Jayr POV - Nasuverse, Moon, SE.RA.PH, Tsukumihara Academy - 2030 AD
The message lingers in my mind long after the portable terminal's screen has gone dark.
[The Elimination Battle has been cancelled.]
No warning, no explanation, just a single, sterile line of text, delivered with the same emotional weight the Moon Cell would use to announce a system update.
I sit on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on my knees, fingers loosely interlocked, staring at a point on the floor that stopped being interesting several minutes ago.
My breathing is steady, deliberately so.
If I let myself react too quickly, if I let the shock hit before the implications finish lining up, I'll miss something important, and that's how mistakes happen, that's how people die in SE.RA.PH.
Nero stands a few steps away, her posture relaxed but attentive, emerald eyes fixed on me without pressing for attention; she hasn't said a word since the message arrived.
She knows better. When my thoughts start looping like this, I need silence more than reassurance, 'Julius B. Harwey is gone. And if Julius is gone, then Leo is gone too. I don't need the system to confirm it; the logic is brutal and simple. Julius's entire strategy revolved around shielding his brother until the very end. If he fell before the final stage, then either Leo fell with him, or someone hit Julius so decisively that his entire defensive structure collapsed in one blow. Either way, Leo Harwey, the golden boy of the Moon Cell, is out of the war. That fact alone should not be possible.'
In the original flow of events, Leo was untouchable until the final stretch.
The Moon Cell bent probability around him, systems favoured him, opponents failed in ways that couldn't be explained by skill alone; his rise wasn't just expected, it was almost enforced.
The fact that he's fallen now means the board has drastically changed.
I replay the thought again, slower this time, turning it over from every angle, 'This wasn't an accident. This wasn't a lucky strike. This wasn't a system correction. Another Champion has entered the game and made their presence felt. Someone strong enough to erase Julius before his Elimination Battle. Someone precise enough to leave no obvious trace. Someone who didn't just disrupt the flow of events but directly overwrote it.'
My fingers tighten slightly before I relax them again, and I murmur under my breath, "Damn it."
Nero shifts her weight almost imperceptibly, a silent acknowledgement.
Her presence presses against my awareness like a steady hand on my shoulder, grounding without intruding, even silent, she's very much there.
I force myself to move on from stupor to action.
The next moment, I start mentally listing possible ways to gather information.
I could ask NPCs, but SE.RA.PH's background characters are notoriously unreliable when it comes to anything the system or other Masters wants hidden, as they are way too susceptible to being influenced.
I could try questioning other Masters, but most of them are either dead, terrified, or deliberately ignorant of anything that doesn't immediately concern themselves.
Wandering the campus in hopes of spotting traces of an ambush is another option, but the Moon Cell is meticulous; it doesn't leave bloodstains, cracks, or craters lying around, it quickly fixes everything back to its pristine state.
Every avenue feels slow, inefficient, low yield.
The kind of investigation that gets you killed because you're always a step behind.
Then a sudden thought clicks into place.
Julius never used his Private Room.
Unlike every other Master, he didn't trust the accommodations provided by SE.RA.PH.
Instead, he used his absurdly high-level Spiritron Hacking skills to lock down the AV Room and turn it into his personal command centre.
Surveillance feeds, data streams, and emergency contingencies, Julius was paranoid, methodical, and always prepared.
If anyone left something behind, logs, warnings, half-finished countermeasures, it would be him.
The AV Room.
I exhale slowly, 'That can wait a little longer. Right now, I have somewhere else to be.'
The thought settles in my mind with uncomfortable clarity.
I straighten, pushing myself to my feet and slipping the portable terminal back into my pocket.
The room feels smaller than it did a few minutes ago, the walls pressing in just enough to remind me that time is moving whether I like it or not.
Nero straightens as well, and without a word, she shifts into Spirit Form, her presence fading from sight but not from my awareness as her connection to me remains firm and unmistakable.
Together, we leave the Private Room.
The corridors of Tsukumihara Academy are quieter than usual, not empty, but subdued.
Footsteps echo a little too loudly, conversations are shorter, hushed, cut off the moment someone else passes by.
Another sign that the Holy Grail War is thinning the herd.
We make our way toward the rooftop in silence.
When we arrive, the space is empty.
The artificial sky stretches overhead in a flawless imitation of blue, not a cloud in sight, not even the suggestion of wind.
The railing is cool beneath my hand as I step closer, looking out over the campus below.
Students, NPCs and Masters alike move through the grounds in small, scattered clusters.
Far fewer than there should be, each group feels isolated, self-contained, like islands drifting farther apart with every passing day.
I check the time on my terminal, 'It's still early.'
Not by much, but enough that there's nothing to do but wait.
So I wait.
I lean against the railing, eyes unfocused, letting my thoughts drift just enough to keep from spiralling.
Nero remains beside me, unseen but attentive, her presence a quiet anchor in the back of my mind.
The silence stretches.
Then footsteps break the stillness.
Aletha steps onto the rooftop, her stride confident, her posture alert. She raises a hand in greeting when she spots me, but the moment she gets a proper look at my face, her smile falters.
She stops a few steps away and says, "Okay. That look usually means something bad happened."
I manage a wry smile and reply, "Yup. It did."
Aletha exhales slowly, eyes searching my face as if hoping she's misread it.
When I don't contradict her, she grimaces and steps closer, resting her hands on her hips and says, "Alright. Start talking."
I straighten slightly and don't bother easing her into it. There's no point, "My Elimination Battle has just been cancelled."
That gets her attention immediately as her brows knit together, "Cancelled? That doesn't just happen."
I reply, "It does when your opponent gets erased first. Julius B. Harwey is gone."
For a heartbeat, she just stares at me, then I add, because there's no reason not to finish the thought, "And since Julius was shielding his brother, Leo is almost certainly gone too."
The rooftop seems to go quieter.
Aletha's mouth opens, then closes, she looks past me, toward the empty sky full of 0s and 1s, as if expecting the Moon Cell itself to contradict me, but when it doesn't, she lets out a sharp breath before she slowly says, "That's… That shouldn't be possible. I remember that you told me that Leo was one of the favourite Masters taking part in this Holy Grail War... Practically untouchable."
I agree, "He was... Which is why this matters."
She drags a hand through her hair, pacing a few steps before stopping near the railing, "So someone took out Julius before the final stage. Someone strong enough to break the Moon Cell's narrative."
I nod, "Exactly."
Her shoulders tense, "Meaning another Champion."
I confirm, "Meaning another Champion."
Aletha swears under her breath, the sound sharp and very British, "Blimey. So the war just escalated again. Fantastic."
I lean back against the railing beside her, "Pretty much."
For a moment, neither of us speaks; the weight of it settles between us, heavy and uncomfortable.
Below, the campus continues on as if nothing has changed, students moving between buildings, NPCs repeating routines, blissfully unaware that one of the Moon Cell's favoured pieces just got wiped off the board.
Then, Aletha breaks the silence first as she says, her tone shifting from shock to focus, "Then I should tell you what happened on my end. Because I think it may be connected."
She nods once, then straightens and says, "Then I should tell you what happened on my end."
I nod once, "Go on."
She takes a breath and starts from the beginning, recounting her dive into the Arena, the second floor, the Secondary Trigger.
As she speaks, I watch her closely, noting where her cadence changes, where irritation creeps in, where genuine surprise cuts through.
When she mentions the firearms, I wince and mutter, "Again?"
She shoots me a look, pun intended, "Don't start. I'm beginning to think the Arena has a personal vendetta against me."
Despite myself, I snort, then she gets to the part that matters.
Ledram Vassago. Her description lines up disturbingly well with what I'd already suspected. Calm. Polite. No performative cruelty. No sadistic flair. No obvious malice.
Then she says quietly, "He wasn't pretending. I've met liars. I've met monsters wearing friendly faces. This wasn't that."
I nod slowly, "That's what concerns me."
Then she drops the bigger revelation: they made a deal.
That gets my full attention.
Aletha explains it plainly, no ambushes, no underhanded tactics, no sabotage before the Elimination Battle.
A direct fight when the system demands it, and if one of them gets erased, the survivor will do everything in their power to bring the other back, allies included.
The agreement was then sealed with a Concept Contract.
Then she finishes, "And he agreed. Without hesitation."
I let out a low whistle, "That's… bold."
Aletha grimaces and says, "That's one word for it. He agreed too easily. Like it wasn't a risk at all."
That sets off alarms immediately, and I say, "He either has a way to avoid erasure, or he's extremely confident he won't lose."
Hearing that, Aletha nods solemnly, "Exactly."
The first option isn't ideal, but it's manageable, as both Aletha and I have the means to avoid erasure; the second one isn't all that comforting for Aletha.
Then I glance at her and ask, "Did you learn anything about his Servant? Or his Peerage?"
She shakes her head at first, then pauses and says, "There was one. Another member of his Peerage. Another woman."
Something cold slides down my spine, some kind of omen that rings true as Aletha continues, "He introduced her as Sara Pezzini."
The name hits me like a hammer.
My expression changes instantly, and I don't hide my reaction fast enough.
Aletha notices immediately as she asks, "…You know that name."
I reply grimly, "Oh yeah... I really do. If she's who I think she is."
I push myself upright, mind already racing, while I request, "Tell me what she looked like."
Aletha frowns slightly, thinking before she says, "She is a beautiful woman... In that sharp, striking way, with tan skin, intense green eyes and long brown hair that falls over the shoulders."
Every word tightens the knot in my chest as I ask, "Did she have the kind of presence that felt… coiled? Like she was holding something back?"
Aletha's expression darkens as she confirms, "Yes."
I exhale slowly, my thoughts racing as I say, "Then Ledram is likely even more powerful than we thought. Not because he's evil. But because he has access to something that absolutely does not play fair with reality."
Aletha groans softly, "Why do I feel like my odds just got worse? Come on, Jayr-sensei, tell me how bad it is. Hit me with your info dump. I'm ready."
The title is delivered with mock exasperation, and despite the tense situation, it earns a faint smile from me.
I materialise and put on my glasses properly, deliberately leaning into the role, "Alright. Class is in session."
I clear my throat softly and straighten, shifting my weight as if I were actually standing at a lectern instead of a rooftop before I say, "Alright. Let's start with the woman. Sara Pezzini."
Aletha folds her arms, already bracing herself, "That name alone sounds like trouble."
I confirm and start my lecture, "It is. Across multiple comics-based universes, but the most relevant ones here are The Darkness Universe and The Witchblade Universe."
Her eyes narrow slightly, listening intently.
I continue, "Sara wanted one thing out of life, to be a good cop. Homicide detective. New York City. Normal problems. Normal violence. Normal limits."
I pause, letting that sink in, then I say, "However, while on an undercover case at the Rialto Theatre, both she and her partner were mortally wounded. At this same theatre was a man named Kenneth Irons, who had brought a gauntlet known as The Witchblade."
Aletha tilts her head and mutters, "The Witchblade."
I nod and say, "A sentient weapon. Very ancient. While Sara lay dying, The Witchblade made his choice to include her in the long line of women that he has shared his power with. The entity healed Sara's wounds and allowed her to survive the resulting confrontation."
I describe the moment in broad strokes, not lingering on unnecessary detail but not sparing the weight either, the healing, the survival, the price.
Then I continue, "Since then, she has seen many things she never knew existed, fought creatures that have no place on Earth, and longed for the days of a typical NYPD detective. But she continues her struggle with The Witchblade, believing that she can do more good with the entity than without."
Aletha exhales through her nose, "That sounds familiar."
I add, "She's not evil. She's stubborn. Principled. And dangerously competent."
Aletha's jaw tightens, "That's not comforting."
I almost chuckle as I say, "Oh, we're not at the comforting part yet."
I adjust my glasses again, habit more than necessity and continue the lesson, "The Witchblade itself is the real problem. The Witchblade is the offspring of two primordial forces: The Darkness and the Angelus. It passes from one female Human host to another once every few generations. It is sentient and responds to the bearer's will, as well as attempting to impose its own pusing its own agenda."
Hearing that, Aletha mutters, almost exasperated, "Of course it does."
Then I continue, "It grants the usual package. The most common are: Superhuman Strength, Superhuman Endurance, Healing Factor, Pyrokinesis, Tactile-Healing, and even Summoning. You know, the basics."
Her eyebrow twitches, "You say that like it's trivial."
I reply flatly, "In this war? It almost is"
Her shoulders tense.
Then I get to the part she's clearly waiting for, "But its most recognizable powers is its ability to cover its host in protective armour, which adapts depending on how much damage the user is receiving. At its default form, the armour covers only the most sensitive areas around the user and usually takes the form of a metal-like bikini. If the user receives continuous damage, the armour can cover the whole body."
I hesitate just a fraction before adding, "Because of the sharp surface of the armour, it always shreds the wielder's clothes. The armour itself is incredibly strong and is impervious to all manner of firearms, explosives and even energy blasts."
Aletha stares at me, "You're joking."
But I dryly shot back, "I really wish I were."
She groans, rubbing her temples, "Merlin's socks. So she's an adaptive, near-invulnerable combatant who gets stronger the more pressure she's under."
"Yes."
"And immune to firearms, explosives, and energy weapons?"
"Also, yes."
She lets her head fall back slightly, "Fantastic. Truly."
I don't let her linger there and say, "Now, my dear padawan, here's where things go from bad to worse."
She straightens immediately, "I don't like that sentence." Making me grimly reply, "You shouldn't."
I meet her eyes and ask, "I mentioned that the Witchblade is the offspring of the Darkness and the Angelus, right?"
She freezes as she starts to connect the dots, and she slowly says as a faint trace of dreadful realisation paints on her face, "Don't tell me…"
I interrupt her and say, "Let's ignore the Angelus for the moment and focus on the Darkness instead."
Her lips press into a thin line.
Then I continue, "The Darkness is an ancient entity which passes from one Human male host to another each generation. He is one of the two primal forces of The Darkness Universe, as well as the original void before the coming of light and Angelus, which resulted in the creation of that universe. He is the embodiment of chaos, evil, disorder and obviously darkness as well."
Aletha swallows while I pause for a moment and continue, "Despite being associated with evil, the Darkness is also the entity that gave humans their souls in that cosmology."
She blinks and mutters, "That's… ironic."
Which makes me dryly rebut, "Cosmic irony is its favourite flavour."
Then I explain how it passes between hosts, "The Darkness has made his way through history well over the span of 10,000 years using largely Human males as hosts. And under normal cirmumstances it is passed on via sexual intercourse with Human women, leaving his old host to die as he takes his newly conceived vessel and remains dormant within the new living vessel until awakening on the eve of their 21st birthday."
Aletha's eyes narrow, "You're about to tell me that rule doesn't apply here."
I lean forward slightly, "Correct. It is very likely that a Champion of the Concept of Darkness may be able to become a host of The Darkness through some other means. Especially with a Concept Blessing reinforcing the bond."
At this point in my lesson, Aletha exhales and complains, "Blimey... Now you're telling me that Ledram also has a primordial force at his disposal...?"
The silence that follows is heavy, but soon Aletha breaks it as she says quietly, "Tell me, what a host of the Darkness can do."
I don't sugarcoat it and say, "The Darkness is an elemental force of Chaos and Creation that bestows its hosts with nearly limitless Demonic power as well as allows them access to an otherworldly dimension and control over the veritable legion of Darklings who dwell there."
Then I briefly explain Darklings, "By the way, Darklings are the impish, deviant, base and foul-mouthed servants of the Darkness. Created from necroplasmic materials and animated by the spirit of the Darkness, the Darklings are the foot-soldiers of the Darkness host; serving and obeying his every whim, protecting him from harm, and tending to his needs. The hosts communicate with the Darklings through telepathy, able to give them commands and receive messages from across long distances, as well as see and hear through their eyes. The Darklings are superhumanly strong, agile, resilient and fast, regardless of size. They are able to evolve to become stronger, bigger and more vicious. They can scale sheer surfaces and jump several feet into the air. Their teeth and claws can rend steel, and many possess prehensile tails and large bat-like wings for flight. Many also have corrosive saliva or fiery breath, depending on the will of the wielder."
I watch Aletha's expression shift from concern to calculation to outright annoyance before she mutters, "Great. A supernatural army."
"That's the small part."
After explaining that, I focus back on the abilities of The Darkness, starting with the most famous, "Back to the main topic, the signature ability of the Darkness is the creation of an invulnerable mystical armour about the host."
Her eyes flick back up.
Then I continue, "This armour significantly augments the host's strength, speed and endurance, making him a powerhouse and a challenge to even the most physically powerful of super-humans."
I pause deliberately before adding, "In fact, the host becomes powerful enough to make Superman bleed with one punch. And I'm talking about comics-level Superman..."
With that last revelation, Aletha can't help but curse out loud, "Bloody hell! That's way too broken!"
In response to that, I can only say, "I agree. The Omniverse did not balance this one."
Unfortunately for Aletha, the bad news isn't over as I continue to inform her about the other abilities that The Darkness grants its hosts.
Like the tendrils that The Darkness can form, which can be used to tear enemies apart or destroy obstacles.
The tendrils can extend to considerable length and are most likely as strong as the armoured host.
The Darkness can also manifest itself in the form of eel-like demon heads that can devour enemies or rip them apart, and can create various constructs out of the darkness and bend them to his will.
On top of that, The Darkness allows the host other, more arcane abilities that defy the laws of physics, like Teleportation, Immortality, Heightened Senses, Extrasensory Perception, Empathy, Precognition, Reanimation, Soul Absorption, Witchcraft Negation, and even some form of Omnipresence.
Needless to say, after I've told Aletha everything she needs to know about The Darkness's abilities.
By the time I'm done, Aletha looks genuinely tired as she flatly says, "So... I'm fighting a decent guy with an overpowered primordial god, a reality-breaking ice user, an overly powerful sentient artefact, and who knows what else on his team..."
"That's one way to summarise it."
She exhales slowly, then looks at me and asks, "Please tell me there's a weakness."
I quickly start to reassure her, "Not everything is lost, after all, even as powerful as it is, The Darkness does indeed have some exploitable weakness. For one, it is weak to strong light. This is a purely earthly weakness, but it can still be useful. The powers of the Darkness depend on, well, darkness, as they are banished by strong light. The host is rendered mortal in the light of day. Anything created by the Darkness is burned away by strong light. The Darkness host can become more tolerant of light with time, experience, and training. But even so, weapons of light are harmful to wielders of the Darkness. Then the Darkness is also weak to a weapon crafted out of the essence of a star like the sun. Such weapons can hurt and kill any creature made out of the Darkness or even the host itself, as the wounds inflicted by the weapon can't be healed by the Darkness."
She nods, committing it to memory.
Then a mischievous smirk forms on my face as I add, "The last weakness is... Copulation."
She blinks, "I'm sorry?"
I explain calmly, "If a host impregnates a woman, the spirit of the Darkness is passed to the newly conceived child, and the host dies at the moment of his birth. So you can hope that he has already knocked up one of his lovers... In that case, the problem resolves by itself."
Aletha stares at me for a second, then snorts, "I'm guessing I shouldn't rely on that."
"Probably not."
Despite herself, she laughs softly, and the tension eases just a fraction.
At the end, I say, "At least, the guy wielding all that power seems decent."
Aletha shakes her head and comments, "Fantastic. I'm fighting a nice guy."
We share a brief, humourless chuckle, but it doesn't last.
For a while after that, neither of us says anything.
The artificial sky above us hasn't changed; it is still blue, still flawless.
Still pretending this place isn't a digital slaughterhouse where legends and ideals get ground down into data.
Aletha rests her forearms against the railing, staring out over the campus below.
Her posture is steady, but I can tell she's thinking hard, weighing options, contingencies, probabilities. Chaos suits her, but she never lets it rule her.
Finally, she exhales and says, "Alright. I've got work to do."
I glance at her, "You're taking this better than I expected."
She snorts softly, "Don't mistake calm for comfort. I just don't see the point in panicking when I already know who I'm up against."
"That's fair."
She straightens, rolling her shoulders once like a fighter loosening up before a bout, "If Ledram's playing fair, I'll meet him on those terms. But I'm not going in blind. I'll talk to Rani, see if we can prep something against Darkness specifically. I'm likely going to use a bit of my stock of Felix Felicis to snatch an object of his in the coming days."
I nod, "Good idea."
She hesitates, then adds, "And Jayr… thanks. For not sugarcoating it."
I give her a faint smile, "You wouldn't believe me if I tried."
She chuckles once, then steps back, already shifting into motion, "Try not to get yourself killed before my Elimination Battle, yeah?"
I reply dryly, "Not planning too..."
She smirks and turns toward the stairwell, boots clacking softly against the rooftop surface as she goes.
When she's gone, the space feels emptier than before.
Nero steps back into view beside me, her form resolving like a remembered image snapping into focus.
She folds her arms, gaze following Aletha's retreating figure for a moment before turning back to me and saying, "That was… illuminating."
"That's one word for it."
I lean against the railing again, eyes drifting downward, thoughts already shifting gears, 'Aletha has her path. Now it's time for me to walk mine.'
Julius B. Harwey.
Even now, I can't shake the feeling that his end came too cleanly, no chaos, no collateral, just gone.
That kind of removal leaves echoes.
If he suspected someone on the level of a Champion was moving against Leo, Julius wouldn't have gone quietly.
He would have prepared, documented, laid traps that would trigger even after his erasure.
And if he didn't, then whatever took him out did so faster than he could react.
Either way, the answers won't be in the open; they'll be where Julius trusted no one else to look.
The AV Room.
I push off the railing and turn away from the sky, my path already set.
As I head back into the Academy, the corridors feel different from before.
Still orderly, still bright, but there's a tension beneath the surface now, like the system itself is aware that one of its pillars has cracked.
NPCs move past me with polite smiles and empty eyes.
Masters pass in ones and twos, clutching their terminals a little tighter than necessary.
Everyone feels it.
The war has shifted once more.
The invisible Nero walks beside me, silent again, but her presence is firm, protective.
I appreciate it more than I'll ever say out loud.
The AV Room lies ahead.
If Julius left anything behind, warnings, contingency logs, fragments of a failed defence, that's where they'll be.
And I have a sinking feeling that whatever I find there won't make this situation better.
It never does.