Chapter 13 A Step Forward (2)

Apparently, I was lucky in that my female side hadn't firmly established her preferences, and overall, me – Kurome – was asexual enough to not think much about it. So there was no particular conflict in choosing whom to love between my past and current incarnations — especially since girls are objectively prettier.

The part of me that awoke as an earthling retained fragments of memories of a horrifying existence, so the need to urinate while sitting would only produce a wry grin and not a fit of hysteria about the loss of the "most important value in life."

Surviving hardships, in general, made me take a more relaxed approach to various inconveniences. I suppose that's what growing up means.

To sum up: I've always been a killer, a warrior of spirit, the owner of Yatsufusa, and only then a girl. What's changed now? There are some added labels: "living two lives" and, um, a "beginning conspirator." And tellingly, this is again ahead of current femininity or past masculinity.

As we were taught at the Base: for a killer, like for the targets, there is no gender or age.

At the moment, I feel comfortable thinking of myself in the male gender. This helps me to move away from the remnants of hypnotic programming, education, hammered into my head during education inside the Underground Base, expands my horizons and helps in planning. If this circumstance changes, I will be able to return to my current identity without much "internal turmoil". Yes, later, to remove the confusion in my thoughts, I can return to the normal self-identification for the current incarnation.

I guess.

But, overall, whether I'm a boy or a girl, an imperial assassin or an ordinary Russian guy... I'm not entirely sure who I am or whether I'm any of them.

This is the question that truly bothers me, even thinking about it is kind of scary. Is it me or... not quite me? Who opened their eyes that night, who remembered another life with a stopover in the Abyss – me or a stranger who even wears a mask for themselves? What is this "I" at all? Memory? Character traits and preferences? Way of thinking? The brain and the body's biochemistry?

Well... the last one is highly unlikely. The very fact of my reincarnation proves that my current embodiment is only a passing form, a vessel for my soul and memories. A link in the chain of reincarnations.

Shaking my head, I tried to get rid of thoughts that had veered way off course. Thus, even without any drugs, people used to get to the strange. Starting from the classic "Am I a sage who dreams he's a butterfly or a butterfly dreaming he's a sage?" to the manic ideas that turned sensible people into raving lunatics. I'm far from psychological normality as it is; let's not venture too deep into this philosophical rabbit hole!

Wanting to distract myself, I mentally returned to the current leader in the strength rating of my undead collection and his style. He was called Diamond Body. Or was it Steel? I strained my memory, recalling the words of my not-yet-marionette. No, it was definitely Diamond.

Maybe this style was barbaric and not very effective against assassins of comparable level, but when it came to raw power and durability, it had few equals. The giant hurled boulders the size of a carriage and, with a kick, sent entire sections of the earth mixed with stone shrapnel into the air. And his enhanced flesh resisted Yatsufusa with some resistance. All this despite the fact that, when I used my spiritual energy, I could slice through steel like a wax candle!

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As far as I remembered from the descriptions, what Prapor had demonstrated was the pinnacle of these types of paths. Except for some very interesting abilities, the style that made its user akin to a weak A-ranked demonic beast didn't seem particularly fascinating.

This was more typical of the early days of the Empire when it occupied the territory of the current Inner Ring, fenced off by the Wall. Paths focused on strength and endurance were very popular among the surrounding tribes. However, the arrival of imperial forces with mass-produced and relatively inexpensive cold weapons that could conduct spiritual energy proved to be a harsh blow. Should I be surprised that the previously dominant Schools and Temples began to disappear rapidly, and the Empire expanded? Nowadays, even the fighters from the colonial kingdoms have access to similar weapons, which has essentially destroyed the body strengthening school.

I wouldn't be surprised to find out that Prapor is the last Master of his style. But I'd still be tempted to learn part of his toughness.

Leaving a "do not disturb" sign on the exterior door handle, I returned with my boots in hand. Opening the window, I gladly inhaled the fresh morning air. Casting a suspicious glance at the cloud-covered sky, I decided that I wouldn't expect rain anytime soon and, after getting dressed, leaped onto the neighboring rooftop.

As I moved and scanned for a suitable spot from this height, I couldn't help but continue my thoughts.

While I'm a speed-type fighter, the passive defensive ability of the Prapor caused the strongest envy. With it, you could ignore ordinary bullets and blades, without even directing your spiritual energy to strengthen your body! Very convenient. And with the body strengthening, considering the weapons of the past world, it would probably take something like a nuclear charge to break through. Well, at least as a marionette who doesn't care about poisons, pain, or non-critical injuries.

It wouldn't hurt to borrow some of that durability. After all, it's one of my weaknesses preventing me from achieving true power.

... I remembered our fight with Prapor. In his determination to crush a pesky mosquito, the giant had paid little attention to pain, several lethal wounds, let alone numerous lighter injuries (I didn't strike at joints and ligaments to avoid causing too much damage to my future servant). And all this despite the fact that an ordinary person, like an average warrior of the spirit, could do nothing but die painfully even with one punctured kidney! The latter, however, had decent chances of surviving... just not continuing the fight as if nothing had happened. Damn, this big guy had carried on the battle ever after taking a hot in the heart! His resistance to injury was indeed at the level of a demonic beast.

From my side, such resilience only brought about a gleeful and bloodthirsty grin. Though, later, when the enemy finally collapsed and found a place in my collection, I regretted my spontaneity. Because cleaning and repairing the new minion fell entirely on my shoulders... well, with the help of puppets and my bossy gaze. Though I still had to sew up and remove sutures from wounds with my own two hands.

Without false modesty, I can say that I'm just as good at stitching wounds as a real surgeon. This is a profile skill for a necromancer. After all, if you don't align the edges of a wound and sew flesh to flesh, and veins to veins, then the regeneration process takes far too long.

Interestingly, even a considerably battered doll can self-repair over a reasonable period of time. Its combat ability decreases somewhat, but dislocated bones, torn muscles, severed ligaments, and vessels heal according to the template of a healthy human, not just haphazardly.

According to my unverified theory, the spiritual body stores information about the ideal state of the physical body, and that's the template that marionettes use for their recovery. This theory is indirectly supported by the existence of the Altered. Presumably, the influence of spiritual energy on a fetus disrupts the body template, but the subconscious desire to live prevents it from becoming nonviable.

The same thing happens, albeit on a smaller scale, with those warriors who reach a certain plateau in their development. The appearance of anyone gifted with enough power can't be described as anything less than extraordinary. The guys practically universally develop muscular bodies to rival ancient gods, while the girls, training just as hard if not harder, retain their femininity and beauty. And everyone looks at least decent.

Naturally, there were exceptions, but I believed these were largely influenced by personal preferences. After all, there were bodybuilder women and effeminate guys in the previous world, right?

Could the secret to the physical transformations of the Rakshasa Demons be found in the same concept? It would be interesting to use my spiritual sight on someone from their ranks...

After a while, I found a suitable place, the area around a ruined tower. The approaches to the structure at the edge of a wasteland weren't convenient for ordinary people, and it stood in a remote area. It's doubtful there could be any residents nearby. Evaluating the location, I found it suitable for training and a friendly... sparring session with Kei Lee. As expected, the burnt-out water tower, surrounded by construction debris and thorny bushes, had been abandoned for a long time.

While my summoned Prapor cleared the area of debris, I spread a cloak on a slightly charred bench, settled down, and went into a trance to observe the functioning of his passive defense ability.