect from radiation, disease, poisonous gas, and similar environmental dangers.

All in all, this was an amazing glow-up. If it wasn't for the fact all civilian clothes it can shift into only come in different shades of black, I would wear them forever.

But I digress, what is important is that my ploy worked. Between the critical damage and the annihilator's over-the-top desperate reaction formed a perfect combination to drive the annihilator's core into critical failure. It overheated, forcing the metallic scorpion to slow down, giving me the opening I needed to finish the job.

My third shot drove it over the edge and the annihilator exploded, rocketing the entire vicinity.

Well, there goes the element of surprise. Not that it matters. The thoughts irradiating from inside the cave in response to my stunt align with the alien mindset of horrors of the Dominion of Black. I sincerely hate how handy Rher's blessing always seems to turn out to be.

I don't need to hesitate.

Considering they holed themselves in a cave, Blitzkrieg's charge by suicide drones would be the best answer. I construct a swarm of observer robots carrying white phosphorus bombs inside their bodies. An insurance I took after examining the strange fungi and diseases found in Numeria. I certainly ran into enough labs to supply me with those homemade bombs.

I observed the assault through the neural link. The place looked like another planet and yet I recognized its denizens despite their foreign shapes. Mi-go, also known as the Fungi from Yuggoth. They certainly seem to live up to their reputation as a scientifically and technologically advanced race, having a particularly sophisticated grasp of surgical techniques and neuroscience.

They indeed were the ones who harvested the brains of the tribals and now arranged them in jars for strange purposes.

Now let's see how they deal with fire. A little bit of rhetoric to assist in things can turn an already volatile process into a true calamity as all the surrounding oxygen is sucked at once, causing fire suction followed by implosion.

And just like that the world was made a better place. And nothing of value was lost. For a race of supposedly higher beings, they certainly die easily and why the hell were they studying Numerian technology?

Regardless, it will take some days for the fire to go down. There are good odds some mi-go were not present when I attacked. I will have to camp here for a while. It's a good thing I have the old wizard spell book to distract me now that my armor upgrading project is finished and done with. Once the place cools down I can look for what remains and use a badge-mole to dig through the ruble.

-//-

I was right to take my time and camp there. A few more Mi-go eventually showed themselves, loitering around the ruins in search of survivors or resources. Good thing they are cosmic abominations with callous disregard for all life forms save their own kind. it's been some years since the last time I dissected someone.

Although a mi-go's shape might suggest an arthropod, especially with its long, insect-like limbs and diaphanous wings, the creature is in fact a highly evolved form of extraterrestrial fungus. Mi-go communicates via a combination of clicking of pincers and subtle shifts in the coloration of their bulbous heads—other creatures can learn this language, but without similar biologies (or the ability to mimic these noises and colors with illusions) can only hope to "listen" to a mi-go.

Telepathy for the win. Interrogating them wasn't that difficult. While their intellect might be impressive from a biological standpoint, they lag well behind me even in my time as a philosopher. Even the horrors of Shub-Niggurath they willingly shared with me in an attempt to scar my mind found no purchase. Getting nothing but a snort of derision at the childish plot. The Old Gods' universal sign represents unilateral dynamic of power due to their a priori existence. Rher is a jealous god, he left very little for Shub-Niggurath to make an impression.

Not that it was an entire waste of time, mi-go see very little difference between the cold hard facts of science and the intensely interpretative complexities of faith. I can at least adapt it somewhat to my own mysteries but my hope to develop the means to breathe in space was dashed. Our biologies were simply too different.

At least I got some intel about Dominion of Black. Apparently, these mi-gos were slaves turned freedom fighters who came here hunting down Dominion of Black. This doesn't make us friends by any means, no matter how much they pleaded otherwise, conniving little bastards. At least I got a lead.

On a brighter note, I found great success using the old wizard's spell book as inspiration for expanding my founding mysteries. My version of clairvoyance leverages Rher's peeping tom tendencies so it works best using moonlight as a medium, particularly during the full moon, but is serviceable enough during the day for me to scout the valley.

Dionysus seems to have an affinity for necromancy and illusion while Rher favors conjuration and divination. I can't believe I lived this long without [shadow evocation] as I so heavily favored [shadow conjuration]! Now that I think of it, I rarely use darkness to rob my enemies of their senses like Bakkahos does, heavily favoring for ravaging my enemies with entropy. This is a good chance for me to examine my strategy.

I had the perfect target as well. Located at the southernmost extent of the Scar of the Spider, but not quite opposite the fungal caves colonized by the mi-go, lies a blighted section of swampland and a number of fissures in the cliff all. This was the lair of a Colour Out of Space, a mobile radiance that glows unlike any seen in nature.

Alas, its incorporeal nature does very little to protect it against my hands of pneuma. I even felt experimental enough to see what would happen if I painted it with Rher's green moonlight. Moon-scorch one, alien zero. Magical cancerous light that hates for the win.

Another noteworthy encounter was a mad and mutilated wretch I found living here. Fortunately for him, I have upgraded my healing abilities to the point I can restore even soul damage and I am very familiar with madness. He turned out to be a powerful druid who once came here in an attempt to restore the natural balance of the place. Dionysus is a god of primeval wilds so I had a lot to gain from his tutelage.

Despite frowning upon my use of technological devices, Mad Paeytr was grateful enough for my service and assistance to tutor me. In fact he saw this as his chance to return the favor and set my course straight. It helped a lot most of his lessons were practical in application as we waged a two-man war against the abominations blighting Spider Valley.

From vampiric tentacle trees to a break out of radioactive Cordyceps brain infection fungi taking over the local population of giant ogre spiders. Even the eventual undead held down by his grudges and regrets.

Eventually, Mad Paeytr and I parted ways when we found a group of penitent pilgrimages. A small trope of androids convinced that they themselves are affronts to nature and opted for self-imposed exile in the hopes of achieving some sort of awakening and learn how to shed their artificiality and join the truly living. The no longer so mad and old-looking man still had a fundamentally good heart, it didn't take much convincing on my part to cajole him into taking these lost souls under his wing. Meyasa's tragic end and even Cassandra's own cautionary tale left a long-lasting bitter aftertaste. I will do whatever I can to give them a real shot at happiness.

We parted on good terms and I even gave him one of my colonies of virtuous bees as a parting gift. I rarely use them for combat nowadays in favor of harvesting honey to ferment my brews. My 'special' mad honey showed itself, especially comforting for the old druid in moments where the nightmare of old memories is too much for Paetytr to tolerate. Numeria might never be the same as before the rain of stars but it can be home again.

-//-

"You stand in the presence of the Reconstructed One, Binox the Mighty, Binox the Builder. The One born of the Master Unity, who has forged One's own realm and seeks to expand the realm to be all realms. Binox demands your obeisance. Having damaged Binox's creations, you must be volunteered as replacements. Binox will disassemble half of you in payment for your insolence, but rebuild you and allow you to serve. What say you, little thing of gristle and bone? Which will of you pay the price for Binox's mercy?"

I found the source of the annihilator robots. A combined military and production facility reclaimed and maintained by a rogue reclamation robot sent by Unity five centuries ago to aid in the tracking and capture of its wayward oracle, Cassandra. Binox was nearly destroyed in that original confrontation with Cassandra, and even though it survived and repaired itself, it suffered significant degradation to its programming, which it did not realize needed repair. This damage has given it the robotic equivalent of delusions of grandeur. It sees itself as being on a mission to slowly convert the natural world into one of order and machinery, a personality resulting from a tiny "infection" of Unity itself.

He also suffers from short memory loss; this is the third time we have had this same conversation. I sincerely wouldn't bother with it. The robot itself is mostly harmless, the problem is the annihilation robots it keeps building and then forgetting about. Effectively setting them loose on Numeria.

Luckily for me, I salvaged a 'robotjack' from the Mi-go's base, a strange, rod-like device that can be used to usurp control of an otherwise functional robot. Perfect against Binox's royal guard, two heavily damaged annihilators it keeps forgetting to repair.

A simple sleight of hand while using my body as cover and Binox was peppered into Swiss cheese. After that I pulled my sword and tried its new zero-edge against their Glaucite frame, cutting them down to scraps. Despite the damaged conditions these three ruined robots are still the most valuable items found here as they are beyond the knowledge Hellion once held.

Reclamation robots, or "reclamators," are masters of salvage and construction. These robots were originally designed to build structures and repair all manner of technology with speed and precision. Construction of these robots was difficult and time-consuming, but they often repaid those spent resources swiftly with their ability to rebuild and repair other robots or technological items. Their truly remarkable programming surprised even those who originally developed them, as these machines can salvage items thought to be far beyond hope of repair.

After studying [shadow evocation] I successfully managed to reproduce a serviceable version of the high-tech grenades found in Numeria. From there it was easy to project weapons. With it, I can now fully arm my shadow androids. I started by making kamikaze observer robots but I am ready to progress further.

I have a hot date with the local base of the Dominion of Black and I intend to make an impression.

I hope to successfully repair Binox and reboot him to 'factory settings', learning from it what I couldn't from Hellion. My rhetoric is refined enough I can repair any non-magical device with my bare hands, no matter how complex it is. This is not work intended for a human to do but I have more than enough hands and attention to review each piece one by one.

My ivory neural link turned out surprisingly useful here. One of the artifacts I recently acquired from an undead gunslinger, a length of crystal about the size of a human thumb that's adorned at one end by a metal cap fitted with prongs and plugs, turned out to be a futuristic pen drive. Their purpose was to store and transport the staggeringly complex amount of information required to program and enhance artificial intelligence.

The one I have allowed an AI to understand and experience feelings of compassion, love, and associated emotions. But more than that, it granted me the blueprint of Divinity's AI codes, allowing me to reverse engineer the technology. All for the cheap price of one year of my life I would have to spend studying it the slow way. Hell, I can even use what I learned to create pseudo-autonomous barriers and magical devices!

Just as an experiment I imprinted a copy of my own consciousness into the sword that shares my name and purpose. I already found a few [neurocams] in my travel, the device capable of making a duplicate of a creature's mind, copying and storing all the knowledge, memories, and personality of a living creature. Since I used one hundred dark brains as components for the creation of the sword Zagreus, I felt confident in my capacity to bridge any gaps with magic.

While I was at it, I also used its three main slots (brain, heart, guts) as pseudo-chakras to transfer the energy tainting my respective chakras using the insight about the souls I got from undoing Mahito's work. Surprisingly, giving up my hardened heart was more difficult than the essence of the six eyes I acquired from Gojo, but considering the amount of resources I am committing to my sword, this is my best way to ensure it isn't damaged, overloaded, or destroyed. It is expensive but now the sword Zagreus truly is an equal to the Conqueror's King's Curse.

-//-

[AUTHOR'S ROOM]
This is your Christmas present! Happy holidays!

And we keep on exploring more of Numeria. It certainly is a place full of opportunities. Despite being mostly fooling around, Golarian is such a wacky place it is easy to find things from drastically different settings in one place.

By the way, yes, Zagreus uses his chakras as equipment slots to grant himself power from different creatures. One of the perks of Mahito's idle transfiguration. He used this to outsource the combo he used to mimic King's Curse to his sword.
 
IRON GODS 4
According to mi-go intel, there are two main camps of the Dominion of Black in Spider Valley. One is their decomposing dropship their agents used to reach Golarion, yet now lays literally dying and mostly abandoned. The other is their new Hive hidden behind an illusory wall at the extreme west of the valley.

I used my now kamikaze observer robots to scout the dropship. It seems most of the species in Dominion of Black use telepathy which doubles as a sonar against nearby minds. One could say Rher opened my mind way too much for me to risk it but I digress. My main priority is the acquisition of intel.

The mi-go memory showed it to be a monstrous space whale but now only a giant pile of rotten flesh remains from it, tainting the riverbank with foul blood and ammonia. Most creatures avoid it save a huge sea serpent that devours magic, including my observers. A rare chance for me to break out my aquatic assets.

Ironically, its territoriality and hunger made it easy to lure it away so the bulk of my swarm could infiltrate without a problem. Once it was close enough, by which I mean in range, my two aquatic shikigami pounced.

Poisonous Anura is the unholy cross between a frog and an aquatic salamander like an axolotl. Bearing a long serpentine body with a pad-like tail and ten arms-like limbs capable of assisting both jumping, climbing and swimming, serving as an amphibian fighting force. It bears a fearsome yet bright-colored skin of a poisonous frog endowed with great flexibility and its mucus gives it extraordinary slipperiness protecting the Anura from physical trauma and containment. Despite looking otherwise, it is not actually toothless, bearing retractable mandibles with a venomous bite like a Komodo dragon.

While its breath weapon is fearsome crowd control, inducing a physical and spiritual autoimmune reaction as a person is trapped in a hallucination where they confront its shadow-self, what I used to catch said magical beast was its projectile tongue, much like a chameleon or frog.

While its rubber-like body allows Poisonous Anura allow it to swallow and capture prey many times its size while holding them in torpor for easy extraction, this eel's gluttony for magic is not to be underestimated.

That is why I had Kaleidoscope Logic Urchin snipe it with 'piercing wine' once it was extracted from the water and violently thrown in the stone reef. From there it converted the wine remaining inside its body like skewers, impaling it from the inside out… yet it failed somehow. Interesting.

Not that a bullet through its first spine bone couldn't solve. It was an unusual enough creature to merit vivisection yet my hands of pneuma quickly dispersed through contact with said beast. This forced me to get my hands dirty for once after a decade! This better be worth it.

The source of its power seems to be a crystalline growth along its digestive tract containing large deposits of magical energy. These nodes are responsible for the magical feedback that surrounds the beast, granting it its spell resistance, damage reduction against magic, dispelling bite capable of disrupting magic, and even the capability to digest magic considering the state of its meals. The foul aberrant flesh turned inert and mostly harmless.

Most extraordinary of all, despite its eel-like body and dragon head, its body information harvested by Valkyrie Vulture informs me this thing was once a crocodile native from this river! Did it mutate by eating the living ship? This is my first time seeing a virtuous beast evolving beyond its designed place in the natural order. I had been so focused on the visitors from the stars that I almost missed the natural wonders Golarian has to offer!

Here is where I receive the dividends from the recent upgrades to my sword. The winning combo based on cultivator Alexander's chosen weapon has turned Zagreus, the sword, into a Blackrazor. Its edge shines like a piece of night sky filled with stars and it can devour everything it can understand, even souls. Especially souls.

Thankfully said soul is not destroyed, the process is fundamentally a transient one, guided by my spiritualist knowledge acquired in my time as a grave keeper. It fundamentally works like a [soul extractor] & [soul healer], extracting all the soul karma and sin and releasing a pure yet small purified soul. This process not only imparts me with the vitality of my victim, restoring my body and soul, but also grants me a temporary boost of vitality, plus the long-term benefits all cultivators enjoy when devouring the bounty of the soul from others. A healing, temporary hit points, xp harvester combo!

And since we are one, body, mind, and soul, I can still benefit from the unique quintessence I sacrificed to it. It is more like I got three extra chakra slots! So harvesting this monster's quintessence and 'installing' it in my now empty stomach chakra was trivial, granting me its [Eldritch Encrustation] properties to my guts!

But I digress, this is a cleaning-up job. Rher's telepathy, the capacity to smother the gulf between minds allowed me to pick something interesting. Due to my cultivation, this power has grown to the point of allowing me to pick the presence of relatively powerful yet alien minds inside the ship. Compared to the mi-go cave, the place was almost desert but Dominion of Black agents are anathema to the natives, so leaving straddles leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

That is why once I take care of said aquatic nuisance, I summon [Valkyrie Vulture]. It is a giant bird with the shape of a king vulture with a negative color pallet. Standing 21 feet tall (6m) and having a wingspan four times that, this beast is a sight to behold even before a score of Einherjar warriors grows from its back to assist combat.

Mine summon takes to the sky with a swiftness that defies its size and starts to secret black mud from the fold between its feathers, littering the shore of the river bank with it. Out from the mud, two badger-moles emerged in each extremity while the cordon between them was filled with dragon bone warriors armed with spears and bows.

While the two earth-bending beasts start to raise a wall cutting the biological ship off from the river, I raise a mantle-type barrier over it since I am so close to Dominion of Black's new base.

Then it was just a matter of cutting a path for me. My new HEV upgrade to my mantle is really coming through here – Dominion's focus on biotechnology and biological warfare such as super diseases are what I am the most worried about. Its filter protects against inhaled and contact-based poisons and diseases, plus it was designed to close any tear or gouge through self-repair technology.

I can enter this place without fear, so I might as well do it with style. I already look like a supervillain from a comic book while in this high-tech gear and everyone knows the difference between them and any tug down the streets sums down to a single element – presentation.

There is nothing here that I care to preserve or spare, that is why I manifest Rher's poisonous turquoise light in one hand, then use it as a medium to manifest my mastery over motion granted by Zeno's Paradox, seamlessly combining the two while guided by Archimedes' [Golden Thread] and my lived experience. Gojo can complain about copyrights all he wants, I have been his primary victim over the last decade. I have earned this.

That is how I used limitless as inspiration to expand the mystery I inherited from the Trickster Moon god, manifesting my own version of Cursed Technique Lapse – Blue(ish). Rher's smothering power when applied to coordinates in space brings the conceptual impossibility of negative distance into reality. That is how Rher closed the distance between the both of us on the night we met face to face. I am just adapting it to create a pseudo-gravitational effect when reality rushes in to fill the emptiness.

I certainly have been hit by it enough times to know it inside and out. Gojo was more than happy to test the limits of my [Achille's Armor], basically using it (and me) as wet stone for his technique.

Now I use it to carve an opening for myself through rotting flesh. I even mimic his levitation trick by fixing my coordinates in space. It's far and away the inferior of true flight in both maneuverability and speed to the point I would never indulge in a true fight, but it is certainly useful as a quality of life and showboating perspective – the place is utterly disgusting, swimming neck deep in filth is not my idea of good time.

I made a beeline toward the most powerful mind inside the ship, and also the most tormented and fearful one. Unfortunately, I am familiar enough with both madness and death to see things for what they are – if there is a body then there is also a mind, the ship is in its death throes and as its end approaches it has fallen into some kind of religious fervor. It is worshiping entropy itself, finding comfort in the belief all life exists only to feed the grave, and it is as one decay that one can truly experience the truth of the universe.

But more interesting than that, it also curses its former masters for abandoning it. A seething shameful hatred. Something I can take advantage of.

I reach into my raging pool of mythical power to boost my captain virtue and with it enhance my force of personality, animal magnetism, and reasonability. This supernatural display of charisma makes me compelling to the point of absurdity! I have seen THE Orpheus with my own eyes and had my heart marked by his swan song. Yet now I don't feel like his lesser. While it's up in the air whether I am his equal in raw skill, I am certain I can match the Augur in comeliness.

I tear open a hole into its chamber and fly myself inside, "Death has come to finally claim you. Be ready to embrace oblivion." I proclaim through the voice of my soul to the creature. "You and the Dominion of Black for transgressing beyond their place!"

What I got in answer was a cocktail of existential dread mixed with jubilation. Then my vengeance shall be known. You, god of death, shall be the instrument of my murder! The shipmind called The-Stars-Whisper eagerly opened its mind to me, letting me pick through secrets from the Dominion of Black even the least of their agents would have gladly protected to the grave.

It even opened ruined flesh valves and several fluid-filled, blister-like chests, containing caches of equipment salvaged from other words. With my upgraded clairvoyance it was easy to peruse without moving. Most of it was 'trash' left behind by Dominion of Black agents but I still found a hidden gem – a new memory facet, a priceless technological artifact forgotten because it lacks a magical aura!

I was grateful enough to give the thing a swift and grad ending, "Domain Expansion: Monochrome Crucible!"

My new standing comes with an upgraded range to cover the entire ship and output capable of breaking it down into harmless fruit punch. This was the best way to quickly and thoroughly sterilize the place while also cleaning the dangerous foreign eldritch power and breaking down the radiation while also harnessing it for my purpose.

With the harvested vitality and power, I raise an army of one hundred dragon tooth warriors. This is the last day of the Dominion of Black in Golarion.

-//-

A lot of things were brought to focus after my encounter with the dying dropship. Despite said vessel being indeed among the fleet that attacked divinity nine millennia ago, it actually only arrived in Golarion recently. As in, a few decades. Which is a short time on the cosmic scale.

The 'captain' of said ship and highest rank member of Dominion of Black is an ascended brain collector called Dweller-In-Dark-Places. Its forces are not as big as they are supposed to be; probably due to the mi-gos.

For me, success is measured by culling this evil by its roots while failure means leaving survivors. That is more complicated than it seems as teleportation magic is relatively accessible for entities in their bracket of power. Fortunately, that is also something I have access to and intimate knowledge of. I simply never had to face such a problem before; preventing Gojo from teleporting around would have been nice but such a barrier would also prevent me from doing the same, creating golden gates using my hands of intention as a medium.

The people of Golarion on the other hand have tackled said problem epochs ago. Dimensional Anchor – a spell of the fourth circle, a kind of curse that covers its victim with a shimmering emerald field that completely blocks extradimensional travel. The name of its original creator has been lost to history but it seems incredibly popular for that wizard to go so out of his field of interest to collect it.

Adapting said spell into a mantle barrier took some time and I had to make use of anchoring nails to make it stable but it was worth it. With it, all preparations have been fulfilled.

Mi-go intelligence informed me the physical entrance to the hive is obscured by a permanent image. With the assistance of dog-sized badger-moles, I was able to verify there are no hidden entrances or escape routes through echolocation. I could not risk them digging too deep due to the aliens' biotechnology. Dominion hives are living things, the walls encrusted with strange green crocodile skin that allows them to survey their domain, and the doors look like tightly sealed fleshy puckers when closed.

A fulminating surprise attack is my best bet. That is why I had them map the place which was easy due to the need to accommodate giant monsters. Teleportation is an interesting thing, there is a consistency involved despite how apart some worlds should be. The natural progression from mist step, dimensional door, and teleportation circle, to teleport is something even I, a cultivator of virtue, and Gojo, a jujutsu sorcerer, share in common with these spell casters. Sure, there are a lot of small quicks and peculiarities that set us apart yet the philosopher in me can only see this as hints of a universal destination reached through different starting points.

Food for thought, but unfortunately also something I will have to explore in deep latter as I have to focus the entirety of my concentration on calculating how to teleport the two annihilators inside two different rooms I have never been to or seen at the same time. I made judicious use of golden thread and mythical power to throw odds in my favor but this is still a big gambit.

I didn't scry the place for fear of alerting the aberrations inside. Dweller-In-Dark-Places is a sorcerer and if there is something my tenure as a player in jujutsu society cloak and dagger politic is that you underestimate your opponent at your own peril. Maybe it is because Rher is a peeping tom but he hates to be scrutinized himself, hiding in plain sight and keeping his secrets to himself. This is how I learned the moon god's power can occlude one's presence from remote viewing kind of spells. There are good odds Dweller-In-Dark-Places has taken similar contingencies to ward its home base.

Fortunately, my preparations were not in vain and I successfully managed to place the two annihilators inside the biggest rooms, dubbed M8 and M13. Each is accompanied by a platoon of eight gearmen armed with all spare weapons I found and repurposed; that reclamator robot was worth his weight in gold!

I then activated my upgraded mantle, blocking all teleport, and lifted the veil concealing my approaching army into an illusion. Dragon tooth warriors march in lockstep inside the infernal hive with the fearlessness of the dead. Its strange green slime and putrid air are no obstacle to their unliving vessels. Their collective entropic aura created by the resonance of the death essence causes the abominable biotechnology to wither and decay as they march.

The first point of resistance was met right at point M1, the answer to my army invasion was a searing plasma bean vaporizing everything it touched. It seems the mi-go were not the only ones helping themselves with Binox stray creations. Since robots, aside from Hellion and maybe Unity, have no true minds, souls, or hearts, so I have no means to detect them as I would a living thing. The plasma spear killed over a dozen of my soldiers before the rest pressed themselves against the walls with impeccable drills.

The assault ceased yet the tenebrous soldiers held their position, giving the men at the rear a clean line of fire for a volley of countermarch using futuristic rochet launchers instead of muskets. Cheap, powerful, and efficient while being as good as a fireball. The kinetic energy from the five shots easily overwhelmed the force field of the annihilator, rocking it against the far wall of the entrance chamber.

The bone dragon tooth warriors marched with precision and calculated certainty that matched its robot adversary, circling it to deny it a second clean shot. The chthonic hoplites advanced with implacable surefooted aggression, throwing their lives away to secure the footing of their comrade. Literally in some cases. Armed with zero-edge glaives with collapsible handles capable of stretching into spears, they cut through the glaucite carapace of the annihilator, stabbing and slashing. Their arm guard unfurled like a flower into large shields allowing them to enter phalanx formation at the drop of a hat to block the cascade of machine gun from the iron scorpion as it struggles to pierce through the same glaucite armor. Even being torn apart did not prevent them from attacking, unbothered by pain or dismemberment.

Is it any wonder their brother-in-arms did not even deign to slow down their advance inside the hive while the fight still raged on? The dragon tooth warriors are my ultimate chimera, the fruit of my intelligent design as I tinkered with soul and body information distilled into the ultimate foot soldier. After that, it is just a matter of copy and paste. Once the initial cost of manifestation is paid for, they generate their own cursed energy like Panda. More than a match to even the most gifted among citizens, even young philosophers would struggle against a single one and their power grows exponentially with their number. They are the reason Gojo acknowledges me as the greatest cursed corpse user in jujutsu history.

My greatest limitation is that I don't dare to summon more than I can subjugate into servitude. If their number grows too big, they could break free from my reigns. At least I will have my work cut out if I ever reach the tyrant realm. This serves as a master class practical lesson on subjugation with my life on the line. I could deploy up to one hundred of them comfortably, and while I could go further, it required more of my undivided focus. Currently, I am deploying up to six hundred with similar strains.

The sound of marching feet echoed unerring through the alien world of the Dominion of Black. From chambers bearing strange tentacle machines serving as incubators to living alien weapons carrying dangerous diseases, disposal chambers comprised of immense detached stomach-feeding power stations made of living nerves harvesting the nightmares of living brains from natives.

Wherever they went they made a point to kill, destroy, and vandalize everything they could. The army of the dead every action made their point clear – there was no place for these creatures in the natural order. They hunted down the intellect devourers, quadruped brains capable of hijacking and puppeteering bodies of living creatures once they had eaten their brain, with tireless zeal. Putting their unfortunate vessels down and crushing the parasite inside like the bugs they were. They killed crab-like monsters the size of a war horse bearing blisters holding brains; the devolved form of Dweller-In-Dark-Places.

They even fought post-mortal lifeforms from beyond the mortal plane that aligned with the Dominion of Black macabre goals. Humanoids clad in chains from head to toe wielding fear and pain as their only virtue.

Regardless of the opposition they face or how many fell, they keep their funeral procession through the living cave, bringing silence wherever they pass.

Until they connect with their mechanical comrade, driving their spears to the back of their assailant just as they were focused on crushing the entrenched robots.

Eventually, the big bad boss shows himself, Dweller-In-Dark-Places. He was just as ugly as I had seen from the shipmind's memory. An enormous crustacea-like being, the hive was clearly designed with his bulking frame in mind, being the size of a chunky van, a spiked turtle-like shell supported by four sets of armored stout limbs. It has no head but countless tentacles, two long and dexterous tentacles bearing toxic slime, and a long tail bearing a forked claw. Yet the most significant feature was the six semitransparent slots containing brains.

The deep lines of scorch tracks on its body and countless bleeding holes from bullets led me to think it fought the other platoon and won. A pyrrhic victory, they delivered just as much punishment as they got. How much came to be was made clear when the thing tried to blast my army with a powerful psychic vortex using its captive brains as RAM chips. Unfortunately for the brain collector, the dragon bone warriors have no minds of their own for as long as I hold them as thralls. Existing as remote extra limbs at my command.

According to The-Stars-Whisper, their species can command and accelerate the life circle over all diseases. The reason their kind often supervises the Dominion of the Black's surgical and genetic engineers on major projects.

Neither of which is any good against undead or robots. I give it to it; they would be a nightmare against most life forms on this planet but this was a bad match-up. Deprived of its two main weapons it has to fall back to sorcery and physical might. But even that is something I can take away from it. The-Stars-Whisper tattled to me that this alien loses all spell-casting ability once all stolen brains are destroyed.

My warriors charge in, cutting at its limbs, tentacles, and sting tail and firing at the gelatinous casing the brains are kept. It was not the most efficient method but I had more than enough force left to bury it in bodies. It fired disintegration rays but it was clear to see most of its repertory was useless against non-biological opponents. Eventually, it was cut down to size as a helpless crab in the cooking pot.

Its base was not doing better. The last opposition was Its right hand… officer? An intellect devourer sorcerer manning an exquisite and exotic young adult dragon has been put down as it tries to flee. It took a lot of effort since I wanted to avoid damaging the body as much as possible. The body itself has likely been preserved for years through magic. Nothing that a good lobotomization couldn't solve, its original brain had been eaten anyway.

Now it was my turn to harvest. The brain collectors evolve after have absorbed a critical mass of thoughts and memories from an unknown number of sapient brains. A byproduct of this is strange all-encompassing knowledge as they don't die from old age. Knowledge about the galaxy, the planes beyond, scientific and arcane secrets!

And after I am done with it, I can harvest its quintessence. I am sure it will be a perfect match for my crown chakra. At least until I find a mind flayer's elder brain or something similar.

-//-

Finally, it was time for me to move on. But not before I claim my prize, hidden away in a secret chamber only accessible through teleportation. Nothing a badger-mole couldn't solve.

The walls of this room are made of cut stone polished to a mirror-like sheen. On one side of the room sits a low platform of dark brown metal supporting a one-inch-thick pad of yellow glass. The floor is etched with a tentacle-like symbol. A bulky, organic machine sits on this symbol, its numerous branch-like arms extending forth to attach to a framework of chitin and bone. This frame itself contains a small object: a sheet of semi-translucent blue material, ten inches wide and twenty inches long in a frame of black and coppery metal. The image of a beautiful woman, her face contorted into an expression of agony, is visible within the blue sheet, her mouth gaping in a silent scream.

This is a compact AI core, a one-of-a-kind artifact made in Divinity's home civilization, capable of housing the staggering amount of data needed to store artificial intelligence without compromising or degrading its core programming. The Dominion fossil golem is made of petrified remains of brain collectors who serve as its warden and torturer. The brain collectors want it to reveal its secrets so they can adapt it to fill blank vet-grown brains with information and personality.

I don't know what makes it special compared to a neurocam, but I don't care either and crush the attacking golem with my Susanoo skeleton made of my manifested carrion intent, grinding it into powder with a single punch that rocks the room.

"Are you ok?"

"I know you not, but I recognize you as akin to what I once was: a person. I am Casandra, a prisoner here, most dreadfully inconvenienced until now by these worshipers of Emptiness. You have done more than rescue a prisoner though, friends, you have enabled your own survival. Silver Mount harbors a monstrous force. It must be stopped before it can escape, and with your aid and my advice, we can achieve this goal. We must achieve it. I worshiped Unity once, but now it must be destroyed."

"I know. That is why I came here. It is time to face Unity and you are the person who knows it and the inside of Silver Mount the most. It is time to end this, once and for all."

-//-

[AUTHOR'S ROOM]

So yeah. When you put all your specs into anti-sapiens and pigeonhole yourself out of a fight. I had mentioned them before but this was my first chance to use the dragon tooth warriors, Zagreus counter against Roman cultivators. Zagreus also got the chance to flex more of his powers from Rher side of the equation.

We are done with Spider Valley. But Unity has a really solid power base as the veiled master behind the technique league. Zagreus's motto is: hope for the best, but prepare. He won't simply march inside Divinity. Unity turned the place into a mega-dungeon!
 
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