Disclaimer: I own nothing, this is purely a fanfic for enjoyment.
Cross-over from various games, books, anime, manga, and movies.
The familiar characters you see here belong to their respected authors and owners.
"Speech"
Arc 7: The Journey - Chapter 3
Well, did I make a big mistake, or the correct choice? I honestly can't tell. The River of Time nudged me toward something I never imagined I would be capable of—something that feels both terrifying and inevitable. It told me to reach back into the past and push forward my personality from before I ever accepted the role of being Nyarla's caretaker, and then merge it with who I am now. A fusion I didn't even know was possible. Yet the River of Time seemed certain, and with the aid of Boundary Manipulation, Invasion, Secret Arts, and Glitching, I made it happen.
Now, I can feel the split. My current self, sharpened and molded by eldritch influence, has twisted into what could only be described as an eldritch ego. My former self, by contrast, retained the simplicity and clarity of a normal ego. In a strange way, it mirrors Nyarla and her kin—eldritch entities that carry dual egos, alien yet oddly human in their contradictions.
It's unsettling because both versions are me. Both are true. Yet their perspectives diverge so drastically that when I shift between them, the world itself feels different. I remain in control—or at least, I want to believe I do. I can press the Heart of Eldritch deeper into silence, suppressing its influence. By doing so, I can realign myself with the mindset I had before the Heart began to truly awaken. Even further is my former self, inexperienced in many things I have gone through as part of the Eldritch pantheon.
It's not quite sanity, and it's not quite madness.
I glance at Kino, this time through the lens of my normal ego. From this angle, she appears… well, more ordinary than before, almost grounded in a way I hadn't noticed until now. As in, her body is more perverted in appearance compared to how I viewed her previously. Yet, if the chance presented itself, I'd still want to sleep with her. The same goes for Blake. So in truth, there isn't much difference in how I see them, but my focus has shifted. I find myself paying greater attention to my cheats and the godlike items in my possession, as though they matter more than either of them.
The strange part is the excitement—this urge to go wild with the sheer absurdity of the power I've collected. That eagerness unsettles me, because I can remember a time when I wasn't like this. Back in the beginning, when all I had was Nen as my first cheat, I didn't feel the same hunger. I wasn't obsessed with stacking advantage upon advantage just to see how far I could go.
The only real difference between then and now is… Nyarla. Becoming her caretaker. That's the point where something shifted in me. Oh. Right.
I rub my chin in silence, lost in thought, while Kino and Blake continue staring at me. Neither speaks, and neither moves. The three of us have been standing here for half an hour, rooted in place by nothing more than my indecision and my wandering mind.
Damn. I almost forgot just how utterly messed up I am—someone who should never have been given any real power in the first place. A walking disaster waiting to happen. It's a cruel joke of fate that I somehow ended up with a moral compass, though calling it that feels generous. It's a faint thing, more like a cracked needle on a broken dial, barely keeping me from tipping completely into the abyss. The only reason it exists at all is because some of the voices in my head aren't urging me to unleash horror on the world for the sheer pleasure of it.
My eyes flick toward Blake, then to Kino, then back to Blake again. The three of us linger in silence.
Well, shit. These two aren't exactly the talkative type. Kino and Blake both carry themselves with that quiet, brooding air—only speaking when directly prompted, and even then with restraint. Now that I think about it, I'm not much different. I keep most things to myself, too. The only "conversations" I truly indulge in are with the voices in my head, and the disturbing part is, they aren't figments of my imagination.
Crazy voices, it's so confusing that I don't even know if I've truly developed an eldritch ego or if I'm just unraveling piece by piece. What I do know is this: the temptation gnaws at me. I want to go wild with all the cheats and godlike items I've hoarded, the kind of arsenal no sane person should ever touch. The irony? I hardly use most of them at all. They sit idle, gathering dust in the corner of my existence, and yet the sheer knowledge of what I could do with them keeps pressing at the back of my mind.
So, in a moment of restless desperation, I expand the River of Time—pushing it outward, stretching its current across an entire planet-scale range. Anything to distract myself, anything to stop me from giving in to that gnawing urge to break reality apart just because I can.
Kino meets my gaze directly, her eyes steady and unflinching, before she deliberately turns her head to the side, as though refusing to acknowledge what she sees.
Blake, on the other hand, locks eyes with me for a heartbeat… then lets her gaze drop lower, lingering at my bottom half with a look that needs no explanation.
And that's when I remember. Right—this whole world I'm in is a grotesque mash-up, a fusion of hentai absurdities stitched into the bleak road of Kino's Journey, which explains why, in the midst of this silence, I've popped a damn boner—an involuntary response to the constant sex saturating the very atmosphere of this planet.
I narrow my eyes at Blake, then blink and shift my gaze to Kino. The River of Time ripples before me, showing fragments of past events that never truly happened. In one version, I simply decide to screw Blake right then and there, ignoring Kino's presence—only for the vision to twist, revealing Kino stepping in rather than walking away, her silence broken by action instead of distance. She is willing to be fucked by me, unlike before in the other past event, where I spoke to Kino instead of doing.
I deadpan at the realization. This isn't just the River of Time at work—it's the damned Lucky Pervert weaving into it, conspiring together to shove these scenarios into my head. It's like they're screaming at me: act now, stop standing around like an idiot in front of two beautiful women—one already willing, the other waiting to be pulled in.
But then another thread unfolds. In this one, I reject the impulse, refusing both Blake and Kino. Instead, I teleport us to the nearest civilization… and, naturally, we end up inside some random girl's apartment—midway through her pleasuring herself. Of course, the vision spirals the same way: she joins in, alongside Blake and Kino, as though inevitability itself has been corrupted by this perverse chain of possibilities.
The more I watch, the more of these unreal past events split open before me—branches of time that technically haven't happened but linger at the edge of becoming real, depending on what I do. The River of Time and Lucky Pervert together create a perverse carousel of potential presents.
What the actual fuck. I still can't see the future—the Heart of Eldritch blinds me there, whether suppressed or not. And yet, here I am, watching endless past events that never were unfolding all at once, mocking me with the truth that all I need to do is act to drag them into the present.
Anyway, time to rewrite the past a little—something important.
There. Done. I officially died, with my face buried within Nyarla's breasts, by over 9000. No regrets. None at all. If anything, it feels like the perfect cultural send-off. I am, after all, a man of culture—a sworn devotee of boobs. And the Madness of Boobs itself seems to approve, radiating a perverse blessing over my decision.
Now comes the second step—something even more important, though whether this change makes me better or worse is up for debate. Probably worse, but who's keeping score anymore?
I turn toward Blake, giving her a look so serious. The shift in my expression makes her tense instantly. Even Kino also tenses up.
I raised my right index finger and pointed directly at Blake—or rather, just off to her right. The subtle shift in aim was enough. She instinctively leapt aside, revealing the thing that had appeared behind her without any warning: a mass of writhing human fingers, all fused together in some grotesque imitation of life. At its center, a massive cross-shaped wound gaped open.
A sharp jolt coursed through me from the Heart of Eldritch, snapping my perception back to what it had been before. The abomination of fingers rippled, reshaping itself in an instant. Where once there had been a grotesque knot of flesh, now stood a busty woman with long red hair, eyes as black as void, and clad in what might have been a white dress—though it was now slick and stained with blood from the cross-shaped injury I had inflicted. Broken, yet still standing. Dying, yet undeniably alive.
"Greetings, Lord Heart." Her voice flowed into my ears as though it were completely ordinary, smooth, and almost pleasant. But the reaction around me told a different story. Blake flinched violently, as though the sound had scraped across her nerves, and Kino actually raised her hands to her ears, wincing in visible pain.
Only then did I realize why the Heart of Eldritch had torn itself free from suppression. It wasn't to seize control. Instead, helping and protecting me.
I snapped my fingers, the air folding with a sharp crack as I used Boundary Manipulation. Invisible walls of warped reality sealed around Blake and Kino, shielding them from whatever influence this abomination carried.
"Who are you?" My voice came out sharp, edged with authority.
The woman—or rather, the thing wearing a woman's form—stood unflinching despite the wound gaping across her torso. Her black eyes fixed on me without a flicker of emotion.
"Those who bear identities within the Eldritch pantheon." She said, her tone eerily flat. "Have deemed me worthy of a name. I am called The Choir of Clutching Fingers."
She continued to stare, the emptiness of her expression more unsettling than a snarl or scream could have been.
In truth, her words weren't words at all. To ordinary hearing, the sound she made was nothing more than a chorus of fingers snapping in unnatural patterns—sharp cracks layered together until they warped into the timbre of a snarl, a scream, and something in between. It was the kind of noise that burrowed into the bones, even when the mind tried to translate it into speech. Only my connection to the Heart of Eldritch twisted it into something comprehensible.
"And why have you appeared before me?" I asked, my voice steady even as I reached into the River of Time, letting its current unspool visions and fragments about this so-called Choir of Clutching Fingers' history.
The figure didn't blink. The sound of snapping fingers cracked out again, reshaping into words.
"I am here to bring the one named Blake Belladonna for training in the element of ice. Reports indicate she has obtained power over ice, and thus her presence is required, for she is unfit to serve you as she is now." The way she stated it—flat, inevitable—sounded less like a request and more like a decree.
Oh shit, so this is my fault in the end. Oops.