A/N: 13k Words, next chapter might come out sooner than expected.
***
"Your Majesty," Islam Witte tucked his tie in, fixing it in just as he entered the room with his left hand. His right hand moved a cane along with his movements, his steps steady and brisk in pace as to make his arrival quick. However, they also held a supreme professionalism to them, making sure to show his utmost respect to the person in front of him. "I have urgent news—as always."
"It has always been the case with your arrival, Witte," Fyodor Vladimirovich, the current Emperor of Ursus, called out to his Advisor. "I don't mind hearing it even if it is not the greatest of news, so please, do not sugarcoat even a single inch of it." He sat at his desk in a luxurious room, the embedded gold and silver glistening from the light sources strewn across the ceiling like a skillfully crafted piece of art.
"...Then I fear it might be some of the worst news we've had to bear witness to," Witte let out a small sigh, bracing himself to give out the news to his Emperor. "Have you heard of the recent occurrences within Chernobog? It has spread out far and wide all across Ursus, plaguing many the Duke's and Nobles minds—military personnel included. Indiscriminately, might I add."
"That...?" Fyodor raised an eyebrow, pausing his pen in mid air while turning toward his Advisor. "What could have possibly happened if all of them had been struck with unpleasant news?" There was always an event in Ursus which benefitted one side and caused immense trouble for the other, that was what he had been used to over the past few years of running this decaying country.
"I believe it is best if you see for yourself, your Majesty," Witte reached into his coat, pulling out a small size tablet from it, "please." He moved forward after giving off a swift and small bow, placing it upon the Emperor's desk, "it may relate to matters of Higashi, that has been the recent gossip and fear happening around."
"Higashi..." Fyodor spoke out the name while grabbing the tablet, turning it on. The country which had allied with Yan during the Bloodpeak Campaign and had beaten back the Ursus military... very well. "What could have happened in regards to them?" A faint spark of worry ignited, as the process of repairing relationships with Higashi—even if they were painfully slow—still had some progress in it. However, it was naught but a fragile glass bridge, one ready to break at any moment.
The video played. It was in Chernobog, the Emperor immediately recognized the architecture and buildings layout to belong to that city specifically. Leaning on his chair while pressing his right hand over his cheek, Fyodor narrowed his eyes at the events taking place. It wasn't the normal occurrences happening around which had caught his attention, but the brewing clouds of 'malice' forming atop, bearing down its fangs.
"...A Catastrophe?" Fyodor breathed out, assuming it to be a large natural disaster that was about to impact Chernobog. However, it didn't make sense, if it was related to Higashi, why would it have to include a Catastrophe? He had known of the Witch King and his abilities to induce artificial Catastrophes with him... admittedly terrifying Arts, but did Higashi possess anybody like this? If it was one of their Shinto gods, then their powers were relegated to their own domains.
"You'll see, your Majesty," Witte fiddled with the bulbous tip of his cane, closing his eyes as the audio from the tablet led its way into his ears. "It is not simply a Catastrophe, it is... much more complex than that."
"I'll take your words to heart," Fyodor said, before squinting at the virtual images displaying themselves. "Hold on... those clouds don't look natural, and I've never seen vermillion lightning such as..." His hand moved to cover his mouth, having caught sight of something squirming in the clouds. "Goodness..."
"I take it you've seen just as I have," Witte lowered his head, "this is what has been plaguing Ursus' wellbeing in recent times, and fingers have been pointed as a result."
"I'll be damned..." Fyodor was not one to use crass language, but the situation wasn't anything that warranted a washed tongue. "Is this..." he watched an eight-headed serpent which towered over skyscrapers with hilarious ease. That was with each of its singular head, not including the rest of its serpentine body which was coiled together. If it unravelled itself, the Emperor of Ursus was sure it would cause a catastrophic amount of damage.
The crimson thunder was its maiden, dancing across with the creature as rain started to pour down incessantly. There were golden flames which came out at every breath, looking in a way that would remind anybody of Higashinese's traditional art paintings. He was starting to see Higashi could be related in the matter of the eight-headed serpent appearing in Chernobog, along with the clouds of pure dread.
"How much destruction...?" Fyodor was flabbergasted, gauging how much damage the monster that had appeared could do before an attack was fired off from it. Strangely enough, despite the length of him having stared aghast at the screen "...how much destruction came as a result of this calamity?"
"Surprisingly, your Majesty, none." Witte opened his eyes, calling out to Fyodor, "we don't know what the motive behind the beast's entrance was, nor if it served any purpose."
"Nothing at all?" The Emperor found that hard to believe, "is there any information how it came to be? Or was it just an advanced illusory Arts capable of targeting camera systems along with the public's perception?" It seemed impossible for such a large and imposing monster appearing from the sky to... not do anything at all.
"Your Majesty, the Royal Guards have been researching the matter and have put the entire city on a tight lock-down, I can assure you that they have found zero clues on how such an occurrence could have happened." Witte shook his head with a resigned expression, "based on information delivered from our modes of intelligence gathering... They presume it must be a rogue Feranmut hailing from Higashi, or a premeditated warning from the country. Our diplomats are currently attempting to reach out toward them with messengers, but I worry it may take too long before perceptions from both the Nobles and public stir into a greater risk of panic."
Fyodor continued to stare at the tablet in deep concentration. The screams of the citizens exploding into panic and all the other people around following along with the mass hysteria was... disturbing to his ears. There were already many matters in regards to treatment of the Infected that the Emperor was starting to become a headache, and so was the power struggle happening in the confines of Ursus itself. "Witte... do you remember the news that we had received... What was it? Two months ago?"
"...Yes," Witte affirmed his question, "the death of two Royal Guards in a squadron of five, by a Higashinese man, capable of summoning beasts described as: 'mythological in nature'."
"Do you really think Higashi is planning for something," Fyodor interlocked his fingers, his eyes starting to tense. The video had already ended, the image of the eight-headed serpent burning itself into his view, "something which may shake the foundations of Ursus itself?" A Higashinese man laying waste to two Royal Guards, a potential Higashinese Feranmut appearing in the city of Chernobog...
"I—we—are not sure. There has been too much turmoil happening all across Ursus once the video had spread even outside of Chernobog's intranet, so gaining any hard evidence regarding this matter is too difficult of a matter to fully comprehend," Witte responded while taking off one of his black gloves, "the best course of action—I presume—is to delegate our hopes to our diplomats. To see if Higashi denies or accepts the claim of their potential influence in what has happened today."
The Emperor of Ursus breathed out a strained breath, shaking his head and leaning back on his chair. "An eight-headed serpent descending from the skies, bearing down its flaming maw against the citizens of Ursus. This isn't a matter which should also be thrown into the political hodgepodge that is Ursus' current state, there would be immense chaos that would flourish as a result. Do you understand what I'm saying, Witte?"
"Most certainly, your Majesty."
"This... diplomatic meeting, may utterly destroy everything we have built up to this point. Do you think Ursus can handle a second Bloodpeak Campaign with its current state? Be honest with me, I know I can trust you to at least grant me an opinion not influenced by what I only want to hear." Fyodor breathed, placing his hand over his face. There was a headache forming... and that damned serpent won't stop invading his mind!
"Ursus... I..." Witte closed his eyes to ease himself, "as it stands, Higashi's allied front with Yan proves to make it a formidable foe for Ursus to stand up against once more. Their countries have been flourishing while ours have been dragged through the mud with internal affairs... our country cannot handle a second one."
"...Because we're divided, aren't we?" Fyodor didn't let out a groan, he knew better than to let out such a crass sound, "split into multiple sections... no, it's more accurate to say Ursus is a piece of glass shattered into nothing but a hundred shards. To gather them all together, we would need a miracle."
"But your Majesty, this is on the assumption that the doings of the eight-headed serpent was orchestrated by them. For all we know, and from our leads of the Higashinese man in the tundras, they may be a rogue who acts no in accordance in Higashi's will," Witte gave his two cents in order to calm the Emperor down. There were many great characteristics about the man, but so did he also possess many flaws. Dwelling on the worst-case scenario could be included as one of them.
"What if they lie through their teeth?" Fyodor brought up his counterpoint in response to Witte's words, "there are many possibilities that come in a politician's line of work, and lying as naturally as breathing is one of them." There were many cases in which he had to negotiate with Nobles in his life, and half-truths mixed in with lies was the most common of them all. "There are too many factors that come into this, and I worry about what will come for Ursus' future."
"Your Majesty, it is of my belief that all we can sustain to do now is wait. As much as I too—detest sitting around and twiddling my thumb. However, making hasty decisions when in the incorrect state of mind will do the Empire of Ursus no good." Witte gave his best response in the crumbling situation, having to wonder why it was this country which had to bear the burden of a 'potential' Feranmut bearing their fangs upon them.
"I can see that," Fyodor took a deep breath to let his overactive nerves calm down, "so we wait to see the results our diplomats bring... Aside from that, what other news do you have for me, Witte?" The Emperor was starting to wish he hadn't asked the man in front of him to confiscate his Vodka stash, because he was certainly desiring them at the current moment. Some habits just don't change.
"The ones who were supposed to be stationed in the Northwestern Tundras of Ursus have been killed, a large majority of them. It has been to a calculated number of four, while one remains missing. In regards to who had done so, there is heavy suspicion put on an Ursus soldier stationed at their temporary place of accommodation in Chernobog's military main FOB. They are still under heavy questioning after being taken in."
"Hm," Fyodor didn't react much to the news, "so those pansies wrought from nepotism have finally come and gone?" The Emperor knew that the situation wasn't a good one, especially with the political drama that was bound to happen from it, but he would be lying to say he was completely displeased with how it had developed. "A bunch of fools who wished to target some obscure Infected settlement in the tundras, there is not much to say about them. Who is this Ursus soldier, if I may ask? And why is he under heavy suspicion?"
"Wrong place, wrong time, I believe," Witte relaxed more, glad that his Emperor had finally let matters regarding the eight-headed serpent calm, even if it was for a brief moment. "They are average at best when undergoing the standardized physical examinations of the military, but the scene of slaughter had multiple 'electric' and 'charred' slashes across the room. It wasn't something a mere soldier with average statistics could achieve, and certainly not one who would faint at such a scene. That is of course, unless they are putting up an act, which is already flimsy with the allotted time of the action already providing enough of a window for them to escape."
"An astute observation, Witte." Fyodor was starting to remember why he had this man as his Advisor, "release the soldier from detainment, make sure to include it as the word of the Emperor himself."
"Ah... I see," Witte nodded, feeling a bit shocked at the other man's words, but came to an immediate understanding. "I will make sure such injustice doesn't plague the young soldier anymore that it has," he reached for the tablet which had turned off not too long ago on the Emperor's desk, giving a polite bow before making his exit.
***
The streets were crowded, the morning dew of the sun laying across the cobblestone sidewalk from the previous storm which had passed yesterday. Although he didn't feel it as much due to the interior structure of the Spire providing a hefty bastion which could defend against them, Megumi didn't believe his eyes were betraying him with what he was seeing. For a place named Sturmland, the natural occurrences of nature definitely fit its moniker of a place forever 'graced' by storms.
He hadn't alerted anybody of his departure from the Spire to explore the place, as he only left a small letter on his desk detailing what he was doing. That was if he returned in time before anybody noticed, which the Sorcerer sorely doubted would be the case. With these thoughts passing through his head, Megumi placed a hand on his forehead in order to let it rest. There was something that had been bothering him for quite some time now, and it was...
...How lost he was. If it was Lungmen, then he could confidently say that he knew some parts of the Slums like the back of his hand. An awareness of one's surroundings was an important skill for a Sorcerer to have in their arsenal, so the black haired man had always been diligent when keeping it sharp and keen. 'Lungmen, huh? I haven't thought about it in a while.' A bitter notion came to him, before Megumi advanced further across the streets.
A few stares were sent his way, and the reason was already known to him, that being his oh so bright Dharmachakra. If anything, he was sure he would still receive many stares because of his 'Higashinese' attire, which was a complete contrast to the more simplistic attire worn by the people around him. At this point, Megumi was contemplating whether he should wear the black suit Laurentina had tailored for him. Although it wasn't the most important thing to think about, he was going to keep it on the backburner to come back to.
The scene continued to pass him back, moving to the side so as to not bump into any other passerby or civilians. Although it was only a cliche Megumi had seen from the films Gojo Satoru had him watch in order to train his Cursed Energy control, the black haired man wasn't going to take the chance of somebody overreacting to him accidently bumping into them. Politeness was a stressed part of Japan's culture, but internal thoughts were... a completely different factor compared to external thoughts.
The scenery continued to change like the everchanging signs of Japan's advertisement billboards. Whenever he took a step to an alleyway and found himself in a different part of the city that he was in, the black haired man would have to pause in his steps to register the situation. It was weird, being a foreigner in a strange land, having people stare at you for even the smallest action. He felt like an animal in a museum, far worse than any other place he had been at.
Lungmen was alright, considering how he matched most of the people's features in that place. His Higashinese robes could also be mistaken for Yanese robes, so that added to it, along with the fact he didn't possess his Dharmachakra back then. In Primavera, everybody was far too distracted with their own vices to pay much heed to the object above his head. In Ursus, he and Laurentina had only visited one village that wasn't populated to a considerable degree. Even then, it was disabled so he wouldn't have to deal with questions amongst people... he admittedly did not trust at the time.
Reunion Movement? Megumi could say he had received a lot of stares. It was the most out of every other place before, but it was still incomparable to Leithanien. Perhaps the folks at this place were more interested in the fact that it could be an Arts Unit or an application of Arts? He wasn't sure, but he surely can make more theories. But theories were just theories in the end, and not testing a hypothesis to prove or disprove the theory was counterproductive for what he wanted to understand.
While making his way across the river of human bodies walking around, ones which could easily become corpses at any moment, Megumi had finally spotted a place that looked like it suited his current needs. It was a sign, labelling a building as 'Stahlherstellar.' From the other German—er—Leithanian words which made it up, it was a blacksmith which produced a variety of things.
Just the place he needed.
***
The smoke of steel pervaded in the air when an object was placed into a cold bath. Superheated metals melted against the intense heat of creation which was the forge they were placed in, left to become something far greater than their current form. If there was one thing about humanity that could be looked upon with an affirmative nod, it would be their creativity and innovative nature.
To create greater tools out of superior materials in order for more efficient production. It was generalized, and heavily diluted in how Megumi had described it in his head, but that was the best way he could describe the process of humanity in the most simplistic way possible. In terms of materials, humanity had overcome the standard and base ones which had been granted by mother nature, and made it even greater.
By mashing multiple metals together to create what is known as an alloy, a greater material meant to forge tools had been found. What did that mean for weapons? That they also could become much more powerful, the results carving its way throughout the parchments of written history, and even alluding their influence to Jujutsu Society. Right now, a certain Sorcerer wished to capitalize on a world which possessed even more effective materials compared to Earth.
If there was one thing Fushiguro Megumi loved about the environment he has just walked into, is the professionalism of everybody inside. A few heads were turned toward him, but immediately turned back to whatever activities they were doing, not even registering the Dharmachakra above his head. There was somebody standing over the working blacksmiths, a late middle-aged man who looked to be watching over them.
'A Caprinae,' Megumi noted in his mind. He had only one instance where he had talked with a late middle-aged blacksmith, and that was about a time which happened nearly three months ago. Taking a step forward and making sure he didn't disrupt anybody—which was quite easy with how large the interior was—he called out toward who he assumed to be the boss of the establishment, "good morning, Herr...?"
"Huh?" The Caprinae reacted to his words by uncrossing his arms and turning around, "ah, Guten Morgen, welcome to Stahlherstellar, you're—" his words paused for a second when taking a full look at who had alerted him "—A Higashinese? Well, I wouldn't have taken your kind to be in Leithanien." The middle-aged man tilted his head while scratching the back of his head, "name's Michael, to answer your previous question."
"I see, good morning Herr Michael, I'm sure you already know why I walked into this shop," Megumi didn't know if he should reach his hand out for a handshake, but did so instinctively. He was pleasantly surprised when the Caprinae took it without much of a fuss, and shook it lightly. The sound of hammers striking against steel continued to echo out.
"A weapon? Well, can't say this establishment's ever made a weapon for a Higashinese such as yourself..." his gaze trailed upwards toward the object above Megumi's head "...impressive Arts Unit you got there, as impressive as your Leithanian tongue, eh?" He smiled amicably, releasing the handshake after speaking his part. "I'd mistake you as a Sankta if it were made of light."
"Ah, danke, I've had some lessons," Megumi deflected, "the Arts Unit is more of a family heirloom, which was passed down to me. I guess you could put it that way." Socializing wasn't a large part of his life, but even the black haired man sometimes surprised himself with how much he could talk when the situation called for it.
"Alright, alright, I understand." The Caprinae man nodded to himself, "then we should get down to business, may I have your name, Herr...?"
"Fushiguro Megumi," Megumi completed the words for the man on cue.
"Herr Fushiguro, then." Michael placed a hand under his chin while his eyes travelled elsewhere, as if stuck in small thought. To him, the name definitely sounded Higashinese, "what is it that you want to make? Leithanien has many fine weapons in its disposal, I can tell you for certain. Why don't you see some for yourself?" The Caprinae, motioned for the black haired man to follow him, "watch out with where you walk, by the way, don't want your expensive robes to catch aflame, haha~!"
"Ah, yes..." Megumi awkwardly replied in response to the man's joke. He didn't feel offended or insulted at all, but the Ten Shadows user felt like he was being the weird one for not responding as heartily to the joke as the man did for himself. Thankfully, Michael didn't seem to mind it too much, 'he's much different from... what's his name again?' The Liberi blacksmith back in Primavera... he forgot his name.
The two eventually made it to another room that was away from where all the blacksmithing was happening. A small message was given by Michael to all of his workers to keep at what they were doing, as they would be done with every commission assigned to them quickly if they hurried up their efforts. From what Megumi had understood, there were less commissions this day than any other, which was a boon for himself more than anything. No need to wait for his next weapon to be made too slowly.
"So, how about it?" Michael stepped to the side after opening the door and entering, displaying his arm in the direction of the wide assortment of weapons laid across. "Take a look for yourself. Although these aren't the most finely crafted blades, as they were only made for display purposes, you best know Stahlherstellar is not one to half-ass their actual products." He spoke confidently.
Megumi slowed his steps to make a full assessment of every weapon he was seeing at the moment. There were many weapons, ranging from curved blades to straight edges, along with many others that had modified purposes to them. From what he understood, these weapons were 'German' in nature, their designs hailing from the country as their origination. Truly, the Caprinae's words weren't a lie—even the weapons made for 'display' purposes weren't that bad at all.
"So, what's your pick, Herr Fushiguro?" Michael walked across what was a field of blades. However, said blades were stored away safely in display cases, so no fool would accidentally cut themselves even if they were to trip, "would you like a Messer to suit your needs?" The Caprinae's hand flicked, skillfully grabbing a weapon from one of their displays, before rotating it and grabbing the bladed end safely, handing the blunt handle toward Megumi's direction.
Megumi received it, holding the handle gently while placing his other hand's fingers on the blind side of the blade. The steel blade which looked like silver glimmering under the light of the room was just as any standard weapon would be. For such a simplistic weapon, the Sorcerer could see how some features of this weapon could be desirable, since he was also somebody who had utilized short swords many times in his own life.
"You see the edge of the blade?" Michael gently placed his finger on the blade with his gloved hand, gently guiding Megumi's gaze with where it was moving, "the blade is straight at first for sturdiness, but when it makes it to the tip of the we see that it's got a curve to it." The Caprinae slightly traced his index finger when it reached toward where he was indicating, "allows for both slashing with its curvature, and also great thrusting power to stab into any rabid Burdenbeast's hide without a hitch! For a lightweight weapon such as this, you can see with the curved grip handle that it also allows for more comfortable slashing motions. It also swings very agilely, said to be able to split the wind itself when in the hands of a skilled artisan of the blade."
The Caprinae released one of their hands and entered a mock stance with an invisible weapon, as if he were holding the Messer itself, and swung the air to further accentuate his point.
"Doesn't any blade split the wind when swung?" Megumi raised an eyebrow, not making much sense of what should be an impressive feat for the weapon. If it was specified to be air molecules, then the black haired man could find that to be impressive, but just the wind...? Or was he looking into this statement far too critically for his own good?
"Ah, no need to get into all the nitty gritty of technicalities," Michael rolled his eyes with an exasperated berth, "gotta make your weapons sound impressive, some people just don't believe what their eyes see—and would rather listen to what their ears hear."
"...That's a good way of putting it," Megumi noted, before handing the Messer back to the other man. The small weight of the weapon left his hand without anything else, "but I don't believe this weapon is what I'm looking for." For a moment, he felt as if visiting a Leithanien blacksmith was... sort of a mistake for the kind of weapon that he wanted to be crafted.
"Mal sehen, would you like a..." Michael moved elsewhere, putting on yet another contemplative stance. His steps moved across the room after he had placed the Messer back in its display, before stopping at another one "...an Estoc perhaps? It's more specialized than the Messer, I'd say. Not all that good for slashing, but it does mighty fine when used for thrusts. It was said to be used effectively by soldiers in order to pierce through armor. This one here is larger than the usual standard one, but you get the... point, heh?" The Caprinae picked it up with both hands, feeling at the edge. "What do you think?"
Megumi stepped forward, and received the blade. From the way Michael had handed the weapon to him, the Sorcerer could only compare it to the same action as a cliche 'passing of the blade' in those Japanese samurai movies he had watched with Gojo Satoru. Actually, scratch that, he didn't even watch them with the white haired man, for his sensei had always left for some mission half-way through.
"If some poor sod thinks they're safe in their fancy and bulky armor, just give a good ol' jab with this weapon and make them reconsider going home," Michael spread his arms out while talking, "heard those heavily armored Gaulish soldiers from back then couldn't handle it when they had decided it was a good idea to invade Leithanien. Wasn't there myself, but I can assure you it must have been a majestic sight, to watch alloyed armor being reduced to nothing but paperweight."
"All Estocs did that?" Megumi raised an eyebrow, feeling the weight of the weapon. It still wasn't what he looked for, but he still looked like he was analyzing it with delicate movements, because he didn't wish to come off as dismissive. "Or were a majority of them powered by some sort of application of Arts."
"Well, I believe that speaks more for the average skill of a Leithanien soldier than the weapon itself, but having good synergy with Arts already proves of the weapon's effectiveness, wouldn't you say so?" Michael crossed his arms with a wispy look, "yeah, that sounds nice—effective Arts synergy... that might draw in some Casters..."
"Mhm..." Megumi walked behind the man, before placing the weapon back in its display, "it's still not what I'm looking for." The Sorcerer shook his head before turning back, "what I'm looking for is to have a weapon—" he was about to say 'custom-made in a way that the blacksmith might have never done before,' but was cut off.
"Ah, to have a weapon like a polearm?" Michael clashed his fist against his palm, as if he had discovered what the black haired man had wanted. "What do you say, a Hellebarde? We don't have any of those on display, but we can certainly make one of them without much of a hitch. The polearm's got some nice features to it too, being able to thrust from a good distance away, and a small axe-part which can cleave at any opponent than stands your way. Did you know that polearms are considered the 'King of Weapons,' by the Yanese people? A herrlich and apt descriptor if you ask me, with how they were made to—"
"I'm not looking for a polearm, either..." Megumi wondered if this Caprinae man was going to ever let him finish describing what he wanted. He didn't want to cut Michael off when he was having his passionate ramblings, as he would feel guilty for doing so, but at this point; the Sorcerer wasn't sure if he could even get his request out at this rate.
"Not a polearm either, then..." Michael's eyes seemed to possess a glint in them, the light shining from it halting Megumi from opening his mouth again. Unbeknownst to the Caprinae man, the black haired man in front of him was starting to contemplate his decision for visiting a Leithanien blacksmith "...A Zweihander! That—must be the weapon you must be looking for, am I right? The blade forged by centuries of culture in Leithanien, used for many purposes across the many passing years of this country's history. It is undeniable that the weapon designed as a greatsword serves a lot of features, especially with the many additions that have blossomed amongst its design. I'd even go as far to say that it possesses nearly all of the weapons which I have shown so far, the pinnacle of Leithanien's weapon design and..."
Megumi could feel his own expression dropping.
"...A delicate flower meant to stay permanently flourishing in the canals of Leithanian History. Here, let me try to find where I have one stored," Michael moved across the room once more with brisk steps, evident excitement from how his hands moved along with himself. "There it is, the beauty sleeping in its chambers..." his voice became softer when regarding the specific weapon, far softer than when he was describing all the other ones "...it's magnificent, isn't it? Just take a look at it, the finely crafted handle made from Leithanien's greatest leather, the crossguard made for protecting your fingers, the parrying hook attached which..."
The Caprinae's words went one ear for Megumi, and out the other.
"...It holds a great many versatile uses, being able to thrust and slash effectively, and its immense weight is wholly effective in breaking through any defense. Even the most towering of shields would find themselves cut cleanly in half. Aha... it's only fitting for a weapon used widely by the Gesatzwachter, some of the greatest soldiers which Leithanien has to offer. Their Arts were powerful, able to tear down castle walls and gates. Aided by their companion the Zweihander, all forms of opposition were torn down without a single speck of difficulty to be seen..."
"...Herr Michael, please..." Megumi raised his hand, but his voice was too low for the other man to hear.
"It only makes sense for such powerful soldiers to use a powerful weapon such as the Zweihander. Just take a look at it yourself, its size and girth already screams of a weapon meant for the most arduous of tasks. Indeed, the rich culture of Leithanien have all combined together into this one weapon, and I believe it to be the representation of all Leithanian weapons. Such as how the Sankta have their prized firearms, Leithanien has their prized Zweihander, capable of severing even mountains in their wake...!" Michael cleared his throat for a second, "of course, such an analogy may only be applicable to the Gesatzwachter. But still, you understand my point, correct? Herr Fushiguro."
Fushiguro Megumi was baffled at how much this man could ramble on for—
"Oh, if you wish to know more, the Gesatzwachter are the guardians of the Kurfurst, ready to lay down their lives in order to protect the people who make sure Leithanien is running with all her legs at the ready. I hope this representation of who exactly uses the Zweihanders to their fullest capabilities intrigues your notion upon this weapon—"
"Herr Michael. Please, I do not wish to order or have a Zweihander made..." Megumi spoke with a clear and concise voice, placing a hand over his face. "I have an outline of the weapon I wish to be forged, please, take a look at it." He reached into his black haori with a tired breath, taking out the piece of paper that he sketched in the form of the weapon he wanted the blacksmith to create. Imbuing it with a Cursed Technique would change its appearance to the way he wished it to look like, especially with... "I also have the materials provided to create them, if that lessens the cost of making it."
"Ah, er... huh?" Michael blinked owlishly when hearing Megumi's words, receiving the paper in his free hand. "Y-you don't want a Zweihander?" The man hastily set down his prized Zweihander while unfurling the white piece of paper. "What exactly would you want over such a weapon, Herr Fushiguro?" The Caprinae fully bore sight of what was drawn on it, raising an eyebrow as a result.
"It's a katana, a bit larger than an average one. With its full height taken into consideration, it should reach up to around where my chest is, perhaps slightly lower." Megumi motioned with his hand while explaining the details, "it's a... Higashinese weapon which I want to create. Can you do it?"
"...Would you prefer a Zweihander, Herr Fushiguro?"
"What?" Megumi raised an eyebrow.
"Would you prefer a Zweihander, Herr Fushiguro," Michael repeated once more with a smile. "From the looks of it, this dingy blade doesn't look like it can serve you well in battle."
"No, I wish to have a katana commissioned..." Megumi narrowed his eyes, wondering if he had to do haggle with this man in front of him "...I much rather have a weapon from home, and one that I am familiar with using—"
"Don't be a coward."
"Excuse me...?"
"I said don't be a coward," Michael scoffed, "a Leithanien Zweihander in your own hands, don't you wish to use such a weapon?"
"Herr..." Megumi had never felt this exasperated before. This man was... persistent, far more persistent than the blacksmith back in Primavera, because at least the Liberi man was able to listen to his request. "Please listen to me..."
The rest of the time spent in the blacksmith was one spent on arguing.
***
"Hah~," Megumi breathed out roughly, laying down on his guest bed. The time he had spent outside the Spire was tiring, and he didn't wish to delve on the memory much longer. It was the best option for his health, as stress was never a good thing to have. "I have a Zweihander now. No... it's more accurate to say I was forced to buy it off their hands," the black haired man narrowed his eyes, feeling the object's weight in his shadow.
At the very least, he was still able to get his katana commissioned from the broken parts of the Jet Black Blade. The blacksmith named Michael said that it would be done in about a day, surprisingly. "What a waste of money, though." Megumi felt his lips thin, he didn't even know how to use a Zweihander effectively. With all his other Cursed Tools, they were effective in his hands as he had been training with them for months, and years training their weapon type before entering Terra.
Pardon... before being forced into Terra. Maybe if he wielded the Zweihander like any other large weapon—like Kusanagi-no-Tsurugi, then he would find a use for it. As it stood, his inventory was already bloated with many weapons. That included the new weapon he was going to receive, so the Zweihander was most likely going to rot, only to be used by his Rabbit Escape Shadow Extension clones.
The amount of Cursed Tools he had in his arsenal were to compensate for his lack of physical strength. Megumi was confident that if he didn't have his Cursed Tools, he would have to constantly hide behind his Shikigamis in order to fight extremely strong opponents. It was further made true when he had fought against that black haired man back in Shibuya, where his Rabbit Escape held off better against him than his own hand to hand capabilities.
"Terrans don't possess Cursed Energy either. Unless their Arts or Originium concentration is extremely potent, then I can barely detect them." Megumi thinned his lips in dissatisfaction, "detecting attacks and reacting to them have been harder as a result, because I have to rely purely on physical instinct and senses..." the black haired man sighed.
This was only alleviable by one thing.
Not only that, but the Sorcerer already had enough time to mull over what else he wished to do in regards to increasing his capabilities. His growth had reached a bottleneck which could only be broken through by throwing himself into a life or death situation. As it stands, he needed a way to increase his training speed and efficiency, "and I already have the means to do such a thing."
Megumi closed his eyes and concentrated.
***
Under this Binding Vow:
Condition: Fushiguro Megumi's Output is cut in half and needs further training to restore.
Result: Fushiguro Megumi's Cursed Energy reserves are doubled.
***
Under this Binding Vow:
Condition: Fushiguro Megumi's Cursed Energy reserves are cut in half for the next month.
Result: Fushiguro Megumi's Cursed Energy training progress is doubled for the next month.
***
Under this Binding Vow:
Condition: Fushiguro Megumi can no longer sense the Cursed Energy of other people who possess Cursed Energy.
Result: Fushiguro Megumi's physical senses are enhanced.
***
Under this Binding Vow:
Condition: Fushiguro Megumi cannot detect the souls of people who possess Cursed Energy.
Result: Fushiguro Megumi's sensory of souls is enhanced in all other regards.
***
Under this Binding Vow:
Condition: Fushiguro Megumi cannot bear the burden of adaptation for Eight-Handled Sword Divergent Sila Divine General Mahoraga.
Result: The Shikigamis of the Ten Shadows are now able to bear the adaptation of Eight-Handled Sword Divergent Sila Divine General Mahoraga.
(Note: The conditions of this Binding Vow are interchangeable, just as all other Binding Vows.)
***
Under this Binding Vow:
Condition: Eight-Handled Sword Divergent Sila Divine General Mahoraga now takes two times the amount of rotations upon the Dharmachakra to fully adapt to a phenomenon.
Result: Eight-Handled Sword Divergent Sila Divine General Mahoraga can now adapt to multiple phenomena at a time.
(Note: The summon of Eight-Handled Sword Divergent Sila Divine General Mahoraga via body sacrifice, which has reduced the amount of spins needed for adaptation along with speed of adaptation, still has its effects applied.)
***
Megumi opened his eyes, a new clarity coming to them. A thousand chains clutched at his soul, restricting his breathing and making the Sorcerer clutch his chest. He sprung up from his bed and keeled over, cold sweat starting to form on the pores of his face. A rough breath was let out, a ragged and decrepit one. The Sorcerer was glad he was in his room alone, as anybody would mistake him as having a panic attack...
...Which he was.
"U-ugh...! It's... it's worth it...! I'm sure of it!" Megumi clenched his fist and slammed it against this bed, before pressing his face into the cushion. A small scream was let out, muffled by the material that he was bearing his weight against. "Haha... ha..." The Sorcerer knew it would all be worth it in the end, despite the sacrifices he had to undertake.
What kind of Sorcerer couldn't sacrifice anything for further growth in the future? For Ryomen Sukuna he had sacrificed any humanity in order to further his ideals of becoming the Strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer in History. No... it was more accurate to say he never had any in the first place, which led him to do everything without regret.
What was he lacking? He was lacking in Cursed Energy reserves. Gojo Satoru and Okkotsu Yuta had far deeper wells, and it was by miles that the Sorcerer knew would never be reached. So by doubling them at the cost of the progress he so far had on his Output, then he could alleviate such a problem.
"After all... reserves influence Input... which in turn... hah..." Megumi found it hard to breathe, letting the pain slowly pass, "can improve my... Output." The thing with the Binding Vow that the Sorcerer had decided upon, was that the progress of his Output refinement was cut in half—not that it was cut in half as a whole. So, all he had to do was spend more time training his Output, as increasing its amount was far easier than increasing his reserves.
"Cursed Energy efficiency... I would never touch it in a Binding Vow," he eventually recovered from the pain of chains stabbing into his body, before sitting down on his bed calmly. "Why... does it hurt so much?" Megumi placed a hand over his heart, checking his pulse. It was erratic and intense, like his organ was attempting to claw its way out of his own body. "BInding Vows are uncomfortable to make, just as Gojo-sensei had said before... but then... does it become more painful, the more you add on?" He raised an eyebrow.
Aside from this strange occurrence happening to him, Megumi reviewed all other Binding Vows that he had created. By cutting his reserves in half in one of them, he could then increase the rate of his reserves growing. It wasn't as bad a feeling as when he had to experience them decreasing back in Ursus, as the black haired man had already gotten used to the feeling somewhat. There was also a further added benefit that he would have to focus on allocating his resources more efficiently, making other aspects of training much more effective.
All other ones were... self-explanatory. Terrans didn't possess Cursed Energy, so it didn't matter much whether or not he could sense Cursed Energy in other people. Besides, on the off-chance that he encountered somebody who could utilize Cursed Energy, the Binding Vow was interchangeable. In turn, his physical senses had improved to everything, Cursed Energy and Arts alike. In the first place, there was no need to revert this Binding Vow in any way, as it only provided him benefits in this world.
The ones for Mahoraga... since his body sacrifice could enhance his Shikigamis, then it was guaranteed that all properties of the Divine General had been improved as a result. That meant the amount of rotations needed to fully adapt must have been reduced to some degree, so it wasn't that hard for him to make such a vow. To further add on, by letting his Shikigamis bear the burden of adaptation by removing himself from the equation, then he wouldn't risk himself or Mahoraga sustaining too much damage.
"Interchangeable too... this is the only way I can catch up to them."
***
He was hungry.
Really, it only made sense. His cells have constantly been undergoing destruction and restoration with Reverse Cursed Technique, and doing so as a result had dampened his reserves. Add on with the lack of sleep the black haired man had experienced so far, he finally decided to get out of his room to enjoy a meal at the Spire's dining table. It made him feel personally attacked however, when Cora Lowenstein had looked at him with surprise, as if he would never exit his room.
The Caprinae woman who had only known for a day... Did his temporary exit from the Spire leave that bad of an impression on her? He did leave a letter after all... well, it didn't matter. He wasn't going to be in the Spire for more than a week anyways, as long as nothing major happened of course.
But with Arturia always close to him... Megumi decided to count his days before something 'eventful' happened.
"Troubled as always?" Arturia placed a hand over her mouth when gauging the look placed on Fushiguro Megumi's face. He looked perturbed, "what trouble have you gotten yourself into this time?" She could sense something in the black haired man's shadows, multiple beasts at the ready and sustaining themselves from his strange accursed energy. The woman didn't know what purpose it held, but it was an experience to feel.
"Why do you want to know?" Megumi asked, digging his fork into the piece of steak on his plate, "there's nothing for you to be curious about. In fact, they're matters only relating to myself, and I'd prefer to keep it that way." The black haired man glanced toward his other side, watching as Laurentina happily ate the meal on her plate. From what he had heard, the Sankta and Aegir had been getting along with each other while he was gone. They were words from Cora. 'I can see how that's happening...' he felt a shiver go down his spine, imagining the two smug women chatting happily with each other.
When he turned back to his plate to place the piece of steak into his mouth, Laurentina and Arturia gave each other a perceptible gaze only to themselves, a brief spark forming. However, the moment Fushiguro Megumi turned his head back up after chewing on the meal, they turned back to their own devices.
"...Cora, I would like to ask..." Megumi glanced to the other side of the large dining table. It was covered with a white cloth, an expensive one at that, with an Arts application imbued into it to make it more comfortable "...When will Kurfurst Hochberg return to the Spire?" Before he left Leithanien, he needed to see what his interest in him was, because leaving before he returned would just be in bad taste.
"By the looks of it, tomorrow," Cora said in response, "Kurfurst Hochberg may be inaccessible when he arrives back, however. Matters relating to other countries are tiring ones, I hope you understand."
"Don't worry, I understand." Megumi waved her off, 'it only gives me more time to prepare. I can't mess it up like how I did with Wei Yenwu.' Despite the successful Binding Vow with the Chief Executive of Lungmen, there was still a loophole that the Lung was capable of exploiting. Not only that, but the conversation leading up to it was completely one-sided in the favor of the other man with all the pressure he put on the Sorcerer. The worst part? They were all true.
"Mhm," Laurentina sliced a piece of steak on her plate with practiced movements, "there's no problem with waiting here." The woman popped a piece of the meal into her mouth. It definitely had a better taste than what Fushiguro Megumi could cook... but it certainly lacked the passion and care the black haired man had put into his food. It was that simple aspect that was missing, so she couldn't say she enjoyed eating this meal compared to his. 'Hm? Am I getting too sentimental?' She mutedly laughed to herself.
Arturia had already finished her meal. A fact that even she found strange, especially with how slow the other two were eating their meals. From the looks of it, Fushiguro Megumi and Laurentina were people who get lost in their thoughts. It was from her own view of course, but the fluctuating emotions she had felt from the two also provided ample evidence toward the fact.
'Strangely enough, Fushiguro Megumi here looks as if he has had chains attached to himself.' Arturia kept note of that. The sudden urge to enter his mind became more prominent, to see what change had happened to him. Despite being capable of feeling the emotions of others, delving deeper into their soul required a more direct means of action, especially if it was as dormant as those... chains that were attached to the black haired man. 'Just how much have you tampered with your own soul? Do you see it as a means to an end? A mere subject for your experimentation?'
Such a delicate object entrapped within his body, and yet the man known as Megumi hadn't cared to give as much as a glance to its condition. His emotional state, his mental state, and now the state of his soul itself... there was no doubt about it, he had given up all hope of caring about himself. From what Arturia could see, grasp, and understand; the man with a 'halo' perched above his head had completely let himself loose.
Despite the gleaming light which showed a bright demeanor toward the world, and a divine eminence, it only served to be another mask to place over himself. 'No, no... that isn't accurate to say. Is that wheel truly a mask? It belongs to an entirely different being, one that looks to be content with its existence in the world, as if it had reached... ah... what was the word?' Whenever the Sankta gauged the wheel, it was always something which she found hard to understand. How... how could a mindless beast possess such clarity and free will from the mortal fetters that it almost looked so—beautiful.
Two different things, two different beings. Despite the golden object being attached to Fushiguro Megumi's soul, it didn't represent him to any degree. In fact, it didn't look like it belonged to the black haired man in the first place. A divine light, and an endless shadow, such two substances could never mix. Unless of course, the application of Yin and Yang applied to this man, a belief/thought taught within both Higashi and Yan, holding some significant prominence.
'The once everchanging soul has finally found its place, bathed in a light which does not belong to it, yet belongs to it in all other means.' Arturia tapped her finger against the table, before opening her eyes. The two guests were just about to finish their meals, so she decided to strike up an idea, "Oh, Princess, I've been meaning to ask, have you ever tried your hands on an instrument?"
Megumi hadn't been paying much attention to what was happening around him. However, the moment he had heard the Sankta's words, it was as if his body automatically responded on its own, "I have with a violin." It was a hard-coded nature which had been developed ever since Gojo Satoru would pester him to gain a response. It was only after the passing of a second that he realized he had responded to Arturia.
"Isn't that an interesting fact?" Arturia hummed in response, grabbing her wine cup filled with non-alcoholic grape juice, "it would be lovely to hear you play such an instrument, would you spare a moment of your time to do so?"
Laurentina decided to butt in the conversation, "ah, you know how to play an instrument? You've never told me anything about that." Despite what the Sankta was insinuating, the white haired woman had also found the facet of information learned in that brief moment to be... very interesting. "I believe I'll be partaking in the act of listening too, how does that sound, little angel?"
"Of course, it's completely fine with me," Arturia took a sip of her cup.
Megumi could feel Cora Lowenstein's 'gaze' turn to him despite the woman being blind. For some reason, he didn't like how things were advancing, or how the Caprinae woman was viewing him. Although he hadn't detected much from the gaze—even with his enhanced physical senses—the Sorcerer had already been accustomed to interpreting those actions as a 'judgemental' look.
He didn't even know how to play a violin well. It was just a small thing Gojo Satoru had forced him to do. 'What a headache...' Well, there was no backing out of it now.
***
The music notes were still stuck within Megumi's ears. Having to deal with two rambunctious women was not something he had signed up for when entering Leithanien, but he guessed that was just how things were. Cora was the one who adjusted the instruments, showing great skill with her movements despite her disabilities, implying a large experience with handling such things.
She had then left the room to attend to other matters, leaving the black haired man on his own with the two other women in the room, Laurentina and Arturia. Now, he was used to the former pestering him a few matters, as Fushiguro Megumi could safely say he had gotten used to such antics. The latter though? When she was combined with the Aegir, the Sankta woman proved to be...
...Nevermind, Megumi didn't believe he should continue that line of thought. His body was far too tired from the extraneous actions from today, like having his energy drained in the activities that he was dragged into, negotiating with a blacksmith (over hilariously ridiculous matters) and having the whiplash of multiple Binding Vows chaining his existence together. There were a few Binding Vows he still had interest in... but never found a net positive when thinking of how to apply them in practice.
Right now, he was lacking a severe amount of sleep. Hiding his Shikigamis in his own shadow and keeping their existence at bay while the Binding Vow that decreased his reserves was starting to feel off-putting. Even then, he still had the same exact amount of Cursed Energy as he did before, because of the other Binding Vow which permanently increased them at the cost of his Output.
In regards to souls, his eyes and senses were still getting themselves used to it. In fact, the past few moments have actually shown that his detection of souls had decreased in potency, as his body still hadn't gotten used to the concept of 'souls,' with how abrupt the Binding Vow's influence was. He had to wait for a little, before his body had fully let the effects settle in, bit by bit.
"I wonder... Can I fall asleep while maintaining my Shikigamis?" Megumi's baggy eyes stared out the window of his room. "But don't I also need to contemplate what I need to do next in Leithanien?" He had been informed not too long ago by Cora Lowenstein during one of her monologues—yes, he wasn't even participating in the conversation—about an upcoming Kaiserinnenfest. He wasn't blind about them, seeing as he had two history books relating to the history of Leithanien stored in his shadows.
It was a yearly event commemorating the success of the Septemberrevolution. The day when the Twin Empresses had defeated the Witch King in his own Spire, and when Leithanien was freed from the clutches of his clawed grip. Or that was what he understood of it, however it actually went—was history. There wasn't much to think about, even if it was going to happen in about a month or two. He wasn't going to stay for much longer...
...Or that was what he expected.
Sleep overtook him.
***
What is there for the Sorcerer to do? There wasn't much. Not when he was stuck in the dreaded confines of his mind, feeling all the weight of his insecurities pile up on his body one by one. There were markings marring every part of his body, from his arms, chest, legs, and face. Looking deep into the abyss was like looking into a mirror, with his own reflection gazing back at him with unfettered scorn. It made him watch to scratch at his face, to scrape off the tattoos which have been aligning it inch by inch, to make sure the skin was something he would never see again.
He could already feel it, his claws digging into his soft skin and tearing into his flesh, tearing apart all the fibers which held it together. Then would come the crunching sounds of his muscles forming microtears, before a stream of ichor would leak from it as it would from a battered fruit—perhaps of a crimson sphere known as a 'cherry.' So Fushiguro Megumi did just that, feeling his nails digging deeper and deeper, watching as the only things he could see were his blood shot eyes.
The world around him was like eyes, thousands of them, millions of them! They were all staring at him and laughing, laughing at the failure that he was and what he had amounted to! It was Fate, it was all Fate's fault, for turning him into a clown for their own pleasure, to play him like a toy before his inevitable death! He cursed it, cursed it with his entire being, wishing to scream out in the agonizing voice of his unconscious.
There was something echoing across these confines, not his hollow scream which screeched nothing, but the voice of another. A demon was in this empty room with him, splashing itself across with fervent joy and sadistry, strolling across these wretched lands like how a child would amongst emerald grass of ascending and descending hills. It was a slippery slope, one that Megumi would hate to find himself in, slipping over and over again—eating the dirt below him.
It was agonizing, hearing the laughter of that bastard in his ears. It pierced through every part of skin, it prickled at every single nerve beneath his flesh, and it consistently made him grit his teeth in greater frustration. His eyes were closed, not wanting to see what was in front of him, not wishing to see the demon of Jujutsu Sorcery itself flash its fanged smile at him. Was this the consequence? The one of indulging himself in a wicked crafted art of pure slaughter and destruction?
By using the blades which tore apart bodies of those who were unfortunate to travel in its path, and the flames which incinerated everything in a majestic magenta light, those black markings would always appear on his body. They always faded, and Fushiguro Megumi had always thought he could have powered through them. His body, ached and driven to the ground with the exhaustion of two consecutive days without sleep couldn't focus on any thought without having it stray away.
Now, the consequence for such sleepless nights was to suffer within these blasted cages. The rattling of chains was heard, and all he could do was curl up into a ball, unable to face the millions of starry pools lining the abyss. They dotted everywhere, like shadowed caverns that the man would find himself falling into and being consumed by them, melting in with the obsidian liquid. He continued to gnash his teeth, letting out a pained grunt as he shot his eyes wide open.
He screamed, wretched at the entire world that had made a complete and utter fool of himself—yet at the same time, he was already painting himself as a jester within this painting. Lashing his arms out, swinging at whatever dared approach him, the hysteria brought from this manic episode made him feel like a shell of his former self. No, there was no former self in the first place, just a ragged boy who had nothing, not his parents, not his sister, and not even his friends.
It was all his fault... it was all his fault... it was all his fault that he was stuck in this damned world! And the greatest joke of them all?! He couldn't do anything about it! How hilarious is that, the one time where his actions could have meant something, was when he believed everything was lost! What could have it taken, one extra push, one extra step? To reign in his control over Ryomen Sukuna, to see the light of the next day back in his world...!
Yet here he was, lashing out like a man dancing his limbs haphazardly amongst a laughing circus, the eyes all closing into crescent moons, showing their grand malevolence to him. Those black markings on his skin made his mind more irate, keeping his eyes perpetually wide as he continued to lash out at everything. The laughter only grew louder, reaching a crescendo of sounds that distorted into a devilish growl. They were perpetual, and there was nothing Megumi could do against it.
Soon, his fast and jagged steps came to a halt, his body leaning forward as tears formed in his eyes along with a shadow casting over them. He hurled his upper body forward, wanting to throw up what was in his stomach. However, nothing came, and all he felt was the burning sensation eating away at his organ, leaving what should be sear marks aligning every piece of his intestine.
Megumi moved his hands upward, clamping them against his ears as he shut his eyes again, shaking his head left and right, feeling his brain rattle in his skull and hitting its inner surface. The tender and pale organ made of gray matter continued to slam against its innards, the rough and coarse surface which was supposed to be protecting such a delicate part of his body—but was now acting against it.
"How will you ever..."
That voice, that damned voice! It spoke to him, leered at him, a voice filled with scorn and hilarity, amused at the suffering he had experienced. There was no reason for him to listen to it... so then why, why was it so terrible?! Why did he heed them so well, why did he... why?! Not even a coherent thought could come out of this purgatory he was in, and the suffering man had to question if he had actually died during the battle in Shinjuku—and was now experiencing what Naraka felt like.
"...Be able to face the world again?"
He couldn't! He really couldn't! How was he even standing on his own two feet? How was he pushing through all of these damned events that Fate had played him into? All of the suffering he had faced, all of the fallacies he had committed in the name of protecting himself, all of it held the reasoning of a clown! Once again, he was Fate's greatest clown! Despite what he wanted to say, despite how much he had progressed, he would continue to dance like a marionette, breathing no life as the string continued to be pulled.
His face burned with the tears streaming down, as if his eyes were bleeding out of their sockets. Megumi's vision was blurry, the liquid reaching a temperature he could mistake as lava, as something appeared within his sights. A four-armed beast, one with a mouth at its stomach, and a size which towered over him. They were nothing but a blurry black outline, but the Sorcerer could see the four burning orbs plastered upon its face, a deformation that could never be called a human.
Splashes of black water continued to erupt from each jolt and movement of his legs, the limbs tearing across the landscape with each kick and relentless rage. There were fissures of water formed, liquid flying into the sky with a great show of pure physical strength. The Sorcerer wasn't the greatest when it came to physical attributes, but he certainly surpassed any ordinary man by leaps and bounds.
However, it did nothing to ease the laughter of a malignant being laughing at him, from a plane of existence which the black haired man could access. Away in another world—a much better one—where they had gotten to enjoy a reincarnation filled away from the struggles of another worse one. Megumi screamed out, feeling his rage reach a boiling point. Why? Why was it him? Why was he the unfortunate one to bear the curse of the King of Curses himself?
He cursed his entire existence, he cursed fate, and he cursed this damnable world! There was no reason or logic that could save him, there was no rhyme with the sorrow that he felt... there was only despair and emptiness. At that moment, Megumi fell on his knees, feeling his fists and elbow slam onto the liquid ground, feeling his breath hitch as tears endlessly flowed from his eyes.
His hands dug into the black shadows, falling inwards before he recognized what was happening. Shakily, Megumi put in as much strength as he could to pull it on, gripping his fingers and then pulling his arm out. The splodges of the shadows turned into leering eyes, giving him nothing but their unhidden scorn.
With great effort, he pulled his arms out. His body reeled from the force, causing the black haired man to fall into a seated position, two objects flying outwards from the pits. Megumi blinked once, and then twice. Thrice was when he had recognized what had clamored onto the floor, the rotten and preserved object rotating across the liquid ground, presenting itself before his eyes.
Decadent, malignant, malevolent.
The four eyeless holes stared at him from the aged red flesh and muscles, the unnatural shape of the skull giving them their shape. It was soulless, the gaping teeth only possessing a monotonous scorn that bore its hatred towards the world, an endless vengeance which had been fulfilled ages ago—of times long since past.
The turmoil of black shadows suddenly halted amongst the world Fushiguro Megumi had found himself in. All eyes turned their attention to it, the endless domain of them widening their eyes at its presence. There was no longer any laughing, nor a single utterance from the mouth filled with nothing but scorn, as if in reverence toward the unknown object.
No... it wasn't unknown at all. Enigmatic was the furthest thing from what the Sorcerer understood of it, for he was the most familiar anybody could ever be to the torture it brought. It was a head of an ancient relic long since deceased in the Heian Era, consumed by the acids of his stomach, and becoming one with his body. So was the body the soul, and so was the soul the body, Megumi had found himself at a loss.
The second object was an arm, delicate and pure, one that should have belonged to an angel who had attempted to help him. It was his weakness that it was torn off, reducing their capabilities and eviscerating any chances of him ever being brought back out from his dredged soul.
An impasse formed between his mind and body. The mind rejected all which it was made of, while the body sought to preserve what made it—what provided it. At this notion, he had felt something in his head snap, like the tensile strings of a bridge finally breaking apart from decades of wear and tear.
He grasped at his face, and echoed a hollow scream.
***
He awoke in the dead of night, grabbing at his chest while cold sweat poured down from his forehead and face, and then down his neck like a calculated flow of a river. Heaving in and out, the pressure entered and exited his chest at fast intervals, making his heart beat even faster than he could have imagined. It was to the point where he reinforced the organ with Cursed Energy, afraid it would burst and leave an internal hemorrhage that would be hard to recover.
Stress was never a good thing for normal human beings, but strangely enough, it was good for Jujutsu Sorcerers. Breathing out a frustrated sigh, Megumi sat at the edge of the bed, attempting to regain his bearings. Even if stress was good for Cursed Energy levels to fluctuate to a higher degree, it still remained that it wasn't good for combat if the mind is constantly occupied by an outside force.
...Why was he applying this to combat?
"Tch," Megumi clicked his tongue, shaking his head while pressing his elbow against his knee. Covering his face with a groan, a splitting migraine coursed through the hemispheres of his brain, making him wish to go back to sleep. However, staring in the darkness of his room only made his fears grow, going back to a nightmare with those millions of eyes staring back at him was not something he wished to do.
'Why... why am I getting them now, all of a sudden...?'
Dreams were the accumulation of one's experience, usually based on recent events that had happened during a day. However, his recent dreams have always been dreamless, only brief flashes of memories pertaining to his home, but never long and drawn out ones such as before. 'Sleep, I was lacking sleep wasn't I?'
He had been combatting his lack of sleep with Reverse Cursed Technique, but even for such a technique—especially since he wasn't Gojo Satoru—it wasn't the end all be all of his problems. Now he was facing the burden at full force, without any Black Flashes to grant him an epiphany or high.
He continued to wince, placing a hand on his head and hurriedly ruffling his hair as a result. Glancing upwards, Megumi stared at the window blinds which were slightly open, his vision providing a clear sight to the outside view. The city of Sturmland was still awake despite the passing hours of night having already crept in,
It was a bountiful view provided for the eyes, one only fitting for a towering Spire such as this, a structure holding enormous power in this entire city, and by extension the whole of Leithanien. Kurfurst Werner very likely had his occupation cut out for him, especially with the way he approached matters relating to politics.
Megumi didn't know what to think about the country, because he had only recently come to this place. Pressing a palm against his face to further alleviate the migraine, the Sorcerer thought about his next course of action. There wasn't much for him to do in this new country other than to aimlessly roam around, just like how he had done in any other place. 'Really, am I just hoping for a miracle at this point?' In fact, what did travelling even do for him? Perhaps it was just a distraction while he attempted to find any way that could bring him back home, or perhaps it could... it could...
...
He didn't know.
He never knew.
Not once did that ever change.
The night was not comforting, and neither were the warm sheets of his bed. All there was before him was the closed window, the blinds unswaying at the absence of an outside force, leaving Fushiguro Megumi to stare at it in silence. He begged, he prayed, he hoped... that one day, all would become clear to him.
But that was just wishful thinking.
...So then hours passed.
The Star of Terra came upwards, blinded by a storm's fog.
Megumi continued to stare at the window.
Four eyes stared back.
***
"What is this little game you're playing?" Laurentina crossed her arms and leaned against the wall, giving a neutral stare toward Arturia. There was no inflection in her voice, and the crimson light coming from her eyes declared only bloodlust. "I've heard from him how that instrument of yours works, so don't even try anything, little angel."
"My, I have no clue what you're talking about," Arturia smiled softly, twiddling with the strings of her cello. However, no sound came out with how small her movements were, "I simply wish to play my music to drum the strings of his heart, what is there not to understand?"
"Hah~! You should listen to what you say yourself," Laurentina rolled her eyes with sass. "Your intentions are obvious." The Abyssal Hunter narrowed her eyes, grinning and showing off her sharp shark teeth, "count your lucky stars, I don't believe Princess would want me to make a blood painting out of you."
The brisk wind picked up from the balcony where they stood. The afternoon sun starting to set to the embrace of the night produced an orange light which mixed with an aureate flounder. There was a halo behind Arturia as she stood at the epicenter of such an event, for the sun shone itself only for her.
"Aren't you quite cruel~?" Arturia drummed the strings of her cello without much of a reaction to the other woman's words, "of course, it must be hard to balance between two emotions everyday, to keep—"
Laurentina dashed forward, leaving a reverberating boom in her wake, a tiara of air made from the power of her movements. Immediately, her left hand was against the Sankta's throat, caressing it 'softly,' before her fingers dragged against her skin, "you should keep your eyes to your own mind, you know that?" She spoke sweetly, bringing her face closer.
"You'd do the same if you were curious," The Sankta leaned in to the motion of the other, greeting the widened eyes of the Aegir, "so would you want to cause more troubles for your Princess? Go ahead, slit my throat if you so please." Arturia smiled.
"Is that so?"
Click
Their brief lull of an intense staredown had come to an immediate halt when the door to the large balcony had opened, revealing the person behind it. The person was Fushiguro Megumi, the black haired man pausing in his steps and holding a perplexed look when gauging the scenery. From his sights, Laurentina and Arturia had turned to him, the latter leaning into the other with her hands touching her throat, while their faces looked to be inches apart, right before what looked to be a...
"...Sorry." Megumi replied, shutting the door.
Laurentina and Arturia were stuck staring at where he had left from.
***
The next day came.
Cora Lowenstein walked amongst the flowered gardens, plastered with various colors denoting the exotic sequences of greenery. This was only natural for a Spire as rich as one belonging to the Kurfurst of Sturmland. Despite the many storms which passed through the city, the garden remained persistent despite the harsh rain and furrowing winds, withstanding the constant test of time it had to undergo.
There were a few sculptures laid around, all in patterns of three. It gave more life to the garden, with the various expressions and motions of the stone structures forming what looked to be a scene of tragedy. It was ironic to the woman when she had first heard of their purpose from the now deceased gardener, that they were supposed to grant life to this place, but they were nothing but stone.
Compared to the plants and flowers which emitted life itself, they weren't anything that should be placed amongst these natural occurrences of nature. But alas, she couldn't see such sights anymore, the only ones the Caprinae remembered from her childhood leading up to where she was at—were the many instruments created for war.
"Frau Lowenstein."
Cora's steps stopped, hearing a voice call out to her. She was familiar with it, how couldn't she be? When one of the sculptures spoke out to her, it was obvious what it wanted. "It's been a long time since you've messaged me, what is on your mind this time?" She turned toward where the sound was coming from. Although the woman couldn't tell what specific expression the sculpture was making, it must be horrendous.
"Werner von Hochberg has returned to his Spire, hasn't he?"
"He has," Cora replied without a tone, "the recent dealings outside of Sturmland has left him exhausted. He is currently residing in his abode to stave off the lethargic feeling, and slight change in time zones."
"What of the two guests?"
"They are scheduled to have an audience with him once his lethargy has passed by," Cora continued.
"Is there a Gesatzwachter present?"
"No."
"...Good, then we will use the two guests as scapegoats."
"Don't you believe we are pushing this too fast?" Cora felt a small bead of sweat forming at the base of her neck, but kept her calm. "How are you sure this will pan out as you expect?"
"We have insiders. Many insiders. Some mere many guests from outside will not change anything, in fact, they will provide a safety net for us."
"Should I clarify that I am not confident in my assessment?"
"Even if there is a Gesatzwachter present, then we are still confident in capturing or killing Werner von Hochberg in spite of their presence."
"...I understand," Cora closed her eyes and folded her hands across each other. "At what time will you strike?"
"Midnight. The perfect time."
"Understood, what shall I do?"
"You needn't do anything. Save your role for when the Kaiserinnenfest happens, we have ample means to frame you out of the limelight."
Her index finger impatiently tapped the back of her hand, before she nodded, "I believe that should settle everything?"
"Indeed."
There was not another word spoken. Cora let out a frustrated breath, before realizing what she had to do next. Working as she was now would risk her position to the Echoes of Herkunftshorn, so all she could do was feed half-truths and lies to them. Turning upward to look at the tower, the Caprinae woman calculated multiple options in her head, before one settled to her. Hopefully, Brandt Reiner would know what to do, with the implicit message she would send to the man.
'I pray this does not escalate further,' but that was merely a hopeful thought.