There were pictures in the air, but they showed me things I didn’t want to see.

Family and friends, abandoned again. My choices relieved, but always... the wrong ones.

Over and over again. I didn't know what to do.

So I… ran. I never had a chance.

I screamed and the pictures broke. The world shattered through a rupture in the sky and I fell.

I became lost on an island alone in an ocean, filled only with glass. Shards of dreams long since lost.

There was something there, waiting for me. It swirled around me like a mist, hugging close as we danced. It whispered sweetly in my ear, promising freedom from pain if only I listened. One simple command is all it gave me.

Don’t open your eyes.

Obey, and I will be protected. Shielded with loving arms from what lays within.

A twisting mass of rotting ideals and decaying hope, seeded by a poisoned promise.

And I listened.

I cut myself on broken dreams, and bled out. I’m sorry I gave in. I’m sorry…

I don’t know if I’ll remember what I saw, but I’ll scream it for as long as I can.

Because I saw… her.

There's still time to save her.

I just—

It blinds me once more.

----------------------------------------

Jordan woke, but his eyes remained closed. He was tired, mentally at least, even though his body seemed full of energy. Instinctively, he gripped the calloused old hand holding his until he mustered the wherewithal to open his eyes.

“W-what… happened Sofu? Did I… fail?”

Jordan was lying in bed, but not a familiar Brat’s bed. This one seemed to be a simple, straightforward piece, with light wooden posts, white sheets on the mattress, and a big sky-blue blanket up top. Aside from its fuzziness, it was the kind of thing past-Jordan would have approved of given how thin it was.

The old man, sitting in a chair slumped next to the bed, jerked up a little. He’d clearly fallen asleep again.

“Er—wha? Aury? Aury! Hey, hey there. You’re okay now, don’t you worry.” A few more hands joined the one holding Jordan’s, patting encouragingly.

“What happened?” Jordan asked again.

Rahm cocked his head to the side. “You… don’t remember?” He was still wearing his kimono from the ritual, though it looked burnt and torn up.

“No…?” Jordan replied. “The last thing I remember we were on the last, er, stage? I think that's the word you were using. The last stage of the spirit attribute thing. Then something… happened? And you were shouting and then it all went dark.”

“Oh, I… see.” The old man leaned back in his chair, leaving only the original hand to hold Jordan. He seemed upset?

Or was it... disturbed.

“What happened, Sofu?” Jordan asked a third time.

The old man shook his head. “I, ah, I don’t think I can tell you. I’m sorry Aury.”

“What? Why not? Just tell me what happened, that isn’t hard!”

“Alright… I’ll try. Please, well… let’s just see how this goes I guess.” He looked… sad? Jordan wasn’t sure why, but when he started to explain—

----------------------------------------

Jordan awoke, and his eyes fluttered. He was tired, mentally at least, even though his body seemed full of energy. Instinctively, he gripped the calloused old hand holding his until he mustered the wherewithal to look around.

“W-what… happened Sofu? Did I… fail?”

Jordan was lying in bed, but not the one he’d grown accustomed to lately. This one seemed plain, if unimpressive. Light wooden posts, white sheets a bit messed up around him, and a sky-blue fuzzy blanket shoved to the side. Jordan approved of that—he could only assume he would’ve been far too warm with it covering him.

The old man was sitting next to Jordan, bent over in his chair looking pensive. Had he been hovering over Jordan worriedly this whole time?

“Sofu? Are you okay?” Jordan asked.

“You don’t remember what happened, do you.” The way the old man phrased it didn’t even sound like a question to Jordan.

“No…?” Jordan replied. “The last thing I remember we were on the last, er, stage? I think—”

“Yes, the last stage of the Spirit Attribute.” The old man interrupted. Completely needlessly in Jordan’s opinion.

“Well, fine then, what happened?” Jordan asked the eleventh second time.

“You blacked out on the last stage, but managed to complete it enough that I was able to guide you through the rest. You succeeded Aury. Good job.”

Rahm seemed distracted with his statement. Flat even. There was also… a lack of thumbs up that Jordan kind of felt was finally warranted.

“Sofu… is everything alright? You don’t seem, er, happy?” Had Jordan screwed something up?

The old man breathed deep as he finally leaned back into his chair, one errant hand rubbing at his temple, while two folded across his chest. The last one remained holding Jordan’s hand, which Jordan realized to his chagrin, he’d been squeezing rather tightly. He loosened his grip before he broke something.

“I’m fine Aury. Just… worried about you, that’s all.”

“But I’m fine now… right?” Jordan did not want to learn that all of this crap had been for nothing.

“You are, but…” Rahm seemed to fish for something to say. Jordan narrowed his eyes at the old man suspiciously. What was he not saying? Rahm eventually said, “As good as it is that you’ve got your Core Attributes up to the [E] Rank, the fact that I did most of the work will hinder you in the future.”

“Hinder me?” Jordan asked, a little too shrilly for his own liking. “How so?”

“Well… bypassing all of the training needed to cultivate now, means you’ll have to learn it all when you want to grow to Level Two in the future. By then it’ll be more difficult as well.”

“Oh… so we kind of, kicked the can down the road?” Will that saying translate?

Rahm nodded solemnly. “That’s a good way to put it.”

Sweetness, it totally did! Jordan internally rejoiced.

“However—there’s a good chance the fact that you didn’t work to cultivate will be used by the Academic Review Board as a mark against you.”

“Oh for fu—errr, really!?”

“I’m sorry Aury. They judge based on one’s own accomplishments, and frankly speaking, I did most of the work yesterday.”

Yesterday? Great, it really did take all damn night.

“But, that was still super freaking hard! Will they really… disregard me just for that?”

“Disregard you? No, it will just be a mark against you, that’s all. Given that you have a self-imposed time limit and have no other options available but to rely on the contacts and allies around you, they’ll still give you a fair shake. You’ll just need to make up for this in other fields.”

“Wait, they’ll care about my time limit?” That seemed odd to Jordan. Why would his life’s circumstances matter to a bunch of stuffy academics?

“Of course.” Rahm nodded. “What they want to measure is the quality of a person, and their likelihood of becoming an Immortal. Or, failing that, distinguished service in His Majesty’s Forces. The goals and aspirations of their applicants is almost more important to them than anything else. Someone who came to their institution asking only for power, for the sake of power, would be most at risk of being disregarded than someone seeking freedom, like you.”

Jordan just scratched at his head in response. I don’t really get why they’d care at all, but whatever. It is a game world, so maybe it’s all about heroic motivations or somesuch? While he pondered, he noticed his arm was a bit bare, going all the way to his new—

“W-what happened to all my clothes? Why am I nearly naked, old man!” Jordan accused loudly into the room, burning crimson in his tightly fitting, belly-exposing shirt and smallclothes.

The old man huffed in response. “They burned off, girl. And you’re covered up now—I even had Kioko handle cleaning you so don’t give me that look.”

Jordan froze the look he was mid-process of giving, and with a bit of effort, turned away grumbling. That reminded him that he still didn’t really understand what all had been going on with that ‘cultivation’ crap.

“What was up with those weird visions, anyway?”

“The reflections of your being? That’s part of what the Core Realm is. An encapsulation of all that you are—an inner reflection of the choices you’ve made, are making, or are likely to make.”

“Was that all normal then? For cultivation?”

“Quite.” Rahm nodded. “Likely made more intense by certain… factors as well as the situation I forced you into without warning. It’s not meant to be endured all at once.”

“Yeah, thanks for that.” Jordan deadpanned.

“You’re most welcome, Aury.” The old man happily replied. Damn old geezer. “Beyond that, you can think of what you saw as a taste of what’s to come when you formulate your Class. It’s partly why I… well it’s good what you saw now was difficult. You’ll need the experience.”

“Wait, I’ll have to do those… vision things again?” Jordan didn’t like the sound of that.

“Yes.” He replied. “Once your Pattern is strong enough to sustain the image you wish to imprint upon it, you’ll return to your Core Realm and embrace it. That’s what it means to constitute your Class.”

“Huh?” That makes fuck-all sense.

“Remember the Crowns, Aury? The Concepts laid within them?”

Jordan nodded. He’d thought back to it several times, in fact. It’d been a really useful tool. Wait… was that why he was giving to charity? To prompt me into stopping for a currency lesson? Jordan pondered.

“Constituting a Class,” Rahm said, “means imposing a Concept within yourself. Levels are a measure of your path of progress towards that Embodiment.”

“So… wait, why don’t I have a class now? Couldn’t we have just slapped something on me while I was in there?”

Rahm shook his head, hair banging against itself like drum sticks. “No, it isn’t possible for someone to force a Concept, and thus a Class, onto someone else. It’s like Contracts in that regard—if you don’t accept it, then it can’t become part of you. Even trying could destroy you.”

“Then why didn’t you have me do it then?”

“Like I said, your Pattern wasn’t strong enough. Reinforcing it with Experience by learning Skills and creating Specialties as foundations for your Concept is required. You’d have shattered irreparably had we tried.”

“Oh. That sounds fun.” Jordan sardonically replied. He decided to change the subject, however. “What happens at Max Level anyway?”

It was something Jordan had always been curious about. The way people online talked, sometimes it sounded like the actual game for HMIA didn’t even start until you hit the Immortal ranks.

“Well, not everyone tries to maximize their level. In fact, most Ascend before they reach it.”

“Ascend? You mean become Immortals?”

Rahm shook his head, again torturing the air with the banging of his hair. “Immortality is reached at Level Seven. At that point, and any past it, an Immortal can visit the Jade Empress and Ascend into Heaven. However, we are encouraged to pursue our highest Level, which is Level Twelve—as the more pure we are when we reach Heaven’s light the more our rewards ever after will be.”

“Er… oh, right. The, ah, whole belief system. I’d forgotten about that.” Rahm just cocked his head curiously, but Jordan rolled his eyes.

Cultivation often was, in stories like HMIA and all that, a path not just to immortality but to ‘purity.’ Cleanse the sins of your souls and become heavenly beings and all that Daoist stuff. Jordan believed in it about as much as he did in Christianity.

But as he was about to scoff and disregard it... he paused. “When you say Ascend to heaven… do you really mean it, or is that only a metaphor or belief?”

Heaven… couldn’t actually be real. Right?

“I mean literally, physically Ascending to Heaven, Aury. I’ve even seen the Gate, though I chose not to walk through it yet. Heaven is a real Expanse that exists outside our own, and every Soul reincarnates and tries again and again to purify itself enough to Level up and reach its redeeming light.”

“Oh for fuck’s sakes…” Jordan didn’t want to think about this right now. He didn’t want to think about being wrong about the freakin’ afterlife! No! It just—

“W-wait, what about us? Didn’t the… er, nope still can’t say that damn word and one day I’ll remember that. Didn’t the justiciar, or whatever, say that Demonkin didn’t get to do that? We go somewhere else?”

Was there… no way for Jordan to go to heaven?

“Technically speaking, it is possible for Demonkin to find redemption. To date, however, none have used Asurias for that. Demons have transformed the entire Realm into a, well… living hell I suppose you could call it. So, practically speaking? No. I’m afraid not.”

“Oh joy.”

It figured. It really figured that the moment, the unlikely, far-flung, impossible moment that Jordan, for once in his life, for even a glimmering second, considered believing in heaven he’d be told… he couldn’t go there.

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Life, and its after-life reflection, just wasn’t fair it seemed.

“So… what’s the point of leveling up if you're a Demonkin? Why bother?” Jordan asked, hoping for a response better than ‘it makes you more powerful.’

“There is a belief among the Demonkin that if one can overcome the Level Six Barrier and become the new Maou, they could redeem the Race. They could open the way for the rest to follow.”

“…Demonkin are looking for a savior figure?” Oh wonderful, somehow worse than I thought.

“I suppose you could put it that way, so sure.” He shrugged twice over.

“What exactly is the Maou, anyway?”

“The Demon King? He was the first, and only, Demonkin to break past the Level Six barrier. Then, when he visited the Jade Empress he, well… he turned around. He rejected her and Heaven’s light, and waged war to control Ænerith.”

“Oooooh, that’s why Maou sounded familiar. Demon King, eh? Great, really is a fantasy world now… even if it is a stupid game.” Jordan grumbled out loud.

Rahm raised an eyebrow and Jordan tried to cover up his slip with the first thing that came to mind.

“So, ah, why did that girl I got the heart from even try to do her apotheosis thing, anyway? Didn’t dad say that she didn’t have any levels? If I couldn’t get a Level One Class from all of what we just did, how was she supposed to level up and become the new Maou, or whatever?”

The old man shifted uncomfortably. “It’s believed parts of the Maou are still out there. He was never defeated, you see… only sealed away. Part of the reason that Demonkin can’t break the Level Six Barrier is because his Soul visits them. Challenges them. She found a way to harness that instead.”

“Wait, how did you beat him then? And why aren’t you the next Maou?”

“Aury, I’m not a Demonkin.”

Oh. That was… probably obvious, wasn’t it? Goddamnit, Jordan thought.

“But how are you related to me then? Is it possible to have multiple races in the same family?”

“It is, though in our case it’s a bit more special. I’d rather not get into it right now.”

Jordan wanted to press why, but realized Rahm wasn’t smiling again. He hadn’t since Jordan had woken up.

Something really is bothering him, isn’t it?

“O-okay. Well, so… how long was I out anyway? And when are we going back?”

“Not long.” Rahm shrugged noncommittally twice over. “The Phoenix Feather had the benefit of wiping out all the Strain you were suffering, and even healing your Damage. Useful thing for a Demonkin like yourself. Still, it's late morning now and we’ll be heading back this evening.”

“So it’s really only the next day? It hasn’t secretly been a week or anything?”

“Hey, I told you it would be a quick trip! Have I ever lied to you before?” He asked, faux hurt all over his damn wrinkled face.

“…” Jordan’s stare said it all. This wasn’t even the first time Rahm had asked that!

“Eha, anyway,” Rahm said, clearing his throat, “I’m going to go out for a little R&R while we’re up here. I’ll be back before sundown, but I’ll leave Kioko here with you. You’re just in one of the spare rooms off the main floor, so head out when you feel up for it.”

He patted Jordan’s hand reassuringly, trying to smile. It seemed… forced though.

“You, ah, aren’t just going to go get drunk and forget we’re up here are you?” Jordan said with a chuckle.

The old man froze in an instant, his hair getting somehow more spiky in his alarm. Jordan had meant it as a joke, but was now very worried.

“W-what? Of course not! It’s… just a little Ambrosia. No big deal! I’ll be back before you know it!” And without a moment’s more hesitation he jumped up, knocking the chair backwards, and was sprinting out the door, dumb grin plastered on his face.

Jordan stared at the closing, more western style portal. He wanted to chase the damn old man and kick him in the shin until he swore on his life he wasn’t going to leave them there for eternity! But there was a distinct… lack of materials needed to leave the room.

So instead, Jordan screamed furiously.

“What about my damn clothes!? Rahm? SOFU!”

Jordan also realized that in this Realm… he hadn’t seen any Sun to go down, and that was when he said he’d return.

The old man was coming back, right?

----------------------------------------

About half an hour later, Jordan was pretty sure he’d graduated to becoming a Jedi.

Not for any magical, Force-related reasons sadly, but purely for the white, billowing-hooded robe he now wore wrapped around him. He still didn’t have pants, however, which slightly ruined the image in his mind, but it still beat a dress.

“Eck.” Jordan said, for the… sixth time? Seventh? He didn’t know.

“Hey, you said you wanted the Sustenance Potion instead of my cooking, so no complaining brat.” Kioko said, probably for the eighth time. She was being… surprisingly patient with him today.

“I-I know… thanks. I just wish it didn’t taste so… blegh.”

Kioko snorted lightly in reply. “You’re handling it better than most. Damn things are so… bland, I guess you’d say, that most folks can barely stand them. I suppose missing out on normal food your whole life gave you an edge there, right? Ho ho ho!”

Jordan stared at the mirthful cat-girl. “Great, I have the superpower of being able to drink the blandest drinks imaginable with only moderate levels of complaining.”

“Hey, don’t knock it. Strange as it sounds, being able to stomach those could be a mark in your favor for getting into that Academy of yours. I’ve seen grown men break down crying when they’ve been forced to drink it for a week straight.”

“Wait, seriously? I know this is, like, blegh and all, but breaking down? Really?”

Kioko shook her head sadly. “The closest you’ve gotten to real food is that tea I acc—er, you happened to have. I mean, you remember how potent that was, right? Imagine eating food that good your entire life. How well would you handle ‘blegh’ then?” Her ears flattened adorably with her ‘blegh’ noise, Jordan noted, suppressing the squeal in his throat.

Instead, he opened his mouth to protest, but then closed it. He finished his potion of ‘blegh’ and said, “Fair point I guess.”

The past potions hadn’t seemed as bad, but he’d been more exposed to Essence lately. Plus he’d had an old man forcing him to chug the damn things, so that had probably played a major part in it.

“Anyway,” Kioko said, “all this talk has me hungry for something of actual substance. I’m going to go make something, feel free to howl at me if you need something. Though fair warning if you literally howl like a Wolfborn I’m liable to throw something at you.”

Kioko smiled sweetly, before jumping up lightly and heading into the kitchen. It wasn’t far, and Jordan could literally stare at her working, but the occasional wisp of magic-looking smoke and sparking flashes from mystical-looking kitchen ware left no doubt in his mind she was fully concentrated on her task.

Instead he occupied himself with looking around the room. Rahm had left in a hurry and hadn’t bothered to clean up his stash of items he’d unceremoniously dumped out onto the main table the day before. Jordan was… once again deeply irritated at how potential valuables were just left out like that.

The chest they’d come in was still just sitting there! Jordan debated tidying up, but… there was a lot strewn about. A dozen or more vials and glass containers with liquids, all of them glowing one color or another, with symbols and phrases woven onto their surfaces. Usually with precious metals, with gold and silver being most prominent. It reminded Jordan of looking at high level potions for various games—the more intricate the bottle, the more powerful the potion, and this was the ‘secret’ stash of an Immortal, right?

Besides those, were a slew of varied items. His two favorites were a broken-off spear tip that gave off a faltering, slow strobe light and a cracked hammer missing half its head. Thing practically looks like Mullneer. Mjuulniere… Mjoll… T-thor’s hammer.

Jordan also saw a bracer with empty gem-slots looking like it had been raided, a few bracelets, amulets, and rings. One black looking one gave a very ‘one ring to rule them all’ vibe.

Eventually Kioko re-joined him, sitting at the table with a steaming plate of wondrous-smelling food. Her dish primarily consisted of a giant chunk of steak, still sizzling with dripping globs of meat that sparkled with that otherworld magical glow food seemed to have in the HMIA world.

It was perfectly charred, but Jordan had no idea how the tiny cat-girl was going to eat it. The damn thing was half the size of her familiar! Instead of digging in, she first focused on a cup of tea next to her mountain of food. Jordan knew it was tea, if just because she had a strainer filled with tiny leaves steeping into it.

“What, no booze for you today?” Jordan said with a laugh. It sounded more accusatory than he’d wanted, which made him wince internally, but he was still kind of ticked off over the events of the last two days.

Kioko glared back before growling, “Ungrateful brat.”

“What do you mean ungra—listen I was just, er, trying to be… personable? Sorry if that came off rude, I didn’t mean it.”

She eyed him warily, before shrugging. “Er, yeah I guess that makes sense in your position. Still, I was only chugging that crap so I’d have an applicable Essence to draw on to help you learn that Skill, you know.”

“Um… no, I didn’t know? How would I have known you weren’t just a drunkard?”

“…you really thought I was just getting hammered for no reason?” She looked at him like he was the mad one here!

“Well, you could have been celebrating, you know, us coming to get you. Or something.”

She scoffed as she finished with her tea. Setting it aside, she cut off a small chunk of the supersized steak and fed it to Charlie, who dashed away with it mewling appreciatively. Jordan squealed softly at the sight of the familiar’s ridiculously bulging cheeks, before tearing his eyes away from the Avatar of Cute to glare back at the cat-girl.

She spoke first, however. “Listen, there are many ways to cultivate yourself, which includes how one goes about learning Skills. No matter what method you use, though, you’ve got to supply the necessary energy to shape yourself, got it? It takes energy to apply your Experience.”

Jordan’s blank look made it clear to Kioko that he didn’t get it. She shoved a piece of steak in her mouth, chewing angrily as she glared at him, before eventually sidelining it to the side of her cheek to speak to him. It was… distracting on many levels, not least of which were the etiquette alarms firing off vicariously for the woman speaking with her mouth full.

“Seriously did you think the whole ritual thing that went on yesterday was just for show?”

Jordan, resisting the deep urge to take a napkin and wipe at her chin, responded, “Er, well are all cultivation sessions that intense? Or need that big of a ritual?”

She swallowed, putting Jordan at ease, and said, “Of course not. No idiot would try to do all five stages of all four Core Attributes at once. Well, other than the Master, I guess. And as for that big of a ritual? Not even, that was serious overkill for a Rank [E]. That was the kind of thing an Immortal uses.”

Right, that colossal sledgehammer analogy thing she used yesterday. “So, what did you use exactly to help me learn that stup—er, the skill you were kind of enough to share.” Jordan corrected his language and tone as Kioko lifted her knife dangerously at his words. Mollified with his response, she turned it to her steak instead and took another bite.

After a moment of chewing, and with renewed horror for Jordan, she stuffed a cheek again before saying, “In our case I just used a variation of Training Hypnosis to guide you through it. I don’t have all the best Skills for something like that, hence why I had to rely on lots of external Essence through the use of Spirits, but we mostly got you through it.”

“Hypnosis? I don’t remember you hypnotizing me.”

“Yeah, it’s not the best way to train Skills since that method doesn’t allow students to follow along with the process, but its ease-of-use makes it popular. Most Trainers use something like a guided meditation, or actual Training Hypnosis, to do it. As for not remembering, that’s on you brat.”

Jordan ground his teeth in response. She’d just had him sit down on a rock and then asked him if he was willing to learn the Skill. When he’d said yes he… didn’t really remember much past that. Was that when she’d begun? It had just all flown by him. He’d only thought something was strange about it now.

He opened a mouth to protest, but then closed it. Considering how harrowing the whole cultivation event had been, was he really going to complain that skill training was handled like he’d imagined it was in-game? Go up to a trainer, ask to learn a skill, sit down for a few hours that flash by, and bam! You’ve got it?

“Okay, thanks for telling me. Though, I still would have appreciated it if you’d… well, told me how bad the skill actually was before I learned it.”

Kioko laughed a bit, choking slightly in the process before guzzling some tea to wash down the steak chunks hanging about. “If I had you wouldn’t have learned it, and probably had the Experience wasted as it was.”

Jordan nodded. He could understand that, even if he did have buyer’s remorse. He’d resigned himself to grabbing what he could, when he could, after all.

Instead, he turned his attention back to the table of wonders as Kioko busily attacked her steak. “Er, should we do something about all these?” He motioned towards a small gem busy rotating on its spot inexplicably. She cheeked the next bite to answer him.

“Hmm, well I don’t think it really matters too much. Most of this just looks like Essence fodder to be honest.”

Jordan raised an eyebrow and said, “And that means what exactly?”

Kioko stared at Jordan for a long while, a mixture of emotions dancing on her face—irritation and … pity? It wasn’t exactly encouraging to see, so Jordan snapped at her, “What!?”

“Er,” she took a moment to swallow and comport herself. “S-sorry, anyway all it means is that these can be used as Essence sources. You can use them in Rituals or for various magical Skills if you require a specific type of Essence for the effect and don’t want to go through the hassle of transmuting Essence.”

“Even these broken ones?” Jordan went to poke at the Mjölnir-lookalike, but Kioko hissed warningly. He withdrew quickly.

“Yeah, but careful around those. They’re still Artifacts, even if they’re damaged they can be dangerous.” She took another dramatic bite as she stared at Jordan menacingly.

Better that look than Pity, I guess. Jordan still wasn’t sure what was up with her attitude, but at least she was being nicer than yesterday. Had she just finally cooled off? Or was it due to whatever happened at the end of his cultivation? Which, as Jordan thought about it, Rahm still hadn’t explained what’d happened.

“Hey, do you know what went on at the end, yesterday? I asked Sofu but he just said I blacked out. Did he hypnotize me like you did?”

“Yes! Exactly that, g-good catch!” She shot him a double thumbs up, accidently hurling a piece of meat into the living room. It was intercepted by a very excited Charlie.

Ah… okay, that answer is sus as hell. What the fuck? “Er, are you—”

“Hey!” Kioko snapped as she smacked at the table. She pointed a finger at Jordan and said… nothing?

“Er…ah, how about we… talk about something else? Ah, Ho ho ho!” She rubbed at the back of her head sheepishly, acting about as subtle as a Catella with natto.

“…” Jordan stared haughtily back at her, before snapping, “You know you’re acting crazy right?”

“Crazy? You’re calling me crazy?” She trailed off saying, “Now that’s a real laugh…”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Look it's not like I’m asking for the impossible here! I just thought since you were standing next to us staring at the whole thing, or whatever, you would have some input on what happened? If you don’t know you can just say that, but you sound like you’re fucking covering shit up!”

Her face remained blank and contemplative, but her tail swished in clear cat-annoyance. “Fine,” she responded. “I don’t know what happened. Can we talk about something else now?”

“Why are you so anxious to avoid the topic? I wouldn’t even care if you weren’t so weird about it!”

Her hackles rose, a sight that would have likely produced another traitorous squeal from Jordan if his own metaphoric hackles hadn’t risen.

“Look brat,” she said, jabbing her fork towards Jordan ominously. “I’m trying to be considerate here towards you and your Conditions, so stop busting my ass over this crap, okay? Let it go and let’s talk about something else!”

“Fine!” Jordan responded, jabbing his own finger accusatorily at her, “Let’s start by talking about how fucking ins—”

“H-hey, are you okay? Snap out of it. Oh, Devas, Master is going to kill me…” Kioko was kneeling next to Jordan, hands wrapped protectively around his torso. He looked at her confused, especially to see Charlie curling in his lap trembling. Like he was afraid?

“What… what’s going on?” Jordan asked.

“Oh thank the… er, nothing’s happening. Everything’s fine now kid. You know how it goes right?”

He knew how it goes? How what goes? Jordan stared at her, and then blinked awkwardly. Was he crying again? Oh not this shit again. He sighed as he tried to reach up to wipe the tears.

“Hey, don’t worry I-I got it!” Kioko jumped to start cleaning his face with a handkerchief. When had she even gotten it out?

“What are—stop, it’s just tears. I’ve got it!”

Jordan struggled, eventually grabbing Kioko’s hand as she looked back at him, ashen faced. What the hell is going on with her? Jordan grabbed the cloth she’d tried to use, and cleaned his own damn face with it. Looking at its wetness in irritation, he offered it back to her.

Kioko took it, looking back and forth between the rag and Jordan oddly.

“What?” He asked her. “Is something still on my face or something?”

“What?” She blurted out, “N-no, it’s… it’s fine. You’re fine. Everything’s… fine. I’m going to go… er, wash up and put the food away.”

The cat-girl stood up and packed her dishes away as she walked off, leaving a good chunk of steak on the floor for Charlie to finish up.

What was all that about? Jordan gripped internally, but shrugged it off.

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Kioko stood in the bathroom trying to breathe without spitting up her food. Placing a hand on a glyph, she activated the stored spell within to begin cycling its purified water down into the basin she rested against.

With it, she began to slowly clean her hands. She’d panicked hard when the brat had started crying blood.

“Fuck…” She muttered, quietly so the kid in the other room wouldn’t hear.

It’s one thing to see these kinds of Conditions on Immortals, but on a child? She had to focus on her breathing exercises. Old ones she hadn’t had to use in decades. Seeing the Freyhell kid was bringing up troubling memories of her own youth that she’d rather not think about.

She just wished the memory of the kid’s voice begging to die would go away. Did she really have to scream that into the room? Kioko’s ears still rang, but it was no surprise the brat was sensitive after that cultivation session.

She wasn’t sure, but the episode at least confirmed the kid would be great at Oneiromancy. Somewhere along the way it looked like she had already formed a series of emotion-based Eidolons. It could even be useful… if a few of them weren’t hell bent on killing her.

Was that because of her Repentant Title? Kioko knew that Titles could influence behavior, especially negative ones, but still. This seemed like too much.

Kioko breathed deep as she looked up into the mirror. The familiar mutilated Lie stared back at her. One day she’d be free of it, but today she needed to focus on how to help the kid. Maybe they could discuss her plans for her next Specialization? Try to identify other Skills she might have?

Kioko grimaced, irritated for the hundredth time now that she’d followed her Master into the Celestial City without her Chasm. She didn’t need one for casual use thanks to her own Skills in Oneiromancy, but it didn’t replace the real deal. And it meant she couldn’t do more to help the kid now.

“Oh, come on! Fuck me—why!?” Aureliana shouted from the living room. Kioko turned, tail and fur on end in surprise. What the hell…?

Then her eyes widened. She’d… left a fool unattended next to a pile of half broken Artifacts, forgetting that her familiar was happily nomming on food instead of watching her.

An insane fool to boot.

“Fuuuuuck—” She sprinted out of the bathroom like a life depended on it.

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