[Archivist Records – Authorized Access Only]

[-SUBJECT OF RESEARCH-]: The Archivist, and how he traded masters between the Director and the Director's Director, how he came to join the Chaos Gumi and why his role is entirely shrouded in classified reports, obfuscation and intrigue.

[-SCOPE OF RESEARCH-]: To provide any authorized information and collected reports of the Mysterious Archivist, and to provide insight to faithful readers who may have a passing interest in more of The Director's past life in the rough and tumble life of Mechacropolis.

[-Confirm Access] y/n? Y

[Loading/////////////////////.done]

Who am I? My name, as given to me by Master Archknight of the Omega Syndicate in YOE 40516, is “That Guy”. Master Archknight, or as my subordinates within The Archive call him “The Director” has always had a terrible naming sense.

I was given the name “That Guy”, and I have stuck with it, because at the time I was a wanted subspecies within the city of Mechacropolis and had to hide my identity. Though his naming sense is awful, Master Archknight has always had a knack for finding and befriending those that society would call, “undesirable”. That is not to say, however that all the people Master Archknight comes in to contact with are layabouts and vagabonds, but more as to say he can see the hidden potential in almost anyone.

That is especially present in his choice of life partn- well, more like “Undead” life partner. At the risk of being ejected out the airlock by Lady Yuki, I will refrain from expounding too much on my thoughts of her. Though the majority of our newfound allies in Chaos and those surrounding the Chaos Gumi find her endearing......it cannot be said that I feel the same.

But that's beside the point, isn't it? You didn't come here to hear an old man ramble, now did you? And yes, I do mean to prattle on about much of nothing, as I am using the text to speech option on the terminal that The Archive, and by extension our association with The Chaos Gumi, has afforded me.

Why am I using text-to-speech? Well, does not everyone here use TTS in some respect? Again, I find myself diverting and espousing on nonsense.

Where do I come from? Do you really want to know such things?

Fine then, before I chased down Lady Yuki as she stole away my Master from our organization – I was a wanted criminal. Or at least, the Emperor would have you believe that.

In reality, I was a lad of [redacted] when I was found by the Imperial Police mid-rescue of some enslaved “sub mutants” of which Master Archknight himself is a part of within the empire. Assistance of “subspecies” was punishable by raid laser incision of the neck, colloquially known as “We're going to zap this laser across a table, slowly and painfully until we reach your neck and then cut it off.” But I didn't give a damn, and under Master Archknight and Lady Yuki, I've learned that giving a damn about someone getting after you for doing the right thing is a thing for “normies”.

So, I then found myself within the Empire's most dangerous weapon – the hallucination chamber. What is the hallucination chamber, you might ask? A hell hole. That's what.

Here I was, a lad of [redacted for scary legal reasons] being held in this multi-paneled room covered in screens. On the screens were warped images of my loved ones, whilst they blasted suggestive and very negative thoughts through speakers inlaid behind the screen. “I am a criminal.” “I am no better than a dog.”, etc. Basically, the intent here was to make the accused THINK they are in the wrong, and to break them down until they hallucinate that their loved ones think these thing about them, and they give in. Very spooky stuff.

For days, I laid in the corner whilst screens above and below drilled these falsehoods into my head. Then, a man in a long black coat entered the room with a guard. “That guy. Yeah, that guy there is with me, Jack.” he said, before lifting me up and slipping the guard a few million credits like he was paying for a meal.

This confident, self-assured and slick businessman was my future employer... Master Archknight Project Trial 23, later Mirahiru by marriage and “Arch” for brevity.

Later into my employment with Master Arch, I found that his self-confidence was a facade. Though, somehow seeing Master Arch quiver with anxiety made his inhumane actions within the Syndicate seem almost reasonable.

Under his command, I assembled the Infrastructure and Logistics wings of The Omega Syndicate. Headed up by his beautiful secretaries, each a specialist within their regions, their work led to the foundation of the Syndicate's finances.

It continued this way for a few years until the year 40519 when Lady Yuki arrived in Syndicate Airspace. (Yes, we moved quickly in those days and YES we owned the literal sky above our facilities.) Recalling in its entirety, I believe it was Harumin of the Shizuan Sector who identified a terrifying lullaby being sung from an enormous black cloud that descended upon Master Archknight's quarters after he'd taken in some street kids for the expansion of our rackete- I mean, “Rent Allocation” businesses. We would later discover that night, that the two boys brought in were actually each members of the Royalists Guild who served to preserve the Emperor's Rule against our ...less than above board business dealings.

Thanks to Lady Yuki's intervention, we were down one leader and gained two King's Heads. Harumin quickly came from her desk in the Inner Tower and notified me that, “Some Shizuan Lady clad all in black scooped up Leader-san.” Lady Yuki has the same tendency to use these strange word endings, but in this moment it seemed particularly disconcerting. “Then, where is said 'Shizuan Lady'.” I at last asked, my bewilderment obvious on my face. “Yes...about that, Guy-san.....they're headed toward some kind of anomaly that has localized itself in Syndicate Airspace above our complex. ” Harumin said, continuing with the word endings I so despised. “Right, well..shall we chase it?” “Unfortunately sir, Imperial troops swooped in to seize the flying Shizuan....but they have disappeared.” Harumin said, looking down dejectedly. “So...can we do anything about it?” I asked, knowing what we COULD do, but not knowing if Harumin as head of the Safety Division would allow it. “Hm...we anticipated you'd ask Guy. So we scrambled all available squadrons to intercept...cloaked within the Imperial reinforcements of course.” At this, Harumin let slip a devious smile. She'd always enjoyed when we got one up on those damn Royalist scum.

Thus, I joined our covert fleet and eventually followed them to an unconquered world....a world you know, as Earth. But we in Andromeda know as...The Last Terra. Anyway, I've spoken too much, and the rest of this story is basically just that our regiments docked with the Despair...and here we are.

A middle-aged man, talking into a terminal aboard this Flying Dutchman of a Research vessel. What new wonders we will see, and what chaos we shall sow here on Earth with the help of Master Arch and Lady Chaos herself...is an open study. We hope you will continue to read further entries in this long epoch, as we expand and explain both the past and the present of our journey into Chaotic Expansion.

• The Archivist

[-Report 12 Completed? – ]

user: [Redacted Input]

pw: [redacted input]

ARESRR &|

//////////// //////////////////////// ////////////////////////////////////////////// /////////////////////////////////////////////////////// //////////////////////////////////////////////////// /////////////////////////////////////////////////// ////////////////////////////////////////////////////////// //complete //loading Final Warning.txt

cat Final_Warning.txt

Dear Researcher,

By submitting an ARESRR, (Advanced Research Equipment Supply Requistiion Request) you acknowledge that this equipment is only to be used for Advanced Research, outside the scope of traditional Archive business and is only to be used when requested by entities known by the Archive as “Ghoulies”, as needed by the Head Archivist, code named “Archivist”, or by Director Mirahiru and Director's Director Mirahiru.

All liabilities are the responsibility of the Researcher using this software/equipment. The Archive, Chaos Foundries, The Chaos Gumi and the entirety of the Omegian Imperial Science Division are not responsible for any dismemberment, schizophrenic outbursts, spontaneous combustion, retcon-itis, 4th wall breaks, speaking of tongues, demonic possession, rips in the fabric of Terran or Omegian space and time, resurrection of a demon lord, or the return of any and all chaotic, manifestations of the unknowable Void.

These apparatuses are held tightly by The Archive and their respective parent companies for a reason, and are not to be used lightly unless used lightly by those with enormous death wishes, literally Yuki Mirahiru, or those who capitulate to said beings of chaos, namely Director Archknight Mirahiru.

Do you understand, mortal?

[Y/N/I'm Scared}: Y

sudo vim Data Fragment_2.txt

:

[-Data Fragment 02-]

[-Priority – Classified-]

[-SCOPE OF FRAGMENT-]: As requested by the Ghoulies, Director Mirahiru, Director's Director Yuki Mirahiru and the Archivist. This fragment is what was recoverable using a new piece of equipment within the ARESRR section of The Archive. The Archivist has left our team with the responsibility (read, liability) of a new device that will allow us to transcribe the “dates” of Director Archknight, and his wife for further research. However, this is merely a fragment due to the risk involved. Please observe below as we attempt to perform our first “Dream Print” here in the Archive.

//////////////begin transcription.

Director Mirahiru and his wife are fidgeting within the “Dream Chamber”, that the research intern had led them to. However, as was common with Director Mirahiru and her Majesty Yuki Mirahiru, they steeled themselves to be the subject of this project for the advancement of The Archive's capabilities, and because the Ghoulies had show interest.

“S-so, Yuki dear...do we know if this is safe?” The Director said finally, slicing the darkness as they did as instructed and laid together on the finely ornamented bed which was the sole source of refuge within this chamber. Yuki, the Director's wife and his muse of mischief seemed to falter a bit, but soon shrugged and pulled him into bed with her. “H̶e̵h̵e̷h̸e̶h̵,̷ ̵w̷e̶l̸l̸ ̶i̶t̶'̷s̷ ̸s̷o̴m̴e̶t̵h̷i̷n̶g̵ ̴f̴u̷n̴ ̵i̸s̵n̸'̴t̶ ̷i̷t̴ ̴D̸a̸r̷l̴i̷n̶g̸?̶ ̵P̸l̶u̵s̴,̴ ̷i̵t̶'̶l̵l̷ ̸b̸e̶ ̷c̷h̷a̴o̴t̴i̸c̵ ̴f̵o̵r̵ ̶p̷e̶o̵p̵l̴e̵ ̴t̶o̵ ̸s̵e̷e̴ ̴o̵u̵r̴ ̶l̴i̷t̴t̷l̶e̶ ̷d̵a̷t̵e̷s̶,̸ ̷e̷h̸?̶ ̴>̶;̷3̶”. The Director, as had come to be known within The Chaos Gumi and here at The Archive, easily relented when his wife pushed him to try things her way.

To his credit, the fact that he was able to resist dying on the spot when faced with the aura created by Yuki Mirahiru, his wife and a former reaper of souls, spoke to his ability to charm Lady Death.

Now though, it appears that they've resolved themselves and are now in bed together. A loud voice over the intercom, the raspy but assertive voice of The Head Archivist, rang out within the confines of their prepared chamber.

“Director, and Director's Director Mirahiru, this procedure is truly chaotic. However, chaos sleeps for no one. Knowing this, do you consent in allowing we here at The Archive and the Ghoulies who will read this report to have a play-by-play of this event?” The director and his wife nodded, not feeling the desire to let go of each other as they began to naturally nod off to sleep.

At this, the Archivist who stood beside me behind double-sided glass nodded excitedly. The Archivist themself is what Earthlings might call a, “Research Fanatic”.

It was part of why during the founding of the Chaos Gumi and the first formation of The Archive, Director's Director Yuki had presented Director Archknight with The Archivist's resume and he had been placed in charge of the The Archive, on the condition that he channel that research towards advancing Chaos and recording the events of The Mirahiru Family's story. And that's w- [Sequence Begun, subjects have entered REM Cycle Sleep] ////////////////////////////////////// [Synchronizing with subjects natural mental bridge.] ////////complete.

[Man-in-Middle Image Stabilization Complete]

[RENDER MODE- START!]

“W-where...?” I said, my eyes adjusting to the light as I found myself in Yuki and I's bedchambers. But....something seemed off. “H-honey? Did something happen during the test?” I called out in the dark, not sure where Yuki was. If we truly had gone to sleep together, then another thought began to manifest within my brain groggily. “Y-yuki, are we on a date right now?”

A giggle, which began as Yuki's normal adorably terrifying laugh began to seemingly come from all around me. “H̵e̶h̸e̸h̴e̵h̴e̸h̸e̴h̶e̷h̷e̶h̵h̵e̴h̵e̵h̶e̶h̵e̶h̶e̴h̷e̷h̵h̷e̷h̷e̴h̷,̵ ̸m̵y̸ ̸p̵e̸r̸c̶e̵p̴t̸i̵v̴e̶ ̸l̵i̵t̸t̸l̵e̵ ̵D̴a̶r̶l̵i̸n̶g̶ ̵F̴o̸x̸ ̸H̵u̵s̸b̸a̸n̶d̴.̶ ̴~̸<̶3̶” Yuki said sickly sweetly, as the walls around me began to shift and the airlock I had been staring at to see if and when she'd round the corner pushed forward to reveal bright lights.

Intense, bright lights shone through the widening gap behind the false walls and soon my eyes adjusted to see what chaos Yuki truly had planned for us tonight.

“見て！ ほら、ダーリン！〜ここはあなたを保つのにかわいい場所ではありませんか？” (Look! Look, Darling!~ Isn't this a cute place to keep you?) Yuki shouted, her voice much louder than usual. However, it confirmed one thing that I had hoped wasn't happening. “Y-yes dear, it's very cute. W...wait...is...is this a locket?” Yuki cackled once more, the movements of her nodding and jumping excitedly shaking the locket she'd been holding me in. “1̴0̴ ̵p̷o̶i̵n̶t̸s̸,̷ ̸D̴a̸r̴l̷i̵n̸g̵!̸~̵≮3̵ ̶S̶o̸ ̵s̸m̵a̶r̶t̸ ̶o̵n̸ ̷d̸a̴t̸e̶s̴,̷ ̸a̴n̸d̵ ̷s̴o̶ ̴d̶e̷l̶i̵c̷i̴o̴u̵s̶l̵y̴ ̸a̵f̷r̶a̷i̸d̸.̴ ̸~̵ ̷I̶ ̸l̴o̴v̶e̵ ̶y̶o̵u̵,̷ ̵D̸a̴r̴l̷i̵n̶g̸.̶ ̷” I shivered with fear at the sudden jostling and the extreme difference in size, but as I rationalized her choice in venue...that fear became good chaos. A wave of happiness and semi-chaotic love flowed over me.

“Hehe, I love you too Yuki, my dearest Muse of Mischief. So, what's on the agenda today?” I said, smiling now despite the fear of what was to come. Slowly, she lifted me from the locket, which as her uberly oversized hand reached in and pulled me out I realized that the room I'd been kept in sat on her bosom. Noticing my oogling, Yuki winked and threw me into the air. “WHAAA?!” I screamed unconciously, “A̸w̸w̸w̵,̶ ̷a̸r̷e̴ ̴y̷o̸u̷ ̴s̵c̵a̴r̵e̵d̴ ̴D̶a̴r̷l̶i̴n̶g̴?̸ ̷Y̷o̴u̶'̸v̵e̵ ̷g̶o̷t̶ ̴a̷ ̸f̴i̸f̷t̷y̷-̸f̵i̴f̶t̵y̷ ̷c̴h̸a̵n̴c̸e̴ ̸o̷f̴ ̴d̸y̴i̶n̷g̶,̶ ̴b̵u̵t̸ ̶I̴ ̴b̴e̴l̷i̴e̸v̶e̶ ̶i̶n̵ ̶y̷o̵u̴.̵ ̵>̴;̷3̵” Free-falling through the air, I began to struggle, attempting to readjust myself to the relative safety of Yuki's chest but....my heart sank.

In the split second before making contact with her chest, Yuki did the unthinkable. “Cheater!” I managed to get out, as Yuki ducked down and opened her maw widely before moving herself so that I was destined for a watery grave. Somehow hearing my thoughts as I slipped down her throat, she tilted her head. “D̷a̸r̶l̷i̸n̴g̶,̵ ̷t̸h̶a̴t̵'̷s̵ ̷c̷a̴l̸l̷e̴d̷ ̵b̴e̸i̸n̴g̵ ̷s̴u̸p̶e̶r̸n̵a̷t̸u̴r̸a̷l̴l̸y̸ ̶h̶y̶d̸r̵a̸t̶e̵d̵.̵” she said, slightly offended as we both shot awake.

“W-well, it didn't feel THAT bad.” Hearing me back to normal, Yuki smiled. “W̷a̸n̸n̶a̴ ̵g̶o̵ ̷a̵g̵a̶i̸n̴,̵ ̶D̶a̵r̴l̸i̶n̶g̷?̴ ̸>̵;̵3̵” I mused, as we exited the chamber to our actual bedchambers. “As long as you don't cheat again.” Yuki blushed as we were allowed to finish testing for tonight and we reached our room.

[-END OF TESTING-]

[-Fragment 02 completed-]

[-SUBJECT OF RESEARCH-]: The Director's Director, Lady Mirahiru and the story of her goings on prior to procuring Lord Mirahiru from without the confines of Earth.

[-SCOPE OF RESEARCH-] : To expound upon a matter of recent interest of The Director and of The Director's Director recent recollection. Prior to her ascendance as The Director's Muse of Chaos, and Queen of Darkness, she was but a reanimated soul given a task by an evil God (Kami) and one who was exceptionally adept at her toil. What terrors then, did she exact on those poor souls who fell within her domain? This report hopes to detail them for our dear readers.

[-NOTE FROM THE DESK OF THE DIRECTOR AND THE DIRECTOR'S DIRECTOR-]: H̴e̶h̷e̵h̸e̷h̵h̶e̷,̷ ̵w̶e̷'̵r̶e̸ ̷B̷A̸C̴K̸ ̶I̸N̵ ̵T̴H̶E̸ ̶A̶R̶C̵H̶I̷V̶E̵!̸~̷<̶3̴ ̶Y-yes, yes we are, my dear. As the last few entries seemed to be a bit too focused on m-A̸ ̷b̷i̸t̷ ̸t̸o̸o̸ ̸m̷u̵c̴h̸ ̵o̷f̵ ̵t̵h̸e̶ ̵s̵p̶a̵c̸e̴-̵y̴ ̸s̴t̸u̴f̶f̶,̶ ̶D̸a̷r̵l̷i̶n̶g̷.̸ ̶S̸o̸,̵ ̵I̸ ̷”̶c̴o̸n̷v̷i̵n̴c̵e̵d̵”̴ ̶D̵a̶r̴l̵i̴n̷g̷ ̸t̵o̶ ̶l̶e̸t̴ ̵u̶s̷ ̶t̴a̸l̸k̵ ̶a̶b̶o̵u̴t̸ ̵t̶h̸e̸ ̴F̴U̴N̵ ̷s̴t̶u̵f̸f̴ ̴w̶i̸t̸h̷ ̴t̶h̸e̷ ̵A̸r̵c̴h̶i̶v̴i̸s̶t̵.̶ Heh, yes..the “fun stuff” Yuki means are the stuff she did as a Reaper. Y̵U̴P̸!̵~̸ ̷A̶h̷,̵ ̷r̷i̶p̵p̵i̶n̵g̵ ̶t̸r̵a̵u̶m̵a̶ ̶o̵u̷t̶ ̵o̵f̶ ̸u̸n̵s̷u̸s̷p̷e̵c̶t̴i̷n̷g̸ ̴d̸a̷m̴n̸e̷d̸ ̴s̴o̷u̸l̶s̸ ̵a̸n̷d̵ ̷c̴r̷a̵f̴t̸i̸n̸g̸ ̵s̴o̷ ̵m̸a̵n̴y̴ ̴p̸u̸n̵i̵s̶h̶m̶e̴n̷t̴s̶.̴ ̴≯;̸3̷ Yuki begins to salivate and breath heavily ....A-anyway, as Yuki is VERY convincing we have decided to request the Archivist to detail from Yuki's memory, the day she ascended from Reaper to Queen of Chaos, Mischief and Despair. ~

[Editor's Note]: With that, dear readers...let us detail from Lady Mirahiru's Memory Extraction #0666.

[BEGINNING EXTRACTION FROM RECEPTACLE]////////////////////////////////////////////////////complete. [EQUALIZING CORRPUTION]////////////// ///////// /////////////////////// //////////////////////////////////// /////////////////////////////////// ////////////////////////////////////////// /////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////// //////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////// //////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////error. Error: Chaos cannot be contained. .....Proceed? [Y/Y]:Y

[-Entry 11 – Just how what are you?–]

K̸a̴m̷i̶-̵s̷a̴n̷ ̷w̸a̶s̷ ̴n̵o̶t̵ ̷a̶ ̴n̸i̸c̸e̵ ̵m̵a̷n̸.̷ ̶ ̶W̶e̶l̴l̷,̴ ̴t̴o̸ ̴b̴e̷ ̸f̸a̸i̴r̸ ̴K̷a̵m̵i̶-̴s̶a̴n̵ ̶w̸a̵s̸n̸'̵t̸ ̴a̵ ̵m̷a̴n̷.̸ ̸K̶a̶m̴i̶-̷s̴a̶n̵ ̵w̴a̵s̵ ̴m̶y̵ ̷b̵o̷s̶s̵,̴ ̶m̴y̴ ̶r̵e̸-̸a̸n̴i̴m̶a̷t̸o̷r̸.̸ ̴B̷u̷t̷ ̸w̸h̸o̵ ̷h̶e̶ ̵r̸e̶a̷l̸l̶y̷ ̷w̶a̸s̴,̶ ̴w̵a̷s̷ ̶a̵n̷ ̶e̷v̶i̵l̸ ̵G̸o̷d̶.̶ ̵ ̶ ̵ ̸”̸L̸i̷t̶t̷l̶e̶ ̷l̶o̷s̴t̸ ̷o̶n̸e̴,̶ ̴I̷ ̵w̷i̵l̴l̴ ̷r̶e̶s̸t̶o̸r̷e̷ ̷y̴o̵u̶r̶ ̸p̶a̶t̴c̷h̸w̸o̴r̴k̸ ̶s̴e̸l̵f̶ ̶i̴f̵ ̶y̶o̷u̵ ̶d̷o̸ ̶b̷u̴t̷ ̴o̴n̷e̷ ̷t̵h̴i̵n̷g̸ ̸f̷o̵r̸ ̴m̶e̶,̷”̴ ̶h̵e̴ ̸b̷e̸g̵a̵n̵ ̷a̴s̸ ̷h̸e̸ ̷w̵h̸i̴s̴p̶e̵r̵e̵d̴ ̵d̷a̵r̸k̵l̵y̸,̶ ̷a̵ ̸s̷i̴n̴i̶s̴t̵e̴r̸ ̶v̷o̶i̷c̶e̴ ̸c̶o̴a̵t̷e̸d̷ ̵i̴n̵ ̷t̶h̴e̴ ̷h̵o̶n̷e̴y̷e̶d̴ ̵b̴l̸o̷o̶d̷ ̶o̷f̸ ̷a̶ ̴m̷i̶l̸l̸i̷o̵n̷ ̷l̶o̷s̸t̴ ̶s̸o̴u̴l̸s̶.̴ ̷”̸I̷ ̸w̸a̵n̴t̵ ̸y̸o̵u̴,̸ ̷t̶o̵ ̶b̸r̸i̴n̴g̴ ̶m̵e̶ ̸t̴h̵e̶ ̸r̸e̴f̵o̶r̸m̶e̶d̵ ̴s̶o̴u̷l̸s̷ ̷o̴f̶ ̶t̴h̶e̷ ̸m̶o̴s̴t̸ ̶v̷i̴l̵e̸.̷ ̵Y̴o̶u̴r̴ ̵t̶a̷s̶k̷ ̸i̷s̵ ̶n̶o̸t̴ ̸e̶a̴s̴y̶,̸ ̸b̴u̶t̷ ̵i̸n̵ ̷e̷x̵c̵h̵a̸n̷g̸e̴ ̸I̵ ̷s̴h̴a̷l̸l̴ ̸g̸i̶v̵e̴ ̴y̶o̸u̶ ̵t̸h̷e̴ ̶p̸o̸w̶e̸r̷ ̸t̴o̷ ̴t̴r̶u̷l̴y̷ ̷w̵r̴e̵c̸k̷ ̷t̶h̵e̶i̴r̴ ̴v̴e̷r̴y̸ ̸b̴e̶i̴n̸g̸s̷.̷ ̶W̷i̴l̶l̸ ̶y̵o̵u̸ ̸d̵o̸ ̵i̵t̴,̵ ̶d̶e̸a̶r̶e̷s̸t̴ ̵d̴e̴p̵a̷r̸t̶e̶d̴ ̵K̴i̷t̷t̶e̶n̸?̷”̷ ̴H̴e̸r̶e̶ ̵h̷e̵ ̵m̸a̴d̵e̴ ̸s̸u̴r̴e̸ ̴t̴o̵ ̴a̶c̷c̴e̸n̷t̷u̸a̸t̷e̷ ̶h̴i̸s̶ ̴s̶i̴l̴e̴n̷t̸ ̵t̷a̸u̴n̸t̶ ̷o̶f̶ ̴t̸h̸e̴ ̷c̸o̴b̵b̵l̸e̷d̷ ̴p̸i̶e̷c̷e̴s̷ ̷o̴f̵ ̸w̸h̴a̵t̵ ̷w̸a̵s̴ ̸o̶n̴c̷e̶ ̶m̵y̸ ̴f̵o̷r̶m̸.̵ ̸I̷ ̵h̸a̷t̵e̷d̸ ̸i̸t̸,̴ ̴b̵u̷t̵ ̶w̵h̵a̵t̷ ̶c̴h̶o̴i̴c̵e̷ ̶d̵i̷d̷ ̵I̶ ̷h̴a̶v̵e̵?̵ ̵ ̸ ̶”̸.̵.̵.̴I̵t̶'̵s̸ ̶f̸u̸n̶n̸y̵,̴ ̵i̴t̵'̷s̴ ̵a̷l̸m̷o̴s̷t̴ ̸a̵s̸ ̸i̷f̶ ̸I̴ ̵h̸a̶v̴e̴ ̸c̶h̴o̵i̸c̴e̷.̴”̵ ̸I̸ ̶g̷a̷r̶b̶l̴e̵d̷,̵ ̷m̴y̶ ̸l̴i̵p̷s̴ ̸h̸a̸v̸i̵n̸g̷ ̸b̸e̸e̵n̸ ̵r̸i̵p̷p̶e̶d̶ ̴f̷r̷o̴m̵ ̷m̶y̸ ̴f̷a̸c̷e̶ ̵b̴u̸t̵ ̵m̵e̸r̶e̸ ̴m̵o̷m̵e̶n̴t̶s̴ ̵a̷g̸o̵.̴ ̶H̸e̷ ̶n̸o̴d̷d̸e̵d̶ ̸a̴t̴ ̶t̸h̶e̴ ̶s̵i̵g̸h̴t̴.̵ ̴T̴o̶ ̴h̵i̶m̴,̶ ̵i̶t̸ ̵m̴u̵s̷t̶ ̴h̶a̸v̷e̷ ̶b̷e̷e̵n̶ ̷h̷i̷l̴a̵r̴i̷o̶u̴s̷.̶ ̷A̷ ̴p̴r̴o̷u̶d̸ ̸w̷o̷m̷a̴n̵,̴ ̵a̴s̶ ̵I̷ ̷h̴a̸d̵ ̶b̷e̷e̴n̸,̷ ̵n̴o̷w̴ ̶f̴o̸r̵c̴e̵d̶ ̷t̶o̶ ̵o̷n̷l̵y̴ ̶s̴t̵a̴r̷e̴ ̶u̸p̴ ̴a̶t̵ ̸t̸h̸e̷ ̶d̶a̸r̶k̵ ̵h̸o̷o̷d̶e̵d̷ ̶v̷i̵s̷a̵g̶e̶ ̴o̶f̵ ̵a̵ ̷m̸a̵n̶ ̸a̵b̴o̶v̵e̶ ̵m̴e̵.̷ ̴”̶I̵'̶l̶l̴ ̵t̵a̴k̵e̴ ̸t̴h̴a̸t̸ ̸a̶s̵ ̷ ̴a̵ ̸'̷Y̴e̷s̷ ̵m̴i̸s̵t̵e̵r̴ ̵K̵a̵m̵i̸,̴ ̸I̵'̷l̸l̴ ̶b̶e̶ ̸a̴ ̸g̸o̴o̵d̵ ̷g̵i̸r̵l̶'̵,̶”̸ ̴h̶e̷ ̵r̴e̷p̶l̵i̷e̸d̷ ̸s̷n̶i̶d̵e̷l̸y̶,̶ ̴a̶n̵d̷ ̸c̵o̸n̸t̵i̴n̸u̴e̴d̴ ̷t̴o̸ ̵s̸p̴e̸a̴k̴ ̴a̶s̶ ̴h̵e̵ ̶r̷e̴a̴s̶s̴e̶m̴b̴l̶e̷d̶ ̶m̸y̷ ̵s̴h̶r̴e̴d̷d̶e̷d̴ ̷r̶e̴m̷a̶i̶n̷s̴.̷ ̸”̵N̵o̸w̷,̴ ̶m̴y̷ ̵p̶a̶t̴c̵h̸w̷o̸r̴k̶ ̵p̶r̵i̶n̵c̵e̶s̴s̷,̶ ̵r̸u̶d̴e̶ ̷a̸s̴ ̷y̸o̵u̶ ̴m̸a̵y̴ ̸b̵e̵ ̸-̸ ̷I̵ ̶w̴i̵l̷l̴ ̴o̶v̵e̵r̷l̶o̴o̸k̵ ̴i̷t̶ ̶f̴o̷r̵ ̶n̴o̴w̶.̷ ̶R̷i̸g̴h̷t̷ ̵n̴o̷w̶,̸ ̸I̸ ̸h̶a̸v̷e̵ ̷s̶o̴m̷e̸ ̸w̵o̴r̵k̶ ̴f̴o̸r̸ ̵a̵ ̷w̴r̴e̴t̷c̵h̶ ̴s̴u̶c̶h̵ ̵a̶s̸ ̴y̷o̶u̸.̵”̶ ̶h̷e̴ ̷s̸m̴i̶l̵e̷d̴,̶ ̵n̸o̴w̶ ̵a̴b̸l̵e̸ ̴t̸o̷ ̵s̸e̴e̴ ̵m̵e̶ ̵a̴t̴ ̶m̴y̴ ̴f̵u̸l̵l̴ ̷h̶e̴i̷g̴h̸t̴.̶ ̶ ̸ ̴”̶P̴r̴i̵n̶c̴e̵s̶s̷,̶ ̶h̷u̷h̸?̶”̸ ̵I̸ ̴s̷a̸i̶d̶,̶ ̴s̵o̶m̵e̷h̶o̶w̵ ̷s̵m̷i̸l̴i̷n̵g̶ ̸a̴s̵ ̸i̶f̵ ̸t̴o̵ ̴l̷a̵u̶g̷h̸ ̸a̶t̴ ̴t̵h̷e̸ ̶a̷b̷s̵u̵r̸d̸i̶t̸y̶ ̸o̶f̶ ̸t̵h̸i̷s̶ ̸n̵e̵w̸ ̴c̸o̵n̵t̶r̶a̵c̴t̵.̶ ̶H̵e̷r̴e̵,̴ ̴I̴ ̴t̶h̴o̵u̴g̴h̶t̵ ̸i̶n̵ ̷d̶e̸a̴t̷h̷ ̸I̷ ̴c̵o̷u̴l̸d̷ ̸f̶i̷n̶a̶l̵l̶y̶ ̷r̵e̴s̷t̵ ̵m̵y̸ ̶o̷b̷l̶i̴g̷a̴t̶i̴o̷n̸s̷ ̵a̸n̸d̸ ̵l̴e̴t̸ ̴l̸o̷o̸s̶e̷ ̶b̸u̸t̵ ̵h̸e̶r̷e̴ ̵I̶ ̵w̴a̷s̵.̸.̶.̷u̸n̴d̶e̵r̵ ̵a̵ ̵n̶e̶w̸ ̷m̵a̵n̶.̵ ̶T̷h̷o̵u̷g̵h̶,̸ ̴b̷e̴i̵n̷g̴ ̵o̶n̷e̵ ̵t̷r̷a̶i̸n̶e̸d̷ ̶i̶n̷ ̷c̸o̵m̸b̴a̶t̸,̸ ̴I̵ ̶k̸n̷e̶w̸ ̸a̸l̵l̴ ̶t̸o̵o̴ ̴w̵e̶l̴l̷ ̷I̷ ̸w̶o̴u̵l̷d̷ ̴b̷e̴ ̴u̷s̷e̷d̶ ̴a̶s̸ ̴a̸ ̸w̵e̸a̷p̸o̶n̸ ̸i̸n̴ ̵t̶h̸i̴s̵ ̴w̷o̷r̴l̶d̸ ̴a̸n̷d̷ ̶t̴h̶e̸ ̷n̴e̸x̷t̷.̴ ̷ ̷ ̷”̵Y̷e̶s̷,̸ ̷n̶o̴w̴ ̵b̴e̴f̸o̶r̵e̸ ̶y̸o̴u̸ ̶g̵e̸t̸ ̶a̵l̸l̸ ̸h̷i̸g̶h̴ ̶a̸n̷d̴ ̸m̷i̸g̵h̷t̶y̸ ̷l̴e̷t̸'̸s̸ ̸g̵e̵t̴ ̸y̵o̶u̵ ̶a̵ ̷w̸e̵a̵p̸o̵n̵.̶”̵ ̴A̵s̴ ̸h̸e̴ ̵f̴i̴n̷i̵s̴h̷e̶d̴ ̵t̵h̷i̵s̴ ̴s̴t̵a̷t̷e̴m̴e̵n̴t̶,̵ ̶i̵n̶ ̶t̴h̸e̷ ̸n̶e̴x̵t̶ ̷b̶r̶e̴a̸t̶h̵ ̸a̸ ̴l̷o̷n̷g̶,̷ ̵k̵a̷t̶a̴n̶a̷ ̵s̶h̸a̷p̵e̶d̸ ̶s̸h̷a̴d̸o̷w̸ ̴s̴e̶e̵m̴e̶d̸ ̶t̴o̴ ̵c̸u̴t̴ ̴t̸h̸r̶o̶u̶g̸h̵ ̴t̵i̶m̸e̶ ̴a̸n̴d̴ ̷s̴p̵a̷c̷e̸ ̴a̶n̶d̶ ̴a̸p̷p̸e̵a̶r̶e̶d̵ ̶i̵n̵ ̷h̶i̶s̷ ̶h̴a̸n̵d̴s̴.̵ ̸I̸ ̷k̴n̶e̴w̸ ̶t̴h̸e̵ ̶f̵o̷r̶m̸ ̵i̵m̶m̶e̶d̷i̵a̴t̷e̴l̸y̷,̷ ̸b̵u̵t̷ ̶s̸o̶m̸e̶h̸o̴w̷ ̵t̷h̴i̷s̸ ̸b̵l̵a̴d̸e̶ ̴s̵e̶e̸m̶e̴d̶ ̴d̶i̵f̴f̶e̸r̴e̷n̴t̶.̵ ̶T̸a̸k̵i̴n̴g̶ ̷i̸t̶ ̶i̸n̵ ̴m̶y̸ ̷h̵a̵n̵d̵s̸,̶ ̸I̸ ̸f̷o̶u̵n̸d̸ ̷m̶y̴s̸e̸l̵f̸ ̶u̸t̶t̷e̴r̸i̶n̶g̸ ̴a̴ ̷n̷e̵w̵ ̴w̸o̷r̷d̷ ̸i̴n̷ ̵r̴e̴s̵p̵o̶n̸s̴e̵.̵ ̷”̸C̴u̷r̵s̸e̸d̸?̶”̸ ̴I̵ ̸f̵i̷n̶a̴l̵l̷y̶ ̷s̶a̷i̷d̴,̶ ̷c̵u̸t̴t̵i̵n̷g̷ ̴i̵n̶ ̸t̵h̷e̶ ̵s̷i̷l̵e̸n̸c̷e̴ ̸t̴h̴e̷ ̵s̷a̸m̴e̴ ̸w̶a̸y̶ ̶t̶h̷i̸s̵ ̸s̵t̸u̸n̴n̶i̴n̷g̸l̷y̸ ̵o̴m̸i̶n̵o̶u̶s̵ ̴w̸e̴a̸p̸o̵n̸ ̴h̶a̸d̷ ̴c̴u̷t̵ ̴t̵h̴r̷o̵u̴g̶h̷ ̵e̴x̴i̵s̴t̵e̶n̸c̶e̶ ̷i̸t̵s̵e̴l̸f̴ ̶t̴o̶ ̴b̴e̶ ̵i̶n̴ ̸m̷y̶ ̵p̶o̴s̵s̵e̸s̴s̴i̷o̷n̴.̷ ̵”̴H̵m̷m̷,̸ ̵s̶o̶ ̷t̵h̶e̸ ̷h̶a̵u̴n̸t̴e̴d̶ ̸p̵r̵i̸n̸c̴e̸s̸s̵ ̷k̴n̸o̸w̵s̸ ̷h̸e̸r̸ ̶b̶l̴a̶d̵e̸s̶?̷ ̶Y̶e̶s̷,̵ ̷m̴y̵ ̸l̶i̵t̵t̶l̸e̵ ̷s̴l̶a̴v̵e̶.̵ ̵T̵h̸a̶t̶ ̶i̶s̷ ̶t̶h̷e̶ ̴C̸h̵a̸o̴s̸ ̷B̵l̷a̴d̴e̸,̴ ̶s̴a̸i̸d̷ ̴t̸o̶ ̶h̷a̸v̷e̷ ̵b̷e̶e̵n̸ ̸m̷a̸d̶e̷ ̵f̴r̴o̷m̷ ̵t̸h̶e̷ ̷b̴l̸o̶o̷d̵ ̵o̴f̵ ̵i̸t̷'̸s̵ ̵c̶r̶e̷a̴t̵o̸r̸'̵s̶ ̵e̸n̵e̶m̵i̸e̷s̶.̶ ̷ ̷T̸a̸k̶e̴ ̵c̷a̷r̶e̵ ̴t̸o̸ ̷r̷e̴a̵l̷i̴z̷e̴ ̵i̵t̸'̴s̷ ̴v̷a̸l̶u̵e̴,̵ ̶f̶o̸r̴ ̵i̴t̵ ̶i̷s̷ ̸t̵h̴e̷ ̵m̸o̷s̵t̴ ̸f̷i̴t̵t̶i̴n̸g̸ ̶t̸o̶ ̷t̷a̸k̴e̵ ̷o̵n̷ ̵t̸h̴e̵ ̸t̴y̵p̵e̸s̵ ̵o̴f̵ ̴p̶e̷o̷p̸l̸e̷ ̷I̸ ̷h̶a̷v̷e̷ ̵f̴o̷r̷ ̸y̸o̷u̵.̵ ̵A̶s̴ ̸I̷ ̷s̵a̷i̸d̵ ̶e̸a̶r̸l̶i̶e̴r̶,̷ ̷I̷ ̴h̸a̷v̷e̴ ̷a̶ ̶m̶i̸s̴s̵i̶o̷n̷ ̴f̷o̷r̵ ̷y̴o̵u̸.̵”̶ ̴ ̶ ̶I̶ ̸s̸t̸u̶d̶i̶e̶d̶ ̸t̶h̶e̷ ̵b̶l̸a̴d̴e̵ ̸i̴n̷ ̴m̶y̶ ̷h̴a̷n̵d̴s̵,̵ ̵f̶r̴o̸m̸ ̴t̴h̸e̴ ̷o̵r̶n̶a̸t̵e̶ ̴t̴i̵p̸ ̵t̶o̸ ̵t̸h̸e̵ ̶d̵a̶r̵k̶e̴n̵e̸d̷ ̶b̶l̵o̷o̶d̴ ̷t̷h̴a̴t̶ ̵s̸e̵e̶m̴e̴d̷ ̵t̵o̵ ̸w̴r̵i̵t̷h̵e̸ ̶w̵i̸t̵h̶i̶n̶ ̵t̸h̴e̷ ̶i̴n̷n̶e̸r̴ ̶c̷o̸r̴e̴ ̴o̴f̶ ̵t̷h̷e̵ ̶w̴e̵a̶p̸o̶n̵.̸ ̴T̷r̵u̸l̶y̷,̵ ̵a̵ ̸m̵a̴s̶t̴e̴r̶w̷o̷r̵k̸ ̶o̶f̵ ̷f̶i̶n̵e̸ ̵b̸l̷a̵d̶e̵s̵m̵i̸t̶h̴i̶n̶g̴.̶ ̴I̶ ̸a̶d̵m̵i̸r̴e̶d̷ ̷a̷n̸d̷ ̴f̸e̵a̷r̶e̵d̶ ̷t̷h̷e̵ ̸o̵n̵i̸ ̸w̵h̵o̴ ̷m̴a̶d̷e̸ ̴i̴t̷.̷ ̷ ̴ ̵”̶Y̷o̸u̶r̵ ̷f̵i̶r̴s̷t̵ ̸m̸i̴s̷s̸i̷o̴n̷.̶.̸.̵”̸ ̶h̸i̶s̶ ̸v̴o̷i̶c̷e̸ ̵t̶r̴a̵i̸l̴e̶d̶ ̶o̷f̷f̸,̵ ̴a̵n̴d̷ ̸t̴r̴u̸t̴h̸f̴u̵l̷l̵y̶?̶ ̵ ̷I̵ ̵d̴o̵n̵'̶t̵ ̵r̵e̴m̵e̸m̷b̸e̵r̵ ̶w̷h̸o̴ ̵m̷y̸ ̶f̴i̴r̶s̵t̷ ̷s̵u̴c̸k̵e̸r̶ ̴w̷a̵s̸.̷ ̵I̸ ̵d̸o̷ ̷r̸e̵m̵e̸m̷b̴e̴r̶ ̵I̷ ̶e̵n̸j̶o̸y̸e̷d̸ ̷i̶t̶,̵ ̵a̸n̴d̷ ̴t̶h̷e̴ ̵s̴e̷n̸s̴e̸ ̴o̴f̴ ̵t̶h̷r̶i̴l̷l̷ ̴f̴r̷o̶m̸ ̸s̴e̷e̸i̵n̶g̴ ̵h̴i̶m̶ ̵b̶e̶a̵r̷ ̴w̷i̶t̸n̷e̸s̷s̷ ̴t̷o̸ ̴h̶i̸s̴ ̵l̶i̸f̶e̸ ̸d̴r̸a̴i̷n̵ ̴f̷r̸o̷m̴ ̶h̵i̷s̴ ̴e̷y̴e̶s̴ ̷w̶a̷s̵ ̸i̵n̷t̴o̴x̵i̸c̴a̸t̴i̵n̵g̴.̵ ̷ ̴ ̴B̵u̸t̷ ̷t̷h̶a̷t̶ ̸s̵t̴o̵r̸y̶,̷ ̵i̷s̸ ̶n̸o̸t̸ ̸t̵h̷e̵ ̷o̶n̶e̸ ̸I̷'̸v̴e̷ ̵b̶e̴e̵n̶ ̶a̸s̵k̶e̵d̷ ̷t̴o̷ ̷t̸e̵l̵l̶ ̶y̴o̸u̵.̴ ̴M̶i̸n̵e̷ ̴f̶o̸r̴ ̶t̸o̸n̴i̷g̴h̶t̶,̷ ̷i̴s̸ ̴t̵h̷e̸ ̷s̶t̴o̸r̷y̴ ̷o̵f̸ ̷a̷ ̶D̸e̴a̴d̴ ̴E̶v̷i̴l̶ ̴K̶a̵m̷i̸.̸ ̶ ̸I̶ ̷c̷o̶n̷t̸i̵n̶u̴e̷d̸ ̷o̸n̵w̵a̴r̷d̸s̴,̵ ̴r̷e̸a̸p̶i̷n̶g̷ ̵s̷o̷u̷l̵s̸ ̴a̵n̷d̶ ̴t̸e̶a̵r̵i̵n̷g̴ ̶t̸h̶e̵i̴r̸ ̸l̵i̶v̸e̴s̸ ̸a̸w̶a̷y̵ ̶l̸i̴k̶e̴ ̴s̷o̴ ̸m̴a̶n̵y̶ ̵n̵a̵m̷e̴s̵ ̴o̴n̷ ̶a̸ ̷l̷i̵s̴t̴.̸ ̴E̴v̵e̷n̵t̵u̸a̸l̵l̶y̶,̴ ̷I̴ ̷g̷r̴e̵w̴ ̸s̴t̴r̶o̷n̷g̴e̴r̸ ̶u̵n̴t̸i̸l̵ ̷f̴i̶n̴a̷l̵l̵y̷ ̶I̶ ̸w̴a̶s̵ ̴r̸e̴c̴o̸g̷n̵i̷z̵e̷d̵ ̷a̵n̶d̷ ̷t̵o̷l̸d̵ ̴w̸h̴a̷t̶ ̸h̷a̶d̶ ̸r̷e̸a̸l̴l̸y̶ ̴h̴a̴p̷p̶e̵n̴e̸d̵.̸ ̸T̴h̵i̸s̵ ̵K̶a̵m̸i̶,̴ ̵w̸a̵s̸ ̵m̸y̸ ̷f̷a̷t̴h̸e̷r̶'̵s̷ ̶k̸i̵l̴l̶e̸r̷.̷ ̵ ̷ ̶A̸t̶ ̸t̶h̵i̶s̵,̸ ̷I̴ ̶s̵e̴e̸t̷h̷e̸d̶ ̴w̶i̵t̴h̵ ̴a̸n̶g̶e̷r̴.̵ ̵I̴n̶ ̸t̶h̷a̶t̴ ̵f̶i̶r̶s̶t̸ ̵m̷o̴m̴e̴n̸t̵ ̸o̴f̵ ̶r̵e̶a̵l̵ ̵e̴m̵o̸t̷i̸o̸n̴,̸ ̸m̵y̷ ̵o̷w̴n̵e̷r̶.̵.̴.̸m̵y̵ ̸b̶o̵s̶s̴,̵ ̴s̸m̵i̵l̸e̸d̶.̶ ̴ ̵”̷E̶H̴E̶H̸E̶H̷E̵H̸E̸H̸H̵E̶H̴E̵H̴E̵H̶E̴H̷E̷H̴E̷H̸H̶E̸H̶E̷H̶E̸H̵E̴H̵E̶H̴E̶H̴H̸E̶H̸E̷H̵E̴H̶E̶H̵H̷E̴H̷E̸H̴E̴H̸E̵H̴H̴E̸H̸E̷H̶E̸H̵E̴H̷E̷H̷H̶E̵H̶E̵H̶E̴H̷H̶E̸H̴E̸H̷E̴H̶H̸E̶H̴E̵H̶H̴E̵H̸E̶H̷E̵H̷H̷E̴H̷E̶H̴E̴H̴H̷E̷H̵E̴H̶E̸H̴E̵H̷H̶E̴H̷E̴H̴E̸H̶E̴H̸H̶E̸H̸E̶H̷E̵H̷E̸H̷E̷H̴”̴ ̵h̴e̷ ̷c̵h̵o̶r̴t̷l̵e̷d̶,̴ ̵r̸e̷a̴d̴y̸i̷n̶g̷ ̸h̶i̷s̵ ̴w̸e̶a̶p̵o̴n̵.̸ ̶”̸A̴r̶e̵ ̵y̸o̸u̸ ̶r̸e̴a̷l̸l̵y̶ ̴s̶o̶ ̷s̸t̷u̵p̸i̴d̶ ̷a̷s̵ ̵t̷o̸ ̶n̸o̷t̴ ̸h̵a̵v̶e̵ ̸s̵u̷s̷p̶e̸c̵t̷e̴d̶ ̶m̷e̵,̵ ̵M̸i̷r̸a̶h̴i̸r̴u̶-̶c̷h̶a̶n̴?̸ ̶W̴h̶y̸ ̴e̵l̴s̷e̶ ̶w̴o̴u̷l̶d̴ ̶I̸ ̷w̸a̵n̴t̵ ̵a̶ ̸u̵s̶e̶d̵ ̶u̴p̸ ̸w̸h̶o̸r̶e̶ ̴l̶i̶k̶e̵ ̷y̷o̷u̸?̶ ̵Y̷e̶s̴,̵ ̴y̶o̷u̸ ̷k̴i̸l̷l̸e̴d̴ ̸v̴i̵l̸e̵ ̷p̸e̴o̶p̶l̷e̶,̴ ̴b̶u̴t̸ ̶t̸h̸e̷y̸ ̵w̷e̵r̸e̸ ̷o̴n̵ ̸m̶y̶ ̴s̷h̶i̷t̶-̶l̸i̷s̶t̴ ̸a̴n̸y̷w̵a̸y̵.̸”̸ ̷H̷e̷ ̴s̸p̸a̸t̵ ̶a̶t̸ ̶m̸e̵,̵ ̷n̷o̷t̵ ̶e̵x̷p̷e̶c̸t̸i̴n̶g̷ ̷m̴e̵ ̷t̵o̶ ̶d̴o̶ ̶w̸h̵a̷t̸ ̴I̵ ̶d̵i̸d̵ ̶n̷e̸x̵t̶.̷ ̷ ̵ ̸A̵f̴t̸e̸r̵ ̴t̸h̷e̵ ̴f̷e̸w̶ ̶y̷e̷a̴r̶s̸ ̷t̸h̸a̴t̵ ̵I̶'̸d̵ ̴s̷p̷e̷n̴t̴ ̴w̵o̶r̶k̴i̴n̶g̸ ̶u̴n̶d̸e̶r̴ ̶h̸i̴m̷,̴ ̴I̵'̸d̵ ̷l̶e̴a̶r̷n̵e̵d̸ ̴a̷ ̸f̶e̵w̶ ̶t̵h̷i̶n̸g̵s̵.̵ ̵ ̷”̷W̸-̷w̸h̴a̴t̶.̵.̸?̵”̸ ̸h̴e̶ ̸s̷a̵i̴d̴ ̵a̵s̸ ̶a̵ ̴t̴h̸i̴n̷ ̸v̴e̵i̷l̵ ̴o̵f̵ ̷w̷h̶i̵t̸e̴ ̵s̴u̷d̶d̴e̵n̴l̸y̶ ̷o̵v̷e̷r̷c̴a̶m̸e̸ ̴h̵i̴s̴ ̷v̴i̵s̷i̸o̷n̵ ̶a̴n̴d̸ ̵h̴e̵ ̶f̷e̷l̵l̵ ̴t̶o̶ ̴t̶h̴e̷ ̴g̵r̶o̷u̵n̶d̵.̷ ̸H̶e̴ ̶w̶a̴s̶ ̵t̷r̴a̸p̶p̸e̷d̶.̷ ̷I̸'̶d̷ ̸p̵l̸a̷c̵e̴d̵ ̴h̷i̸m̴ ̶i̸n̶ ̸t̷h̵a̶t̸ ̶m̶o̴s̸t̷ ̵f̴r̷i̵g̷h̷t̷f̷u̸l̷ ̷o̴f̴ ̵p̸r̶i̴s̵o̶n̷s̴.̵.̵.̴h̸i̴s̸ ̴m̷i̵n̶d̷.̵ ̷ ̷ ̸E̵v̷e̷r̶y̴o̶n̵e̷ ̵w̵a̵n̶t̵s̴ ̸t̴o̶ ̵r̵u̸n̵ ̷f̸r̸o̸m̶ ̶i̵t̴,̷ ̶e̴s̸p̸e̸c̴i̵a̴l̸l̸y̷ ̷i̵n̶ ̸m̶o̴m̶e̶n̶t̶s̷ ̴w̸h̵e̴r̶e̴ ̸t̶h̶e̷y̸ ̴f̷e̸e̶l̶ ̸l̷i̶k̵e̷ ̷t̷h̴e̵y̷ ̸d̸o̵n̴'̴t̷ ̷d̵e̸s̷e̶r̴v̴e̸ ̵w̷h̷a̷t̵ ̴t̴h̵e̷y̷ ̸h̸a̷v̷e̸ ̵c̵o̶m̶i̶n̵g̶.̶.̷.̶a̷n̸d̴ ̴i̸n̴ ̵t̷h̷i̴s̶ ̷m̴o̷m̷e̵n̴t̵,̸ ̵K̴a̷m̷i̶-̵s̸a̴n̵ ̶d̵i̴d̵ ̵n̴o̸t̷ ̷e̷x̴p̶e̶c̵t̸ ̶t̴h̷a̴t̷ ̴h̵e̷ ̶w̶o̶u̷l̴d̶ ̶b̷e̸ ̵m̴y̵ ̴f̶i̵n̴a̸l̷ ̵n̴a̵m̸e̵.̵ ̴ ̷ ̶”̴W̶-̷w̴h̸e̴r̸e̸ ̸a̸m̶ ̷I̵,̸ ̸y̷o̵u̷ ̴d̵e̶s̸p̷i̸c̶a̸b̴l̵e̵ ̷w̶e̷n̴c̵h̸?̵!̸”̸ ̸h̴e̷ ̶s̷c̷r̵e̵a̴m̸e̵d̴,̵ ̴h̴i̸s̴ ̷v̸o̶c̷a̶l̸ ̵c̴o̵r̷d̶s̶ ̷m̸e̴l̸t̸i̴n̸g̴ ̸a̷s̵ ̷I̵ ̴p̸u̵t̴ ̵t̵h̶e̴m̴ ̷t̶o̷ ̶t̴h̵e̷ ̷f̴l̶a̷m̵e̶.̷ ̴H̸e̵ ̵s̶c̷r̷e̴a̸m̸e̷d̵,̴ ̶s̷h̷o̴u̵t̵i̸n̵g̴ ̶f̸o̸r̶ ̸a̸ ̵h̴o̴p̸e̷ ̶t̴h̴a̷t̸ ̸w̸o̶u̴l̶d̷ ̵n̶o̷t̶ ̷b̷e̶ ̵c̵o̸m̸i̵n̸g̴ ̵a̸s̶ ̶I̴ ̷s̸l̷i̶c̵e̵d̶ ̷t̶h̷r̷o̴u̷g̵h̶ ̶h̵i̷s̸ ̵a̸b̵d̶o̶m̸e̵n̸ ̴a̶n̴d̸ ̷p̵l̷u̷c̵k̵e̸d̶ ̴h̷i̶s̵ ̴o̵r̵g̸a̶n̸s̷ ̴a̸n̶d̷ ̵s̷h̷o̸w̵e̶d̴ ̵t̶h̵e̶m̶ ̶t̶o̵ ̸h̴i̷m̶.̶ ̴”̷H̶m̵m̴,̶ ̵s̷o̸ ̷e̶v̴e̸n̸ ̸G̸o̵d̵s̴ ̶h̶a̶v̶e̵ ̷i̵n̶n̸a̷r̶d̶s̶?̷ ̵I̴n̶t̷e̸r̴e̷s̷t̵i̸n̴g̶.̶”̵ ̴I̵ ̵s̴m̵i̶r̸k̴e̵d̶,̵ ̵l̵i̸c̸k̶i̵n̵g̷ ̸h̵i̶s̵ ̵i̵n̸t̸e̵s̴t̵i̸n̷e̸s̸ ̴a̶n̸d̴ ̵m̸e̴o̸w̶i̵n̶g̵ ̵m̴o̶c̶k̸i̷n̴g̵l̴y̴.̵ ̸”̵F̷U̶C̵K̸ ̴Y̴O̴U̷!̶”̸ ̵h̴e̵ ̷t̵r̵i̴e̸d̵ ̶t̸o̷ ̸s̴c̶r̵e̶a̶m̴ ̸w̶i̴t̶h̴ ̷w̴h̴a̴t̶ ̸r̴e̸m̴a̶i̵n̷e̵d̷ ̷o̶f̴ ̴h̶i̸s̴ ̵v̷o̵i̵c̸e̷.̸ ̶T̸r̸u̴t̴h̷f̶u̸l̵l̸y̷,̴ ̷t̸h̷e̶ ̸r̷e̸a̸s̴o̶n̴ ̷K̴a̴m̶i̵-̴s̴a̸n̷ ̵c̷o̶u̴l̵d̷ ̴s̴p̸e̸a̶k̵ ̵i̴s̷ ̵t̷h̵a̸t̶ ̴w̵e̷ ̴w̶e̵r̷e̵ ̶s̴i̶m̴p̸l̷y̸ ̷i̸n̶ ̸h̸i̷s̴ ̴m̶i̷n̵d̵.̴ ̸P̸e̵o̶p̷l̶e̸ ̷a̶r̸e̵ ̴s̸c̶a̴r̵i̷e̸s̷t̴ ̶w̵h̴e̴n̷ ̶e̸x̶p̴o̸s̶e̷d̴ ̴t̵o̶ ̶t̷h̴e̸i̵r̵ ̷t̶r̵u̴e̴ ̸s̸e̸l̶v̷e̷s̸.̶ ̴ ̷ ̶”̸S̶o̸,̴ ̷I̸ ̴r̸e̴g̷r̸e̸t̸ ̴t̶o̵ ̸i̵n̵f̵o̷r̴m̶ ̴y̴o̴u̷ ̴t̸h̴a̶t̴ ̴I̵'̵m̸ ̶n̸o̶t̵ ̵i̵n̵t̵o̶ ̵d̷e̵a̵d̵ ̸m̸e̵n̸.̸ ̸S̵o̴ ̴n̴o̵,̸ ̶y̶o̴u̸ ̵w̸i̵l̸l̷ ̵n̷o̶t̵ ̸b̶e̷ ̷f̷u̴c̸k̵i̴n̶g̵ ̶m̴e̶.̵ ̸F̸u̸r̴t̶h̶e̵r̸,̵ ̸K̴a̴m̵i̷-̸t̶a̷n̵.̷.̴.̴y̸o̷u̵ ̴c̸h̷o̶s̸e̸ ̷t̶h̷e̷ ̷w̶r̶o̷n̸g̸ ̷g̴i̵r̶l̸ ̵t̷o̸ ̸f̶u̴c̶k̸ ̸w̶i̵t̵h̶.̷”̶ ̵I̷ ̵s̷a̷i̸d̶,̷ ̸s̵m̷i̶l̸i̷n̴g̷ ̵i̸n̸ ̶a̸ ̵c̵r̸a̵z̶e̶d̶ ̷m̸a̵n̴n̶e̵r̸.̸ ̶I̵ ̷h̸a̴d̶ ̵f̶i̷n̸a̸l̵l̸y̶ ̶d̷o̷n̸e̷ ̶i̵t̸,̴ ̴a̸f̷t̶e̶r̵ ̶b̵e̵i̸n̷g̷ ̸f̴o̴r̵c̴e̸d̴ ̸t̸o̵ ̵b̴r̴i̶n̷g̸ ̸d̸o̴w̶n̸ ̸t̵e̴r̵r̶i̸b̴l̴e̵ ̶m̶e̴n̴ ̴a̸n̴d̸ ̷r̴e̴a̷p̶i̵n̸g̶ ̴t̶h̵e̷i̸r̵ ̶s̸o̷u̶l̵s̴ ̷I̸ ̷h̷a̷d̶ ̵r̵e̶v̸e̸n̶g̴e̸.̸ ̴I̵ ̵h̸a̵d̶ ̴m̶y̵ ̸w̶i̸l̷l̶ ̶b̸a̵c̴k̷.̶ ̷”̵L̴I̴S̴T̴E̶N̴ ̴T̸O̸ ̴Y̷O̴U̷R̸ ̴M̸A̷S̶T̸E̵R̸,̵ ̵Y̷O̴U̶ ̵F̴U̵C̵K̵I̷N̵G̷ ̷I̷N̴G̴R̷A̶-̵”̷ ̵H̴e̷ ̶b̵e̴g̶a̵n̸ ̴t̵o̸ ̵r̴e̷t̶o̶r̴t̷,̶ ̴a̸s̴ ̸I̴ ̷h̴a̵d̶ ̵m̵y̷ ̴f̴i̸l̴l̸ ̸o̸f̷ ̶h̴i̷s̴ ̴b̸u̷l̵l̶s̵h̶i̴t̸.̴ ̶”̷.̶.̶.̷.̶C̴a̶n̵ ̵y̶o̷u̴ ̶r̵e̵a̸l̴l̶y̶ ̷c̸a̴l̴l̵ ̷y̸o̶u̷r̷s̸e̶l̷f̴ ̶a̴ ̴M̴a̸s̴t̶e̶r̶ ̶i̸f̴ ̴y̵o̷u̵'̶r̶e̵ ̴a̴l̷r̴e̷a̸d̴y̶ ̷i̶n̷ ̷p̸i̴e̵c̶e̵s̶?̶”̶ ̷I̴ ̸s̵a̸i̵d̸,̶ ̷s̸m̸i̵l̶i̵n̴g̷ ̶a̸n̴d̸ ̴l̸i̶c̶k̷i̸n̶g̸ ̶t̴h̷e̷ ̵b̷o̷t̸t̷o̵m̴ ̸h̸a̵l̸f̵ ̷o̸f̶ ̵h̴i̷s̴ ̴b̸o̵d̷y̷,̷ ̴l̷i̸f̵t̸i̴n̵g̷ ̶i̸t̴ ̴u̵p̸ ̵t̵o̸ ̷t̶o̵p̸ ̶h̸a̸l̴f̶,̷ ̴c̸a̸c̸k̸l̶i̸n̵g̷.̶ ̸”̸W̸-̴w̶h̵a̵t̸.̶.̴.̶w̴-̸w̵h̶o̶ ̷a̵r̷e̵ ̷y̶o̴u̶?̸”̸ ̶H̷e̵ ̷s̷a̴i̷d̵,̴ ̵h̸i̵s̶ ̶s̸a̷n̴i̶t̷y̴ ̶b̷r̶e̴a̴k̶i̷n̵g̶ ̶a̴s̶ ̸I̶ ̵l̸e̸t̶ ̷g̶o̸ ̸o̸f̶ ̸t̷h̷e̴ ̸h̶o̸l̵d̵ ̵I̷ ̸h̷a̵d̶ ̵o̵n̴ ̸h̸i̸s̴ ̸s̶k̶u̵l̸l̷ ̶w̴i̷t̵h̶i̸n̸ ̴t̶h̸e̴ ̵w̷o̴r̷l̷d̴ ̶o̵f̷ ̷S̵o̷u̷l̷s̸,̴ ̸o̷u̴r̶ ̴w̸o̵r̸l̷d̵.̴ ̷ ̷ ̵H̵i̷s̶ ̶w̴i̶l̸l̸ ̸b̶r̸o̶k̸e̸n̶,̸ ̷a̶n̷d̶ ̴h̷i̴s̴ ̶s̴o̴u̴l̷ ̶b̶e̶g̶i̶n̸n̵i̵n̵g̶ ̵t̵o̴ ̵d̸e̵t̶a̴c̴h̴,̸ ̴I̷ ̴g̷r̶a̴s̷p̴e̶d̴ ̴f̴i̶r̸m̷l̶y̷ ̴u̸p̴o̴n̴ ̴t̶h̷e̶ ̸s̶t̶r̴i̷n̷g̶ ̸o̷n̴e̸ ̷w̴o̵u̴l̵d̶ ̷c̴a̸l̸l̶ ̷t̸h̸e̴ ̵s̷o̸u̸l̵ ̶a̸n̷d̸ ̶p̶u̷l̵l̷e̸d̸.̷ ̴H̵e̴ ̴w̵a̷s̶ ̴d̷e̶a̵d̶ ̸t̴o̸ ̴r̵i̸t̴e̷s̷.̷ ̷I̶t̸ ̶h̵a̴d̷ ̴b̶e̸e̸n̸ ̸e̶a̵s̴y̵,̴ ̴a̵l̶m̴o̶s̶t̷ ̵c̶h̵i̷l̶d̵'̷s̵ ̸p̵l̴a̵y̴.̷ ̷H̸o̵w̵e̷v̷e̴r̵,̵ ̵t̶h̶e̸ ̸s̶t̵r̷i̴n̸g̷ ̶b̵u̸r̷n̸e̶d̸ ̴m̸y̷ ̸h̷a̸n̴d̸ ̴a̴n̴d̶ ̷u̸p̷o̷n̸ ̴t̴h̵e̴ ̵a̵i̵r̶ ̷I̵ ̴h̷e̴a̶r̷d̸ ̶h̸i̸s̷ ̷l̴a̶s̶t̵ ̵c̵u̷r̶s̴e̵.̵ ̶”̶Y̷o̵U̶ ̵s̴H̵a̷L̶l̸ ̵n̴e̷v̴e̵r̷ ̷r̸e̸s̶t̶,̵ ̸y̶o̸u̷ ̴w̴h̴o̷r̷e̸.̸ ̴I̷ ̷d̵e̸e̷m̷ ̵t̵h̵e̸e̷ ̶m̵y̴ ̴s̴u̴c̴c̸e̷s̸s̷o̸r̵,̸ ̶T̵h̶e̸ ̵Q̶u̵e̸e̴n̶ ̷o̸f̴ ̶t̶h̷e̴ ̴L̶a̴n̵d̷ ̷o̸f̶ ̸S̶o̷u̶l̵s̷.̶ ̷B̴e̴ ̸y̵o̶u̵ ̴c̴u̶r̸s̸e̵d̷ ̶t̷o̸ ̴b̴e̸ ̷a̸l̷o̷n̸e̷ ̸a̵n̶d̶ ̴h̴a̷v̴e̴ ̶n̵o̸ ̴l̷o̴v̸e̷ ̵i̷n̵ ̶t̴h̵i̷s̴ ̴w̷o̸r̸l̶d̵.̶”̷ ̷I̶ ̸s̸p̶a̶t̴ ̴o̵n̷ ̵h̸i̷s̶ ̸d̷i̵s̵s̷o̵l̵v̵i̵n̶g̴ ̷c̴o̷r̸p̷s̶e̷ ̵a̶n̸d̵ ̴s̴t̷o̸o̴d̶ ̵u̵p̷.̵ ̸”̷Q̶u̷e̴e̴n̴ ̵o̵f̴ ̵C̸h̴a̷o̵s̷,̶ ̴h̴u̶h̸?̶ ̷I̶ ̵c̷o̷u̸l̴d̶ ̵g̸e̷t̵ ̴u̷s̵e̵d̵ ̸t̴o̶ ̵t̷-̸”̶ ̴s̸u̴d̴d̴e̸n̸l̸y̷,̶ ̸I̶ ̵h̶e̵a̷r̴d̵ ̷a̷ ̴c̷r̸y̶.̴ ̶A̸n̷ ̸i̵n̸n̸e̷r̴ ̶h̵e̷a̷r̶d̴ ̵a̵c̴r̵o̷s̶s̶ ̴t̸h̴e̴ ̴v̷a̸l̶e̴,̴ ̴”̶O̶h̵ ̴w̵h̵a̸t̶e̶v̷e̶r̸ ̵g̷o̸d̶ ̸t̷h̶e̵r̶e̷ ̴i̷s̵ ̶i̷n̶ ̶t̸h̴i̷s̷ ̸f̴u̶c̷k̴i̴n̵g̴ ̵u̴n̶i̶v̸e̸r̴s̶e̶,̷ ̷c̵o̶m̵e̸ ̸t̷o̷ ̷m̸e̶.̷”̷ ̸I̷t̵ ̴w̷a̶s̸ ̷m̶a̸s̵c̵u̷l̵i̵n̵e̵,̷ ̸b̶u̸t̸ ̵h̶a̶d̸ ̵t̸i̴n̵g̵e̷s̵ ̶o̷f̶ ̴a̷n̶ ̵i̵n̷n̸e̵r̴ ̷f̸r̷a̸g̴i̸l̴i̶t̴y̸.̶ ̸”̷H̸m̴m̴,̷ ̷I̵'̸l̷l̴ ̴n̷o̷t̵ ̵s̵e̵r̵v̵e̶ ̶a̷n̴o̵t̵h̶e̸r̸ ̸m̷a̷-̴”̸ ̶”̶I̷'̵l̸l̶ ̴s̸e̸r̴v̷e̷ ̴t̶h̶a̸t̷ ̷g̷o̴d̸ ̶f̴o̶r̴ ̴a̴s̵ ̴l̵o̶n̵g̸ ̷a̷s̴ ̶I̵ ̷c̴o̸n̷t̶i̷n̶u̵e̸ ̵t̴o̶ ̷d̵r̷a̶w̴ ̴b̸r̸e̷a̵t̷h̴,̴ ̸j̴u̵s̵t̸ ̶p̵l̸e̶a̸s̴e̷ ̸h̶e̵l̷p̷ ̶m̶e̵.̸”̷ ̷I̴ ̶g̶r̸i̷n̷n̵e̶d̴ ̸a̴t̷ ̸t̴h̷i̸s̵.̸ ̴I̵ ̶h̴a̶d̶ ̵b̸r̷o̴k̶e̴n̵ ̸K̸a̸m̷i̴'̶s̶ ̷C̵u̷r̷s̴e̵.̵ ̷I̷'̴d̷ ̸f̶o̶u̵n̷d̵ ̵t̵h̸e̶ ̶o̸n̴e̵ ̶t̸h̵i̶n̴g̷ ̷I̵ ̷l̷o̷v̸e̴d̶ ̴m̶o̴r̸e̵ ̶t̷h̵a̵n̶ ̸a̴n̶y̵t̵h̵i̶n̴g̶ ̷i̷n̷ ̵t̴h̸i̶s̷ ̶p̷a̴i̷n̵f̷u̴l̵ ̸l̵i̴f̵e̴ ̵-̶ ̷a̵ ̴b̵o̴y̸ ̷w̷h̶o̵ ̸n̷e̶e̴d̴s̶ ̶t̷o̸ ̵c̷r̸y̴.̸ ̸ ̵ ̷T̸h̵e̴ ̷r̶e̵s̶t̸.̸.̸.̸a̸s̶ ̷t̶h̴e̷y̶ ̴s̸a̷y̶,̶ ̶i̵s̵ ̶h̵i̷s̶t̶o̶r̶y̵.̸ ̴I̷ ̷h̵a̶d̸ ̷f̵o̵u̵n̸d̸ ̷m̶y̴ ̸n̷e̶w̷ ̵s̵l̵a̵v̴e̶,̷ ̶m̴y̷.̵.̷.̷D̴a̸r̶l̴i̷n̴g̶.̴ ̸~̷<̵3̶

[Corruption mitigated, producing Secondary Copy]///////////complete

Kami-san was not a nice man.

Well, to be fair Kami-san wasn't a man. Kami-san was my boss, my re-animator. But who he really was, was an evil God.

“Little lost one, I will restore your patchwork self if you do but one thing for me,” he began as he whispered darkly, a sinister voice coated in the honeyed blood of a million lost souls. “I want you, to bring me the reformed souls of the most vile. Your task is not easy, but in exchange I shall give you the power to truly wreck their very beings. Will you do it, dearest departed Kitten?” Here he made sure to accentuate his silent taunt of the cobbled pieces of what was once my form. I hated it, but what choice did I have?

”...It's funny, it's almost as if I have choice.” I garbled, my lips having been ripped from my face but mere moments ago. He nodded at the sight. To him, it must have been hilarious. A proud woman, as I had been, now forced to only stare up at the dark hooded visage of a man above me. “I'll take that as a 'Yes mister Kami, I'll be a good girl',” he replied snidely, and continued to speak as he reassembled my shredded remains. “Now, my patchwork princess, rude as you may be – I will overlook it for now. Right now, I have some work for a wretch such as you.” he smiled, now able to see me at my full height.

“Princess, huh?” I said, somehow smiling as if to laugh at the absurdity of this new contract. Here, I thought in death I could finally rest my obligations and let loose but here I was...under a new man. Though, being one trained in combat, I knew all too well I would be used as a weapon in this world and the next.

“Yes, now before you get all high and mighty let's get you a weapon.” As he finished this statement, in the next breath a long, katana shaped shadow seemed to cut through time and space and appeared in his hands. I knew the form immediately, but somehow this blade seemed different. Taking it in my hands, I found myself uttering a new word in response. “Cursed?” I finally said, cutting in the silence the same way this stunningly ominous weapon had cut through existence itself to be in my possession. “Hmm, so the haunted princess knows her blades? Yes, my little slave. That is the Chaos Blade, said to have been made from the blood of it's creator's enemies. Take care to realize it's value, for it is the most fitting to take on the types of people I have for you. As I said earlier, I have a mission for you.”

I studied the blade in my hands, from the ornate tip to the darkened blood that seemed to writhe within the inner core of the weapon. Truly, a masterwork of fine bladesmithing. I admired and feared the oni who made it.

“Your first mission...” his voice trailed off, and truthfully? I don't remember who my first sucker was. I do remember I enjoyed it, and the sense of thrill from seeing him bear witness to his life drain from his eyes was intoxicating.

But that story, is not the one I've been asked to tell you. Mine for tonight, is the story of a Dead Evil Kami.

I continued onwards, reaping souls and tearing their lives away like so many names on a list. Eventually, I grew stronger until finally I was recognized and told what had really happened. This Kami, was my father's killer.

At this, I seethed with anger. In that first moment of real emotion, my owner...my boss, smiled. “EHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHHEHEHEHHEHEHHEHEHEHHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHEH” he chortled, readying his weapon. “Are you really so stupid as to not have suspected me, Mirahiru-chan? Why else would I want a used up whore like you? Yes, you killed vile people, but they were on my shit-list anyway.” He spat at me, not expecting me to do what I did next.

After the few years that I'd spent working under him, I'd learned a few things. “W-what..?” he said as a thin veil of white suddenly overcame his vision and he fell to the ground. He was trapped. I'd placed him in that most frightful of prisons...his mind.

Everyone wants to run from it, especially in moments where they feel like they don't deserve what they have coming...and in this moment, Kami-san did not expect that he would be my final name.

“W-where am I, you despicable wench?!” he screamed, his vocal cords melting as I put them to the flame. He screamed, shouting for a hope that would not be coming as I sliced through his abdomen and plucked his organs and showed them to him. “Hmm, so even Gods have innards? Interesting.” I smirked, licking his intestines and meowing mockingly. “FUCK YOU!” he tried to scream with what remained of his voice. Truthfully, the reason Kami-san could speak is that we were simply in his mind. People are scariest when exposed to their true selves.

“So, I regret to inform you that I'm not into dead men. So no, you will not be fucking me. Further, Kami-tan...you chose the wrong girl to fuck with.” I said, smiling in a crazed manner. I had finally done it, after being forced to bring down terrible men and reaping their souls I had revenge. I had my will back. “LISTEN TO YOUR MASTER, YOU FUCKING INGRA-” He began to retort, as I had my fill of his bullshit. “....Can you really call yourself a Master if you're already in pieces?” I said, smiling and licking the bottom half of his body, lifting it up to top half, cackling. “W-what...w-who are you?” He said, his sanity breaking as I let go of the hold I had on his skull within the world of Souls, our world.

His will broken, and his soul beginning to detach, I grasped firmly upon the string one would call the soul and pulled. He was dead to rites. It had been easy, almost child's play. However, the string burned my hand and upon the air I heard his last curse. “YoU sHaLl never rest, you whore. I deem thee my successor, The Queen of the Land of Souls. Be you cursed to be alone and have no love in this world.” I spat on his dissolving corpse and stood up. “Queen of Chaos, huh? I could get used to t-” suddenly, I heard a cry. An inner heard across the vale, “Oh whatever god there is in this fucking universe, come to me.” It was masculine, but had tinges of an inner fragility. “Hmm, I'll not serve another ma-” “I'll serve that god for as long as I continue to draw breath, just please help me.” I grinned at this. I had broken Kami's Curse. I'd found the one thing I loved more than anything in this painful life – a boy who needs to cry.

The rest...as they say, is history. I had found my new slave, my...Darling. ~<3

////////////Entry completed\////////////////////////////

[-Report 11 completed.–]

[-Thank you for reading our return to form, we apologize if this report is corrupted or lackluster. The Director, his wife, and the Archive have had delays due to the Human Coronavirus. Not to The Director's Director of course, but The Archivist and The Director have had issues until recently. Regardless, thank you for reading. –]

[Priority – Supplemental-]

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[-Note from The Archive-]: We here at The Archive serve to report and document any and all information regarding The Chaos Gumi, The Director, and his wife The Director's Director, and The Mirahiru Family as a whole. However, from time to time rather than a full fledged and official reports, we will hazard to bring you pieces from deep into the life of The Chaos Gumi...think of it as sprinkles to our Chaotic Cake here at The Archive. So without further ado, we have a special recording which has just reached us here upon the Despair from Director Archknight's homeworld. Do enjoy.

[Jingle plays]

Praise be the Empress Ladies, Gents and Xenomechanical Scum!

[Cheers from a live audience erupts]

Breaking news this day, as renowned Shipping Magnate Archknight is seen spirited away from his headquarters in the glitzy Business District of Mechropolis City by a mysterious cat-like creature.

Could Dr. Alleyce, the Imperial Court's Head Biomechanist have been behind Archknight's mysterious disappearance? Imperial Guards have her imprisoned for crimes against Omeganity, and for her abominations supposedly created under under of the Empress. But, her influence over forces acting against the former Magnate puts her at the top of potential subjects.

Mr. Archknight had suspected ties to the infamous Omega Syndicate whose stance has always been anti-imperial, but Mr. Archknight is on-record as being indebted to the Empress for her generosity and magnanimity in helping him re-integrate into Omegian society. Reports remain inconclusive, but authorities will continue to investigate.

All employees of Omega Corp, the parent company to which all of Mr. Archknight's subsidiary companies report have been ordered to return to work despite this strange news and Mr. Archknight's third-in-command Destu native, Augusta Heindmaucker. Ms. Katherina Smathers, Mr. Archknight's second-in command and whom had a direct line to succession, refused to clarify why Ms. Augusta was selected. In an interview as she was seen leaving Omega Corp HQ, she simply stated. “Mr. Archknight left very specific instructions, and I am simply carrying out his last will and testament under the assumption he has passed.” Again, she has not said anything more on the subject, and has been unavailable for comment in the hours since this last night's disappearance.

The cat-like creature is thought to have been some unknown Xeno technology, but reports remain inconclusive on this first day of investigations. Imperial Cruisers in-orbit attempted to trace and pursue but as the object took a direct path through the void, further chase would be a violation of Imperial Law.

And now for, “The Adventures of Chaos Knights!”

[-Transmission ended-] [-Playback complete-]

[-DATA FRAGMENT ENTERING STORAGE-]

[-Note from the Director's Director's Desk-]: S̶o̵ ̷A̶r̷c̸h̶i̵v̵i̵s̴t̴-̷s̷a̷n̷,̸ ̴D̴a̷r̸l̷i̶n̶g̵ ̸s̸a̶y̴s̸ ̵y̷o̵u̴'̸r̴e̶ ̶g̶o̶i̵n̷g̸ ̸t̵o̴ ̶r̴i̷p̶ ̵m̴y̵ ̵m̷e̸m̵o̶r̸i̸e̶s̴ ̶o̸f̴ ̸K̷a̵m̵i̷-̵s̷a̸m̷a̷,̴ ̵s̶o̸ ̷t̸h̸a̶t̶ ̴t̵h̵e̸ ̸g̶h̴o̵u̵l̴i̵e̴s̴ ̸d̷o̷n̶'̷t̴ ̴h̵a̵v̶e̶ ̴t̴o̵ ̶s̵o̷r̶t̶ ̶t̷h̸r̶o̵u̸g̶h̸ ̶m̸y̷ ̸c̴o̸r̴r̴u̷p̸t̸e̷d̸ ̶t̸e̴x̸t̶?̸~̵ [-Editor's Note to Dir's Dir-]: Of course ma'am, it should be painless and non-invasive. You will still retain your memories, I'm basically just scanning them and writing what comes out of the readout. [-Note from the Director's Director's Desk-]: A̶h̶ ̷f̵i̵n̶e̴,̵ ̷j̷u̸s̸t̵ ̶p̷l̵e̷a̵s̷e̷ ̵d̵o̶n̸'̶t̵ ̶m̷a̸k̷e̸ ̵i̶t̶ ̷w̵e̵i̸r̶d̴?̵ ̴D̴a̶r̷l̴i̴n̷g̶ ̴w̷o̵u̴l̷d̶ ̸H̴A̵T̶E̸ ̷t̴o̸ ̷k̶n̴o̵w̴ ̸y̷o̴u̶ ̴h̶u̶r̷t̵ ̸m̴e̶ ̶i̷n̸ ̷a̶n̴y̷w̸a̸y̶,̶ ̵A̷r̴c̵h̷i̴v̴i̴s̷t̸.̴.̷.̸.̷l̶i̶k̴e̶,̶ ̶t̵h̸r̵o̵w̷ ̶y̸o̸u̶r̷ ̵s̶k̸i̵n̵n̸e̸d̷ ̴c̸o̶r̴p̷s̸e̶ ̶o̵u̶t̴ ̵t̸h̷e̷ ̷a̵i̸r̶l̶o̸c̸k̶ ̸h̵a̸t̶e̵.̶ ̷ [-Editor's Note to Dir's Dir-]: A-ah, yes ma'am. I w-will, take the utmost care in reading out those readings.

[-SUBJECT OF RESEARCH-]: The mental and physical conditions of The Director's Director, and Matriarch of the Mirahiru Family during her ascension to a Shinigami at the behest of a wrathful god whom she has since overtaken.

[-SCOPE OF RESEARCH-]: To expand and explain the origins of The Director's Director's Shinigami abilities, and how she became as omnipotent as she appears in her current state.

I remember the day I died, well not really died.

More accurately, I remember the day IT came to me with a bargain. As I laid upon the ground, having been sliced to bits by a rival. One who had taken my father before me, a spirit...no, a god stood eyeing me pitifully as he approached the piece of me that had held my eyes.

“Oh woeful, pitiful human wallowing in regret and rage...do you wish you to live forever?” Its voice bellowed, its figure obscured so as to obfuscate its visage from mortal eyes. I did not know how to answer them, as I laid there and the pieces of flesh that had once been me twitched in a futile attempt to be reconstructed. Had I known what trials I would have to face, I think I would have been quicker to answer...knowing that my Darling lay at the end of those trials. But in that moment? I was silent, and the world grew dark.

Soon, the foul stench of a thousand deaths washed over me as I slowly regained consciousness and found myself whole again. “Where....where am I?” I finally said, despite the overwhelming aura of decay that engulfed the small atrium I now found myself in. There was no mistaking, I was in a cave or a structure somewhere.

“Are all skilled mortals so...confused or do you just not remember what this place is?” A dark, smug voice emanated from a grizzled and frail figure carrying a long blackened scythe in one bony set of fingers. I knew then, where it was I had been spirited away to.

“So, guess the quartering wasn't just another one of my nightmares then, eh gramps?” I said nonchalantly. Knowing that I was dead, and that it wasn't like he could make me any more dead than I was, all semblance of manners had vanished from me. It was as if I'd been sanded down, and what remained was my trained instinct and my pure unadulterated anger. I was pissed. I was angry at my father for being murdered, angry at my former Boss for setting me up on a fake job to do me in, and most of all? Angry at myself for falling for the whole ruse, for not straying more off the rails from what could have been.

“Off the rails, you say?” the old man said as if to read my mind, dressed in a finely tailored suit, his features still as frail and innocuous as they had been a moment ago. “Well missy, I can't let you go off against them in a blind fury or you'd be nothing more than a wraith or a Yuurei, and plainly? You're too valuable a tool, er..asset for that.” The man said, helping me up and staring up to face me.

“And just what does my value get me, Spirit Guide?” I said, and at this the man chuckled. “Oh missy, I am no spirit guide. I am a Shinigami, and a damn good one at that.” he retorted. “And what pray tell, does a Shinigami want with a high school dropout with Assassin training?” I pushed back, leaning into his face as he stood unfazed.

“I WANT to give you a job, but your shitty attitude is making it difficult to offer you redemption. Maybe I ought to take you apart, Humpty Dumpty style and see if all the King's men can put you back together again.” He said, smiling, a newfound confidence in his voice.

“Shit gramps, didn't take you for a psychopath. So, what's this job? What's it pay?” I said, waving off his poor taste in jokes. “What good would paying a walking set of lego blocks in the shape of a cat do?” he said, continuing to incite my anger almost as if he wanted me to try to swing at him. I tried, but as my fist entered the orbit around his aura it collapsed like a Jenga set with one too few pegs. “Point made gramps, so what do you want a pile of cat girl legos to do?” I said, giving in to his poor way with words. “I want you, missy, to be a reaper. I have been watching you work, and your ways of sadistic torture...I like it. I want you to roam the land undead and unfeeling, and...well, masticate the wicked so to speak,” he said coyly. I beckoned him to continue and clarify. “I want you, to scare the wicked, but don't kill them, immediately anyway. I want you to sow chaos and despair throughout the Earth. Burn em, torture em, make deals with em, until they BEG you to take them to Jigoku.”

My lips rose at this, into a sort of twisted smile. I was surprised at myself. This sense of pure....uncalled for and unladylike...joy. For the first time in my short twenty-five years of life..I felt...joy at the thought of masticating, torturing and capturing wayward souls. Before, it had been my way to pay off the debt my family owed...but with me, there was no family to pay off a debt and subsequently no debt.

I took the gramp's offer.

And from that day forward, I was not only The Whispering Cat of Death, I was Death – herself.

[– Mrs. Mirahiru bursts into a laughing fit here, even her memories couldn't hold in her laughter from the readout produced by the scan. –]

[– Report 10 Completed...for now. –]

[– Note from Management (read, Mr and Mrs. Mirahiru) –]: Yuki and I appreciate you all continuing to read entries from the Archive!~ O̶n̴c̷e̴ ̴D̵a̵r̷l̶i̵n̷g̷ ̶a̵n̶d̸ ̶t̴h̵e̶ ̷A̴r̷c̷h̷i̶v̷i̶s̴t̴ ̵c̵a̵n̸ ̸g̷e̴t̴ ̸r̷e̶p̸o̷r̶t̵s̵ ̷o̷u̸t̶.̵ ̸;̷3̶ ̸ Y-yuki! It h-hasn't been that long since the last update. Yuki makes a smug face W-w-whatever. So, what's this Kami's name? O̷h̵!̸ ̵H̸i̸s̴ ̶n̶a̸m̸e̴ ̶w̵a̸s̵ ̶[̸R̴E̶D̶A̴C̴T̵E̴D̶ ̷B̶Y̷ ̴K̵A̷M̷I̷]̶ O-O

[-SUBJECT OF RESEARCH-]: The Director and The Director's Director, and the matter of their lack of fluffy tail. A matter which is generally not discussed, but which the Ghoulies have taken quite an interest in learning more about.

[-NOTE FROM THE DIRECTOR AND THE DIRECTOR'S DIRECTOR-]: Sorry about the lateness of this update, everyone. As you know, we intended to have this report completed on Yuki's birthday, but the outside world has its ways of mucking things up. M̸h̴m̶m̵,̵ ̷D̶a̴r̴l̸i̷n̴g̵ ̷a̷n̴d̷ ̴I̸ ̷h̸o̴p̷e̸ ̵y̵o̷u̴ ̴s̵t̸i̴l̷l̶ ̶e̶n̷j̸o̸y̵ ̶E̷n̸t̴r̸y̷ ̶9̶.̶ ̸A̸s̶ ̷e̵m̸b̴a̴r̶r̸a̶s̴s̵i̸n̵g̸ ̷a̵s̷ ̶i̴t̷ ̶m̷i̵g̴h̶t̷ ̴b̷e̶.̶ ̴~̴ ̷Y-yeah, as is the way of things sometimes.

[-SCOPE OF RESEARCH-]: To explain and expunge upon a question posed by The Chaos Gumi as to why The Director and his wife do not in fact have visible tails. Both the Director and the Director's Director tend to find this question rather embarrassing but have agreed to divulge this report for the Dir's Director's birthday.

[-Report 09 – The Tales of Two Tails –]

D̵a̸r̶l̶i̶n̸g̷ ̴s̷a̴i̸d̴ ̶I̸ ̶s̷h̷o̵u̷l̶d̵ ̴p̶r̷o̷b̸a̶b̶l̶y̶ ̵g̸o̶ ̸f̷i̵r̵s̵t̴,̴ ̴s̷o̷ ̸h̶e̵r̷e̸ ̵g̴o̴e̵s̵ ̶n̴o̵t̶h̷i̵n̵g̴.̶.̴.̵ ̷ ̵T̷h̵e̸ ̵r̷e̴a̵s̷o̶n̸ ̸I̶ ̶h̶a̷v̵e̸ ̷n̸o̶ ̴v̸i̷s̷i̵b̸l̵e̸ ̵t̶a̴i̸l̸?̴ ̷W̵-̷w̸e̶l̵l̷.̶.̵.̵ ̶ ̵T̴h̷e̶ ̵y̷e̶a̵r̴ ̸w̵a̴s̵ ̸1̸9̵8̵7̴,̸ ̷w̴h̷e̷n̵ ̵m̴y̵.̵.̶.̵ ̶”̸a̸b̵i̴l̶i̶t̵i̶e̴s̷”̵ ̵b̸e̶g̶a̵n̴ ̷t̵o̶ ̵c̵o̵m̷e̸ ̵t̶h̸r̸o̵u̴g̸h̴.̶ ̴M̸y̵ ̷m̸o̸m̶ ̷h̵a̸d̶ ̸s̸a̶i̵d̴ ̵i̴t̴ ̸w̴a̵s̶ ̴j̴u̸s̷t̶ ̶p̵u̶b̷e̷r̴t̶y̸,̶ ̵t̴h̸a̷t̶ ̶I̶ ̷w̸a̶s̷ ̸j̷u̶s̷t̴ ̸”̵b̴e̵c̶o̷m̴i̶n̷g̶ ̵a̵ ̷w̷o̴m̷a̵n̸,̷”̸ ̶b̷u̶t̵ ̴t̵w̷o̷ ̴l̸o̴n̶g̸,̷ ̷t̷w̶i̴r̸l̶i̷n̷g̶ ̷c̸a̸t̴ ̶t̶a̴i̴l̶s̴ ̵a̸n̷d̷ ̷s̶u̶p̵e̸r̵ ̷a̴d̵o̴r̸a̵b̸l̶e̷ ̶c̶a̶t̸ ̷e̸a̶r̸s̸ ̷a̵r̸e̷ ̸n̴o̵t̶ ̶w̶h̸a̵t̷ ̷h̵u̶m̷a̴n̶s̵ ̶w̶o̶u̶l̷d̶ ̴c̴a̶l̵l̸ ̴p̷u̸b̵e̵r̴t̸y̵.̴ ̴E̶v̵e̸n̴t̸u̶a̵l̵l̸y̸ ̴t̴h̴o̵u̸g̷h̵,̶ ̴a̷s̶ ̵m̶y̸ ̴t̷r̵a̸i̷n̴i̸n̷g̷ ̴w̶i̵t̷h̷i̵n̴ ̸t̸h̷e̸ ̴I̸s̶h̸i̶z̵u̵k̸i̸ ̷C̶l̵a̸n̶ ̸c̷o̴n̴t̷i̶n̶u̷e̴d̵,̷ ̴m̴y̵ ̷b̷o̴s̶s̵ ̶h̴a̴t̷e̷d̷ ̵m̷e̵ ̸m̷o̸r̶e̴ ̷a̷n̴d̸ ̸m̷o̶r̴e̶ ̸a̸s̸ ̴m̵y̷ ̷t̴a̸i̴l̷s̷ ̶g̶r̴e̸w̶ ̵i̴n̶ ̴n̷u̸m̵b̸e̷r̷ ̶a̶n̸d̷ ̴m̶y̶ ̸e̷a̷r̵s̴ ̵b̷e̸c̶o̷m̵e̷ ̴m̵o̵r̵e̵ ̵p̷r̴o̷m̸i̵n̶e̸n̴t̴.̶ ̶ ̸ ̸”̴G̵e̶t̸ ̴t̴h̷o̷s̸e̴ ̸f̴u̷c̶k̷i̸n̶g̵ ̵t̶h̶i̴n̵g̸s̷ ̸t̵r̴i̸m̴m̶e̸d̴ ̸o̷r̴ ̷s̷o̸m̴e̴t̶h̷i̵n̸g̶,̶ ̴b̸i̸t̷c̷h̶!̸”̶ ̷I̵s̷h̷i̴z̷u̵k̶i̷-̷s̷a̸m̵a̴ ̴h̶a̷d̷ ̸s̴a̴i̴d̴,̶ ̷o̸v̶e̶r̷ ̵h̵a̵r̷d̷ ̸n̵i̷g̸h̵t̵'̶s̴ ̵d̷r̷i̶n̵k̵i̶n̷g̸ ̶a̵n̸d̸ ̴p̸h̵i̴l̴a̷n̸d̶e̵r̵i̸n̵g̵ ̶w̶i̷t̷h̵ ̴m̵y̶ ̷m̶o̵t̵