Sothing called to .
It wasn't a voice. It wasn't a thought. It was a pull—deep, instinctual, undeniable.
My fingers twitched as I felt it well up inside , the sickly, familiar sensation crawling through my veins like liquid instinct. A beckoning force urging to manifest—to conjure.
And without hesitation, I answered.
The Harpoon of Endless Blood materialized in my grip, surging forth from nothingness, forming from that crimson gel-like substance that pulsed and twisted like sothing between living flesh and molten resin. It was warm, as if it had a heartbeat, as if it rembered every ti it had been used before.
And then—before I could even register my own intent—the Landship's defenses crumbled.
I barely rembered reaching for the tipieces—the core components of this bastion's defensive chanisms, the unseen gears of their machinery. Yet, there they were. Suspended in my grasp. Severed from ti itself.
I had taken them. Just like that.
The automated turrets. The motion sensors. The integrated defense systems. All of them had ceased to function the mont I had pulled away their conceptual tipieces, rendering them into nothing more than lifeless steel until I willed them back into motion.
I rembered it clearly. I had done this before. Many, many tis before. It was my 'Authority'—a power that defied logic, that unraveled the very chanisms of reality itself.
I didn't know why I had it, but I rembered that I always had it since the ti I was conscious of my own decision and walked with my two wee legs.
This power was essentially useless to fight against monsters and those of Calamity Objects, but it was extrely useful against those who ca from a civilization.
And on my voyage, I rembered that we fought a lot with these kinds of encounters.
But this ti—this ti was different.
This wasn't so desperate struggle for survival at sea. This wasn't an act of necessity against an enemy I had no choice but to fight.
This was a mistake. Explore hidden tales at My Virtual Library Empire
I had deactivated the entire defensive system of an unknown bastion. Without provocation. Without reason. I had just instinctively crippled their stronghold.
And worse—I had done it while summoning my weapon.
"Ah… aaah… aaaahh…!"
I was an intruder—a woman with a harpoon standing before two ard bastioneers of greater techs and humanity, in a place where I did not belong, having just disard their defenses without explanation.
The realization hit like a crashing wave.
I had barely moved, yet I had already sealed my own fate.
They were watching .
The two won—one with wild, energetic eyes, the other with a colder, calculating presence—stood poised, weapons drawn, their stances tight with anticipation.
They were waiting.
Waiting for to attack. Waiting for to prove that I was a threat.
I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. My mind spiraled.
How could I possibly explain this?
That I hadn't ant to do it? That my body had acted on its own? That I wasn't an enemy, but just a pathetic, half-broken vagabond who had stumbled into this place by pure accident?
No.
No sane person would believe that.
Seconds stretched into eternity.
Ten. Fifteen. Twenty.
They were still waiting.
And I—
I had to do sothing.
"I—I'm not hostile!" I voiced my plea. "I have no idea why I'm here… I have no idea who you are, I… I don't want any of this…!"
The words tumbled out of before I could stop them, voice cracking like brittle glass, completely unconvincing.
The mont they left my lips, I knew how awful they sounded.
Weak. Panicked. The kind of desperate lie soone sputtered right before attacking, while also hypocritical with how I still aid my weapon against them.
And judging by the way the two bastioneers exchanged a quick, knowing glance—one that scread seriously?—I had completely botched my one chance at de-escalation.
Their weapons remained drawn, their stances unshaken. They weren't just ready for to make a wrong move. They were expecting it.
I swallowed hard, my throat dry. My grip on the harpoon tightened. My breathing quickened. My heart pounded.
I was screwing this up.
I had to fix this. I had to—
My body moved before I could think.
I lifted the harpoon—
Not toward them.
Toward my own throat.
Their stances snapped tighter, but I didn't give them ti to act.
"If you get any closer, I—I'll—!"
Oh, gods.
What was I doing?
I was threatening to off myself in front of them.
The thought hit an instant too late, and the full absurdity of it nearly made choke.
This wasn't fixing anything—this was making everything worse.
What was my plan here? That they'd just let go if I held myself hostage? That they'd drop their weapons and let waltz off because I had terrible self-preservation instincts?
The sheer stupidity of my own decision caught up to all at once, but there was no way to take it back now.
The livelier one—the shorter of the two, with wild, golden eyes and an expression like she had survived absolute madness and lived to tell about it—sighed, lowering her weapon just slightly.
"All right. Let's not do that." She pointed to herself with a rather pained smile. "My na is Naosi, and this is Yora. Please don't be alard, put your weapon away from yourself.
"We're not going to harm you as long as you're reasonable and of sound communicable mind."
Her voice was firm, but patient. The kind of tone used on skittish animals and people having a very bad day.
The taller one—Yora, the one with the pale complexion and sharp green eyes—remained tense but didn't advance. "No one is hurting you. Put the weapon down,"
I sohow hesitated.
"I—I don't trust that."
I ssed it up.
I should have complied with their suggestion, and maybe just threw away this harpoon and kneeled in front of them.
I wanted to die, but I really don't want to die…
They both gave a look.
The golden-eyed one—Naosi, as she introduced herself—sighed again, deeper this ti.
"Well, I don't trust you either, so we're even." She chuckled. "But of course, things will just get easier if you just, you know." She gestured her thumb to taphorically cut off her own neck. "It's a bad idea, especially if you haven't got a taste of a real good al in your life."
I blinked.
She didn't sound malicious. Just… inconvenienced. Like this whole scenario was mildly annoying rather than dangerous.
That threw off completely.
And it certainly helped my not-so-sane instinct and mind
Yora nodded, keeping her stance asured. "Just listen to Naosi. Do what she says."
I swallowed hard.
The weight of my own irrational, impulsive mistake sank into my chest like an anchor.
Slowly—hesitantly—I lowered the harpoon.
The air remained thick with tension, but it eased—just slightly.
And then—
The deck shifted beneath my feet.
A sickening, crawling sensation rippled through the very tal floor, a feeling of sothing pressing through—like fingers sinking into softened wax.
A presence. A hunger.
Sothing was here.
I knew it before I even saw it.
The world twisted. The air bent unnaturally, like light warping around a void.
And from the tal—
A Pallid rmaid erged.
A grotesque, veined form swam through the solid floor as if it were liquid, its mbranous body shifting with an unnatural fluidity. Its face—its eerily human face—remained completely still, empty eyes fixed on with an unreadable stare.
The mont our gazes t—
I moved.
There was no hesitation. No thought.
"HOW DARE YOU APPEAR HERE!"
The Harpoon of Endless Blood lashed out, striking with a force that tore through air and space alike.
The Pallid rmaid recoiled, its unnatural body twisting, the mbrane stretching and shifting as if trying to rearrange itself. But it did not die, for it was much more resilient than a re entity of life in this world.
Thankfully, this was a stray one from its own domain, and they were usually far less powerful than their original state.
Regardless, it retaliated.
As always, its movents were erratic, unpredictable—a predator that had never learned fear.
It lunged, the air distorting around it, and I barely had ti to twist out of the way before its grotesque form sliced past , sending a sharp ripple through the deck.
Then—
The bastioneers joined the fight.
Naosi moved with wild, brutal efficiency, her Prismforge shifting mid-motion between offense and defense, striking with a fluid rhythm that kept the creature off balance.
Yora fought with asured precision, her segnted chain-blade carving through the air in controlled, lethal arcs, the edges of her weapon humming with energy.
Even with the three of us attacking at once, the Pallid rmaid refused to die.
It blinked in and out of place, shifting through the deck like a living mirage, its form constantly warping and reforming.
Every strike that should have landed missed by re inches. Every attack that should have ended it only forced it to retreat montarily, reforming from another angle.
Sothing was wrong.
And then—I realized.
The Landship's turrets weren't firing.
Because I hadn't returned their tipieces.
A sharp curse left my lips.
Without thinking, I threw out my hand.
"Return!"
The stolen ti surged back into place.
And in the next instant—
The Landship roared to life.
Turrets whirred. Barrels turned.
Defense systems locked on.
A storm of energy and Theotech alloys rained down on the Pallid rmaid, striking with unrelenting force.
It wailed, the sound not ant for mortal ears, its body convulsing violently under the relentless assault.
It tried to retreat—tried to shift away, tried to phase out of reach—
But the Landship's systems had already marked it as prey.
Another volley of fire tore through its veined mbrane, ripping into the grotesque core of its being.
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