"Who created you?" The answer spilled from her lips before Fan Yumei registered what she had. She voiced her thoughts out loud.
[Master is not permitted to know our creator. Your cultivation level is too low at this time.]
Tsk.
What was a cliché answer?
She ignored it and turned her head slightly.
"Old Thief… is all that true?" Fan Yumei called out to the silent bracelet.
"Mhm. It's not wrong.," came the cryptic reply.
"Hmm."
Fan Yumei nodded, contemplating what to do with such a unique situation and sensitive information. Though I don't accept that answer… what am I supposed to do now?
Having spent considerable time in combat and on suicide missions during her previous life, Fan Yumei had cultivated a deep-seated aversion to unknown variables. Nevertheless, this disdain did not equate to fear; she tackled any unexpected challenges that came her way with determination and resolve.
"Let's give them a name first before we decide what to do later. I'm too tired to think," she decided after a while.
"Come here," she called out to SF-HUB-001.
It flashed in front of her, kneeling with its head bowed.
She couldn't see its features clearly—just the outlines of its face and the energy that burned bright like a sun coming from both its body and scythe.
"Hhsss," Fan Yumei gasped, jerking her head away; her eyes burned in the back of her head from staring a second too long.
A bloody teardrop fell from her left eye. The brilliance gnawed at her soul, as though looking too long at a truth she wasn't meant to see.
Not all things are so easily seekable.
She wiped her eyes before returning her full attention to her new companion.
Fan Yumei held out her hands. "Hand over your weapon."
SF-HUB-001 hesitated.
She sensed it but didn't comment or give words of comfort—just waited patiently, her face indifferent.
The machine paused for a moment before placing the scythe gently in her hands.
She felt the cold-to-the-touch weapon, and she could see the dense energy swirling inside it—it was definitely a special weapon.
It felt heavier than its size should allow, as if burdened with centuries of slaughter.
Mm, very good weapon.
She could just tell by the feel of it and felt a pang of jealousy that she couldn't see its full appearance.
What name should I give him? She wasn't too sure. This kind of thing happened so fast. She really couldn't think of anything else.
Other than Death?
Or maybe Damen—
Which felt like an insult to its appearance and a bit mean…
As Fan Yumei raised the scythe high above her head, a vivid image materialized before her.
It revealed a silhouette she assumed was SF-HUB-001, expertly wielding a fragment of its breathtaking powers.
She stood with it, frozen in awe. It was indescribable—nothing she had ever felt before.
What heavenly powers it has…
The air crackled with energy as vibrant colors swirled around, accentuating the scythe's intricate design and the sheer force of SF-HUB-001's abilities.
Her hair whipped back wildly, a chaotic dance in the relentless winds that howled around her.
Fan Yumei lifted her hands high, desperately trying to shield herself from nature's fury, her fingers trembling as the gusts tugged at her with ferocious intent.
Intently, she honed in on her stance, feeling the uneven grip of her feet clinging to the shifting, unstable ground beneath her.
Each subtle tremor sent ripples of uncertainty through her body.
The slightest movement of SF-HUB-001's weapon reverberated through her, a jolting reminder of its weight and power.
It made finding stability increasingly difficult as the very earth beneath her seemed to sway in response to her every motion.
Each fleeting moment of the vision conveyed a sense of both awe and impending destiny, as the essence of power and purpose intertwined in that extraordinary display.
Gasp.
Fan Yumei could no longer bear the suffocating weight of the power surrounding her.
Just as it drew its menacing weapon back, poised to strike, the vision abruptly severed, leaving her unable to witness the full arc of its lethal move.
Perhaps she simply lacked the strength to withstand the overwhelming force of the weapon.
With a jolt, she was yanked from the vision, her mind reeling as if she'd just sprinted a marathon.
A wave of exhaustion swept over her, leaving her breathless and slightly doubled over, adrenaline still coursing through her veins and electrifying every nerve.
She found herself ensnared in the vivid memory of the vision she had experienced, its fleeting images replaying in her mind like an echo of a forgotten dream.
As she uttered the new name she had chosen for it—one that felt perfectly aligned with its essence—she could almost see the colors and shapes materializing before her once more, each detail steeped in significance and emotion.
She kept her eyes closed, seeking solace from the sharp pain that radiated through her being. As she focused her mind, she summoned her soul power and qi, channeling their warm currents through her core and spirit, desperately attempting to ease the relentless ache.
Amidst this turmoil, she found a moment of clarity.
"I'll name you Grimme. Like the Reaper," she whispered softly into the quiet darkness.
The word hung in the air, rich with meaning. Death felt too simplistic, a mere cessation that lacked the gravity she sought to convey.
Damen, while more personal, carried a certain crudeness that didn't resonate with the weight of her experience.
But Grimme… that name felt ancient, steeped in inevitability, as if it had waited in the shadows for a moment like this—a perfect tribute to the swirling uncertainties of life and death that surrounded her.
"We are now known as Grimme."
[Bond is now officially completed.]
The words echoed inside her mentally, and the scythe pulsed once with a heartbeat not her own.
She handed the weapon back to Grimme.
"Thank you, master," he said reverently, bowing his head low.
The weight of gratitude lingered in the air as he extended his arms forward, accepting the scythe with both hands.
Her taste buds and sense of smell were suddenly overwhelmed—the scent of sweet buns and the flavor of them materialized on her tongue.
What is happening with me?! With the new smells and tastes, her chest felt warm and fuzzy. She realized her body was physically echoing Grimme's gratitude, like a mirror of his energy.
All of this was… definitely overwhelming.
Was I so hungry that I can taste food I'm not even craving?
Grimme stepped back deliberately, lowering himself into a kneeling position, the cool earth beneath him grounding his resolve.
With a clenched fist pressed firmly against his chest, he slammed the scythe's blade onto the ground, the metallic thud echoing as a solemn gesture of his allegiance to the Grimme name.
Fan Yumei was too wrapped up in her mini third mental breakdown. She allowed herself to be frustrated and upset for a moment before trying to think of the bright side.
Life is hard…
She stood to her feet, still a little wobbly and dizzy.
"All right, gang, gather up. We're going to enter the sanctuary. We only have two days inside, but two days is more than enough to rest. Eat something and heal up a bit before we start rerouting our plans and make a move elsewhere."
She called for Maxius and Grimme, who were already near her.
They said nothing—only responded in unison, Ready, standing close enough to brush against her leg or side.
She called for Maxius and Grimme. Both replied in unison, ready, brushing against her leg or side.
A translucent doorway shimmered into existence before them. It slowly opened on its own, revealing the sanctuary's warm light.
Maxius guided Fan Yumei inside, steadying her as she walked. Grimme followed silently behind, scythe lightly tapping the ground.
Once she was fully inside, the door sealed behind them with a soft click. Fan Yumei exhaled, letting the calm of the sanctuary wash over her.