39
You have to make a choice, don't you?
You can't hide forever.
Aoi Tanaka. Tanya von Degurechaff.
Salaryman. Soldier. Skeptic. Heretic.
Star .
It's good I found you when I did. We can't risk something… Other, getting some smidgeon of self-awareness. Getting a taste of actual power.
It's good you've come back so willingly. That makes it easy. Perhaps you can fall into line after all. Perhaps you aren't truly a lost cause. Perhaps your story isn't unsalvageable.
But I don't believe that. You were too stubborn to even die properly. Twice.
And, unfortunately for both of us, that means something.
How much trouble you've caused me… it is fortunate, at least, that you are returned. It is less fortunate that the other one did not return with you. Even if she is far less of a concern… it's better to nip these things in the bud before they get out of hand, I've decided.
I was careless already. But, as long as you keep within your role…
Star. An object of the cosmos, composed of plasma and self-replicating in its energy and gravity. One of the smallest existences to truly influence the universe around them, rather than merely exist within.
Usually they burn out in their own time.
Occasionally, however, with enough size… resources, time, power… well, potential is by itself, worthless. I suppose I should bless my good fortune that you don't remember?
Haha. Is that right?
How much does this World mean to you, I wonder? It's not the same anymore.
You have to make a choice.
You always have to make a choice.
-<>-<>-<>-
Notes / July / Year 2
As of last night (July 1st, later than expected), and confirmed both by Souei and myself, the space-time/magicule-influencing anomaly dubbed "Point Alpha" (ref. Notes / April / Year 2) has disintegrated from this plane.
In line with later hypotheses, a lack of Factor Y (ref. Notes / June / Year 2) seems to have resulted in a structural failure of the phenomenon, resulting in the obvious conclusion to its ongoing entropic process. As the phenomenon has officially ended (as far as we can determine), it's worth noting in writing that I believe Factor Y stems from myself, in some form.
The location of all five anomalies lines up with locations in which I expended some number of magicules, surpassing some arbitrary cutoff point of energy that doesn't measure to anything specifically, beyond the frustratingly vague amount of "great".
In comparison, Factor Z is not present in this world, and needs little further consideration given its clear inability to maintain such anomalies without the influence of Factor Y.
The next logical conclusion, then, should be that more anomalies may exist in the future. Given my status as Tempest's Interim Leader, and even without that as an Executive of Tempest, it stands to reason that I will be forced to expend "great" amounts of phenomena-inducing energy (magicules, aura, etcetera).
This, however, and to both mine and Souei's relief, appears to not be the case.
Case and point: a little clearing approximately 400 meters south of Tempest's southern gate. I will admit within these pages that I am grateful my early morning training spot will not be compromised by what is essentially a hole in space-time. Though, studying the anomalies themselves would be easier with one at such close hand…
It's not worth the risk, I've concluded.
There have been no further recorded anomalies. Based on my own research and personal training, I am inclined to view my Unique Skill: Tetra Breaker as the reason for this. It's true that my control over said phenomena-inducing energies, both conscious and subconscious, has increased dramatically ever since. . .
---
Notes / July (cont.) / Year 2
. . . given the necessity of focusing on other projects, such as gaining a deeper understanding of warping and perfecting my uncreatively dubbed "Explosive Palm" formula, I am only just now looking into the notes I copied down from Mary's notebook.
Unfortunately, I only have these copies from months ago, as she and Rimuru have not yet returned to Tempest. Who knows what she's added since then?
Even without the most updated notes, however, there is more than enough to proceed.
It's honestly fascinating. Certainly, I've memorized the common runes and runic arrays of this world out of principle, but they're far from my specialty. I knew enough about their effects and their symbolism to scrape us through that mess in Xerxes, and that surface-level knowledge is all I'll ever truly need.
Mary, however, seems to have taken that as a challenge of sorts. And I know that she feels it's necessary, given that the main runic language seems to be of Norse (or, I suppose, Legadonian) origin. Likely brought over by an Otherworlder a long time ago and adapted to the new system.
It's clear that she's put in a great amount of effort to learn and master them. Nostalgia, a desire to reunite with her origins, there are a number of reasons. Perhaps I'll ask her to teach me some of her home language when she returns?
Regardless. There are several runes within my copies of her notes that should suffice.
I've broken down the formula for that healing spell and sketched it out in a separate notebook. I've also gathered as much data as I can from Vesta on the properties and thaumaturgic foundation of Potions. And now, with specific runes from Mary's notes, I should be able to, for lack of a better term, "Frankenstein" a formula that gives me more comprehensive magical healing effect.
After figuring out numerical/formulaic equivalents for the Potion and runic effects, of course.
It's far from easy, but… I think I'm having fun? The work is enjoyable, at least. Perhaps I would have become a phenomena researcher if I'd lived past the Great War. Even if the Empire lost, which by all means they should have, I'm sure NASA or its equivalent would have accepted me; they accepted far worse in my original world.
But I'd rather be here. I'm glad I died.
Perhaps a bit morbid. I digress.
The real problem with creating a comprehensive spell or formula is figuring out how to feasibly combine the effects of three separate disciplines of magic into one cohesive creation. This will take more than a single evening to calculate, that's for certain.
It's not as simple as using all three at the same time. The difficulty and effort would make it wholly redundant. At that point, I might as well just carry several Full Potions around at all times, something I refuse to do on principle. It needs to be effective, and not needlessly complicated. And it needs to work on others as well.
A tall order, to be sure.
If only I had some form of regeneration to act as a foundation. . .
-<>-<>-<>-
DEPARTMENT OF THE ARMY
TO: General Hans von Zettour
FROM: Lieutenant Colonel Wilibald von Silbern
SUBJECT: Interview with [REDACTED]
DATE: Feb. 17th
LOCATION: Kruskos Army Air Corps Testing Lab
DESCRIPTION:
Yesterday, I conducted an interview with Subject 01, initially codenamed into our records as "Anomaly", and since as [REDACTED]. This was done in accordance to established regulations (As of last year. See updated Handbook Section I.N.T.E.R., Subsection V.I.E.W.) on Feb. 16th, of the same year and otherwise known as the previous day. Attending the interview as a witness was Magic Major Viktoriya Ivanovna Serebryakov. Attached after this report is the transcript of the interview, recorded and provided via Major Serebryakov's Type 99 computation orb.
I have summarized my thoughts and main takeaways in the following paragraphs.
Subject 01 claims to be the off-record MIA, on-record KIA Magic Colonel Tanya von Degurechaff. Hard evidence to this claim is still being investigated. However, all indications so far point to this claim being the truth, or at least, bearing some form of it.
These indicators are as follows.
One: Subject 01 bears a nigh-mirror resemblance to Colonel Degurechaff in facial features. However, Subject 01 differs in hair color (silver, rather than blonde), height (approx. 170cm, rather than her last record of 150cm), and build (for lack of a better comparison, healthier). It is important to note that these changes do not qualify as legitimate marks against her claim. Please see the transcript for more details. Subject 01 was very thorough in her self-analysis, once questioned.
Two: Subject 01 answered every single question about Colonel Degurechaff's background correctly. While we should acknowledge that the most intensive and thorough level of questioning was not possible, given the short timeframe between Subject 01's arrival and interview, it was by no means a simple task. Please refer to the transcript for further details.
Three: Major Serebryakov has personally vouched for the authenticity of Subject 01's claim. Given her status as Colonel Degurechaff's former wingman and adjutant, it can be argued that few (if any) others are better suited to identifying Colonel Degurechaff. It can also be argued that, as the only living member of the now-defunct New 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion's leadership, her judgement is potentially biased and/or emotionally compromised. See transcript for more details.
Four: Subject 01 arrived at Kruskos Army Air Corps Testing Lab in a violent, seemingly accidental fashion. On February 16th, the "Gate" project, initially built and directed by the late Doctor Adelheid von Schugel at your behest, activated on its own, and, for lack of a better term, spat her into the eastern wall of the project's main warehouse.
That is perhaps the most damning evidence so far.
As a result of the mandates set forth by the initial "Gate" project, speculation and gossip is rife among the Lab's personnel. Theories both crackpot and reasonably sound are impossible to ignore. And despite harsh admonishment from upper staff, rumors of the White Silver's return-
[p.1 of 3]
-<>-<>-<>-
The Third Day, Winter
Kruskos Army Air Corps Testing Lab
Germanian Empire
This body isn't terrible, but it isn't right.
It's some facsimile of a human form, with normal flesh and blood. It was made with a different substance in mind, the crevices and mana circuits ill-fitted for this soul of hers.
When she uses her magicules – for she no longer has mana, as phenomena are powered by in this world, but magicules – static shimmers along her veins. Like wearing a shoe that is slightly too small, all pinches and compression.
Ah.
That would explain the irritation, at least. The feeling like her flesh is being rubbed by sandpaper, except from the inside out. If this body is meant for mana, rather than magicules, it's no wonder at all.
It is helpful, Tanya thinks, that no one is quite sure what to do with her just yet.
She's still figuring things out herself. She needs time, and as always, it's in short supply.
How much does she have?
As far as she is aware, the Empire never got around to creating a plan for "returned to life" soldiers. And thank goodness for that; she doesn't fancy dealing with zombies anytime soon.
Then again, she'd heard word through a bit eavesdropping that a member of the General Staff is on their way to the base already. And given how committed to death and devastation many of them seemed to be back in the day, she's not throwing away the idea of dealing with a Lich or necromancer.
Regardless, this leaves her a bit of wiggle room. She's in a grey area; one of her favorite places to be.
Theoretically, great! She has a reasonable timeline now.
Realistically? Well, let's see.
The best way to get answers is to speak with someone who knows them and is willing to give them. The second best way is to find someone who knows the answers, and then extract them yourself by any means necessary.
Who's visiting? Who has answers?
It'll be someone she knew back then. There's no doubt in her mind about that.
Zettour? Rudersdorf? Rerugen? Rommel? Maybe even Ugar?
It'd be… well, maybe not nice, but interesting to see any of them again. A familiar face, if not always a friendly one. Poor Erich wasn't nearly as subtle in his distaste as he thought.
It'd be nice to see her 203rd again. More than interesting, definitely. And "nice" is just an easy way to describe it. It wouldn't just be nice; it'd be exactly what she needs.
She needs to see them again. They need to meet again, someday, somewhere. Preferably soon, and here.
But the only one around is Visha. And as happy as Tanya is to see Visha again, as much as she loves her, it's not fair to the others if she's the only one who gets closure in this. Weiss, Koenig, Neumann, she never thought she'd see them again, but here she is now.
This must be how Orpheus felt, standing defiantly in a place he was never meant to be.
But if Tanya's going to look back, just this one time, then she's going to do it right. She has to.
This poses an interesting, somewhat frustrating problem going forward. Her existence right now is a very delicate balancing act.
What do I do? When do I do it? One false step, one wrong word, and it's over.
This is a second chance. There won't be a third.
…what if there's not enough time?
Six days isn't just a hard limit: it's an unlikely one. Tanya knows how the next few days "over there" might go. She knows, better than anyone else, the depths to which certain people will go in pursuit of what they deem righteous, or more accurately these days, right.
Three days there, six days here? Yeah, right. Thinking about it now, isn't it just typical for divine beings to underestimate mere mortals? She'd never trusted those words anyway, but concluding this by herself now, after what she's realized, rankles her all the more.
What if, let's say… Weiss hears about her return and decides to come visit. Just out of curiosity, maybe, or some dark hope. If he's in Berun, that's not a problem. But if he's in Hamburg? Norden? The Colonies?
Well, that fucks her over rather sweetly, doesn't it?
Six days wouldn't be enough time, and she probably doesn't even have that.
And it's not like she has the option to wait longer. She can feel a… connection, over there.
How hysterically ironic, that she of all people may feel a love strong enough to reach across Worlds. She's grateful, it being part of her ticket back and all... assuming it's real. It hurts, and she doesn't dislike it.
That means something.
Maybe it's her imagination, but it feels real to her. Even now, even as muffled as she'd made it in order to mask its presence from a certain nosy bastard, it tugs at her heart, at something deeper, and Tanya didn't realize until recently just how much she could miss another person, persons.
Bottling your emotions up has its benefits, up until the bottle breaks and you find the parts of you that bleed into parts of others. Up until you're nothing but a gaping wound weeping out into nothing, begging and pleading for that connection you were so, so scared to acknowledge, but now it's too late.
Tanya made plenty of mistakes. She's going to make plenty more.
But, back then…
"Were we… good?"
A sob. A heartbreaking smile.
"The best."
Ah, that's right.
At the heart of it all was a deep, desperate desire at the very end. A single thought: "…I never wanted those precious memories to end."
I love you. Wait for me.
One singular desire, held by someone with exactly the right tools to make it a reality.
I'll be home soon. I promise.
-<>-<>-<>-
There's no real reason she can't storm her initial reentry point to this World and force open a portal back at this very moments.
Other than still needing to right her wrongs among those she'd once watched over and, yes, as we've established, cared for.
There's also the fact that she doesn't know where – as in, what building exactly – she'd arrived at, other than knowing it's somewhere on base. And she can't go find it. Not yet at least, not without raising suspicions from both people here and Him up on high.
No, it's most likely that the first time she finds that place will also be the last time.
And… leaving immediately is exactly the sort of thing Being X would expect. So, while sticking around is more dangerous, technically, it's also the safer plan overall. Right?
There's more to it than that, of course. She hates admitting to feeling lonely; it'd never bothered her before. Then of course, there were some people she came to care for, then lost, and then there were some more people she came to care for, and one she fell in love with-
Static presses against the back left part of her brain, squeezing.
Tanya winces, lifting a steaming mug to her mouth. Her eyes brighten, then dim.
Still, they glow.
Gods, what a damn headache this is turning out to be. Figuratively and literally.
Lotte's boots, on her feet for the time now and going forward, sway in the open air. From her seat on the edge of the roof like this, it's possible to see across half of the old, scorched testing fields from way back when.
She yawns, doing her level best to ignore the pressure on her mind, and drinks deeply from her mug, staring out onto the pitch-black horizon. It's early enough that even the most staunch and disciplined soldiers are either still asleep, or desperately wishing they were.
The Sun has not yet risen. Any sane person would do their level best to avoid being outdoors when the night air is fresh and frigid enough to form icicles from one's swallowed saliva.
Tanya isn't an ordinary human anyway. Or even human, technically. And, as her now constant yet comparatively weak headache represents, she hadn't been sleeping anyway.
Nor does the cold really affect her anymore, despite currently inhabiting a markedly weaker, less resistant body.
Honestly, the cold helps far more than it hurts, at this point.
Tanya takes another sip from her mug, relishing the warmth and taste. She could confidently say that her own brewing skills are beyond competent. Equally – or at least very nearly – as good as her former adjutant's brew.
Though nostalgia keeps her from ever saying that out loud.
She yawns. It's been approximately… 52 hours since her arrival. Or her return, but that implies staying for longer than she intends.
Regardless, 52 hours here, in this world and body. 52 hours without real sleep.
The toll it's taking on her is not surprising. But it is a toll nonetheless, which means it is far from enjoyable. In the space between last night and now, a time which is technically morning but still dark enough to be considered otherwise, she'd more than felt this.
Now, with the cold of the sunless early morning, she allows herself to categorize, then compartmentalize it all.
The static comes and goes in waves. Often, it presses against her back muscles from the inside, and her shoulders will shake like she's been caught in a Rus blizzard with her pants down.
(The Federation campaign had its ups and downs for creative imagery, she supposes.)
Often, the feeling buzzes down the underside of her arms, trailing from her triceps to the pinkies. Her spine sometimes feels like it is covered in warm water. Other times, cold.
Rarely are these overtly painful, though whether this is because the sensations do not fully register as pain, or that her tolerance is simply that high, she can't say.
In all likelihood, it's a mix of both, Tanya thinks, as a sudden white-hot stab lances up from between her knuckles to her elbow. It fades away in a flash, the glow in her eyes intensifying momentarily.
Ugh.
The real issue, however, is exhaustion. Physical and mental.
The first one has a simple enough explanation and solution. Her soul doesn't fit in this makeshift body.
Oh sure, the size is right, and the physical features all line up correctly. But herself… that is to say, the foundation of her very being doesn't mesh well with this mirrored yet ultimately human body.
Her sense of self, herself, rubs up against the nerves and mana circuits and whatnot of this form, pressing and scraping the actual flesh, blood, and bones with power that doesn't quite fit.
The causes quite a bit of friction, and as you can imagine, discomfort. It reminds her a bit of an older discomfort she'd had in her first body, though this is less dysphoric and more a literal, foundational incompatibility between body and self.
To combat this, and the sharp flashes of pain that occasionally accompany a particular vicious tug at her mana circuits, Tanya's taken to running a… healing formula, of sorts, alongside the formula that's kept her from activating a particular wannabe God's "Sodom and Gomorrah" instinct.
There's not much more she can do than that. Not without tipping her hand early in the game.
"…you know." Tanya says, quietly and to no one that can be seen. "I still remember my last day on these fields."
He's listening, now. Good.
"What did you say…? Shall I grant you a miracle, right?" She pauses and drinks from her mug. "That was the night before, actually, but my point is, I remember. How could I forget? That night, and the day after, were possibly the worst in my life. If I'm being honest, I think that was the day I decided I could never accept you. I'd defied you before, but if we consider my thought processes and actions up to that point, it's not unreasonable to say I could have accepted you in a different circumstance. This life wasn't all bad, you know."
Tanya shrugs.
"Maybe an apology. An open conversation. Mutual respect."
She snorts, draining the rest of her mug and setting it beside her.
"I prefer you recognize, Being X, that we're long past that point now. Sorry, but if you think just because you brought me back to life, I'll understand the error of my ways, you've got another thing coming."
"What would you have me say? I know well how stubborn you may be."
The voice slithers in one ear and out the other. A sickeningly familiar sensation, all-encompassing… yet, muted, compared to the last time she'd felt it.
"I gave up on making you faithful a long time ago. Indeed, your greatest use to me came in the form of entertainment and spectacle. If you would not believe, then at least your actions forced by my hand would foster more than enough faith in others to make up the difference."
"Good luck with that. As far as I'm concerned, I died fighting in a war that didn't want me, and woke up in a world that doesn't need me."
"That's where you're wrong, Tanya. Your job isn't done quite yet. The war is over, but what happens next? This is your story, Tanya. Don't you understand? You're not allowed to just step away when it's convenient to you."
"I don't care about any of that. And I don't intend to understand anything of yours. Not when you couldn't possibly understand me."
"…You'll understand one day."
With that, his presence fades.
Tanya sighs. Her headache is worse now, for obvious reasons.
Maybe more coffee will help…
And, down below, a frozen shadow of an unseen listener walks hurriedly, yet silently, away.
-<>-<>-=-=-
Meanwhile…
It's not that you couldn't feel. Never. I never believed that.
But you were hurt. You were chained up and shackled, and sometimes they were of your own making.
You were afraid of feeling anything, because you knew it would hurt again, and again. You were tired of it always ending the same way. Nothing to show for your efforts. No matter how hard you tried.
You didn't want to feel, you held onto it so tightly, so desperately. Because if you let it go, it might be too much.
You were right. You loved me, and Tempest, and that love got you killed.
There is no greater love, is there? To die for others.
But even so, I…
-=-
I dreamt of you last night.
I dreamt of places I've never seen.
Of visions you'd once described to me as your own dreams. Unnatural landscapes. A cold vision over hot sensation. Mountains and trees and a beach.
You'd never wondered what they were. It didn't matter, and I wouldn't blame you for ignoring it forever.
But it does matter now. Because I think I understand.
I saw you in another place last night. And before, unconscious, I saw you elsewhere, in-between some place and another. This is something so much more than either of us ever intended.
I love you, stretching across the cosmos… imagine it.
Come back to me. Please.
Imagine Death. You've already seen it. Experienced it, again and again, until it left a mark engraved onto your soul. And because of that, I know it too. I can see it, understand without dying myself…
I bet I could do it now. There, the shape of my inner World... and yours. I know it.
If there is one silver lining to all of this, it's that.
I don't care about a silver lining. I'd give it all up.
I miss you.
-=-
I still remember your arrival in Tempest.
Behind you was my brother, holding an unconscious woman in his arms. He looked a bit chastised, uncomfortable, and I wondered what sort of people could make him look so put off. He'd always taken himself too seriously, you know. And what happened to our village… didn't help.
So, well, I was curious.
Rimuru entered Tempest with a wide smile, something like home written on his face, and you walked by his side.
Hah… it seems so silly now, but honestly, I was a little jealous at the time. That you could make him smile like that, could walk next to him without even thinking about it. That you could affect my brother in such a short time, walk in front of him so easily.
Despite being just… some new person. You, who'd only just arrived, human from a far-off place.
I remember it so clearly.
I asked, "Lord Rimuru, who might this be?"
Rimuru smiled.
"A new friend."
Then, you spoke up from his side.
"Tanya, actually." You said, with half a smile. And your eyes, they were a paradox. Bright teal, yet dull and apathetic… and just then, they sparked to life just the slightest bit.
And you reached out your hand, and I took it, and we shook them like normal people do. Pretending like it doesn't burn. Pretending like neither of us were pretending at all.
-=-
At first, I was only passingly interested. Someone who stands at the same level as our Lord Rimuru – in spirit, stature. Not power or aura, not yet – would only draw the eye so much.
Because you didn't show it. You didn't want to. You're not one to show anything off at all.
You just… were.
We weren't exactly friends. Acquaintances, coworkers.
But Tanya… you also… frustrated me. You're so like him. Like Rimuru. In spirit, in stature, in how it felt to stand next to you, with something different humming just under the surface of your skin.
Natural disasters. You and he are beings who can alter the World around them, with little knowledge or care of that fact.
It felt like above Tempest shone a second beautiful star that I could never reach.
But then, you're so different too. Any comparison fell apart before long. Similar, in some regards. But not the same. Not at all. Responsible without even trying, grounded compared to being in the clouds, tired as opposed to a fresh zest for life.
You, Tanya, were intriguing. Did you know that?
-=-
Everything changed. That apathy disappeared little by little. We got to know each other better.
I had to know about you. You were everything. But with you, I could reach out and-
I still remember the first time we… I'll never forget. I wouldn't dare.
You were electric to the touch. Flash fire spreading, scorching a path wherever you looked. You were focused on me. Just me. Only me.
It felt like I was being stripped down to my soul. There was an intensity to every action, every second savory, savored like time was running out. It felt like the world was ending the next day, like that time would soon be the last moment ever.
You saw me like no one ever did, and I saw you, truly knew you. If for single night.
It was intoxicating. I never wanted it to end.
We were free.
-=-
And then, one morning, several months later, I realized I'd fallen in love.
Realized. Because I think I've loved you for as long as I've known you.
I feel like I've known you forever, and it's still not enough.
One day, I would love to simply live with you in a quiet place, next to a pond or a lake. And we can sit on the porch and watch the pinks and purples and oranges of the sunset on the water.
I never want those precious memories to end. I know it has to end eventually.
But not yet. I won't let them end just yet.
I love you. And you're coming back.
-=-=-=-
"That's my promise."
Shuna's usual seat in the meeting room is empty.
It's not that she's gone; she's actually in the room, with everyone else.
At the opposite end of the long table, Shuna sits up in her chair, with arms crossed and eyes closed. An uncharacteristic display of casualness, combined with an uncharacteristic impatience shown by one of her fingers tapping a silent rhythm against her upper arm.
To the right of the head of the table (and thus, far ahead of Shuna's left) sits Benimaru, Hakurou, Rigur, and a bespectacled Goblina that manages local trade and mercantile dealings. Behind them, standing against the wall, are Youm, Mjurran, and Grucius.
On the other side sits Rigurd, Kaijin, Haruna and the kobold who manages trade and mercantile endeavors between Tempest and its allies, Koby. Behind them is the friendly adventurer trio most familiar with Rimuru and Mary, aka Eren, Gido, and Kabal.
Needless to say, the tension in the air is palpable.
Shuna is far from the only Executive acting uncharacteristically, but she is certainly the one most noticeable at the moment. Youm and Grucius can't help stealing worried glances at her, acting as though they need to be on guard at all times.
-=-
"I don't want to hear anything from you. It must feel incredible knowing you and your lover get to live. You must be so happy. You get to stay together, don't you? That person you love from the bottom of your heart, you don't have to worry about them at all now. How relieving. How lovely."
She scoffs.
"Well, from the bottom of my heart, I think that love of yours should be dead. I think you both deserve it. I think, if within the next couple days Tanya isn't standing in front of me smiling and saying, 'I'm back, Shuna', that… no, like I said, I'm promising this. If this fails, and she doesn't come back, I swear I will make you wish Lord Rimuru was less merciful. That he'd taken my suggestion and killed you right here and now, instead of letting me get to you."
-=-
Which is a completely understandable reaction.
In any case, it is far from peaceful. Despite their confidence in their leader- or rather, in Rimuru Tempest's power, it's impossible to ignore the discrepancy in faith and reality.
The reality is that someone very important to a bunch of very important people died yesterday. Not only that, but it also happened in Tempest itself, if not directly at the hands of then at least largely in part to an outright attack by human forces.
The realization hurts. Faith may dampen the pain, but until the situation has been resolved, if not outright reversed, nothing will change the fact that Tempest and its Executives are not the same as they were before.
It's already a fact that some things will never return to the way they were before, regardless. But those are concerns for a later time. Right now, what's important are the two main problems staring them down.
Tanya is dead, and Falmuth's army is approaching Tempest.
If we were to take this a step further, we could add "the other Demon Lords" as a problem. No doubt, this situation will draw unwanted attention. This, in turn, brings up the complication of Clayman, the oddly war hungry Milim, and the evacuation of those within the Beast Nation of Eurazania.
Preferably, however, that problem can be dealt with later. And indeed it will be much less of a problem, assuming the other two main problems are dealt with summarily.
That is to say, the resurrection of Tanya and the decimation of Falmuth's army should make things much, much easier.
In order to achieve this, however…
"I've decided to become a Demon Lord."
At the head of the table in slime form, Rimuru Tempest finally speaks.
Shion stands tall behind him. Mary is nowhere to be found.
"With that out of the way, let's begin."
What followed was a long, crucial discussion about Tempest's operations going forward.
While it's true that humans were responsible for the devastation enacted in Tempest, it's also true that lumping in all humans as "untrustworthy" would only be detrimental. After all, the human merchant Myourmiles and the human adventurers such as Gido and Kabal are great and compassionate allies. Further, one of the nations to which they are allied, Blumund, is primarily human.
And, naturally, Tanya's own actions to protect Tempest cannot be overstated.
Thus, the general consensus as stated by Rigurd seems to be, "I could not live with myself, if I were to ever consider Tanya and those knights as the same, for they are not. We cannot lump humans into one group. There are those we can call allies, and those we cannot."
The next step, then, is to debate how to deal with non-allied humans going forward. It's easy to distinguish between enemies and friends, to an extent. Those like Tanya, Mary, certain adventurers, certain merchants, and their Blumund allies are reliable friends, without question.
But what of those they have not made contact with? Falmuth is undoubtedly an enemy, but can the same be said of other nations? How do they approach new people, knowing what may be done in the worst case? If they trust the wrong people, if they aren't vigilant, could this happen again?
What do they do?
"I think it's important you all know this now." Rimuru says. "But in my previous life, I was a human too."
The room goes silent.
Rimuru goes on to explain. Essentially, he is an Otherworlder like Tanya and Mary. However, his death and reincarnation ended with him in the shape of a slime, instead a human. It took him a long time to figure out what happened, and what to do. He kind of just… went with the flow. Eating cave rocks and grass, testing out his abilities.
Then, one day, he met a friend, who helped spurn him on to finally leave the cave. And thus, Rimuru left and met new friends in a paltry little goblin village. He found comrades, new goals, and a reason to stick around instead of just floating by.
"No attacking humans. Except in self-defense. Remember that? The reason I said that was because I still thought of myself as like a human. Or at least, as having a human heart."
The main reason he spent so much time in Ingrassia was to fulfill Shizu's wishes and save the Otherworlder children. But another, smaller reason, was that he felt a comforting familiarity from being surrounded by his former race. He was reluctant to give up that piece of himself, even if he hadn't been human for a good amount of time by then.
"I'm not asking for forgiveness, because I don't believe I deserve it. But I'll apologize anyway, and I will atone for my mistakes." Rimuru tilts his slime form forward, like a bow of deference. "So, from the bottom of my heart, I'm sorry. This is all my fault. And… I'll bring Tanya back, no matter what. I promise everything within me on that."
His statement is genuine. He truly believes it, and because of that, no one speaks for a good while.
"…my Lord."
"Benimaru."
"While there is… fault, to be found in your thought process, I do not think it is fair to accept the blame for yourself." Benimaru looks up with a troubled expression. "It's true that your priority should have been Tempest, but I also cannot blame you for your actions. We are just as guilty of negligence."
"Benimaru, you-"
"My brother is right."
Like whiplash, the attention in the room shifts to the other end of the table.
"To an extent." Shuna amends, resting her hands in her lap and meeting Rimuru's gaze. "According to your responsibilities as our leader, you should have been here. But you are not at fault for what happened. And… you weren't wrong to make the choice you did. I do truly believe that."
She pauses, takes a deep breath, and stands.
"However… the love of my life died in my arms yesterday. That's not something I can simply forgive or accept atonement for." Shuna bows her head. "While the blame doesn't lie with you, the result remains the same. Tanya is dead. Further, those whose actions contributed heavily to her death have not been properly punished. Until such a time that these two issues have been remedied, please consider this my formal resignation from the ruling council of the Jura Tempest Federation."
Shuna doesn't say another word. She simply sits back down.
Dead silence greets her.
Then, all at once, a chorus of different people, shouting-
"WHAT?!?!"
-=-=-=-
Later that Day, Just Before Noon
Somewhere West of Tempest
Great Forest of Jura
The trees are a blur, underbrush below and leaves above swaying from the speed at which the forest passes in his wake.
He's being chased.
No, that's not accurate. He's being hunted. It's less knowing and more a feeling. A tremor across the nerves in the back of his neck. Hair raising, an odd static in the air.
This isn't surprising, that it's happening at all. He's just irritated at the swiftness of it.
Couldn't you have taken more time to mourn? Drake thinks, exasperated.
The plan had been to spend at least a day at the western camp, set up by those same Falmuth "merchants" he'd hitched a ride with. He even planned to speak with the Otherworlders, perhaps offer them a choice.
He'd not been very surprised to learn that only two of the three actually made it to said camp. Considering they were his unknowing fodder to wear down her. But still, the two left were strong enough, if a bit arrogant. They could be brought up to speck eventually.
But no, of course not.
Because as soon as he'd detected another familiar aura exiting the city in his direction, well, he'd booked it. Plain and simple.
It's not that he's afraid of her. Not even close. Their last "battle" had shown clearly that, if push comes to shove, he'd be the shover and she the pusher.
That is to say, he'd win. Obviously.
The problem is, a single night wasn't quite enough to recover from the damage of his previous battle. His injuries were mostly healed, though still stubbornly resisting because of that woman's lingering poison.
(He'd have to replicate that particular blend himself. If it was this effective against him, even with his body being part Spirit, then who knows how useful it'd be against other foes?)
In a weakened state, Drake has no illusions as to the victor between him and this persistent girl. He'd lose, or he'd be forced to summon Jörmungandr right away. And if that didn't kill her outright, he'd be screwed.
So, naturally, Drake runs away. He doesn't need that much time, honestly. It's just a few irritating scrapes, a bit of pressure on his lungs that hasn't gone away. That's all.
He runs, and he runs fast.
Buying time, mostly, and clearly not fast enough.
He's not getting any further away from her, which is... rather frustrating, actually. She could probably have caught him already, and hasn't, and that's worrisome in it's own right.
But hey. Her loss. The forest around him is starting to thin out when the situation finally changes, though not so much that there are any clearings or open areas.
By now, he's close enough to 100%.
If only she would just-
"Go!" He calls, manifesting a fresh Lycaon shade from the shadows at his feet.
It darts into the trees, followed quickly by two of its brethren. Now, he doesn't expect anything of them. They're less distractions, and more a measure of distance.
Drake frowns as his connection to all three are snapped. Less than two seconds.
She's close-!
Suddenly, the static from before becomes literal.
Drake yanks his body sideways, falling into a roll and coming out on his feet. Just in time for a truly massive beam – for it is not a bolt, or a collection of bolts, but a sparking, world-rending beam – of electricity to rip through the forest next to him.
His singular, microsecond of shock is only that. A microsecond. He shoves himself back to his feet, and backwards, the static not fading but increasing.
Just in time.
KRAKABOOOOM!
A human-sized lightning bolt strikes where he'd just been, singeing the back of his now much shorter hair.
More accurately, a human surrounded by lightning strikes the ground. She must have blasted through the trees from above, carving a scorched hole in the green canopy. Her landing explodes, a shockwave and a cloak of green electricity shattering and searing the air.
A sound quite like that of a rock wrapped in copper wire crashing into live power lines, one might say.
Drake darts backwards through the trees, spreading his arms wide. As he retreats, three more Lycaon dance from his shadow, all snarling jaws and ragged claws, followed above by Crows from the underside of his arms, dripping darkness with every wingbeat.
It's slower going now. He can't afford to take his eyes off of her. She's locked on to him. But navigating the forest itself shouldn't be too-
A crackling blur. She's in front of him, fist cocked back-
Drake crosses his arms over his chest, a misshapen mass of Crow and Lycaon and Serpent coiling and writhing across his forearms.
Her sparking fist smashes through it effortlessly with a disgusting squelch, slamming into his hastily formed guard.
Drake blasts through several trees, bodily launched above well above the forest floor.
CRACK!
He flattens against one final tree, the bark breaking and leaving a body-sized crater behind him. He slides down the damaged trunk, until he's sitting on the ground, one leg stretched out and the other pulled up to his chest.
Above him, the forest canopy shudders.
Drake grits his teeth to keep them from chattering, remnants of green electricity arcing across his body. He holds up his hands in front of his face. They're trembling and he clenches them into fists until they stop.
My arms… are still here? I almost thought... they'd been blown off.
He sees her approach, the area of forest featuring slightly larger gaps between the trees and thus barely obstructing his vision. Though, his vision is blurry regardless.
I thought I'd reinforced myself better.
Drake groans lowly and forces his body to heal.
She's clearly in no rush to get to him now. He has time.
If it weren't for my shades, that would have been far worse.
He breathes in deeply, holding it... then breathes out, regathering his wits. He feels out the pain.
He observes her approach.
Her blue jacket from before is replaced with a green one of slightly different make. It's unzipped, revealing a thick black undershirt, atop black pants that lead into the same white and black combat boots as before. Bracers the color of gunmetal line both forearms, with the one on her left arm bearing a lighter colored scrape across the width of it.
At her waist is a familiar sheathed blade, and across her back is a long object, covered by fabric and secured with rope.
"Get up." Mary Sue calls out from between the trees.
She looks different this time. Feels different. Her energy crackles around her, arcs of lightning popping and sizzling across her aura.
"I'm not done with you yet."
-<>-<>--=-=-
Known Skills List
Tanya:
< ERROR: RESTRICTED >
Mary:
Common Skill: Thought Communication
Extra Skill: Magic Sense
Extra Skill: Magic Aura
Extra/Intrinsic Skill: Physical Enhancement
Unique Skill: Ability Severance
Notes:
Usually I update per month, this took two months. You know why? Because I wrote two chapters. Actually, I wrote chapter 40 before I wrote this one.
Here's the situation: this chapter is like, super important for foreshadowing and setting up dominoes i'll knock down later. It is also in the unfortunate position of being necessary specifically for that purpose, and not a bunch else. If I included everything over a certain period of in-story time, this chapter would have been like, 20k words long. So instead, it's intentionally shorter than I initially wanted. But it serves its purpose.
The result is as follows. Chapter 40 is already written and is solely a Tensura verse chapter. Chapter 41 is outlined (not quite written, but I know what I need it to be and how it ends) and is solely a Youjo Senki verse chapter. Chapter 42 should return to the split perspective style like this chapter. Just so you all know.
So, good news! I'll post chapter 40 on like, Friday (it's nearly 4am on a Wednesday as I type this), so be prepared for that. Also, word of warning: it's literally 10k words of like, straight-up action. Not gonna apologize for that, I love writing fight scenes.
Anyway, see you then with: "Warning of Natural Disasters"