The Devil threads amongst the land,
If only to weave a thousand strings,
Unto one lattice for the new king.
So, where shall it find its hand?
If not a pool of ichor?
Which is to taste so aither?
***
The Blood Bank Storage Facility belonging to a subsection of the Rhodes Island Medical Bay was actively kept at low temperatures, ranging from 1-to-6 degrees Celsius. Glass vials were set in labeled special compartments meant to be further used for research, and refrigeration units were tightly sealed across the room, their frigidness causing the machines encasing them to shiver a mechanical tune.
A white-haired woman walked through it with red shoes briskly traversing across the ground, a doctor's coat trailing not too far behind from her figure.
"Well, how does it look?" Warfarin placed her hands on her hips, turning to the junior Operator who had been sent as her assistant. "Told you it doesn't look all that intimidating—" She spread her arms outward while talking, but was interrupted when the action had caused a blood bag to swing like a pendulum.
Immediately, the Vampire caught it with a practiced movement, the bloody contents inside sloshing. "Woah!"
"Uhm...?" The junior Operator watched the scene with a clipboard held in her hands and close to her chest, glasses with so much glare nothing but white could be seen from it.
Suffice to say, she was confused.
"Ah, sheesh. O-positive, huh?" Warfarin eventually set the blood bag back in its place steadily and carefully, so there was no more momentum causing it to swish. "Don't know why it wanted to be the center of attention all of a sudden, it's mediocre in taste anyway."
The junior Operator chuckled nervously, hoping to sound like she found the woman's joke humorous. "So... Dr. Warfarin..."
Warfarin turned back. "Yes? Come on, don't just stand there, we've got some work to do." She motioned with her index finger, latex gloves on, ushering the Operator to come her way. "It's not everyday you get to visit a high-grade double refrigerator Grade-A storage unit."
Her fingers nervously rapped against the clipboard, nodding at the Vampire's words, and moved closer. "It must be something impressive."
The two eventually moved across the room, heels languidly making way, while Warfarin continued to ramble, "Impressive? It's more than just impressive! This entire thing would cost you double your yearly salary five times over! And guess what?" She smiled widely, ivory fangs flashing a glint at their tips. "This all belongs to me!"
She's... awfully prideful? The junior Operator didn't know what to say in the situation. Don't we have work to do? L-like she said?
When they reached the other side of the frostbitten room, Warfarin raised a finger, snapping it. A terminal screen flickered to life in the background, blue digital lights shining through.
"Alright, alright, let's actually get down to business," Warfarin said, causing the Operator to sigh in relief. "We've got a request today, and it's from an Operator currently recovering in Medical Bay A... Do you know who they are?"
The junior Operator glanced down at her clipboard. "Y-yes, I do. His codename is Spot, Reproba. He requires platelets, and there is also a request from Gavial for AB-negative for, uhm... emergency preparation. "
Warfarin tapped the monitor, squinting. "AB-negative? Quite a rare pick out of the bunch, but I get it, universal platelet donor." She tapped something, before deftly moving elsewhere. "Then Spot, I know the exact one he needs." She clicked again. "Which just so happens to be AB-negative too."
Beads of red lights engineered in refrigerators flashed into green lights, the sound of locks being undone reverberating across the room.
The junior Operator leaned slightly to the side to see the terminal screen embedded into the wall. "Are they connected to all of the refrigerators?"
"Precisely so. Very convenient, isn't it?" Warfarin pulled her hand back. "Fingerprint-coded touchscreen, you'll need my level of authorization to access these."
Another sight caught the other woman's eyes as she nodded to her words. "What's that one?" She pointed forward to the terminal which held a simplistic outline of the Blood Bank. "Special storage?"
A flash of recognition crossed Warfarin's face. "Ah, Jugram Haschwalth. Dr. Haschwalth."
"The Doctor?" The junior Operator blinked. "The one who led an entire team out of the Chernobog Uprising without any casualties?" Realizing she made a mistake, she corrected herself, "er, without any casualties inside his own squadron."
"Yup. That one." Warfarin sighed lengthily. "Stone-faced, blonde-haired man that would make Leithanian models green with envy. Too bad he's leavened with a dour attitude."
She didn't know what to say to that. "It's not that bad, is it?"
"Are you serious?" Warfarin shot her an accusatory look, leaving the junior Operator frozen. "He snapped my wrist when I was attempting to sneak a blood sample from him. Hmph!" She crossed her arms indignantly.
"Y-you what?!" Her mouth gaped. Is this why Defender didn't want me to sign up for Blood Bank assistance? The pale thought passed her, face paling alongside it.
The Vampire massaged her wrist, shifting to a more casual attitude. "Wasn't too damaging anyways. The radiocarpal joint is a piece of cake to relocate, so don't worry too much about me."
"That, but... I wasn't talking... about that..." The Operator was at a loss for words.
"Huh?" Warfarin shot her a confused glance, before shrugging. "Well, whatever. Back to your question, this is Dr. Haschwalth's special sample. It's... really... whenever I look at the vial, it's like..." She gulped.
"Dr. Warfarin?"
"No, it's nothing." Warfarin shook her head, finger drifting back up. "I'm just... y'know, a bit tantalized?" Her index finger pressed against the one designated as 'Special Storage.'
A digital voice was heard from the terminal. "Access denied. Authorization level insufficient."
"E-eh?" Warfarin looked gobsmacked. "What do you mean? D-did Dr. Kal'tsit set this up?" Both her hands grabbed the terminal as she leaned in, eyes wide.
...Do we even need Dr. Haschwalth's blood? The junior Operator deadpanned.
Warfarin looked deflated. "Drat. Guess I don't get the authorization to access it." She shook her head. "You know, I was the one who carefully extracted his blood, and—"
"Please, Dr. Warfarin." She looked at her with a begging expression. "Let's get this over with."
Wordlessly, prompted by the Operator's words, Warfarin reluctantly went to the next process. "...So, what we need to do next is running a QA check, aka. Quality Assurance check." Her fingers dashed across the canvas. "Let's see. Cross-match, leukoreduction check... has already undergone the process, and... no hemolysis."
"No complications?"
"Proudly so." Warfarin huffed. "Some Operators don't even know how important this process is."
"Like...?" The junior Operator was seldom curious.
"Perfumer used to be one of my assistants before she went full-time in the Convalescent Garden." Warfarin moved past the junior Operator, before the latter started trailing her once more. "She handled blood samples along with her plants! Can you believe that?"
"Mmh." She shook her head. "That's bizarre."
"Bizarre indeed. That kind of cross-contamination report would be a disaster to read over," the Vampire exasperatedly said.
They eventually arrived at a refrigerator which had the blood bags that they needed, labelled as AB-negative, and signified as "unlocked" with the green light active.
Warfarin opened it, reached into it, before pulling out a blood bag. "Alright. AB-negative. Hand deliver it to the Medical Operators with Spot, Medical Bay A." She handed it to the Operator.
She received it. "What about the one for Gavial?"
"I can deliver it myself." Warfarin picked out another blood bag for herself. "I'll close off the Blood Bank afterwards too, no need to worry about anything else after." The container was then closed, the double refrigerator unit closing and its bifrost air becoming sealed away once more.
"I'll get to it then." The junior Operator nodded, turning around and making her out, steps quicker than before.
Warfarin watched the junior Operator depart. "Was the room too cold for her? Not even a goodbye?" She huffed dramatically, no longer seeing the other's silhouette. "Figures. It's always like that for those who possess a faint heart."
Making sure that all systems were in place as they should be, she stepped out of the Blood Bank, the titanic doors closing behind her automatically. Humming a lofty tune to herself in the process, the Vampire began to ponder how the Archosaurian Medical Operator was doing.
Eh, Gavial's probably dealing with the more unruly folks. Seriously, jeez, too many Operators these days are unaccepting of—
The sound of footsteps measured and regal in every which way became vivid to her ears in volume. She was able to discern who exactly it was, for the pattern was one that had become seared in her mind like dripping scoriae after perceiving it once before.
This...
Warfarin came to a staggering halt as she saw a tussle of white breaching way from the corner of the hall. She looked up, and found her face transforming into more of a pale mess than it usually was. Flustered, she took a step back when his full figure had become evocative, about ninety-percent of his body—barring his head and feet—being draped over with a lengthy high-collared, double-breasted white cloak.
She hadn't expected to see the blonde-haired man today, especially since she hadn't been the unlucky one to be assigned as his daily Medical Operator... So must she encounter the very person whose presence she had already practically eradicated as a possibility of encountering? Oh, what was she thinking? Some sort of theoretical cosmic law must be at play to make all the worst scenarios step on the stage!
First, invalid access to his blood samples, and now—
"Dr. Warfarin."
His acerbic stare turned her way, intense enough to dissolve her skin.
Dr. Haschwalth...Oh, oh! He is livid! Warfarin hastily cleared her throat, wondering what had turned his expression so sour. "Yes, Dr. Haschwalth? Is something the matter?" Business-like and serious, that was the sort of attitude he preferred, wasn't it?
She remembered his words before. You don't do well with people in higher authority, or something along those lines. Maybe it would be best to disprove such a misconstrued notion at this very moment! That's right!
He kept silent, arm moving underneath his cloak, mimicking an action that would be akin to a man reaching for something inside. True to what Warfarin had been expecting, an... ethereal(?) or strange(?) sound was heard as he flicked his hand out, revealing a piece of paper the size of his palm.
Dr. Haschwalth finally spoke, "Good. Your presence makes this process much more convenient." He clicked a pen in his other hand—when the hell did he have a pen?—and quickly wrote something on it.
"What is this about?" she asked, clouds of befuddlement bouncing around her head like a merry-go-round.
"Deliver this to Dr. Kal'tsit." He pushed the piece of paper to Warfarin, the Vampire blinking and grabbing it, before his hand pulled back. "The contents are self-explanatory."
"Uh..." Warfarin dazedly glanced down at the contents, mumbling them. "Request to have... me as your daily Medical Operator examiner from henceforth?" She blinked owlishly. "Lest... you resign from Rhodes Island?!" The last portion made her eyes nearly bulge, especially when seeing the blonde-haired man's signature written in the corner perfectly.
"It is exactly as it reads." Dr. Haschwalth adjusted the cuffs of his cloak, jagged portions fluttering back in place. "I request you to deliver it to Dr. Kal'tsit. If she has any questions, forward them to me. If she requires a formal document to address this matter, then I'll have it done in minutes."
Warfarin watched him turn away, marble-carved face unchanging from its acidicness. "Hold on, hold on, this is a really bold statement you're making on this letter, you know?"
He raised an eyebrow. "Is that not the point?"
The Vampire was left speechless, hands still holding the note she had received from him. I thought he hated me? Wait, why is he even... Realization struck her. "Dr. Haschwalth, your health examiner today, was it Shining?"
His lips were turned downward. "This is not a desirable topic to discuss, but yes."
Warfarin's mind came to a shorter fuse. "Huh? Doesn't Shining have a better attitude than me? N-not that I'm bad myself, obviously!" she corrected herself at the end.
"Dr. Warfarin." His baritone inflection rolled across hills like thunder. "I simply ask you to deliver this letter."
Every action he took, Warfarin knew, was curated in a way that masked his emotions perfectly. It always felt like facing down—or up in this case—a monolith of a statue, but the Vampire wasn't going to relent at his unbudgingness.
"Dr. Haschwalth. I think your judgement is being clouded by your... mood." Although her veins, flesh, and nerves remembered the strange pressure he exuded and was sporadically fretful of just the thought of it, she knew he wasn't... too much of an unreasonable man.
"Am I agitated?" Jugram asked, eyes narrowed.
"...I didn't say that." Warfarin pocketed the small footnote letter he had given her, other hand fidgeting with the blood bag lightly. "W-well, I wouldn't have expected you to get irritated with Shining of all people. She may be a bit thorough and persistent at times, but usually means well—"
"Do you speak for her?"
"Uhm, well, not exactly, but I can be sort of a testimony for her?" She shrugged, evermore flustered. "...So, let me get this straight, you want me to be your medical examiner from now on?"
"I already said as much." Jugram's brow twitched imperceptibly.
"It's just that, you know... I'm aware you're probably not going to budge with your opinion in regards to Shining. I want to make sure of something else."
"...Go on." He tilted his head.
"Because I might've just gotten my access denied on record for trying to peek at your blood sample, and I think Kal'tsit might think this is my coercion of some kind." Warfarin could almost feel herself deflating. Urgh, saying something like this will probably skew his view about me based on the implications.
Thankfully for her, he didn't make her bad destiny come to fruition.
"I am adamantly certain Dr. Kal'tsit understands the difference between coercion and voluntary staff reallocation," Jugram replied calmly. "Though I will clarify to her, if she somehow finds this to be ambiguous."
"Just to clarify one more time..." Warfarin raised a hand to him. "You can handle this entire thing, right? I won't get a round of flak shot through me?"
"Rest assured. If Dr. Kal'tsit imprudent enough to shoot a messenger—which is uncharacteristic of her—then my involvement will not be a gentle one."
W-wow... Warfarin couldn't help but feel reassured at his words. Gotta give him credit for that. Terrifying in some aspects, but when he sure knows how to ease somebody up. "So..." she began, "then this means I'll look forward to our presence together?" The Vampire snapped back to a less disturbed posture, making sure to steadily raise her hand up for a shake. "If your request comes through, of course." She needed to fix her image in his eyes at this very moment.
"Certainly." Jugram, however, turned back without another word, walking down the hallways. His footsteps thrummed across the floor as Warfarin was left there, frozen in the same pose she had held—having been left hanging by his metaphorical noose.
"...Deep breaths, deep breaths..." Warfarin placed a hand over her forehead, roughly sighing. "Gosh, could he not look at other people like he's going to cut their heads off?" Grumbling to herself, the Vampire took a glance at the blood packet she held.
For once, she wished she could have some sort of blood—even synthetic blood—to indulge herself in.
I hope Dr. Kal'tsit really doesn't shoot the messenger. But first, she needed to reach Gavial stat.
***
Earlier before...
His heart felt strange, even if it wasn't arrhythmia. Jugram was aware why. His senses were alerting him. He felt danger, the same word screamed through his head, danger, danger, and danger; unrelenting in its rhythmic pulse.
Jugram's head jolted back to Shining, keeping The Almighty from activating due to the sensory danger his body perceived in both physical and spiritual aspects. His body anticipated an attack, a front-loaded assault, an approach to her blade wherein she had drawn to slit his throat, a weaving thread of Arts ready to vivisect his frame—
"Please, calm yourself," Shining said, still sitting at her seat, unmoving. "If my words ail you, then I apologize. I just believe the situation you've found yourself in requires great urgency in what needs to be addressed."
"Addressed with what?" Jugram's arms, hidden underneath his ivory-clad cloak, found that his sworn companion of steel was nowhere to be found. His eyes briefly traversed to the wicked branch-like construction of a sword placed at the side. He lacked armament, while she didn't.
"Goodness, no." She sighed, almost tired. "I mean it with sincerity that I bear you no ill will."
Gentle words usually proceed with treachery, he knew that forlornly. "Dr. Kal'tsit must have—"
"This isn't about Dr. Kal'tsit or her concerns now." The Sarkaz interrupted him snappily. "As a physician, I have charted with pen and paper many outcomes of danger for my patients, be it physical or mental."
"..." Jugram thinned his lips.
"In a different time, I had charted it with my sword." She looked at him, firmly meeting his eyes. "Those days are long past. I wouldn't draw it upon you, I simply want an explanation for what you've done."
A bout of hesitance overtook him, but God would not allow hesitance. "...Then what inquiries do you have?" Jugram shut his eyes, breaking off from the urge to show any stress. Mask as he may be, tensity remained, for his muscles would still not relax.
Shining nodded. "I know who you've torn away, I don't need that answered. However, was it accidental, or not?"
"Accidental."
"A misuse of your abilities?" She asked.
"Seldom, in a way—" he paused "—leading to unexpected results."
"I assume it was due in part to your amnesia and unawareness to your newfound capabilities." The Sarkaz cupped her chin. "I have a vague understanding of who exactly you've dragged out with your... bold actions."
Jugram adjusted his cloak. "How bold?" He didn't need to question if the woman knew who exactly it was by name, it was the least of his concerns.
"...Kazdel. If they've found out what you've done—"
"If they wish to bare their fangs my way, then I'll greet them without hesitation." Jugram felt the creeping claws of irritation climb up his spine, the politics of the world once more grating at him. "Devils as the world calls your kind or not, I will not be impeded by whatever impetuous folly they have yet to fix."
Gods of Death. Hollow creatures of the misconstructed and misbegotten soul. Primordial beings etched in the boiling waters of creation's ebb. He had seen them all fall beneath the gaze of The Almighty, and now the power was sworn upon his eyes, an unbreakable seal as evidence of his connection to God.
Shining's mouth opened in near disbelief, before she shut it and slightly deflated on her chair. "...I don't know what to say to you." She reiterated in her mind that this was the man who had brazenly eviscerated a Catastrophe. "Your amnesia is a deeper problem than imagined."
"Dr. Shining." Jugram breathed in a harsh breath. "Let me make this clear. This matter, whether you are part of the Sarkaz kind or not, does not concern you nor Dr. Kal'tsit."
"It very much—"
"If so much as a word leaks from your mouth to anyone else." Irritation was of prominence in his tone when he interrupted her. "My blade would have to point two ways."
Without another note, he stepped out of the room, automatic door shutting behind him.
***
Shining's eyes lingered just a brief moment on the closed door, if a few minutes could be considered a brief moment. Stopping for a moment and glancing down, she heaved a sigh before standing up, sparing another round at the results of the medical examination.
"To bring back Her Majesty..." she mumbled, still gobsmacked herself over the revelations she had come to the past hour. "Should I inform Dr. Kal'tsit?"
My blade would have to point two ways.
The words echoed in her head once more. The threat wasn't much, especially if lipped from anybody else. From the blonde-haired man known as the Doctor of Rhodes Island? Amnesia or not, it was in the same tempo as the Ghost of Babel, renewed in some twisted visage of...
...She didn't know how to describe it.
Shining stared at the results of the ECG machine once more with half-lidded eyes. It hadn't detected a blockage in his heart, but it certainly implied as much, but an X-ray hadn't been scheduled today, and neither would Dr. Haschwalth have spared any more time for it.
To a patient, a physician must be their advocate, a shielding hope to their condition. Now, said patient would most likely speak her obituary should she make one wrong step.
For now, Shining sighed, I need to see what happens thereafter. Setting all equipment back in place and turning off the machinery, the Sarkaz had discovered it was time for her lunch break.
Still left with the previous transpiration in the back of her mind, she wondered if she should visit Margaret or Liz in order to clear her mind, but once she stepped out of her room, she was granted another sight.
"There has to be some error, right?" A small woman—mistakeable for a child—with light blonde hair and large ears "You should know that not all results come out the same. There's always room for discrepancies even for super-advanced machines like these."
Sussurro.
"But it doesn't make sense, if there was an error or small miscalculation, it wouldn't be a complete 0.02 unit difference." Brunette woman dressed in white pharmaceutical attire, doctor's coat, a standard one.
Folinic.
"She's right on that one, if there's a 0.02 unit difference across five different direct examinations and ten different measuring devices, rather than the expected 0.001 or 0.005 unit difference in BOCD, then there must have been something that happened!" Brown-haired Feline with standard Rhodes Island jacket. She knew her.
Medic.
"So many possibilities, it's making my head hurt." Green-haired Archosauria, quais-medical attire with a skirt, carrying a large staff for... some reason. "Jeez, looks like the little cat's gonna cause an uproar.
Gavial.
Shining finally made her way, speaking up and alerting the Medical Operators. "I would say an uproar has already been caused."
They all turned her way when the Sarkaz spoke, varying expressions plastered across their faces. Before they could speak however, Shining had already beaten them to the chase.
"Do not let any of this information leak out, and alert Dr. Kal'tsit immediately."
***
A tall Sarkaz man walked through the hallways, footsteps echoing in verbatim with all other unseen activity shut deep in the mechanical veins of this landship. Two blades were with him, one by his hip, and the other by his back; both holding a Higashinese flair. His waist-length black and orange-lined jacket was over a tight black tank-top, Originium lesions by the neck and forearm—both in full display.
A standard-issue terminal banked by Rhodes Island's logistics team and distributed to all Operators was in his hand, as he disinterestedly scrolled through all sections of the landship. Some piqued him, some he vaguely remembered from the many times he had visited the landship in the past, and others completely escaped his sight. The most interesting of them all? The Convalescent Garden.
Maybe it would hold something intriguing.
Well, it was to W's suggestion to join Rhodes Island, and he heeded her words, so what else was there that—
Out of the corner of the hallways, he saw a distant figure make its way through. The figure he could now designate as a male with long blonde hair came to his full view, causing Flamebringer to halt. The stranger's presence was nothing to scoff at, especially because the Sarkaz knew who they were on instinct alone.
"Is something the matter? The blonde-haired man's voice held nothing but monochromy.
In Flamebringer's eyes, a refraction occurred in his vision, two split images converging into one. A hooded figure with a visor under the place of his hood, and the very man stood in front of him, white cloak a disparity to the black jacket of the hooded man.
That left the Sarkaz at a pause, before a chuckle broke way. "Oh, haha... who would have known?"
"If you find entertainment in something, then I'm afraid I don't have the time to humor it further."
His lips still curled a smile. "No, no, it's not that..." Flamebringer let the last of his chortles die out. "Just something I wouldn't have thought to climb out from the pits of the past."
Jugram raised an eyebrow. "If it is in the past, then I pray you settle it soon. Farewell, until next time." On that single note, he walked past him, oscillating gold and ivory passing by without a single sound. No footsteps and no presence, as if he had vanished from the corner of the hallway.
"...Settle it soon? Settle the past, you mean?" Flamebringer cupped his chin, other hand perched at his hips. "Looks like Rhodes Island has gotten a lot more interesting in my book."
He remembered it.
Standing across mounds of corpses, both friend and foe alike, both blades brandished as he stood the lone warrior. Horns were severed as commonly as limbs, statuesque flesh and bones scattered in the mix of a visceral blend.
From behind, there he stood across the hill a klick or so away. Some called him an evil spirit, or a ghost, but to him, it looked like a grim reaper with an invisible scythe. His unassuming posture was one ready to reap the grains, and Flamebringer stood amongst them as the tallest.
"Instead..." Flamebringer drew out, reimagining the spirit as something else. "You don't recognize me, do you? Hah, I wonder if your little escapades will finally lead me to my death this time." He closed his eyes, letting his arms fall back to his sides. "If that time comes, I doubt even the Banshees would fancy playing my elegy."
Turning around and walking down the hallway with hollow echoes bouncing off the walls, he thought back to the "current" Doctor. Something was amiss, and that much was already obvious when the hellish icon had decided to abstain himself from wearing his previous, more obstructive attire.
One thing for sure however...
I didn't think you'd start using a sword now? Flamebringer truly couldn't help the faint smile protruded from his face, a hand raised to cover it.
It was hidden well. Too well. A blade sheathed by the hip, making virtually no noise as the blonde-haired man moved with each and every measured step, primed and ready to draw at any moment. To him—to any Sarkaz swordsman—they would know how to read another swordbearer's comportment; and without an ounce of lie, Flamebringer could say...
"You still wouldn't hesitate to decapitate me." No matter what drastic changes the "Doctor" had undergone. "Blade or plan by your side, my neck's already under the guillotine. Well, as long as you make it worthwhile."
He stopped by a four-way intersection, head turned by habit to the side and to the window, half-expecting any achromatic assassin to rappel down and burst through the reinforced glass with accomplished ease. No such event happened.
"Where will you take this landship next?"
It was all on the scales now.
***
A sturdy wooden chair laid in the midst of the scarcely decorated room. Where no sunlight reached and no dark clouds broke in way for azure to see, a single figure sat motionlessly with a tricorn hat atop her head, unbroken in stillness.
She side-glanced a terminal laid to rest by a metallic desk, a single beep attracting her attention for a moment's time. Lethally—no, delicately, her hand reached out and touched it, fiddling with the controls and buttons with scrutiny, meeting sight to a notification setting which brought her to some dreaded section.
Emails.
Emails from Dr. Kal'tsit.
Skadi's lips turned downward, a straightforward frown as she read the contents over. Some contents, some information, some blabbering, that was what she could discern from it, the same song and dance she had been thrown into ever since she had been found.
She might as well get them over with, that was her decision. If it was another mission, then she wouldn't mind leaving the crowded landship, so that way she wouldn't bring upon unfortunate ends to those who didn't deserve them.
Bringing along her belongings, her greatsword specifically, Skadi made her way out into the hallway.
Her solitude was short-lived when she saw somebody walking parallel to her and to the opposite direction. She only glanced at him once, and she felt as if her muscles had seized themselves.
Why?
Why now? Why so suddenly?
Why was it now she discovered a monster on the landship?
Six irises, yet it still felt like a million, gouging at her. Millions? Or was it billions? Perhaps—no—she was losing her train of thought, and she further felt it lost when blinking just once, before the sight she was exposed to was vanquished. If her mind had gone lunatic, then pray, the source she would vanquish in a heartbeat.
"Are you planning to kill me?" the blonde-haired man suddenly asked, a tilt of the head, riverbed of aureate his strands of hair. "If so, maybe you should have drawn your blade much more swiftly." He raised a finger, pointing to her, as if judgemental of her stance.
True to his words, Skadi stared to her right side, seeing her hand nestled upon the handle of her blade, ready for a reverse-grip draw at any moment. It was when she shifted her attention to his eyes again, that her instincts returned to a sense of normalcy.
"You..." She still kept her stance clear. "What are you?"
Blonde hair. White cloak. Uncaring expression.
"The Doctor of Rhodes Island?" he rhetorically said. "I say you need to discern enemies and allies more competently, Operator Skadi."
Unperturbed at his remark, she remained vigilant. "You're not normal." It didn't matter to her if he was the enigmatic Doctor circulating in the rumors this far. She wanted answers.
"The same could be said about you." He continued walking, the em passé having seemingly been non-existent to him.
"Answer my question." Skadi moved in front of his way, wariness still unbending. "What was that before? You're hiding it. I'm not so much a fool as to forget those eyes." She was just half-way provoked enough to point her weapon toward his throat.
The Doctor as he called himself held even greater neutrality than a certain Feline. "One week from now. You have been invited to Training Room A5 by my request along with a few others."
She raised an eyebrow at his declaration.
"If you want your question answered, then read the message that will be forwarded tomorrow, it will enlighten you on what you should expect upon the day of the meeting."
Skadi felt him walk past her, before turning around and grabbing his shoulder. "Don't attempt to deflect the situation..."
"If you think me a monster," he said, turning his neck around. "Then I find it ironic, should you ever look to yourself in the mirror."
Instead of finding her grip tightening, Skadi suddenly felt a jolt and let go.
"As I said." He dusted his shoulder, fixing the collar of his cloak. "If you want answers, then visit the given location a week from now. I won't humor your unprofessional display any further." An impatient and annoyed look was upon his face, before he finally made his way to the corner of the hallway, and vanished.
Skadi stood there, fist clenched as she watched his disappearing back.
There were only two words she heard him mumble before he became completely indiscernible.
Two Schrifts.
Whatever it meant.
***
There it was. He was feeling it. Embroidered into his skin, flesh, and bones was a burning sensation he hadn't felt ever since he had turned his body into Reishi matter. Exhaustion. He was aflame with exhaustion, but instead of those intense flames which reduced flaws to ash, it was an insidious immolation depriving him of his vigilance.
Jugram sat in his office, the official one, with Theresa's specter watching him over. It hadn't been eventful, with the Quincy warning the Sarkaz overbearingly to better keep herself hidden—much to her guilt. At most, the pink-haired woman had been mindful enough to inform him about Shining.
A former Confessarius, whatever it meant. Perhaps it had been a surprise to Theresa one was on Rhodes Island, but that hadn't mattered much to Jugram. What was of importance, was that they specialized in life and souls, something he held intimate knowledge with. Compared to all others, they were most likely able to capture sight of the late Lord of Fiends.
Ah. Right. It just so happens the ghost he had torn from that dimension was the Lord of Fiends, the one who lords over the Sarkaz race and Kazdel. Just his luck. He had read enough from the Rhodes Island library to know just how much of a quandary his current ordeal would bring.
Predicaments, predicaments... forevermore were they a plight not even prayers to God could remedy.
"You're tired."
"Don't bother." He didn't need to hear a lecture or suggestion, typing away at his computer. The matter they debated over the past hour was already behind, and the mood was soured enough.
There were already plans created for each Reunion commander in the ranks of that terrorist organization, and he'd rather complete it than let precious hours flow into the empty canals of time. This did not account for the Operators he still needed to appoint meetings with, or Operators he needed to find by cruising the Training Rooms for his Schutzstaffel.
"I can tell you're not used to taking repose."
"I never required rest before," he parched his dry lips, before taking a sizable gulp of water from a chalice. Back to typing it was after. "My body comprises Reishi—or rather—used to. Sustenance merely refilled the Reiryoku wells, but now..."
"You require them to actively live. Can't cheat your way through assignments now?" Theresa kept herself to the side, right under the pulverized security camera Jugram had made, half-done out of growing frustration and half-done to make sure nobody knew he was talking to air.
"It's a pity." Jugram set the chalice down, going back to PRTS and his active computer. "Working behind the screen was never a duty I had been assigned to. But, it's no different from pushing a pen on paper. I can make do."
"Aren't you more talkative? I thought I'd have to be the one to initiate a conversation."
"Save it." Jugram restrained his temper. "Perhaps your words do have some merit, Perhaps whatever afflicts my heart is contributing to this grating lethargy and lack of energy."
"It's more than just lack of vitality." Theresa pointed out, staring directly at his chest. "...You feel it inside, don't you? After all, it's your own body."
He pressed two fingers against his heart, aware of her insinuation. "I do. A molecule of... some substance is both hampering my abilities and hindering health."
"Then, should I say it is by a miracle you are somehow still alive?" Theresa hovered her hand over where his fingers were pressing, closing her eyes as if to ascertain a better gauge. "This... I would say it's some kind of foreign substance? Whatever it is, it should have decayed your body from the inside, stripping away all life, but you still cling on. I fear if it enters anybody else, it would deprive them in a near instant."
"...By a Miracle I am somehow still alive, hm?" He didn't know whether he should feel mirthful or not. Hadn't He chosen both Gerard and I for the final Auswählen? He must have also absorbed the former's...
His thoughts were interrupted.
"What I'm insinuating is that your heart is just as much of a mystery as this substance corrupting your body." Faint whispers escaped her, almost a melody with how gentle she was.
For a Sarkaz, derogatorily deferred to as devils, Jugram found it ironic. "Many fathomable reasons come across my mind. However, they are mere conjectures, and neither do I believe I should bore you with those arbitrary details."
"Are you sure?" She crossed her arms.
"It would be a waste of both our time," Jugram crossed his legs. "Besides. Work does not complete itself—"
"It's important. Please?"
Jugram stared into her eyes after a small lapse. "Balance the scales for the information I provide, then."
Theresa nodded.
That prompted him to respond with, "The Soul King."
"The... Soul King?" An unfamiliar title she tested on her tongue.
"A powerful being."
"By your estimation, how powerful?"
"His mutilated corpse is powerful enough to grant powers beyond reckoning. You can't estimate His strength in any measure."
"...I see. So then by proxy, this Soul King must have been an influential being due to his power." Theresa cupped her chin, nodding considerately. "Nevertheless, how does this relate to your current state?"
Jugram raised an index finger, and pointed it to his heart. "I am alive solely because one of His severed gore rests in my body." He grit his teeth. The mere notion, even if not by will, commandeered his blood in a state of lividness.
"Oh..." She sensed his mood dropping, surprise filling her complex as she felt the unexpected... indignant wrath suppressed beneath his calm facade.
It pulsated in his blood, boiling it over into steam she could feel in the atmosphere—palpable and constricting. Whatever it was, it extended far beyond the current moment, stretching far beyond the ancestral tree of azure ichor.
The Sarkaz was familiar with this essence, for she had borne the mighty screams and wails of an amber rage concealed and caged in a lost realm. "I—you're not happy with my demands, perhaps—"
"I've already committed His name to my lips," Jugram cut her off dryly. "And as His half-child, I might as well fully answer your questions."
Theresa clamped her lips shut. Half-child? Is the Soul King his... father? Her eyes slightly widened, a new revelation coming to her.
"By 'association' to His Majesty," he kept it vague, "whether you understand what I say or not, I am the Soul King's half-child."
"And you wear his organ inside your body..." She wondered now, wild thoughts springing in her mind with the relation of the "God" Jugram had spoken about and how it related to the Soul King.
"I do." His Quincy blood continued to be fueled with unexpected rage whenever he thought back to the Original Sin, the absolute travesty those Noble Families had done. "This organ was pilfered from His corpse. Not by me, but by those... sinners. I've only come to reclaim it."
Theresa felt unease make its way around her body as she felt his emotions fester the worst she had ever seen.
"Loathe as I am to be aware of the Soul King's state, it is gladdening a piece of His entrails is in my body; and not in the hands of those floundering fools," Jugram scoffed. His focus fell to a lamentation, irritation at irrationality.
"Embedded into your blood, this rage persists even through spirit."
Jugram leaned back, massaging his forehead as he felt its temperature. He was growing far too lethargic to be angered now, yet his blood...
A Sarkaz hand touched the Quincy's, bringing him out of his bitter introspection. A foreign grace influenced his mind and body— no different from a calming presence of pure white in a turmoil of black.
His head snapped toward Theresa.
"Let me tell you of the 'Myriad Souls,' you've experienced them before." She stood by his side, gaze lingering and lost.
"...It was in that dimension, wasn't it?" His mind drifted back to their first meeting.
"Mhm. It was." A sudden shift had taken form in her face turning to an ache. "Centuries, millennia, an eon of hate. The plight of the Sarkaz, all fermenting in one single place."
"What fuels their plight?" Jugram's voice fell back to its neutrality, his ears listening, and his back at rest. He never inquired to Theresa what had caused their souls to be at such emotional unrest.
"It's impossible for them to move on from that expanse" She shook her head. "From there, their voices linger unimpededly, echoing further and further down to each descendent born of Sarkaz blood."
"So their indignation seeps unto the next generation, afflicting them of their own pestilence," Jugram finished it for her, lips thinned as he thought of those repugnant souls.
"Mmh."
"Then," he breathed in, "I thank you for the information." It was sufficient enough to balance the scales, from what he had offered in terms of his origin, and Theresa, to her own.
The topic was not spoken about any longer, the two unspokenly uncomfortable with the stagnant air.
***
Theresa watched Jugram walk to the center of the room, standing there. It was a sudden maneuver and she didn't understand why. Maybe he had wanted a short walk? To stretch his muscles? But she understood why soon enough, which only served to further elevate her confusion.
His right arm was outstretched into the open air, fist contracted as if holding a sacred object inside. When it opened, hemorrhaging shadows were divulged as ink spilling on the ground and silently tearing a... something.
"Quincy Shadow. Think of it as a doorway becoming opened," Jugram spoke to preempt whatever question Theresa was bound to ask.
But she had another one. "A doorway? What exactly did it just open?" A looming sense of unease hovered over her. "I take it your display is not simply for show."
A voiced affirmation was given. "It is to open a rift to the Schatten Bereich, a separate dimension hidden from light." He retracted his hand, his Shadow becoming one with the ground.
"A rift... and, Schatten Bereich? Yet another Leithanian-sounding name. If you told me a Reichorchester's choir-master had dubbed it so, I wouldn't be surprised." She tapped her chin, thoughts drifting as she stared at the Shadow. "The Doctor adored them. You most likely would too."
"You sound bitter. Does Leithanien stir your ire?" Jugram asked, glancing down at the puddle he had formed. It churned, its edges shaking in an attempt to expand, but the insufficient Reiatsu would not let it constitute the act.
"Some unpleasant memories come to mind, but the past is the past. Isn't it natural to let some unpleasant memories go?" Unfortunately for a vast majority, letting go was practically impossible, and Theresa knew that.
"Do explain."
Theresa noticed the rift closing. "Well, I have been tied in a knot with Leithanien before. The coils... you can already tell—was war."
"War," Jugram dryly repeated. "Unsurprising." He flicked his hand, an imperceptible glint of silver peeking through.
She didn't know what the object that glinted was, but continued speaking, "It seems that has given away much about me, no?"
Jugram nodded. "Your stature doesn't strike me as a wartime commander, but of course, it would not do me any good to graze the waters at its surface." He paced around the room, still glancing at where the shadows had dripped.
"It wouldn't," Theresa simply agreed. "Where were we before? Ah, yes, Leithanien. Although I've been at bloody toils with them before, I don't believe I should view those unpleasant experiences as the whole of what they represent."
"Even if they were to have destroyed countless land of your own, killed countless kin of your own?"
"As I said. It can't reflect the whole. It never can."
Air was inhaled, before releasing, "...You're much different from many people," in a mirthless remark. "In turn, to possess such radical views, I doubt much would have followed or adhered to them."
"Ha..." Theresa breathed, whisking her way deftly to his chair, setting down on it, and reclining back. "Oh, please. I wouldn't know where to start." Her gaze drifted upward, finding only respite at the incandescent lights gored into the ceilings. "So much to talk about... too much, even. Such is the folly of a long time spent and passed."
"..."
"Jugram. You led a battalion, a distinguished army before. How was it? Did they fight for your beliefs?"
"They fought for God and His glory alone. There was no greater purpose than that."
"Was that your own purpose?"
"Yes, it was."
"Is it still now?"
"...Debatable." He kept it vague, that much Theresa knew.
"Times shift constantly, I hope you can learn to walk at their pace, and I hope you can bear those who do not wish to do so themselves."
"Hold that thought."
Theresa stopped. His words were reason enough for her to, but the lack of his emotional presence so suddenly, and without warning, was like a splash of cold water on her. Narrowing her eyes in deeper concentration, she felt as if his presence had been vanquished from existence completely, rendering her unable to sense him despite—
The pool of vantablack, the Quincy Shadow as he had called it, expanded all across the room, consuming the both of them.
***
The first thing Theresa saw when opening her eyes was a darker world. Colors seemed paler to her eyes as she stood on top of Rhodes Island, being exposed to the empty air. No wind blew, no stars aligned the dark sky, and neither did a moon hang up above. It felt as if space was distorted when glancing upward, in a way a parabola would, with a gaping hole revealing an indiscernible light from above.
"This is the Schatten Bereich."
Theresa turned around to see Jugram walking up, shocked at first at being unable to feel his emotions, but came to an understanding when she saw three crimson irises in each of his eyes. Even if she came to an understanding, it was still disturbing how it felt as if he didn't exist.
"A strange dimension you've created." Theresa was able to regather her senses quickly.
"I didn't create it," Jugram shook his head. "Everything possesses a shadow, and the Schatten Bereich is the realm that resides in that shadow. The only thing I've created," he motioned his hands to the changed design of the landship, a more archaic stone than the contemporary metallic, "is the altered design."
"Still, this is quite an impressive feat. I've only heard stories of the Witch King shaping his own realm from Leithanian stories."
"Yes, I know. I've read those fantasies too." Jugram shrugged his shoulders, standing at the edge of the landship, gauging everything before him. "I wondered what the structure of Rhodes Island would change into when entering the Shadow. It's just as I imagined."
"A strange imagination, that's for sure." Theresa wondered how the landship would even act as a landship now that all metal was replaced to stone. "Why stone?"
"A reminder of home."
"Mmh." Theresa thinned her lips when his six total irises stared at her. Before she could say anything else, Jugram outstretched his right arm, eye-like patterns erupting from the right side of his body, before black Reiatsu leaked out.
The Sarkaz could see something twisting around, but she still felt nothing from it. Theresa took a step back, furthermore disturbed as the figure of an arm erupted from Jugram's back, quaking, as if stuck in his body. He remained eerily calm, before casually swinging his right arm in a side-arc, separating the thing from his body and out into existence.
"What did you—"
"Mimihagi." Jugram turned around, ignoring her words, as he stared at the black figure. It continued to churn, its fist shape staring at him from the eye at its backhand. "You serve under me, nothing else. Do you understand? Or should I banish you?"
Theresa watched the now-named "Mimihagi" continue to stare at him, its form constantly shifting into incorporeality and back. It was beyond her comprehension, and she knew it was best for her to observe the situation rather than to intervene. It came from Jugram's body, after all.
"They were the ones who gored the Soul King, the ones who severed you from his body." Jugram grit his teeth, something Theresa could see, her second time ever seeing anger sprout from him. "Do you still follow them?"
The thing, Mimihagi, continued to shift sporadically, motions almost grotesque even if it were merely in the form of an arm. Whatever it was communicating, Theresa still couldn't tell, and it bothered her.
"The world we came from, both you and me, no longer exists. There is no passage we can access to come back." Jugram kept his arms under his cloak, tilting his head. "Neither Shinigami, nor Hollow, nor Quincy, matters now. It is me. Half-child of the Soul King you stand before."
Mimihagi seemed to have tilted his spiraling black Reiatsu of an arm, Stagnation prevalent all across its body.
"You are not the Soul King," he scoffed. "Mimihagi, you have long since abandoned the designation when you took your name from the Shinigami, when you fell from the skies and into the Cycle of Souls."
The ebony shaped as a right arm paused, seemingly nodding from what Theresa could tell.
"I ask of you to keep the Schatten Bereich stable, and I will no longer leave you imprisoned in my body." Jugram motioned to the area around him. "There are... unruly beings which wish to trespass into this realm." His gaze turned upward, to the skies beyond, perhaps even past the reality where they stood. "And the Schatten Bereich is sure to collapse without my continued presence. So, tell me, what is your decision?"
Mimihagi assumed a contemplative stance, its gaping, single-eye, still turned Jugram's way. However, it shifted, turning toward Theresa, causing the Lord of Fiends to blink. An unbearable pressure seemed to press down on her shoulders, her spiritual body exposed to pain.
"...What of the girl?" Jugram raised an eyebrow, quickly moving from his position with a flash of blue static, in-between Mimihagi and Theresa. "You once held stability over the Three Worlds, now you'd take the position in opposition to stability? Answer me! Mimihagi!"
Theresa's hand moved to her heart, creasing her brows as she stabilized her body from the immense Reiatsu. In front of her, Jugram had drawn his sword, Almighty eyes sneering in the direction of Mimihagi.
"What do you plan to play at?!" Like when the topic of the Soul King had been brought up, his pedantic demeanor had been lost.
Mimihagi seemed to have said something to the blonde-haired man that Theresa couldn't hear, briefly causing Jugram's primed sword to falter by his side and his anger to quell.
"...Interest?"
Theresa could hear the confusion from his voice, his eyes turning her way. She had grown used to the pressure, or perhaps it had subsided that she could stand straight once more, breathing a sigh.
In that moment, a spark of a shadow seemed to coalesce into her body, causing a strange sensation to fill her body. It originated from Mimihagi, a black string of Reiatsu it extended, and now the Sarkaz felt a connection to it.
"I see." Jugram lowered his blade, yet he still didn't sheathe it. "It wishes to see this new world through your eyes."
"See the world through... my eyes?" Theresa spoke for the first time, hand over her heart, attempting to make sense of the situation.
"Maybe it pertains to curiosity, maybe not." He shifted his sights back to Mimihagi. "But... it will maintain the Schatten Bereich as per my request, while a piece of its consciousness resides within yours."
The still figure of Mimihagi closed its eyes, shadows extended across the Schatten Bereich counterpart of Rhodes Island, the dimension they stood in trembling. Just as quickly as it started trembling, it stopped, a sense of stability forming around them.
"You've lost me." Theresa sighed.
"I would have never thought this would happen," Jugram admitted. "The only outcome I had expected was the stabilization of the Schatten Bereich... not Mimihagi taking interest in you."
"Mimihagi..." she spoke the name, concentrating. Indeed, she felt its presence in her body, not only in the Schatten Bereich. "You held onto this?"
"If you need more of an explanation..." Jugram sighed. "It holds governance over Stagnation, the power to impose Stillness."
"My previous question remains unanswered."
He side-glanced her with his unnatural eyes. "I did. Mimihagi has resided in my body ever since... circumstances happened. I do not wish to explain those."
"I understand, but... what does this mean for the foreseeable future?"
"I don't know."
"I can't say I should be surprised." Theresa stared at the immobile figure of Mimihagi once more, standing like a monolith holding worlds together. "Stagnation and stillness. A terrifying ability."
"Such is to be expected from their kind," Jugram said, something Theresa could tell was phrased to be vague. "Well, it doesn't matter anymore. I will proceed with what I wish to do next."
"Are we yet to leave the Schatten Bereich?" Theresa still attempted to become familiar with the sensation of Mimihagi's consciousness becoming one with hers. Almost like with the Crown...
"I wish to grant you something before we depart."
"I didn't take you to be the kind to grant gifts," she half-joked.
"It's been wearing on my mind recently. I've only decided now that it would do me no harm to do so." Jugram shot one last glance at Mimihagi. "I merely ask for your consent."
Theresa had to constrain herself from humoring herself to his choice of wording. "Yes, yes. Continue."
"A greater form of power distribution," Jugram explained, flicking his right wrist in a roll, a click of metal separating the air being heard. "Said distribution does not purely focus on granting unpresent power, but awakening what is already inside, laying dormant in the bedchamber that is your own soul."
Theresa saw the black smoke-like static energy start to gather in spirals, coal never once having been as splendorous as they currently were. Then, she saw a flick of silver in front of her, a dangling apparatus drenched in parabolic metal. The Reiatsu, as she knew it, was gathering underneath the metallic object—a five-pronged cross—forming a... distinct shape.
A chalice as she recognized its configuration.
"The Eucharist. Drink upon my ichor, and I will liberate you of your mortal vices." Jugram closed his eyes, dragging the Quincy Cross back into an enclosed fist, firm as a rock.
He clenched it, and red liquid ebbed from the seams of his fingers, a localized river of blood dripping down ceaselessly into the floating and open chalice. The object underneath received it whole-heartedly, drinking upon his blood in order to fill its hollow innards.
Theresa could feel her chest become heavier, an ethereal tonnage having found its way in her heart, chaining it with an incessant drag she felt would spill her guts. The blood, it was ladened, blessed, and baptised in...
Theresa gazed unto the surface of the deep-crimson waters, the swirling substance twisting and churning lightly in the chalice. No distortion folding the atmosphere mattered now, for focus bore its attention solely upon the artifact stood in front of her.
"I hesitate," she admitted, gaze listless as it drifted across every single crease across the swaying blood. Barely, just barely, she could see her reflection ingrained inside the burgundy waters, a diluted and broken reflection staring back.
"It's up to your choice."
"You know, I've drunk a myriad of things. Poisoned wine, a warlord's promises, and my own ambitions." Her thoughts flowed across a troubled river, the final destination becoming tears spilling down into a vast and endless ocean.
Jugram listened to her words.
There, gaze turning upward, she met his eyes once more. Sclera held in it six worlds despondent from Terra, emotionless and nigh-hidden between crevices of silken gold. Still, nothing she could grasp in order to understand the egregiously warped existence.
Her two hands reached for the chalice, index finger trailing softly against the base of the piece. Silver. Of course it was silver, the gleaming ivory which bled the brightest in absence of light—this smoking field of ebony unrelenting.
"I can drink this. But I wish to ask you, why?" The Lord of Fiends pulled the object gently from its suspended state, laws of gravity and pressing weight now acting upon it, the only familiarity existing in the domain of Stagnation.
"Why?" Jugram repeated. "Admittedly, I wish to see if I could accomplish what I currently seek." His eyes lidded, restraint present. "Perhaps to stabilize this rotten world? I... am unaware."
Theresa could see, even if his eyes were closed, he was lost. "What a lonely gift you've presented me." Her thoughts reminisced of his aide, the tender demeanor he would hold her way.
She didn't need to feel his emotions to tell he felt confined.
Never once had her eyes left the Ruler, even as she brought the chalice to her lips, eyes half-lidded. The sacred blood touched the pink glossiness of her lips, the consecration passing through the final rite of passage.
"...I congratulate you."
She heard his voice as the liquid trailed down her esophagus, the taste resembling not a single thing she knew of the world. Neither was it sweet, bitter, or sour; for it was a kind of concept made manifest atop her taste buds, and the only constant she tasted on tongue was metal.
Never once had her eyes left The Almighty. For a breadth passed, she saw past the immortal veil of Godhood and hubris. Whatever cosmic force barring her entry to his vehemence was lifted the moment she had consumed the ichor.
You still hold guilt? In that waking moment, she could hold that proclamation in her perception, and in that waking moment, Theresa felt a thin, sorrowful smile curve her lips. Even as you are now...? How quaint.
Her consciousness drifted, eudaimonia at a blooming state, far more radiant than any flower. Although the world had become blank, she could tell Jugram had closed his eyes, their vision shared. In front of her, in front of them, they caught sight of a letter. One engraved in her soul, the details becoming distinct.
At that moment, Theresa could hear him recite the final denouement of the Eucharist.
"Theresa..."
"I bestow upon you..."
She saw shock finding reign over his marbled face in that instance, his vision over her spiritual interstice lapsing ever so briefly. He sucked in a breath, overcoming the surprise, and she would come to know why at declamation's end.
"Schrift A..."
"The Adversary."