The Sigfrid Galaxy, was a small galaxy on the outer edge of the Empty-Bell Complex. The Sigfrid Union was a nation of multiple mortal races that spanned over multiple solar systems. Hong Mirae, Dragon-Empress Kian...for some reason...a group of roughly fifteen thousand decently strong immortal Empty-Harvesters, and a portion of the Forest of Life and Death’s elites, were all camped out in a solar system at the edge of the Union. Just close enough to a certain sinister mass of dark, eldritch, sound to be able to respond to anything that might happen.

“So...Anyone else find it weird being ‘mortal' again?” I said. As for me, and the team retired to the mansion I’d had arranged for us, prior to our arrival.

We’d spent the last few weeks allowing ourselves to be wined and dined by the mortal and immortal authorities of the world we were in. According to my Empty-Archive, and the advice of the bosses in the Division, if one was in the area, and if one could it was best to let people in the territories you owned, have some face time. Apparently, it made them feel less anxious about your intentions, and it made them less likely to bother you afterward, in an attempt to see what you actually wanted and what you were playing at.

“Well, we’re technically ‘not’ mortal again, we’ve just sort of created these temporary mortal bodies for ourselves to inhabit? Control? I’m not sure what the term for it is…” said Kian.

“It ‘is’ damned weird though. All my senses are blunted, all my reactions feel slow and laggy...Like using condoms for the first time in forever, when you’ve been using serum and magic-based contraceptives for decades,” said Hong Mirae.

Though I somehow doubted she was aiming for that reaction, there was an eruption of sputters, coughing, and nervous laughter from the group.

“Ugh...There are children listening…” groaned Hong Soomin.

“Aren’t you already several centuries old by now?” said Hong Mirae. Tilting her towards her niece.

“Yes?... And, that doesn’t change the fact that I ‘am’ someone’s child, and you basically raised me,” huffed Hong Soomin.

“Heh, Okay-okay...Let’s not snipe at each other, just because we’re all tired and cranky and uncomfortable. I made sure the estate has quarters for everyone. Then everyone can head their separate ways in the morning,” I said. Forcing a laugh in an attempt to keep the mood light.

My words were answered by a chorus of grumbling assent. I didn’t take it too personally. I felt a bit out of sorts myself. Part of the requirements for this little mission that I and my people were all working on, including us hiding in semi-deep cover. Meaning, we needed to use mortal avatars. Perishable skin-suits that would hide our true natures enough to keep our target from getting wise to the fact that we knew, that they knew, that we knew, what they were up to. I wasn’t sure about everyone else, but going back to being mortal after being an impossibly vast, trans-dimensional cloud of swirling nothingness, kind of pinched a little. Like I’d slipped into some tights that just flatly weren’t made in my size.

Which is why, for the sake of not being a hypocrite, I’d set up a system that’d allow us to step-outside our skin-suits temporarily so long as we didn’t totally break the connections set-up with the skin-suits or overuse our powers. Honestly, it wasn’t that big a deal that the Dark Song Orchestra didn’t know we were watching them. They knew we were watching. We knew they were watching. The key to our plan working, was the appearance of us not being able to do too much about their activities since they were only attacking the Empty-Bell Complex on the premise that we were a weak-link for the House Antipodes and the Division of Cosmic Artifice.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

For the time being, I would allow the dark mass of sinister sound growing in the galaxy nearest to this solar system to grow. Only responding to whatever creatures emerged, or were drawn to, the sinister sound. In other words, we’d be treating the symptoms of the disease while doing our best to look like we were struggling, while keeping a close eye on the actual cause of the situation for the House of Antipodes.

In any case, for the time being, I had a date with a shower, because physical stress like what I was experiencing now was something I hadn’t experienced in quite a while. Then I’d maybe go out of body for a bit, to escape the unpleasant feeling of being restrained by the laws of gravity rather than merely tolerating their hold on my person, like I did when I was immortal. I might have described this little mission as something of a cakewalk, but that was before I realized that I was having that cake in the itchiest, achiest, most tiresome place in the universe. A mortal body.

“Ugh...Why is my nose runny? Do I...Do I have a cold? How?! I thought this body came pre-refined to the very limits of mortal-flesh,” muttered someone. I think it was Yoshino Yuki. Complaining to Hong Soomin, and his other girlfriends. A fact that made me realize that more than a few folks were joining me in treating this trip as an opportunity to spend some much-needed time building relationships that we’d been neglecting.

Not that he mentioned it, I was feeling a bit fluey too. I wasn’t actually sick. None of us were. Our temporary mortal-vessels were created to serve as perfect containers for our immortal-essence. Being weak and infirm would be counterproductive for our purposes. What we were feeling was the loss in near-perfection in our mortal physiques.

Aging wasn’t some hard-set magical clock winding downwards until some pre-set date. It was entropy. It was wear and tear, continuing from the moment of birth, where even the act of growing and developing caused damage. For mortals to live, they all had to “endure” the world to some degree. Immortals didn’t have that. We were all pretty much exactly what they were meant to be.

“Growing” and growing older for us just made us more so. Going from a state where one could only grow stronger the longer one was alive, to a state where one’s body had to repair itself from the act of merely being alive, was enough to make even those of us, who’d been born mortal, feel like we were coming down with something.

My guess though, was that we’d eventually get used to it. We “had” been born mortal after all, and even for those of us who weren’t originally mortal, the mind was frighteningly capable of adapting. That being said, I was likely going to spend the next couple of days trying to figure out some means to ease the process of acclimation without giving away our masquerade by directly making us immortal again.

While I was mulling this matter over I realized I could smell something nice. I unconsciously ended up wandering to the kitchen, because there was nothing like a mortal appetite. Wanting food was one thing when it was mostly intellectual desire, but when you were in a state where not eating for a long enough period would make you die, it added a new edge to things. Or in my case, it honed an edge I’d already always felt as a being of nothingness.

I could feel my face making a confuzzled expression as I saw who was in the kitchen. It wasn’t one of the constructs I had serving as housekeeping, it was two members of the team. One member of the team I was strongly familiar with, even if I’d half-forgotten she’d volunteered at the last moment, because the Sigfrid Union’s galaxy was very close to another galaxy that was under her direct control. The other member of the team was someone that I’d forgotten completely because she’d invited herself at the last moment, and I’d decided not to argue because the faction she represented was just troublesome enough to make our Empty-Society elect to play nice, if no harm was going to come from it.

Yuval, the Demon-Lord and a cooking buddy of mine, and a random angel, stood side by side in the kitchen.

“Uh….Hi,” I said.

“Hey,” said Yuval. Looking up from the pot she’d been stirring and giving me a little wave.

“So, what are you guys up to?” I said. Even though it was clearly obvious that they were cooking.

“Planning world domination...Just joshing. We’re making gumbo. I've been starving since that last gala you dragged us to. You want some?” said Yuval.

“Uh...Sure,” I said. Nodding.

“Cool...It should be ready in a bit,” said Yuval. Returning her attention to her cooking.