/hisrol/
Bloodline Fever: Supersanctification
Black Opal-d2454a BLOP
Bloodline Fever: Supersanctification
The first Great Collapse. 7 years ago, in downtown New York City, a portal opened connecting to another world, the realm of the Beyond. After an intense flash, the city was plunged into darkness. In one night, New York was engulfed, destroyed, and rebuilt by the effects of the catastrophic connection to the other world.

From that other world emerged the beings of the Beyond, the "másallíneos," creatures mostly of indescribable origin and aberrant appearance. A massive number of them invaded the newly taken New York, many "másallíneos" transformed the city to their will, others obeyed their shapeless nature and generated violence, and finally, a large number survived the chaotic state that was the Jerusalem Plot.

The Jerusalem Plot was the name given to New York City, once the portal's fog was contained within a barrier. That limiter was born from the portal itself and contained the expansion of the other world onto Earth. It was in this environment that, day after day, newly conceived demons emerged from the contact between the worlds, a type of all-powerful and sentient existence that, after grouping together, became known as the Thirteen Kings. Thus, for two months, through the actions of the self-proclaimed rulers and the active protection of an enormous divine curse in the form of a maritime entity, the American government lost control over one of its most important cities.

Demigods, powerful beings born from the portal of the Beyond, pressured from the interior and exterior of the barrier to create an opening for dialogue in the Jerusalem Plot. Shortly after those two months of uncertainty surrounding all of New York, an official contact was made between the American Nation and the Abstract Realm of the Beyond, a conciliation. Under the Chrysler-Galadona treaty, the conflict with the forces of the incomprehensible was resolved, the sovereignty of the Thirteen Kings was dismissed, the shared state of New Jerusalem was created, and the foundations were laid for "másallíneo" and human coexistence. The barrier dissolved, forming a vortex of amalgamated fog, thus the name New Jerusalem was born.

The city of New Jerusalem originated as a combination of characteristics between the human world and the Beyond. Half of the humans engulfed by the portal reappeared miraculously in the new city, while the other half would appear periodically 3 years later. The beings of the Beyond assimilated the human way of life in the city as a rule to ensure their stay. In this way, a strange daily life emerged involving humans and monsters beyond comprehension. By integrating into the new nation, the "másallíneos" eventually gained citizenship rights and a moderately decent reputation.
Every day, and in cooperation with the new and abstract intelligent beings, the human world recovered from that great imbalance. Although within New Jerusalem, the forces of the chaotic and the absurd remained active, attacking the city in unexpected and desperate ways. Even so, entities from the human esoteric world such as the Spiritual League and other organizations managed to keep the madness of the other world at bay and provided stability to the fantastic and grotesque city for three years. This was until, after a succession of unfortunate events, such as an arcane threatening factor, an overload of effort on human hope, the release of various unknowable powers from the Beyond, and a thirst for demonic self-discovery, a massive and catastrophic second Great Collapse was gestated almost by pure chance.

The second Great Collapse. 4 years ago, south of Manhattan Island, on the artificial island Pandora, known as the base of the Asylum Pandorum prison, a portal to a new dimension opened. Distinct from the Beyond and the human world in its entirety, the dimension with which contact was made was of such an incompatible degree that, a millionth of a second after the connection to the other world was established, the portal closed, unleashing an energy charge so potent that it destabilized the mystical infrastructure of New Jerusalem.

Capable of foreseeing the future, the invisible curse at the edge of the city, a high-degree enigma from the Beyond, used the force of a divine contract to keep the imminent deformation at bay, but it was not enough. For 20 seconds, the city was enveloped in complete calm, until in an instant, all of New Jerusalem was divided in two. Each part of New Jerusalem immediately replicated, thus giving the vision of two parallel cities, seen as through the edge of a mirror. That scenario was witnessed for only a few seconds until the city underwent the same partitioning phenomenon again and again, at increasingly smaller intervals of time. Exponentially, fractal chaos took over the city, duplicating dimensions, dividing time, and brushing against the abstract limits of what is permissible in reality.

The emergency gave rise to a new type of barrier against the mystical fog, of infinite extent, total light absorption, and intangible. This and other feats by the Spiritual League and other organizations, such as rescuing the vast majority of living creatures in New Jerusalem, provided relief in recovering the city or preventing a greater tragedy that would this time fall upon the world. Even so, it was during this short period of infinite barriers that the city was considered lost. Fractional Nod, an abstract wasteland of wandering march that only concentrated disaster.

Miraculously, almost a month after the Second Collapse, the fundamental constants returned to their initial values and the city was rebuilt. This time giving rise to the Sacred Land of Nod, a double parallel city composed of Nod Thrillfair and Nod Issel-Sarexuglactrella. The new city encompasses duality and the indistinct within the identical. It is from this land that the world still feels the effects of chaos, for better or for worse, recovering millions of humans, or having to deal with infinite races from Others, other worlds, and time.
No.1367
Black Opal-d2454a BLOP
No.1413
Black Opal-d2454a BLOP
>>1413
>The tentacular curse found in the sea seems to be the determinant of such power even over demons, an unknown being from the Beyond, but all pointed to it being rather a set of unknowable states and contracts. The barrier interpreted that you wanted to cross it and immediately a stinger pierced your right arm. It did not perform the steps of completing certain acceleration and force to penetrate your avatar, similar to the functioning of instant appearance and churches; the barrier's curse only manifested its main attack tool to make you bleed, surpassing even Hannah's transposition which only generates push.

1 year and 1 week ago
>Batenkaitos has a particular partner, one who has been working with him for 2 years; it is a being from the Beyond that emerged relatively recently, after the Second Collapse. Doxiagropolobitucus Beroge Al-Kirateheregsa is a high-ranking being from the Beyond, not a demigod like Batenkaitos, though he considers it a highly intelligent creature of fortune and power. The truth is that the Baron himself considers Beroge Al not to be in conditions to become a demigod given his "compassion." Who ignores the disaster from 4 years ago, and who is partially alien to his aggressive nature, Beroge has already known you and has spoken with you on a couple of occasions. His appearance is that of a kind of abstract and fleshy coffin that holds three pairs of protruding hands and a strange skull in its central part. When it comes to deals and business, he shows himself almost as aggressive and dominant as Von Batenkaitos could, but you discovered his true nature as soon as he kindly and secretly notified you of the food and snacks you exceeded in that meeting. Despite what Batenkaitos may appreciate in said partner, he rarely accepts interacting with him outside of work. Apparently, it was Al-Kirateheregsa who surprised Batenkaitos after u0fd7e2232160065b5f4bf495f1ceac1fd701d2c942da3697cdceebead4bce46d.jpga strange declaration and an invitation that hardly corresponded to his free time. Batenkaitos was so angry that he simply left you to take care of the "human" aspects that he understands nothing and hates even when it comes to close creatures. The place is one of great peace. The girl reacts innocently.
(-) I-I didn't expect... That the wife of Mr. Von Batenkaitos was a human!, and not only that, but also a very beautiful woman... (...) My name is Sally. Would you like to tell me one of your stories?
>She was surprised; she offered brief glances at your face before eventually growing accustomed to staring at you continuously. You could feel her gaze focusing on what she describes as hair the color of a fogless sky. If she is observing your hair because she no longer has her own, you cannot know, for despite her condition, Sally visualizes herself as a rather spirited young girl. The 14-year-old human suffers from leukemia, among other medical conditions you could not recall word-for-word even if Al-Kirateheregsa repeated them to you continuously. Sally waits for you to share something in this internal park; she is able to see you with a sparkle in her eyes that almost mimics Bagoriceny's when she is full of illusions. Of course, the color of her eyes is different, and the atmosphere is not a warm home. Though tranquil, the internal park of Saint Epnion Hospital is a bypass for the passage of other patients, nurses, and doctors who abound in this place. Beings from the Beyond do not abound in this zone, which should be designated for fewer beyond-treatments and more conventional ones. This does not prevent Doxiagrapolobitucus from dragging himself at a constant rhythm while pushing the wheelchair, even though it was mentioned.
(Sally) Lord Doxia once told me that every creature has a special light within itself. I think your light must be very bright, Miss Bagdeleyne; I am glad we have been able to meet.
>She smiles radiantly. For Sally, the Being from the Beyond functions as a kind of benefactor, though you might suspect that their relationship is almost as close as that between the Baron and his daughter Bagoriceny. You do not know the details, but according to scattered data from the Baron, it happens that Doxiagropolobitucus has always been in contact with a "decadent" community of humans whom he should observe as inferior. Your husband considers a sick Being from the Beyond to be a weak one; probably that feeling is amplified when it concerns humans. Eventually, the Being from the Beyond's journey with the wheelchair becomes slower. Though he does not stop, you can understand that he does so to speak with you outside the interactions you have with Sally. Doxuagropolobitucus declares.
(Doxiagropolobitucus) My life will end in just 1591 years. Bagdeleyne, Sally's fate is about to change. The Vatican is preparing a series of rituals and advanced techniques to ensure her cure. In exchange for a fraction of my short lifespan, she will enjoy excellent health for several centuries.
(Sally) …
>You felt a quick shift in Sally's eyes; she suddenly returned her gaze to the flowers lining the path. It is evident that the human has no defined reaction to the Being from the Beyond's decision. It is true that the creature from the Beyond is also making an extremely eccentric decision. Though known, the Vatican is an organization almost as unknown to the public as the Spiritual League within Nod could be.
No.1414
Legrandite-29ef3c Anonymous
>>1414
>At first glance, 1500 years of life seem like an eternity compared to human lifespans, but this being from the Beyond is likely a long-lived species that has already reached a critical age. You finally understand that "useless sacrifice" Batenkaitos of Doxia mentioned. After returning to speak with you, Sally comments and then asks. Her nervous laughter gained confidence in a second.
(Doxiagropolobitucus) Batenkaitos would never have understood my decision, even if he were replacing you in time and space. But perhaps you can end his confusion.
(Sally) Batenkaitos… That name sounds like a superhero to me. According to Mr. Doxia, he's someone to admire and possesses great power. B-bagdeleyne, do you also have some kind of special abilities, or are you just really good at helping others?
1 year ago, continuation
>The sting vanished; in fact, you found no other trace of Nod's barrier curse anywhere. Before you, Hannah Cade Andronicus was still flying, but discreetly retreating, tilting her sword. Beneath the two of you lay a full sea, yet it did not split in two nor appear duplicated. You could observe the manifestation of Doxiagropolobitucus as if a light had instantly constructed it. Unlike you knowing him, he does not know you, because the appearance of Doziagropolobitucus as Batenkaitos's partner occurred when Batenkaitos had Bagdeleyne as his wife, with contained Despair. Nor does it seem he detected you by your similar appearance or essence; he is simply orbiting the battle with a clear allegiance to the nun's side. To your left, after observing the reconstruction of Doxiagropolobitucus, you realized what had happened: a wall of fog separated the outside from the inside. You were at the immediate edge of the city of Nod, but on the outside. Half a second before you could react, a creature materialized, dripping horizontally from the very dome. This one-eyed humanoid wearing a hat interposed itself between Andronicus and you, and he immediately exclaimed.86f695f5747bd90030b474d7c9e96ad3942108e3dcf3f11c589f351491fa4c4a.jpg
(-) Officially! You are officially the first Demon to cross the Nod/Jerusalem barrier in 4 years. Congratulations! I'm LeSueur, I specialize in boundaries and restrictions. Maybe you've encountered some of my rules in the past… The important thing is: it's the Vatican that's trying to attack you
>It is an enigma, for only an enigma can cross the barrier with such ease. The Spiritual League is tasked with bringing enigmas back to the city of Nod daily. If it is true that the nun is part of a group like GEMINI, it is rare for this creature to have data on them. For now, though strange, it seems to be a neutral-type being. The limits and laws mentioned as irregular have been a strange constant, so it is safe to say that, just as you identify Doxiagropolobitucus in a single direction, Lesueur identifies you in the same way. He confirms what you could already infer from Doxiagropolobitucus's collaboration in the battle and the notable passion with which Hannah recounts it. That way of provoking your appearance by overcoming Bagdeleyne was not of the artistic type like the one that once made you present Neth. They left subliminal messages all the time for you to be conscious of terrifying acts happening in the past and currently. The church, according to other demons, acts in a precise but uncomfortable way, and are generally a great nuisance.
(LeSueur) It seems that pulling you out of Nod's barrier is part of their purification plan! Strange, isn't it?
(Hannah) Lucy…
>She whispered. Hannah moved her sword centimeter by centimeter, then millimeter by millimeter, toward her right hand. The enigma before you partially blocked your view of this fact, perhaps intentionally. The fact is that she is about to use her divine weapon. Hannah Cade suddenly raises her sword and a scythe-like beam of light manifests geometrically from the sky, like lightning; the flash grows, forming roots that connect directly to her weapon. Invisible bells resonate overhead as the nun's habit flutters in the wind. Slowly, her attire visibly transforms. A red cloak emerges in place of her veil, and a golden crown manifests above her blonde hair. The appearance she demonstrates before you is no longer that of a nun, but of a holy king floating in stillness. Her black sword, fully controlled by her palm, points diagonally toward the barrier as Hannah Cade opens her eyes.
(Hannah) Oh, Divine Creator! Let me be the instrument of your justice, the bastion of your power! (...) My faith is now one with your will. From this moment of calm arises an invincible force, a fortress that nothing in this world can topple.
No.1417
Legrandite-29ef3c Anonymous
>>1417
She dismantled her face muscle by muscle; a visitor took the proverb to heart that God helps those who wake early, and just before the wall clock scratched eleven, a congregation arrived at her door. Lala keeps her own set of keys, and the housewife is so socially inept and repulsive that her friendships boil down to people who, for one reason or another, are forced to interact with her; a stranger at such an hour is rare. Cautiously, she loosened a bolt and cracked the gate open, poking her nose through the narrow gap between door and door.

She presented herself as a Gemini government agent, trailing him to put an end to his future.

"Would... would you like some lemonade?" Modesty escorted by a stuttering: "Y-you can't prove I've evaded taxes, the IRS won't tear a single dollar from me without first watering it with blood!" followed by a sharp slam of the door.

Her voice trembled like a bush in a mid-storm. What is that 16% theft on the impossible base and property tax duties? For heaven's sake, not even imagination and its beings escape taxation.

Justifying the unjustifiable, the housewife twisted the whole picture, misinterpreting Gemini as a government body that would "ruin her future" by summoning her for a tax audit. As soon as she fell into the first church, she began to realize that neither Geminis nor the nun were after money; they wanted to harm her, and in the worst-case scenario... Bagori.

She sat on her knees and elbows to spring up and stand, stumbling her way out the front door of the church. So fast her fingertips grabbed the doorknob; another church waited on the other side, and another, and another, and another, and another. She was a hamster in a marathonic loop. In her eyes, tears hardened, thinking her baby was left adrift and asleep in his room. What would they do to him? What would happen to him? Sooner or later, she stumbled on the initial steps of the cathedrals, mutualizing them, thus burdening her fears with an unbearable weight.

At some point, without realizing it, Desperation was snatched from the imaginary resort where she had been locked away, and she woke up wet, her cheeks swollen with tears. She squinted, gradually distinguishing a 7228d78dd03be5b8d0af6ba50364ccdec939a9f66adec526b89b00580ace1f27.jpgjet-black cross on her left and a bruised X on her right, slicing her contact lenses into four. Contrary to a graceful impulse, she stretched out meekly and calmly.

"Why do I smell like... old?"

Once she took her time, a crater opened where she had been; in the next second, the convent's roof tiles tore apart, shattering in waves of rubble and dust, propelling her outward in a leap.

A thousand meters above sea level, she confronted her opponent, wearing an ecclesiastical habit on her body and devotional words on her lips.

<Hannah
>How much longer, Lord? How much longer will this barrier hold before it crumbles under the weight of evil?
"Why don't you ask him in person?" The distance separating them minimized them to fleas in mid-flight; he didn't care, dragging a thumb across his neck to exemplify his point: "You're one cut away from the big guy."

The nun surfs the air riding a pitch-black matte leaf so exquisite it reminded her she was participating helplessly in his game, with not a single weapon worth mentioning in sight.

To the East, she bears a distant aerial view of Thrillfair, an architectural sketch growing more and more remote, blurred by the encircling mist. To the West, a smoggy and relentless sun licked her skin, tinting the clouds pale pink and faded blue. She enjoyed it for a moment, squinting her eyes and tilting her body toward it, with the difficulty of a parachutist maneuvering mid-flight. Two blinks later, she remembered why she always comes out at night: that obese, diabetic, hydrogen-addicted thing called the sun is vomit-inducing—too little light for so much fire, too little fire for so much light.

Don't even get me started on the moon. I don't know what humanity is waiting for to nuclear-bomb that quarter-worldly, orb-like cesspool.

<Hannah
>Divine light condemns you, demon. This cold, dense fog is impregnated with the sacred essence of the Beyond, present in every corner of this accursed city.

"Blessed city," she corrects, getting lost in another church she rips through body and soul like a Hulk Hogan hug: "Hey, good monkie, I offer you a 50% off deal! You stop pulling churches out of nowhere where divine light doesn't reach, and I do whatever the hell I want. Productive, right?"

Taking her persistent confinement as a resounding no, for the twenty-eighth time she shatters a mosaic in honor of St. Cecilio and punches through a few plaster idols. She emerges dusted in white talc from her religious exodus. After passing over a hundred cathedrals, the storm of faith subsides, clearing her visual field for the little nun and a new member of the evangelical program.

From faith to hope is a step, brief but decisive. And Doxian, for better or worse, is at her just quota of harvest, halfway between hope and the precipice of it.

The pornographic number of convents closes with a basilica on a relevant scale, replacing it in space, a snack for the approach to the mythical barrier—the frontier that isolates the supernatural and deformed from the mundane and uniform.

<Hannah
>May every drop of blood spilled in this place turn into a new brick in the walls that confine you! May every sigh become a prayer that seals the gates of hell!

The fire in her eyes dimmed to embers; she bit the hook, caught in the jaws of the fog, stimulating the barrier's restrictions. Automatically, needles pricked her biceps from side to side, with no momentum or inertia; the enigma of the Beyond guarded her escape from the fog dome. The pain etched itself into the hemispheres of her face, a facial contraction that swallowed her arrogant little smile.
No.1419
Legrandite-29ef3c Anonymous
>>1419
"seven times damned daughter of your reputation-" he swallowed his words, ran a finger through the blood, thick and warm, and continued "believe it or not, I'll dress in your skin, little nun"

He took it to heart, this was personal. The affliction wasn't in the flesh, but in the pride, the shame of falling into the trap of an abject and pathetic creature. His shattered pride hurts more than dying a thousand times on a pike.

<One week prior: Lunatic fable.
A copious feast was being served on a children's table, a cornucopia overflowing. The dishes stood out for their variety, not quantity, quality>quantity, a reliable motto of a cook. Batenkaitos informed them of the circumstances that led to the gathering, preparing more human snacks, nothing macabre: nut porridge in individual bowls, rustic and dense breads, mass-produced sugary candies soaked in liquor, multiple mini lemon pies, meat pastries, and starring the aforementioned, a golden pineapple-glazed ham. Simplicity dresses in gala, elegance disguises itself as modesty; human cuisine isn't fond of their menu, though that doesn't exclude the challenge of turning plebeian ingredients into delicacies worthy of children's palates.

♡: I-i swear the gastronomic description is vital for the survival of the sandwich-time continuum!

Unaware of the food, three individuals strolled in the inner plaza of a clinic. The first was the colleague of her husband, Doxiagrobo—ah, let's just call him the good Doxia. The second was a bundled-up girl in wool, slowly being pushed forward in her wheelchair by the aforementioned.

The housewife inspected the girl. Her gaze briefly lingered on the absence of her hair, the thinness of her wrists, her bony and angular features. In that fragile, sickly skin that revealed the relief of her interior like a map of thick blue veins. Suddenly, she surprised her by speaking, a surprise that grew in weight as she praised her appearance. Was she pretty? According to some, six years ago her look was the living image of an unattractive Asian, I think I hinted at it with Kim Yo-jong, canonically the monkey is a ugly Chinese kek, but: it was her mastery of cosmetics that took her from an irreversible 2/10 to a solid 8.5/10 (according to her and based on her). Not even her eyes were blue; practically her irises were usurped by two cuts of black and purple stationed on the sclera.

<Sally
>I-I didn't expect... that the wife of Mr. Von Batenkaitos would be a human! And not just that, but also a very beautiful woman...6316e10075cfd28a76b59acb3d4e3719ecfb0436e15c435f6e8bbe7297a5b431.jpg

A cloying giggle escaped her, fanning a hand in a modest gesture of 'it's nothing special'

"hehe~ I guess he has good taste in women and friends"
I draft the last part while glancing at Doxia for a second.

<Sally
>My name is Sally. Would you like to tell me one of your stories?

"Joo~"

I theatrically hide a sigh. She uncovered her hand from her mouth and replied.

"Let me think, let me think, my life is super boring," she said, twirling a lock of hair around her ring finger. "Have you heard of Jason and the Argonauts? I haven't, but I read on the internet that it's pretty close."

Acting as a narrator, this story goes back to the time when the three-year-old bagori wouldn't go to bed if lala or she didn't tell her a fairy tale first.

"The fable is titled: Iax, the Lunatic. Someday, plagiarized and directed by Tim Burton."

https://youtu.be/6AtnDNLfEr4?si=Esh9CIy2nVPt6FNoThis one, in particular, she pulled from an orboide based on a famished bard from the Middle Ages somewhere on the interweb, four or maybe five years ago. That night, she couldn't tell if bagory hated it or loved it; before the childish ending, she was already dozing off, curled up against his chest.

"Long ago and far away, with all evils running rampant and creation still in diapers. Iax, of the first men, wandered the earth, alone and in love with the lunatic wanderer in the firmament. The moon was his world, his dogma, his scourge. Shining on his silver throne, he desired her with a ferocity only capable of by neolithic vermin. He would offer eternal servitude to the first who fulfilled his infantile whim.

In response, the wind brought the smell of something nauseating, of rotting flesh and rancid milk.
One day, one night, one yesterday. At a spark, the first man took refuge by the fire. Where three attentive beings cornered him, ready to strike a deal.

A meddling enigma heard his wish and recommended: 'Prepare him cocoa, petunias, and a thousand heads of the unborn; the most egocentric of the egocentric will never resist such a lavish gift.'

A rogue demon heard his wish and advised: 'Steal her name.' If you strip her of her name, you strip her of her identity. The bond between the thief and the robbed is carved in blood and eternity.

A beyond-linear arrival came to the flame's glow and with sanity declared: 'Subdue her, you cannot; she belongs to herself.' He will never conquer her heart; it's as improbable as catching a sunbeam in the palm of your hands. Or trying to have a conversation with hydrochloric acid.

Perplexed, the three witnessed the man agree to all their terms, sealing a contract with each one. The enigma, the demon, and the beyond-linear licked their lips; the soul of the first man was guaranteed in exchange for their methods proving as reliable and truthful as they guaranteed."

The housewife took a second breath, licked her lips, and skipped over a pause to remember and continue chattering.
No.1420
Legrandite-29ef3c Anonymous
No.1421
Legrandite-29ef3c Anonymous
>>1421
>Sally
<Batenkaitos… That name sounds like a superhero's to me. According to Mr. Doxia, he's someone admirable and incredibly powerful.

"Looks like he's got himself a fan, huh?"

I tap her nose lightly with my index finger.

"How about next time I tell you about our first date? We rigged the Mexican elections, survived an existential wipe, and finally stopped the cure for cancer by defeating Bill Gates and Microsuave—very, very romantic."

Conspiratorial? Beyond. Romantic? Absolutely. Plausible? Bagdeleyne swears up and down it's true.

<Sally
>B-Bagdeleyne, do you have any special abilities too, or are you just really good at helping others?

"Yup, tons—I can lick my elbow and see my own back. Natural talent, baby."

In an embarrassingly intense display of supernatural skill—illegally practiced by 28 mystical organizations (not really)—she stuck out her tongue and brought her elbow forward. After a minute, licking the joint proved to be a task far beyond any mortal, herself included.

<One week later:
Blood trickled down her fingers, clinking into a dense, endless sea. With no sign of the weapon that harmed her, she flexed her bicep, fusing a tiled bony substance, stitching crimson muscle fibers, and vaporizing surface damage beneath a fresh layer of skin.

Face to face, sky and sea stretched infinitely above and across, horizon to horizon—no borders, no hollow replicas. She reconsidered the pros and cons of the fool's trap Hannah had set, finding more points in favor than against. She'd embed her blades into the world's brain. A theme park with no limits, no worries.

A utopian fantasy. A new figure materialized from the mist, congratulating her.

<LeSueur
>It's official! Officially, you're the first Demon to cross the Nod/Jerusalem barrier in four years. Congratulations!

"Your border is a bad joke," she said frankly, slowing her words as if speaking to a particularly dumb child. "An hour ago, I'd have praised you and your simple little points—you know, I play with your toys every day." She confessed with a shrug. The magic born from the mist, in her opinion, was the most playful and malleable of all. "But you're not here to congratulate me or listen to me ramble badly, am I wrong?"

She inquired in a growling tone. There had to be a serious reason why the beyonders didn't collectively violate the spiritual order's boundaries. Nod wouldn't stay contained by just a "pretty please, don't go :(" from the League.

<LeSueur
>The important thing is: it's the Vatican trying to attack you.

"Vatican, Vatican, vati-rays, Vatman..." She whispered, squinting doubtfully. When it clicked, she snapped her fingers. "Wait—were those the cross fetishists?"
Some time ago I used to despise the human god, the Jewish king, and his countless followers. And above all, the Vatican—the neural hub of one of its main enemies: faith. The weird, sectarian cousin of hope.

<LeSuer
>Looks like getting you out beyond the Nod barrier is part of their purification plan! Strange, right?

"Ehh, 50-50," I waved my hand, demonstrating manually, "It's just any random Saturday."

No, it wasn't. I was exaggerating—after all, nobody ever targeted her personally. She never left witnesses, at least not with full motor function. For her, it's win or die; there's no in-between, it's black or white. And whatever resisted death still suffers her presence with a marriage certificate.

That night, two years ago, they violated her doctrine. The certainty that sustained her dissolved like fog under the sun; they forced her to doubt her philosophical compass, preaching questions that challenged her very being. It all culminated in her following the (twistedly interpreted) advice of a human. In recent years, the few times she defeats the infinite void inside Bagdeleyne's head, she ends up roaming the city with torture on her mind. Dismembering at random, beheading human gurus, destroying objects of sentimental value, spilling coffee on a hipster, stealing a lollipop from a baby, torturing a political prisoner for 488 hours straight. Tremblay was always right—there are a million ways to cultivate oneself in people, to
No.1422
Legrandite-29ef3c Anonymous
>>1422
It was the closest thing to a thank you from her side, a battle like this wouldn't have materialized without her.
<Hannah
>My faith is now one with your will. From this moment of calm arises an invincible force, a forta l e z ª...

♤: Weave: Imagination≈Physical Attributes.

Everything slowed down from slow motion to a time stop, the speed, from the perspective of Desperation, was from 100 to 0 in a blink. Dust particles floated static in the immobility of space, as if they were the only ones who would remember that, at some point, life had buzzed with force and movement.

Desperation ran her tongue over the inside of her mouth, savoring the moment.

The [infinite] imagination extrapolated to the [inmeasurable] physical attributes of Desperation, substituting one for another. It's evident that this would limit her use of the temporal magic temporarily, but who cares when you can hit so hard and move so fast as you please?

At ultrarelativistic speeds i.e. still not surpassing the speed of light kek, she admired the landscape at a distance, meditating for a second (from her optics) what weapon she would use.

Then a light bulb lit up in her head: Air. Today, air would be her weapon, particles at vertiginous speed would be the equivalent for moreallineos to a human receiving shrapnel to the face.

Focus the gaze. Wrap the imaginary spear's shaft with her right hand, palm open and fingers elongated, as if hugging a living being. Her thumb, like a steel hook, closes over the handle, securing an unbreakable grip. The spear aligns straight with her anxious shoulder, ready to launch at discretion.

Her right hand, closely followed by the left, executed the premeditated throw. At ultra-speed it wasn't the big thing, instead at the scale377e32fadc479a422c3b63961574c10a70e3b8546ccabdcb18c22db06bcb7e7a.jpgs mundane, still much before a brain could make synapses by any means given the limitations of nerve impulses and neurotransmitters, the wind howled with a masterful magnitude of assassination.

300 zeptoseconds. A whiteness. A glow. A light discharge and the void calmed down. The kinetic energy overflowed into a unleashed beast, dancing with the wind in a cylindrical and straight spear that refusilo in a flash of light and a thousandth of a thousandth of a second later in a circumvalo of pure nothing. Darkness pierced implicating nearly half of the head of the enigma and the nun in a straight line. Elementary particles, photons, oxygen, everything razed by an imaginarily inabarcable pressure.

The expansion wave hit half a second later, splitting seas and clouds perpendicularly, stripping the seafloor a hundred miles around.

As the seconds passed, a residual drizzle from the macerated Atlantic watered them with a sweetness that washed away the scars of the devastation.

Desperation rested her empty hands with more nothing, ready to fire a second spear.

"Nothing to blink ♡"
No.1423
Legrandite-29ef3c Anonymous
>He is hunched over, his hump towering a head above his neck, and his way of walking is extremely careful. Felipe II, whose real name is Felgrugripi Fátima from the Unknown Dimension, is a being from Beyond of the enigma category. Unlike other beings from Beyond, enigmas are those who share traits similar to humans—distinct enough to separate them from heteromorphs. While some are abstract, others, like the Demoniac Concepts, find a natural form of expression by imitating the appearance of the dominant self-aware species on the planet. Felipe, in particular, has an extremely displeasing face, as if the Mask of Dissatisfaction were an actual face and not just a mask. What makes this being-from-Beyond special is his attention to detail, after all, he is the enigma of a phenomenon known as Indescribability. And although he isn't the head of this phenomenon but merely one of its extremities, Felipe still enjoys attending art exhibitions just to attempt description. Naturally, modern art is pretty mediocre, bordering on garbage. But like a housewife who has countless servants to continuously do her work, you have plenty of free time outside of spending time with Bagory after school. Sometimes delivering sharp critiques about others' tastes can soothe Desperation. It's between 10 and 11 in the morning, with an exhibition canceled due to an orboid accident, there isn't much to explore in the Insignificant East Side. Unlike Lalazel, Felipe is easy to deal with—he sincerely expresses his opinions without delving into matters of honor beyond names.

(Felipe) The Greater Vampire has a memory like a goldfish… Magnificent Lady, she frightens others of her coven, yet cannot identify them. It's a problem. Is it a problem? One day someone will see something they don't want to see.

>He is covered by a black cloak at all times, since underneath it lies an extremely strange body. It's as if from his wide elbows sprouted two pairs of arm-legs, arranged to land on the ground and walk on two axes. However, the difference in lengths and the angle would cause his face to smash into the floor. Somehow, Felipe always manages to dress himself in flashy, vibrantly animal-print patterns beneath his black covering. What he's referring to is an incident involving beings of Total Speed. Recently, television addressed their existence as something that respects privacy little, if at all. Lalazel's statement on the matter is that, although Total Speed assigns her certain tasks and missions, she carries them out with her current awareness, but upon completion, she loses memories of the months or years spent at hyperspeed. Obviously, her subjection to Total Speed includes protecting the Batenkaitos family, so you can forget about the other dozens of flickering beings appearing a thousand times per second that no one would notice. Whatever is eating up food supplies and illegally monitoring the inside of the mansion must be another kind of creature. Although Lalazel is forced to forget, as a vampire with enhanced senses, she would have mentioned it to Felipe.
(Felipe) But the Greater Bloodsucking Vampire has sensed them. Some of those things are funny, others are annoying, and some can even be cute. But, Magnificent Lady, Total Space is perceived as methodical, and Total Time... Total Time is fragile... fragile like... A HUMAN!!
(Sally) Hi, Bagdeleyne! Have you been hanging around the hospital lately? Can't believe we ran into each other so soon... is it on purpose? (...) Today's one of the days they let me out accompanied by a living entity.
>She slipped away alone through the nearby garden, where some Beyond beings were present, and closer by, a human. Sally approached spinning her side wheels, asking about your presence. They're certainly not far from the hospital. The green area is an enclosed zone between buildings where you'd barely spot any Beyond beings or just humans. Apparently Felipe had seen Sally before, which is why he was the first to notice a creature with Total Time's characteristics approaching. Enigmas have an undetectable and partially invisible form; Felipe's is a black wig covering his entire body. Naturally, being an extremity creature, his invisible form grants him not greater but lesser abilities. To pull him out of his wig state, you must shout his name along with a phrase popular among Beyond beings. The person left behind by Sally approaches; she's a young woman with platinum hair. If she isn't nervous about Sally's sudden escape upon meeting you, she's definitely nervous about your peculiar appearance, specifically the way Felipe's hair growth seems to have spread onto yours.
(-) HELLO, I'm Mercy! My name is Mercy Rohdeberg. You've got quite a unique style, Miss Bagdeleyne! Well... didn't expect to run into someone the little Sally knows...
(Sally) Hey! Hm.. Never mind. (...) Miss Mercy, she—Bagdeleyne—already knows about Doxiagropolobitucus.
(Merc游戏副本) I'm part of an organization... I'm part of the Vatican, yes. Heh. We're basically handling the life contract thing in great secrecy.
No.1425
Legrandite-29ef3c Anonymous
>>1425
>Certainly, Sally didn't seem like the type of person who'd have many friends. She quickly gives Mercy precise information about the conversation you had a couple of days ago, apparently in an attempt to make the girl connect with you more quickly. You couldn't fully observe since you were busy putting Felipe into your bag until it was necessary to pull him out of his anthropophobia trance. Naturally, he'd come out on his own if things got complicated, but that didn't seem to be the case around Sally. Mercy looks completely different from other girls her age—her style involves wearing intrinsic crosses, nearly invisible unless noticed by the general outline of her body. She lies blatantly, or at least makes sure to tell a half-truth. For Doxia to bring Sally's case to the Vatican, he'd need some sort of connection with that organization outside the boundaries of Nod, and only humans can form such connections. Outside the hospital, Sally seems like a different person—she takes a more active role, passing by moreallines and glancing at them in a falsely discreet way, staring at the sky and finding similarities between opposing cities. The area around the hospital is naturally calm, its survival rate high, and she'd hardly be able to cause any trouble. That way, the girl became a secondary agent while you talked with the young woman you can't quite remember if you've seen somewhere before.
(Mercy) Actually... A colleague of mine is much more aware of all this Doxiagropolobitucus business and its decisions. I'm here because, after hearing her story, I needed to meet Sally. (...) I think... I think brave souls attract each other!
>Apparently, you couldn't get many concrete answers about the being from the Moreover. Batenkaitos' friend managed to achieve what seems to be a secure method of transferring his life essence, something highly coveted among beings from the Moreover and humans alike. Batenkaitos could probably achieve something similar if he wanted to—either returning Bagory to his morealline form or making humans come up with better movies. Doxiagropo, on the other hand, is far more secretive with information, since other people and beings from the Moreover are willing to steal years from his vitality rather than figure out how to turn minor demigods into something else. Mercy, meanwhile, is exactly the kind of person Sally was when you first met—proactive, hopeful humans. She can say cheesy things that are virtually meaningless beyond personal significance, in a simple, straightforward way. It's an ability that, while not universal among government or external order agents, seems typical of them. It's unfortunate that your family generally lives outside their rules and thus beyond their protection. Sally was returning with some flowers when the sky was suddenly replaced by a gigantic screen. Despair, the demon most active in macabre events, was playing another prank on the inhabitants.pasted-2026-06-06T05-20-10.png
(Depravation) Hello, dear, beloved, god-forsaken, blessed city of Nod! This is Depravation speaking, at roughly 2900 kilometers deep, live from the Gutenberg discontinuity, inner barrier cone of the city. It's extremely narrow in here! Well then, moving on. Have you ever wondered... why do we still use passwords when biometric authentication is far more secure? Has it never happened to you— (...) Anyway, I want your data!!
(Mercy) No way... Sally, Miss Bagdeleyne! I have to go now.
(Sally) Um... The life of an agent of good is so hectic. Alright, fine. Besides... I don't think I need to worry about that life entity thing.
>After delivering a lengthy rant filled with complaints and aggressive undertones about technology, Depravation revealed his event. He intended to reconfigure the city sector by sector, artificially instrumentalizing beings from Beyond and various humans. The conversation with Mercy didn't just have to be paused—it had to be canceled entirely, as she grew visibly impatient. Sally, who was about to spend time with both of you, was slightly annoyed by the event but accepted it immediately, typical of someone who's spent a long time in the city.
>Obviously Sally can never be out without company, so you had to replace Mercy for the 10 or 20 minutes it would take them to finish their walk and return to the hospital. That woman left behind a glitching virtual image of herself after agreeing to Depravation's conditions to participate in his sort of tower defense strategy tournament. Fortunately, the path to the hospital isn't too hectic. Unlike the streets, Sally can cross with you through other passages and folded zones that condense fragments of parks and statues blended together. Unlike with that other girl, with you Sally is much less chaotic; she lets you take whichever direction you find convenient, whether approaching or avoiding other humans. But Sally still has Mercy on her mind, and she comments.
(Sally) She's kind, thoughtful, but also extremely naive. Want to hear something funny about Mercy, Bagdeleyne? She can't tell the difference between aliens and beings from Beyond. Sometimes she can't even tell them apart from humans—can you believe it! I mean, it's super obvious, right? All those green dwarves and giants stink the same—rancid melted plastic, chicken, and rotten fruit. What about their way of speaking…?
No.1426
Legrandite-29ef3c Anonymous
>>1426
>She said it all with a big smile. Since you met two days ago, Sally has treated you like a friend, not hesitating to call you by your name directly, without the formality that might be expected for the wife of Batenkaitos. It's true that many aliens have extremely strange eating habits—indeed, the existence of a prior culture, different from what beings from the Beyond possess in the other dimension, could make them seem unpleasant. But most importantly, Sally is exaggerating. Fortunately for her generalization, there isn't any nearby alien to counter her words by emphasizing their sterile odor. Since they're generally known as needy beings, this human, also in need, could ideally come into conflict with them. Really, she's just trying to gauge the ground, to decide whether or not to apologize.
(Sally) Her husband Batenkaitos works alongside aliens, right? Maybe you're close to several others... I'm not making unfounded comments! Not all the time.
(...)
>She herself said she didn't want to hear the rest of the story you started two days ago; she truly wanted to keep her promises and wait for the official moment when they were supposed to meet. Still, even though this time your trip through the hospital isn't a visit, and with control of Sally's wheelchair in your hands, it seems you might get to know the place better than last time. After crossing the inner threshold, although the hospital ceiling is high and hollow pillars let you see plants and vegetation in the distance, Sally can't help but slightly shift her manner of expression. One of the several archways they pass through has a large side frame enclosing a moderately empty, expansive area. Sally points to that place not as a renovation of a new ward, but as the area where symbolic material from the Beyond was relocated.
(Sally) There used to be a cemetery here. Or well... nobody knew until they discovered a functioning one on the counterpart of the hospital in Nod Issel-Sarexuglactrella, and when they searched here, they found it destroyed.
>An isolated event from the Second Collapse; something similar happened with the Asylum Pandorum and its destroyed counterpart. Naturally, since the Epnion hospital duplicated itself—even in name—nobody would really remark on such a detail, nobody who doesn't have this point as their sole orbit. There are no tomb remains, no nearby structural ruins, no church—only rocks that predated them. As Sally gazes at those nameless rocks, she expresses her feelings fluidly, as if her words hadn't passed through any mental filter upon leaving, because they were processed long ago based on lingering doubts.
(Sally) I wonder... how much could I cry for Mr. Doxia's sacrifice, or if he would cry for me and my untimely death. Would he generate organs capable of expressing that emotion, or react in a way completely different from what I imagine? If there's life after death, I'd like to see him, no matter how hard it would be.pasted-2026-06-06T05-23-59.png
>She had a thoughtful expression at first, similar to the one she showed when Doxia recounted her prepared transfer. She accepted Doxia's wishes as fact and asked about him, while simultaneously asking about herself. Her words soon take on a tone of cold curiosity regarding someone else's emotions. In the end, she admits it isn't indifference—she briefly empathizes with the hypothetical moment in question, but also shows a soft smile of the kind that appears relieved or embarrassed at being able to even consider such a possibility. It wouldn't be long before you could confirm or deny her doubt regarding the being from Beyond, as she begins speaking about a much more quantifiable, known entity—at least to her.
(Sally) As an agent, Mercy is very strong, but among those she admires and those she accompanies, she isn't as strong when it comes to protecting others—only in preserving hope. That's why, in her stories of defeat, countless deaths always follow. I've seen her grow sad at times. She probably still weeps over others' injustices.
>She merely exposes. By her manner, you could already guess she was someone skilled, superior to humans, yet with a briefly nervous attitude that betrays her as inferior among other agents. It's certain Sally asked that girl the same question she asked you, perhaps quite some time ago, and she's kept gathering information about her based on those stories. For a human, remembering isn't merely recounting experiences to someone who hasn't lived them, but also reliving them in a way that allows you to feel again what you once felt. Without delay or laziness, based on what that girl might have told her, Sally already holds certain certainties about Mercy, as if she had studied her. Sally opines.
(Sally) But that's extremely foolish. How many people have lived and died forgotten? How many creatures are listed as missing, reduced to mere numbers or names in newspapers and other records? You don't even need to look too far… In wars or catastrophes, when deaths are counted in hundreds and thousands, families suffer losses—singular losses. One by one, one to two, one to five… People mourn their relatives through a purely individual focus. If they had to grieve for someone outside their close circle, their suffering would be far less. So then, is the value of a life, its impact on others after death, entirely determined by its connections? (...) What connections did Mercy have with those humans that were devoured? They were merely of the same race, that's all. To mourn for them is useless; she'll never do it properly, never as long as she hasn't shared time with them or directly stepped into the shoes of each person who ever cared about any one of those individuals.
No.1427
Legrandite-29ef3c Anonymous
No.1428
Legrandite-29ef3c Anonymous
>>1428
>He reached your reaction speed, only for his first words to be ones of your compassion. Hannah redefined herself while firmly swinging her sword. Below you, around the barrier of Nod, emerging from it and returning, you can observe them, the beings of Total Speed. The few hundreds of creatures that use the power of the Beyond to transcend the limits set by this universe, even when your perception grazes the speed of light, they move incredibly fast. Naturally, at the distance over the sea where you are, you are unable to identify them more than as ants, until it happens, for only when they see you, the light distorts to negative, that in just zeptoseconds. The continuous change of colors to vision of the beings of Total Speed is not a problem, but it is Hannah who inexplicably has reached the level of your skills. She does not confront you immediately, instead she focuses on the being of the Beyond captured in time that is below you, shedding the first layer of his skin due to the immediate radiation. With the hand with which Hannah generates churches, she designates for Doxiagropolobitucus, a fraction of power that moved towards him concentrating light by itself while Doxia regained his reaction upon seeing Hannah.
(Hannah) Turn back to my image, foreign being… Your feats are contemplated within the calculation and grace of my light.
(Doxia) !!D-i-os!! I have searched for you for so long… And at the end of my life, finally. !Dios, you're t-
>Generating a hollow diameter of 20 meters, a beam of light emerged from the ground, this did so with a certain inclination that one of the upper walls of the light almost flew part of your head. At the speed at which they are interacting, the light does not behave as it should, it is slow and seems more like a luminous material moving at the speed relative to that of a subway train, that at a perception level 1 in Nod. The round and hollow interior of the structure of light filled with more light, this time of the type that generates a fundamental field at its ends to push you and Hannah with it. Doxia was absorbed by the same divine light that emerged from the earth and placed in the middle of this solid light, which, at least for him, burned him continuously. Quickly, layer after layer of his six-armed coffin form shed off, until reaching what should be his abstract core. At your movement of ascending through the atmosphere, the sky turns to a dark blue, until the oxygen and ozone no longer reach them, for suddenly they are observing space itself. The stars slide slowly and the sun, or at least to your perception, the sun begins to elongate like a noodle. While Doxia is still assimilating part of Hannah's power, she says in a low voice.
(Hannah) Lucy…
No.1429
Legrandite-29ef3c Anonymous
>>1429
(Hannah) ¡...!
>You immediately lost the ability to move at near-light speeds, but this isn't just for you, but also Hannah and Doxia were crushed by the friction between the speeds at which they are now moving. The surface and light barriers ceased to be solid, in fact they are observed as a single beam that lifts you upward and you are unable to appreciate its limits. The stars no longer deform and the sun remains in its place. What is moving away is the earth and the moon. In just 3 seconds your movement was such that the earth was visualized at the size of a third of the moon's image and the other celestial body was not noticeable. Hannah is continuously spinning while losing part of her cloak and her crown is moving away from her, suffering the pain of the change in speeds. The kinetic shock made Doxia stop burning, but immediately accelerated her transformation, giving her a new spherical body from which her hands protruded. While Doxia exclaimed "the incarnation of God's will," Hannah regained her stability and crouched trying to recover her crown.
(Doxia) Why are you tormenting me with this pain! I need to tell you something! I- What is this...?
(Hannah) 19,884,900,000 kilometers. 19,883,400,000 kilometers.
>I was trying to recover that accessory but she wasn't looking in that direction entirely, she witnessed the curve of the light that they are traveling. The light that comes from the earth is not straight, in fact it does not follow the normal orbital path of the planet. You might think it would follow the direction in which the solar system is moving, but the reality is that this trajectory marks an exit from the galaxy. Fortunately, the speed of light is not fast enough to make you escape the galaxy whose halo limit is 3000 light-years that summarize 3000 years of travel. Hannah is breathing, or just making the gesture of breathing and ventilation. In fact, she doesn't seem to have problems countering the outward force that the vacuum exerts, after the release of tension from the atmosphere. Her voice, which shouldn't be heard for several seconds now, leads toward you not in a psychic way, but every action vibrates the light that pushes you infinitely and stimulates your senses to hear her words as if the speed of sound weren't hundreds of times a fraction. The same happens with Doxia, who after witnessing the change in her body, wakes up from her fanaticism and briefly refers to the nun again.
(Doxia) You are not God, you are still you.... Stupid nun, you will never be able to resist a battle for 18 hours! 132 Astronomical Units, it's crazy! (...) It's crazy for you.
(Hannah) ...
>The powers of a human God are limited to what the human universe can allow. In the past, that creature the size of a spiral galaxy, Kearasig Avralibrima De Bodo, had moved outside the barrier after a escape. She couldn't travel 29 million light-years even if she had access to this divine light, Keasarig had to use certain non-linear ability to plan to steal the galaxy of Girasol at that moment. The only reason Hannah has mentioned the distance continuously, and the only reason this creature from the Beyond is present and chained along with you in this extreme transportation, is because the Vatican probably wants him to perform some similar mysticism. After all, he now has part of Hannah's abilities.
No.1430
Legrandite-29ef3c Anonymous
>>1427
"Aish, my dear, I already told you~ matte red is very buttery and 80s, give velvet a chance"

She discredited the cosmetic preferred by the enigma, in his judgment, there is no ugliness that can survive a dermatological plastering of serum and snail poop extracted from some South Asian dung heap. Of course, he pushed optimism to utopian extremes, advocating for a plum or a jet black tire lipstick wouldn't change the fact that it was as if the Uncanny Valley had gotten out of bed, stretched its legs, and said: "Hello, I'm Felipe." At least in the human case; for the housewife, he was that gay friend of dubious sexuality with whom he shared (whether the enigma wanted it or not) beauty tips.

Felipe, the second of his name, Duke of the fertile NeoNodinos suburbs of what men once called the Bronx, currently, paying homage to his family. At least that's what he made up by default shortly after stepping into the mansion, the truth is that Felgrugripi Fatima from the Unknown Dimension was pleasant company and less arid than Lalazel or other servants; with a simian face, a waddling gait, almond-shaped eyes leaning towards Eurasian, a hooked nose, a rough face, greasy skin, and a hairstyle like wings that sprouted from his temples, so that his squat head always seemed to be on the verge of taking flight. Topped off by an animal print pomposity. Every garment in his possession was a blackish tunic embroidered on the inside with brownish furs. Daily the housewife scolds him that it's a miracle he's still single, any otherworldly being would kill for her. He is a grotesque and dysfunctional specimen, he has everything a being from the beyond could desire.

In any case, he's not her type. He lacks something, that endemic and demographic something from the beyond, he's missing tentacles and five more eyes for her to attribute any range of beauty to him.

<Felipe II
>The Grand Vampire has a goldfish memory… Magnificent Lady, she scares the others of her coven away, but she can't identify them. It's a problem. Is it a problem? Someday someone will see, something they don't want to see.

A swat of his hand blew through his hair, clearing his bangs from his eyes. He thought about her words, which took him that hair-related action.

"It depends, it depends" If what is lurking in her dwelling is a spy, they wouldn't leave incriminating evidence of their presence; if it were a pervert, they would steal her catalog of otherworldly beings in bikinis and not supplies; if their mission were to cause damage, they would plant a remote grenade on her pillow; what assaults her home sounds suspiciously like a raccoon. "What IS a problem is that damn exhibition, what does an orb or two matter? What are they going to do? Implant me 28 years of false memories? Yeah, right, I want to see them try. . . a second time"
Indignant, she crossed her arms with her hands under her armpits, tenser than a kettle about to whistle. Lately, proving to those wretched zoomers that their money-laundering, I mean, art was worth less than her five-year-old daughter's doodles had become a decent dietary substitute for Despair. Shattering hearts bloated with ego measured in kilograms was a snack that satisfied her, at least temporarily—the demon was growing numb to destructive criticism and superfluous tears, not the kind of unrestrained violence and emotional purity she craved. Years had proven that emotional corrosion is a placebo with an expiration date.

<Felipe
> But, Magnificent Lady, Space Total is perceived as methodical and Time Total… Time Total is fragile… fragile like.. !!A human woman!!

Out of the corner of her eye, she shot him a "what the hell?" glance worth more than a thousand words.

"woah, woah—so Time Total is female?"

She slapped her forehead—everything clicked.

"Wait, so does that mean Speed Total™ is a marriage with extra steps?"

Or a mutually beneficial arrangement, which amounts to the same thing—a monogamy where passion is the dividend and love the investment, not too far from Despair's reason for marrying Him.

OP, can I invent a servant? Kek

They turned the corner, planning to head home, when a familiar voice called out to her from her right flank, from the sidewalk ahead. Felipe, true to his racial intolerance, shrank down to the size of a poodle. The housewife shoved him onto her head like a hat, wearing him like a frayed, furry beret—very bohemian and avant-garde. Or so she believed. Luckily, no one dared contradict her or point out she was wearing a dead rat on her head.

<Sally
>Hi, Bagdeleyne! Have you been walking near the hospital a lot lately? I can't believe we've run into each other so soon… could it be on purpose?

"¡Sally!"d8e9fdde486f6796bdeeff9d29ba1920b162749308dc789525fbfc46e35a8f1f.jpg

She filled her lungs and trilled in a fluty voice.

"Sally, sweet and delicate child,
In her chair, ever forward, divine,
With joyful heart and soul so free,
Her light shines bright, unobstructed, you see."

An innocent burst of laughter followed the shoddy poem—she'd been saving that one for a future session, but even so, early gifts overflow with charm.

"I suspect destiny stuck its nose into this—what do you think, Sally? Do you believe in destiny?"

♤:LiterallyPassedInFrontOfHerHospital

An elderly woman with gray hair approached—Mercy, radiating the tireless energy of someone in their twenties—uh! déjà vu. The feeling that she'd lived this scene before somersaulted through her memories. Three-quarters of her sensed kinship; her identity stuck on the tip of her tongue. Who was she, who, from where? A seedbed of doubts gnawed at her memories in search of certainties.

>Mercy
<I'm part of an organization... I'm part of the Vatican, yes. Heh. We're practically handling the life contract thing in great secrecy.

"Vatican, huh… y-you, just, by chance, just, maybe… you don't happen to work for Libra? Does 'sanguine chromatic technique' ring a bell?"
No.1431
Legrandite-29ef3c Anonymous
>>1431
Her lips twisted into a bitter grimace, her mind wavering between reality and fiction—the orb-like trauma still hadn't healed.

How likely was it to cross paths with the same person twice in Nod? One in a million? No, it was more probable for the moon to fall from the sky. And yet, there she was again—the real Mercy—right here, right now. Flesh and bone. Destiny was a cheap plastic surgeon, and irony its favorite tool.

She exhaled sharply, closed her eyes, and turned the page. Didn't want to get into trouble over things she wasn't supposed to know. If Mercy pressed, she'd just claim her intuition was exceptional—really good, that's all.

<Mercy
>I think... I think brave souls are drawn to each other!

♤: DefineSoul

With a distracted gesture, the housewife tapped her lips three delicate times, pondering Mercy's opening words.

"And do brave souls attract adventures, or is it the other way around—adventures that draw them in?"

She tosses out a throwaway question, anything to avoid an awkward silence born from the agent’s ambiguities.

In the end, the topic hardly matters. A screen unfolds from one end of the horizon to the other, vividly displaying the League’s number one headache: Depravity.

The housewife wonders what prize they’ll be offered this time—years of life? Money? A meaningless moral? Nothing at all? If understanding herself was a mystery, deciphering Depravation’s motives was a puzzle with no pieces. She doesn’t rule out that the Demon is on some personal quest, nor does she dismiss the possibility it’s all just out of sheer boredom.

In response, the agent offers condolences for the ruined group outing and rushes at full speed toward the Hierosolymitan catacombs. Viewed from afar, Mercy seemed less like a force to be reckoned with and more like a shadow of her title—a docile, obedient lamb led to slaughter.

"What if Depravation set a trap just so they’d all die buried under 987 thousand tons of rubble? Do they just... jump in headfirst like that?"

She says it out loud. The agents’ suicidal passion is hypnotic—they seem to breathe adrenaline instead of air.

"These young girls and their healthy knees..."

In the end, she smiles at Mercy’s shrinking figure, silently wishing her the best.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

With Mercy now scaled up into a Dota-style MOBA character, the housewife takes the reins, gently and calmly steering the handlebars of her seat, moving through narrow alleys, half-abandoned lots with minimal commercial activity, and slightly wider avenues. Mostly avoiding urban bustle—the symptom of human tumult. The housewife kept pointing out mannequins every now and then, decked out in Shein summer dresses, hippie skirts, and Gucci footwear, almost offering to buy something when the girl resumed the earlier conversation.
<Sally
>She's good, thoughtful, but also extremely naive. Want to hear something funny about Mercy, Bagdeleyne?

♤: No.

"Let me guess—she's not naturally albino?"

She nodded slightly, eager to hear the gossip. The moment she heard it, a bittersweet smile formed on her lips, testing the waters, checking whether the housewife should be genuine or keep playing the inclusive, politically correct role. A second later she couldn't hold it back—an discreet, asthmatic giggle escaped her, which she quickly covered with the back of her hand as they passed by some resident of koi-4878 or Kepler-[insert the first numbers on the keyboard]. A stifled "ojojo" of a rich brat.

"The disgust—if it had a face, it'd be theirs. They're so, I mean, so, so sour, their insides are so strange, their flesh doesn't quite taste like meat, and cutting them open with a santoku feels like slicing leather. Have you ever tried eating one? If they're not even good to eat, then what's the point?"

The extraterran political parties win her vote every year by campaigning to abolish basic rights for those subhumans. She dreams that one day recipes containing extratemporal ingredients will become cheaper and, of course, more legal. Obviously, she'd never reveal such things to Bagori—she doesn't deserve to be influenced by her gruesome political tastes in the kitchen.

The girl retracts her acidic arguments, wary of potentially offending her.

"Him? I have some ideas, some suspicions, but if I told you what he does for a living, I'd be lying. Poor little lump of cinnamon—if he had to deal with such ugly creatures."

Out of nowhere, she knows he's a diverse landowner across the twin cities and the extraterran kingdom. Her so-called suspicions come from the time he suspends their cohabitation intervals and the fact that he has friends—and she doesn't, kek. Could he have another business? D-does he have another family with some enigma suripanta...? Nope, impossible. No one else could cook for him like she does. No one else measures up. She is the very stereotype of the perfect wife.

Ahead, apples in sight, they spot the rising arches of the hospital welcoming them in. They cross outer and inner thresholds, where the winding outlines of the pathways emerge under the gooey light of the surroundings. At an equidistant point between entrance and exit, Sally points to a particular area—gnawed mounds of granite, crosses eroded by time, and a wild tundra sheltering the former heritage of the dead.

<Sally
>There used to be a cemetery here. Or well… nobody knew until they discovered a functioning one on the opposite side of the hospital.

"WHAT?"
No.1432
Legrandite-29ef3c Anonymous
>>1432
A hospital next to the cemetery is as comical as a crack dealer hanging out by an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting or a "No Smoking" sign at a tobacco shop, or, or... the point is, the architect of the EPNion clinic woke up feeling funny that day.

<Sally
>I wonder... how much I could cry for Mr. Doxia's sacrifice, or if he would cry for me and my untimely death.

The conversation freezes, going from fun to awkward in five seconds or less, with the housewife, her facial features contorting, unsure of which answers are correct, which words are precise. Her eyes lose a certain childish air and become sharp, with a certain emotional steeliness, an isolating indifference. An absent gaze.

A long silence was the most attractive option from the start, staying quiet and steering the conversation to a good place, listening until the cold shoulder took effect. However, no matter how much she forces it, she is not insensitive, she is incapable, much less with a child related to Bagori. The child's feelings reach her, no matter how much distance she puts between them.

"Go on, I... is it just crying, or is there more? Think about it, suffering has a thousand faces, each with its personal signature," she replied. "It has expiration dates, some cry today, others tomorrow, some never." She slowed the chair's movement to a halt, where she placed her hands on the little one's shoulders. "Each wound is unique, each pain is exclusive, and every scar is perpetual."

She demonstrated her point by pinching the girl's scantily fleshed shoulder. The pain didn't hit hard until she released the fold of skin.

"Understand, if men are too stubborn to cry, what awaits a 'masallíneo'? It must be unthinkable, undignified, they probably don't even know about it."

After all, crying is an evolutionary phenomenon meant for babies, totally vulnerable and helpless beings whose only defense mechanism is an alert for adults.

What would a 'masallíneo' like Doxia be supposed to cry for? He is his own father, he was born strong and from the first second knew he would die strong, tears are a conceptual and biological absurdity in the afterlife.

<Sally
>As an agent, Mercy is very strong, but among those she admires and those she accompanies, she is not so much when it comes to protecting others, but only her hope. That's why, in her stories of defeat, she is always accompanied by many deaths.

Her chest rose and fell like an old, worn-out bellows. Before, she would boast about liquidating league assets, but nowadays, knowing they are a couple of brats who probably get paid minimum wage, it doesn't awaken any pride in her.
"Know what? I used to look down on agents, saw their work as pointless, thought they were lying to themselves to avoid admitting they're just ants among elephants. I mean, look at her—she's stupid, walking straight into a trap Depravation planned down to the last detail." He closed his eyes for a blink, tilted his head slowly into a NO. "Even so, imagine facing interdimensional rifts every other day, sacrificing your youth and putting your life on the line for people you don't know and who don't acknowledge you. I might not get it, but I definitely respect it."

He said it with a healthy dose of sarcasm. Of course, they don't touch the core of the matter, the intimacy of the subject. Sally, or rather, her most honest version, breathes in deeply from the outside, fills her lungs with air, and spits out a few inner truths.

The housewife listened patiently, nodding politely at intervals. Gravity carved a line of concern across her forehead; the corners of her lips sank like a stone tossed into the sea, forming a bare crescent.

She thought about offering emotional support, being a shoulder to cry on, playing the role of the mother likely so absent in the girl's life, being that compassion missing from her routine. Flashing a wide ear-to-ear smile, keep lying to her, deepen the charade.pasted-2026-06-06T05-35-08.png

Until arrived at...

<Sally
>“Every creature has a special light within themselves.” I was just lying to you, Bagdeleyne.

By this point, her face was a closed book, no pages left to read, no emotions left to share.

"Why don't you..." her drooping gaze lifted, synchronized with the slow, circular weight now positioning the girl in front of the housewife, "...kill yourself?"

A question slipping through like a viper in tall grass, catching the unwary off guard.

"Aren't you afraid to die? You don't care about being mourned, and no family will notice you're gone. How hard is it to jump from your third-floor bedroom? Inject a bit of air intravenously? Or just stop taking your meds and let nature handle the dirty work?"

Her hands explored the terrain, climbing up her shirt-covered belly and stopping at her slender neck. Her fingertips massaged the skin superficially, tracing sinuous curves across the thin membrane separating muscle from trachea. It was gentle and cautious, devoid of real pressure.

"I see it in your eyes, Sally—you want to live. You can preach that feelings are meaningless, that death means nothing to you, or that Dox's sacrifice is some frivolous overreaction." Her fingers and palms tightened around the neck, pressing a little more, and a little more, second by second. "You want to get out of that wheelchair, go out for coffee with Mercy, spend quality time with Dox, have a life—whether selfish, altruistic, laissez-faire, or whatever."

The pressure boiled into something suffocating, just enough to start cutting off the air.

"Sally, I'm going to break your neck in five seconds, in five parts and five ways. You decide if the name 'Sally' means anything, if she's a good or bad person, if she still wants to live, if anyone would miss her. Your life is in your hands."
No.1433
Legrandite-29ef3c Anonymous
>>1433
Two of her fingers pressed down hard, gripping tightly into the soft flesh.

"Four."

Four fingers dug in, bruising the pale skin.

"Three."

Six fingers sank deeper, forcing the girl's neck back against the elastic backrest of her chair.
In plain terms and dumbed-down physics, Desesperación can't help but think the U.U.M is gonna seize everything down to her ass when she senses nearly a million lives pulverized alongside Boston and some other city whose name she never even learned.

"Nothing of value was lost."

Suddenly she remembers the U.U.M only involves itself in esoteric matters, making the urban holocaust and subsequent geological catastrophes even more meaningless. She pulls back her gaze and stares at the nothingness resulting from Lesuer, lips straight and tightly pressed, pure disappointment on her face—she'd expected a grand spectacle of absurd, unprecedented sorcery. At the very least, not such an instantaneous death.

"Enigma! I curse you to a life of automated phone calls and hold music! May you reincarnate as a low-quality noir novel!"

She wouldn't have expected less from the little nun—until the dust settled and the air cleared, revealing her completely unharmed, not a single scratch, levitating motionless and frozen.

"Huh?"

She recognized something similar to the innate abilities of dog men (aka werewolves), virtually nonexistent and immune to all effects. In such extreme scenarios, where there was nothing to cut and no one to touch, she had no choice but to drag them out of their incorporeal hiding place with an intangible curse.

"Un-weave—"

Before she could play her trump card, the nun exceeded the speed of sound by thousands of times, closing the distance instantly to demand, solely and exclusively, mercy.

<Hannah
>I forgive you. I am not a tool. I am a living manifestation of heavenly judgment. Will feels no anger—only executes divine mandate.

Her fiery gaze said it all. That forgiveness hit like a runaway locomotive plowing through a Chinese porcelain shop. Now more than ever, she wanted to get her hands on that sister.

"NoItDoesntWorkLikeThat"

She absolves her sins in rage, starting to hate how all these agents were so apathetic, so detached from any feeling. It's not fun if all she gets in return is a "forgiveness" or a "I don't hate you"—i-it makes no sense! Things don't work that way!
No.1434
Legrandite-29ef3c Anonymous
>>1434
Her sentence commuted to rage, she was starting to hate that all the agents were so apathetic, so isolated from all feeling. It's not fun if all you get in return is a "sorry" or "I don't hate you" It-it doesn't make sense! Things don't work like that!

In a lapse less than a thousandth of a thousandth, several events to consider occur. Firstly, the personal army of Total Speed borders the barrier, iridescently monochromeing the entire landscape. Seeing it from Bagdeleyne's eyes is one thing; being a direct participant in unnatural speed that violates all pre-established laws is sublime. Secondly, the slow Doxia transmigrates into a new form upon being invested with the nun's sacred light. She smiled, interested in the challenge, just as a light source zigzagged and abducted the three of them, taking off with their backs to the ground as if riding a rocket.

"Nunnnnnnnnnnn"

The following seconds, her voice was hoarse from cursing her so much. Luckily, no one had to endure her tantrum once she inflated into a ball of flames in a helical somersault, plummeting to the atmospheric threshold.

From a sunny blue sky, she passed into the starry black. From a hundred degrees to minus two hundred degrees, in a vacuum devoid of oxygen, pressure, and hovering around absolute zero thermal energy.

In her underthings, disheveled and sooty, the demon grabbed her neck with both hands and thrashed in the air, though there's no air, kek. About a minute later, she half-opened an eyelid, unsure of her status. It was the first time she'd been thrown there. In fact, it was a surprise to discover she could do without breathing, heat, or terrestrial pressure. According to the stereotype installed by Bagdeleyne's movies, her head should now explode like in a cartoon or at least freeze and drown.

Nothing mortal came of it, no matter how long she waited within the light duct.

What was a limitation was sound; without air, it was impossible for her to say a peep. From now on, Doxia and the nun will have to settle for miming, and by miming, the demon means giving the angel the middle finger.
In the blink of an eye, they left the solar system behind; Earth shrank to a grain of sand and the Sun to a dying firefly, making way for trillions of galaxies and stars in every primary color. Despair turned her back on the duo and stared at the celestial vault with the dumbfounded awe of a country girl seeing the city through a car windshield for the first time. Everything reminded her of that date four years ago.pasted-2026-06-06T05-38-15.png

Másallá argues unilaterally with his Saint, showing no faith from her side, deeming it impossible to exit the solar system before she runs out of strength—and Despair agrees with him, in her own way.

(Demonic Contract: Cosmological Transaction: Despair: Kālī)

On this date, a hundred thousand Hindus regularly gathered in their mandir suffered convulsions, nosebleeds, and suddenly, abrupt death. Despair acted as trustee between Entity 1 (the human universe) and Entity 2 (the Másallá realm), under the identity of Kālī, a being wielding a billion followers, over a billion potential lives, and trillions of future generations. They were her collateral, and the initial hundred thousand were the method by which she requested and processed the contract equation.

Despair proposed to Entity 2 an energy expenditure proportional to the devastation of Entity 1, while to the aforementioned Entity 1 she proposed the same. A self-sustaining loop with no monetary loss—she’d destroy a few things here and there, later mutually restored.

It sounds good on paper. However, you can never satisfy the U.U.M. It's only a matter of time before they realize she’s scamming both Entity 1 and Entity 2 with a pseudo-perpetual motion machine—an invention on par with eliminating poverty by printing more money.

(and by the time they figure it out, it’ll be too late ♡)

from now on implied, as I always say, you can cancel or replot any delusional or dumb shit from my monkey kek

In the imaginary plane. Upon sealing the agreement, she shook hands with Entity 1 and, standing on tiptoes, gave Entity 2 a kiss on the cheek. The agreement, in broad terms, grants her partial control over the thermal energy of the human universe and absolves her from potential legal charges in the event of mass destruction.
No.1435
Legrandite-29ef3c Anonymous
>>1435
♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

The luminous duct was gradually losing speed, decreasing from light, sound and the sound, to a zero point, remaining in a sedentary transit, at human level. Desperation recovered her dress with a striking additive, a trifid tiara, of gilding of a blinding glow, binding her forehead and temples. After a few blinks they could become conscious that she was blocking the passage of light, she herself, via the contract, aggregated and crowded so many solar masses in her avatar that she began to be the analogue to a black hole! And no, not because she is fat!

The participants, the light, the dark matter, everything obeyed gravity, consequently orbiting her.

"Like you little nun? I made it with the three Marys!"

Pointed to the crown with an arrogant thumb.

"Let's see, let's see, tin-marin-de-don-pingue"

Navigated the horizon with a finger, scrutinizing with the wrinkled and concentrated forehead the unfortunate cluster of galaxies that would go down in history by the authority of chance.

>♤: Des-Tejer: Entity 1: [Insert infinitecimal number of stars]

In a game of perspective, he closed the space between the index and the thumb, cutting, mutilating, segregating and isolating the atoms to a point of thermal death. In the process, another thousand pajeets died of a neurological shock when computing and digitizing so many names of Entity 1 to Desperation. A void space opened by slashing that astronomical stretch.

"The next will be Nod, doll"

He reproduced the movement before, positioning his two fingers at the angle behind her, the point where her Milky Way gives.

"Nun, spit out, why do you want to take me to that I-who-knows?"

A mischievous smile settled on her lips

"You give me one chance: if you convince me, I won't send our entire solar system straight to hell" Closed her eyes, far from faltering her mocking gesture, it widened "I double the bet, if you just let go of that prudish paper and respond, I will surrender, without any objections, you will purify me"

He extended his hand and brought a fist to his chest.

"The name of a demon is his oath, I honor it when I promise"

He doesn't lie, he is ready to tolerate eighteen hours and counting of waiting if the Saint says once and for all the truth. And by the way, justifies why he trashed her five-hundred-dollar oak door, especially that, was the entrance of her house demonic or what?
No.1436
Legrandite-29ef3c Anonymous
4bb3bad1029900e1faffb6b2e5d6725999ccf299404c44493825d0266b2bdc6d.jpgHer sentence was commuted to rage, she was starting to hate that all the agents were so apathetic, so isolated from all feeling. It's not fun if all you get in return is an "I'm sorry" or "I don't hate you" It-it doesn't make sense! Things don't work like that!

In a lapse less than a thousandth of a thousandth, several events of note occur. First, the personal army of Total Speed borders the barrier, iridescently monochromeing the entire landscape. Seeing it from Bagdeleyne's eyes is one thing; being a direct participant in unnatural speed that violates all established laws is sublime. Second, the slow Doxia transmigrates into a new form, invested in the holy light of the nun. She smiled, interested in the challenge, just as a light source zig-zagged and abducted the three of them, taking off with their backs to the ground as if riding a rocket.

"Nunnnnnnnnnnn"

For the next few seconds, her voice was hoarse from cursing her out. Luckily, no one had to endure her tantrum once she inflated into a ball of flames in a helical tumble, plummeting to the atmospheric threshold.

From a sunny blue sky, she passed into starry blackness, from a hundred degrees to minus two hundred degrees, in a vacuum devoid of oxygen, pressure, and hovering around absolute zero thermal energy.

In her undergarments, disheveled and sooty, the demon grabbed her neck with both hands and thrashed in the air, though there's no air, kek. About a minute later, she half-opened an eyelid, unsure of her status. It was the first time she'd been thrown there. In fact, it was a surprise to discover she could do without breathing, heat, or terrestrial pressure. According to the stereotype installed by Bagdeleyne's movies, her head should now explode cartoonishly or at least freeze and drown.

Nothing mortal came of it, no matter how long she waited inside the light duct.

What was a limitation was sound; without air, it was impossible for her to say a word. From now on, Doxia and the nun would have to make do with mime, and by mime, the demon meant giving the angel the middle finger.

In the blink of an eye, they left the solar system behind. Earth minimized to a grain of sand, and the sun to a dying firefly, making way for trillions of galaxies and stars in all primary colors. Despair turned its back on the duo and began to gaze at the celestial vault with the wonder of a peasant witnessing a city from a car window for the first time. Everything reminded her of that date four years prior.
No.1440
Legrandite-29ef3c Anonymous
>>1440
>She slowly tilted her head back, the corner of her lips opening into a gap that would only allow a breath of air to pass through. Her eyes followed you as she looked away. More than being impressed, Sally felt fear. There was no doubt about that fear, she reacted to it immediately, as if she had considered it for a long time. Her next response to your proposal was a series of stammering words trying to deny it as she did everything she could to look away from you. All the objectivity she had managed to maintain when discussing the death of others drained away, and the emotional expressiveness that exploded toward the end against you faded, leaving sparks of minimal reactions. As she pressed the edge of her wheelchair with her right hand, while her left slid out toward the wheel. And the way she finally managed to lower her gaze back toward the ruined garden, an unconscious direction. Her head moved to one side and back, not completing the full movement. From your perspective, Sally has always been very small. While sitting, the height of her cap barely reaches halfway up your body. It's the wool embroidery that is most striking when you bend down to reach her neck. She definitely saw your hands coming toward her, but she couldn't do anything.
(Sally) It hurts...
>She closed her eyes immediately. From the pain, the upper facial muscles tensed showing her panic, below her mouth opened into a wide i* to say. The grip wasn't strong enough to cut off her breathing, but still, it did, for a few seconds. It was Sally herself who was suggesting that pain. From your side, you can feel the touch of her delicate skin in your hands, she was colder than you, and the absence of proper treatment leaves a dry surface. You can feel how her jaw drops when she tries to speak, but beyond that, you can also gauge the tremor of her jaw. She had gotten used to the initial pain, while the first second passed, you could feel the weight of Sally's right hand on your left arm. It exerts an insignificant force for your avatar, and not only for your avatar, but also for a human standard. Her attempt to free herself could easily be mistaken for an attempt to get attention due to her weakness. The force in your hands increased, but even before this was applied, Sally had already prepared to say, touching you was just the signal.
(Sally) You too... a-amas... a one of them.
>It was costly for her to open her eyes to look at you directly while saying, to the point that she probably couldn't do it as she tried because of you. Nevertheless, with the pressure of your hands on her voice, she marked similarity. You don't know any human related to Sally, nor does she or Doxia mention them at any time. If you have to assume about her, the most likely is that she is alone. If the hope of someone brought her to this city to seek a miracle, it's safe to say that Sally considers all her years alive as much as she could reach that hope. In this situation, she couldn't afford to lie. She appreciates Doxia's efforts, and that being from the Beyond. Her love, like that of everyone else, was born by circumstance. Even if her decadent state and marginalization led her esteem to be more valuable than yours, Sally easily dissociates the appearance of Doxia and marks a miserable fate for those around her.
No.1444
Legrandite-29ef3c Anonymous
No.1445
Legrandite-29ef3c Anonymous
No.1446
Legrandite-29ef3c Anonymous
No.1447
Legrandite-29ef3c Anonymous
No.1448
Legrandite-29ef3c Anonymous
>>1448
(...)
>At the beginning, the lands placed side by side were very similar to each other, as if one were a reproduction of the next a few seconds later. Slowly, as more seconds passed in this spiral of dragging between lands you could notice that some scenarios repeated and their repetition differed from a land already traveled not by seconds but by minutes. The continuous collision between non-existent planets completed a ritual of 30 seconds, in which a Doxia beyond your reach and your gravity continued reciting. Continuously the iterations of time between lands increased, so that not only the objects inside these planets, the structures and people showed differences every minutes or hours, but also in months. You saw the complete passage of at least two seasons towards the end of this strange ritual. Since they were not you who now had movement, it was impossible to determine the exact moment in which they moved. They shifted hundreds of thousands of kilometers in a teleportation that made use of the confusion generated by crossing the same planet so many times. On a scale, the hole you created in the cosmos is negligible. They are still inside the galaxy, and although they left the solar system behind a long time ago, you still have a last replica of the earth with which you could practice a landing. It was this last planet that rotated on itself continuously, until you felt your skin attacked once again ideally attacked by the curse of the barrier. The planet was the one that rotated so that an alien ship over the divided city within Nod could function as a network to capture them. Naturally the ship is reacting catastrophically to the impact. But, no matter how all the inanimate objects follow their course, no creature could move, avoid it or do anything.
(Hannah) 1 kilometer, 200 meters. I will erase - your future. Prepare yourself!
>Hannah landed on the air avoiding crushing a large pile of alien beings, she said showing again her desire to calculate distances and directions, the nun then made sure to say to hold her sword firmly and get away from the explosion of the ship in search of landing on the streets of the static big apple. Doxia, on the other hand, is located thousands of kilometers away from you, you are incapable of observing it even by the absorption of light, but you can feel it rotating around even when the common Nodino imaginary sky blurs your vision. It must have continued being attracted by your gravity, increasing its orbit to not fall by accident, but suddenly, Doxia stopped dead. Larger than any nearby star, probably larger than the total of objects inside the galaxy, an image of several creatures appeared invading completely the horizons. They have a very strange appearance, different from any being of the Beyond, but which you can partially relate to human in any way. That being larger than observed nearby, similar to a puppet had a voice that you remembered from somewhere. No matter how you reacted, those strange creatures determined for the being of the Beyond and kidnapped it. Doxia shrank so much that you stopped feeling the radiation it emitted below the atomic level.
(-) Being of the Beyond, Doxiagropolobitucus, you altered Total Space. You will be sent to immediate judgment. ▢▢▢▢▢▢▢▢▢ will determine a punishment for you and your human possessions.
No.1449
Legrandite-29ef3c Anonymous
No.1450
Legrandite-29ef3c Anonymous
No.1451
Legrandite-29ef3c Anonymous
>>1451
Pleione, the last one, will resist a little longer. Her smaller mass allows her to live a few extra seconds, before finally fading out completely. In about two seconds, Des-Weave disperses them on a subatomic scale, a phase where their energy depletes to the point of becoming imperceptible to the human eye and erased from collective memory.

It's not a remarkable segment of spatial geography—it's merely trial and error to verify whether the nun's state is directly proportional to the state of the universe.

If correct, the only chance to defeat her is... annihilating the universe?

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

The crucial sentence that makes Desperation's arm hairs stand on end with anticipation, when a matter soul loses all momentum, all breath, squeezing out drop by drop everything that separates "human" from "her." To be the sole tenant in her soul, where she finds her true home, the family table at which she dines on love and longing.

"Two."

This wasn't the case. She genuinely wanted to give a practical end to violence, to spread hope in the girl without resorting to the usual consoling phrases you slap onto everyone's face. Not getting a clear response, seeing her shed tears, she realizes just how little she actually understands humans. The line separating her desire to live from her need to die was blurry—two paths equally attractive.

One more second... she's certain Sally will beg to live at the last moment, retract everything, and heal all existential fatigue.pasted-2026-06-06T15-20-03.png

Clearly, as a psychologist, the housewife would starve to death or end up in prison within less than 34 hours.

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

https://youtu.be/glucWS42wJY?si=slSrtoMJeg3nWwxi>0.10/s
Her back slammed into the concrete with tectonic clamor and seismic convulsion, her head and spine rebounding like a spring, scattering her hair like a cobalt rain across the pavement. The impact drills seismic plates in tenths of a second, ejecting her through the opposite side of the planet to repeat the process at:

>0.20/s
She crashes face-first into another pair of Nod's, swallowing a mouthful of asphalt while diving into the architectural entrails of Thrillfair and fossilized New York. Preheated to 5,000 degrees Celsius at Earth's core, then exalted over Chinese territory for the second time. Ten, twenty, fifty times—the Doppler effect stains the entire color spectrum blue, barely keeping count of the pornographic number of Earths her body skewers like a kebab. In the next minute she overflies and skids across metropolitan zones and barren countryside, mountains explode into fragments and skyscrapers are demolished to the chant of Doxia. If she weren't swallowing illusory concrete or continuously roasted by the atmosphere, she'd curse the beyond-lineal and his entire lineage.
Its astronomical mass worked against it, to the tune of a row of stars, its inertia was extrapolated to tens of thousands of falsified lands by the action of friction. Although Despair allows herself to doubt, these do not seem exactly like real planets and she is more than sure that imaginary properties are governed by imaginary laws, otherwise it should not be possible to move it from its starting point if not for the gravitational field of a sufficiently massive star. Very impressive at first glance, to a critical eye the fakeness of the reproductions becomes apparent. Petrified living beings like posters and landscapes frozen in a surreal art gallery, upon razing Detroit or Guadalajara for the fifth time, she can confirm that it is not an optical illusion created by speed, they are in minimal temporal variations of the same place, she can swear it's the fifth time she's killed the same guy! And after the first twenty times, she swears she saw him blink and minutely move!

"Couldn't you teleport us or something!? Don't you control fucking space!?"

Or at least that is her conclusion, the net abilities of Doxia and the Nun are space-dimensional of the coplanar type, or translating it into a language friendly to the average housewife, they modify distance and dimensions, which is why Dox can store avant-garde structures in a pocket dimension, teleport out of Nod and now generate spatial copies of the plane- aish, why can't the beyond-ones have normal abilities like construct! Something that kills her and that's it.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡
Veins branching blood a few millimeters from such fragile skin. She massaged the soft jugular with the heel of her hand, with burning fingers, cold pressure. It was not necessary to remind herself why her act was wrong, this was not for her or her selfishness, it was to prove her point, to give Sally a second chance... wasn't it?

On the count of one, she abruptly opens her fingers and unclasps the pad of her trachea, distancing her hands to let them fall to her sides.

Far, far from the first words she expected, Sally contradicts everything she took for granted. The news hits her like a ton of bricks, her lips opening into a perfect 'o' and her eyes closing into a skeptical line, more lost than ever.

"D-Die?"

Her eyes thawed slowly.

"Why-why are you so sure? N-nothing is impossible in Nod until an HR committee says otherwise," she protested. "Come on, my tax return reproduced itself and is now a sentient entity, I saw an alien armada that boarded Earth to study nineties comedy, decapitated people still talking, black holes getting call center jobs, terminally ill people curing themselves with vampirism and, and you tell me you're going to die, Sally? That y-your fate is sealed? Just like that?"

She refuses to believe it. Simple human setbacks are poor currency in a city governed by the most empirical absurdity.
No.1452
Legrandite-29ef3c Anonymous
>>1452
"Fourteen years old," she remarked, melting her tongue over every word as if it were syrup sweetening bitter tea. "Four-teen-years-old." She clenched her fists with fierce impotence. This time, the problem wasn't one she could excise, dismember, or amputate. There was no knife to wield, no enemy to bring down. It was as sad and simple as a girl clinging to life with nail and tooth... one slipping through her fingers like sand from an hourglass.

"Why do you TORTURE yourself like this? Shouldn't you be one of those girls who see the future with optimism, without wondering if her adoptive father will sacrifice his life for her, or if fate will hang her from her wheelchair tomorrow? You worry and suffer over things no one can control, you pity yourself for the worst-case scenarios, you, you—"

She spoke on that critical edge that distinguishes speaking aloud from shouting, her fingers so curled that her nails left tattoos on her palms.

"Seeing you with—" From behind, her iron expression crumbled into one that barely held back surprise. "Resentment?"

Her tongue cracked in a frustrated snap.

"Salli, I, I don't hate you, nor should you fear me. I'm a sad woman who spends the whole damn day chopping food and watching Two and a Half Men because I can't spend more than an hour with a human without obsessing over chopping them into cubes. I'm the most pathetic creature I know, and that's saying something since I voted for that senile old man Biden."

She drew in and exhaled a healthy dose of honesty, burying her gaze in the floor before turning halfway around.

"And when I first went to Epnion, it really wasn't any different. I was just playing a designated role, a fake interest, a feigned pity, feelings I don't actually have for you people, words I was pre-billing to camouflage myself and satisfy the batenkaitos." Really, her reproach about lacking friends wasn't an honest protest; it was the housewife herself who wasn't interested in anyone outside her family circle. "Despite that, you ended up awakening genuine empathy in me. When I see you like this, m-my chest hurts, and, just, just..." She nibbled her lower lip, unearthing those words. "I wanted to help you, to hug you, without being the thousandth person who brainwashes you with fairy tales."

She turned again on her axis, facing the exit.

"Sorry, Sally... I was and am a bad person. No matter how many movies I gulp down, no matter how many ways I try to copy a human, I can't seem to become one."

Before the two of them parted ways, she made one last request, one she didn't expect anything in return for.

"If, knowing all this, you still want me to come back next week, I will. Without buts."

Promises and oaths are sacred, whether you're human or a toilet worthy of your respect. Once outside, after walking two blocks, she would take off her shoes, Felgrupipi-style, beret included, to clarify a thing or two.
"Felipito, you know your company is very pleasant, I enjoy it, but if He were to find out that I mistreated a friend's daughter, I would feel very sad and very disappointed. Can I count on you?" I didn't even wait for the Enigma of a yes or no; I didn't delay in a subretic: "Yes? You're the best!"

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

Boreal spring, austral autumn. One semester converges in thirty seconds of filming; it sees the same guy who has murdered about two thousand times attend his job at an insurance store for the eightieth time. After fulfilling the first minute of cosmic parachuting and depilating several thousand cities, he finally spots the last stop, the final Earth globe. pasted-2026-06-06T15-22-54.png

A human alfiredazo cushions the impact, puncturing the ozone layer, then a flying saucer, and finally shattering a micro-seismic event dozens of meters around the great Noddende apple. He doesn't delay in emerging from a pyre of volcanized rubble, his clothes corroded by the troposphere and his skin greased with carbon, oxides, and residues of prolonged combustion. He flails like a soaked kitten, changing into a third set of clothes and peeling carbon dioxide off his skin. He was getting tired of playing cat and mouse with a couple of such deceitful and slippery rodents.

<Nun
>1 kilometer, 200 meters. I will eliminate your future. Get ready!

I conjectured it at the start, discarded it halfway, and verified it now. The ecclesiastic has not the slightest intention of harming her, nor of saving anyone; she doesn't attack her, doesn't care about being stripped or about Doxia having just been abducted by total space to the quantum kingdom? (Does that exist or did I just invent it..?), for now she gives it little importance; it's time for certainties, not farces. And the only truth is that the nun is a blind devotee of her plan; for some reason, she guarantees her victory by leading her to that specific place.

"As a living organism, your perseverance is on another level, little nun."

With oxygen back, I matched my breath, reflecting a gleaming enthusiasm in my eyes.

"I don't lie; it's been a long time since someone didn't burn my ass. Patience, hatred is healthy, and I like it when someone knows how to earn it."

Anger, frustration, and laziness weigh on her, condensed in an inner soliloquy reproaching her for why faith is so extremely out of her reach. Faith proved to be unattainable to her intentions. To be immovable. To be immutable. To be able to maneuver it at will.

No, her blind hatred does not belong to the nun; she is one of the millions of puppets of hope. Her sworn enemy, the cause and effect of all this, is and always will be faith. Faith to defeat her, faith to drive her away, faith to purify her, the faith the nun embodies, the faith the nun professes.

She clenched her fists, lowered her eyelids, and opened her mind to her recent imaginary contract. She has done and undone at will, always restricted by the sacred barrier of Jerusalem. Individuals, concepts, and objects are shielded by the dome of the beyond, inaccessible to her influence from within.
No.1453
Legrandite-29ef3c Anonymous
>>1436
O like that until the nun took her for a walk. From that moment on, the sky stopped being a limit and became a bridge to horizons without obstacles. To a land without law infinite.

>700 mtrs
The universe flickered, what could have been confused with a bad pass of the imagination ended up being manifested to the nun's eyes. Stars, planets, nebulae, comets; the brightest flame and the most fleeting spark, the most dying white dwarf and the most fierce red giant, all were discriminately appearing, or at least vanishing without resistance, as if the wax embraced itself, suffocating the last spark of a candle.
pasted-2026-06-06T15-26-42.png
Around the Demon the spatial mesh was crushing everything by hand, including the distance separating the two from the anticipated meeting point, everything within an astronomical radius was being drawn towards the gravitational singularity in which Desperation was becoming.

Her survival instinct is indistinguishable from her self-destruction impulse. It would not be surprising if she had in mind causing a second baryogenesis. Sacrificing herself on the scale of all observable creation, housing and concentrating all the energy of the infinite human universe into a finitely small point as is her avatar, to explode in a massive suicide across the four cardinal points. It is an idea that two years ago she would have applauded, however, what she was seeking by storing all the energy of the human plane was very different, it was to modify it platonically.

>400 mtrs
Outside, her avatar was evaporating due to the overexertion of restoring her motor functions and brain mass thousands of times per second, shrinking her form to that of a Desperation of little more than ten years to optimize the tortuous process of cellular regeneration. totally necessary for the plot

>200 mtrs
That outside, inside...

https://youtu.be/jCLiAvUKEyE?si=gRldiD3tMKA_MG4d[Embed]Immutable and imperishable, a realm with more than one name: Noosphere, Ontological Plane, Axiomatic System, Platonism. The demons know it as the imaginary plane.

In a moderately furnished 60's cafeteria, with no clientele and a vintage long and curved mahogany bar, polished to exhaustion. Waits a messy and capricious little girl blowing a bitter hot chocolate in a desk at the height of the counter.

She makes a simple demand to her companion.

"Give up"

To whom? She knows, why her confrontation is predestined since time is time: Hope. Or at least, the closest to her holistic concept. Whether it is a mystery or not, in any case she will proceed.pasted-2026-06-06T15-27-26.pngpasted-2026-06-06T15-27-31.png

"Give me authority over faith and the God of the crosses, it can be by the good or I can take it by the bad" Cooled down, she flung the cup, drawing a brown mustache under her nose "I want and can alter the fundamental values of the human universe, going from chemical fusions in the brains to the lean mass of faith to assimilate it, returning from my authorship the devotion"

She placed the cup on the bar with a sharp knock, like a period to an exhausting conversation.

"In any case I will do it, let you choose if you want it to hurt or not~"

Faith is a byproduct of hope and faith is cradle and fuel of any God ever had and by, in synthesis, the idea and consensus of Desperation is to subjugate and assimilate conceptually the aforementioned, making use of taking the total mass of the cosmos as a hostage.
No.1454
Legrandite-29ef3c Anonymous
No.1455
Legrandite-29ef3c Anonymous
No.1456
Legrandite-29ef3c Anonymous
No.1457
Legrandite-29ef3c Anonymous
No.1458
Legrandite-29ef3c Anonymous
No.1459
Legrandite-29ef3c Anonymous
No.1460
Legrandite-29ef3c Anonymous
>>1460
>The trick he used to prevent the disappearance of this set of realities, to disable your immediate consumption of their energy, was quite low. What was visualized at the start as a final earth was actually the repetition of hundreds of earths in the same place. Thus, though unable to superimpose more realities, since he cannot extrapolate the cosmic compression you just performed, he has a time of 0.473 seconds to achieve his goal using his sword. The display of his recent emotions is a good indicator, because, based on your assumptions, he definitely should feel the damage of a God who loves and is the universe when it has been completely emptied. It is in this short lapse of time that you accessed, not a third planar set of the universe, or a realm previously determined by some being from the Beyond. In reality, it resembles much more the space from which you originally emerged, one imaginary and that could only be visualized with miraculous luck in rare hallucinations.
https://youtu.be/bmmbcQbHxUA?si=FgwdSGI6HrF4760Dce7886655a9bcb44e0a4f07f09e31475246d5280629c5a9e12fbb575d67f88a8.jpg
>During unweaving, removing the relationship between a thing and its corresponding phenomenon implies a step where you must contemplate the fundamental functioning of the process to be torn apart. Like someone who barely appreciates a sheet of paper before tearing it in half. You never have to be completely attentive to the form of things to destroy them, for, just like in the analogy of the sheet of paper, you can overlook its shape, its color, and its content, only interacting with the resistance and the material it is truly made of. Naturally, the process you initiated is not an unweaving. By applying the concept of “all the despair contained in Despair as its avatar, eternally”, such that every energy source that produced, produces, and will produce despair was also contained in a single point, you might fear having to analyze each energy source to be able to assimilate it. It is surprising to discover that, in reality, compressing the infinite into a point is something that does not require overexertion to modify physical laws. Like a fish that has lived in a pond for a long time and, upon returning to the ocean, resents the environmental change, yet is able to adapt anyway, the universe probably remembers its state as a unitary body and does not offer too much resistance. Energy cannot take a sentient form, nor could all of creation, even if you increased the scope of your threat. However, you, as an element that was everything and now exists consciously, in a time, in a form, and in a specific environment, are capable of ideally reimprinting your nature onto elements that could act as Demons. Creating a demon while being a demon is the same as making 0 become 1 without phenomenon, operation, or any intervention whatsoever; it is impossible. Nevertheless, what was generated immediately near you is not exactly something that initially constituted you. This invention of your mind functioning in delirium has an aspect not very different from yours, from Bagdeleyne’s, or from Bagoriceny’s. With a silhouette recalling the primordial Desolation, that which existed during the first Collapse and which you never remembered with a fishbowl on your head, your antithesis, the “King of Hope”, surrenders immediately. She is wet, almost completely soaked, were it not for being covered. Her boots drag a dirt difficult to remove from the floor. And according to her breathing, it seems she has been running, for indeed she is tired.
(Hope) It’s okay! I lost… You have it! (...) It’s important to me, so, please, make good use of it.
>You hesitated, a long time ago, as to whether you should or should not eliminate that generation of human-like aspect that Batenkaitos dubbed the new Bago. Through this action, Hope shows that, considering whether to eliminate Bagoriceny or not for a long time, was actually part of your nature as a demon, because, perhaps, she would be willing to truly cut it in half if necessary. Extending her hand toward you, an infinity of holy forms is generated containing the concept of faith. She detaches herself from faith without complaint and offers it to you in your hands while smiling completely confident.
No.1461
Legrandite-29ef3c Anonymous
No.1462
Legrandite-29ef3c Anonymous
>>1462
>A holy sword that cuts time and with it the future. It is truly so ineffective that a cut at a precise instant would make it appear hundreds of kilometers away according to the movement of the solar system and the Earth. Whether Hannah's plan succeeded or not, you cannot verify it, because from your limited position, Hannah cannot see or hear you during the defined time she walks.
(Hannah) I am not in agreement, Father. What fault can such a cute, heavy, and fluffy animal have?
>The atmosphere changed in a blink, and every time it changes, your perspective resets to observe Hannah from the position you were in before. That time the hospital vanished, giving way to an intensely green meadow. Hannah holds a lamb while speaking in your direction. But no matter how hard you try to respond, your presence in this environment, just as it was in the hospital, is as close as a ghost without a body being unable to interfere with reality.
(Hannah) Oh, sir. Forgive me. Forgive me. Sir, forgive me.
>She is turned away, kneeling before a sword stuck in the ground. Not only did the position of the clouds change, but also the geography. Time, moreover, seems to have passed or been skipped entirely, for unlike the blue sky, this one shows the orange sky of a possible sunset. Hannah, as she probably is accustomed to, calls out to the void, continuously begging for forgiveness while being unable to advance a single centimeter toward what should be her blessed weapon.
(Hannah) I am not in agreement, Father. What fault can such a cute, heavy, and fluffy animal have?
>It is not the same position you experienced during the first mention of those words. Hannah's expression, her innocent declaration, the way the wind moved some grass, and the way the lamb reacted to the sudden squeeze, everything was the same. It is an exact recreation of the moment you lived a moment ago, however, you remain observing Hannah not directly, but from one of the sides, from which you can briefly appreciate the silhouette of the one who was originally addressed.
(Hannah) So it's you. Sally, right?
>You are behind the nun and can only observe the hospital room based on how limited the separation is between Hannah's head and the door. On a bed, with a scarf covering her neck even in spring, Sally turns and pays attention to the one who suddenly spoke to her. To the right, you can briefly see Mercy also attending to Hannah's intrusion into the room. This is not a moment that falls into the ambiguity of the past; on the contrary, given the appearance of the sick woman, it could actually be something recent or even in the future.
(Hannah) Olive, get out.
(Olive) I-I-I...
>It's not the interior of a church, but it resembles one. If you had to guess the specific location where the catacombs exit, given Hannah's profile, it's probably the Vatican area. Behind Hannah is a girl with pink hair also dressed as a nun. Unlike Hannah's impeccable saintly appearance, the other one has bandages on her arms and looks nervous at Andronicus's bland treatment. Unlike other moments where you appeared intangible, this one lasts only a short two seconds.
(Hannah) I am not in agreement, Father. What fault could such a cute, heavy, and fluffy animal have?
(Stoddart) Hrmg. Listen, Hannah.
>It's the same moment, the same events, observing a lamb suffering a sudden, brief squeezing. This time, your viewpoint isn't on the ground, but above those two, Hannah and the church man who is apparently interrogating her. You don't have much difficulty floating like Hannah did while holding her sword, but you start to feel this position as a failure regarding renewing your place at specific points on the grass. Before focusing Hannah's attention, the man grunted in his throat adjustment.
(Hannah) Oh, sir. Forgive me.
>The black sword shines reflecting the solar rays incident from the horizon. The direct arrival of sunlight must have been partially blinding Hannah, who once again begins to lament and beg. This time, the repetition of a moment didn't just shift you in the place from which you witnessed the same thing, but also shifted you a few seconds back in time, with Hannah bending toward the ground.
(Hannah) ...
>She walks in silence again down the hospital corridor. You cannot stop the sequence of events or change anything other than your position in time or space regarding how you will witness the same thing over and over again as a third party. You still have dominion over faith, it's certain, however you are unable to fully deduce two mysteries. The first is the limit of this strange omnipresence, to what extent changing position can be visualized as a new state from which to witness new instants of time. In the worst case, a millimeter variation would mean repeating the same thing at least thousands or hundreds of thousands of times. The second is the reason why it is only Hannah who is monopolizing your attention, not just as a saint, but also as a human, and in totally irrelevant moments like a walk.
No.1463
Legrandite-29ef3c Anonymous
>>1463
<12 Hours prior:
The lethal injection for Fifi was the sentimental asepsis-to-suture process that, despite denying it, Bagdeleyne was screaming for. That afternoon, walking alone with her canine, her attention was captivated by a freak show of bisecations, rhinoplasties with the pulse of a doctor indicted for malpractice, and decapitations of secondary ingredient, all performed on artificial humans. Superficial cuts, grotesque gashes, and praiseworthy resections. The two were left to their hobbies, with the housewife rejoicing at the macabre spectacle and the dog peeing everything it can and must be peed, a transaction in which the household pet was accidentally let loose.

Infiltrating the withered passageways juxtaposed between skyscraper and skyscraper, the foolhardy dog unleashes hostilities against microscopic extra-lineal colonies. Scratching them with pawed steps, sniffing them, and licking them, multiple times, in that order. A reprimand did not wait; a few days later, when he went to water his botanical space and refill Fifi's waterer, he found it completely dying. With one foot in the grave.

—Fifi, fififi? Fifito?—

He whistled and patted his knees to get its attention, with no result. The animal exhaled and inhaled in intervals of worrying seconds, its body temperature was pitiful, and its healthy build now revealed riblets.

—Puppy...?—

He caught it in its kennel and took it to the nearest hospital. When informed that clinics exclusively treat humans, he ran to those so-called veterinary clinics. Accompanied by Bagori, they visited the agonizing Fifi hours later. They presented frantic offers: improve it genetically and cybernetically; digitize its mind in the cloud; a 1984 dystopia in the biological broth colonizing its immune system. The housewife, of course, weighed the alternative of duplicating it and transferring its essence to another clone, as far as arcane matter is concerned, in a so-called reincarnation.

However. To the housewife's horror, every single one of those hopes was rejected by her baby. When the integral salvation of Fifi's body and mind became impossible, she aborted all ideas of treatment and leaned toward the possibility of uprooting its suffering. Putting it to sleep. Sacrificing it.

The canine tragedy was a good barometer of the girl's character; do not misunderstand, she is barely five years old. All maternal care guides promised a splintering of tears from that age group, a caricatured process of the five stages of grief, and finally, the debut of miscellaneous paradigms regarding "what happens after death?" If she went through any of those stages, the housewife was unable to notice.
<Bagori
>Mami, do you remember? I wanted Fifi to sniff many other dogs.

She washed the dishes in supreme silence, pretending she hadn't buried the family pet an hour ago; in fact, if her baby hadn't brought it up, she'd probably feign dementia based on the fact and act like they never had a pet in the first place.

—How... uh, how could I not re-remember, baby—

She turned off the faucet and dried her hands on a battered apron, her hands dirty, literally and metaphorically. She would never confess that Fifi got sick partly because of her. Nothing about taking responsibility, being honest, and all that sentimental crap. She'd take it to the grave, like any responsible and functional adult.

—Baby...— She took off the apron and folded it into four, thinking about what she was going to say the same number of times she folded and smoothed the garment with her hand —If you want to cry for Fifi, I don't blame you—

The feeling of loss isn't entirely foreign to her; she can imagine that losing a pet for a child must be analogous to when Mrs. Benevento cuts in line at the supermarket, that frustrating urge to get out when you know no civilized solution is within your reach —Crying isn't bad, sometimes I cry too, when I make a mistake or miss you a lot, I feel like letting out a little cry—

Crying is healthy, natural, at least within humanoid parameters. She can't be sure if the same applies to the Beyonders. Maybe that's the case with Bagori? She doubts it partly; she knows better than anyone how much Bagori used to whine when she was a baby.

<Bagori
>He's dead. Um... But I still want him to do it.

Her desire hit her straight in the face, as if her expression had shattered and then been glued back together like a broken plate. She fell silent with a sour smile between her lips.

What was she supposed to say to comfort her? Should she tell her: "The worms will eat him, and his body fat will feed your orange tree; in summer, your ginger-orange chutney will taste twice as delicious thanks to Fifi's admirable sacrifice"? No. What if she filled her head with stories of the afterlife? Wouldn't that be just as bad or worse than the lies they used to suffocate Sally?

—Baby, I won't lie to you; I've never experienced biological death in any way. The closest I've come to it, uh, is when I finish a book or pull up a plant; both perish in your hands, and that's not bad, they simply end, they rest. Nothing can torment or harm them again; it's very similar to— She snapped her fingers a couple of times, excising the word she'd used days ago —before being born, that kind of rest—
No.1464
Legrandite-29ef3c Anonymous
No.1465
Legrandite-29ef3c Anonymous
>>1465
A sidereal desert, no less than a dead-end labyrinth, four horizons in perpetual auto-cannibalism, a ring where one of the two waits to die, in present or future; the cosmos. A naked vastness rented out as a religious gladiator pit between her and a nun whom it is hard to classify as strictly human anymore. To his eyes, she begins to brush against the divine.

pasted-2026-06-06T16-01-00.pngAccording to trial and error, I verify part of the executor's strengths and weaknesses. At first glance, she is untouchable; there is no physical phenomenon or out-of-line ability capable of reaching her, and I proved it in two distinct ways. The first was catapulting enough force to send Boston straight to hell; she didn't even get a scratch. The second was Dox's terrestrial loop, a mystic of the beyond in space-material format; again, her location was adulterated, but no other component inside or outside her organism was affected.

The few times she was affected was through collateral carnage; when pulverizing humans and stars, her form temporarily destabilized, proving a weak point at the cost of the Pleiades. The damage of the cosmos can be extrapolated to God... or to his representative? Or to the mystical art employed?

His last attempt was as fruitless as the first; with a blink, the nun retreated in her steps, giving the simple impression that she rewound a few seconds back. Ignorant to all kinds of damage. Unscathed by postponing the future or disrupting the past.

For Despair, there are four great powers to consider in the human world: brute power; the power of HR; arcane power; and judicial power. Definitely, he must reconsider the Vatican's endorsement as a new type of power.

—If it bleeds, it can die. And a wounded god is little more than a myth— One of his eyebrows sharpened, immobile on his face —What's the point, nun? You're not a divine instrument, you're not a saint, and definitely not a human god. You bleed and you suffer; nothing sets you apart from a nasty bug like me. Vomiting flowery quotes from the evangelical Bible you read at eight by Sister-Idon't-remember or Father-Idon't-care doesn't change what you are or what you allow to happen—

Really, Despair isn't an infallible mastermind with impossible flaws; he takes refuge in moral scolding, and he wouldn't care much about proving his point or digging for common ground between a messiah and a being with a general lack of respect for life. Better said, the nun is his kind of "weakness": a stubborn one without emotional gradient, immune to torment, eyes blind to doubt, and ears deaf to remorse. An soul impermeable to pain.

What does it translate to? The eminent guilt that perhaps he won't fulfill his promise to that human named Sally.
(Interest)

One genuine, in a human, the first time she excused it as resemblance to Bagori. The second time was no different. What changed with that letter? Does she truly wish to see her? Is it the desire to check if, by flaying her body fat, she can taste the point of Bagdeleyne? Of course not, it makes no sense, she doesn't even care in the first place if she comes out of this alive or not. pasted-2026-06-06T15-59-02.png

Attributing it to that rare maternal instinct is a cheap excuse... or is it? Or is it?

Simply put. She doesn't know. She doesn't know why part of her wants to keep her meeting with a little girl she knows little and nothing about.

Sally wasn't entirely wrong, paraphrasing, "she wishes to determine if it was a mistake or not that they met."

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

In the last 500 meters, the psychedelic prevails; a clumsy landing reduces a flying saucer to flaming scrap, opening a crater in the asphalt. With hands, she pushes aside space debris and local dust; little is expected of the nun taking the initiative so quickly. In the blink of an eye, she watched the Noddensian sun completely eclipsed by a rain of identical replicas of St. Peter's Basilica. Hundreds and hundreds of them crashed straight down, amassing seismic activity across that region of Thrillfair. They grind and reduce buildings, streets, and citizens to rubble, to embed a citadel of joined basilicas from landmark to panoramic landmark.

—I'm going to rip your fucking scalp off, nun, stop underesti-ackkk–

She shields her eyes with her hand, visualizing the millions of tons that will bury her the very next second. Seen from afar, she's little more than an ant obstructing an enraged mob of elephants. It's not a big deal considering the hardships her body has endured so far; she discovered that the vacuum of space poses no risk. Falling from the atmosphere a thousand times and shaving the Earth's crust another hundred barely ruffled her hair, which she's kept lush with L'Oréal sprays for the last three years. The crucial difference with past offensives is the material intervention: the Vatican nots aren't launched like projectiles, but directly replace the initial space of Desperation, pushing her hundreds of times until she hits the subsurface. Fortunately, Hannah isn't Lesuer, and Lesuer isn't Hannah; who knows how long it would take to recover from being mutilated into pieces by city-states manifesting spontaneously in every fiber of her body.

And as if the above wasn't insulting enough, she... escapes. She feels it from that rare gravitational sound she incorporated after devouring some stars. She gains momentum and heads in the opposite direction. That was the straw that broke the camel's back.
No.1466
Legrandite-29ef3c Anonymous
No.1467
Legrandite-29ef3c Anonymous
>>1467
Opposite, interdependent, and antithetical poles, born from the same ontological womb and nourished by a symbiotic relationship. Every face, smile, and grimace of horror mirrors a part of them. Quoting a deceased agent; despair is equivalent to the force of hope. Therefore, despite all the pain of admitting it, she was the object of the greatest hunger for answers on the part of Hope. At the level of "the meaning of life," in the human case.pasted-2026-06-06T16-05-04.png

https://youtu.be/3CSg4fXEJCA?si=e7bWX6QOu5vgHrTS
A muscle contracted in her cheek, exposing teeth in an involuntary rictus. Furious, she choked on her own venom, slow to relax as two rows of sanctified figures and angelic silhouettes finally manifested, finally relaxing her expression, loosening her fists, and fixing her gaze on the trade that gathered them today: Faith.

With arms forward, she offered no resistance or double intentions, to Despair's disbelief; she debited the faith into her hands with absolute transparency. With a petty slap, she snatched it away, adopting the most portable and faithful vision of the demon regarding that concept: a miniature crucifix, suspended on a platinum chain. Immediately after being delivered, the pendant hung from her neck.

The first impressions didn't make her feel very different. Would it be like having a contract with an enigma? Sooner or later she would discover it, as she gradually became aware that the half-full cup of chocolate was emitting an increasingly vivid scene. She rubbed her eyes, ensuring it wasn't all a product of the severe brain damage she had inflicted upon herself, and could confirm it when even the jukebox track joined in, providing audio to the scene that mirrored across every reflective surface.

Hannah pulverizing a skirmish of walls, trampling a human body to the point of evaporating it and reaching her destination, Bagdeleyne, or at least a barely future version of herself. Unprepared, she probably didn't have enough time to even modulate a scream; the blade plunged and buried itself without difficulty into her chin, traced a visceral path through her mouth, and was expelled through the back of her skull. Mutilated, she spat out her tongue, half-chewed, unconscious; a scarlet mouthful filled her cheeks, with blood gushing from all her facial orifices like a broken snack vending machine, in gushes.

An inclement, relentless execution, with many more praises starting with "in." For a second, the Demon wonders if all her victims felt the same kind of emotions when impaled or cut by her... that... that... helplessness.
Seeing Batenkaitos by her side, the demon noticed tears wetting her skin, real tears, those that arise from the deepest depths. No, it wasn't Despair lamenting, not entirely. The Demon had always been willing to be a victim of a horrible death... at least that was the case years ago, now, with repulsive emotional connections, with people she shares her time with. She isn't entirely sure.

Maybe Bagdeleyne lied. Maybe she fears death or the kind of people that could be taken from her. Maybe.

—Bellisimo, she pierced the flesh perfectly, in an exact parallel, leaving no room for any kind of countermeasure. If I were biologically male, the nun would have my flesh positively turgid. Nothing more, nothing less—

She opines, wiping away more tears with her fingers. It's the only certainty accompanying her for the moment; that sword was employed perfectly, without a shred of hesitation, with more than enough strength to grant her the death necessary to wither a life.

—Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh...... I want to see Bagori—she murmured.

A hope escaped her lips; the demon's satisfied face turned grim. If Bagdeleyne is already an odious limitation, she is three times so when she gets sentimental and influences her mood. She recycles those feelings to recapitulate the persistent disgust she feels for hope.

The deal was done; in exchange for faith and her God of crosses, the contract with the human universe officially expired. She took a deep breath and wiped her watery eyes for the third time; her mind began to oxygenate, expelling her from the ethers of her mindpasted-2026-06-06T16-05-31.png

<Hope
>I wonder how many lives you'll have to know before you give up.

—.....—

She prefers to keep her words to herself; after all, she won.

Yes, she won.

She repeats it to herself without fully swallowing her lie. Who and what is she supposed to have won?

The God of crosses bends, settling the answer.

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤
https://youtu.be/5cMzp0Sm5UE?si=QdZ_kmfsYXLIyMKh
To err is human, to forgive is divine. And to kill, of demons.

And more pseudo-intellectual phrases from Bagdeleyne's Facebook.

At first, she contemplated the compatibility with the concept of faith, treating it as a phenomenon born from the tension between hopes and despairs, an act of belief originating from the ups and downs of human life; she believed manipulating it would pose no difficulty whatsoever.

Then why hasn't she returned to her damn avatar yet? Even more importantly, why is she forced to be a passive actor in the nun's autobiography!?

She didn't overlook the fact that the traditional laws of existence ceased to apply to her; floating suspended in the air, she is a participant, among many quotation marks, in disconnected situations starring Hannah. Far from the Epnion clinic and close to a rural countryside plain, Hannah cradles an harmless lamb in her arms; Bagdeleyne had heard of that once: The scapegoat.
No.1468
Legrandite-29ef3c Anonymous
>>1468
Desperation wonders the opposite of Hannah: why does it take so long to sacrifice him? That a living being is cute or not doesn't exempt it from being cut; blades are impartial, they don't discriminate, they don't distinguish between flower and weed. Bagdeleyne, on the other hand, wonders the same thing as Hannah: what fault can such a cute, heavy, fluffy animal have? It reminds her of little Fifi, whom she brought home for Bagori's fourth birthday.

Soon Desperation discovers how similar her current status is to the imprisoned form of repressed desires into which she transmutes when Bagdeleyne takes command, being a third party with zero influence in the world.

—No—

Even with that example in mind, she is far from any resemblance; even in those situations she never ceases to be part of Bagdeleyne and vice versa. She feels, savors, sees, desires, and experiences on equal footing with the housewife. Trapped in that loop, she cannot employ any of her senses outside of sight; everything is beyond her incorporeal reach, akin to a ghost.pasted-2026-06-06T16-07-07.png

One of two things: either she finally went insane, or she is now some kind of pathetic superior existence. She prefers to lean toward the first.

–I have no mouth and I must scream–

Yep, at least in that aspect she is identical to being lobotomized by Bagdeleyne.

In the blink of an eye, the location and those involved succumb to another scenario, one even more familiar: the EPNION hospital facilities, specifically Sally's room. There, the aforementioned and Mercy await the nun. The presence of the girl triggers a feeling on the face of the childish version of the Demon; she stands agape, once again invaded by a stabbing pang of regret in her chest... Seeing Sally, she can't help but think of Bagori: will she be safeguarded from the Vatican? Will her absence hurt the girl?

–Pfftt, hahaha, almost I believed it–

For the second time, Desperation compulsively reproaches that knot in her chest to the housewife: why, in what context, for what reason would she miss that girl? It's not a matter of logic or illogic; it's vainly useless. Just like not finishing strangling Sally. Just like Hannah's pity. Just like Mercy's guilt. Just like Dox's faith. It's the meager error of all individuals and non-individuals, something that only she and, she intuits, Hannah, comprehended: Love, that great equalizer, dismembers us all, without distinction. The demon is the living example. Love humanizes everything; it is no less than a cancer that grows unchecked, and by the time you realize it, it has gained so much ground that it now forms part of your very self.
♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

Claustrophobic architectures, with crenellated Ionic columns. For a few short seconds, a nun with rose-colored hair becomes the victim of Hannah's rejection. Despair says not a word, continuing to study her parole with arms crossed. She gradually lost attention to details after looping for the third time from a wild field gilded by the evening sunset to another hospital corridor, until she even dared to paraphrase the nun a couple of times with her stupid:

–Lucy, Lucy, Lucy, Lucy– With no effect.

Obstinate in swapping the properties of faith for sheer willpower, she got stuck between dawns and dusks for three interminable hours, until the last drop of patience evaporated, she reconsidered other exits.

If she remembers correctly, according to humans, her God of the crosses excels in more than one realm. He can do everything, see everything. Omnipresent and omnipotent, within what fits in a human universe. Despair would categorize her current circumstances as a kind of extremely rare omniscience, strictly related to the nun, which is why she wants to test varying a small aspect, a quality of God: Omniform.

She orchestrates a plan to coincide with Olivia for the fiftieth time, fixing her attention on a particular object, on something that anchors her in time and space. And that thing will be the nun's direct connection to God, her contract. She doesn't know the remote functioning or capabilities of faith or the human God; all are assumptions and implications. She doubts even being able to imbue or merge with an imaginary object to establish a fixed thread of events. Her few certainties are her prior knowledge and the infallible mysticism of the beyond.

–Imaginary Contract: Despair-Bagdeleyne ≠ Yhwh-Elohim = Hannah Cade Andronicus-Divine Weapon–

Basically, replace in time and space the contract made between God and the Nun to polarize it to: Despair-God? Lustful, by far depraved: Despair total? Repetitive. With a pending name for her contract with a human, she includes herself in the power-sharing relationship between God and Hannah, granting her her abilities in that hypothetical past.
No.1469
Chrysoberyl-3baf4d Anonymous
>>1469
>Background radiation. Even when tuning into a grand television from the Beyond, the default static is that vast soup of gray scales, sounding infinitely, sometimes annoyingly, sometimes pleasantly, but never pertinently. After the birth of Hunger and War, He has ceased to be so strict regarding His important duties in the Beyond. Not necessarily because He needs to care for His children directly; He is a virtually unpredictable creature, just as His capabilities tend to be. You probably forgot this because He remained stable for several years simply complaining about humans, beyondlings, and other beings alike, but the reality is that even from those quotes, His nature is not fully defined. He has developed a much deeper passion for audiovisual arts than the one you recognized long ago with human music and poetry. It hasn't arrived in time, because it coincided exactly with another member of your family's craving to consume movies and TV series. For a couple of days, both Hunger and the Baron have spent quality father-daughter time watching non-stop random episodes of The Twilight Zone, Doctor Who, The Children of Sim, and for some reason, The Flying Nun. It is very different being a housewife when you have to take care of a single nine-year-old girl versus taking care of half a family occupying space for an extended period throughout the day. Normally you would have plenty of time to do any other housewife activity with no idea of life, but for now your life is simply and straightforwardly summarized. It is much better when someone takes the initiative and sets out to learn, both how to cook and feed your sister and how to argue with your husband in deep conversations about the Beyond and the human world that you would hardly have in your current state. Upon War's arrival in the main hall, the one who can most celebrate His presence, in the absence of Bagoriceny, is Hunger. She takes an excessive amount from the silver platter.
(Hunger) Oh, snacks!
(War) I do not understand. What fun can there be in the video of my birth? It is a bloody fact, without value or meaning. Everyone should focus much more on themselves, as individuals.pasted-2026-06-06T16-12-39.png
(Baron) Get OUT of the way, kid! The best part is coming!
>As soon as the video tapes ran out, it was the servants' job to bring more, even if it meant doing so inside the house and making a mistake. There was no reason they should have a recording of Guerra's birth, yet it seems the baron had prepared it long ago, right after Hambre was vomited out without warning. Among the beings of the Beyond, the creation of individuals is limited to the other world; however, when one is born in the human world, it is so conspicuous that even Batenkaitos takes an interest. It is this very interest that reignites once he learns that, through human means, the same process of Guerra's tentacular formation can be replayed image after image. Guerra, your son, grew at the same pace as Hambre did back then, so within just a couple of months he already had the body of a human teenager. However, unlike the incidents that characterized Hambre's entry into the family, Guerra has been far more cautious regarding his relationships with Hambre, Bagoriceny, his father, or even you. He is slightly distant, much smarter and more strategic, yet he does not hide when he deems it necessary to offer a sharp opinion. Unlike Hambre, who inherently remains an invisible skeleton no matter how many mechanical parts he wears, Guerra is more than just a human body. Sometimes his legs are suddenly replaced by tentacles, and he slides like Batenkaitos would. He has not shown a demonic power similar to what Hambre displayed in critical situations, and it is precisely for that reason that Batenkaitos likely still treats him as a pawn of unproven value.
(....)
>Going to therapy has helped their relationship, not immediately, but at least now Batenkaitos acts with a thin layer of respect that he uses both to praise your cooking and to send or force you to carry out tedious or unpleasant missions around his company or himself. A being from the Beyond who acts and looks like a dog will not change, even if you use all of Pavlov's methodology to your advantage; he possesses consciousness and intelligence similar or equal to a human's. Under that premise, what Dr. Delgado is attempting is far more demanding than simply trying to improve their relationship based on human standards. She does not exploit the human feelings her husband supposedly had once she identified them; she does not bring them to light or amplify them in any way to make her work easier. She simply lets be, for an hour and forty-five minutes, both Him and you equally. The recording initially seemed like one made by phones from the early past decade, but as soon as an amoeba from the Beyond appeared on camera and assimilated the device, the quality instantly improved. The view is from above; from that plane, the positions of Delgado, Batenkaitos, and you are clearly observed, properly spaced for a conversation. The first details might come from their heads: Delgado's and yours, barely tiltable and unchanging, while Batenkaitos's play with the fact of having a three-dimensional view.
No.1470
Chrysoberyl-3baf4d Anonymous
>>1470
>It was not the moment for a dozen eyes to watch the camera, because when the recording started, Delgado seemed to be patiently waiting for a response from the demigod. He closed his eyes, growled, blinked a few times toward the recording tube, and then refocused to respond in the manner the therapist had stipulated. Although by the time of the recording, and even to this day, you may have gone through many sessions with Delgado, Batenkaitos still doesn't seem to let go of the resentment or general annoyance when suggested to be intervened every week or two by this kind of complex human. He left a clear message in his words.
(Baron) I... I feel... a fool for not finishing the extermination work of human ideals on the other side of the portal. I COULD have performed better by combining and gluing slime meat. And being able to eliminate more senile old women's minds by sending them to dementia.
(Dr. Delgado) Credible or not, that's progress. What about you, Bagdeleyne? Can you construct a sentence using your emotional "I"? I understand that for you it will be much easier to reveal some secret or feeling from the past-
>It's a system too simple to express your emotions, but for that very reason it's also slow and requires unconscious caution. Delgado is an expert at catching certain salient details in the words of Batenkaitos or you, skillful at using them in her own words at precise moments, and then explaining them as a psychologist would, describing what you feel or don't feel. The presence of Despair deep inside your mind is something she has noticed exactly with these tactics, and although she hasn't mentioned it directly, she seems to be widely preparing the ground to converse with it or at least know its opinion through you. As for secrets and incomplete feelings from the past, both you and your bloodlust share the same body, knowledge, and memories. The Bagdeleyne who lived through that, the one you see on the tape, must have considered certain memories for a few seconds, but was unable to respond. In an interval of 0.000001 seconds, an interval shorter than Bagdeleyne can catch, and even less when you're focused on therapy, destruction suddenly loomed. The wall, the window, the pictures, and the sofas were destroyed; following that destruction, the immediate splatter of blood erupted from a Dr. Delgado who was turned into pulp in an instant. In the video you can only see blurry frames of pure light and dust, but once you had to live through it, you could describe it easily. An atypical figure standing in the middle of the room, a glowing human holding a weapon similar to a sword, then a rapid-fire recitation that could only be deciphered by Dissatisfaction or another demon poured into details, and finally pain. A bladed weapon sliced your neck, entered your throat, tore out your tongue making it impossible for you to speak for a moment, and finally rushed to make a huge wound in the center of your brain. The damage was so great that your head barely hung by half the flesh in your neck and the spine attached to it. The blood was immense, especially considering that your inertia reaction was to briefly spin backward, clearing a free path between the air and the hole you now had in your central nervous system.
(Baron) WHO THE HELL WAS IT! I SAW YOU. HORRIBLE CREATURE, HUMAN-... honey?
>He immediately switched to an attack form, showing himself furious. He identified that thing as a human but couldn't identify its exit. And before He screamed, that entity was already completely gone, illuminating the entire room so that Delgado appeared rebuilding cell by cell and the building returned to normal, repairing itself as if time were running in reverse. The damage, however, was not repaired by that light.
No.1471
Chrysoberyl-3baf4d Anonymous
>>1471
>For you, having your head nearly severed by an unknown force was unthinkable. The incomplete torrent of information was becoming increasingly difficult to decipher in your state, and the fact that you did not regenerate immediately only accentuated the irritating and desperate nature of the situation. The light did not return entirely from where it came; instead, it lingered a bit closer to you for a moment, so that when your head was open, part of your interior briefly touched the surface of that glow. What followed felt like the worst migraine in the world, so that as soon as the unnatural illumination ended and you could regenerate, part of the material that was supposed to be your spine took the opportunity to completely detach from your half-severed body. Taking a couple of neck bones with it, a protruding mass of gray matter and blood fell to the floor, leaving a strange stain on the sofa before it did. Down there it began to form; you couldn't see or feel it due to the agony of the instantaneous cut, but in slow motion, it's clear how that part of you began to grow. As if exploding a thousand and one hundred times more, the flesh didn't grow in the usual way; it strained against itself, exceeding its elasticity limit before finally breaking and growing through sheer rupture. Batenkaitos observed this, and before lunging to destroy the window again and conveniently causing collateral damage to the therapist as well, he turned his attention to your labor. The thing growing on the floor didn't just explode in blood and muscle on its own; it also generated certain flashes of light that, instead of emitting, absorbed the environment and concentrated, creating countless focused beams. As it grew more and more, developing a tentacle that supported 80% of the internal explosions of its mass, the thing crushed your tongue on the floor with that tentacle. Destroyed on the room's floor, it seemed its only desire was to
(-) I will take revenge, mother. No matter what, no matter how. I will take revenge on everyone who ever tried, succeeded, or even imagined they could harm you. For you, Bagdeleyne, Bagoriceny... Sally. I will do it even if I have to cause a-pasted-2026-06-06T16-13-59.png
>War. The calamity sprang from your head, your blood, an interrupted conversation, just as it was born from a divine light and a wound that should have been fatal. Unlike Hunger, which formed as a human baby adapted to be held in your hands, War grew from the ground, taking the appearance of a child. Its flesh never ceased destroying itself; when it formed more complex biological structures to rise, speak, form a face, and speak with a final judgment, War began to increase the rate of internal ruptures. The frequency with which it broke itself apart and reinforced itself was so great that it ceased to be observable to you, perhaps even to the Baron. The tentacles he formed at the base of his body emerged to anchor himself on the unstable, blood-soaked ground from which he was born; his upper human body, however, grew only to denote immediate hatred. Distinct from protection, distinct from suffering, what War swore to do immediately was justice. He mentioned his mother's name, his sister's, indicating that he genuinely tore part of your memories and your brain in the process. He also mentioned a name that should have been unknown to everyone in this room. And while War swore, the Baron took care to analyze what had happened. You were already recovering completely from the damage, so in response to such a profound impact, a mark appeared on your neck that completely encircled it like an armored seal. Batenkaitos stopped paying you much more attention and noticed that the semi-human creature that emerged was exactly the kind of offspring he desired. After expressing himself as you had never seen him before, he set out on a sacred task.
(Baron) Tentacles, eyes, intelligence—it's a Baron. It's a Baron, Ninth! I always wanted to do this. CIRCUMCISION. (...) Listen, calamity, you are of trans-lineal descent, and that means you have the option to be religious if you so desire. Like your father, the decision I make now is entirely arbitrary. Let's see... a human foreskin...
(Dr. Delgado) Stop! No circumcisions in this room. W-we're in therapy!
>He slid tentacles to part between tentacles, then Batenkaitos created an extremely sharp limb, with countless tiny blades, as if crafted for a specific cutting task. He determined he must find and cut part of the penis of the creature that had just been born. Despite how incredibly precise his words were and his so certain expression of hatred, War remained ignorant of what Batenkaitos's words or actions pointed to. And finally, when He prepared to deliver a speech before achieving the circumcision, you saw Dr. Delgado be the first to react to the instant negligence born from your husband's strange fixation on his offspring. Apparently, that would have been enough to stop Batenkaitos, for now. All things considered, her words were correct and widely considered War's decision for the future, not necessarily chaining him to the customs of the Beyond. The recording ended, and the screen returned to the initial static from which everything had emerged.
No.1472
Chrysoberyl-3baf4d Anonymous
>>1472
>War is sitting on the same couch shared by Hunger and Batenkaitos, though slightly farther from the two of them. He does not repeat the words he swore at the beginning; you would later learn that, since his awakening, they were completely unknown to him. Whether it is his expression or the impression of your unconscious upon his substance, it is a fact that your son is not a mass of vengeful hatred, nor is he reactive or self-harming. Batenkatos's laughter is strange, as if a group of engines coordinated to completely switch the type of fuel they use and reacted abruptly, strongly, and uniquely in an instant. Hunger is not as exalted as He, but she is effectively content. At most, what this video can generate in that calamity is a brief smile that accepts the amusement of those around her, without belittling War or fully assisting the Baron. At the question of whether she was paying attention to the best part of the video tape, Hunger shows a certain tact.
(Hunger) Of course I heard it, daddy. "Revenge, death" I think that's important for mom. It wouldn't be very good if you hurt her sensitivity.
(Baron) Blehhg
>Immediately the Baron complained, spitting out an entire piece of butter that began to melt over the stacked VHS boxes. If it's important to you, probably also to War, from Hunger's perspective. It is at this moment, watching the black-and-white screen while tilting her head to the side, that Hunger finally reacts. She stands up, leaving zero pressure from her hollow body on the seat, and begins to carefully inspect her limbs. She has grown into a young lady who would surpass Bagoriceny in appearance, acting and speaking in a way that also contributes to that image, but the truth is she is incredibly someone with rebellious tendencies. You have no doubt that the presence of cybernetics from the underground city of Nod is her great and own decision, one of which she can feel proud of, after a long time dealing with herself and her great cravings. As a being generally affectionate toward her siblings, it is no surprise that Hunger is admired by Bagoriceny or by War to the same level. The very incarnation of desperate conflict demonstrates this as she leaves her static position and finally directs a question to someone.
(Guerra) Will you return to work, sister?
(Hunger) Definitely, they're waiting for me. They can't do anything without me! Just as I can't do anything without this job. Don't drive anyone crazy in my absence, "heir", understood?
>Mechanical arms aren't great at handling tentacles or hair gently; in that case, Hunger would prefer using her slender natural fingers to dote on her brother, but it's a fact that she has already calibrated her body correctly to leave the house. Guerra received his sister's metallic dismissal expressionlessly, while the Baron refused her cold contact and only gave indications on how to properly annihilate someone if extreme measures were necessary during his duties. Your husband is like that; when it comes to work or dealing with others, he prefers to be merely careful with his integrity and even more so with his own and that of his offspring. The nickname "heir" ought to be more than just a nickname for Guerra, since he immediately follows Batenkaitos's existence; probably the same Baron is constantly forcing succession and privilege as a way of life before his power dilutes into Guerra. While Hunger bids you farewell in the most appropriate way given your situation, Guerra and Batenkaitos are starting a conversation. To the terrible intro song of chapter 21 of the Flying Nun, Batenkaitos is addressing the topic of Guerra's name. The Baron's proposals are quickly rejected by Guerra with a single denial.
(Baron) I gave her the name, ▢▢▢▢▢▢▢▢▢▢, it means humanitarian crisis, collective resilience, and dispossession. Boy, what do you think of "Bagironevus" or "Gabortelune"? I got it, "Baggati the shark"!
(Guerra) No.
No.1473
Chrysoberyl-3baf4d Anonymous
>>1473
One year ago
>For five minutes, you watched Hannah Cade's back as a fixed camera while she climbed a mountain in silence. But, contrary to the expressionlessness she showed in battle or that you know from past visions, the Hannah walking this path is far more reactive and emotional than any other you've known, stopping to look at some flowers, insects, and finally gazing in the distance at cattle being guided by other nuns like her. You can assume you're in the Northern Hemisphere, both from the morning sun's position and the appearance of European-style buildings around. But no matter how much you observe, you can't pinpoint the exact date of this vision, or whether the Hannah before you is as young as she appears. It's impossible to feel the sun's heat or the wind's breeze given the way you're observing all this, but, as far as you can infer from the sounds, the movement of everything, and Hannah's own state, aside from the long journey, it seems to be pleasant weather. On the exaggerated mound of earth stands the person who was supposed to meet Hannah, Father Stoddart. He looks like an old priest, his medium-length but gray hair superficially covering his aged face. Stoddart's stay with the large flock of sheep behind him remains exactly the same for several minutes. If you were to fast-forward this vision quickly, you'd realize he hasn't moved many steps since appearing before Hannah. Unfortunately, fast-forwarding or affecting time is something you haven't accessed and seems impossible to access since you can only observe. A chase of Hannah by one of these young animals, her notable sensitivity when having to pick it up and claim the priest for having chosen questionable livestock to be sacrificed, all happens so you can return to the start of the conversation with Hannah holding the creature in her hands. When it seemed the moment was about to end and without realizing it you were about to revisit a repeated and scratched memory of Hannah, Stoddart finally continues his words. He didn't wait for Hannah or you to say them; you simply blinked into another moment just to hear him. But what follows his words is a talk about God.
(Stoddart) Hrmg. Listen, Hannah. God sees everything, feels everything, at all times. He is aware of our actions and decisions, even our doubts. He can determine for every person and creature, even within your thoughts. That is how it is, always, in a loving way. That is what you have learned.
(Hannah) Uhum... Humans can have his forgiveness.
(Stoddart) You felt the weight and softness of the lamb. But you also felt the warmth of its fur and the beating of its heart. You are aware of how this animal, in the future, will feed other needy ones. However, you simplified its qualities to save it.
>A still nervous Hannah listens to Stoddart's words. It is not a concept you are unaware of. In the past, the group of the Thirteen Kings declared war on the divine kingdom, for some reason. It was not very convenient for the overall image the group presented over the days when New Jerusalem was liberated, and thus Depravation retracted. But the fact is that humans believe in a being that is present at all times, in all forms. In the situation you are in, given the randomness with which you were treated previously regarding how you saw Hannah walking through halls or climbing stairs in the Vatican, you may be present at all times, in one way or another. That does not change the fact that your form is unique, for the moment, and movement and intervention are extremely limited. Hannah accepts the definition Stoddart gives her of God's capabilities and presence, even his loving nature. She discreetly added, perhaps replicating something she heard from other nuns or church people, to try to gain points regarding the liberation of the animal. But, immediately, Stoddart made various indications. He exposed Hannah, so that it was not necessary to be a divinity to read between her thoughts. As a human or as a superhuman, Hannah has access to all kinds of information about this animal having it in her hands. Applying the necessary context, Stoddart suggests that she has been ignoring much of the animal intentionally.
(Stoddart) God has felt that, and much more. Contrary to human judgment, divine judgment contemplates everything. He has considered the value of that creature and has considered your feelings for life, just as he has considered the evil, death, and hunger necessary throughout the world. We can never find or even approach the correct answer, to understand his decision. But, we can and do everything possible to suffer and beg for his forgiveness when we fail. That is the path.
No.1474
Chrysoberyl-3baf4d Anonymous
>>1474
(Hannah) I see... I don't...
>He laid out the conventional view many believers hold regarding supposed divine intervention in human affairs, applied to the situation Hannah wants to eliminate entirely. This conversation, along with the release of the lamb in her hands, was meant to occur without intervention but with great consideration of it. When the lamb reached the ground, held halfway by Hannah, it had to face the task of walking again to rejoin the great flock. With trembling legs, the animal rose to accomplish this. Both the heaviness, the gentleness, and the sense of protection it offered to others meant nothing once she let it go, for regardless of the condition, whether she released it now or in the next 20 or 30 minutes, the animal would still pursue the same goal: to follow the flock. Hannah's response wasn't entirely a lie, considering she has lived much of her life—or almost her entire life—at the mercy of religion; the word of an authority like Stoddart should have been enough for her to vindicate herself and begin apologizing. The expressions Hannah showed after releasing the lamb and then claiming to align with Stoddart's decision were a range unknown from her past or future versions. The Hannah who walks without turning her gaze in the hallways is too rigid, while the one who climbs the mountains is exclusively innocent. What Hannah demonstrates now is doubt, both when she hides part of her blonde hair behind her veil and when she hesitates before stating what she denies about herself before finally falling silent. Stoddart's gaze shows that he has indeed identified that doubt, but rather than pushing her back with other words of divine-human usage, he lets her express herself freely. It would have been simple for him, after the lesson, to simply send her back to the hypothetical convent at the end or to her activities in the fields, but the priest probably didn't allow it. What Hannah does is a common development in the debate about eradicated evil; she bases herself on specific examples that would widely denote said problem.pasted-2026-06-06T16-17-12.png
(Hannah) Should...? Should there be lives just to be trampled? Without the ability to scream or imagine they could ask for help?
>He claimed, bringing his left hand to hold his opposite forearm, over his veil. She does not press firmly, distancing herself from the feeling of his words, perhaps demonstrating that her expression is not so much a call for justice, but perhaps only a criticism. As a demon, you cannot infer human feelings regarding the contradiction of her religion; to you, such inventions are just like a belief system to make man work or perform activities for others, for their dead and their hope. However, even before the Collapse, or during the stay of Nod or New Jerusalem, suffering has existed indistinctly in all regions of the planet. People who cannot defend themselves against situations of scarcity, or wars, values of life much more important than the existence or non-existence of a little lamb regarding humanity. The way to argue for such, for Hannah, is by analogizing them with the lamb incapable of doing anything other than showing weakness before others, before humans and those of its species. The omnipresence you are currently experiencing, after snatching away rights of faith from hope, after completely assimilating the energy of this plane, suggests that indeed, in your divine situation you will experience the vision of a Hannah in miserable moments, those in which she could not even imagine being saved, no matter if it is a Hannah threatened by something she knows of nothing or a Hannah who prays continuously without any change before her environment or her sword. The trampled lives are exactly the type of existence that Sally would have, for example, in that she has to ignore the appearance of a null miracle the years she has remained sick. After all, without your appearance, she would never have visualized or at least witnessed the problem that suggests having a mindset like hers, incapable of screaming or imagining that she could ask for help. As Hannah continues asking, her eyes shine in an instant and tears begin to form at the edges of her eyelids, small enough that she can continue speaking or listening without realizing or having to worry about them soon. Stoddart does not respond immediately; he, on the contrary, makes a counter-question to inquire into Hannah's opinion. Because, certainly, even though she has her doubts, the mere fact that she released the lamb to the teachings of the priest demonstrates that Hannah agreed with him at a certain point. She herself notes it when she has to lower her head to confirm.
(Stoddart) Do you believe in the value of sacrifice?
(Hannah) Of course. That's what you wanted me to understand, right?
>Sacrifice is valuable, even for a demon like you. You can attribute value to the life of Bagoriceny, therefore, you cannot eliminate it without the necessary reason for it. It is the same for the beings of the Beyond who hardly sacrifice their mystical arts or their vitality unless it is to obtain more of the same or to gain power. With a slightly different case for Doxia, he was even willing to sacrifice himself for someone he loves. You are not like Hope, who granted you the dominion of Faith without a second's doubt that it would be the right thing or something bad for her. That is why the existence you developed in an imaginary way, in total delirium, was so noticeable as unnatural and strange.
No.1475
Chrysoberyl-3baf4d Anonymous
No.1476
Chrysoberyl-3baf4d Anonymous
>>1476
>The conversation implicitly revealed Hannah's superhuman condition, as well as her possible devout training based on strange faith practices. It seems that by patiently repeating the events you were about to observe, sooner or later you could find the secret of her material appearance, the divine capability of her sword, or her invulnerability condition linked to the universe. After 4 hours and 4 minutes, starting to have a body means worrying about your spatial stability. For example, until now you were just a fixed observer in Hannah, all her expressions, her movements, and her general appearance all at the same instant. But as soon as you take part in a place in the scene, you stop being able to observe; the other side of Hannah when you see her in profile, or you might stop seeing her when objects pass through your field of vision. Because you are in this divine loop, you can assume that the task to be done is to observe, the first thing you did, and not performing that task corresponds to a punishment or many other repetitions. Fortunately, the succession of moments is completely random and there doesn't seem to be a rule forcing you to reinterpret the same moment over and over for eternity, something like that would be improbable. And regarding your free but intangible position, you could do a couple of things like moving at constant speeds, limited by light, just by thinking, in different directions and even at different electromagnetic scales to read the facts. Observing Hannah from the head or with half your body passing through the ceiling or the floor seems irrelevant, because the only thing that changes from blink to blink is your initial position. Unlike an individual simulation, like that of a simple point, you can not only observe Hannah but also the world surrounding her pasted-2026-06-06T16-19-19.png in real time. A meter away from her, ten, even kilometers away from Hannah and still Nod works as if what is being presented is a faithful recreation of the past without any kind of error. Still, no matter how far you are from Hannah, minutes of light away from her or on the other side of the world observing Chinese workers in factories, what she hears is what you hear, and it overlays what your intangible avatar hears. At short distances, sound frequencies combine and coordinate instantly so you only have to listen to a single Hannah speaking or those around her, but as soon as you move away, Hannah's senses seem to begin, if not take over, coexisting with yours in real time. The creature in front of Hannah is an alien, a small one with a face and voice cute and silly enough for her to partially ignore its calculation errors and strange intentions. The chubby-looking being points with one of its three fingers and performs a natural sequence in the absence of a couple of important numbers within the first eight. The place you blinked to after Hannah's conversation with the priest was one that summarized Hannah's common workspace in Nod, under an agency she revealed to you as secret.
(Aglioxiloma) I can do math. 1, 2, 3, 5, 6, 8. Call me if you ever want to destabilize the state economy. Want to destabilize the economy with me, miss?
(Mercy) Aa-ah. How did you get in here!?
>The headquarters of Gemini's main offices in Nod are located in Nod Issel-Sarexuglactrella; it was supposed to be a high-floor office, but the moment Hannah and whoever you assumed were her companions crossed the threshold, the distance you traveled was instantaneous. From a high floor of a building to the immediate lower level filled with gardens and many plants bordering a park, while Hannah makes portal jumps within Nod, it seems you also did so with the sole purpose of observing. Mapping GEMINI's function network must have been far more complicated than diving deep or high into the clouds that hide the League's infrastructure. Among the internal portals you could identify for the Gemini organization are: a room connecting the interior of a building resembling a medieval castle or with that aesthetic, then the internal cabin of a helicopter and its respective doors to the abyss over Nod, and finally the interior of a labyrinthine mansion with an oriental appearance in what should also be an Asian land outside Nod. Naturally, entry and exit to Nod is limited to team members, meaning there is great secrecy regarding which creatures are listed as patrolling Gemini's base. Five minutes passed since you saw Hannah enter these facilities, greet some of her companions with their broad seriousness and expressionlessness, until she had to meet said alien. Hidden among the leaves of a nearby potted plant, Aglioxiloma surprises Mercy so much that she stumbles back and immediately releases blood, as if executing a blood technique. Just as Sally had said, Mercy is a very important defense agent, maybe not as much as the nun who pushed you toward universal assimilation, but she seems to share time and space with Hannah regularly, based on their interactions. Doxia knew the nun, and Sally knew Mercy; their connection and your connection to this organism, Gemini, were separated by only a couple of links. While Mercy deals with the picturesque hidden guest, receiving enough explanations not to attack, you can see a strange homunculus or masalline skeleton approaching to converse with Hannah.
No.1477
Chrysoberyl-3baf4d Anonymous
>>1477
(Jerry) Doesn't it seem awesome, Hannah? Math isn't his strong suit, but I bet he's way better at the other stuff. Hayes hired him as the team's official assistant. Even though he looks useless and is fundamentally useless, he gives the team a fresh vibe. Not bad for an alien!
(Hannah) The aliens declared eternal spiritual war on us...
>He's a curious creature, about two meters tall. Jerry the skeleton is completely hollow, yet he can still talk. Apparently, the resonance that creates his voice originates in his teeth, which is why his voice sounds so unique. Many other aliens take on similar forms that they find attractive in the human world; this could be the possibility for this one. However, what invalidates that theory is that Jerry has no distinguishing features from the other world on his body—no extra limbs, no hole for a third eye, nothing like that. As a completely human-origin skeleton, he has advantages and certain conveniences when it comes to manipulating elements inside this office. Hannah mentions, probably dismissing her trust in the little Aglioxiloma, portrays facts about his race. You don't know this type of alien, even if this vision is set in the past; the condition of many alien species can, overnight, become completely extinct or vanish from the map due to low population. But unlike Hannah, the skeleton Jerry is extremely permissive and exudes great self-confidence. As he takes a different direction from Hannah and approaches a nearby kitchen, crossing a black-and-white rock bar, Hannah follows him slowly. She questions the creature, not as a human, not as an otherworldly being, and certainly not as an arcane entity that might not even find space in Gemini. Despite Jerry's naturalness, what should have been obvious to Hannah strangely wasn't; she asked about Jerry's true body—that is, the person controlling it.
(Hannah) Where is your body, bone technique?
(Jerry) Bone technique! He called me bone technique. God, I thought I explained that before. I exist as my own person. I'm more Jerry than Jerry, more Jerry than Harlen. But speaking of Harlen, I have no idea where he is. He must be having a good time. Want dinner?
>It's an existence that appears extremely benevolent, for two reasons: first, it cooks without having any need to eat itself, doing so solely for its companions. And second, recalling your experience with humans who wield blood, bone, or muscle techniques, the existence of such techniques suggests they are not permanent but strictly temporary. In Gemini, they have a member capable of ceasing to exist at any moment, simply by deactivating one of their techniques. Probably, just like the contract of the alien supposedly at war with them, the acquisition of their members is extremely variable and strange, befitting a leader who likely has little judgment in choosing them. Hannah does not treat this creature as a person or an entity from the Beyond; if she began to treat it as a homunculus, she would definitely be planning its purification, but as a technique, she surely sees it as a tool or a slave. The scandal within the office regarding the presence of the new team member is about to fade, once Hannah gives up on eating or even tasting Jerry's food and returns to the large room decorated with plants to observe the scene. A new agent with a sharp and attentive style, carrying a sword physically unlike Hannah, came down a nearby staircase to explain things to Mercy. The message she herself had posted high on one of the walls stated that free transit or even mere presence of aliens of the Aglinigena race around all Gemini facilities is not permitted, especially if they have a pair of eyes, are interested in terrorist activities, and have been hired by Jack Hayes for fixed periods of 10 months.
(Ayumi) Listen, Mercy, Aglinigena has some of the strictest legal systems among the Worlds made to be lost. You can't even imagine what it's like to disobey the rules, right, friend? Read the sign.
(Aglioxiloma) Wow, that's bad for me. Can I keep living outside their fortress?
(Ayumi) Absolutely not.
No.1478
Chrysoberyl-3baf4d Anonymous
No.1479
Chrysoberyl-3baf4d Anonymous
>>1479
(LeSueur) As an enigma, I can assure you that enigmas are a lost cause among the Beings of the Beyond. It will be an unorthodox task, involving activities in... let's see... Iraq, Canada, the Amazon, Antarctica, Uganda, and Detroit, oh, shit, Detroit. Well, that's what you signed up for, isn't it?
>You know the presence in front of Hannah; it's one that was previously shown to you, either to help you cross the Nod barrier or just to annoy you with unnecessary data. The enigma specializing in boundaries is giving Hannah certain guidelines regarding the next mission. The location is a sort of airship, at the very top of an Iraqi city. Several screens approach there with objectives that you can easily discern are Beings of the Beyond. Creatures of human appearance, others of immense size like a dragon requiring scale analysis, and finally beings of unknown aspect that can only be described in scattered data and several on the tables. The enigma of the great eye seems to be an activity regarding divine agent or protection missions; he treats Hannah with a certain degree of subordination. Unlike other visions or stays, this is one that has not repeated before and therefore seems difficult to access once you have to imagine what kind of situation Hannah will be in from now on based on the described missions. Regarding the nun, although she is flying at a high level above the earth, and although she is clearly observing the dangers enumerated by LeSueur in the exposure of the objectives, she always remained patient and silent. The sudden appearance of her sword in her hands, in the same way she materialized it in front of Olivia, is misinterpreted by LeSueur as an indication of nervousness. Unlike the past vision, the appearance of this weapon was completely intentional, without you or your thoughts interfering with its presence or absence. LeSueur attempts to "calm" Hannah in his own way. As soon as he was about to show Olivia's image on one of the many screens, Hannah finally reacted by quickly shifting her eyes to the sides. She did not disapprove of her participation in the extra-conventional Vatican missions, but she still showed some discomfort.pasted-2026-06-06T16-22-13.png
(LeSueur) We do this in Libra every day; you have no reason to feel ashamed. Besides, I was recently confirmed that we will have the help of a Vatican believer. Could you know her?
(...)
>Sometimes you return to the same mode of observation you had initially; as soon as this happens, the shifts between pasts and pasts of the nun cease to be too informative for you. Because when it comes to Hannah, observing exactly when she initiates her contract or acquires her power is of utmost importance to have the possibility of ending the torture of silence. Fortunately, this new blink suggests that Hannah is not far away, in unknown places of the human world; she is in Nod. One can hear the rumbling sounds of creatures outside, as well as the strange contractions and expansions of more-than-linear and alien organs. Music from the mid-20th century can be heard tinting the presence of a zone of the city that has a more-than-linear presence over that of fully human beings. There are beings from the Beyond who can adapt to a human life with ease, but only when they are in the company of other humans, because when it comes to beings from the Beyond, assisted by beings from the Beyond, the only thing that can emerge from all that is a grotesque rarity. Inside this dark and small room, there is no being from the Beyond that would think of perching on the moldy walls or the half-destroyed floor. The ground level is high, which means this room is completely buried underground and beneath certain buildings. When Hannah lifts her gaze, you can observe a tiny window that looks out onto the feet of countless aberrations from the other world. A great rumble occurs, and with it, a variation in the usual survival indices. Since it stopped being recommended to take cover or seek lives, incredibly, in environments with many beings from the Beyond, the percentage of accidents has decreased. Hannah falls onto a worn wooden chair, and the sound is both creaky from the wood and wet and sticky from Hannah. An object falls onto a large black and iridescent stain on the floor that only enters the next contact with cockroaches.
"Survival rate 4%. We suggest that all citizens perform completely random actions if they wish to avoid probability and survive."
(Hannah) I want... I want to eat something that isn't dry and tasteless. I wish to drink something sweet and fresh, that isn't dirty or makes me nauseous... (...) I want to live in a home that I love and that can love me without resentments... God, I want and desire, desire and want again...
No.1480
Chrysoberyl-3baf4d Anonymous
No.1481
Chrysoberyl-3baf4d Anonymous
>>1481
>It's different from the Doxia you saw in battle, not only in appearance but slightly in attitude too. The Doxia you fought sought God in a way that it almost seemed the influence of Hannah's divine light on his system was entirely decisive. Whether or not the being from Beyond was manipulated, it is now a fact that he is exploring territory beyond the human realm. As soon as the conversation between Doxia and Hannah ends—if it can even be called an audit—a man bursts completely into the temple, forcefully pushing open the wooden doors. After walking in, he positions himself between the holy statues and the pair of creatures about to meet LeSueur. The temple's atmosphere changed entirely with Joe Abrams' arrival, not only letting in a heavy air but also making the entire aspect of this parallel plane look geometric, polygonal, like it was made of dark glass. After warning, speaking, and joking a bit about the life-or-death situation they are about to face, Abrams slowly pushes them toward the exit door, which began to tilt vertically toward where the city was continuously reflected.
(Joe) Are you ready? After this point, there is no turning back. You will face demons, demons made of parts of the world, and parts of the world as concepts that form flesh. My curses tell me the survival probability is 33%. Pretty high, right? Considering you live in Nod. Alright, let's get out of here! For the next 404 hours, neither Joe Abrams nor the Vatican will be responsible for anything. You are on your own.
(...)
>The first thing you noticed, upon regaining a body to move through the environment, was a large straight hole similar to an elongated wedge that deepens into the earth. You are not far from Nod, from the state of New York; you are in the north in devastated land that was partially cleared so emergency services could cross. Hanna is not far from a half-destroyed building, next to a person she is supposed to be waiting for. A clap and several shouts of encouragement are enough to determine who her boss at the defense agency she assists should be. It is Sunday morning, and the scene looks very gray, perhaps much grayer than what Nod could have been with its fog. When the terrain was destroyed by an almost instantaneous attack, the land of Boston sank, compacted, and all the water and humidity from the surroundings disappeared. What rises is dust and wind that emerges from the deep, perfectly positioned longitudinal hole, allowing large air currents to pass through. You are advanced a few hundred meters from the start of the hole, so the only thing Jack Hayes can do if he advances a few more meters is fall into the bottom of the hollow terrain in Boston. At the bottom, there are not only broken buildings, houses, and general destruction, but also various aid groups that provide mystical and even psychic assistance from the League. What Jack does is not specifically very contributory to the situation, but he makes sure to leave his mark before returning to Hannah so they can finally speak.pasted-2026-06-06T16-23-46.png
(Jack) Come on, guys! We've got lives to save! Boston is in their hands! BOSTON, BOSTON! Like the Boston bears, who's with me? You know, Hannah, saving lives is so exhausting... But I could never get tired of it! Want some?
>He tried to offer her part of a snack he must have bought a long time ago, just the fries that go with a burger, but the nun's response didn't change whether she accepted food from others or not. Unconsciously channeling her power to maintain her body's state, Hannah just watched as very few people, or directly no one, responded to Jack's encouraging calls to action. Unlike the nun with divine abilities, Hannah's boss doesn't seem to be anything more than a superhuman with certain skills in blood or muscle manipulation. Also, he's diametrically opposite when it comes to his attitude, because Hayes demonstrates a much wider range of emotions when accepting the indifference of others, Hannah's, or when cheering himself up as this task of extensive civic support fills him. Normally you wouldn't return to a place you left in ruins, but since you're following Hannah like a spirit, you can only assume you did it this one time. The car Jack has behind him, dirty from the wheels to the lower parts of the chassis from the mud, is sturdy enough to support his weight on it. Evidently, Hannah doesn't do much more than direct part of her gaze, even though supposedly it was she who was looking for Jack in distant Boston outside of Nod. Jack explains, pointing with his drink and marveling at his own words.
(Jack) Doesn't it seem like a miracle? The city disappeared completely, billions in losses, but not a single person succumbed to the power of the glacial energy wave. Of course, after that we had a few million naked people who fell from a great height. Uff, that would have been a curious way to die, wouldn't it?
(Hannah) It wasn't a miracle; the Vatican took care of it. They used my body to neutralize the damage and took all those people into my spirit. It was immediate; I wasn't even aware of it.
(Jack) Hahahaha! So it was you! I couldn't have doubted it, great job. You've improved a lot lately. Did you come all the way to Boston to tell me this? Or is it the story I tried to tell you? NO. Do you want a raise? You want one, don't you?!
No.1482
Chrysoberyl-3baf4d Anonymous
>>1482
>Hannah's response is precise, as well as specific, a suspicious kind of response that should alarm Jack. But, as for the human next to her, he just places a lot of value on what a sacrifice it must have been for Hannah to save all those people. Indeed, as soon as you destroyed the pair of cities with the lightning that would strike down LeSueur and Hannah, the Vatican acted to dissipate the damage almost entirely. There were still those creatures of Total Speed ​​that, even with their semi-instantaneous action on Boston, were not able to avoid some loss after the great destruction. Jack, however, unlike Mercy who, according to Sally, would regret what happened, tries to broach the subject with some humor. He quickly gets distracted from what seemed strange or at least curious about Hannah's power and simplifies things to an awkward merit talk. The conversation would continue, silently, because unlike Jack, Hannah can't just laugh without having anything on her mind. It is in this way that Hannah saves her words only by denying Jack's questions, so that in the end, after finishing their lunch break, it is Jack who resumes the whole conversation with a new topic that comes out of absolute nowhere. This one exclaims, for a being who came from another land, another time and another world.
(Jack) Paquito! That was his name!! From the alien I knew in my childhood. He crashed outside the white house and I was the only one who could help him. He became my best friend and eventually I had to help him get home. I dressed him up as a ghost and we went trick-or-treating together on Halloween, he also made me fly with a bike. Like that movie, my alien friend, cr7, yeah.
>Hanna stared at Jack's face for a few long seconds, with no sign of even smiling at the fictional story that had to be at least somewhat funny. She only kept her gaze slightly longer than the attention she usually gives to everyone. You are not able to hear what she is thinking, or even imagine it, at most you can only position yourself at her exact point of vision and observe through her eyes. The movies Jack mentions don't even come close to what a real alien in Nod is, but from the passion he usually exudes it would seem that he really had an alien acquaintance in his childhood. It is no less surprising that, prior to the Collapse, there were strangely alien sightings much more often than orboid presences on Earth. However, after Hannah's lack of response or reaction, Jack simply cannot guess what she is trying to tell him based on semi-funny and semi-fictional stories. Eventually he also adopts a slightly more serious expression, stops closing his eyes so much and through his glasses, takes care not to overwhelm Hannah too much with his attention when she has to ask about the truth. But when Jack accepted that the situation finally had to be taken seriously, Hannah provided immediate criticism to what should be a trusted leader. He could do nothing but look bewildered, in a genuinely human reaction.
(Jack) There's something bothering you, right? Can you tell me what it is about. Ayumi says I'm as bad at listening as I am hopelessly chatty. But, at this point, I just can't let it go, you know?
(Hannah) You are kind, much kinder than the others. But you are not kind because you love others deeply. You are because you can't love anyone deeply.
No.1483
Chrysoberyl-3baf4d Anonymous
>>1483
(...)
>You returned to the hallway you were initially transported to as soon as you assimilated all the power of the universe, and with it you set yourself to the infinite task of reviewing Hannah's past for hours. You knew nothing more of Jack, Paquito, or the city you destroyed, because the moment you blinked was one where Hannah was completely alone. There are beings from the Beyond, sick people, and medical staff around, but no one speaks to the nun, just as no one would speak to a super-mutated mushroom monster that might wander the streets; some existences are simply like that in this city. Hannah carries no weapon, repeats no words she learned in her years of high devotion, and shows no extreme fervor beyond dressing as a nun. You can identify that you are in the same Sunday after the battle you had with Hannah, probably with your presence completely vanished from this world. Going to find your house by walking through buildings and encountering the Baron, Bagoriceny, or one of your servants is not something you can do, because, just as you started this journey in Hannah's life, your movements are limited to what can happen inside the hospital. Hannah walked from the entrance to the area where you strangled Sally, and then from that cemetery to the stairs. Climbing each one in its time, ignoring the beings from the Beyond gathering on the upper floors and taking advantage of the ventilation to inhale normalization gases. Hannah continues her straight journey toward the room where Sally is kept, still with visitors inside and behind her, waiting a couple of seconds. Only after she has entered and only after Mercy has recognized her does Hannah finally speak the first words about the entirety of this vision. Because, no matter how much Doxia has spoken of her or how much you have related to the sick woman, she has not been able to know her until after she fought you and returned to the earth. Mercy is instantly flustered, something nervous, she asks several questions.
(Hannah) So you are Sally, right?
(Mercy) H-hannah? What are you doing here? I thought you were in another city, cleaning up the disaster. Did you come here all by yourself? ''What did I tell you about flying at high speeds in and out of Nod?
''
(Sally) Oh… I get it. It's your friend, Mercy. Nice to meet you, I'm Sally!
>Mercy placed her palm beside her mouth, trying to ask discreetly. From your perspective, with Boston destroyed and Jack out there helping people, it was clear that the hospital vision and the encounter with Hayes happened on the same day, maybe just hours apart. It's still morning, and the only reason Hannah could have almost teleported from that distance to the hospital is the use of her superhuman abilities. For Mercy, these are surprising, since she most likely doesn't know Cade Andronicus's capabilities, but for you, they constitute a far too vague usage. One that contradicts how much Hannah could have visited Sally, both to wander the building so calmly and to fly at full speed here. Sally, completely unaware of those two's abilities, simply guided by the general concept she has of others based on Mercy, cheerfully greets Hannah. In a similar way to when you first met her, Hannah is immediately overwhelmed by the nurse's smile and her ability to draw quick conclusions. On the gurney, Sally isn't carrying any book or item to waste time on; she only shows that she's made good use of her time, whether chatting or not with Mercy. However, if we're talking about items outside her usual attire, she's wearing that pink scarf she wore many blinks ago. Effectively hiding the marks of a previous injury, Sally fixes her gaze completely on Hannah, waiting for her to elaborate on her introduction or for her to use some words to keep the conversation going. Sally's attention and gaze are effective; as soon as the nun comes into focus, she must step fully into the room. She didn't sit down, nor did she pry too much into the various gifts temporarily decorating the area around her bed, made in detail by the being from Beyond. Hannah brought her hands together at her waist, in serenity but with zero grace, and asked directly about Sally's condition. Initially, Sally opened her eyes slightly wider than usual, blinked a couple of times, and prepared to answer Hannah's question sincerely. The tone she adopted as she had to explain more and more of her condition was not one brimming with energy.
(Hannah) You have a pending treatment today. How are you feeling, Sally? Are you... nervous? I would be... I'm not good at this.
(Sally) Currently, it's hard to describe. I'd say I'm worried, about a being from Beyond, however incredible that sounds. His name is Doxia; he's been taking care of me for a while. He's been slightly distant from me these past few days; I don't know where he is or if he's okay. What happened outside Nod, the disaster, is something that could affect him mentally, as a resident of Nod, a being from Beyond, and as someone who truly cares about human opinion. I know he'll eventually come to see me, anyway. But these small moments of uncertainty are, well, they are what they are...
(Mercy) Sally, your neck. What is that?
No.1484
Chrysoberyl-3baf4d Anonymous
>>1484
>At some point, between showing her concern and concluding with faith in Doxia's future visit, Sally adjusted her scarf in a rather inappropriate manner if she intended to hide more. The slip was obvious to Mercy, who attended to the importance of Doxia in Sally's words. Finally, after hesitating over what the mark she saw was, Mercy dared to ask Sally directly. She probably had her suspicions, given how necessary or unnecessary that scarf was in this weather, some of which Sally would surely dispel with the important value of the scarf gift she was wearing. But, given the certainty and visibility of the facts, Sally can do nothing more than also attend to Mercy's question. For Hannah, however, listening to Sally talk so much about Doxia must have been an extremely high-difficulty challenge, both to hide her great audacity and to try to inform the girl of the current situation of the masalline. Incredibly, she performs the first of these actions perfectly,pasted-2026-06-06T16-28-38.png keeping you static as you've gotten used to seeing her in these 6 hours of summary about her life. Hannah makes no great effort to determine the position of her ally, because since the battle ended, you've only seen her interact with people who were completely alien to the conflict or had so little information that they couldn't interrogate her directly. Several seconds passed since Sally received Mercy's indicative, but before simply showing the damage of her wound to everyone, she decided to touch the edge of that woolen garment and think broadly about her words. Eventually, she finally arrives at an answer, revealing part of your violent intervention to the two, the meaning it had for her both during the traumatic moment and afterwards during the letter.
(Sally) (...) I'd love to say it's nothing, or that I deserve it, but I couldn't. It's the result of having been very inconsiderate with myself. Someone finally tried to point it out to me, of course not in the best way, the smartest, nor the most sensible or logical, but they managed it. I don't consent to this damage; it's terrible. But I shouldn't consent to the damage I've been doing to myself for a long time either. It's... just time to forget it and that's it.
(Mercy) It was Bagdeleyne, wasn't it?! It could only have been her...! How is this possible? Someone like her...! She'll know who I am!
>The agent suddenly stood up, connecting the dots piece by piece, both in dates and visits. The only way Sally could have been injured in such a manner was after the care Mercy had to provide outside the hospital, leaving it to you toward the end. She shows clear hostility toward your image, and with an unconscious click at her arm, a mass of coagulated blood instantly fires and reforms in real time to create a blunt iron extension similar to a shield. The one who was supposed to be a sweet, slightly insecure but big-hearted defense member suddenly showed total displeasure at the situation. With your official visit scheduled for this day, it would be difficult for Sally to simply keep Mercy away from trying to cause a conflict with you. But before making a definitive decision on whether to cancel your visit or make Mercy forget about spending visit time with you, Sally takes it upon herself to talk to Mercy again in order to calm the situation. In the way only she knows how to communicate with the agent, Sally's praise is not just a way to get her attention, because in reality, she genuinely feels Mercy is a good person; she told you so. Using the excuse of the letter in which Mercy supposedly helped to get to your home, Sally manages to find a middle ground so that she simply doesn't decide to come out and scream at you immediately or decides to come out and end the visit entirely for today. Slowly, the edges of Mercy's defensive metal weapon contract, as if folding in on themselves elastically despite being solid iron. Mercy doesn't verbally acknowledge that she rushed with her weapon, but interpreting her actions, you can see she is willing to follow Sally's precise recommendations.
(Sally) You've always had a lovely heart, Mercy. But, just for now, I'd like you to turn a blind eye a little. I won't forbid you from confronting her; first, I want to hear something from her. After all, it wouldn't have made sense to send a letter with all that truth, manipulation, and guilt mixed in if I don't listen to her. I feel slightly ashamed. She has a daughter, you know. Although, I think it's too early to get excited about meeting her.
>She raised the edge of her scarf once more, this time using only two of her final fingers for the action while her right index gently and superficially scratched her cheek in a gesture of certain shyness. It wasn't a mistake that you spoke to Sally about Bagoriceny, because, even despite the stressful situation she went through on your behalf, Sally remembers the detail you mentioned several days ago and hopes to continue developing what she heard. No matter how much she might doubt her friendship in the letter she wrote to you, the truth is she has genuine interest in you, what you are, and probably your family and your way of living. That she used the exact word "demon" while vaguely describing herself couldn't have been a mistake. As the intelligent person she is, Sally must have investigated your nature on her own. But no matter what, even if she hides your macabre nature from Mercy, it is only Sally who would take care of continuing her own curiosity. She doesn't mind turning to look at Mercy again to feel her discontent; Sally understands, having lived through the rejection toward you directly and having overcome it.
No.1485
Chrysoberyl-3baf4d Anonymous
>>1485
>From Hannah's perspective, whether they speak of you or not, you should still be slightly suspicious as a target, but forced to say not a single word about what happened, Hannah only took care to listen as if she were a mere third party. Dozens of minutes have passed since your delay, even before Hannah arrived. Probably, the most immediate concern before Doxia's indeterminacy, for Sally, would be when you will or will not come to visit her. It is only after the weight of no longer hiding her neck wound has been lifted that Sally can begin to joke about your situation. After all, in such a chaotic city, what Sally describes exactly is not something impossible. She smiles.
(Sally) She'll arrive late or early. Maybe late because a sect of snake men attacked her, or a baby Buddhist demigod took her wallet, or something like that. But, I trust everything will be fine.
(Hannah) Keep that attitude until the end.
>She stopped halfway a meter from Sally's gurney. Sally was still talking about you, imagining scenarios and excuses for your delay, perhaps demonstrating to Mercy that the actions you took, if they weren't so important to Sally, shouldn't generate anything beyond a simple discussion about her safety. Hannah had a full view of the cap Sally wore on her head to cover her baldness, as well as part of her face and her speaking happily. Although Hannah was shorter than you, she couldn't reach Sally's height when Sally sat on the gurney; the difference in length between their heads was vast. It was when Sally finished speaking that Hannah immediately interjected, making Sally unable to process the meaning of her words until it happened. But, if she had been able to process them, maintaining happiness right before something was about to happen and then cutting it off immediately or destroying it, that must have been a hopeful expression that Sally would easily grow attached to now. Divine light returned, for an instant, freezing everything to absolute zero as happened every time Hannah wanted to teleport, and immediately nullifying the immediate effects of this on everything that had touched its surface. Hannah's black sword appeared in her hands, not floating centimeters away from her palms or millimeters away when she wanted to use it in a more grand display of her abilities. Hannah touched the hilt of her sword directly with her left palm; she did it without the need or obligation to transform into her king form that you had faced. And with her divine weapon in hand, what Hannah did in a matter of fractions of seconds was to cut and pierce. Hannah cut, both through the sheets covering half of Sally's body and the thin pastel-toned outfit she continuously wears whenever she must prepare for visits; Hannah also cut through the very end of the scarf Sally had dropped as soon as she was indirectly notified of the attack. Hannah pierced through half of Sally in a transverse cut, not one that split her in half with enormous effort, but more like a thrust that cut exactly through the lower half of her torso and pierced through both her arms and her organs. It must have been an extremely measured cut, as it initially crossed through the opening of bones inside her right forearm, to perforate her intestines and stomach immediately, subsequently damaging her kidneys and her uterus until the edge of the sword emerged from the other side and re-entered the opening of her right forearm. When Hannah withdrew the sword, what she obtained was not a tunnel vision of Sally's upper body, because it closed due to the pressure of her sick body itself and only let blood flow to the sides. In a matter of fractions of seconds, after that mortal thrust, Hannah faced a moment that was not just about stabbing to end a life; she decided to cut off part of her head. The marks Sally had on her neck were split in half, as were her esophagus and trachea, which were disconnected; a significant part of Sally's physiology began to be instantly detached from the rest of her body immediately. The scarf she had was immediately cut along with her head; Hannah did it, without a prolonged display of her power, just a series of cold and calculated movements to end her life. Mercy's expression throughout all this was one of horror, silent, completely in shock.
(Mercy) … (...) Why…-?
(Hannah) Mercy.
>Blood splattered immediately, symmetrically, reaching Mercy's pants as she remained seated before the gurney. The sword that finished the job, Hannah's black sword, showed not a single trace of a cut or bloodstain on its surface; it was as if the cut had cleansed the divine artifact during the very act of execution. The splattered blood was not just all the blood from this vision of Hannah, but also the blood that flowed from the middle of her body. Immediately painting the white sheets red, this blood spread far less uniformly than that which resulted from the nun's final cut. The divine agent's sword dropped immediately once the job was done, but before it could bounce a second time on the floor making a metallic sound, the black sword vanished in the manifestation of an instant divine light. The immediate word Hannah gave after killing Sally was Mercy's name, not in the sense that she was calling her or naming her in any way, but simply mercy to God. Both Sally's body and head soon fell with an unpleasantly wet sound.
No.1486
Chrysoberyl-3baf4d Anonymous
>>1486
>Sally's lifeless arms couldn't properly adjust to the descent of her torso, because after piercing through them, Hannah had destroyed a significant portion of her supporting muscles. A metallic formation of blood immediately knocked Hannah to the ground. It was a shield hard enough to recklessly bend Hannah's superhuman body with a single, powerful impact. It was Mercy, who had finally reacted to Hannah's psychotic actions and swiftly subdued her. But no matter how reinforced her shield was or how hard she slammed Hannah into the ground, cracking the floor and walls instantly upon impact, her weapon would never be strong enough to block even remotely one of Hannah's cuts or her divine arsenal.
(Mercy) WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?! WHY, HANNAH?! WHY THE HELL DID YOU DO THAT?! HANNAH!!! Hannah...-! Oh God... Ah... Aa-ah... No way...
(Hannah) God... have mercy on me. Oh, Lord. Forgive me... Forgive me, Lord. I feel such despair right now... Mercy.
>Hannah Cade Andronicus murdered Sally on a Sunday during a scheduled visit, mere hours after the complete disappearance of Doxia and Bagdeleyne Von Batenkaitos in Nod. She made no attempt to rise, though she could have defeated Mercy instantly using her abilities; instead, Hannah collapsed to the floor, weeping and lamenting. She begged God over and over again, in a way that made you remember how she originally obtained her weapon through one of the many visions you accessed many hours ago. You didn't have to watch any longer as Mercy struggled to process what had just happened—because the moment Hannah surrendered herself to her God, you blinked once more, out of this repeatable scene.
(...)
(Jack) PAQUITO?! I can't believe it's you! And here, in Boston!pasted-2026-06-06T16-35-19.png
>You returned to the hours before Hannah arrived at the hospital, during the time she met with Jack in Boston. The hole wasn't growing larger with each visit, but it clearly seemed that its depth and the number of victims down there had only increased. Hannah and Jack's conversation must have ended; she was slightly distanced from him, yet still watching the strangely unforeseen arrival of an alien whom Jack immediately recognized as his best friend from the past. It wasn't just impossible that this wasn't the Paquito from his story—this being seemed outright fake, and everything around Jack felt highly unbelievable. Witnessing such nonsense, even as a third-party observer, right after experiencing such an intense vision as the murder of an innocent girl by Hannah, felt like a cruel joke. You could almost lose yourself, forget that you possess a body capable of traveling throughout Boston or even beyond it into Nod to uncover more about Hannah or the Vatican—but what brought you back to reality was the presence of a third person in this entire conversation. Excluding Paquito, there was a visitor you'd never seen before in any of these fragmented stories from Hannah's life, appearing precisely when she put on an immaculate, regal suit and began acting far more frivolously than usual. That vision of Hannah wasn't merely sharing space with the other Hannah; judging by how her cloak behaved, she could phase through the floor and possessed the same level of intangibility as you across the repetition of these situations. The first thing this Hannah did upon noticing your presence—once she convinced herself she needed to speak to you—was apologize for your own decision.
(Hannah*) I'm sorry, but all the energy in this universe isn't all the energy in the human world, nor is it all the energy in the Afterlife Realm, and certainly not even close to all the energy from the place you originally came from. Maybe, if you had absorbed all of it, you could've achieved something far more transcendent than me. But right now, the omnipotence you possess is exactly the same omnipotence I possess—one bound to the infinite iteration of this world.
>She precisely defines what you've been experiencing over the last 6 hours: a semi-random appearance of events, from which you can find little to no information to free yourself from this state of observation. Based on how Hannah describes herself, you can figure out a couple of things. She is just like you in this mode of witnessing the past—unable to interfere or make her voice heard anywhere except your ears. Likewise, she's so tied to Hannah that she remains close to her, allowing the succession of random events to continue. You can't harm her in any way—she passes through you and you through her whenever you try to interact more with the objects around you. However, trying to touch this well-dressed Hannah should be far less complicated than trying to touch Paquito or somehow hit Hayes. Unlike you, who can move at inhuman speeds and directions just by thinking, the divine Hannah projected near you does nothing but passively orbit the nun Hannah currently in the alien's situation.

(Jack) Boston, Boston! Sorry, I can't stop saying it. Paquito, you have no idea how long I've waited for your return! Ever since I was a kid... I knew one day we'd have our adventures again, just like in the old days.
(Paquito) Yeah, it's me, Jack. Now give me the access code to Gemini's bank funds. I'll make sure to run your agency with zero transparency, just like you always wanted.
(Jack) Absolutely. You know I'd do anything for a friend.
No.1487
Chrysoberyl-3baf4d Anonymous
No.1488
Chrysoberyl-3baf4d Anonymous
>>1488
>But no matter how the Trinity Hannah makes it seem, orchestrating a miracle for you is just as likely as expecting Batenkaitos to seek mental help or Bagoriceny to stop killing innocent animals based on their appearance—simply impossible. She makes sure to emphasize this once again, stressing the overwhelming boredom you started to feel after watching Hannah do a lot of nothing for a long time.
(Hannah*) But you won't be able to do it. You won't be able to do anything. I've spent millions, and millions, and millions of eternities witnessing other lives. You need an iron will to achieve something like that—an divine will. (...) Listen, right now I'm a Hannah with 824 years of memories. Why? That sword doesn't just cut the past or future by chasing your target's projection across ridiculously distant positions—it also affects the memories of its wielder the moment you start swinging it. I can project an innocent Hannah whenever I want, just as easily as I can project a Hannah who's lived decillions of years mechanically performing her duties. She only needs to hold the sword in her hands, and I—I—and I, I and only I will take care of the rest.
>It was the Trinity Hannah herself who chose to reveal her true nature, after they'd jumped for the sixteenth time into the moment when Olivia calls out to Hannah, only for Hannah to completely ignore her. The real-looking Hannah continues explaining about the sword that suddenly appeared in Hannah's hands, pointing at it, assigning it properties equally absurd yet effectively applicable in reality. Finally, you're shown the mechanism behind Hannah's instability in combat, the reason why in none of her memories or experiences did she ever firmly grip the sword, but instead let it float mere centimeters or millimeters away from her hand. The Hannah standing before you decides when to switch places within the mind of the Hannah facing Olivia, and precisely when it's best to do so in order not to excessively alter the future or past based on her memories. After all, she is the sword's bearer—only she can fully touch it and use its power to cut memories. As for you, you've never had the chance to snatch the weapon away and deprive her of her powers or the decisions she made ahead of time. She approached you, close enough that you could feel her cloak brush against your clothes, turning invulnerability and intangibility back into nothing. And when she did, she displayed an attitude different from her usual impassiveness—whether in reality or in the observational plane. pasted-2026-06-06T16-36-44.png
(Hannah*) Sacrificing my mind eternally, erasing my memories one by one, whenever fate decides. If it means ensuring a demon like you never involves itself with a human again, it's a price worth paying. Sally's death was inevitable.
>She acts with arrogance when she has to reveal the full extent of her plan—one she has followed both in the past and in the future, systematically replacing herself to achieve her confrontation with you. The Hannah standing before you is precisely why, no matter what, Sally was certain she would die, regardless of whether she had ever known Hannah until the moment it happened. Again, they return from the Vatican to the interior of the hospital, taking a position outside the room where events unfold, yet still able to hear Sally's and Mercy's voices behind the door arguing over the wound you caused. The impeccably dressed Hannah who confronted you paces back and forth as she prepares to enter the room once more, precisely at the moment events unfold, only to point at the sword that will flawlessly emerge from Sally's body in an instant. She gives you the answer to the failed contract you attempted long ago—because she is their God in this human world, not the entire world, and she is herself both in the past and in the future, if you can align with the moment her memories are rewritten. Apparently, this Hannah, before her counterpart murdered Sally, tries to warn you about whether or not you can use the shortcut of prayers integrated into this observation plane's deep and indecipherable matrix. Finishing her gesture toward the sword, Hannah Trinitaria attempts to vanish, becoming increasingly transparent,
(Sally) (...) But, I trust that everything will be alright.
(Hannah) Keep that attitude until the end.
(Hannah*) I know your exit from this place is predetermined. I created this sword. I am the connection between God, my sword, and myself. But you cannot break me—because after this, Hannah Cade Andronicus will never again direct a prayer to God.
No.1489
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