Among the Infernal Legion, demons do not dream, nor sleep. For sleep is for the weak and foolish, those who allow themselves to become easy prey for the stronger and more cunning. The only demon of note to have dared to sleep every night was the former Prince of Darkness himself, whose overwhelming spiritual power and unparalleled combat skills allowed himself to be convinced that no one could succeed in harming him, even if they attacked during such periods of relative vulnerability. And that had proven to be his undoing.

But one can still contemplate, and reminisce. Asmodeus, the current reigning Prince of Darkness, closes his eyes, and thinks back to an earlier time, when he was foolish enough to challenge the Father of Demonkind to a fair duel for the first, and last, time. Though it was millennia ago, the memory remains fresh, and continues to strike a chilling chord in the Crimson Fiend's heart.

"For this once, I will grant you the privilege of making your first move," said Satan, the barest hint of a mocking sneer on his handsome face. His eyes, orbs of the deepest purple, swept over the red-skinned demon prince with a cold glint of amusement and pity. "Do not waste it, and do not disappoint me." As he spoke, three pairs of dark bat-like wings expanded forth out of the back of his elaborate pitch-black robes, their form and arrangement a twisted mockery of the white seraphic wings that the Adversary possessed prior to his fall from Heaven. Waves of demonic energy rippled around him, sending his dark hair and opulent garbs aflutter, and even in this leashed state his immense power was palpable to everyone present.

With a snarl, Asmodeus summoned his soulshard, the demonic trident that was the source of inspiration for humans' imagery of the devil's pitchfork. The head of the three-pronged spear burned with hellish crimson flames and noxious black smoke as its owner gathered power, preparing to unleash his strongest attack.

For an instant, Asmodeus met Satan's eyes, and saw the barest hint of a mocking sneer. It sent the then-young demon prince over the edge.

"TURN TO CINDERS!" Asmodeus bellowed, at the same time plunging the tip of his trident into the ground. A fiery demonic power rapidly spread from that point, turning the obsidian floor into lava imbued with poisonous fumes and Dark magic. Within mere seconds, the entire arena was transformed into the Lake of Fire, the Crimson Fiend's most dreaded spell that had claimed countless souls in Hell's name. But Asmodeus was not content with this display. Satan asked him to attack first, so he did, sending a further pulse of magic into the massive pool of Hell-magma. An instant later, a dozen or so geysers of liquid Hellfire erupted from all around Satan, converging upon his comparatively tiny figure from all angles simultaneously, while the entire Lake surged upwards in an infernal tide to engulf the Prince of Darkness whole. The moment Satan was swallowed, Asmodeus willed the magma to compress itself around its victim, producing temperatures hotter than the cores of stars all the while crushing Satan with immense pressure and entombing him in a volcanic prison. As the magma settled into a giant lump of obsidian, Asmodeus could already feel a small hint of fatigue in his bones, for he had just unleashed as much energy upon his enemy as he possibly could within such a period of time.

"Is this all?" Asmodeus suddenly heard Satan's voice resound throughout space around him, even though the Adversary should still be trapped inside his magma prison. "Pathetic."

The prison shattered.

The first things Asmodeus saw were six weapons, each cutting and piercing through the Crimson Fiend's hyper-dense demonic stone as if it was nothing more than wet clay. An axe, a scythe, a spiked mace, an undulating whip, a drill-like lance, and a serrated sword, each a soulshard in its own right that channelled Satan's terrifying power. As the stone prison shattered, Satan's own monstrous battle form was seen, a hulking six-armed humanoid dragon clad in not scales but heavy plates of the deepest, darkest fell metal that seemed to suck in what little light that existed in this arena. From the gaps in the creature's armor bled out a thick ooze of smouldering, throbbing Hellish red, spontaneously forming eerie sigils on the armor's surface, as if it was perpetually stained by the freshly spilled blood of thousands. Satan's shadow, now given material form by his power, trailed behind and around him as six serpentine heads of pure darkness, roughly following his limbs' movements. The sheer pressure from the Beast's aura felt almost solid, as if the fabric of space itself was held down by the shackles of Satan's immeasurable sin. His eyes, now akin to torches of blazing crimson power, pierced into Asmodeus's, and for an instant the younger demon felt a hint of fear.

Then the attacks began.

Asmodeus barely registered the creature's draconic jaws opening before his vision was engulfed by an endless expanse of blackness, its sheer power assaulting his senses and feeling almost akin to being swallowed by the ineffable Abyss itself. Armor of demonic stone reflexively formed around Asmodeus to protect him, but even through it he felt intense, searing agony as the blast scoured his body and mind alike. With his immense willpower, Asmodeus managed to not falter, before his senses screamed at him for an even greater power rapidly approaching. Through reflexes honed by the past decades of relentless training in the pits of Hell, Asmodeus barely managed to swerve to the right and back, before the black lance slammed itself into the ground where he stood an instant ago. Instead of pushing outwards with the shockwave of its impact, the drill-like weapon was spinning madly and suctioning in all things around it like a dark vortex, and it was all Asmodeus could do to steel himself and not be pulled in before the spear's gyrations ceased. He was only granted a second of reprieve, before the six additional shadowy heads of the Beast unleashed their own breath weapons, and this time Asmodeus focused power to create an exceptionally thick and well-fortified obsidian shield in front of him so he could-

Pain.

It took Asmodeus almost an entire second to realize that Satan was now standing to his front left, where the black lance had landed. The soulshard must've allowed Satan to teleport to it, bypassing Asmodeus's obsidian shield entirely. But instead, Asmodeus was more focused on the jagged sword impaled through his torso, right where his heart was. His body was too powerful and well-built to die simply from the sundering of a organ that pumped blood, but losing such a vital organ still made him violently spasm; soon he'd likely be too weakened to continue fighting. He thought of getting away, but then he felt the curved blade of Satan's scythe behind his back that would sever his spine if he tried, and a moment later Satan's whip twined itself around Asmodeus's legs and dug its thorns into his flesh. The axe was held against a side of his neck, and the mace above his head, ready to bash his skull in. For good measure, Satan's shadow materialized behind Asmodeus, the six serpentine heads spreading out to seal the route of retreat if there even was one, and numerous tendrils formed out of the blood that dripped from the Beast's armor extended to block off even the sides.

"I win," said Satan, his voice still perfectly even and smooth despite his current monstrous form.

The Crimson Fiend said nothing. There was nothing he could say.

"To any and all who dare to challenge my rule, allow me to remind you that I am God, and this world is mine to do with as I please," Satan's voice boomed across the arena, to all the demons that were watching. "And unlike that pretender up there in his so-called Heaven, I am a fair and just God. Serve me well, and you shall be handsomely rewarded. But rebellious subjects are not useful to me, and will be crushed without mercy, like this wretch before me." He spat on Asmodeus's face, and the younger demon felt the caustic liquid's sharp sting, before Satan dissolved his soulshards and allowed Asmodeus to crumple to the ground in a bleeding, broken heap.

For an instant, Asmodeus felt an all-consuming rage within himself, a desire to sacrifice all of his body and soul in a titanic explosion, as a final act of spite. Even if his strongest normal attack failed to wound Satan, an attack fueled by the very power of his whole existence must perform differently... But no, that would not do. His power still had much room for further growth, and Satan could not have been that much stronger than him. So he suppressed the burning fire of his rage, and held on to an ember of it deep within himself. One day, he would learn of all of Satan's secrets... And then, Satan would be the one crushed beneath the feet of Asmodeus, the ruler of all that is and will be.

As Asmodeus opens his eyes, he smiles. Oh, how glorious it was... Even a century after, his heart still flutters with excitement when he thinks back to that moment, when he finally was able to destroy the enemy that he hated and despised with all his being. Yes, his heart, now made of molten obsidian, after his former heart of flesh was torn to shreds in his duel against Satan so long ago. The wound could have healed, but never did, as he instead filled it with black stone as a reminder of his terrible failure, and of his vow to make Satan pay for his impertinence... It was not easy, arranging for every single demon prince to unite against Satan, for Satan's words were far more trustworthy than those of the demon princes, who even now must be each plotting their plots that would grant them control of the Infernal Legion. But no matter. Soon... Soon, the Horsemen will be complete.

Yes... Sometimes, the humans manage to produce some truly fascinating ideas. A laughably inaccurate transcription of the Celestiarchy's teachings, the human Bible speaks of the four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, harbingers of true ruin that will spell the world's end. Regrettably, such beings never existed in Hell's history... Until now. Satan had been a fool, forbidding the extraction of energies from beyond the sealed Abyssal Gate, for its supposed "dangers". With Satan out of the way, and Asmodeus's ascension to the throne of the Prince of Darkness, he was finally able to take the true power of the Abyss and forge it into the gestalt ultra-demonic entity sleeping before him. War, Famine, Pestilence, and Death itself... A single component of this superweapon is more powerful than any spirit in existence, he's sure of it, more powerful than even Satan himself. Though he does not understand the inner workings of the eldritch energies powering this awe-inspiring monstrosity, it is still made to obey Asmodeus and Asmodeus alone. Soon, he will be unstoppable.

And the world shall bow down to him.

You are doing humanity a great service by accepting this mission, Mr. Franklin. You're quite sure you want to go through with it?

'Absolutely. If it is necessary to help protect our world...'

You of course understand the risks. Sidestepping an entire faction's trust in you is something few are forgiving about, and I cannot imagine that you will be let off easily if you are discovered.

'But it won't really be me, after all, will it? The real me would be piloting my body from afar, when I'm even needed to do so.'

Your personality would be controlling it remotely whilst the protocols are active. You are aware of the possible risks of such.

'Yeah, I know how it works, "the backdoor could be an open wound into the Protectorate's databanks" and all that about exposing my mind, but I can just destroy the backdoor if I need to.'

It should not matter regardless. You are fully aware of capture prevention protocols.

'Yep, yep, blow up my own soul for the cause if I must.'

The moment a battle or situation appears to be unwinnable. Gauge power, gauge strategy, calculate whether they hold an advantage over you-

'Etcetera etcetera so they don't get any information from me ever. I'm not in the higher echelons of the Protectorate because I'm stupid, you know.'

Very well. For the final time, Thomas: do you consent to this procedure?

'One hundred percent.'

Then sleep, loyal and earnest warrior. May you be rewarded with the sound of the last spirit's demise.

---

'How's the agent, professor?'

He is quite well. His personality is interred in our systems, and his DNA has been recorded for restoration of his physical form if necessary, as has his mantle for the purposes of personality restoration.

'Excellent. All precautions... in place...'

I still feel the notebook is unnecessary.

'Well, I like having words on paper in front of me. It's... soothing, if you will? As is speaking with one's mouth, rather than one's mind...'

I'll take your word for that.

'...ahem. Well, what of his partner?'

A suitable candidate spirit has been captured, and is in the process of conversion as we speak. Nietzsche will soon come into being as a new member of our ranks, albeit under similar conditions to Thomas.

'Ah, I see. So...'

Nietzsche's personality will be contained within our servers, whilst the donor's personality will be copied and modified, and subsequently replicated on to the new body. For all intents and purposes, this AI will be its original self, save for Nietzsche's capacity to take over when desired.

'Alright... hold on half a tick... and the data transfers?'

Both parties will run large-scale transfer protocols under private conditions only. In other words, when they are entirely alone.

'Peeeerfect! I have high hopes for all this, you know.'

As do we all. If the project is successful, we may ultimately see the end of one of the most virulent opponents we face. One step closer to spiritual annihilation.

'Ah, don't spoil it just yet. We've still got to succeed, after all, and then deal with the other factions too at that!'

I imagine this feat could be replicated many times, should initial tests prove successful. If the agent can be infiltrated past one of the most stringent entry requirements in the world, other factions should be exceptionally simple to acquire information from.

'I like your style, old chap.'

It is a logical progression of events.

'Ahh, well, you know what it signifies. This is the next step in our conquest, after all... and perhaps, if we're lucky, the first true indicator of our final victory.'

One can only hope.

Records: Arasciel’s Personal Notes
185 Days, 2000 Anno Domini
Praise to the Lord. It seems that all of Heaven is obsessed with the Millennial Seal being unbound. Of course, it is all for the glory of God that this should happen, and it is more undoubtedly a joyous event, but it appears unseemly to still be discussing it six months after the event. Angels should not spend such time involved with secular matters; that should be the domain of the High Command and those selected to deal with the mortals. Of course, the younger ones seem to cheerfully ignore Scripture any time they find something better to do.
At least Project Eden is still going well. It would ordinarily have been unproductive, for Barachael’s older brother has contracted with one of the humans, and she spent more time talking about it than assisting me in my final adjustments. Luckily enough, we managed to calibrate the Sacred Stone connection to be in the optimal state for a power transfer of that magnitude, so perhaps today wasn’t a total waste of time. Uracchus informs me that the completion ceremony has been scheduled a month from now, and that most of the High Command will be in attendance. We should need half that time to finish up Project Eden, but it’s always better to have a buffer in case we’re forced to delay the project.
Moriphael is still trying to get me to marry. He won’t leave me alone, no matter how many times I tell him I have too much work to worry about finding a wife. Perhaps after Eden is completed.
In the Name of the Lord,
Arasciel

216 Days, 2000 Anno Domini
To-Do List:
Confirm time with Uracchus [x]
Submit final report [x]
Supervise experimental setup [x]
Retrieve Specimens A and E from Containment [x]
Get Specimen E ready for transfer [x]
Put Specimen A in stasis [x]
Ensure power cores are stable [x]
Confirm circuits wired properly with Barachael [x]
Final prayer for success [ ]
Praise to the Lord. I stayed in the laboratory later than usual today, double-checking everything. All must be in perfect order for the completion ceremony. The machinery has already been set up and put in place – all it will take is the entering of the password and the press of a button for the magical transfer to begin.
It would be better if I had more time to enter in my final thoughts for the archives, but that can wait for tomorrow. If I don’t hurry, I will soon be late for the group prayer, which should last until dawn.
For now, I’ll leave these words behind: this project will be a success. I can feel it; I’ve worked too long on this to see it fail. The Lord’s favor will be with us, and we will cleanse away the stain of the Original Sin.
In the Name of the Lord,
Arasciel

218 Days, 2000 Anno Domini
Praise to the Lord. These records have been terminated.
REASON: Death of author
ADDITIONAL DETAILS: Arasciel passed away during the Paradise Lost incident. For operational security, further details of his death may not be released at this time. Condolences may be sent directly to his family. His funeral will be held during the Paradise Lost Memorial at 225 Days, 2000 Anno Domini.
May he find peace with the Lord.
This entry was added automatically. Queries, feedback or complaints should be sent to the Heavenly Archives, Mechanized Branch. These records have been locked and may no longer be updated.
-
Records: Special Containment, Maximum Security (Classification Alpha-I)
TRUE NAME: Unknown
SECULAR NAME: Paradise Lost
THREAT LEVEL: Omega
Additional Notes: There is only one known way to pacify this being, and terminating it is prohibited under Secret General Order Comet Kabbalah. All servants of the Lord, with the exception of [REDACTED], are instructed to finalize their last will and testament, including any farewell letters or messages to their family, before interacting with this being.
APPEARANCE: A humanoid with straight black hair and alabaster skin, displaying a striking similarity to [REDACTED]. Displays a lack of wings, lungs, heart, horns, kidneys, magical sacs, liver, and other vital organs. Insides appear to be hollow and filled with an unknown shimmering substance. Skin is spiderwebbed with large cracks with blinding light spilling out. Frequency, energy and saturation of light match the Original Light(see [REDACTED]). Is surrounded almost completely by a large sphere comprised entirely of the unknown substance that fills Paradise Lost’s insides. Observers have reported seeing images of extreme beauty flash across the surface of the sphere, typically scenes from a lush, flowering landscape. Given the nature of the being, this is suspected to be [REDACTED].
Paradise Lost’s appearance remains constant, and it has not exhibited any ability or inclination to shift shape or otherwise change its appearance.
WEAPONS/MAGICAL ABILITIES: Gathers a sphere of “shimmering [REDACTED]” around it. Sphere seems to possess several [REDACTED] properties, namely [REDACTED] as well as expanding in proportion to the rate it “consumes” matter. All but the strongest [REDACTED] that comes into contact with it are apparently assimilated and lost forever. [REDACTED] “starry skies” as well as other sights, representing some sort of distorted version of [REDACTED].
WEAPONS/MAGICAL ABILITIES additional notes: All non-specialized personnel are advised to flee on sight and make no attempt to approach Paradise Lost or come into contact with the “shimmering”. Do not underestimate the speed of the sphere’s expansion – fly as fast and as far as you possibly can.
Specialized personnel will have extra information of their own regarding what to do against Paradise Lost(see Harachiel’s report, Appendix IV), but are reminded to keep teleportation or beacon spells on stand-by at all times and, once again, never to underestimate the speed of the sphere’s expansion.
CONTAINMENT/SECURITY PROTOCOLS: Stasis(extreme inertia). Secured within the inner workings of the Divine Clock, which has the necessary magic to keep Paradise Lost contained. When transported, placed under a short-term binding and portalled to target location with all haste. [REDACTED]. Other angels are barred from accessing the Divine Clock in the meantime.
ADDITIONAL SECURITY PROTOCOLS: The Guardian of Eden. [REDACTED]
ADDITIONAL SECURITY PROTOCOLS additional notes: The identity of the Guardian himself seems to be more important in subduing Paradise Lost than his sword. Additional tests are being performed regarding this phenomenon at the moment; it is hoped that we will be able to understand Paradise Lost better though this.

-

Records: Paradise Lost Incident(Audio)
Excerpt(0300 Hours)
ARASCIEL: [garbled]...Thanks be to God, I’ve found it...
[Muffled noises, then silence. Video records confirm this to be the deaths of 5 angels – Barachael, Arasciel, Neunimael, Tichael and Raguel.]
End Excerpt

”Hey, demon!” One of the boys called out, his face a cruel sneer. “How does it feel, huh, knowing that you’ll never be loved or accepted by God!”

“Yeah, yeah, why don’t you just fuckin’ go to Hell already?” Another one barked out. “And stay there and burn! We don’t need the likes of you stinkin’ up our world!”

“N-No, I’m not...” I could barely manage a feeble whisper. “I-”

“Shut up!” The first boy snarled. A blink of white light, and a chunk of marble appeared in his hand, which he tossed at my face.

“Agh!” I cried out at the sharp pain. My glasses cracked from the impact, making it hard to see anything, aside from a trickle of red that’s getting into my eyes. “S-Stop...”

“Look, her blood’s actually red!” Completely ignoring my plea, the second boy pointed and gawked. “I thought demons had, like, I dunno, nasty green blood or somethin’?”

“Why don’t we find out more?” The first boy’s mouth broke into a grin that makes my skin crawl, as he took a step toward me.

“No, s-stay b-”

With a blink of light, the first boy suddenly disappeared. And a moment later, I suddenly felt another sharp pain, this time a vicious kick against the small of my back, making me fall face-first to the floor. Then a foot against the back of my head, the other boy’s, keeping me there. And…

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

This time the pain was so much worse, stabbing into the tailbone and shooting up through the spinal column into my whole body. And I was feeling it near the tip of my tail, the boy’s hand gripping it so tightly that it felt like I was being crushed. He… He’s trying to pull my tail off! I-

“Hey, c’mon, you said you ain’t a demon, right?” The second boy bent down, mouth moving closer to my ears, but his foot pressing my face only further into the floor. “So why don’tcha prove it, huh? Show us that those wings and tail ain’t real! Ahahaha!”

“Yeah… And you know what? Some demons can regenerate, right?” I could practically feel the sadistic glee dripping from the first boy’s voice. “Care to give us a live demonstration? Hehehe...”

“No.. D-Don’t...” I tried to struggle, but what could my thin and scrawny frame do against two healthy boys…? “Please, someone… H-Help...”

“Shut it!” The first boy shouted. “You don’t get to ask for our help, demon!” I felt his other hand grip my tail as well. Then he began to pull, with all his strength.

Something snapped.

For a moment, it hurt so much that I thought I was going to die... Then by pure reflex, a wave of power surged out of me, washing over the two boys and the rest of the room. The pulling force and crushing grip on my tail instantly disappeared, as did the the pressure on the back of my head. Shaking, I struggled to stand up, and-

“Gaaaaagh…!” The second boy, the one who had been stepping on me a moment ago, was now the one lying on the ground, his face contorted in pain. I could see the beads of cold sweat on his skin, as he clutched his chest and wheezed. “I… I can’t breathe...”

“What… What did you do… Demon?!” The first boy, stronger than the other one, was on his knees, desperately trying not to collapse as he forced the words out of his mouth. He was all healthy and powerful earlier, but now it looked like he’d been sick for days… The power from me was filling the room, a dull purplish gray gloom that surrounded the boys, gnawing at their life force and sapping their wills to live. “S-So… You finally show your true colors...”

“N-No, I… I don’t...” Frantically reaching into myself, I tried to grasp for something, anything, to get the deadly life-draining haze to stop. I… I didn’t want to kill anyone! But at this rate…

“H… Help…” The last word escaped from the second boy’s mouth, before his eyes rolled up into his head. My power was killing him, and there was nothing I could do to stop it…

“What in God’s name is going on here?!”

Sister Claire, one of the nuns that took care of us at the orphanage, barged into the room, a horrified look on her face. A white wind burst forth from her, rapidly washing away the purple gloom. Then she sent a bolt of light that struck me in the chest, but felt like flooding my entire being with icy, frozen water; it was only a few seconds later that I realized that the life-draining power had stopped flooding out of me.

“Brandon! Jacob!” Sister Claire hurried to the two boys, her hands glowing with soft white energy that quickly made them look better. “What happened, dear?”

“The demon… She...” The first boy pointed at me, his eyes full of venom.

“I see.” Sister Claire’s gaze was so cold that it made me shudder.

“N-No, they…” I began frantically. “They attacked me f-first, and-”

“Silence!” Sister Claire shrieked, and I could see the wintry aura surging from her. “I’ll have none of your lies, demonspawn. Need I remind you of the limitless magnanimity and compassion of our Almighty Lord, passed on through us, that allows even an utterly wretched soul like you to continue your miserable existence?” She took a step toward me, and a whip of chilling white light coalesced in her hand. “Pitiful miscreation, looks like you’ve forgotten how to be grateful. So allow me to remind you...”

“P-Please, n-”

I didn’t even get to finish as the nun’s cold, terrible power lashed into me. Then I screamed.

…

My eyes flutter open to see the pastel floral patterns of the walls of our bedroom, in darkness. Mikkun lies beside me, his arms wrapped protectively around my body, and I can feel his warmth and gentle breathing.

...oh.

Ohhhhhhh.

So that was a dream.

Sigh. How unpleasant… Thanks to Mikkun’s… help, I don’t have to worry about being bothered by this kind of bullshit, not anymore. But still. Bleeeegh.

I glance at the clock projected onto the ceiling. 3 AM, huh… Well, after all that, I sure don’t feel like going back to sleep again anytime soon. Ugh. Now, what to do…

Looking back at Mikkun, I drink in the sight of his peaceful sleeping face. God, he looks so handsome that I just wanna gobble him up… Hehe. I briefly wonder if I should wake him up so that he can… entertain me. But nah. I snuggle closer to him, close my eyes, and extend a wisp of consciousness into his sleeping mind. It’s like falling through an endless sea of stars…

A moment later, the stars part way to reveal an endless expanse of white, where I see Mikkun swinging his sword around in precise, fluid motions. He immediately senses my presence too, of course, and turns to face me.

“Maria? Are you feeling alright?” He asks, probably feeling through our connection that my mood isn’t the best right now, and his face is full of concern. Ehehe, I’m probably the only person to see him with an expression like this… I feel so special.

“Well, just had a dream about, you know… before,” I say, wrinkling my nose a bit at the word.

“I’m sorry to hear that…” In a blink of starry blackness, he appears in front of me. “Can I do anything to make you feel better?”

“Nah, I’m okay.” I think for a bit. “Actually… The dream kind of left a bad taste in my mouth. So maybe we can, you know… replace it with a better taste, hmm?” I lick my lips suggestively.

“Yes, of course you would ask for this kind of thing,” he chuckles. “Why am I not surprised?”

“What? Maybe I just meant ice cream!” I blink innocently.

“Come on now, we both know what you meant,” he says, and gives me an indulgent smile. “Now then, you haven’t blatantly seduced me in any way yet, so I presume you have something else in mind?”

“Well… I don’t want to keep you from sword practice. So how about we spar for a bit?” The corners of my mouth curl up in a naughty little smirk. “Whoever wins gets to tie the other up.”

“Challenge accepted.” Mikkun brandishes his sword, a pitch black blade with brilliant white stars gleaming within. Man, no matter how many times I see it, I always think it’s cool as all hell. The rest of him is sort of halfway between his human and spirit forms, his body human but wearing the men’s kimono made of starry chaos that’s the staple of his spirit form.

As for me… The lacy black babydoll I’m wearing already leaves not much to the imagination, but I think I’m going to change to something more… exciting. The babydoll dissolves into gauzy dark smoke, then coalesces into a tiny little thong and strapless push-up bra, made of black leather, fully but barely covering the delicate bits. Sheer dark thigh-high stockings cover my legs, and a pair of high-heeled black pumps appear on my feet. The soulshard Yumekiri appears in my hands, its blade currently a deep shadowy black that matches my outfit.

“Ah, there is the blatant seduction.” Mikkun gives a faint grin, and I shiver in delight as I see him unable to help but to look up and down at me. After all, how can he ever possibly resist my sexy, gorgeous, alluring body? Hehe… “Do you think that’s actually going to distract me?”

“Against you, I gotta have every advantage I can get.” I smile sweetly. It’s totally not because I just like dressing up sexily for him, not at all, nooooope. As we bow to each other before the duel, I make sure he gets a good look at my cleavage. Then I give my katana a suggestive lick. “Shall we begin?”

…but of course, my swordsmanship skill is no match for that of an ancient spirit like Mikkun. After a short, but intense, duel, his sword is plunged right through my abdomen, streams of purple dreamstuff bleeding from the wound. Mikkun himself has quite a few wounds on his body too, each oozing starry chaos, but none of them is anything that’d be fatal to a normal human. Obviously, even if this isn’t taking place in a completely imaginary dreamscape, wounds inflicted by ordinary weapons are pretty much completely meaningless to us, and don’t even hurt, which is why we can do this without holding back. But the duel has to have a victory condition, after all. Since it’s a purely skill-based, non-magical duel, as if we’re normal humans, the rule is that whoever inflicts a wound that’s fatal to normal humans is the winner. “I believe this will be my win,” says Mikkun, and pulls his sword out of my body.

…sex joke.

“Yes, it is…” All the wounds on me quickly disappear, leaving my skin flawless once again. As I fall to my knees, I send out a flick of willpower to call up a number of tendrils of darkness, which bind my arms and legs into an… interesting pose. “You’ve bested me, Master, so please claim your prize…” I’m flushed from the adrenaline rush of the duel, but that’s quickly being replaced by a different kind of excitement altogether…

“Hey, does it even count if you tie up yourself?” Mikkun’s voice is amused, but I can feel his hungry gaze drinking up every bit of my almost-naked body as I display myself for him. He’s almost always so stoic, and I’m the only person that he lets go of that facade in front of… It sets my nerves aflame with desire.

“Who cares… Take me already…!” I writhe against the bonds. Yes, I can break them if I really want, since I’m the one who conjured them in the first place, but my mind is so consumed by the heat of the moment that it has room for hardly anything else. And, of course, the bad feelings from the dream earlier are all but forgotten…

"Ugh, I hate going into the slums." I said as I walked the cold alleyways of Millenial city.

"Then why did you insist on going? You still haven't told me."

"Yeah, sorry. I have an informant that says the Protectorate has a hit out on someone powerful. And they're intercepting her tonight."

"Okay, that still doesn't explain why we're interfering. You don't go after every little Protectorate raid like some kind of magic batman or something."

"Except this isn't a little raid. The person they're taking out is strong, which means they'll send strong PCU's. A loss like that will definitly hurt them. More importantly however, the person is a powerful member of the Millenial Union."

"Ah, I see. So you want to make a manly first impression on this lovely lady." The knight said with a suggestive smile. He began dramatizing his every action. "Rescuing her from the clutches of evil like a gallant prince will surely curry favor in the MU's court."

Heat rose to my face. "I-it's not like that you dolt! Her being female has nothing to do with it. We will simply assist her in driving off the assassins, make a show of our skills, and ask to join."

Lancelot exploded with mirth. "HAHAHAHAHA! Oh you are far too easy to tease, anyway are we getting close?"

"I belive so yes. Actually..." I drifted off as I looked to the top of a nearby apartment building. It was about four stories tall, I can totally make that. I closed my mouth and exhaled, mana flowing freely into my circuits as I cast an anti-gravity spell. Like a taut balloon, we took off readily, passing empty windows and chipped brickwork on the way up. As we landed comfortably on the roof, I started to walk over to the edge of the building. I took out a scoped .22 long rifle out of my bag and got into a prone position, adjusting myself to get the best view. Lancelot, with the grace of a thousand year old soldier, slipped up fluidly a few feet beside me. "What are we looking at?" He asked.

"That warehouse across the street, look." As I said this my gaze fell upon the door of a large, almost hanger-like warehouse. The doors only half open, there appeared to be someone hanging around the entrance. A young, impossibly cute 20something japanese girl in skimpy, almost whorish clothing. It was a wonder she hadn't frozen to death already. The most interesting feature however was her impossible cleavage lithe tail and bat wings, akin to a sexy devil costume a cheeky teacher might wear on halloween, albiet far less, revealing.

"There are mana signatures approaching, from the east. Three spirits, three humans. Six in total."

I opened my third eye and saw what lancelot was talking about. Six blobs of mana, indistinct but getting stronger, were approaching through the back alleyways opposite the way we came.

"Activate For Someone's Glory. Hide in the alleyway we came in on. I want you on the ground and mana dark until I give the signal."

Lancelot wordlessly lept into action. A white fog materialized around him, making him nearly drop off my radar entirely. Incredible, even for someone with as skilled a sixth sense as I, he was nearly impossible to focus on. In the same second, he sprinted to the railing, his black suit evaporating in exchange for shimmering silver armor. leaping off the railing with catlike agility, he fell toward the aging pavement with a gentle woosh of the air around him. I whspered as he fell, "Featherfall." and a gravity spell softened his fall to a noiseless landing. I trained my gun on the girl, watching her every movement. She looked bored, seemingly unaware of her surroundings. Seemingly. I doubt a powerful person like you would be so blind, unless it's all just an act...

Things were about to get interesting...

So... I've been stood up.

...well, no, not really. I'm the one who's early. But hey, come on, if you ask a girl to meet you, alone, claiming to be a fan of hers, shouldn't you be the one who's supposed to come early? Especially if it's at some back-alley warehouse like this, in the slums. Seriously, can there possibly be a less romantic spot for a date? Geez, some guys...

Or maybe this whole thing is just some kind of trap.

I mean, I don't want to be too quick to judge, but... So a guy emails us and says he wants to join the Union. Okay, fair enough. And he says he's specifically a big fan of yours truly. Still fair, and I'm flattered. But then he says he wants to meet me, alone, at this secluded area, so that he can ask me some questions before joining. Um... Yes, he could just be a really enthusiastic fan who's a bit clueless about etiquette and stuff. On the other hand, he could be a stalker, at the very least, if not something even worse. I'm giving him the benefit of the doubt here, since I came at all, but I'm not stupid enough to completely rule out these things when there's suspicious behavior.

And I'm bored... Even though it's only been around fifteen minutes. There isn't even any good scenery around here.

Nah, that's not true. I am the best scenery that there'll ever be, of course; so I start looking over myself again to pass the time. Today I've gone with the classic knockout outfit of crop top with spaghetti straps, and tight miniskirt, all made of black leather, plus sheer lacy stockings with garter belts, and high-heeled boots, also black. Then some shiny black bracelets adorned with rubies, to draw attention to the bare skin of my arms. Bright red lipstick and nail polish. And finally, a black leather collar, for that extra little kinky flair. Ehehe... If this guy really is a fan of me, I wonder if I'll give him a heart attack.

That, or it might just look weird in this chilly weather. Oh well, it's still sexy, so who cares? I've taken baths in the frozen rivers of Niflheim without any problems, so this kind of weather is pretty much literally nothing. Besides, isn't it exciting? To wear a really skimpy outfit when everyone else is wearing thick clothes because of the cold. It was great, that time in Niflheim, when I paraded myself around in nothing but a black string bikini, even in those blizzards that made it white everywhere. Those frost shades and jötnar blew more than a few gaskets at that! Hehe.

Suddenly, I feel a faint little breeze wash over me. Breeze? No, that's not it; it's some kind of magic. Hard to tell, but it's probably someone's sixth sense, maybe? It's subtle enough that I can't quite tell where it's from, only that it's somewhere in the direction I'm facing. Then I feel another wave, from behind me this time. Well, well. It's finally starting to get a little more interesting.

BANG!

Everything goes dark.

Okay, no, not everything. My sixth sense is obviously still fine, and it's my normal human senses that suddenly all went "poof". Ah... I know this feeling. Someone just shot a hole through my head. How rude! Anyways, tracing back through the memories of the last few milliseconds, and scanning the wound, it seems that the shot came from behind me, probably right through walls and everything. Aha, so this is a trap! Damn, and I was hoping we'd get a nice new recruit... Ugh.

For a moment I consider if I should turn back toward whoever shot me and give him a piece of my mind, literally. But nah. Instead, I just let myself fall to the ground, blood and brain matter oozing from the hole in my forehead, and deliberately not fix the wound, as if I've really died from that. Looks pretty gruesome, I know, but I'd rather play dead and catch the asshole by surprise. I focus on hiding the presence of my aura with my best illusion magic, making it look like the aura is almost gone and I'm thus actually dead. At the same time, I send out my own telepathic scanning wave, as subtly as possible, and masked using the same cloaking magic. Ha, I bet I can do better than the guy that shot me!

Okay, so... I sense about six people from behind me, three humans and three spirits; whoever shot me is presumably one of them. There's a human on a rooftop in the direction I was facing, and some kind of weird indistinct blur in the same direction. That's a guy also cloaking himself, right? Hard to tell where he even is. At this distance, I also can't glean much more than those other people's general locations, not without using a stronger scanning spell and potentially exposing myself, especially when they're already aware of my position like this. Maybe if they come closer... Hmm. There're quite a few of them, so this could get a bit hairy. I begin preparing a disruption spell to melt through whatever anti-teleportation wards and other traps they might be thinking of using. And of course, at the same time, I'm still lying on the ground in a slowly-expanding pool of my own blood, like the headshot victim that I am. Let's see what those guys will do, shall we?

Fast. That was all I had time to think. She's really fast. And then I was on my back, five feet from where I was standing with a throbbing jaw and a sharp pain from my landing. I could feel my back cracking as my limbs followed gravity's urging and leveled with the rest of me on the ground. Thankfully, I was spared her taunting this time. Rolling onto my stomach, I pushed myself back up and turned to face her once again. It took less than a second to get my guard up, and yet the instant that my hand reached its upheld position, a heavy blow to my chest sent me flying once again.

"You've got to predict the opponent's move before they make it. Against a dangerous enemy, your reaction time is slow enough to kill you multiple times over."

I know that. Of course I know that. My father's teachings aside, I've been training with a monster for a year now. A monster that is by all means fascinating. Demons and "demons" have been a fascination of mine since a young age, and thanks to her I was acutely aware of how hard it is to fight them. I brought myself back to my feet and readied myself. My human body simply wasn't able to keep up with hers, so an equalizer was necessary. I began to soak my shoes in my soul's natural energy as I prepared a plan of attack. My opponent and I stared at each other; it was obvious she was giving me a break that I didn't deserve, but I intended to take full advantage of it. The tension broke and I closed the distance between us, attempting a punch which she immediately used to throw me over her shoulder and onto my back for the third time in as many minutes.

I hissed through my teeth at the pain. Standing up once again, I rushed at her, ducking below her punch and countering with one of my own directly into her solar plexus. Had it connected, I might have gained the advantage, but as it were, she spun outward and yanked my arm behind my back to incapacitate me. After a moment she let go and we squared off again. All I had to do was "win" once, something that was challenging at best and infuriatingly difficult more often.

After another five minutes and twice as many defeats, I was ready to attempt my plan. As subtly as I could, I pulled down the back of my shoe, keeping the ball of my foot inside. The instant my opponent began to rush at me, I kicked it forwards and the loose shoe became a projectile aimed at her head. Unsurprisingly, she dodged it, but that was the point. I immediately teleported to the shoe and, now midair, lashed out at her neck with my leg, catching her still moving the opposite direction. The force sent me spinning onto my side a few feet away, but I had done it. I had landed a finishing blow, and it was over. For the first time in months, I had sparred with Zadkiel and won.

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Kain thought back to that day, the day he developed his now signature technique out of desperation. He still watched the recording of that match sometimes, to remind himself of the progress he'd made and that every step was as difficult as the current ones. Finished reminiscing, he collected his work and left the machine shop he occasionally visited. Today was a rather uneventful day, in no small part due to it being the day that he and his partner, Zadkiel, (or "Zee," to him) were separated, a monthly event for the two. Without her around he was far less likely to be targeted by angels, and this was only furthered by his errand taking him to the slums of Millennial City, where demon influence was somewhat higher. Of course, the trade-off was that he might be targeted by said demon influence, but in Kain's experience demons were more reasonable than their "holy" counterparts.

What a beautiful day, he thought as he left the shop. "I can't really put my finger on it, but... I get the feeling that today is gonna be pretty good."

Bang! A gunshot. A gunshot in the slums? Not incredibly uncommon, but... Damn instincts. Kain thought, turning towards the sound. So much for a good day, he thought as he began to run.

Bang!

A gunshot. The world seemed to be in slow motion. As blood, bone chunks, and brain matter splattered the pavement, I watched in shock as the girl's lifeless body slumped over onto the ground.

"Fuck fuck fuckity fuck fucking fuck!" I hissed to myself through clenched teeth. I quickly loaded a round and took aim at one of the blobs of mana. They were getting more distinct as they got closer now, one of them just getting off the ground. That must be the gunner, so I'll eliminate him first. They are going to pay for the innocent blood spilt here tonight. The group is behind a few buildings, likely thinking themselves safe from counterattack. How sweet it will be to prove them wrong. The rifle I'm holding isn't a normal .22, the barrel is enchanted with magnetic spells bound into the metal, accelerating rounds far beyond normal muzzle velocities. On top of that, the rounds are impregnated with gravitational energy, increasing their effective weight. These custom enchantments allow each round to impact with the kinetic energy of a .50 cal round. Time to shatter that illusion of safety.

Kra-kow!

The first round flies several blocks, punctures the wall, and rips the gunner in half. The other five burst into action, buzzing like bees. I reflexively snap off another three rounds, keeping them on the move.

Kra-kow! Kra-kow! Kra-kow!

That's four. I have a 50 round drum mag so I won't run out soon, but I can't get careless. Suddenly, a wave of energy washes over me, blinding my 6th sense. "Aaah!" I exclaim, as if a bright light had been flashed in my eyes after spending an hour in complete darkness. It must have been a jamming spell, and I stared right into it; I wasn't ready for that. I yell telepathically to Lancelot, "Cover me!" As I reorient myself, the indistinct silver blur dashes into the open, stopping in front of the dead girl. My 6th sense was trying to get a read, but everything was blurry. Like trying to listen to a specific conversation 6 rows away in a football stadium.

"James, should I draw Arondight?" He said, as a PCU walked around the corner, eyes locked on Lancelot. Well, locked on was a bit of an exaggeration. His eyes were visibly struggling to stay focused through the illusion fog that obscured his vision.

"No." I said, "We don't want to go all out quite yet. Let's leave them a little, suprise." I concentrated, and summoned my soulshard into Lancelot's hand, a cloud of blue mist that condensed into a zweihander. The false spirit materialized dual bladed tonfas on his arms, the real fight had just begun.

Jack could smell the odor of sulfur in the air while he moseyed his way down the street. He pretended not to notice the stench as he drank out of a bottle of beer, some fruity shit with the taste of apples and whatnot. Sulfur tended to parade in front of some demons who are too supercilious to think that it might be a problem for them to noticeably wreak of fermented shit. Demons who thought that it was okay to enslave humans in a soul pact until they’re dried up and useless, the kind of demon that wouldn’t be on Jack’s current level of power and skill and wouldn’t have a soul pact to empower it to overcome the hybrid fighter. Of course, it was also possible that none of these things were true and Jack was walking to his death and/or enslavement.


The dragon known as Agnostos sat alone on a street corner, back against cement as he watched people walk by. The lonely god quietly hid behind the robe of a beggar, a torn and ragged white cloth covering his face as he was intent on barely being noticed. He was people watching, a seemingly menial past-time of his that could prove rather entertaining at times. People had no clue how much information about their private lives they left out in the open for the unnoticed of society to soak up and retain. As a loner who knew his way around various factions and their schemes, soaking up this menial knowledge could prove to be more invaluable than one might think.

He could hear shots a few blocks over and assumed there was another shuffle going on between two opposing factions. Such needless confrontation in Millennial City was a surefire way to make the citizens feel unsafe and volatile, but he guessed if you wanted to assassinate someone it was a great place to do it. Agnostos materialized his soulshard in his hand and willed the rod to lengthen into a cane for him to shamble about on as he rose to his feet and walked the opposite way of the shooting, not feeling like getting anywhere near conflict today.


Draconic wings flared to life as Jack shot up into the air off the sidewalk with his odd jumping capabilities. Not flapping but more gliding, he went down the street free of the bustling side walkers, expanding his sixth sense to be sure there was danger for a flyer in this part of the city. From the air he had a better view of those walking around as well as an easier time looking down the length of alleyways, searching for the source of that smell. Several yards further and he saw a white figure dart into an alleyway after a man in beggars clothes. Something seemed off about the scene though… it almost looked like an angel was following a man in some seed manner, something very uncharacteristic for the mana alignment. Jack withdrew his wings and dropped to a spot on the sidewalk half a block ahead of where the alley was, and started working his way toward it, finding that, oddly enough, the smell of sulfur was getting stronger.


Agnostos had turned down an alleyway that he had planned to nap in, away from prying eyes so he could feel detached. He wanted to mull over the possibilities of forging a soul pact with a human, feeling like the intimacy would do him good. However, he was still needlessly upset over Pan, even though it had been over 3,000 years since his disappearance. Though Agnostos was friendly and loving and always making new friends and acquaintances, he STILL didn’t like the idea of the kind of intimate friendship he had with Pan. Agnostos was a firm believer that you only got 4 or 5 chances in your life to meet someone you could share your life with, whether lover or friend. He was saddened by the idea that he could waste one of his chances making a soul pact with some random human, but at the same time he saw it as an opportunity to have a companion in his travels.

It didn’t look like he was going to be given any privacy today, however. The stench of sulfur flooded the alleyway and he turned around to see what appeared to be a hooded angel with wings adorned in white gold. Sulfur was not something he was accustomed to smelling from those aligned with the light, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up as his sixth sense did not detect a hint of light alignment from this creature. It was dark and foreboding, the feelings he caught from the thing, and he could feel the melancholy emotions inside of himself flowing carelessly to his fingertips and into Metallaxi as his soulshard began to get a green tint and smell of acid.


Jack turned into the alleyway right as the white figure of an angel exploded in a cloud of darkness as the sickening shape of a demon of decay went forth from the cloud as it quickly dispersed. The creature had begun to advance on the beggar man in white, seemingly hungry and sadistic. Jack quickly recognized that the demon had no intent on making a soul pact with the beggar, and he immediately spat out a cigarette that had been sitting between his teeth.

As the cigarette fell to the ground, Jack’s form quickly shuddered and contorted as he focused his dark alignment. Black fire burned at his skin as the traits of the demon he devoured intensified into his more satanic appearance. “I’m feeling lazy today Marlboro, how bout we give this guy a nice toastin’~” He said, the demon quickly turning around to see a smiling Jack with a medieval style canon at his feet, gently smoking. The cigarette Jack had dropped was his soulshard of choice for his demon mode, and he had willed it to materialize into a Canon of Sloth by the time it hit the ground.


Agnostos covered his face as a blast of black fire was shot from the other side of the alley by what appeared to be another demon. The fire seemed to stop without reason right before it would lick at Agnostos, instead it ate at the demon who had followed him into the alley. That demon seemed to be simply scathed by the flames and was ready to retaliate against the newcomer, but Agnostos quickly decided he wouldn’t let it. Pathos Metallaxi went from a green tint to a firey red as it burst into flames, engulfed by the anger of Agnostos. The demon stalker did not seem to currently have a pact as its mana signature was rather restrained, and this told Agnostos that he could fight rather than run.

“I just wanted to nap dammit!” yelled the unknown god as he burst forward off his feet into a dead run, his soulshard sharpening into a large blade as it slashed into his assailant, rending his head from his shoulders. As it dropped to a ground with a thud. The body quickly fell after it, seeming to slowly disintegrate into a grey smoke. Rather than stick around to see if he had slowed down the demon significantly enough by decapitating it, not knowing whether that was enough to kill it or if it had some kind of regenerating ability.


Five minute later, both Agnostos and Jack were running frantically down the street. Jack was planning on staying to fight the demon but Agnostos jerked him from the alleyway with inhuman strength and growled at him to follow if he knew what was good for him. So, Jack went with the man in confusion and slight wonderment, Malboro having re-appeared between his lips like a cigarette. The two ran away from the demon in the opposite direction of the earlier gun shots until Agnostos jerked Jack by the arm into a bar, pausing for breath.

“I owe you one, demon.”
“I’m not exactly a demon bro, more of an impersonator, and a damned good one.”
“Human?”
“Yeah.”
“I think I know how to repay you.”

Suddenly, the guy perched on the rooftop ahead of me fires off a shot of his own, which rips the gunner in half. Wow, he's not joking around. Then he takes another three shots. So, I guess he's on my side, for now... My attackers are getting closer to me now, giving me a better look at them. From the sleek and mechanical feel of their auras, I can tell that the spirits are all PCUs. And not just any PCUs... Bernoulli was nice enough to let us analyze him when he joined, and these guys feel very similar. It's like remains of other spirits have been stitched into them with unsettling efficiency, really hammering in the idea that the only spirits that can be allowed to exist are ones that serve humans without question. Yep, those are Protectorate PCUs.

Sigh. Of course it's those psychos. Who else had given the Union so much trouble after we were created? Ugh. Now, should I-

Before I can finish my thought, another wave of energy from those Protectorate guys washes over me, this one a lot more unpleasant. As in, literally, it's so bad that it makes all my senses recoil from the contact, including the sixth sense, and they remain numb even after it goes away. Ahaha, a blinding spell? Passable, but you gotta do better than that if you wanna shut me down, losers! I focus inward and quickly flood myself with invigorating energy, washing away the numbness.

Are you all right, Maria? I hear Mikkun's telepathic voice through our pact. Do you want me to come and help?

Nah, I can handle these idiots, I say. Besides, seems like I've got help too?

Very well. I feel Mikkun mentally nod. Be careful.

Yeah, I will. I telepathically send the thought of a smile. Thanks.

One of the PCUs is coming close now. It's almost two meters tall, looking like a particularly strong and imposing human, clad in shiny, steely gray mechanical plates, but the way it moves with streamlined fluidity tells me that it's probably a lot more agile than it looks. Liquid metal materializes around its arms and solidify into a pair of bladed tonfas, and the robotic white eye lights from its visor focus on... the indistinct blur from before. He stops just in front of me, squaring off against the PCU. Hmm... I can vaguely feel that he's Light-aligned, but even at this distance, I can't tell much else from him through my passive sixth sense alone. And if I try to pierce that veil with a scanning spell, I'll almost definitely expose myself as well. Hmm... If he's with the Celestiarchy, it makes sense for him to fight those Protectorate psychos. But that means I can't really trust him either... And I don't know about the guy over there on the rooftop either; still too far away to tell anything without giving myself away. What to do...

Oh, I know.

Under the illusory veil I've been maintaining, I condense my power into a small blob around my soul. Keeping another veil around myself in this blob form, I sink into the ground, leaving my former body an empty shell made of dreamstuff. It's effectively an actual corpse now, so I let the veil around it fade away, subtly enough that people won't notice the change unless they're at least as good at this as myself, since the projected illusion and the real thing underneath are now identical. Phasing through the solid ground, I horizontally dash away, then up into the air. And...

Pure Trance.

The veil falls apart around me, revealing the new body that I've just created. The basic shape is the same, but it's now wearing a backless white evening gown, revealing the pair of large, feathery angelic wings now coming out of my back. My hair is now silvery white, and flowing past my waist. This time my legs are bare, hints of them showing through the dress, and on my feet are strappy silver heels. A silver necklace, pair of bracelets, and earrings. White nail polish. And lastly, a silver mask covers my whole face, smooth except some wing-like patterns etched around the eye holes, a soft lavender light glowing from underneath.

Oh, and my old body is still on the ground, as I descend from the sky. I don't know if any of them had gotten clear looks at my aura before, but my aura is definitely different now, a gentle white that should look Light-aligned unless they carefully analyze it to find the impurities. With me looking like an angel right now, and very different from the body that lies on the ground, hopefully those Protectorate assassins will think that I'm someone new and not the Hanazawa Maria that they've been sent to eliminate. And hopefully this other Light-aligned person will see me as friendly. If I've had more time, maybe I could've made a better disguise, but it's not my specialty, so this'll have to do for now...

"I heard a gunshot. Who are you, and why are you attacking innocent people?" I say to the PCU, in a gentle voice that has a bit of otherworldly reverberations to it. "Are you here to stop him?" I ask the indistinct blur. Of course, I don't really expect the PCU to answer, but hopefully my wording will make the other guy cooperate with me...

The big spirit tensed up, weapons drawn and assumed a dangerous looking stance in preparation for combat. Lancelot did similar, the grip on his zweihander tightening ever so slightly. The tension in the air was palpable, but I wasn't worried. Lancelot was the most martial of all the knights of king arthurs round table, no patchwork spirit was going to beat him that easily.

Just as the two spirits were about to tear into each other, a bright light opens up overhead. My scope instantly snaps from the dual to this new arrival, and I am immediately filled with dread. A masked angel, clad in white, descends from the sky and hovers above the battlefield. I consider opening fire, but I manage to restrain myself and see if it isn't openly hostile. Lancelot whips around to face both the newcomer and the PCU, no less relaxed as if he intended to fight both of them at the same time.

"I heard a gunshot. Who are you and why are you attacking innocent people?" Her voice seems to emanate calmness, but it's otherworldly vibration instead makes me even more uneasy. Her face turns to Lancelot. "Are you here to stop him?"

I stand up on the rooftop and call out to the being. "Yes. These people are vile racists and murderers. Their spirits are patchwork unfeeling monsters created by killing innocent spirits. If you have not been sent to hunt me today, your help would be appreciated."

Oops, seems like that was the wrong move... If being "hunted" is a concern to them at all, then they can't be with the Celestiarchy after all? Maybe I can switch to a different trance, and... No, that'll only make them even more suspicious.

"Please relax," I begin to say. "I am not from the Celestiarchy, and I'm not here to hunt-"

My reflexes warn me of a sudden movement. The gunner on their side... He's still alive! I barely move in time to erect a barrier of solid white light, as it stops the enchanted bullet from continuing its way toward the person on the rooftop.

"Our business here is already finished, angel, and it does not involve you," the armored PCU speaks, its voice flat and emotionless and reminding me of cold steel. "But your existence alone is a threat to us, so you must die."

No... Dammit, why does it always have to be like this? I-

Another wave of blinding energy comes, a much stronger one this time, covering the whole area in a thick dark haze. Immediately after, I feel something slam into me from the left, a blade digging into my flesh. Is that the PCU's human partner? He doesn't seem impeded by the fog...

A fight seems inevitable. I wish it doesn't have to be like this, but I really have no choice. I'm sorry, whatever your names are...

I unleash a burst of solid light from me, pushing back both the PCU and the other attacker. At the same time, I send out a wave of a more ethereal light, momentarily clearing away the dark fog around us. "Yes, I will help you!" I shout to both the indistinct blur next to me and the person back on the rooftop, while materializing a sword of light. "Can you take the lead?"

"GLADLY!" I exclaim, and I prepare for combat. Things resembling glowing blue circuitry race across my skin, covering my whole body in the glowing blue TRON lines that signify my reinforce magic. This angel just saved my life and doesn't seem to be too keen on ending it. So I guess questions can come later.

"You take the gunner! I'll handle the jammer!" I send telepathically. My feet send cracks that spiderweb through the concrete as I jump clean across the street rooftops. "My spirit can handle the CQC PCU on the ground, is your partner nearby? Can she take some of these guys? Even the odds a bit?"

I'm talking as I tackle the CQC specialist that stabbed the angel. He will definitely interfere if I start killing his buddies. We crash right through the warehouse rooftop, dropping another 40 feet to a hard landing on the cool concrete. I pick him up by the collar of his shirt and throw him across the room into the wall, my enhanced strength making it easier than throwing a baseball. He slowly gets up and staggers a bit before steadying himself, and I finally get a good look at him. A 6 foot 6 mountain of man, in camouflage pants and combat boots with a tan t-shirt and a graying blond crew cut. God, give this man a cigar and an m16 and he could walk right onto the set of an 80s action film and nobody would even notice. He pulls out a combat knife and starts walking towards me.

[Just so it's clear, if you find that Maria's internal narration style has changed compared to her initial few posts, it's because she's in one of her trance states at the moment. Each trance changes her personality somewhat, with a corresponding shift in narration style.]

---

Sorry, my partner is busy at the moment, I telepathically reply to the person. But it's alright, I should be able to handle these other people!

Okay... Disguising myself as an angel to try to gain my allies' trust turned out to be both unnecessary and counterproductive. Maybe I should have stayed hidden instead... No, it's okay, my old body is still lying there on the ground, and for now they seem to think that it's nothing more than just a dead body. So I can still look for an opportunity, and suddenly spring a trap from there...

Not bothering to stay hidden anymore, I sweep out with a full telepathic scan, though still careful to only use as much power as necessary; I don't want the Protectorate to gain more information about my magical capabilities than I can avoid. With this amount of power, seeing through the sensory-disruptive black fog is still not easy... But I still manage to quickly find the location of the gunner. This time, a powerful beam of green energy comes from him, but I dodge away enough in time that it only singes the upper part of my left wing. Ow... What a caustic power. Even though my wings are made of pure mana, it still kind of hurts. I quickly repair the wing, and turn into white energy, rapidly phasing through walls to arrive at where the gunner is.

When he comes into view, I'm surprised to find that the gunner... isn't really human. Yes, his aura feels just barely human enough, but... his body appears entirely mechanical, made of some bronze-colored metal, with rough circuit lines of acidic green running through it. The middle of his body appears melted with acid, but clearly in the process of fusing back together, where the other person's bullet had torn him in half earlier. Instead of a left hand, he has an arm cannon, with tubes extending out of it and connected to something like a small mechanical backpack; that's where I sense his spirit partner is. And... I don't feel there is actually a human soul in this mechanical shell? Is it just a remotely-controlled drone? Is that why it survived being torn in half?

My eyes lock with the gunner's visor for a moment, purple staring into toxic green.

"...is there any way we can resolve this peacefully?" I begin. "I'm sure I can-"

"You're sure you can sway me from my purpose that easily?" The Protectorate gunner's voice is cold. "Don't make me laugh."

Multiple openings on his chest suddenly form. Each releases a jet of sizzling green fire, blasting him backwards away from me, and the exhaust leaves a thick cloud of acidic smoke. Through the cloud, I can barely see his right arm whirl into the shape of something with multiple barrels, before he lets loose a barrage of bronze bullets. As the bullets travel through the cloud, they evidently become coated in acid, which painfully burn my flesh and magic circuits as they tear into me. Agh, that's not nice...

"I gave you a chance..." I call out, dejected that this one too refuses to compromise, just like almost every other member of the Protectorate... "I'm sorry." The holes torn into my body quickly heal, and orbs of soft, dreamy white light materialize around me, as I prepare to take him down as painlessly as possible.

If the sounds of gunfire and shouting were any indication, he was getting close. A few steps more and... Whoa. Suddenly a feeling of emptiness hit him like a wave. I'll take that as a 'fuck voyeurs' then. Moments later, another, stronger wave came and sent him into a daze. Shit. Keep running straight; ignore the numbness. So he did, continuing his path until he found himself running straight into a brick wall. Oww... he thought, but at least he was getting closer. Pausing for a moment to regain his senses, he looked around and...

Shit. An angel. What was an angel doing here? Kain ran closer to the warehouse that the angel was descending towards and hid behind a wall. That's when he noticed the PCUs and the tall man with the sword. Gods damnit, that would've been good to know. Lamenting his weak sixth sense, he observed the fighting with apprehension pooling in his gut. Okay, so. We've got what look like PCUs, an angel, a guy fighting the PCUs, and judging from the sounds on the other side of the wall, a few more people. Who the hell do I support here? Shit, shit. Okay. The angel probably doesn't care about me since Zee isn't here, and the Poes are... terrible. Kain quickly took inventory. His pocketknife, Zadkiel's soulshard, fifteen of his special needles... More than enough to take out a PCU or two. Now he just needed an opening.

"Give it up kid, you can't beat me." The big man growled.

Not up close. I thought. I needed to blow past him to get to that jammer, I can't keep wasting time on this guy. I raised my arms and Mana flowed into my circuits and gushed into the world, unleashing a firestorm that incinerated everything in its path. The man's eyes widened with shock before slamming shut as he was consumed in a wall of flame. My 6th sense saw the angels white aura through the fog, and a sickening green aura a little beyond that. I directed my firestorm a little to the left so as not to blast her too. I mean, she's pretty good, so she'd probably live, but no need to hinder a temporary ally.

Ka-Boom!

A hole big enough to drive a semi through opened up in the walls of the warehouse, singed wood and hot steel frame littered the ground around us.

Us?

Thick arms crossed in front of his body and his skin gleaming like steel, the commando was still very much alive. Much to my annoyance. I rushed forward and unleash a flurry of concrete shattering punches all over his torso. As my fists connect, his skin changes to gleaming grey everywhere my blows land. I punch harder, faster, the mercury-like substance vastly stronger than steel. Eventually I tire out and jump 50 feet straight back. My reinforced knuckles are sore & my breathing becomes heavy. The strain on my mana reservoir from the firestorm and my constant body reinforce magic starts to become apparent. The amulet under my shirt activates and starts pouring a controlled stream of mana into me, more of my fatigue disappearing with every breath. "Why won't you die!?" I exclaim.

"Heh heh heh, RAAAGH!" He roars as he tears off his shirt, revealing the pulsating quicksilver underneath. He retracts it from his arm seemingly mentally to show the thin membrane of liquid silver. "Liquisteel son. It hardens in response to physical trauma, you can't hurt me!"

We'll see about that. I think to myself. I should have enough soulstuff left to summon my soulshard. Lancelot won't have to go without a weapon for what I'm about to do. I summon three glowing spears floating around me, and begin to charge mana. It seems like a shootout, the air thick with tension. Just before I release, he charges me. Barreling at me like 300 pounds of beef and murder. He is about 30 feet from me when I release my killer combo. I place my Palm on the floor and transmute the floor back into a pool of unhardened concrete. He takes another step, and sinks, knee deep in the slab. As he trips and falls on his hands and knees, I reharden the concrete, trapping his limbs.

"You think this will hold me?" He sneers, and starts to slowly slide free from the liquisteel. I send another pulse through the floor, cementing the grip on his limbs and hardening the floor to impossibly tough levels. Stopped so abruptly, the man grunts and starts exerting a superhuman amount of force to break the magically hardened concrete. Despite my efforts, the man slowly starts sliding out of his concrete prison. But as he spends more and more mana to break my trap, the liquisteel on his back begins to quiver. Desperately trying to keep him still and aim at the same time, I fire my soul spears. My hunch pays off, he had little mana to spare to harden his back, his concentration spent attempting to break free. My spears penetrate the still liquid steel, puncturing his vital organs. As his lifeless body slumps to the ground, I put out a powerful scan for the jammer. Penetrating the veil, I see him behind the building next to this one.

And the only thing in between us is that gunner spirit in the ally with the angel. Fuck. Oh well, it's two on one. We can take him. I put my body reinforce on, throw up some shimmering blue shields, and jog out of the hole in made in the building to see how she's doing.

A bright green power gathers in the gunner's left hand cannon, and the Gatling gun in his right hand begins spinning. He points the gun at me, and I move to the right, meaning to move out of the way of the spray of bullets... But what comes out is instead a very wide spread of bullets, like a shotgun, wide enough that I haven't moved quickly enough to be outside its arc; I wince as the acid-coated bullets pierce my flesh once again. Suddenly, I feel another attack coming, from behind me; is that the jammer? The orbs of light around me move to form a shield, blocking the attack, a beam of paralytic black haze. But as I do that, I see the gunner unleashing the beam he's been charging, the caustic energy coming straight at my heart.

They're serious... Of course, not like I'm expecting anything else. My disguise seems to be working so far, and they aren't linking me to Hanazawa Maria, whom they think they've already killed. So it's okay for me to be a little more serious too, isn't it?

For a brief moment time seems to slow down, and the beam of acidic green energy is moving toward me at almost a snail's pace. I dissolve into light, swerve to the right and then toward the gunner, moving at a seemingly normal speed in this state of accelerated thought when everything else appears many times slower. The green beam tears into buildings as if they're made of wet tissue paper, but by then I've long since moved out of the way... relatively speaking, at least. I can't keep up this kind of accelerated mental speed for long without straining myself, but I don't need to. By the time I deactivate it, I've already moved into melee range of the gunner, as a blast of bright white and lilac comes out of my hand and strikes the gunner point-blank. It passes straight into the gunner's shoulder and torso, disrupting and jamming up any magic circuits in the way, while burning through any magical defenses it may have had. An instant later, the gunner shudders violently, sparks and smokes coming from underneath his armor. Looks like I'm right, and this is just a remotely controlled drone after all...

Suddenly, the gunner drone's backpack splits open, and a bronze spider-like robot with a large glowing green crystal attached to its back comes out of it. That must be the gunner's PCU! I prepare to unleash another blast, but then sense an abrupt and alarming rise of energy levels in the gunner drone. Its circuit lines are so much brighter now, but sizzling and crackling with energy. It's self-destructing! I quickly turn my whole body intangible, an instant before a massive burst of corrosive green magic engulfs me. At first, it still hurts, but then I pour more magic into my mana vessels to protect them, and the pain quickly disappears. A few seconds later, the blast dissipates, having dissolved all the concrete, bricks, and everything else within more than ten meters, and dug a large crater into the ground. And... The spider-like PCU is nowhere to be seen. It must have used the self-destruct as a distraction to teleport away, and the acidic explosion scoured everything around it, leaving almost no residual magic that I can use to trace back to the PCU's destination... Dammit.

Sweeping out with another scanning wave, I sense my ally impale his opponent with a spear of blue energy, and the Protectorate soldier fall to the ground, his life force rapidly fading away. I wince for a moment, but quickly steel myself. They can't be reasoned with, so this has to be done... And now there is only the jammer left. I begin sending out more scanning waves, trying to see where he's hiding.

Two men are in an apartment building dead. One is tortuviolent rapeing the other. He does it because the voices tell him to because his partner says the other his soul burns man ruined IT WAS YOsomething important. He does not know exactly what, JUMP INTO THE SUN he knows his partner would not lie to him, or doubt that the voices would rape and pillage do bad things to him if he stopped.

Eventually, the victim is left in a fuck you mangled state, unconscious but alive, and his partner tells him to finish the job leave. He begins to do so, despite the voices intensifi will eat you, but stops when a disturbance begins outside. The voices telltner tells him to kill them see what the ruckus is. He break your spine punches a hole through the wall and looks rapeshisownskullthroughthebullet hole. There, he spies you're stupid and what appears to be the god of god of god an angel fighting along side several others failure at life and a corpse.

KILL IT DESTROY THE CORPSE FUCK ITS BRAINS RIDDLE WITH HOLE YOU FUCKING FUCKHEAD GO AND EAT SHIT YOU ABSOLUTE CUNT YOU SUCK YOU SUCK YOU SUCK IF YOU DON'T DO THIS YOU'RE A COCK FUCKING FA

His partner tells him that the corpse is a fake, left by one of the other beings in the area. He needs to destroy us ALL kill all of them, because one of them jesusloveouthisiow is a part of the First Sphere. He has no choice. He must BURN BURN BURNTOTHE GROUND

He emits a wide burst of being a loser dark grey electricity, violently likes mencal architecture and severely electroshocktreatment down to the braain every being in the vicinity, at the same pain for pain in ain to substantially improve his speed and strength, becoming KONO DIO DADADADADA horrific to behold. perform the begin the ceremony leaps and takes a swipe at the nearest foe

The air was cool, I stood in the middle of the intersection and waited. I didn't need to hide, I had little to hide from and I was difficult to identify for all but those with the strongest magic sight. I waited still. Suddenly a wave of energy washes over me. It's sickening, headache inducing. I hear my human cry out in pain telepathically. James! He is far more magically sensitive than I, this must be blinding! "Cover me!" he shouts, and I begin scanning for opponents. Sure enough, a burly looking spirit covered head to toe in shining steel armor comes around the corner. His dead, emotionless eyes look in my direction; constantly trying to lock on to something but just slipping away.

"James, shall I draw Arondight?" I ask.

"No." I said, "We don't want to go all out quite yet. Let's leave them a little, suprise."

I feel his soulshard being relinquished to me. It swirls and solidifies, taking the form of a German zweihander. Nice, but not quite my taste. My grip tightens as I attempt to lose myself in battle. Before my concentration is complete, a bright light opens up behind me. Instantly, I whiput around 90 degrees and faced both of them, one on my left, one on my right. The newcomer is an angel, problematic but 2v1 is nothing I can't handle. She calls out to us;

"I heard a gunshot. Who are you and why are you attacking innocent people?" Her head turns to me, "Are you here to stop them?"

Before I can answer, my master begins speaking for us. I don't what was said but suddenly the angel is attacked by a large military looking man and my master joins the fray. With the angel seemingly non hostile at this point, I focus on occupying the spirit in front of me. I closed my eyes, losing myself in the din of battle. Explosions and crashing sounds rage around us, and fade as I blot out all distractions. I manipulate master's soulshard, transforming it into a leaf bladed longsword. The borders of my body erased, I am in tune with the world around me.

To the left I sense a life force go dark, and with its passing the mana of the spirit in front of me drops drastically. My chance! I take off like a bullet, attacking the spirit with a vicious overhead strike. He raises his tonfa in a defensive, cross armed stance, but my blow cleaves clean through the weakened spirits weapons, and the arms behind them. His arms severed at the fore, he staggers back; his lifeless eyes betraying no emotion even in the face of death. He closes them and looks skyward, as if to tell me to get it over with. I am about to strike, when I sense his power rising. He's going to self destruct! I summon all my strength, and Sparta kick him down the street, mere moments before detonation. The explosion illuminates the street briefly, complimenting the setting sun. A small crater is left where the spirit used to be, the fire still burning.

As I watch him burn in his own pyre, a blast of lighting hits me square in the back. I grimace in pain as the blast knocks me on my face, the electricity numbing my muscles. I get back up, my mouth tasting like copper, all in all not really worse for wear. As I turn around, a skeletal beast swings at me, fully intent on taking my head off! I parry the blow, the grim scythe leaving a chip in the blade of my sword. I could repair it, but I'll never win with this weapon. "James, I'm switching to Arondight!"

He responds grudgingly. "Alright. Let's try to make this as short as possible."

I strike at the beast and leap back, forcing some distance between us. Then, I begin to draw my true sword. The white fog disguising me swirls into my hand, condensing into a gold and silver blade almost as long as I am tall. As this work of art materializes, my disguising fog disappears. Revealing my shimmering gold and silver armor. My eyes gleam through the slit of my helm, and I grasp my sword confidently. Now the REAL battle begins.