The Art of Transcension is, at its core, Transformation.
Focus - Clarity.
Surge - Merge - Veil.
Insight - Foresight.
Judgment - Supremacy.
Transcension - Intent.
Each stage is a shift--an evolution of perception and existence. The practitioner may access these transformations in fleeting moments, but until they reach the pinnacle, such awakenings remain temporary states of being.
Kujou Sara had not yet broken through beyond the stage of 'Insight - Foresight'.
At best, she could glimpse a few seconds into the future, sense intention, and anticipate outcomes--limited, of course, bound by the strain her mind could endure. A sharpened awareness, yes--but still a tool with limits.
Dantalion seemingly being at the level of 'Judgment - Supremacy' without the help of his abilities terrified her.
And if, by some fortune, that wasn't the truth--it would still be just as unnerving to consider that he might be warping time itself, not externally, but within the confines of his mind--
Suddenly, her thoughts got interrupted,
"You don't have to think about it that way. Y'know, I can see a lot of similarities on our abilities, It even seems to be on purpose, or fucking destiny bullshit..." Dantalion paused, seemingly thinking for a moment,
"Hmm... Sara, do you know anyone somewhat related to fate and time?"
Sara was confused as to why he would ask such an unnatural question, but she answered nonetheless. "The Shogun? Eternity should be associated with time, shouldn't it?"
"Mhm, I thought so too," Dantalion muttered through the Illusionary mouth on Kujou Sara's face--without warning, his 'D tingler' urged him to pay attention ahead.
Thus, without even doubting whether there's actually something, he activated his [Thought Acceleration] on himself and Sara's, everything slowed down almost coming to a halt, and a continuous rant manifested itself on his mouth--
"What the fuck is wrong with this Giant Octopus, does this dumbass know that standing in front of an object that is literally breaking the sound barrier wouldn't be the smart thing to do? Is that thing's nine brains just there to feel different, 'Oh, I have nine, how many do you have again? One? Pfft', fuck ass dildo looking bald head ass perverted disgusting freak."
Kujou Sara, feeling the world around them slowed down to seemingly a halt, with no way to move that would match that perception of time, she was forced to listen to his nonsense again.
She was a little surprised, there had never been a time when Dantalion used this ability on her.
Is this how he sees the world? This could be the reason he can do all those calculations almost instantaneously.
This feeling. Cold? It's chilling...
This almost felt like--
"Sara, take it, I want to test something on it."
The moment the word 'it' ended, time snapped back into motion.
The roar of the wind surged. The ocean blurred into streaks of color. The Giant Octopus was no longer slowly falling into their path--it was already there, milliseconds from being reduced to pulpy, obliterated gore.
Kujou Sara acted before thinking.
Lightning snapped down her arms like instinct. Instead of seizing the creature directly--an act that would vaporize it with her raw force and speed--she manipulated the air itself. A concussive vacuum sphere snapped shut like a clapping hand, isolating the squid in a shell of compressed air, suspended in her grasp but untouched.
Then, in one fluid motion, she twisted, altering their trajectory by a fraction of a degree--just enough to avoid full collision--and dragged the contained 'squid' along with them like a bullet trailing behind the barrel that fired it.
By the time they came to a skidding, skimming stop across the water several kilometers later, the Giant Octopus still floated in her hand, wriggling helplessly inside its airtight, pressure-buffered bubble.
Though, calling it a Giant Octopus now would be wrong--
Most of its mass was gone, vaporized by the sheer friction of being dragged at such speed in a warped air cocoon. What remained was a grotesque, twitching, human-sized lump of mottled flesh. Tentacles fused, color drained. It looked less like a creature and more like a failed alchemy experiment.
A ball of meat--mindless, mute, and indecent.
They stopped their journey for this surprise learning.
She released a breath she hadn't realized she held.
"…You're insane," she muttered.
Dantalion--through the mouth on her left cheek--laughed.
"Yes, but now we have a material. Let's see what kind of being can be made from the 'essence' of this hentai prop."
It is obvious they don't need the Octopus in top shape. To Dantalion, it doesn't matter if it's unrecognizable now, all he needs is its origin.
Standing atop the vast ocean, Kujou Sara tossed the thing away with a careless flick.
She clearly didn't want it anywhere near her.
"With that octopus roaming around here," Dantalion said, "I think we're close to that place."
"Hm." She responded with a quiet hum. If the presence of a creature like that was a signpost, then she could only imagine what else might be waiting near their destination--perhaps even more creatures like it, but with intelligence this one lacked.
After a pause, she asked, "What exactly is that place?"
There was hesitation in her voice now, a subtle shift brought on by her earlier realization.
The only reason she'd handled the Giant Octopus so easily was due to their breakneck momentum--and Dantalion's assistance in holding it. If she'd faced it alone, the battle would have been troublesome. The creature was mindless and driven purely by instinct, yet still powerful enough to inflict a fatal wound.
Not that she would necessarily lose--but the fight would've been drawn-out and unrewarding. The Octopus lacked any special abilities, relying solely on brute strength. A clash with it wouldn't be worth the effort.
The risk-to-reward ratio didn't make sense.
Hearing Kujou Sara's inquiry, Dantalion answered honestly.
"It's where the so-called loser gods ended up after the Archon War. They call it the 'Dark Sea'--though it's not a single place you can point to on a map. It's more like a scattered term for the lawless, ungoverned regions beyond the known nations of Teyvat."
He glanced at the distant corpse still floating on the waves.
"That mindless, obscene thing could be from that era... but I doubt it. More likely, it was born here."
The information was new to her. Then again, it felt like the kind of knowledge that changed nothing--interesting, but ultimately useless. Knowing it wouldn't affect how she would act in her day-to-day life.
"There are portals," Dantalion added casually, "in certain places across Teyvat. They lead there."
He paused.
"I just don't want to go through that method," he continued. "I know the place, but I wouldn't know where exactly I'd land on the planet."
Dantalion, thinking he would have to spend precious time accomplishing nothing, began dismantling the 'grotesque' mass of flesh. He was peeling the thing, layers sloughed off: flesh, nerves--just for visualization, he was trying to find its essence.
The thing that made it Octopus beyond biological. Throughout his experiments, he came across that you couldn't make a being out of nothing. It could seemingly be like that, especially if looked at ignorantly.
As Tensura was the world his abilities derived from, everything he does, of course, would follow its logic.
In the world of Tensura, beings born from magicules are not created from nothing. There must first be a seed--whether a lingering soul, fragment of will, or even a condensed cluster of intent.
Magicules will gather around this core, clinging to it and shaping it. The nature of the magicules--whether ambient or released by a monster--along with the surrounding environment, gradually determines the attributes of the forming entity.
Over time, these factors refine the formless essence into a distinct being, one with traits aligned to the magicules' origin and its habitat. Only then does it attain a true form--'what it would be'.
Yes, you could create a being by condensing an immense amount of magicules in an enclosed space--but how long would it take for even a sliver of essence to form? Something--anything--with a will or identity, born solely from the attribute of your magicules, just enough to stabilize into a proper existence?"
Even Charybdis wasn't born from nothing. A being manifested from a dense cloud of Veldora's residual magicules needed to be intertwined with the malice and violent emotions of humans.
While dismantling the "creature", Dantalion explained to Kujou Sara;
"It was probably created by some gods back then, the destination's random though, since it's--"
"No," Kujou Sara cut him off flatly, eyes fixed on the writhing lump in his telekinetic grip. "I get it. It's used out of desperation. If we use those portals, you don't know how far from Inazuma we'd land, It could take days or months, or if we're lucky, just an hour to get back."
"Yeah, that's right," Dantalion, hearing how she cut him off, didn't argue. He didn't need to. She had reached the correct conclusion, so her interruption was forgiven... But of course, without consequences, did she forget? She's talking to a hypocrite.
"There's one literally beneath Watatsumi Island. You could ask them about it--Enkanomiya. It doesn't get more 'Dark Sea' than that,"
"Okay, now… spit on that thang, Sara."
He held the half-formed sphere of condensed magicules out like a priest presenting a cursed relic. Inside, the octo's essence trembled, a twisted ember of origin, barely visible.
But that wasn't the problem.
Using [Illusionary Manipulation], Dantalion made sure it looked as revolting as possible--specifically tailored to Kujou Sara's sensibilities.
It twitched.
It squelched.
It glistened with a mucous sheen that didn't obey gravity. Its color shifted between oil-slick rainbow and infected wound. It pulsed like something trying to breathe through skin it hadn't earned. It even made noises--not from any mouth, but as if it was remembering how to chew.
He could feel her recoil internally, even if her body remained unmoved.
"No."
"Bitch, I need a humanoid sample," Dantalion snapped, with the exaggerated exasperation of a child denied of drawing on walls. "I don't want it turning into some Lovecraftian monstrosity. I've got standards. I refuse to have anything associated with me looking like something you'd only find in Australia."
While Kujou Sara couldn't quite grasp everything Dantalion said--she could feel what he meant.
He didn't want it to turn out ugly.
Not ugly in a superficial sense, but in that twisted, malformed way that made things look like they were born out of spite rather than purpose. She could feel his revulsion at the idea--an aesthetic offense to his ego more than anything else, he doesn't care about the being itself.
Still…
'Why does it have to come from me?' She thought, eyes narrowing at the quivering, abominable mess he presented. 'Look at that… whatever that is. It being ugly is inevitable.'
She didn't say anything aloud. She just stood there, unmoved, silently refusing.
This time, she wouldn't go along with his demand.
She had already compromised more than she wanted--venturing out into the unknown at his request. She told herself she agreed because it was tactically necessary. But even now, she knew the truth.
If he hadn't--
--somehow resolved days' of military tasks, redirected multiple policy disputes, and optimized deployment logistics all in the span of a single morning--
--even gone as far as inventing those radios, streamlining communication across Inazuma--
--if he hadn't made those uncannily accurate predictions, the kind that chilled her with how specifically they played out--
She never would've agreed to come this far.
But deep down, she knew the truth.
It was curiosity.
Curiosity about how he did it. About what he was.
Enough to make her suppress even her rigid sense of duty.
And now here she stood, confronted by some eldritch thing that pulsed like a tumor made of memory, being asked to spit on it.
She took a slow breath. Her silence was her answer.
Fuck no.
---
"Hmm, I think you should go to Enkanomiya later after this, Sara."
They are now speeding through the air, again.
Though, this time, Kujou Sara wasn't trying to unfurl her wings anymore. There was no need.
The air behind her is booming, each shockwave exploding in controlled explosions, continuously launching them forward.
They were detonating forward just like before.
After she flatly refused to spit on that pulsating, nausea-inducing chunk of memory meat, Dantalion had merely sighed--then postponed the experiment. Said he'd "continue it later."
He didn't argue. Didn't push.
But she knew him.
He wasn't letting it go.
Not really.
"And what would I even get out of that? Going to Watatsumi now would make it look like I'm personally accelerating the Vision Hunt there."
"Hm. You gain historical knowledge," Dantalion replied, voice smooth and careless. "In exchange for the ire of people that don't matter. I don't see the loss here."
"It's called responsibility," She replied, not really giving her words any weight, "Not everyone gets to pretend none of it matters."
A crack does not have the ability to uncrack itself, it can only expand, unless were to be influenced by an outside factor.
"Yeah, I guess you're right." Dantalion expressed, his tone casual. "Then let's avoid that place then."
Then, unprovoked and for no reason at all, he brought the sphere out again.
"Though," he continued, holding it out like it was perfectly normal, "I still need you to make this… somewhat aesthetically pleasing--"
"No."
She didn't even look at it.
There was an actual reason she hadn't been retreating into her realm of consciousness lately.
It wasn't because she was busy, or because she lacked the time like how Dantalion always says.
As many already knew, talking with someone like Dantalion was exhausting.
Not in the way that made you question what he was saying.
But in that way that made you think:
You're still doing that.
She doesn't have the mental space to deal with it. Not anymore, because it piles up.
Now,
Unless she was summoned forcefully--or needed something herself--she avoided going there.
It just wasn't worth the drain.
Though, to his credit, he was quiet when they watched movies.
And when he was playing games, he barely spoke at all.
Except, of course, when he was mocking her gameplay.
Which was often.
She supposed that counted for something.
Barely.
***
3 Days Later.
Inazuma, Tenshukaku.
Dantalion, in a beaming voice, said, "Are you glad daddy went back home safely--..."
However, upon seeing the eyes of the Shogun puppet changed to resemble Ei's, he stopped himself.
Seemingly not in the mood for more than that, he just retreated to his space.
"Your Excellency, it was a waste of time." Kujou Sara replied for him, "We didn't even find any intelligent life."
"Conversely, we found remnants of civilizations, and an archipelago with signs of activity not long ago--"
---
Inside Kujou Sara, in Dantalion's home.
He sat alone on a half-buried sofa, old and warped, the legs uneven where the sand had swallowed one side. The light above was silver and sterile, casting long, sharp-edged shadows that didn't soften with time.
The sand beneath his boots shifted as he idly nudged it with his toe. Just enough motion to feel like something was still happening.
'What a waste of time', he thought.
He didn't find what he was looking for.
He was expecting to find something there, something too foreign for this world.
He should've got reincarnated to a world he don't know.
While this world is vast and there are still many of things he doesn't know about this world--
Now it sounds like, 'Oh no! My lobster tail is too succulent and my steak is too juicy!'
In the last few weeks, he'd been using "just as planned" like duct tape. Slapping it over every dead-end and failure and calling it foresight.
It was wearing thin.
He leaned back, the sofa creaking faintly. The system interface hovered nearby, casting a faint glow--data scrolling in the air like ghost handwriting. He didn't bother to read it. He already knew what it would say.
Everything works.
Everything's stable.
All are functioning as intended.
Perfect.
The processing was all in his mind anyway. The interface was nothing but a decoration--just for aesthetics.
He honestly didn't want to do anything anymore. Not right now.
The only reason he ventured out into the Dark Sea was to confirm his last round of theoretical work. The structure held. The logic is mapped. Even the unpredictable responded like clockwork.
It all worked.
And now, besides running the System, there was nothing else to do.
Again.
Maybe… he'd just hang around Yae Publishing for a while. They should have good entertainment there. Even if most of it was drivel--overindulgent fantasies, melodramatic misunderstandings, and embarrassingly transparent self-inserts...
A thick book blinked into existence in his hand.
The book in his hand was bound in deep violet leather, firm and cool, with a texture like polished stone. Silver filigree lined the edges in straight, evenly spaced patterns--uniform, unbroken, almost mechanical in precision. It looked engineered rather than decorated. Every detail was locked in place, as if nothing about it had permission to change.
The one she carried was stark black with a spine of metal, silver exposed. Its cover was smooth but never still--thin silver lines shifted across the surface in unpredictable, flickering paths. No pattern held for more than a second. Shapes started and dissolved mid-formation. It didn't radiate energy so much as tension, like something working in the background that never stopped.
Then again, these books were never meant to be opened. They were allowed to go mad with how it looked.
The book in Dantalion's hand serves multiple functions. First and foremost, it's his personal charging brick--a tool that draws directly from Ei's energy.
It also works as a GPS tracker, letting her keep tabs on his location. Because it's tethered to Ei, the book is extremely durable--strong enough to be used as a weapon, should he ever choose to.
Ei's book, on the other hand, is fundamentally different. Rather than drawing energy or tracking location, it functions as a memory archive.
It records everything--her oldest memories, recent experiences, even fleeting thoughts. If any memory becomes blurry or distorted in her mind, the book automatically sends subtle pulses to refresh and restore that memory, making it sharp again.
It would archive everything--the emotions she felt in those memories, the intentions behind them--while separating each into past, present, and something in between to leave space for a shift in view.
Though the strain and fatigue on the soul remained unfixable.
He knew how to fix it--had been experimenting with souls for a while now, particularly essence.
And how Tensura handles souls is just perfect for such issue.
How convenient.
Unlike Dantalion's, Ei's book has no GPS tracking function. And while Ei alone has the authority to access its contents, there is a chance--however slim--that Dantalion might be able to do so as well.
Both books were forged from parts of each other; a fragment of the body formed the vessel, and pieces of their souls served as the connection.
There are other functions besides the one he listed but those are what they're mainly created for.
"...Though I can extract certain knowledge from her," he muttered, continuing his thoughts, "But she has to approve it from her side first."
"What a control freak..."
***
The rain fell in sheets, turning the mountain road into a stream of mud and glistening stone. A merchant trudged forward beneath a wide-brimmed hat, his soaked robe clinging to his back. Beside him walked a white-haired samurai--silent, composed--his straw cape rustling softly with each step.
Far ahead, barely visible through the downpour, stood a small straw hut, nestled at the edge of the woods like a secret whispered by the earth.
The merchant gasped and pointed.
"Kazuha, look!" he said, voice bright with relief. "A roof over our heads at last!"
But the samurai did not respond.
He slowed to a stop, closed his eyes, and tilted his head slightly, as if listening not to the rain--but through it.
After a long moment, he finally spoke.
"If you were to ask my opinion… it may be best to stay away."
The merchant frowned. "Stay away? From a dry roof and warm fire?"
But Kazuha said nothing more.
Unwilling to spend another moment drenched to the bone, the merchant waved a hand and broke off from the path, squelching through mud toward the hut. Kazuha stayed behind, gaze steady.
When the merchant knocked on the frail wooden door, it creaked open almost instantly. A beautiful woman stood inside, her smile gentle, her eyes warm. She welcomed him in without hesitation--offered him tea, a full meal, even a soft bed.
The warmth, the scent of cooked rice and miso, the hush of the rain just beyond the walls--it was all so comforting. Too comforting.
Sleep took him like a drug.
---
Sunlight speared through his eyelids.
He blinked, groggy, the chill of open air clinging to his skin. There was no roof above him. No walls. No door.
Only sky.
The merchant sat up with a start--and immediately gagged.
He doubled over and vomited a mess of wet leaves and thick mud onto the grass.
Kazuha stood nearby, arms crossed loosely, smiling down at him as if nothing at all had happened.
The merchant choked out, "W-What…?"
Kazuha's voice was calm, almost amused.
"The wind is weaker where there are houses," he said. "Yet here stood a hut--and the mountain breeze did not falter."
He tilted his head, the faintest breeze brushing past as if to punctuate his words.
"I think," Kazuha continued, "you may have been the victim of a bake-danuki's prank."
-Chapter End-
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[0] : I'm getting tired of writing his whining... I am kind of starting to regret adding this to be part of his personality...