With a sound like a sword being unsheathed, the inscribed shells that made up the scripture’s case slid apart. Inside was a scroll of large metal slips and animal bones. Zel partly unraveled the mass of metal and bone, then took a particular slip in hand. Its surface was densely damascened lengthwise, with only a short description of its contents visible in writing. As she poured aura and intent into it, the slip expanded in width several times over, becoming more of a metal slab, revealing the writing contained upon it. With another spark of intent, different layers of the metallic lattice revealed themselves, thus revealing different sections of text. Index marks on the side of the slip indicated which layer was being shown. She vividly remembered attempting to manually recreate Compressed Writing, giving up, and conceiving of this alternative based on her understanding of metallum and the natural structures of metal.
The writing itself seethed with pure meaning such that all who looked upon it would be able to comprehend its contents. Zelsys did not know how to write in such a way, but reality could not be denied. She came to the conclusion it was a result of her Truth being embedded in the manuscript.
The entire text exuded an aura that, to Zelsys, was as familiar as her own breath. She wagered that, to others, it would seem ominous if not extremely perilous.
It was, after all, something of the Truth of Fangs put to writing.
It spoke of violence, its nature, and how one could interpret the entire world through the lens of violence. It spoke of the nature of Man as the supreme predator, not as a matter of hegemony, but as a matter of potential — despite having ascended beyond the need to be in constant contact with his Primordial Self, it was Man’s clarity of mind that permitted him to stand as the weak and tear out the throats of the strong, to upturn the old natural order, cast down the Dead Gods and reign over the natural world. On the same page, she laid out the need for the strong to elevate the weak and root out wretchedness, much like any long-reigning apex predator manages its territory rather than depleting it. For this reason, the scripture incessantly stressed the need for clarity to balance out ferocity, for the Lunar to balance out the Solar. She had included explicit statements that some kind of communication with the Primordial Self was enormously helpful in this endeavor, pointing towards the Walking Way of the Despot of Self.
Further sections focused on the esoteric ideal of “Pure Violence”, the state of being consumed by violent intent while retaining full self-control and clarity of mind. Martial diagrams and formulas took up a fair bit, being a more complex expansion on the fundamentals of Sturmblitz Kunst 0.
Zel skimmed over large portions, mentally reciting them as she did so and hoping that she hadn’t made some ridiculous mistake in her entranced state.
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Over half of the scroll remained empty, waiting to be filled in.
There was just one slip that didn’t expand, the one that would show when the scroll was rolled up — the cover, so to speak.
Zel flexed her aura, and with her own claws carved out the title.
STURMBLITZ KUNST 00
THE FORMLESS DESTROYER SCRIPTURE
She stored the scroll away, then made her way to the bedroom to use the mirror. The face that stared back at her was the same, yet at once different — the steel-grey of her irises had been overruled by a blue glow, though it was neither as widespread nor as intense as that which manifested when she channeled truly great quantities of fulgur. It was, overall, a tiny change, but enough to be noticeable. The writhing, serpentine tendrils that were her braids had shifted in colour — the metallic white had crept further downward, now reaching below her shoulders.
As far as she could tell, she had grown in height by seven centimeters. With each heartbeat, flashes of blue subtly illuminated her ribcage from within. To an untrained eye, it would seem as if she was perpetually in the state of Conqueror’s Mantle, and she had no intention of trying to dispel such rumours.
She spent a short while inspecting herself, taking particular interest in her new joints and the shapes formed by her newly-altered muscular structure. Her back had undergone the largest muscular changes, forming many unsettling shapes depending on how she flexed; one stood out for resembling a grimacing, demonic face.
After she was done shamelessly indulging in egoism, she dressed herself, feeling her trousers and boots reshape themselves to fit.
And so, with a bodily transformation and the completion of an entirely new scripture, the qualitative change Zelsys had begun at Eberheim was now complete.
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The Founder’s emergence from seclusion was, at once, a momentous occasion, yet also passed without much fanfare. She certainly made no effort to trumpet-up how much stronger she was now, and many rightly assumed it was because she had no need to do such a thing. It was self-evident from just a glance, nay, from being in her general vicinity. Her physical size, let alone her newly-clawed hands, were the least of it. Curiously, at first it seemed as if her presence had retracted by comparison to the times after her return from Eberheim. It soon became evident that she was merely holding it in, as its weight bore down onto onlookers like the breath of a ten-story-tall monstrosity even when only partially unfolded — rumours abounded as to what the full force of the founder’s aura might look like.
Strangely, of all the changes, the most eye-catching one had to be her hair. The fact the founder’s hair could turn into serpents at any moment was well-known, to the point this had been portrayed several times in a literal sense. But until now, it had always been deliberate. She had always clearly done it with full intention. That had changed; it was now constant, and unsettlingly seamless. Seemingly without even being aware of it, the founder’s hair constantly moved about, scanning her surroundings, grabbing things without direct, explicit intent.