Thanqol

Return to Thellamie

Cair!

Yeah, but, like... Heron will solve it, right?

She'll come in through a portal, be surprised for about a nanosecond, and then she'd come to the realization that she was in a target rich environment. Better than that, she had all of her options on hand - she'd be able to switch between weapons and styles freely, changing dresses from encounter to encounter, freed from the chains of having to make decisions. Heron would be everything at once, all of herselves at once, and the living dead would remember how to weep at the beauty of it.

So what was there for her to do, really...?

It was honestly something she struggled with. Heron had not asked her for anything. She wasn't oathbound to safeguard the Stacks against all intruders, she hadn't been given a mystic geas or a duty or a realm of responsibility. It felt more like Heron was letting her crash at her place, and she sometimes asked for favours in passing. And even though she'd been there for hundreds of years and made several attempts on Heron's life in the process, there didn't seem to be anything she could do to pay the Hero of Ages back. What do you get for the woman who doesn't need anyone? Kalentia had her angst at being overlooked, but Cair had been failing to find a role for herself for longer than she'd been alive.

So for now, Cair just stayed in her little crow's nest atop the Archive of Rare Currencies and watched. Maybe if she could figure out what the dead were after she might think of something to do about it that Heron would actually appreciate. No need to get involved early though.

Kalentia!

Aw shit she hates it here.

The first reason Kalentia hates the Outside is because it instantly puts her in a wedding dress. The sense of spiritual-morphic self of her that is drawn out instantly snaps into a massive bridal train and veil and white doves and not only does that make her feel neglected and pathetic but it's like maneuvering a bathtub. Yes good, let everyone see her childhood dream of being a pretty little bride, let everyone notice that there is not, in fact, a second bride anywhere to be seen, no doubt she'll earn one when she trips over her ten meter silken backwash.

She knows better than to fight the veil at this point. If she pulls it back more layers will come - the only one who'll be able to part it is her conspicuously missing betrothed. So just to be sure she waves her bouquet in front of her with each step, swinging it back and forth like a blind woman's walking stick, making sure she doesn't slam her shins into anything she can't see. All around her, the sounds and smells of the past were starting to seep in, so she trundles forwards as fast as her hoopskirt will allow.

Sunshards: Chaos Sequence

"The thing is, I know you're playing me?" said Lancer, carving away the swampy vines with the tip of her spear. "But the problem is you're also being completely honest with me. I can't work out the angle."
"Hmm," sighed Caster. He followed behind holding an electric torch, crow-cyborg cleaning its beak on his shoulder.

They were deep underground at this point. The floor was wet and metal broken apart as overgrown roots and lightless vines erupted through the paneling. Nothing should have been able to grow this deep underground, but there it was - as thick and tangled as though a rainforest was straining to burst fully formed out from the earth. Caster smiled as he heard the buzz of a mosquito, and discreetly sprayed himself with a repellent.

"So just to recap," said Lancer, ticking off on her fingers. "The Sunshard is down here, the one the foxes used to summon us all. It's trying to bore a hole into the Vault of Wishes and is absorbing the energy of slain Servants to power it. All of this," she blasted through a thick tree trunk that had erupted through the middle of the corridor, "is bleedover, coming from Archer's death as the Sunshard accumulates the energy it needs. And you think we can jump the line straight to the end, yeah?"
"That is correct," said Caster. "Sunshards are artifacts that attune, and this one is attuned to the Blessing trapped within the Vault. Empowering it with sacrificed Servants will allow it to spread its influence further and further, but that is useless to us until the seed flowers. But now that the Sunshard has awakened, we can use it as a... telephone, to bridge the gap between us and what's inside. And from there, we can draw forth its power."
"And this does not involve murdering, entrapping, cursing, or otherwise damning me to some ironic fate?" said Lancer.
"No," said Caster. "Not that I'm aware of. What's inside is a Blessing. It only wants to help."
"And it won't turn me into a fleshmonster?"
"Only if that's your wish," said Caster.
"And the reason you're not using this for yourself is..."
"Someone needs to cast the spell," said Caster. "I will allow you to access the Blessing. You use the power of it to kill the other Servants. Then I will cut off the Blessing and attempt to fight you myself once we are the only two who remain."
"You keep saying that's your angle," said Lancer. "But I don't buy it. I've got a really good eye for bullshit and deception, and while all of that's true there's something you're not telling me."
Caster sighed, but did not answer.
"Cutting off the Blessing will cause some sort of terrible side effect?"
"No," said Caster.
"You have a special technique for taking me down specifically?"
"No," said Caster. "Any martial Servant would be fine for this. I am indifferent as to who I empower, you are simply convenient."
"You have leverage against my Master and you'll have her turn on me?"
"No," said Caster. "I neither know nor care who your Master is."
"So," said Lancer, biting her knuckle, "all it comes down to is that you think you can win a one vs one fight when you couldn't win a free for all, is that it?"
"Hmm," said Caster. "Yes, that's broadly correct."
"Could you win if I attacked you right now?" said Lancer, putting her spear under his nose.
Caster glanced at her sideways. "That would leave far too much to chance. I'd flee, and try to form another alliance."
"Argh, this is going to bug me all night!" said Lancer, banging her spear against the wall. "I know I'm missing something, I just can't see it."
"Consider," said Caster, stepping into the dark and dripping computational cathedral, "the possibility that I am simply very stupid."
"What's fucked is that you believe that's true too," said Lancer, and then groaned and looked down to where she'd stepped in an over-ripe pumpkin. She hopped into the massive room, illuminated by the dull blue glow emerging from the server pillars, where it could be seen through the enveloping leaves. Every few moments there's a soft, wet impact as an apple falls from the dark vault of the ceiling and splatters upon the ground. In the center of everything, surrounded by a cascading bloom of grapes and olives, is the Sunshard - and beyond it, a massive blue-steel wall, covered in arcane glyphs.
"We are here," said Caster, sitting down next to the Sunshard. There was a little wooden chair, painted green, waiting for him there. "Have you made your decision?"
"Well, as I see it there are only two options," said Lancer. "Either you're smarter than me, or I'm smarter than you. If you're smarter than me I'm doomed either way. If it's the reverse, my only risk is psyching myself out over nothing." She grinned, "And Rome wasn't built by those afraid to cast the dice."
"Very well," said Caster. He reached into the glowing, crystalline surface of the Sunshard and pulled forth an archaic telephone - so old it was a speaking tube attached to a radio microphone. He handed it across to Lancer, who gave it one last glance and picked up the receiver.
Caster closed his eyes and began his spell.

Return to Thellamie

Sayanastia!

She actually appreciated this part. More than she thought she would.

She's been on the other end of the Hero's blank stares plenty of times. Just that silent, unhelpful focus, like she was paying attention but contributing nothing - not a conversation as much as a spotlight demanding the other person monologue. She did not know what was in the Hero's head when she did it, but in Sayanastia's was the cruelty of a cat(1) waiting for the mouse to make the first move.

Rurik, for his part, managed a Seneschal's apologetic look and vague cycle-motion of his hand, indicating that it didn't matter so long as Yuki simply got on with it.

(1)

Cats were one of the few creatures she had never taken issue with. They had been with her, after all, sleeping in the primordial void before the cursed sun had awoken them to the creation of the world. When she had raised her jaws to the sky and screamed her first scream of waking rage, her fury had been heralded by waves of felines spreading out in all directions to colonize every corner of the world. The footsteps of a cat were so soft that they could not disturb even the sensitive ears of a sleeping dragon.

Kalentia!

"Oh, save it," said Kalentia firmly(2). "This is a medical kidnapping. You of all people should know the importance of providing opposition and challenge to the understimulated, and that's all this is - got it?"

(2)

not shivering not shaking not remembering tsane's lectures on the perils and abilities of the Hero's Shadow no huge adrenaline surge at the idea that maybe she fucked up and summoned something beyond her that isn't going to buy her medical kidnapping bit and that she's actually not in control here even a little bit and it just says perilous because that's the kind of thing something like that says you can't read into it you've been in peril before nothing about this is different it's fine

Breathless Dead

Bella and Redana!

"I can prepare sedatives," said Iskarot. "Your choice of delivery mechanism - airborne, skin contact, saliva. This ship has enough residual Lethe water for me to brew a full reset for her as well. Any chemical effect you imagine I can brew - but I can't guarantee its effectiveness. Protocol for an Ikarani flying this high was always to leave the system and watch the explosions."

He took out a bulky metal slide-rule and opened a reinforced panel to reveal a thermometer; it was an ungainly brick the size of his arm, but it was meant to measure the temperature in plasma reactor cores. "Speaking of, whatever she is doing this time is drawing the ire of the God of the Sun. That's expected - an unbound Adept always progresses to the final stage of enraging Apollo, it's why we gave them the name. Temperature and disease protections are recommended."

Does he... not know that this is moonlight? It might take a moment of conferring, but it's plain: the Ancient Craftsman who contributed to the biomantic construction of the Ikarani Adepts had no idea that this buildup of energy is coming from Artemis. It's the kind of misdiagnosis that recontextualizes centuries of work - but he never had the Auspex with which to test his theories.

Dolce and Dyssia!

"The problem is the Ceronians," said Omn, the Subject Matter Expert to whom you have referred for advice. "It is the deepest part of their design. Place them in any situation and they will work to seize control and influence. They can't help themselves, they can't stop themselves, they can't be content - it's that drive that makes them the galaxy's premier warrior species despite centuries of competition. Other designers build for use cases, build for control, build for reliability - the Ceronians were built to accumulate power, endlessly, whatever it takes. In one famous incident, an entire clan - the Harem Blades - sold themselves into slavery and spent centuries working as janissary soldiers for some primitive empire. Eventually they were able to erode the empire from the inside and collapse it amidst corruption, civil war and economic collapse."

The sphere reconfigured, glowing arcs rearranging into a galactic display with orange light radiating out from a single world. "Humanity only ever maintained control over the Ceronians by limiting their numbers, only turning Ceron to full production during times of war and calamity. But that strategic lever is unavailable to us and we must recognize that the presence of Ceronians at all represents a continuously building coup against any and all authority figures."

"But this is also the key to riding this wolf in the short term, so to speak," said the machine intelligence. "The Ceronians are expanding against the Summerkind because they sense weakness and opportunity. You can redirect them in the short term by offering them richer pickings elsewhere - the Ceronians know how to play the long game when it suits them. Naturally, that will have consequences as we travel towards the Shogunate. The Pix, while similar, are more introspective and less fanatically expansionist, so they are primarily a danger when attempting to counter Ceronian power grabs."

*

You pass the first Pylon of the Endless Azure Skies

A vast diamond-shaped monolith the size of a moon. Closed black, reflective and dark, surrounded by great orbiting grav-rail loops. No windows, no entries, no spaceports.

Inside is a civilization. Five billion servitors sealed inside this massive device, forever, a perfect little bubble society designed to exist in peace and harmony forever. They have no desire to explore, learn, grow, or push the boundaries of their little world - they are there to maintain the shrines and the machines that empower the Pylon, enjoying a timeless idyll. This little space habitat will drift on forever, inner utopia blind to all war or calamity unless it should somehow breach those massive walls.

It is the first Pylon in a network growing into the thousands. In the distance more and more of them are visible. In order to perform the great working of the Endless Azure Skies, gravity must be bought to heel on a level unimaginable and unprecedented. These Pylons are the ring-fence that will hold together the Skies, the monumental effort required for mortals to reshape the laws of physics into more beautiful forms.

Sunshards: Chaos Sequence

Caster stood atop the wreckage. The quadruped robot beside him shifted and whirred, sniper rifle flicking its lenses. It was time to put an end to all of this, once and for all.

"You appear to be stepping into my domain," said Assassin mildly, putting one steadying hand on the barrel. "And I do not think you have the talent for it."
"Cardinal," said Caster, bowing his head slightly. The machine whirred as it pushed against Assassin's hand, trying to re-acquire its target. "Is this a request for a ceasefire or a demand for payment?"
"It is funny you should ask," said Assassin. "Because it seems like my Master has done everything she could to rebel against yours. She intimated the shape of your plan, and then went ahead and placed her body next to the target - and close enough to one I am forbidden from allowing to be harmed."
"And how many Command Seals does she have left?" asked Caster.
"One," shrugged Assassin. "And is quick enough on the draw to have me turn my blade upon myself, should I turn on her. You see my conundrum."
Assassin then waited politely for Caster to consider if he could kill him. He didn't begrudge him; it would solve a lot of problems for the old man to kill him, kill Rider's master, and wipe out almost all of the remaining Servants with the fury of her arrival. It honestly hurt Assassin too, knowing that he was standing in the way of such an elegant resolution to everybody's problems.
"We shall have to do this the hard way," sighed Caster. "Very well. Actia wants a longer leash, let her have it. My Master will yank it short when the time is right."
"And I have until then to kill you and replace you at your Master's right hand," demurred Assassin.
"As you say," said the old man. "Though you might find the competition for that position growing increasingly fierce as time goes on."

Return to Thellamie

Sayanastia!

It would feel so good to curse these children.

She loved curses; spitting one was like crunching through the shell of a watermelon on a hot day - but that description itself was everything that was wrong with her. She was not meant to appreciate hot days, or the feeling of her teeth in her mouth, or the thrill of strength rewarded. How could she wish a twisted, corrupting harm on these fools when an idea so warm and lazy was drifting through her head? She was meant to remember the cathartic energy of her joints cracking and her scales flaring and breaking a nervous little smile into the wail of a condemned ghost. She should see the tainted spirit wander free to spread her misery, until...

Until. Her lips twitched in a bitter smile. Until someone rescued them. Until the Hero - or maybe a close friend or lover - braved the knife-hair and the shadowflame and reached out to the trapped soul of the corrupted one. They would drag it free, cleanse it, and nurse it slowly back to health until the victim was restored. And then what became of the rage that had ignited the curse in the first place? Perhaps it did not return to her, and she became less until she was what she was now. Or perhaps it returned to her, confused with the memory of kindness and warmth, until that confusion seeped into her very bones.

"The Hero of Ages is concerned with the stability of the Realm and the welfare of the Faun," said Rurik. "If those who seek to tame him prove unworthy, she may take it upon herself to tame them."

The world had a way of progressing before she had decided. She might work up the energy to make Rurik into a tin soldier and these travelers into bat-winged vampiresses but by the time she'd built the willpower to do that the initial moment of potential had faded into the past and the action would be... inelegant. Elegant. Another concept that had scratched its way inside her head somehow. Somehow doing something beautifully had become almost as important as doing it at all. Maybe it hadn't been losing to Heron in those blood-soaked exhausting battles of endurance that had changed her, maybe it had been the concept-shaking tilt that had come with losing to someone who had done it while looking better than she ever had.

"Seneschal," she said quietly.

"Yes, Lady!" said Rurik. "Now, if you can swallow your rudeness for a moment, the Hero of Ages did not ask for your professions or political opinions. She asked for your stories. Provide them, or this meeting is at an end."

Kalentia!

There was a right and a wrong way to do this.

One of the paths involves patient discussion, the careful and mutual development of goals, the careful management of related symptoms leading into a gradual re-introduction to society. First contact theory, manapoisoning protocols, keeping the patient firmly inside her care until holistic health was guaranteed...

But Kalentia Pious had not gotten into the white mage business because she was into medicine.

One of the most controversial spells in the arsenal of light was the Mark. A Taunt effect was one which enraged a specific monster, making them prioritize you above all other targets - this was one commonly wielded by Civil Paladins amongst others. The Mark was an inversion of that; a glyph drawn on the body that made you the target for any ill fortune that might befall a region. Some in the Civil Clergy regarded it as tantamount to black magic, a dangerous curse to applied to the unwilling, sometimes even used as a punishment for crimes. Some regarded it as a more efficient Taunt, something to be used on oneself so that they might suffer what others would otherwise befall others. Others still regarded it as a corrupting influence - not redirecting danger but creating it outright, and every use played into the agenda of the Fallen Stars.

It is not considered a safe spell, then, to use on yourself to expedite your own kidnapping. But... you know... you can't just go around hoping to get kidnapped. Some girls spend their entire lives hoping that some monster will wing down from the sky and scoop them up and carry them away to their wicked lair, until they are rescued/joined by their True Love.

Kalentia had spent a lot of her life hoping.

But now she finally had someone hoping in the same direction.

[Call upon a toxic power: 11]

Sunshards: Chaos Sequence

The blade descends.

Through whistling air it falls. Through rock and stone it falls. Through brick and mortar it... falls? Finally it carves through the last of the solid stone wall where it cuts the eyebrow of a trembling, frozen Actia who looks at the drop of blood running down her face to her hand, decides she's been brave enough for one day, and faints.

"Stop!" said Katherine Isabella Fluffybiscuits. "I - oh I'm sorry, I know you're supposed to yell stop first, but you're so scary fast I couldn't take chances -"

Berserker crashes into place defensively in front of her, black-red battledress flaring. A line runs along through the chamber floor up to Actia's body, where a miniature castle wall has erupted from the ground to intercept Avenger's falling blade. Berserker snarls, and all the moreso when Katherine tries to get in front of her again.

"Stop it Berserker -- and stop it Saber!" she cries. "This isn't like you! All of this... blood and mess and scariness, and not even in a good way! I know we only met for less than a minute, and Cyanis always says I'm a terrible judge of character, but this isn't like you! Because - because the vibes suck! The vibes are awful and terrible and wrong, and I don't know how else to put it, but they've been wrong for ages and they were wrong with Actia before and now they're super double wrong with you, and everyone's being such an edgelord and nobody at all is thinking about all those poor people who lost electricity because the Shrine Giant decided to shoot lasers everywhere! Did you think about that!? Huh!?!"

She's really getting into the flow of this now, stomping her feet and slamming her fist into her open palm, and generally making a really good case for being Berserker's master.

"And now you've got all these people who need medical attention and I'm going to have to tell Cyanis that the big evil castle ate her artillery angel and I don't know how to do that without telling her she deserves it for not going in alongside him, so she's going to sulk - and that's another thing I have to deal with!" said Kat. "Because if she's sulking she's not going to help me save the world! And I didn't even get a cool swordfighting dress or a wolfgirl girlfriend to help me! All I've got is all these old people acting like they know everything! So TELL you WHAT grandma!!" Katherine Isabella Fluffybiscuits drew her sword with the vicious lack of care of someone who had never been trained in a sword. Being within arms reach of her, as Avenger is at this point, is a legitimately terrifying thing because there is absolutely zero control there. She could stab herself. She could stab her servant. She could stab Avenger, through every block and guard, with the chaotic talent of a pissed-off novice. "FIX your FLUFFING VIBES! Get your ACT together!" Berserker actually needed to shoulder-check her to keep her away from pulling off the rare double decapitation maneuver. "I DO NOT FEEL SAFE AND ENTHUSIASTICALLY CONSENSUAL ABOUT THE DIRECTION THIS PRINCESS FIGHT IS TAKING!" screams Katherine Isabella Fluffybiscuits.

Breathless Dead

For the turn that this is about to take you might think that you are being punished for your happiness.

If you did, you would be right.

*

Feet of sharpened bone crack crystal lattice underneath. Torn and bloody silks writhe and peel from the walls like eucalyptus bark. Every few steps a shadow flashes across the light, there is the sound of a scream, a crack, and a crunch. Watery blood spills across the pure sea water that covers the floor, and the robed Tidal bureaucrat crumples to the ground in a rubbery heap. From their corpses bubble riotous growth, the bloom of Demeter's garden seeds as groves of bioluminescent coral expand across the dying mind of the Sunshark.

A sunshark is not an individual thing; it is a nation, an ecosystem, an organization. Even in the days where Hades' realm offered the tantalizing possibility of escape these things were immortal for they were the greatest of Demeter's children. Even when the field is ploughed the growing climate remains the same.

And so Liquid Bronze moves through the wreckage of the Leviathan. In his wake comes his robed legion of Biomancers, and their endless swarm of drones. They set about the rituals required to asset-strip and repurpose the fading starbeast. From its bone marrow it begins to drip battlecrabs by the tens of thousands, its heart is surgically implanted with the Cancellation's salvaged engine, and the great cathedral to Poseidon in the Sunshark's throat crawls with drones that scratch at the mortar and carry away loosened stones.

The hunt will resume. No matter the cost.

*

Bella and Redana!

The corridors are filled with moonlight.

Moonlight is, in the end, just sunlight. The same kind of sunlight that'll burn the wings right off a girl who flies too close to the realm of the Gods. Someone down here had the bright idea to play the gods off against each other so hard that it momentarily broke time and now it's getting bright - and it's getting hot. In your Auspexes you can feel the Eclipse coming - and with it a time of disaster. All the delicate balances that go into keeping a ship alive are starting to come down.

You got lucky with Vesper last time. Her plan worked. Everyone was saved. Everything came right in the end.

She's going to roll those dice again. She can't help herself. Not when she's like this. Bigger and better. Double or nothing.

Iskarot is here with you, back in his familiar rubber-yellow robe, carrying a heavy medical case. He cautiously stays in between each of you; your auspexes together, the two Eyes of Hermes, together representing more awareness than he could possibly have on his own.

Dolce and Dyssia!

You have stolen an army. In some ways this is easier than it might sound.

Imagine that you have stolen a fighter jet. Being expected to operate from an airbase, it does not have a lock or car-alarm or any other top level security features. You can simply hop in and start flying - if you know how, and if you can keep up with the punishingly elaborate maintenance routines required for sustained operations. The Summerkind are not drones, to swarm with perfect obedience, who are always at risk of being redirected by another Biomancer - they are a full Servitor species designed for full integration with the military of the Endless Azure Skies at a moment's notice.

You have one Biomancer deeply familiar with the design and operation of the Summerkind, you have Dyssia - an Administrator Species, and the only one on board other than the Ceronian's magos prisoner. This is enough to ensure that you, Dyssia, are personally in charge of this entire ship. That much is not in question.

What is in question is how you're going to keep it together. This is the hard part.

Even the Publica does not deploy different battle servitor species alongside each other because of the catastrophic levels of competition it creates. The Pix and the Ceronians were already feuding, but the presence of the Summerkind destabilizes that already delicate balance. The Ceronians are using their own pet Azura as a political center to start making Summerkind loyal to them, the Pix are beginning to intervene to stop this happening, what senior Summerkind there are are desperately trying to figure out what's going on and why, and even if your personal presence can calm down flashpoints it's a big ship and you can't keep the wolf away from the rabbit and the rabbit away from the lettuce at the same time. Put three Servitors species in a closed environment and there's going to be a war.

(And that's not even taking into account that territory is cramped due to the Tidal infestation on the lower decks, which is becoming increasingly violent and agitated for some reason, and that the ship's general crew is resort planet Servitors and not a true voidbreed).

This is a crisis point. Give it your best, and know that it might not be enough.

Return to Thellamie

Rurik!

"Announcing: The Hero of Ages, Princess Heron Tiserian!"

Announcing and speaking on behalf of the Hero was his most comfortable role. He let his voice roll, his chest and enunciation conveying the full weight of awe that should be accorded to the Hero of Ages... which was almost as fitting an announcement style for Sayanastia the Dark Dragon.

He wondered at himself. Announcing for the Dark Dragon, disguised as Heron - that felt like something more suitable for a... for a Henchman than a Handmaid. Half his career was about lending his voice and his skill to the lie, but there was the good, honest lie that gave the Princess room to maneuver freely, and this lie which, well... Perhaps it was most frightening that it didn't take him that much more effort to do. Being an evil butler did not seem such a very long step from being a butler, if you were confused at all. Best clear his mind of that confusion: this was his duty, and the irony was for poets to appreciate.

"Seneschal," said Sayanastia-as-Heron. Immediately, he thought: she didn't get it right. "Ask them their stories."

Reluctantly, he thought:

Reluctantly, he thought: But she got it better than right. Injimo got the physicality and mannerisms perfect, Tsane the burning energy, Cair the slouching deviousness, but Sayanastia bought something deeper to the role. She bought the presence of the Hero, the full mythical reputation, the otherworldly air. Everything she did felt like it was happening in a dream, from how she was reflected in every pool of water in the rain-soaked grass regardless of the angle of the light, how the moonlight landed on her hair and caught it up in an ethereal breeze, how her armour and weapon seemed simple, practical, travel-worn - but you could almost hear their names if you looked at them. It wasn't like being in the presence of Heron, for all her colour and energy and glory, it was like being in a painting of Heron - a moment perfectly sculpted.

"The Noble Hero of Ages invites you to partake of the bounty of the Food Bag, and share with us the tale that has bought you to this place so far from home," said Rurik, almost totally recovering from his little moment. "And further, my grandaughter Tsane, who sits alongside, has a particular interest in any rare or mythical animals you may have encountered on your way."

Cair!

What, tell people? That the Architect-Knight is loose in the stacks? Should she also tell them that the Mercury Golem is loose?

As far as she's concerned, the Architect-Knight lives there, just as much as Cair does. As much as the Hero's Shadow does, or the Acid Cube, or the Centaur, or - or even the Dark Dragon herself apparently, these days. Of course some of the more normie-inclined Handmaidens might not like the idea of the Hero's Sanctuary being filled with dozens of roving monsters of previous eras, which is all the more reason to shelter their precious little sensibilities[1].

[1] Or in Injimo's case, sheltering from her potential to go around getting in fights with everything that ever once put a mark on the Hero, that she might absorb their energy.

Pretty much the only creature she would have raised the alarm for was seeing the Dark Dragon herself, but even that time has passed. Now she wouldn't mention it even if she saw a Fallen Star down here. It wouldn't be neighbourly.

Sunshards: Chaos Sequence

It clearly hurt her. Her legs bent, her fingers flexed, reflexive tears formed in the corners of her eyes. But all she reached for was her necktie, which she straightened, and then with trembling fingers, her sunglasses, which she wore.

"Yes," she said. "Go ahead, Ivar. Rage. Weep. Break the world. Break me. Like I said, that is your privilege." She folded her empty hands across her chest, fingers digging into her arms. "Punish the villainess as she deserves to be punished. That too is your right. I'll make it easy for you. You and your master were inconsequential stepping stones to my true objective, which was the destruction of this world and the ruination of all. Your vicious flailing would seem but the wrath of a child compared to the vast, systematic and total destruction that will occur when my plan comes to fruition - and it will. I could not have risked myself here if anything that happened here had even the slightest chance of influencing the outcome that I have already set in motion."

She bit her lip to stop it trembling. "Go ahead. Make me regret my actions. Make me regret my words. Make me regret thinking that a giant, an angel and a bullet through the heart would be enough. Show me again that there is no despair I could leave you in that will stop you coming after me."