Methods

(Kaelith's POV: Since there's no need to do Forever Fall due to no Jaune we are skipping it to focus on this)

The air in the interrogation room was always stale, recycled and thin, a subtle reminder of the layers of concrete and steel separating us from the world above. It was a sterile box, designed for containment, not combat. Yet, for the past 3 months, it had become my personal dojo, and Nevara's crucible.

She stood across from me, golden eyes narrowed, her white priestess dress replaced by a more practical, form-fitting training gi Ozpin had reluctantly provided. It was a deep, muted grey, a stark contrast to her usual ethereal white, but it allowed her to move.

"Ready?" I asked, my voice flat, devoid of inflection. I didn't wait for an answer. My body was already coiled, a spring ready to release.

The first strike was mine. A blur of motion, a feint to her left, then a rapid shift of weight into a spinning back kick aimed at her midsection. She reacted instantly, a flicker of that spatial distortion she called "Phase Step" allowing her to vanish and reappear a foot to her right.

Good. Her reaction time is improving. She's anticipating the feint now.

But I was already there. My kick, instead of connecting with empty air, arced into a low sweep, catching her ankle the moment her foot touched the ground. She stumbled, a surprised gasp escaping her lips.

This wasn't the Nevara from the Emerald Forest. That Nevara had relied almost entirely on Gehaburn and her teleportation. This Nevara was learning. She was adapting.

She twisted, regaining her balance with a fluid, almost serpentine grace, and lashed out with a palm strike. It was fast, imbued with a surprising amount of force for a physical attack. I parried, deflecting her wrist with a precise block, redirecting her momentum.

"Faster," I murmured, my voice a low hum. "But still telegraphing."

She snarled, a flash of frustration in her golden eyes. She launched into a flurry of strikes, a rapid combination of punches and kicks that, while still lacking the raw power of her HDD form, were delivered with a newfound aggression. Each blow was aimed at vital points, a clear sign she was learning to fight with intent, not just relying on brute force.

I danced around her, a blur of defensive movements. My body flowed like water, parrying, weaving, slipping past her attacks with minimal effort. I didn't counter yet. I was observing. Allowing her to push, to reveal the limits of her new capabilities.

Her movements were sharper, her footwork more grounded. She was no longer just teleporting away; she was using it to reposition, to create openings, to escape my immediate pressure. The spatial distortions were smaller, tighter, indicating more control.

Her speed has increased, catching up to her durability, and she had increased her raw strength. She even began to master control over her power.

"You're improving," I stated, my voice cutting through the rhythmic thud of her strikes. "Your technique is less… chaotic. More focused."

She didn't respond verbally, but her attacks intensified. A powerful roundhouse kick, aimed at my head, forced me to duck under it. As I straightened, she unleashed a rapid jab, followed by a knee strike to my abdomen. I blocked both, the impact barely registering.

Still too slow. Sure she had increased every aspect of herself, but it would take a while to reach my level.

And then, I moved.

A single, precise jab, aimed not at her face, but at the pressure point just below her collarbone. It wasn't meant to injure, but to disrupt. Her breath hitched, her posture momentarily breaking. Before she could recover, I spun, my leg sweeping low, tripping her. She fell, landing with a soft thud on the padded floor.

She scrambled back to her feet, panting slightly, her golden eyes burning with a mixture of frustration and something else—a dawning realization.

"You're holding back," she accused, her voice rough. "You always are."

"Naturally," I replied, my expression impassive. "Why waste energy on an opponent who cannot push me? This is training, Nevara, not a death match. Though I am always open to the latter, should you feel so inclined."

She glared, then looked away, a flicker of something akin to shame crossing her features.

"I… I can't access it," she muttered, almost to herself. "My Share Energy. It's… gone. Completely."

Wait, her Share Energy is gone?

"The source of your power. Your HDD form. Your abilities. And it's gone. How long?"

She clenched her fists, her knuckles white. "Since… since I woke up in this cell. It's like… the connection is severed. I can feel it, a faint echo, but I can't draw on it. It's like the entire network has collapsed."

Interesting. A collapse of the Share Energy network. That implies a systemic failure in her home dimension. Not just a localized issue.

"And what does that mean?" I pressed, my gaze unwavering. "For you. For your… organization."

Nevara hesitated, her golden eyes darting around the sterile room, as if searching for an escape, or perhaps, a distraction. "It means… I'm cut off. My power is finite. And if the network is truly gone… then my sisters… they are vulnerable. Or worse. They are gone."

That was new information. She had CPU Candidates.

A flicker of genuine fear, raw and unmasked, crossed her face. This was new. This was not the arrogant goddess from the Emerald Forest. This was a being stripped of her power, facing an existential crisis.

"So, your power source is reliant on the collective belief or 'Shares' of your followers and if that belief wavers, or the source of it is destroyed… you lose your power. This 'collapse' of your network implies a catastrophic event in your home dimension. Something that has either wiped out your followers or shattered their faith on a massive scale. But in that event, you should be vanishing since Shares are what sustain your existence." I mused, more to myself than to her, my brow furrowing slightly in genuine analytical thought.

This was a significant data anomaly. Now there was a way for this to work, but she already confirmed she was a Hyperdimension-type Goddess.

"Unless, of course, your particular brand of godhood has a backup battery. Perhaps it's a slow fade? Or maybe something is still giving you Share Energy," I leaned against the cold metal wall, crossing my arms deep in thought, "given your current, rather solid state, I'm leaning towards the latter. Or perhaps, your followers simply decided they'd had enough of your 'divine' leadership and collectively unfollowed you on the cosmic equivalent of social media."

Nevara flinched, her golden eyes flashing with a mix of fury and genuine hurt. "They wouldn't! They are my followers! My… my people!"

"Are they?" I countered, my voice flat. "Or were they merely a resource? A wellspring of power for you to draw upon, without true reciprocation? You used them. You didn't lead them. There's a difference."

Although, I guess I couldn't say much. I, too, used people.

"My particular brand of godhood," Nevara spat, the insult seemingly sparking a flicker of her old arrogance. "Is not reliant on fleeting mortal belief. It is… more fundamental. Share Energy is simply… a conduit. A means to access the full extent of our power. Without it, we are… diminished. But not gone."

She paused, then added, almost defensively, "And it's not a 'slow fade.' It's… a blockade. Like a massive, interdimensional firewall has been erected. I can feel the energy, a vast ocean, but I can't reach it. It's infuriating."

I hummed, pushing off the wall. "A firewall, you say? Interesting. So, not a 'cosmic unfollowing,' then. More like a 'divine denial of service attack.' Someone really doesn't want you connected to the network. Or, perhaps, they've just installed a really aggressive pop-up blocker on the entire dimension." I walked closer, circling her slowly, my gaze analytical. "Though, if you're not vanishing, that suggests a baseline existence separate from the Share Energy. A core. Which is... good for you, I suppose. Less paperwork for Ozpin if you don't spontaneously cease to be."

She narrowed her eyes, a hint of suspicion mixing with her frustration. "Why are you always like this? So… detached. So… irritatingly logical."

"Emotions are messy, prone to error, and notoriously inefficient for problem-solving. Detachment provides clarity. As for irritating… I merely present facts. If your ego chooses to interpret objective reality as an affront, that's hardly my concern." I replied with a shrug, a tiny, almost imperceptible smirk touching my lips. I stopped in front of her, my arms crossed. "Though I admit, watching you squirm is rather amusing."

Nevara let out a frustrated growl, running a hand through her white hair. "You're impossible."

"Perhaps," I conceded, "but demonstrably effective. And right now, you need effective. So, 'firewall' means someone or something actively cut off your access. Which implies a very powerful adversary. Someone with enough juice to sever an entire dimensional network. Your organization might not be as invincible as you thought, huh? Makes you wonder who else they've been lying to."

Her expression flickered. A deep frown creased her brow, and her gaze dropped to the floor. The arrogance had entirely vanished, replaced by a raw, uneasy vulnerability. "The Sins… they are beyond reproach. Beyond error."

"Oh, honey," I said, my voice softening just a fraction, enough for this, "nobody is beyond reproach. Especially not people who call themselves 'The Sins.' That's literally the villain playbook, page one, chapter one: 'Give yourself an obnoxiously self-important, morally dubious title.' It screams insecurity, not invincibility."

I pushed off the wall, stepping towards her. "look, I get it. Your entire worldview just got uppercutted by reality. That's rough. But here's the thing: you're still here. You're still breathing. And you're still growing stronger every time we spar. Which, let's be honest, is entirely my doing."

She looked up, startled by the unexpected shift in my demeanor. "You're… you're complimenting yourself for my improvement?"

"Naturally," I said, a genuine, albeit small, smile gracing my lips. "It's a testament to my superior training methods. But also, to your own adaptability. You're no longer relying on a crutch. You're building from scratch. And that, Nevara, is something genuinely impressive. It shows you're not just some entitled deity who folds when her cheat codes stop working. You're… actually pretty tenacious. For a 'Goddess of Betrayal,' anyway."

Her eyes widened slightly, a flicker of something unreadable in their golden depths. Then, a slow, hesitant breath escaped her. "Tenacious… I suppose."

"Damn right, tenacious," I affirmed. "You took a beating, you got locked in a glorified concrete box, and your cosmic internet access got cut off. Most people would curl into a ball and weep. You, however, picked yourself up, started taking my advice—however begrudgingly—and are actually putting in the work. You're not just 'learning,' you're evolving."

I paused, letting that sink in. "And frankly, I respect that. Now, about these 'sisters' of yours. 'CPU Candidates,' I believe the term is? Did they also get caught in this… dimensional data blackout?"

Nevara's eyes clouded over, a profound sadness settling in them. "My… my sisters. Chrome, Kuromi. They… they should have been protected. I don't know if they are. If this 'firewall' affected them too… if they're still alive…"

Her voice trailed off, a raw, painful edge to it. The 'Goddess of Betrayal' looked utterly lost.

"Sumire!"

I blinked, forcing the image back into the recesses of my Axiom Memory. Not now. Focus.

"So, despite all the grand talk of 'The Sins' and 'erasing timelines,' you actually care about them," I observed, noting it. I didn't bother focusing on a memory trying to form in my mind. But that was pointless.

Nevara flinched, then glared, a fragile defiance returning to her eyes. "My purpose was to secure my nation's future! To ensure its dominance! My sisters are… integral to that purpose. They are my responsibility!"

"Right, 'responsibility.' Not 'affection' or 'love' or any of those messy, inefficient human emotions," I countered, a faint, almost imperceptible scoff in my tone. "You're a walking contradiction, Nevara. You claim to be beyond emotion, yet you're clearly terrified for your 'integral' sisters and furious about your power loss. You rail against the 'Sins' for their perceived infallibility, yet you yourself believed in it until reality gave you a swift kick to the ego."

I paced slowly, my hands behind my back, my gaze fixed on the sterile floor. "Tell me, Nevara, what does it feel like to be so utterly, demonstrably wrong about everything you thought you knew? To have your entire existence, your purpose, your very power source, yanked out from under you by some cosmic 'firewall'? Does it… chafe? Like a cheap suit?"

She bristled, her jaw tightening, but she didn't lash out. Instead, she slumped slightly, the fight draining from her.

"It… it is disorienting," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. "To be so… diminished. And to realize that the path I was on… it was a lie. A beautiful, powerful lie."

"A lie you bought into, hook, line, and sinker," I supplied, not unkindly. "Because it promised you power. And control. And a purpose. Funny, isn't it? How easily we cling to those things, even when they're built on sand."

I stopped pacing, meeting her gaze. "But here's the unvarnished truth, Nevara. You're finding strength you didn't know you had. The kind that isn't dependent on cosmic Wi-Fi or the blind faith of strangers. That's real power. The kind that doesn't fade, because it's yours."

She looked at me, a flicker of something new in her eyes. Not defiance, not fear, but… contemplation. "And you… you understand this? This… abrupt shift in reality?"

"More than you know," I replied, my voice a low hum. "We're both living proof that reality is far more flexible, and far less predictable, than anyone would like to admit. You, a goddess cut off from her power. Me, a Saiyan in a world without Ki, relying on a system that constantly throws curveballs. We're both reincarnators, Nevara. We both woke up in new lives, with new rules, and old baggage."

She flinched at the word 'reincarnators,' a subtle tremor that told me she hadn't quite processed the full implications of her own past, or perhaps, mine. It was a shared secret, an unspoken understanding that now, for the first time, hovered explicitly between us.

"So, the 'Goddess of Betrayal' is now just… Nevara," I continued, pressing the point, but gently. "And the 'System User' who kicks things until they break is just Kaelith. Stripped down. What do you do when your cheat codes are gone? You learn to fight fair. Or rather, you learn to fight better."

She let out a soft, almost imperceptible sigh. "You make it sound… simple. And yet… it is anything but."

"It's simple logic, difficult execution," I conceded with a nod. "But you're executing it. Every time you push yourself against me, every time you learn a new movement, every time you stop relying on what was and focus on what is. You're doing it. The question now is: what's your next move? Do you wallow in what's lost? Or do you forge something new?"

Nevara looked down at her hands, clenching and unclenching her fists

"I… I have to find my sisters. If they are still alive. And if they are suffering because of this… firewall…" Her voice hardened, a flicker of her old resolve returning, but now it felt tempered, grounded. "Then I will tear down that firewall. I will make 'The Sins' pay for their deceit. For their weakness."

Nevara wouldn't change fully. I knew that. But with her on my side, threats like them will be dealt with easier. Plus, I needed a stronger, more powerful tool. That's why I was doing this.

"Now that's a goal I can get behind," I said, a genuine, if brief, flash of approval in my eyes. "Vengeance and rescue. Excellent motivators. But you won't get there by clinging to old paradigms. You need to adapt. You need to learn how to exist, and thrive, without the Shares. And for that… you still need me."

She finally looked up, meeting my gaze, and for the first time, her golden eyes held a trace of something beyond defiance or fear—a hint of genuine curiosity, even a nascent respect. "So you admit it? You are helping me. Not just… observing a specimen."

I shrugged, a small, almost imperceptible gesture. "You're a valuable training partner. Your adaptability is… impressive. And frankly, your growth data is proving immensely useful for my own understanding of this world's underlying mechanics. Consider it a mutually beneficial parasitic relationship, only without the actual parasites."

She actually let out a small, dry chuckle. It was a rough sound, unused, but it was a laugh nonetheless. "You truly are insufferable, Kaelith. But… I suppose I prefer your bluntness to the false assurances of The Sins."

"Progress," I said with a thin smile. "Now, are we going to stand here discussing the nuanced definitions of 'insufferable,' or are you going to get back to training? You still have a long way to go before you can even land a single unblocked hit on me."

She nodded, a determined glint back in her golden eyes. She got back into her stance, more focused, more disciplined than before. The frustration was still there, but now it was a fuel, not a hindrance.

(POV: Third-Person)

Days bled into weeks, the rhythm of training, observation, and Kaelith's uniquely abrasive mentorship establishing a strange new normalcy for Nevara. The interrogation room, once a prison, had indeed become a crucible, refining the former goddess into something far more grounded, and ironically, stronger in spirit.

One afternoon, after a particularly grueling session that had left Nevara sprawled on the padded floor, gasping for air, Kaelith leaned against the wall, sipping from a thermos of what appeared to be perfectly chilled water.

"You're relying less on the Phase Step," Kaelith observed, her voice as flat and analytical as ever, yet with a subtle undercurrent that Nevara had learned to recognize as approval. "Your physical movements are becoming more integrated. Less rigid, more fluid."

Nevara pushed herself up, wincing as her muscles protested. "It helps when you don't instantly incapacitate me for every misstep. Though the constant insults are… a unique motivational technique."

Kaelith merely hummed. "It clearly works. You've gone from a 'Goddess of Betrayal' whose best move was to trip over her own ego, to someone who can almost keep up with a tenth of my speed. Truly a remarkable achievement for your species."

Nevara rolled her eyes, but a faint, almost imperceptible smirk touched her lips.

"Yes, yes, I'm sure your Saiyan ego is well-inflated. But seriously… I never thought I'd be… doing this. Training, fighting, learning without my powers." She looked around the stark room. "It's… humbling. And terrifying."

Kaelith took another sip of water, her gaze distant for a moment, as if sifting through a vast, personal archive.

"Humbling is a good word. Terrifying, too. It's what happens when the universe decides your previous operating system is obsolete and forces a hard reboot." She pushed off the wall, walking over to the table and setting her thermos down. "You were a goddess. You had a world that worshipped you, a power source that flowed from their collective belief. Now? You're just… you. A biological entity with a surprisingly resilient skeleton and a penchant for dramatic entrances. It's the ultimate de-escalation."

Nevara let out a dry, short laugh. "And you, the 'Super Genius' who died in a fire and woke up as a space monkey with a cosmic spreadsheet. We really are the universe's rejects, aren't we?"

"Statistically, we are anomalies. Emotionally, we are… complex. But 'rejects'? No. More like beta testers for a new reality patch. We just got the buggy versions." Kaelith's lips twitched as she picked up a small, weighted sphere from the table, idly tossing it from hand to hand.

"You think this is terrifying? Try being a child, in an environment where emotions were a weakness, in an isolating white sterile environment... Try having your entire existence defined by efficiency. By how "Perfect" you are. Only to realize that the most inefficient thing you ever did—dying to save someone—was the thing that actually matter."

Nevara's golden eyes widened, a flicker of genuine shock in them. The casual, almost flippant tone Kaelith usually adopted was gone, replaced by a raw, unvarnished honesty that was far more impactful than any outburst of anger.

The girl was talking from experience.

"You… you died for someone?" Nevara whispered, the arrogance completely stripped from her voice. "You, the one who talks about efficiency and logic… you sacrificed yourself?"

"For Mei," Kaelith confirmed, her gaze fixed on the weighted sphere, her voice flat, devoid of self-pity. "The girl I loved. It was illogical. It was inefficient. It was the most human thing I ever did in that life. And it got me this."

She gestured vaguely at her Saiyan body, then at something in front of her only she could see. "This system. This… second chance. So, yes, I understand 'abrupt shifts in reality.' I understand losing everything you thought you were, and having to build something new from the wreckage."

She finally looked at Nevara, her eyes piercing. "You mourn your lost power, your lost status. I mourn the warmth of friends, the simple joy of a shared meal, watching a sad show, the sound of a violin that could make my perfectly logical brain feel… something. We both lost. We both gained. The question is, what are you going to do with what you have left?"

Nevara was silent for a long moment, absorbing Kaelith's words. The sterile room felt heavy with unspoken truths. "I… I thought… I was the only one who felt so… adrift. So disconnected from what I was."

"Welcome to the club," Kaelith said, a faint, almost imperceptible smile touching her lips. "Membership is exclusive, the initiation process is brutal, and the benefits include existential dread and a constant urge to punch things. But at least you're not alone. And you're certainly not the only 'evil reincarnator' to realize their cosmic benefactors are actually just cosmic assholes."

Nevara actually snorted, a genuine, if still rough, sound of amusement. "You have a way with words, Kaelith. A very… aggressive way."

"It's efficient," Kaelith reiterated. "Why waste time on flowery prose when a well-placed insult achieves immediate clarity? Now, about your 'Sins.' You called them 'The Sins.' That implies a collective. A hierarchy. And a very specific brand of self-importance."

Nevara sighed, running a hand through her hair. "They are… the oldest. The ones who forged the organization. Each represents a fundamental cosmic flaw, or so they claim. The Echo-Eater, The Architect of Regret, The Queen of Inverted Cause, The Voidborne King, The Chronovore Ascendant."

"Right, the edgelord club," Kaelith muttered. "So, you're the designated scapegoat, the one who embodies the 'flaw' of turning against them. How convenient for them. Did they ever consider that maybe they were the problem, not the 'betrayal'?"

Nevara looked startled. "They… they are infallible. They are the ones who maintain order across dimensions!"

"Order?" Kaelith scoffed. "Or control? There's a difference. From what you've told me, their 'order' involves wiping out 'anomalies' and enslaving worlds. Sounds less like cosmic peacekeepers and more like interdimensional bullies with a god complex. And a serious PR problem, given how many trillions of lives that 'Redshift' apparently ruined."

"He… he was a monster," Nevara insisted, though her voice lacked conviction. "He destroyed so much. He turned on us."

"Or he saw the truth," Kaelith countered, her voice sharp. "He saw that their 'order' was just a fancy word for tyranny. And he decided to do something about it. Sounds less like a monster and more like someone with a functioning moral compass, however belatedly acquired. You, on the other hand, just followed orders until your power source got cut off. Which, again, is a rather inconvenient way to discover your own conscience."

Nevara flinched, her gaze dropping. "I… I did what was necessary for my nation. For Eden. For Gamindustri."

"And now your nation is potentially gone, and your sisters are in danger, all because the 'infallible' Sins couldn't handle one rogue Gamer," Kaelith stated, pushing the point home. "See the pattern yet? Their 'order' is fragile. Their 'infallibility' is a delusion. And their methods are clearly ineffective against true threats. Like me. Or like Redshift."

She paused, then softened her tone slightly. "Look, Nevara. You're a reincarnator. You have a chance to rewrite your story. You can cling to the old lies, or you can build something new. Something that actually protects what you care about, instead of just using it as fuel. Your sisters. Your world. Whatever's left of it. You want to find them? You want to fight for them? Then you fight with everything you have. Not with borrowed power, but with your own strength. And right now, your strength is growing every time you get back up after I knock you down."

Nevara looked up, her golden eyes meeting Kaelith's. The raw vulnerability was still there, but now it was mixed with a spark of determination, a nascent fire. "So… you think… I can truly change? That I'm not just… the Goddess of Betrayal?"

"You're whatever you choose to be, Nevara," Kaelith replied, her voice firm, unwavering. "The past is data. Useful for analysis, but not a prison. You want to be a hero? Start acting like one. You want to save your sisters? Get stronger. And for that, you need me. Because I'm the only one here who can push you hard enough to get there."

Nevara slowly pushed herself to her feet, her muscles still aching, but her gaze was steady. "Then… push me, Kaelith. Push me until I can stand against them. Until I can find my sisters. Until I can… forge something new."

A faint smile touched Kaelith's lips. "Good. Now, get back in position. We have a lot of work to do."