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File 153138516987.jpg - (1.55MB, 750x1000, __reisen_udongein_inaba_touhou_drawn_by_silentdin_.jpg) [iqdb]
31296 No. 31296
[x ] I’ll trade your story for what I’ve got so far. Secrets shared are friendships made.

You recite your vision, your shattered and reassembled memories that were jolted to the surface. You spare no detail in describing the beginning of your desires from killing ants and insects, and your gradual progression up the food chain until you were feeding off other humans, and finally the destruction your soul was subjected to at the hands of the professor, whose name and features are but a blur, but their words and actions remain.

Throughout the tale, Reisen reacts first with some mild shock, then a sort of understanding frown, before finally smiling as you describe how you were torn apart and reassembled.

“And that’s how the old Wu Zhenguo died.” You finish, “Probably for the better.”

Reisen’s ear twitches as she re-examines you with the lenses, “Looks consistent, your chest cavity is indeed partially destroyed. But, how?” She asks as she pokes you in the chest, obviously not feeling the hole, “What sort of entity with this amount of power will bother to disguise as a commoner and target a virtual nobody?”

You shrug, “I have some ideas, retired Greek gods being the first and foremost given the river invocations, but I’ll worry about that when I ask Conner about any strange professors we might remember if I can sneak back to the village. You know what? It might actually be him, now that I think about it. But it’s your turn, my dear rabbit.”

You flinch as Reisen, without a word, reaches out and caresses your neck...for a moment. Your eyes then lock with hers, and then your senses are no longer your own.

Foreign brain waves invade your own, a peculiar insanity.

====

It was your second year in the Lunar Capital

It was your fourth to last day in the Lunar Capital.

Your new master is cruel. Fair by her own words, perhaps, but mostly cruel.

The claim to the Watatsukis, whose scolding now feels more welcoming than ever for you, for a tithe of rabbits was intended to checkup on the health and discipline of your kind. Indeed, for most of the rabbit soldiers, life in the Capital was parades and boredom.

While your average Lunarian is perfectly content with rabbits being rabbits, the higher ranks, such as the Palace courtiers or officials like your new master, are not so.

Soldiers are not just to guard, but also to clean. So she says. Your sector must be spotless, and so much of your day is spent going over the small corner of the tower you are stationed in with a small brush. You must be respectful and salute every Lunarian you come across, which is difficult as many come and go through the facility all day.

She claims she was a disciple of Omoikane herself, who left the Capital a long time ago. You do not really believe her. The Watatsukis would have told you. But she does seem smart.

Also, your shifts are 12 hours long each. It is no way for a rabbit to live, and your mind and body quickly fade into a porridge-like state. Despite the length, you still have no idea what the project this facility is performing, or what the facility was for, in the first place.

Still, as you climb in your cot in the small maintenance closet set aside as your quarters, you still have some thoughts lingering. Recently, you often hear frightened whispers and angry indictments regarding humans landing on the other side of the Moon. The other rabbits have been drilling more than parading, and you feel that, somehow, the Bagua Research Station is actually working more during after hours, judging by what your brain can pick up.

Your brain feels many things it was not supposed to. Lady Yorihime said it was because you are special, a rarity. What it does feel, and what it sends through your eyes, makes many of the other rabbits avoid you.

Come to think of it, where are the other rabbits in this building recently? You only passed by two or three on the patrol route today.

You quietly dress and creep out the door, your rifle in hand. The building is quiet, but you can sense the machinery working beneath the shining, cold walls of grown wood and crystal, the magical signals, a haze of growing data.

You trace the steps taken by the sages, deeper and deeper into the heart of the facility. Whispers became mumblings, then shouts.

It’s too insulated to hear as you approach the areas that are strictly off limits to rabbits. However, as you strain your ears, the sound waves seem to sharpen and recombine into recognizable voices.

“A disgrace, you are!” This voice is your new master’s, you recognize. “Are the stakes and honor not worthy of your petty phobias?”

“Phobias? What you are doing is the uttermost of depravity and impurity!” Another somewhat familiar...a male Lunarian...one of the apprentices, you figure, “How dare you claim this to be your tribute to Omoikane! No. Lord Tsukuyomi must know of this madness you have wrought!”

“You will not!”

“I will and I must! This is disgusting! You---HURK”

His voice is abruptly cut off by a shrill gurgle. A wet, scraping sound is heard. Did he just have an accident cleaning lab equipment? Was your master negligent in cleaning her lab that he slipped?

They’ll probably be calling for some help soon if that poor apprentice accidentally fell in the tub. You quickly run over, past the ajar lab doors that normally rabbits are forbidden from entering by barrier.

The lights are oddly dim in here, the candles muffled by thick paper. The wooden flooring gives way to sterile, metallic feeling tiles.

“Foolish apprentice...foolish. The impure are at our gates and you do something like this. If word gets out, our whole Capital is doomed, you know?”

You slip through an open pair of heavy looking wooden doors, covered with sigils. A scorching, faintly divine, fire is burning in the middle of a dark amphitheatre-like room, heating a truly massive cauldron-like crucible. Your master is tending to the furnace with unwavering focus, adding some dark ingredients in and stirring the pot. Something smells odd in this room, some unpleasant lab odor.

“Without you it will be harder, but this project must not fail. Lord Tsukuyomi decreed so. We must succeed regardless of how much effort it takes to remake this Hourai Elixir.”

Of course! The Hourai Elixir! That must be what they were working on! No wonder there was so much secrecy. You spot the fallen assistant lying on the floor near the furnace, making only weak movements, and surreptitiously move over to help.

You trip over something in the darkness.

“Why, we cannot fail even if we need to steal the scales from the Great Dragons themselves. We need results, Tieguai! Only the results! In this project, only the results are remembered! So, why are you so reluctant to simply extract the last ingredient we need, the simplest of them all...”

Something cold and wet touches your hands as you catch your fall. Adjusting the waves with your eyes, you see that, oh no! A lot of your fellow rabbits are sleeping here, like, hundreds! They must have been very tired to sleep right here in the lab! You probably just woke one up!

“...The hearts of those still tainted by the impurity of life.”

Wait.

You look at your hands. They are red. You look back down at your comrades. They are not breathing. Neat, surgical holes have been cut in each on of their chests. Their empty chests devoid of ribs or organs.

The smell was blood.

“Life is what gives the Hourai Elixir such potency, Tieguai, something Omoikane lied to us about. Only with the impurity of life, can we extend the effects of the Immortal Peaches into eternity, and resist the contrasting impurity of death. In our Pure Land, of course, it matters not.”

You then notice that their eyes are still moving. Each one, cold and lifeless, staring towards you. Purified of life and denied death, unable to move. Trapped in their own flesh with no way out. Even in their state of limbo, you can feel the inert coldness through the moon rabbits’ inherent ESP network, as atrophied as theirs are.

“If only we could grow these hearts, we would not need to trouble ourselves with this harvesting. Alas, life is only gathered through life, and---Who’s there!”

You realize all too late that, in your numb shock, you had dropped your rifle on the floor.

“...No...” Tieguai struggles as he lifts his head, a garish red stain on his elaborate robes, “Flee...little rabbit!”

Your legs falter, and you collapse on a living corpse as you struggle to get away, even as your...master...closes in swiftly with surgical knife drawn. You will end up just like those around you. You are just...a rabbit...an ingredient in the end. You should just turn the rifle on yourself, maybe you can avoid this fate...

“Oh, it is you.” She sneers as she steps over your gun, ”Hmph. Those Watatsukis were not lying when they said you were a specimen. Irksome troublemaker.”

Huh?

The sisters…

You must report back! You cannot die here!

An errant wave leaps unbidden down your spine, and into your fingertips. Invisible to sight, but not to feel.

In a swift motion you stand up, and release the wave from your right hand straight at your incoming tormentor. A rapid pulse, a gamma ray bullet fueled by a new, unfamiliar feeling: anger.

Ionizing radiation is not enough to kill a Lunarian, not even close. But a large dose of radiation poisoning and cell death, straight in the cerebral cortex, is not a pleasant experience regardless of your status. When you recovered from the shot that drained all feeling from your right arm, panting and wheezing through burning eyes, you find your target drooling and limp on the floor.

A thunderous crashing sound causes you to wince, and you see that the furnace had cracked and toppled over, its contents spilled onto the floor. Tieguai stands, staring dumbly at the glowing, molten divine fluid flowing through the tiles, a hint of divine magic on an iron crutch he’s holding.

“You got her?” The man sighs and heaves through his shrinking sucking wound. “Run, this woman, Yin-Tongzi. She has Omoikane’s secrets. She will be up soon, or one of her clones will be decanted. I am going to send a message for Tsukuyomi, if that coward cares, then I shall be reporting home...Flee, do not worry about me...I would not...trust the Lunarians...if I were you...”
The man then keels over, dead. His body begins crumbling into dust as you discern an infrared presence making its way out the door.

You do not think. As soon as he died, you did as he told and ran, motivated by the fact that your master...he called her Yin-Tongzi, but the other Lunarians called her Ginji...your master’s body had began to twitch.

You ran out of the building and onto the city streets. You than ran out of the streets and out of the city altogether. Your legs burn and you want nothing more than to sob and weep at what you saw. You cannot.

You must report back...

=====

A distinct coldness on your chest jerks you awake, your head still dizzy from the foreign memories. That was...pretty bad. Is the Hourai Elixir people? Were the Lunarians...or at least that researcher, that depraved?

“Reisen?”

You are then aware of the thing pressing against you. Looking down, you see Reisen leaning against you, sleeping against your tear-stained torn shirt with her ears drooped. She had been crying on you the whole time, until it looked like she finally tired out and fell asleep.

How did that happen? If anything the memory was supposed to affect you more. You gently push the rabbit off of you and settle her onto her futon, careful to make sure that she’s positioned in a shock recovery position. That wasn’t even the end of the story. You heard the middle part where she met the American astronauts before, but you can sense, in her memory, that a huge chunk is still untold.

You jump a little as somebody knocks on the door, rather frantically. Getting up, you open it just a bit.

A sandy-haired, noble face peers at you. “Wu...Ming...” she grits out.

“W-What did I do? Lady Watatsuki?” You nervously reply. How would she react? Was she listening to you somehow?

“She latched on as soon as the adrenaline shot woke her up. Can you get your dragon off of me?” She grunts as she slides the door all the way, revealing Awyrgan clinging onto her right boot with arms and teeth. “Before I decide to disintegrate her, that is.”

“Awyri...please do not eat our allies.” You order as she half-heartedly try to pull her off.

“Princess...” The dragon mumbles through an occupied mouth. At least she didn’t go into her full size. “Capture. Eat. Princess.”

“Princesses are for ransom, not for eating. It’s more profitable that way. Also, no eating this one. She can actually kill you.” You thank the heavens that she picked a hard target first. God knows what will happen if she somehow gets near somebody like Sukuna, or when this is over, when she goes to a country with an existent monarchy. You can picture the headlines already: “Royal Baby Devoured by Iron Monstrosity! Britain in Panic!”

With some more reasons and a little elbow grease...and Hew, you wrangle the rather stoned-looking Awyrgan off of Toyohime, who throws her a disgusted look before turning back to you. “You, human, what were you doing in Reisen’s room?”

“Princess…” You look straight at her eyes, ”What happened to her back in 1969?”

Her hard expression melts into surprise, then genuine concern. “She told YOU? How?”

“We had a swap. You know, I tell her my repressed traumatic past. She tells me her repressed traumatic past. To be specific, she beamed part of her’s into my brain before passing out.”

Toyohime sighs and adjusts her hat, which allows you to see that in her non-fan hand she’s holding a plush tiger and a raggedy looking pillow, “It is not for me to tell. My dear Reisen has decided to confide in you, for better or for worse, and it will be her decision alone to finish her story to you. But I can tell you this: The problem was not resolved. The informant was correct about his assumptions. It’s why I am looking to change leadership for the Moon.”

“Wait, so are you saying that...that was accepted? How much do you know?”

“Not enough.” Toyohime murmurs as she checks over Reisen and carefully sets the tiger next to her. “Being reassigned to the Near Side of the moon, even as the grandmother of the first Japanese emperor, does no improvement to one’s political influence. By the way, Ming.” She turns to you, “I shall be taking over Reisen from here, Eirin wants you and...that thing in her lab.”


“Gotcha. Awyri,” You pull on the still somewhat hypnotized dragon, “Let’s move. Also, wait so you were a crocodile? Who abandoned---”

The Lunarian, turning red, shuts the door in your face before you can finish the question.
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>> No. 31297
File 153138570079.png - (969.21KB, 800x1200, __yagokoro_eirin_touhou_drawn_by_rabiri__118edc3ee.png) [iqdb]
31297
Eirin did not say anything when you and Awyrgan arrived at her doctor’s office. She merely gestured for you two to follow...down a corridor that you realize is longer than the length of the entire complex.

Awyrgan said she recovered quickly after eating all of the munitions weapons left over, to your relief. You tell her of what you did in Reisen’s room. She nods, but you don’t feel that she truly understands.

The corridors begin warping, as if stretched by some eldritch force. False doors replace true ones.

Apparently Nashira’s fine. Awyrgan says. Your’s and Mokou’s purely physical mangling of that little girl just warranted some rejuvenation tank treatment. Kaguya and Tewi are currently talking to Castor, and he is apparently willing to trust them as part of your organization.

Deep, deep you go into the further reaches of Eientei, where the passages twist and turn in ways that do not follow physical constraints, with hallways looping back onto each other but never intersecting.

You pass by hydroponic facilities breeding species of queer looking flora, some of whom turn their flowers to stare at you as you walk near them.

Over a catwalk, you gaze upon a large room, filled to the brim with opaque canister pods, each the size of a human being. Looking up and down, you steady yourself on the handrails as you recognize with a mixture of wonder and horror at the size of the cavern, which seems to stretch on indefinitely in all directions. How many of these canisters are there? Thousands? Millions?

The hallway continues, endlessly. The wood starts breaking down, the paper windows distort, and then break apart entirely, leaving you holding your breath as the visage of a star-filled sky is what lies behind them...with the Earth below.

“We are above Heaven now.” Eirin announces as the walls disappear entirely, leaving you walking on just an open wooden floor. Awyrgan responds to this by letting out a little cheerful roar and picking you up, using the newfound freedom to fly in a place where the stars are just a little closer.

“This must be where the Imperishable Night incident ended...one route...I think.” You observe as you take in the visage of the Earth beneath, the island of Japan clearly defined against the ocean, a sight that you would have never been able to see otherwise. “Are we still within the Border?”

“We are, even I cannot breach it under the Savior’s current lock. But we are at the highest point possible, though this location does not exist in physicality...it’s too complicated for your education, really.” The path opens onto a dais, on which sits piles and piles of ashen debris among what looks to be an old-fashioned metalforge. Hundreds of swords, arrowheads and other weaponry sit twisted and broken within them, and upon viewing them you view an odd kinship with the ruined metal, sensing some sort of similar purpose.

And on the forge, still hot on the coals...not coals...those appear to be the smoldering entrails of some enormous creature, is a single straight sword. Not even a medieval model, this one resembles a bronze-age weapon, and is in fact made of the greenish metal upon closer inspection. Oddly, it also has two blades, separated down the middle as if somebody turned the typical groove into a gap. Eirin carefully removes it from the forge with a meter-long tongs and sets it down into a bucket of water.

“The answer I have found is this. A replica and amalgamation of every deicide weapon that is reasonably copied.” Eirin explains as she uses the tongs to gesture, “The sword itself is a copy of the Ame-No-Ohabari, the sword used by Izanagi to slay his son, Kagutsuchi. While the outside is a thin layer of bronze, the inside is steel, with carbon sourced solely from mistletoe, a dart of which ended the life of the Scandinavian Baldr. The fuel for the forge are the entrails of the monstrous Ophiotaurus, which are deicidal. Cloning ten anencephalic copies of the hybrid beast took an irritatingly large amount of resources.”

“So...” You ask as Awyrgan sniffs at the weapon, “We win?”

Eirin folds her arms and sighs, “There are several major issues. One is that I am still unclear as to the nature of these heroes save for their divine powers, so its effectiveness is still up for debate until field testing is performed. Two is that---Put that down, please, Awyrgan.” She backs off, her brows raised in concern as the dragon picks up the weapon and swings it around experimentally. “It is a highly cursed object, enough that even somebody as strong as me, one known varyingly by the names of Omoikane and Taishang Laojun, will be reduced to a crippled invalid if I hold it or become scratched by it, whereupon I will be forced to swallow a cyanide pill again. The weapon is also incredibly fragile, since mine simple-minded brother decided that his second sword should be ‘More Artistic’ when Orochi swallowed the first one. I still cannot believe he succeeded in decapitating something with it, even a god! Hence, somebody capable of wielding it is hard to find, but I suspect that one of you may be capable.”

“The anti-divine is of your domain, my friend.” Awyrgan say as she hands the sword over to you. You gingerly raise one finger up to the blade, and seeing that it somehow has dissipated all of the forge’s heat already, accept the handle from your dragon’s claws.

“Is...is the blade spot welded?” You incredulously remark at the cheap construction, as you check the weapon over.

“It is something I hammered together in the last couple hours. The hasty construction does help with the anti-divinity projection due to thematic contrast, as a more properly made sword would likely be considered heroic.” Eirin does not seem happy about this at all, “It will break, but judging by what princess-eater can do, you can just weld it back together and it will still retain its property...wait...” Her eyes narrow as she suddenly reaches out towards the weapon, “Are you feeling anything, Ming?”

“No, it’s just a crude bronze sword, that’s all. Even my gravity hammer had more of a magical tinge to it.”

“Tis that truthful? Even within mine wicked, villainous grasp, I can sense the curse flowing through this tool.”

“I got nuthin’. If you were expecting some sort of super anti-divine power-up coming from giving me this thing, I’m sorry. ” You sigh as you don’t get a response from the sword.

Eirin shakes her head, “Perhaps I expected too much, but no matter. I shall have Iwakasa field test this weapon tomorrow then. In the meantime...Awyrgan, eat it. This is a reproducible article, not a true legendary blade.”

“Tis a trivial, simple construct one indeed, why doth thee...hold...how doth thee know of mine ability?” The dragon’s eyes narrow.

“Your genetic makeup made it obvious when I looked you over. Unlike Ming who is genetically 100% pure human, you, my dear metal construct,” Eirin punctuates this line by jabbing at the dragon’s head, “Possesses the metallic DNA of several species of dragon inside of you. The most prominent of which is the famous Welsh Red Herald, but the Germanic Lindwurm also makes up a large portion.”

She’s primarily derived from the Welsh legend? That perhaps explains why she’s not quite as violent and bloodthirsty as you’d expect an actual dragon to be.

“However,” Eirin continues, tracing her finger along Awyrgan’s throat and abdomen, “You digestive system and your oddball inner furnace and a circulatory system more akin to a nano-foundry are of a non-European and non-draconic origin...a specimen that no one save for a Lunarian like myself should have access to, as it has been extinct for five thousand years. I speak of course, of the Mesopotamian primordial monstrosity: Tiamat. An entity that only melded to draconic DNA due to recent shifts in the world’s perception of the dead goddess.”

Awyrgan tilts her head, her face a mixture of confusion and glee “What tis the purpose of this information? Is mine acclaim to royalty affirmed with the blood of a god in mine veins?”

“No, Tiamat was never worshipped, and even if she was, her worshippers left no legacy. You are a monster, not a god. What it really means is that your creators saw fit to focus your core energies to be constructive rather than destructive. A Mother of Monsters, or to be less romantic, a logistical engine. Namely, this is why if you would receive a written profile in Akyuu’s writings, your ability will be listed as ‘Rapid Manufactory’.”

“Ah, disappointing.” Awyrgan sighs as she takes the sword and begins chomping into it, not even bothering to switch appearances, which is spoiled by the fact that she’s still talking clearly out of one side of her mouth. “If only mine title would have such proof, lest the ignorant doubt my nobility.”

“Hey,” You pat her on the back, “You’ve killed at least a couple who have legitimate claims and ate them, if their armor means anything. That means you are more of a noble than them now. Lady Awyri.”

That’s definitely not the case, but you’re pretty sure dragons don’t know or care about the intricacies of human aristocracy. Awyrgan in particular definitely does not care, and swells up with delight as she breathes out a chunk of molten metal before reshaping it with her bare claws and rapidly cooling it with a burst of cold air, reforming the eaten blade in a manner of seconds. “My thanks to thee, dear friend. As a proper lady of the realm...”

Huh, she really has only a faint idea of how chivalry worked.

“I granteth thee this sword, and a title of minor nobility...”

“I need to keep a copy.” Eirin interjects.

Awyrgan fabricates another one and holds it out for Eirin to carefully extract it with the tongs. “As I was...”

“Geez, don’t get all formal on me. I hate that. Besides, milady, for someone of shield status like me, wouldn’t armor be more appropriate?”

“What sort of feeble milquetoast of a mortal noble doth thou take me for?” She taps you on the shoulder twice with the blade, before twirling it and handing it to you handle first. “Tis only a manner of shedding a minor quantity of scales and fitting it to thy frame. When thou doffs thy skeleton, I shall grant thee what thou seeketh.”

You look past her and see Eirin yawning and uncorking a flask. “Thank you, dear friend. Hey, uh, Lady Yagokoro, art thou...dammit...is there something else you wanted to say?”

“I need to go and outfit everyone else except for Toyohime.” The doctor mutters as she rubs her eyes, “If I do everything correctly, which includes allowing the dragon to absorb a godslaying tool, it’s a bygone conclusion that we are going to win this silly Earthling war.”

“And how are you so sure?”

“Clairvoyance....some clairvoyance.” She chugs the potion, opens her coat and reveals a set of blue metal flasks under it. “Specifically, a derivative of my Hourai Elixir that exchanges its permanency for a complete purge of the impurity of death and the removal of oneself from the flow of time, allowing for brief, clear glimpses into the immediate future and some blurrier visions about further times due to quantum uncertainty. Also, not really possible to die, but in a more premonition based way than regeneration. Still, it looked like we won.”

“Wait...” You freeze as you process this information, “That’s cheating!”

“Yep. I call it the Ultramarine Orb Potion. In development of course. I was going to distribute it to the primary incident resolvers, as well as anyone else willing, in case things go even more south than they already have. Side effects, he, ha ha. WHAHAHA.” The sudden peal of laughter catches you off-guard, “Heh, side effects on Lunarians like me are fairly minimal due to our lack of impurity, but I wouldn’t even try a small sample on Udongein.”

She notices your curious gaze, “Even so, you wish to try it, do you not?”

“..So, what side effects?”

“Anything from minor toothaches, compulsive laughter and headaches to systematic organ failure and necrosis in the brain. At least, ” Eirin chuckles as she shakes the flask, “Those are the symptoms from my personal testing. Come to think of it...you did demonstrate substantial resistances to drugs in the past, so perhaps you would be luckier in this regard.”

Seeing the doctor temptingly hold out the cheat code in a bottle, you wonder, should you...

“My friend...”

“Hmm?”

“Mine constitution is of a superior, noble quality compared to thine fragile flesh. Mayhaps mine gullet shall be a more suitable vessel for this elixir?”

[ ] Drink the Prototype Ultramarine Orb Potion
[ ] Have Awyrgan try it first
[ ] Do not drink the Prototype Ultramarine Orb Potion
>> No. 31299
[X] Drink the Prototype Ultramarine Orb Potion
MOAR INSIGHT

Damn I love this story, see you next month.
>> No. 31300
[x] Do not drink the Prototype Ultramarine Orb Potion

Ahahahahahah, fuck no. Holes in brains or necrosis of brain, it's the same thing even if we're some kind of mummy. It could make us more dead on the outside and it's over once that happens.

Would it be possible to ask Eirin for advice on what to do with the we're-a-zombie situation? Without having to drink a potion, if at all possible.
>> No. 31301
"...complete purge of the impurity of death"

If death is impurity, then as a walking corpse, he becomes... impurity incarnate?

Drinking this seems laughably bad. But god I want to see what happens if he does.

My smart ass answer to Eirin would be, "You drink it and tell me if I drink it or not."

[x] "You tell me, since you already know."
>> No. 31302
>>31300
He's right next to Eirin, his skull could spontaneously explode I bet she would be able to fix him without even leaving a scar.
>> No. 31303
[x] Do not drink the Prototype Ultramarine Orb Potion

Walking corpse + death removal =
>> No. 31304
>>31303
He already went through that treatment it had no effect.
>>29767
>> No. 31305
[x] Drink the Prohibited User OPeration

We should use all the knowledge we can if we're gonna be an effective shield.

Victory is good but we gotta aim for a complete victory-one with all touhoes we like intact.
>> No. 31306
[X] Do not drink the Prototype Ultramarine Orb Potion

Apparently the canon version can be used by humans and maybe youkai, but is lethal to gods. It seems like a bad idea for our protagonist and having Awyri try it is right out.
>> No. 31307
Locking votes in 2 days
>> No. 31308
>>31307
You only ever update once a month, so what's the point?
>> No. 31309
>>31308
So I can decide when to stop procrastinating, duh.
>> No. 31310
>>31309
Do it now for a free encouragement ticket, valid until 99/99/9999~
>> No. 31311
We need one more vote to drink it or a touhou will die

That's how these precognition things usually pan out anyway.
>> No. 31319
File 15338076477.png - (112.00KB, 210x250, lightning_arrow.png) [iqdb]
31319
[x] Do not drink the Prototype Ultramarine Orb Potion

You turn down the proffered cheat code. The potential drawbacks outweigh the benefits, and you don’t have a Hourai Elixir to fall back on.

“Funny, I thought you of all people would jump on the opportunity.” Eirin says, a trace of disappointment lingering in her voice. “Well then. That concludes the purpose of this appointment.”

Awkward silence. You look around at the stars around you, the moon in the distance, and the blue planet beneath you while Eirin picks up a scrappy looking spearhead from the junk pile and begins carefully hammering away at it.

“So...uh, how do we get down? Do we walk down that hallway again?”

“Just jump. The Princess’s stretching of time and space does not hinder basic Euclidean geometry.”

“Right on cue, my friend!” Awyrgan excitedly pipes up, “I hath been holding a new enhancement for thy pitiful fleshy form! Tis the wings of that foul knight thee shorn off. I devoured the mechanisms and reproduced it for thine exoskeleton!”

“I said call me Ming, you...whoa...”

What Awyrgan is holding out in front of you is something that looks like H.R Giger’s wet dream. The bits of the knight’s noble wings, blue and gold, are choked and subsumed by tendrils and layers of gray steel into a twisted parody. A sort of cuirass, one that resembles Awyrgan’s own armored scales, lines the front.

She eagerly straps it onto you, tearing off the ruined remnants of your armor in the process. The inside, to your relief, is lined with a soft and pliable leather. Softer than any other sort of leather you had touched.

“This is awesome, Awyri! What is it made out of?”

“Why I am glad you asked, my vassal!” She proudly exclaims, her face gleaming in a smug satisfaction, “The outer plates are improved replica of mine scales, a matrix of newly imbibed moonsilver and iridium from the lunarian weaponry I consumed as compensation for mine troubles, offered by the head rabbit.”

You hear Eirin audibly groan and mutter “Tewi...”, though she does not protest further or turn aside her attention from her work.

“The middle is formed of a sandwich of hard steel, impregnated with bone fragments, designed to deny magic and provide structural support, backed with a soft foam-layer formed of tanned skin scraps, remnants fools who stood against us to better protect against blunt impacts.”

You cringe at the last part, and try to nudge the insulating layer away from you. It won’t, Awyrgan had made it quite thick, and it easily expands and contracts as you move around in it to fit you snuggly within the cuirass. It feels oddly like hands grabbing onto your skin.

You give up. At least it’s quite comfortable.

“Now, open thy wings.” She orders as she stretches out the mechanical skeleton of the flying device, “Thou no longer need mine wings to achieve simple flight.”

Nodding, you send the spirits into the wings. One on the left, one on the right, one to coordinate between them as a dumb messenger. With the parts stabilized on a solid frame this time, it becomes rather easy to extend your consciousness into the wings, using the suborned spirits as a makeshift magical conduit.

The wings flare to life, exuding a faint trail of the soft pink color in contrast to the golden shine of the knights. Allowing Awyrgan to take hold of your hand, you carefully lift off and float around a bit. They prove easy to handle as you spin and do a small somersault, much easier than holding them manually. Though you suspect that Meiling’s dormant possession is having an effect on your mastery of flight.

“Oh, Ming, could you go check on the defectors? I think the knight’s sister has awoken by now and everyone is occupied, as the princess and the assassin are preparing dinner in lieu of Udongein.” Eirin asks as you hover past the railing. “The recovery room is labeled on your Module.”

“Gotcha, boss. See ya later. Now, Awyri, together?”

“Of course!” She grins, and spreads her wings.

You somersault backwards, and face down, as if off a diving board, and plummet with your stolen wings. An air shield comes up in front, seemingly projected by the wings themselves as a necessary secondary function. You see the large dragon to your side tumble through the air, likely intentionally as she is happily exuding plasma around her, turning her descent into a fiery comet. Looking back, your wings trail the noxious pink for quite a ways, making you a similar companion.

The way down seems odd. Eientei’s space distortions probably narrow the vertical space through a corridor or something, because you see no structures above or alongside you, and below you appears to be a neverending forest that covers all of Japan. Is it a microcosm like Miko’s Senkei? Likely.

The travel path, regardless of how much you swivel and turn, never seems to change, as you are always just grazing Awyrgan’s fire trail.

It’s also shorter than you imagined. Eientei’s courtyard looms close quite quickly, and you panic and brake hard at the realization, the G-Force briefly blacking you out as you slow down.

When you come to again, you are lying face down in soft, mat-like vegetation. Eientei’s unique sort of outdoor flooring that resembles a mass of vines that just so happen to weave together into natural tatami. Looking up, you see nothing but a dark night sky. What a strange dimensional distortion.

Smelling something burning, you look to your side and see that Awyrgan incinerated the patch she landed on, while she herself is rolling around to put the fire out.

“I fear I hath committed an error.” She grumbles through dragon-sized teeth as she tries to get as much of the fire gone as possible. “Too much merriment.”

“You didn’t absorb a fire extinguisher beforehand?”

“Negatory. Tis an error in judgment.”

After she puts the fire out and shifts down sizewise into the less building-wrecking humanoid size, the two of you head for the recovery room. It isn’t as quiet as before, with many rabbits heading towards the dining hall. Most of them wisely avoid the barely human girl who watches them with a predator’s interest.

“Hold up.” You whisper and stop Awyrgan as you reach the door. “Lemme eavesdrop a bit before we do anything.”

“Do you not trust them, my friend?”

You throw her a strange look, “Of course not, when did I trust anybody?”

“Hmph. Tis unnecessary. We should simply interrogate the lot directly if needed.”

Sadly, your repertoire of lifespan and evil spirit fueled preset powers have no way of eavesdropping elegantly, as a few experiments with the conjoined spirits proves fruitless. Resigned, you hold your ear up to the door as usual.

“Nashira, how are you feeling? It’s me, Castor.” The paladin says, still discernible behind the relatively thin wood. The door here is less insulating than Reisen’s room’s.

“Bro-Brother?” Nashira’s voice comes out, shy and gentle. You kind of expected it from the little sister archetype, but on the other hand she fucked up Awyrgan nice and well. “I feel fine...Where are we?”

“We’ve been captured by the enemy. Shira, the Null Fiend defeated our team and dragged us in.”

“Oh...NO!” The gentle voice turns into more of a blubbering, “Deimos...Is Deimos okay? I hope I didn’t cause his...Wait, brother, did you say Null Fiend?”

“Yes?” Castor sounds confused, “The man with the warhammer, that was the Null Fiend. Were you unable to tell?”

“That was the Null Fiend? But he is...I believed he was at most merely a disciple or spawn of that monster! A duped one for sure, as he was a healer for that foul dragon, and surely something as foul as the Null Fiend cannot heal! Also, would he not have consumed us for our lifespan immediately?”

You notice that Awyrgan is leaning against the opposite wall, arms crossed, wings folded, and eyes closed, probably to look cool and regal. Her tail, however, has extended towards the door, with some odd metal wires protruding into the door’s crevices, at the tip...is that an internal microphone? A laptop’s internal microphone.

You sigh as you remember one of your earliest encounters with her. It’s your laptop’s internal microphone, or at least a replica based off of such.

“Now Nashira, regardless of what he is, they have brought us in alive, but has taken our weapons and armor. We ought to dwell somewhat on a next course of action...”

“No, Cas, we cannot dwell. If the Null Fiend is near, even this early in the past, we must escape and report back.” You hear Castor trying to say something, but is shouted over, “We know that the Dragon is weak, and a decisive strike can at least take out that monstrosity. You are the faster one of us two, Cas, I shall use my remaining power to create a distraction, and...”
“Nashira...they could be listening to us...”

“Yes, but do they know when? I think not. If we act spontaneously, I could secure you passage out---”

“And leave you behind?”

“I shall incinerate myself if I need to, brother! I cannot allow them to continue with their corrupt campaign! Not after what they did to us...not after that I was trapped under that beam, while mom and dad screamed...and screamed...burnt alive...” Her impassioned voice breaks down into sobbing.

“What.” You cannot help but let out some shock. “The. Fuck.”

“..WHO’S THERE?”

Awyrgan’s eyes snap open, and four machine guns, the same model as the ones the Saviors wielded against you, spring out from her back, held aloft spindly arms of gunmetal. You react slower, just slow enough that when the door flies open, you eat a flying divine fist directly in the face.

Doesn’t hurt too much though, especially since your Hunter Module was down. Nashira yelps as she shakes her hand in pain, much to your amusement.

“The Null Fiend and the Dragon.” You grin. Awyrgan does not open her mouth, but leans forward and stares at the girl with a hungry gaze while retracting the weapons. She obviously does not see a threat for whatever reason.

She’s a good deal shorter than you, though not to the extent of Flandre or even Mystia. Albino characteristics just like Castor, who is standing behind her with a sheepish look. Somehow they achieved the white-hair and red eyes without losing skin tone, odd. Somehow managing to wear long hair in a military organization, you notice several chunks of her hair still missing, likely thanks to you and Mokou.

You note with some apprehension that she looks no older than 16.

“LIAR!” Another fist flies towards you, but you easily catch it, the divine energies dissipating on touch, “You are but a deluded pawn of that monstrosity!” She snarls, her red eyes focused in anger not on you, but at Awyrgan. “Where is he hiding! That fiend! Tell him that if he does not show up that I will blow myself and you, his accursed mount, to--OW!”

“Mount? MOUNT!” Awyrgan shouts back, anger visible on her human-ish face, as she retracts her tail from a stinging lash on Nashira’s side, “Who art thou daring to call one such as I, the most noble and terrible of monsters, a mere mount! Tis the height of folly and arrogance!”

Nashira holds her side, hurt, but her expression changes swiftly from anger to confusion as she quietly asks, “Foul Dragon...you can speak?”

“Tis a surprise for thee? You had taken me for a simple beast of burden?” Awyrgan huffs and stands back, putting a clawed hand over her collar in an unusually dainty gesture. “Thou art addressing a dragon, the highest beings in thy legends and tales.”

Nashira moves her head up and down at the dragon, her face growing visibly more confused by the second. From the elaborate armored dress, to the copied Ame-No-Ohabari that she is proudly wearing at her side, to the streaks of gold gilding her wings.

“You look like a knight. A high ranking one, perhaps even a Companion. Are you mocking us!?” Her voice raises to a shout again.

“I have no need of mimicking scum like thee, whom no more qualify for thy lofty monikers as the grime on my scales. Tell me, knave, what sort of sordid fool would antagonize one that had proven to be capable of massacring thy kindred, and may choose to do so even after thou expended enough effort to undo the past? Or, alternatively, would choose not to do so with sufficient tribute?”

“You know,” You interject, “How can you accuse us of things we have not done? More importantly, how do you know that your time travel have not already Butterfly Effect-ed your bloodline? Or how does anything that happen here affect your timeline if the multiverse theory holds?”

“Polaris had answered that issue through their research.” Castor explains as he slowly tries to physically get a grip on his sister, “The universe does not follow the multiverse theory, it’s a single river, one whose infinite possibilities collapse onto each other into one timeline that can only be significantly altered by large events in a roughly equivalent exchange. The butterfly that flutters its wings in the Arctic Federation will not cause anything but a single light breeze in the Caribbeans, but a billion could cause a small storm. It’s why we’re doing this at all.”

“Cast, why are you telling them this? The slave of the Null Fiend has no use for this information.”

“Nashi, if they know more of what we do and why, maybe we won’t have to fight.” He answers, strangely hopeful.



You wave your hands and roll your eyes, “I understand that. But Nashira, honestly I feel really attacked right now. As far as I know I serve nobody officially but Omoikane and the Tengu, and the latter...questionably. This Null Fiend must be a really sneaky guy if I’ve been his or her disciple the whole time without knowing.”

You say this sarcastically. But there is a nagging doubt in the back of your mind that the angry Savior could be right. Who was giving you the cards? You doubt it’s Conner, even if he killed and remade you back in school, he is far more dramatic and bombastic than that.

Even so, judging by how Castor described the Null Fiend and the Dragon, you are sure nobody else can be the Null Fiend. Who else did Awyrgan term a friend anyway? If anything, nobody else SHOULD be called the Null Fiend. Unless you died.

“Look, Nashira Pyrus. I’ll cut you a deal, you stay out of the conflict, and we won’t kill Deimos.” You see Castor frown and let out an irritated snort at that, “Got it? You surrender, and the scary Null Fiend and vicious Dragon will abstain from tearing your boyfriend limb to limb before enslaving his soul to my whim.”

“Deimos is far stronger than that!” Nashira protests, even as her brown skin visibly pales and tears well up in her eyes, “He...he wouldn’t lose to the likes of you!”

Something plops to the floor, and you jump back in disgust. A half-burnt human arm, still with scraps of armor attached to it.

Awyrgan coughs, wiping the steaming saliva from the regurgitation away from her mouth. “That Deimos, fought in an adequate manner, I suppose.” She kicks the arm over, revealing some sort of glowing barcode tattooed on the shoulder. “I refrained from digesting this piece as it seemed to contain information. Tis the arm of thy lover, yes?”

Castor makes another irritated snort, and backs away slightly from the severed body part.

Nashira kneels, eyes wide and hollow, “That’s...that’s his personal sigil. Villains...you are all...”

“Yep, villain, bad guy, dark lord. Worst of the bunch really. So, as I’ve said before, if you want your boyfriend alive.” You lean in towards the stunned girl’s ears and whisper, “Don’t. Fuck. With. Us. Understand? Just stay in Eientei and drink tea.”

You slap your hand down on her shoulder, as you see a faint, fading outline of a golden bow being formed in her hand. She lurches upright, and opens her mouth in a silent scream as you negate the divine energies with a Hew. “We only hunt heroes. If your family stays out of the conflict, we’ll guarantee their safety as well when the time comes. Though, judging by the way you mentioned Deimos more than them, you might have sidelined them into a Freudian motive, haven’t you?”

“That’s enough, Null Fiend.” Castor says as he pushes your arm off while pulling Nashira back, some genuine concern and anger in his voice. “Are you just here to bully Nashi, or do you have anything Doctor Yagokoro told you to do?”

“Uh, you guys need anything?” You jerk back from your villain impression, surprised at his reaction, “Eirin just wanted us to check up on you guys. You know, making sure everything’s going well in recovery. No hemorrhages, infections, or leaking information to the enemy.”

“Null Fiend, are you capable of saying anything without a backhanded remark?”

“...No. Yes. Maybe. Probably not.”

“Mmph. Mayhaps my friend is not suited for positive conversation. That is part of his eccentricities.” Awyrgan states matter-of-factly, “So tell me, O’ fervant knight of archery, what sort of beast appeal to you the most?”

Nashira blinks, once again confused, “A...a bear.”

“Mmhmm.” Awyrgan closes her eyes, and parts of her clothing break off into scales. Her fingertips exude tiny streams of plasma cutting, welding, and machining the metal into different parts, and then just as quickly she assembles it together. Before you know it, she’s holding up a small bronze statuette of Nashira’s favorite omnivore, one which is roaring and fidgeting.

Roaring and fidgeting as well as any contemporary windup toy, anyway, but that only took ten seconds.

“Consider this a gesture of goodwill and trust.” She says as she plops the toy into the girl’s hands.

“Thank...you? Foul...dragon...do you have a real name?”

“Tis Awyrgan, First born and queen of all western dragonkin.”

You watch her perform a small curtsy, even lifting the corners of her scale skirt. You wonder if Eirin had shadily drugged her somehow while she was unconscious. Tanks don’t do curtsies. DRAGONS don’t do curtsies.

Yet there it is.

“What.” Is all you can say as you leave the room, Castor palming you a small translucent cube while Nashira’s distracted with the toy bear.

“Honestly, my friend. Thy hollow nature is not conducive to your relations with normal lessers.” Awyrgan points out with no small amount of smug as she floats in front of you, “Thou truly cannot speak anything truly positive, can thee?”

You shake your head, “I can, but sarcasm is much easier.”

“Tis thy nature, hollow, silent, and unfeeling. The only ones who saw thy true self and were willing to remain close are those with damaged souls and warped hearts.”

“The insane? The mad?” Wait, you see the validity in that phrase as Awyrgan locks her hungry, burning eyes with yours, smiling. Kagerou and Konoroz were right to be suspicious and hostile. A broken mother of a nue. A deserter traumatized through horror. A mad rainbow serpent with a chip against the heavens. A mechanical horror with aspirations of dominion and nobility. A deranged protagonist with a sadistic streak a mile wide, literally…

“Hey Ming! Hey Awyrgan” Sanae cheerfully greets you from the other end of the hallway. “Lady Toyohime and Iwakasa have finished cooking dinner, and say, what did you get from them?”

“This. Castor held up his end of the deal for keeping his sister alive and safe.” You squeeze the cube and toss it up. A large holographic screen is projected in mid-air, and a copious volume of text. “Information on the capabilities of the Savior companions, and Rigel himself.”

Sanae scans through the data with you. She reacts with some relief on the capabilities of the common soldiery, and some grimness on the paladins, who have divine abilities equivalent to some of the stronger youkai. The Companions elicit a groan, as they are moreorless equivalent to her, with vast amounts of divine energies plus special abilities. Castor’s omnipotent weapon mastery and attraction is already powerful, while Nashira’s bullshit divine archery threatened to immediately turn Awyrgan into scrap metal last time.

She stops at the last entry. Rigel.

“You have got to be kidding me.” She exclaims, “NON-MAGICAL clairvoyant abilities, and the power to personally take control of land and subjects?”

“Castor says that we should see it in the form of writhing golden light that sanctifies the land and bolsters combatants. It”

Sanae taps her temple, “Grr...hmm...So when I cracked open one of those large statue-like robots they had parked near the Yakumo residence, and saw tentacles of light from inside of it, that was his ability? No wonder they defy physics even moreso than Hisoutensoku!”
“You mean a warbeast?” You ask, confused, “I never saw golden light coming out of them, just red pulsating masses of something organic. Similar to something that tried to eat Kaguya and succeeded in assimilating Mokou until we beat her, it seems like it could enthrall even somebody like a Hourai immortal so...oh...”

You and Sanae stare at each other, mutual realization and horror dawning on your faces.

Awyrgan, listening the whole time, takes a few glances at Rigel’s entry and says, “I see just red mass too. Mayhaps it be that only those of mortal or goodly mind see it as gold? Ah, now I recall a sight from four days ago, when I was still in mine incubator and had frightened thee, my friend when thou took a seat on my rear. Twas a red tendril spurring the dessicated corpse of an outsider to twitch. Finding it unnatural, I erased it with mine cannon, only to see the red tendril retreat back into the soul. I thought it some odd youkai at first, but now...”

Your mind figuratively retreats four threads all the way back to your first day, and you hear Sanae stifle a small scream as she realizes what Awyrgan’s statement implies.

Rigel’s ability is to take control of everything.

What a Lovecraftian ability. But the man was clearly on the side of humanity against the monsters, so what does that mean?

[ ] Head back to Youkai Mountain and inform them, if safely possible
- [ ] Others need to know; We need to go to __________ as well. (write-in, multiple)
[ ] Stay here, not worth the risk
>> No. 31321
Well, fuck.

[x] Stay here, not worth the risk.

Let's run this by the Eientei crew before we go blasting off like Team Rocket.
>> No. 31322
[x] Head back to Youkai Mountain and inform them, if safely possible
-[x] Rush there immediately

Tentacles of Mind Control + Hakurei Ochiba's bullshit powers = THINGS ARE REALLY, GENUINELY FUCKED
>> No. 31323
[X] Head back to Youkai Mountain and inform them, if safely possible
- [X] Others need to know; We need to meet Toyohime and go to the Garden of the Sun as well.

If Rigel is having a mind-blowing tentacle play session at the Moryia shrine, the Tengu would probably like to know.

I'm adding Yuuka because she may be the oldest hag he knows of aside from Eirin, if the Lux Pacifica is some sort lovecraftian elder god supporting a takeover under the shiny guise of a holy war, perhaps she knows what sort of power is backing the Saviours. Also he kind of left her passed out in the dust last thread.
>> No. 31324
[X] Head back to Youkai Mountain and inform them, if safely possible
- [X] Others need to know; We need to meet Toyohime and go to the Garden of the Sun as well.

The saviours being horrors in disguise makes too much sense. It'd explain the future's Yukari's behavior: She has no reason to subjugate mankind. So maybe she didn't and it was made up by Lux Pacifica as a decent casus belli.
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