Take Up the Cross – Chapter 109: A False God Acquires [Power]

Gray tendrils expend their last energies, crumbling to join the dusty starlight fragments which also meets their ends. All of the heat stolen from the dark star above surges up. It flows out of the cracking space where this joint cancer and falsely living invader nestled.

More than Adris could’ve thought possible to conceal, its pressure blinds him despite trying to shield his sight. A reversion of theft leaves his Inner Expanse filling up, churning his sensory self within its great volume until he finally lets go of his spiritual anchor.

(No control! It… I’m going to lose cohesion!)

For aura to overflow the plate called the soul, it will only produce horrific results…!

But, it’s not fear that grasps him, but a vibrating sense of change.

(WHERE IS THIS BACKWASH COMING FROM!?)

An inescapable circle of great might joins with the stellar procession, disregarding its current balance. Rather than sinking into the four planets bound in harmony, it slips into the gravity of the dark star that represents…?

Near and far is inverting even in the “real” world outside.

When the sash comes off, a loose weight is crushing Adris against the parapet. Its closeness is a blob that will envelop and entomb him forever, its resentments filling his lungs with their despise instead of clean air, turning his bones to jelly.

(Drowning…!?)

With his full might as a boy, he braces and shoves the body away without a care in his heart.

The body—

Serras’ eyes are wide as she stares while falling backward slowly, closely following until her head falls back to dash upon—!?

“H-Heavy!”

An arm is crushed beneath her torso, leaving Adris trapped by his attempt to save her. Despite looking like mush, the ground is so unforgiving without a man’s muscles.

(Serras? No, she’s…?)

Face to face at an intimate distance once he wiggles free, this “Serras’” gaze registers nothing.

No muscles move, not even to twitch in pain from their mutual impact on the tower’s roof.

(Fake… She is…)

Even if fake, Adris’ quaking heart screams out what was true.

It declares that every feeling was.

Every hidden vice uncovered by her hate was another of his sins.

With each memory of his failures recollected, a piece of Adris’ soul wailed and split free. They demanded the death of the whole to pay up, but instead he survived.

(This is… what is going on…?)

Adris cast her aside, even as he clings to “her” now.

The duplicity of such an action, abandoning and yet seeking to save, explains much without being clear.

Questions demand answers that he begs not to uncover. The answers hope to be set free, before the form they’re trapped by explodes outward.

Magical clothing cannot wick off his sweat fast enough.

He curls up to a cooling corpse, sticking his face into her breasts and wondering at this loathsome disease spreading.

(It’s so hot! My head is splitting, too much pressure!?)

What was being stolen no longer escapes, instead gathering and churning!

It leaves his toes curling from the shocking pleasure of this unprecedented torrent of power accruing. Already rendered like nectar to be sucked up by the first female he finds, his base erotic needs are sated for a time by the sheer height of capacity he drowns in alongside the grief.

(What grief? She was just a fake.)

Even as he pushes her away, he immediately draws back in.

Eager for the smell replicated so perfectly to never fade. No, not replicated… original?

She’s a specimen never to be found elsewhere after this nightmare ends, though he must grasp her under a sky dominated by an inverted mansion containing all of the wonders of an enemy. This public humiliation must serve, leaving that enemy now scowling at his pathetic surrender.

Adris finds it hard to push away from this nebulous need for a fake…!?

Inescapable contradiction, of finding, yet abandoning immediately?

(No… not the original…! Never my Serras!)

(This— is— a—!)

“PERFECT MOMENT TO BE FREE!”

Scratchy voices shrilly cry out, assaulting his ear drums and destroying this silent respite.

One reunion ends so that another may start.

Black particles that scream of unrevealed truths which destroy when heard rush up from Adris’ shadow. They coalesce into a tattered cloak that spins in the air as it melts up into being.

A wimple worn close allows no view of this girl’s shrouded face; yet, Adris can’t hide from her identity.

(Where is the “Rantil” part…?)

“gAtHeR uP!”

Because he cannot be sure, he’s just as fearful of this floating wrapper full of evil laughter and tempting secrets as he is of the abominations that congregate at her behest.

(Am I being betrayed again!?)

Within the place between worlds, even Adris’ training to refuse acknowledging corruption is overturned by the limb-straightening rushes of aura that play inside of him. The creatures that mimic shapes like this malformed Rantil’s are too numerous to worry with explaining.

They simply crowd him, with some tall enough to have to crane down to see while others let their sights flow from one end of the rooftop to the other. A curiosity familiar to them tastes like the whispers that cry out with the cross’ activation.

(These are the things always watching me?)

Attempting to understand such monstrosities would turn Adris’ mind from survival to willful self-ruin.

Yet, they exuberantly invite inspection, nakedly shivering in the temptation they offer to be defined by him. Parts of them are mundane, but the impossible aspects, like tissues connecting by slinky crystals or bodies made of distorting colors that fluidly change thicknesses, are what drive him insane.

(… Living concepts… that can’t be allowed to exist, but desire to be… witnessed…)

Techniques alone could change men into mutated murderers on Xin, and they only had one, pure shape. Offering curious questions with their braying, chattering, and squealing voices which speak in languages that he is compelled to understand…

“wAy To LiGhT?”

“sOfT? nO, fIrM, tOo!?”

Each addresses not him, but his duplicitous Codex.

“Like Rantil said, he’s the one, THE ONE that gets the difference between what idiots see and what they should see~!”

Rantil’s cheery childlike voice sounds suitably malevolent for her backstabbing nature…

“… kUkUkUkU, mY wOnDeRfUl [SpEaKeR]! lOnG hAvE yOu SuFfErEd In IgNoRaNcE, but—!?”

The cloak sweeps with an unseen arm, before she bows her head.

“BUT, now… we welcome our TRUE PRETENDER!”

Made of only truthful utterances, Rantil means “hidden mysteries that shouldn’t be revealed”.

“pRaIiIiIiIiIsE bE tHe PuPpEt CrOsSeR!”

“BE SHARED, WE WILL BEEEEEE!?”

“NO CURTAIN, NO DISTANCE—nO fAlSe SePaRaTiOn!? ALL BE [DARK-IS-LIGHT], aGaIn!?”

With haste these ungainly, reverent inhabitants of shifting chaos kneel or bow toward Adris, obeying the ghostly Rantil’s example.

(Who is… no, what is this gathering for?)

“Ahh!?”

Adris releases “Serras” to clamp down on his arm.

It spasms without cessation, flopping against his body and the floor as the heat running through his arteries ramps up. The unseen torrents of potential are beginning to jump lines of vitality. Aura pathways, like they did in the Castillo, are beginning to break and reassemble in truly bizarre formations.

(I don’t have aura, though!?)

Accelerating the decay of his hard-won aura control are the spectators which bring bloody tears to his eyes as he grows more aware of their individual natures.

(But I can endure…!)

Adris cannot find the strength to act or escape, though, only resist.

Within this place between worlds, his only reliable ally has ever been the demon that was once an imp, and has now become a pious representative for…

“Kukukuku! Noble Crossbearer!

Thy time of advent be truly at hand!”

This cloaked specter, rather than a spectator, glides closer to him.

She oppresses overhead, hiding within the chattering darkness of her body all of the questions to the answers Adris has long sought.

“… Rantil is very happy, because she set you free of the dragging hole that stole away all the delicious potential you kept seeding so vigilantly as mysteries in others’ thoughts!”

“‘Mysteries’…!? Ack…!”

The closer Rantil comes, the faster the cycling of aura!

When streams of it break free from his mental focus, complementary eruptions of milky darkness bursts from an arm.

“Burns… burning…!”

(What, no pain, though!? Release… as fire!? This feels… good…!?)

“AHHHH!? Rantil thinks it’s delicious, so sweet~!” Showered by the painless spray, the drunken ghost weaves about before spinning in place. “Just like this, a beautiful form should’ve been recognized in the Chapel. And would’ve… without that cow of a fake priestess interfering!”

Though having his aura track fracture and dump visible manifestations into the world should leave agony, instead…!

(Ah… Ah fuck… this is…!)

“Isn’t it great, the bestest thing ever~!?

Kyaaa, my ‘other me’ is so handsome~! Did you ever think you’d reach this moment, Adris!?”

“This moment” should’ve never come despite it making Rantil pleased.

It’s impossible for it to arrive.

An ever-distant future that death would finally permanently forestall, on the track to immortality beyond the black clouds above, this is the next tier…!?

(This is… an… ascension step!? I’m… beginning… I’m within reach of the next track…!?)

A throng of impossible creatures dance and rave while witnessing the shadows weave about Adris.

“gO fOr It, GrEaT oNe!”

“GEHEEEE,BECOME NOTHING,BECOME EVERYTHING,SEE ALL,BE NOTHINGGGGG! BECOMEMORETHANNOTHING,EVERYTHING!”

“There’s no wrong, mighty Bridge/WAY, only the great river JUMPING-ITS-BANKS-TO-DROWN-THE-WORLD?”

What is within escapes outside, to demand the Between World’s own substance answer an unheard call. That merging of different materials makes any manuals and philosophies Adris has read worthless, because nobody suggested at a higher existence there would be uncertain lies as revelations!

(An ascension step without preparation is suicide!)

Only the incessant gonging of enormous bells is an external focus strong enough to latch onto.

Obsidian shines in the empty, tempting malevolence of this bastion of the “never made” and “totally impossible”, rejecting it as Adris’ thoughts do.

(I am moving to the next stage, whether I want to or not!)

Although only the first stage between the lowest called “human” and the heights of true ascension, Adris has irrevocably strayed across the boundary. His body that is ecstatic with the glory, the simplest taste, of a purer existence above this one will never accept anything less than complete breakthrough.

Not even content to deform into a monster, the shaking cross and boy’s body will likely explode into a million pieces of starlight…!

(Or pure darkness! Is this the “natural form” of existence!?)

The memories that weren’t known to Adris, but were definitely real: where had this “Serras” gained them from?

From Adris’ senses, memories repressed and never accepted?

From the Cross itself, carrying darkness from Xin along with it that was then devoured by a copy?

(Did… those memories always… linger on even past my death? Past… Serras’ death, if she didn’t survive…?)

“Yes!!!

THAT’S THE WAY!”

Black specter, evil ghost…!

A Rantil that thrums with insanity barely constrained by threadbare cloth floats down to slide her unseen cheek along Adris’.

“… Kukuku, all of the wonderful things you proved true by action! All of the unshared natures that you revealed about those you fooled, unveiling their piggish, thuggish forms with the mirror of purity called your ‘wit’, were these not the most sublime moments you can claim!?”

“You call my life… sublime…?”

“How can it be anything else!? Noble Crossbearer, just as you have chiseled open a secret called ‘the boundary of real and unreal’ from the mystery box called ‘the death of a truthful fake’, did you not also discover much about others and the world by parading all of their petty privacies before the crowds? Mastering their very emotions to bend them to your own intentions, then undoing them with aid of their black hearts, isn’t this powerful!?

KUKUKUKU!”

Unbelievably chatty, this allip also sounds needy as she reminds Adris of his many plots. Leaving him vital every time they were unleashed, he does find it alluring…

(I’d pull the impossible off… leaving them forever wondering how their lives had been ruined. Jumping at shadows which might be contrived boobytraps left behind…!)

The strength to move surges back through him with confidence regained.

As if he is a master puppeteer worthy to play upon the three-tiered stage of the Emperor’s Court, numerous ploys filter through his thoughts. Reduced to their essence, about each he can say…!

“I was always something as long as I won…”

(Serras loved that man…)

“Yes~! Rantil thinks that an Adris who acts like the ‘great evil’ he’s always been is the cutest!”

“… Cute…!? I am…”

“KYAAA~!”

Adris seizes something unmentionable, a gripping hand dragging on the taunting cloak that overlooks his true potential!

“… At the moment of showing your final tiles, win or lose, it was always a win…! Precisely because the real battle had been won in secret while stacking the board!”

“Yeeees, a smart man doesn’t just hoard secrets! He uses them, lays out traps~!”

(… “Secrets are the true resource of conquerors!” It was so thrilling precisely because a lie could obscure all of the precious work done out of sight! Within the web I wove, I could be as godlike as the others, surpassing even regents!)

A way of proving two things that equal the same.

“I am right.”

Is indistinguishable from…

(“I am alive!” They always had a chance, but not at the end! Only if they could recognize the con before then did they…!)

Accepting that greedy claim, the energies flowing through him begin to calm and flow more precisely. Seeking a goal of their own, they accelerate the collapse of Adris’ resistance.

(The lies weren’t just about winning, but of holding power over others by what I could use against them! Secrets are currency, and with them I can be truly rich!)

Adris can embrace these secrets, making himself their sole master.

(Just as this place shows, there’s a depth to Zennia which far exceeds even that… that steel-blue child’s mental grasp!)

A treasure trove of them floats next to his meager shell, awaiting his hand to reveal her face…!

Perhaps compel the brimming hysteria underneath to smile for him…

(TO BE THE ONLY ONE WHO KNOWS THOSE SECRETS,

TO DEFINE VICTORY BY GUIDING LIES WITH THOSE TRUTHS…

AND TO BREAK THEIR MINDS WITH THE REVELATION OF THEIR FUTILITY, SUCH IS VICTORY, AN ETERNAL TESTAMENT TO MY GREATN—!)

Furious movements while rising stumble him backwards, landing him on something.

The dark cloud about his body spins with the howling winds and disperses, completely unnoticed in the first place as his opportunities overtook his awareness.

“Huh…?”

“Oy! Adris, that was good! You had it!? You have it—!?”

What Adris has is his fall stopped by the body of another.

At his back is a “corpse”, still unmoving.

Forever, those open eyes with black irises will stare at nothing, both far and near.

Everything she spoke cut deeply, stirring rebuttals that were undoubtedly real and without lies to obscure them.

He’d spoken them to a woman who has now become unmoving.

Her bright imagination will never conjure another proud dragon in the span of seconds.

No matter what secrets he could learn from Rantil, the one that entices and repulses the most is a simple question.

(…

… Why couldn’t “she” be real? Are my feelings real, the ones I discovered, if she is “false”?)

“Forget that stupid fake, it’s just a bug! Keep singing to Rantil~!”

A nervousness that was missing in the exuberant praise of earlier creeps through.

Despite patting Adris on the shoulder in a friendly manner, this specter moves swiftly to wrapping around him in a distracting “hug” as she whispers.

“Whatever… secrets you wanted to find out from her, Rantil will help you find, instead! So, let’s just—?”

“… It wasn’t just the secrets I loved.”

“… Huh!?”

Rantil flinches at this opening thought, confirming to Adris that it’s not a secret he’s sharing…

“It wasn’t only the… feeling of being better than others by proving my intellect. Did you know that, Rantil?”

(What is “genuine”?)

“The doll before him is unmoving, unwitnessing, and purely a facsimile without a soul.”

“The corpse of his beloved is laying murdered before him, forever not arriving at a future because she had it brutally stolen along with her chance at living.”

Two truths that should be impossible to coexist, also…?

(Both of these are…)

“… true despite the paradox, aren’t they, Rantil?”

The bitter smile he reveals to Rantil turns her head from him, keeping the deep darkness within from being seen shifting in response.

“Well… that’s… a matter of… perspective… kinda~?”

(This girl can’t lie, and she knows my hidden thoughts. She can only tell the truth, especially if the truth will harm others.)

Two perspectives, one which considers her betraying him and the other which guarantees that she has unfortunate limits, find an uneasy agreement…

“You’re playing me, Rantil.”

“No, not playing! That—!?”

But when his cross lifts, she hisses and ceases to envelop him.

“I understand the sort of… contradictory creature you are now.”

The creature’s wimple shakes left and right, before she screams. “Oh-my-GAWD!

Rantil was attempting to show the path that would work… differently from this weirdness you’ve fallen into!?”

“What is the truth about all of this, then?”

One way of looking at “Rantil the Allip” is generous in claiming she’s a victim, while the other names her as an enemy.

“Why do I have to be considered a vile burden instead of a help!?”

Shrieking like a little girl caught in a fib, she flips away to float just out of reach of his emblem as she grows cattier.

“What is the definition of the truth, anyway!? Is a lying little liar like you gonna recognize it even if a girl spells it out!?

What is a lie!? You’ve shared so many honest things with Rantil using lies that even Rantil doesn’t know what a lie really is anymore!”

If a floating cloak without an owner beneath it can look petulant, Rantil somehow manages by shifting her “hips” and flouting his seriousness.

“Che, If you ask what ‘truth’ is, then Rantil says ‘it’s a silver dagger meant to murder the myth’! But, also…!”

Changing tone in mid screech, the mystery called Rantil glares at him as the other spectators cower. For once in her miserable life, this mysterious companion refuses to crumble to Adris’ anger.

“… Crossbearer!

It is too much to demand answers… to questions that will deny you…! Not even this entity will speak a truth designed to harm you, for truth was spoken before when this entity swore itself for your sake…”

Adris’ cross raises to oppose them, rather than invite.

Even if this skittish imp refuses with the idea that she’s protecting him, the prospect of his answers being withheld for that reason only sends caustic acid up his throat.

“What I felt for Serras, and what she felt for me, was ‘genuine’, but never expressed. Are you going to call that true or fake!?”

“… That’s… not wrong, but… also not correct.”

(Right. A contradiction, in a way. We loved/hated each other equally. So what do you call that sort of relationship if not “love”?)

Adris now has a notion that something was born on Zennia from that contradiction.

Whatever the form of this monster that he doesn’t wish to comprehend, it’s what deeply impacted Ave’s attraction toward him.

(What are those girl’s thoughts…? What did I think about them—?)

Despite the brief clarity, the storm in his Inner Expanse is cracking through again.

Thoughts that tried to make sense of all of this instead can only confront contradictions and confusions.

Without the clear mantra that “embracing secrets” granted, the path is now chaotic once more.

Cradling “Serras” with nothing else remaining to hold onto, for Rantil refuses to be close to him again, Adris’ aura training is meeting its limits.

All he can do is babble when the fever sends nails into his memories.

“What is genuine is so unappreciated. Little moments, impossible extravagances called ‘the real thing’, we overlook all the time…?”

Overlooked only until it comes to deciding what is true and what isn’t. Left gazing into her fine face, Adris finally closes her eyes.

“Surprisingly real, but also surprisingly fake? Darkness granted so much ‘real’, but it couldn’t recreate the original…”

To the floor he slides, the degenerated world and his personal tormentor hovering in view, but now spinning.

“WHY CARE ABOUT SOMETHING ‘GENUINE’!? That can only… destroy you…!”

(I was looking for something…)

“Genuinity” is what he decided to seek, even if his allip calls it dangerous.

In “her” moment of seeking it, this “fake” had succumbed to its knife point thrust into a nascent heart, proving that Rantil is correct.

Rather than being made real, what was genuine unmade, instead.

(What is the tipping point that must be reached not to…?)

The thought of insufficiency explains a great deal!

Like a tadpole seeking to become the toad, without all of the right conditions it cannot morph into…!

“Ah… ahahahaha! I see, I see!

Darkness, alone, can’t grant a ‘genuine’ existence! Is this the truth, Rantil!?”

“HAAAH!? It feels wrooong—!?”

Rediscovering the knife that “Serras” turned on herself, Adris verbally slices the allip with it. Whatever dangerous realness was laced under the unnecessary words, Rantil flees from further wounds.

“Okay, I get it! Even if its hidden secrets grant the emotions necessary to become…? Maybe, that’s why everything here all seems both real and fake…?”

(A world that can never exist except as twisted ideas is also not one that will survive without…)

“GEEH!?”

“EEeEeEeEeEeEeEeEeEeEeEeEeEeEeEeEeEeEeEeEeEeEeEeEeE!”

The ringing cross bolsters his thoughts with this revelation, cracking the tower’s false stone with the impact of its sonic booms. Creatures which assembled to seemingly welcome a lord scatter into illusions of shifting mirages while howling incomprehensibly. An audience of thousands, millions even turn tail at the bells which stand for…!

(Right, the bells originally belonged to…)

Only Rantil remains behind in awe of the Viscous Veil’s tantrum, willing to be chopped at by the turbulence manifesting.

“aDrIs…”

A black aura begins to wind around Adris, fueling itself with thoughts that find purchase in his truest desires. Rather than inviting Rantil, this seductive taste of unknown authority only appeals to a strange boy.

“Does this explain why I could never be ‘real’, except when pretending to be others or around someone to ‘play’ off…?”

All that he could build was lies, but the spark called “genuinity” was sometimes lit in the bleakness of Xin. Either with Serras or wrapped up within the plots he concocted in search of vengeance and justice to the point of forgetting how empty he felt.

“Only when the lies were given feelings that matched their objectives and wants, when the miring details and inescapable repercussions of my ‘acting’ built up to the climax of the tale I was weaving…”

Only when the lies became real by precise intent or force majeure, to cease being just a “guise” and become “vengeance delivered to those deserving it” when the conclusion could no longer be avoided…!

Now, he must accept a draw he doesn’t wish to call “obvious” with how long it’s taken him to accept it.

“Rantil, when I could make a ‘person’ to stand in for me, I felt safe.”

“You were never safe…! To exist without ‘existing’ is no different from being one of us ‘friends’…!?”

(But I felt that way, no matter how fake others would call it!)

Struggling to stand, he only manages to kneel while staring up at his oldest, strangest ally.

“Others say that I am nothing, but in each act I carried out, I brought transformation to the lives of mighty warriors, terrible regents, and capricious merchants!”

Strength put into his grip rises to challenge her, or to reach, Adris isn’t quite sure…

“The plots… ‘stories’ I made and set into motion are still remembered, some of them!”

(“The Flight of the Captive Hawk”, a regent’s warrior wife who murdered her tyrannical husband and assumed the rule of a province! I made that! Even if it had no name, I also freed that spoiled old princess from the crime of falling in love for the wrong reason and with the wrong man, no matter her embarrassment!

Hero, villain, or instigator, I made tales on Xin from my exploits!)

The aura about him grows, feeding on the gray flesh of the tower.

It sucks out the lingering emotions, seeking to understand them.

With time as its impetus even aura can age and refine. What happens during an ascension, however?

“Pursuing justice: raw, cold, and absolute…! But, not embracing it to its fullest? Okay, Serras, I guess I was limiting myself!”

(Why did she believe in something I didn’t truly embrace?)

“Being afraid of believing in childish hopes that had gripped even you!? To act like some hero, haha, no, a true villain that could crush all the puny ones that committed crimes merely to see themselves act…!”

(Am I going to destroy the Alchemaster!?)

The mansion above gathers clouds at its base to perch on.

It dominates the sky and shines golden forever, without a hint of imperfection.

(Who would be stupid enough to claim that, but…!?)

Crafted in such a rush, it lacked any details that gave it the genuinity needed to come to life like his other plots.

Yet, the hand that grips a singing cross is now…!

“Rantil, no matter how fake it was at the start, haven’t I already stumbled into a truly genuine role!? Even if I don’t understand how I accomplished it… I can’t even deny what I’ve become now!

This is…!?”

(Scary!)

“AWESOME!” Like the child he is physically, Adris cries out in adulation the same as Rantil would. “Ahahaha! Rantil, I have my answer! I’ve already accomplished the act of finding a ‘genuine’ thing on my own, haven’t I!?”

The darkness surging through him finally escapes when the cross ejects it.

From its points, a great ocean swirls out to sweep up all present.

Even the golden mansion above is forced to hesitate at the display, losing its luster briefly.

For the deluge reaches ever higher, aiming upward as the…!

“STUPID ADRIS!?

WHAT ARE YOU DOOOIIIIIINNNNNNNN~GGGGGGG!”

“I found it, even though you refused to tell me! It’s…!”

Three people whirl in this black ink that gathers toward a core with scraping suction.

Like a spiral of the stars in the heavens of Zennia, what that clever Neesiette had called a distant galaxy…!

“I can turn their concealed sins and deepest, unspoken desires into a power that I alone manipulate, no, guide!”

Tumbling through the air over the mountaintop, below is a revived Petripolis that is burning with the lights of lives half-remembered. Adris still manages to wrap his arm around an inanimate doll, for no matter how fake she is, the lingering affection in Adris’ heart can’t be wrong to be catered to!

“A [false god] can no longer be denied! Too many people who believe have created the ‘details’ for me! By their desires and actions, I’m proved ‘real’!”

He has no basis to claim this, but the sweeping ink that blocks light only grows more fierce. Whatever path he was going down before, his spine is now on fire with the possibilities of…!

“Why can only lies bring us together, while only the truth, the weight of honest conviction, can birth love!?

TELL ME, RANTIL!”

Lies had brought Adris to everyone he even remotely cares about, but with each…!

“AS IF RANTIL KNOWS!? STOP ASKING QUESTIONSSSSS!

YOU’RE GONNA BRING—!?”

“That thing that hides behind a curtain!? Too late for that, probably, so let’s finish this!”

(Why does nothing related to the unknown bring the same fear anymore?)

“I want to experience that ‘perfect love’ that Castile waxed on forever about, to find out if it was the same as Serras’ and mine, damned be the consequences!”

As self-serving as it is, to that thing between worlds called the Viscous Veil, such a rationale as “never carrying out an act without having a reason” had forced it to accept him. The cross and he had been changed, “dealt with” by making him a co-conspirator and then abandoned.

“Even your horrific friends only cause me immense, if temporary, suffering now, Rantil! So, why should I fear the curtain meant to protect me!?”

The storm is narrowing, funneling the three of them with its currents into…!

“Crossbearer, you understand nothing!”

Rantil somehow wraps around Adris’ arm, pleading as they approach the end together.

“DON’T FORGET ABOUT RANTI~L, THOUGH! Rantil… wants you to succeed!? This isn’t a lie, so please don’t…!”

Crushing the specter to himself, Adris, “Serras”, and Rantil become a bullet together.

“GACK!?”

(This stupid allip said that I can’t love others because I don’t love myself… so let’s try this: I’ll agree to love the act of being someone else, more than I could ever be with how empty I was inside after losing everything too often!)

If what is genuine is only earned in the pursuit, then love must be the same.

If lies could earn him something genuine when truth was used as the final ingredient, then surely…!

(Power, victory, vengeance, and love…!

They all have the same goal and parts!)

“I’ll never let you get away before I prove you wrong, Rantil!”

“EEEVIIIIILLLLLL!”

A blasphemous world twisted into dark shapes and unapproachable heretical concepts vanishes, replaced by a blue sky as the fabric of this otherworld is consumed by the shining cross.

Its sights disappear into the gullet of the Emperor’s tool, distantly forgotten as soon as they vacate Adris’ thoughts. Only the misty valley below and the horizon which speaks of lands Adris has yet to see remain.

(I’m a false god, so why can’t I be more? Why can’t every guise I wear be as real as the real thing!?)

Lacking details were ever a curse on Adris’ plots.

Giving so much attention to the minor points, he’d been undone quite often by incongruities accruing during the act, ones he could’ve never been expected to grasp without encountering first.

If he had the power to give indisputable truth to his acts, to become real where this “Serras” failed…

(I would be able to accomplish what I never have, even as a false god… the perfect con that forces the world to admit its authenticity.

To overcome “real” with…)

Toward the same manse owned by an indecisive maestro three figures plummet, reborn into a waking world.

(Wait. Wait…)

“HUFF, HUUUUUUFFFF!

LEGGO OF THE DOLL!”

“This isn’t just some doll, it’s… another’s property!”

(Why are we falling to our deaths!? Why carry me up high and then drop me, you stupid cross!?)

An allip descends at a rate slower than terminal velocity, but only by a bit. As the endpoint where they splat becomes bigger and more sudden, Adris considers dropping the baggage.

(I’m not gonna abandon these feelings, even if…! Even if that past is dead, my memories aren’t and—!?

Ah…)

“Ah—!”

Emotions fail to logic and physics, though, as the struggling boy suddenly loses his grip on the thin blademaiden when she slides away.

With an open mouth, he watches her plummet to the tower and flop three separate times from the huge impact.

Peace is gifted to the corpse as it ceases to bounce.

Descending much more slowly, Adris finds it troubling, but also relieving, that this “Serras” stays in one piece without splattering everywhere.

“Insipid… Crossbearer…!”

“… If I break her, Falke will discover, and…”

Outside, the air is so clear, despite the eternal overcast.

Senses that were tuned out within the other world are allowed to play.

(Oh? Everything feels so… vibrant. Was I always ignoring so many floral notes…?)

Wonderful scents, of false flowers and salty crystals that dissolve into the air.

Such a verdant surrounding, close to the experimental gardens of the Alchemaster that smell of distant nectar, honey, and close-by girl.

Girly smell, the smell of soft skin and lavender and sunshine and daisies and a subtly salty taste between thighs that are so inviting that…

They can be tasted, smelled, and rubbed. A cornucopia of delights, females are.

(Everything is very… very vibrant… too…

… too much so much ahhhh, why was I…!?)

If one thinks of the pleasures of the Castillo, the ultimate pleasure is clearly of the flesh.

Of noisy, wet effort that adds up to a clear goal.

The joining of partners in mutual, or one-sided, effort to share their flavors with each other…

The closest smell, taste, and cunny is within pouncing range, eager for Adris’ own taste!

He can’t recall why he dislikes her anymore, so he figures it’s fine to demonstrate his feelings personally.

“STUPID CROSSBEARER!?

SO CLOSE TO THE BEST ROUTE, BUT YOU CHOSE SOMETHING BIZARRE AGAIN!? AAAAH, HAAHAAAAA———AAAAHHH!!!”

That cunny is pounding the floor, kneeled over and weeping in public. Behaving exactly like a spoiled kid, she definitely acts like she should be bullied.

“A’HICK…! Rantil… Rantil should’ve never chosen him…! This is what will always happen, even if for him, Rantil becomes…”

With so many people waiting to see up her cloak to her naked skin, it’s a wonder nobody has raped her yet. She tries to keep her back to him, but soon he’ll see everything.

It would only be justified if they climbed the tower right now, unseen, then leaped over and took turns thrusting their cocks into her slender, lovable body until she was filled to the brim with seed.

Rape is the most effective way to acquire sex, after all.

This is a transaction that eliminates all guile and unnecessary wasting of time, after all!

It’s also the way she prefers, right, this slutty girl that nearly shows her bare butt!?

(RIGHT RIGHT RIGHT THIS GIRL LIKES IT HARD FAST WET—!)

If she wants it or not, it’s preferable that she does, but also she’s still a warm hole, and it’s fine if he leaps right at her!

To pound into her soppy, super-tight passage until he’s—!

“… ‘Mind shall wrack and rave, burdened by answers whose questions derange’… [Words of Pain]…”

Brought out of her meaningless bawling by the approaching boy who is gonna make her his slave-girlfriend-wife-breeding mare like the laws of nature demand, this beautiful, slender brat shares the omen of…!

“… you are a pervert that exuberantly lusts for little girls and would be rightly rejected by society for it if discovered…”

“GYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

The horror is too much.

Adris’ heart shatters from the stress, collapsing his arteries and blocking off aura with shame.

He instantly dies (as a man).

“NO! NO! I like… big breasts! Like… Lycia’s!?”

His hands are numb from the crushing accusation.

Gathering gray goop under his fingernails as he furiously scratches!

The clear day suddenly clouds over, all of the fervor for rubbing against Rantil’s skin drying up.

“… I just… like… Rantil, only your tender, hugable, bully-able body, though, AHHH, but not just your body, also…!?”

(WHAT IS THE BEST PART ABOUT THIS OBNOXIOUS TRAVELING PLEASURE TOOL? IS THERE A GOOD PART!?)

“It… OF COURSE! Fucking you reminds me of being with Serras when she was younger, except you won’t shut up…!?”

“Haaaah, so this is what it feels like to be turned down by a guy…?”

Equal stress seems to flow out of the little girl who keeps sighing, the will to live draining from her undead form.

“No!? I don’t like Rantil, but I also appreciate you!?”

“Sure, thanks, I love you, too~!”

Nothing can halt the need to merge bodies!

But, that need is doing nothing to help him achieve it!

“I want… I want to…!”

(But, to fuck a Rantil, this childlike allip, willingly and in front of others, wouldn’t I also be…!?)

“ISN’T RANTIL A DEGENERATE, IMMATURE BITCH WHO LIKES ME ACTING LIKE AN EVIL JERK!? DON’T YOU SOAK THE BED WITH HOW HOT YOU GET!? SO, CAN I HELP WANTING TO ROLL IN THE MUD EVERY ONCE IN A WHILE, TOO!?”

Slamming his fist into his other hand, he nods furiously before reaching down to open his pants.

“ISN’T THIS GENUINE!? IT’S ABSOLUTELY GENUINE THAT I WANT TO FUCK YOU, RANTIL!”

“Genuinely creepy, yep~!”

Almost bored as she hisses at him, Rantil still refuses to turn around.

“Hmph, I’m done with you. Go build some clay around your dick and hump it.”

Now it’s Adris’ turn to cry.

No matter how genuine this assertion he made, how accurate it probably is, he can only drown the rooftop in tears while kneeling as he’s forced to admit…

(Being turned down by this lust-brained brat hurts so much more than giving myself to her!)

“… I… would enjoy very much having sex with you, even if you’re a total scam… so, Rantil, can we possibly, just as friends…” Shuffling closer on his knees, Adris lifts his hand like a suffering maiden. “Maybe even just because… we’re business partners, fighting the same battles…!?”

Unsure of what face to show to appeal to her, a dying Adris resorts to begging…

“Okay, enough insulting Rantil for today~. Or forever…”

A cold press to his forehead with her index finger, and suddenly all of the desire vanishes.

“Ahh…”

Her innate mystery draws out both unnatural passion and the demeaning depths that Adris would plunge into for a quick release…

(She’s obscuring the secret that “Adris would eagerly have sex with girls of Rantil’s apparent age”…?

I want to die… please… I’m sorry, Serras…)

Along with the secret being “sealed”, the lust that was overtaking him from the Castillo’s curse also appears temporarily nullified so long as Rantil isn’t considered a proper target.

“… Thank you…”

“Oh? He thanks me now that he doesn’t want me!? How nice~! Rantil is loved so much…”

Floating away, the allip who dislikes the light of day hides in the shadow of the parapet by lying down, making sure Adris can’t see her body as she sulks.

“Thank Rantil by properly killing yourself~!”

“Oh, so that’s how this stuff works?”

Touching the goop below him and watching it squirm, then flee from Adris’ touch, its inner mechanism is now plainly obvious.

It’s also the perfect mental salvation from the situation.

(My, my, to think that someone on another world would replicate aura threads? But in a semi-solid form?)

It’s too easy to perceive now.

Even the flow rate is the same. Equal limitations breed similar utilizations, Adris must guess.

Despite the horrors, and the grief, and the loss…

(I am obviously… so much more now… and it feels amazing.)

“Everything is a little more apparent. Especially how deeply you’ve fallen…”

A shit-eating grin is fine, Adris muses, though he uses it on a little freak pretending that she doesn’t like him.

“Shut up! Rantil doesn’t like you right now~! Don’t try to hide your stupidity by acting flirty!”

“Ah, the little masochist revolts, how cute.”

Possessing white skin in the real world, the allip forgoes appearing as the formless insanity she truly represents while kicking her feet in frustration.

“Hmmph! A real big man is what you’re tryn’a be, huh!? No, you’re a little, tiny dick bully boy, mistreating innocent girls! Die like the virgin you are, HIIIEEEE!”

“You weren’t innocent even when you were an imp. And I don’t get that insult at the end…?”

“Eternal virgin!”

A step toward her sends the allip flitting further away while hugging the parapet like a cockroach. She refuses to let him see more of her naked body, even if he’s no longer being controlled by his needs.

“… If you really wanted to be nice to Rantil, you would’ve listened to her earlier. Then, Rantil would’ve been happy to give sucky until all of the bad stuff came out~…”

“I have no idea what you were doing, but don’t think I have forgotten or can be distracted.”

“Geh!”

Too tired to chase her, Adris just basks in the daylight while feeling his Inner Expanse solidify into its final form. All of the frivolous banter can’t shake the completeness that settles into his mood.

Even the act of extending his arm and tensing it, squeezing a fist to catch the wind, demonstrates the effectiveness of an ascension step on transforming someone.

(Suffering turns into satisfaction so quickly, Serras…)

“Forget your attempt at altering my ascension path…” Adris flips his cross before catching it. “You can’t fool me, no matter how many times you try! It was a useless treason!”

“It wasn’t treason, Rantil is just tired of you being weird! But now you’re more weird, so weirder, and Rantil is, too…”

(I’ve become something you can’t easily read, perhaps?)

When that thought provokes no response, Adris chuckles to himself while falling backwards to the ground.

The sky is so distant without black storms. He’s not even sure what he should be aiming for if not to pierce them.

(Knowledge is so instinctual for ascending beings… hehehe!)

“Well, the fullest extent of my glory lies to be discovered, but I can enlighten you as to the merest of its abilities. Shall I do so…?” Granting an adult’s teasing to his tone with a slightly darker draw of his syllables, Adris rolls to face Rantil with his head propped under an arm. “Miss [Self-resolving Mystery], [Forever alone at the edge of acceptance while staring in at it longingly]?”

“AAHHH!? SHUT UP!? SHUT UUUUUUUUPPPPPP!”

“Stop throwing that crap at me!?”

Balls of gray goop keep striking Adris’ face and chest, flung by a riled up girl who won’t stop screaming.

“NEVER CALL ME THAT IN THE OPEN, CROSSBEARER! KAAAAAAAH!

… Are yah tryn’a get little old me ganked!?”

“You know what I am, why is knowing what you are…?”

“You’re the idiot going around telling people what kind of ‘buddy’ you are! Don’t include me in your suicide pact! Rantil doesn’t want to be sent back or locked up!”

(Is just the basis of your contradiction so spectacularly dangerous? It’s not like anyone I’ve met knows that I’m just a human, so…)

“Why are you worried, Rantil? Despite my power, it’s not like anyone can enslave me like can happen to you.”

A chuckle at the end invites a response, but the clouds float cheerily by for a bit before…

“…

… wait.

Wait, wait, wait.”

Rantil’s green eyes widen as she finally lets her wimple fall back to see her face.

Staring while horizontal on the roof like Adris, she just keeps stammering at her supposed “true love”.

“Waitwaitwaitwaitwait, what do you think you are!?”

“… What do you mean? I’m Adris, your owner. Even if we don’t bother with such formalities now…”

“WROOOOO~ONG! [S-P-E-A-K-E-R], not owner! But… no, you, what do you think you are!? You’re a being of dark thoughts and deeds, a great evil to boot, too!”

“You keep trying to flatter me, yet always forget that it doesn’t work on me…”

Even as Adris says that, a subtle smile is something he is forced to banish as he stares at her more sternly.

“No matter how something like you views me, I’m a bearer of great power, sure… But, under the well-crafted and eccentric illusion…”

(It’s a bit embarrassing to admit, though I guess I’m a little more now that I’ve reached the next stage.)

“Rantil, you do know I’m human by now, right?”

“…

… Huh…?”

Blinking rapidly, this chatty girl goes deathly silent after.

Just… staring creepily at Adris.

(Am I so compelling? You’re sending my heart fluttering~.)

“Are you really this dull…? No matter what I show to those four girls or say in front of people while pretending not to find it stupid, it’s all improvisation or allusion! A cross is still a tool, even if we’re linked, you silly girl.”

Adris sends his favorite, all-giving possession spinning on his fingertip, keeping its heaviness aloft like an acrobat.

“Have I gotten a little better at hand sleights!? Haha!” Even though he normally dislikes Rantil, he offers a warm grin while winking his left eye. “Well, disregarding that, no matter what role I play, Rantil, I’m still just a Xin’el (human) named Adris fehl Dain. Haha, I figured you’d have caught onto the farce by now, you squirrelly—!”

“HIIIIIIEEEEE!”

“OY, STOP POUNDING YOUR HEAD ON THE ROOF!”

Almost full-force is what this allip gives to her efforts to bash her brains in!

Too scared to approach and stop her, Adris just gawks at the screaming girl as she pays for her sins with pain.

“OH—

MY—

GAAAWD!

WHY— IS— HE—!?

SO— FUCKING— DENSE!?”

Toward the heavens she finally turns her wild eyes, facing the valley and vomiting her screams toward the citizens below.

“AIYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

Rantil gives up! GIVES UP…!”

After screaming, the girl gives the look of a human being looking at pure dogshit.

“… Fine, whatever, Adris is a ‘‘‘human’’’!” Fingers curl with the word.

“And Rantil is just a ‘‘‘book’’’!” Fingers curl again as she obnoxiously winks her left eye.

After agreeing with the madness brewing between her ears, Rantil collapses to the ground. Her purple twintails stop dancing as life drains away.

“Ah… yeah… you’re a very useful… book, Rantil.”

“Mmm, thank~s… Well, Mister ‘‘‘Human’’’, if you understand what Rantil is, then what else can you do with your new, wonderful powers…?”

(Hm? Don’t you know?)

“Shouldn’t you be sharing that wisdom in spoonfuls?”

“… Ah…”

At this question, Rantil grows quiet, before tracing the ground with her finger idly.

Rather than broach the topic herself, this sieve of dark information instead was waiting for…!?

(AHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!)

“AHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

“STOP LAUGHING! RANTIL HAS PLENTY OF MYSTERIES LEFT TO HIT YOU WITH BESIDES UNRAVELING A STUPID ‘‘‘HUMAN’S’’’ TALE!”

“Oh, this is great! And I find it strange, too, because it’s so intuitive that I even know its name…”

“HM!? You know what it does, without reading me!? Is it whispering to you inside!?”

Truly excited for the first time today, Rantil curls up like a cat while hiding her belly. With some interest, actually quite a lot, the eager girl literally salivates at the hint of a secret being unveiled.

“Okayyyy, Rantil is listening~! Share it, now!”

(Creepy kid… but it’s not like knowing its name and how it expresses itself solves all of my problems. So, why not play up my standing with this idiot and have her give me some “advice”?)

Even if something is a doll, it can have definition beneath the exterior.

Willing to be near it again as a part of his show, Adris sits beside the still “Serras” and places a hand to hers.

“Rantil, what I’ve gained reveals much about the world around me.”

(No doubt parasitizing… no, symbiotically joining with my aura senses. They’ve become truly blinding, agonizing even!)

A precocious allip called Rantil is a little girl covered by a tattered cloak. But, beneath the cloak is more than just naked splendor and fashionable boots…!

— Within this darkness, a library contained within a steel black cage beckons, begging the cage door melded shut to open so that its information can be shared. It languishes without being read by eager eyes, molding and decaying! Burns to cinders without lips to speak of its secrets and give travel to its thoughts! Bodies are stacked between each row of shelves, claiming a graveyard full of victims that sated their curiosities and paid for it with…

This deathtrap’s name is Rantil, and for any but its true owner, it gifts madness and infirmity of mind and soul…! —

(Even if you are human-like, what you truly are is a mind-numbing, ghostly paradox. “A trove of destructive wisdom that will not rest until all of its secrets are revealed.”)

The two sights can easily overlap in Adris’ mind, even though he has never thought such ideation a common way he looks at the world. Adris has only ever been practical, lacking an eye for beauty and creativity.

Squeezing a cold hand, Adris feels this sort of mentality belongs more to…

“‘Rantil the Allip’ is alive with an unknown purpose, just like ‘An automaton fashioned by falsity and gifted no heart’.”

Rantil screeches in fear when Adris pats that automaton.

“You’re reading us!? That’s… incredibly dangerous…! And…”

“But only the first part of this wonderful Talent, so keep calm! For, what it really sings to me with is its name is…”

(A name birthed by its confounding design!)

Only within his soul does its nature spell itself out, in confusing and roundabout words that likewise have a fearsome cut of finality to them.

— BOUNDARY OF REAL AND UNREAL.

Those things deemed as not existing, ideas that ever long to be expressed in the imagination and eyes of others, shall flock to one who swears to wear them as a guise.

The breath of life that guides intuition and fuels creation shall answer the need for false perfection in craft, denying those who would disbelieve from a position of dubious supremacy.

[A misstep that gives cause to doubt shall reveal the true villainous ambitions beneath.]

[One’s actions which deny the guise shall slough it off, demanding one’s true feelings as compensation.]

THE FURTHER ONE DESCENDS INTO THE DEPTHS OF THIS OTHER SELF AND AWAY FROM STATED TRUTH, THE FULLER AND MORE GENUINE THE FLAME OF FALSEHOOD SHALL BURN AS IT SEEKS TO OUTSHINE WHAT IS WRONGFULLY CALLED REAL.

WHEN “WHAT IS” IS MURDERED ALONG WITH ALL SURVIVORS THAT COULD CONTEST ITS DEATH, “WHAT COULD BE” WILL BECOME ETERNALLY MORE REAL THAN [TRUTH] … —

(I’ve never heard of something so depraved, yet so appealing…! To deny reality itself just because I’ve decided to?)

“What a perfect name!

[Authentic Fiction]! It—!”

“… AHHHH, AAAAAHHH!?

DON’T SAY ITS NAMEEEE~E!”

(Why? I can’t explain it if I—)

The cross begins to shine a deep hue, building up a sparkle of night as a humming pierces Adris’ ears.

From its grasp on him an electrical jolt runs up his arm to his heart.

As if a wide-scale technique has activated, the air and the gray matter that makes up the broken tower draw toward him.

Condensing in the full might of something unleashing…!

— CHOOSE THE NARRATIVE —

“Narrative…?”

A voice so familiar speaks from within, singing the words from Adris’ body as if he is an instrument.

(That… condescending tone! I’ll never forget it!)

An Emperor with white pupils and an unliving, gaunt pride that was inflicted on Adris’ copy is now demanding information!?

“Bastard, why can’t you just die!? Get out of my cross!”

“What are you activating!? You’re hurting my eyeeees!?”

The dark light continues to spread, swirling about the cross as it sucks up more sunlight.

“I… don’t know!?”

(Speaking its name activated the Talent!?)

“Surely you can stifle a Talent”, is what Adris would like to believe after chatting with the slayers and hearing their unbelievable powers explained.

But the idea of declining sends Adris into a dizzy spiral, colliding with the reality of “Serras’” corpse.

When faced with this… of a life cut short that never should’ve existed, Adris’ gut isn’t so tight once the anger replaces logic…

(… He… he did this to me…! He made me feel all of that pain again!)

Along with this doll’s particulars are the knowledge of who made it obnoxiously glaring.

“Falke, Servant of the Kestners”

(This, all of this is because of him!)

Such a name deserves the most immense punishment possible, especially for stealing away that…!

— EVIL CHOSEN —

— BOND CHOSEN —

— CHOOSE THE NARRATIVE —

“Huh!? When did I choose—!?”

“Stop thinking! Stop existing! Die quickly, Adris, before you mess something else upppp!”

“Shut up, Rantil!”

Screaming at her accomplishes nothing, because this cowering allip seems like she’s melting into the luminous shadows that the darklight from the cross casts.

(Help me, don’t run!)

The shining cross is starting to match the sun that’s obscured by clouds. All of the energies inside Adris are flowing toward this mass of pure darkness.

Only one thread links, a hook tugging incessantly on his mind as if to take the rest if it’s not satisfied!

(CRAP!? OW, OWWW!? Narrative…!? Ploy…? Reason for acting… seeking…?)

No answer will definitely kill Adris, this is instinctively understood.

“What other reason is there for a con!? I fucking hate him! He’s trying to steal away my comrades, isn’t he!? With appealing dreams and false hopes!”

(He can’t do that! THAT’S WHAT I DO!)

“I WANT TO GIVE HIM THE PUNISHMENT HE DESERVES! A POETIC ONE, TO MATCH HIS SMUG FUCKING PERSONALITY!”

(Oh, that was so stupid—)

— NARRATIVE CHOSEN: POETIC REVENGE —

— THE PLAYERS SHALL ASCEND TO THE STAGE —

— LET THE TALE THAT WAS NEVER MEANT TO BE TOLD, NOW: —

The darkness congealed on the cross finally booms out with the gonging of enormous bells. This commanding cacophony reveals, all around and appearing from nowhere…

(Curtains!?)

Weaves of thin cloth, wrapping about with the impossible, direction-less grandeur of the entity which obscures also hides Zennia from Adris.

The cloth frays and tears, allowing blinding radiance out when the cross’ energies boom again! Its oscillating spotlights pierce through skin, heating deep inside while leaving Adris nakedly revealed.

(Oh, no—)

An inhuman and distant anger seeps all around.

Whipping with the abused curtains, these emotions send Adris to the ground to try to escape sight…

(It had forgotten about me, but has it now recalled?)

That realm folds up and becomes unseen the next moment, winds rushing toward the cross and pulling gray with it in the low pressure of this sudden absence.

Pseudoprósōpon that deformed into muck reasserts its original shapes, rebuilding the tower step-by-step as the sun’s progress ticks with the events unfolding.

Adris’ senses reveal the whispers from the shadows’ enjoyment and surprise, before those unseen busybodies who fled earlier scream out orders.

(“Gather for the show, again…?”)

When the last flare of power dies away and the cross turns silent…

Time proceeds according to the rhythm of a new conductor.

All of the havoc unleashed by “Serras” has vanished.

In its place, a tower as unblemished as it was this morning and the day before lingers in its temporary perfection, awaiting the manse’s inevitable reshaping of it. Fresh, as if for the start of a new story…

A Codex Rantilius is shivering in the shadows of a parapet’s corner, refusing to even insult her “owner” as she stares in horror.

And, there’s a “Serras”…

“AH!?”

Adris falls back when the “corpse” sits up, staring into the distance of peaceful valleys before blinking.

Methodically and without emotion, it lifts its arms and contracts its fingers, turning its wrists. Then, gaining awareness of life beside it the doll gazes at him, before tilting its head sideways.

This “Serras” asks…

“Greetings…

… Not-Maker. ‘For the enjoyment of the assigned target, act to fulfill all non-conflicting orders’. Carrying out enumerated orders.”

Even if Neesiette could be called unemotional, she is positively thrilling as a chat partner in comparison to this impersonal woman. After Adris doesn’t respond, the copy of his lover tilts her head in the opposite direction with an uncanny abruptness.

“… Awaiting non-conflicting orders, exhibiting personality traits in absence of orders.”

To mark this assertion, “Serras” lifts her hand to her full hair and arbitrarily brushes it from her face.

For a moment, Adris’ heart skips a beat, until the logical mind he prides himself in turns it steady.

(That’s like what Serras would do… but missing the coolness.)

“Personality trait displayed. Other traits… incomplete. Moving to secondary directions…” Still using Serras’ voice, the lack of self makes this doll sound brooding.

“What?”

“— Interrogative acknowledged.

Response, reply indicated…”

Blank-faced, this doll… this woman…

Tilts her head the opposite direction, before blurting out more nonsense.

“No personality resonating with core of complementary partner. Assistance required to reply.”

“… No personality?”

“Affirmative. No personality resonated when required. Cascading mistakes predicted. Further independent action prohibited. Please resolve lack of personality.”

(No personality…? But… you are…?)

Around this doll… this woman…

A wispy aura of darkness flickers, barely visible with Adris’ supernatural senses.

In addition to an inner power of its own fueling this manifestation, Adris can make out details that didn’t exist previously about the doll’s true nature, now imprinted on its core of existence.

(“— A potential star —”? What does that mean!? I destroyed the aura core she was leeching off of…)

“Complementary partner, requesting instruction so that this self-contained unit may resume fulfillment of duties. Please re-synchronize.”

Ungainly and inhumanly, this woman without any sense of self or knowledge of Adris’ intentions…

(Complementary partner? That’s me! Even cut off from “Serras”, this doll keeps moving!? It… self-contained… she is… alive without external input!?)

Adris has yet to see a single one of Falke’s dolls act without a connection to the gray matter somehow, yet this one appears disconnected to Adris’ senses. Alive and very disposed to aiding Adris, even… with “re-synchronizing”.

A term that brings a sad look to his face as he smiles sympathetically and waves his hand.

“Mmmm, very tragic that you’ve lost connection with me, I fear it might not return. That can be resolved easily by only me, though! You need to learn some things about the world in order to properly serve me, yes?”

“Response, reply required… unknown response prediction. Awaiting instructions in lieu of reply.”

“Of course, can’t be helped. Caaaan’t be heeeeelped~.” Flipping his hand at the needy doll as if it’s a mild inconvenience, Adris speaks with ease. “I’ll instruct! So, come chat with your older brother for a bit!”

A kind boy with the face of an angel motions for the wonderfully troubled doll to move closer, earning only another blank stare before he slowly nears her instead.

“Don’t worry… I will teach you everything you need to know. So, why not answer all of my questions that you can, so I know what you’re, hmmm, needing to be instructed on, ok?”

“Logic testing request—

All questions permitted and permissions set, so long as primary function ‘Protect the Maker’ is fulfilled with result.”

(Ahahaha! Of course, we’ll “protect him” together, young lady!)

“Hahhh… this is… just the kinda absurdity Rantil expects from pure evil like Adris…”

Rantil is sideways like a lazy cat, watching the dangerous wolf left with the innocent baby lamb begin to sink his teeth in.

(If he tries to “entertain” my friends so well, how could I not return the favor, Rantil…?)

“Then, let’s hear what you can do, first~…?”

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Chapter 108         Table of Contents          Chapter 110