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Samurai Jack: A Twisted Path

Summary:

Jack killed Aku.

He was supposed to win.
He thought he saved the world.

He thought he could undo everything.

Now, thrust back into a future where Aku somehow still reigns, Jack faces a world that remembers nothing. His old enemies live again. His allies are too far gone. And the Daughters of Aku, reborn into fates even crueler than before, are scattered across a world that worships their father, who appears to be actively making the world a better place.

One thinks she’s not just five steps ahead of him, but of everyone else.
One, the former timeless princess, is sadly, once again her father’s most loyal disciple.
One hides beneath wrathful storms that never fade.
One should be dead, but she isn't.
One gambled with the concept of empathy and lost her memories.
One pretends to destroy, but secretly rebuilds, hoping her efforts will not draw the watchful eye of her father.
One isolates herself in the frozen wilderness, her devotion to her father unwavering despite the crushing solitude.
Jack had fought Aku before.

This, though?

This is something far worse.

Notes:

Heads up: This is not your typical Samurai Jack fanfiction. By reading this, you are agreeing to subject yourself to the absolute psychosis that me and my co-writer Erins once envisioned, the kind that you don't usually see in the Samurai Jack fandom.

This isn’t some clean-cut rewrite where we simply fix the ending. This isn’t a power of friendship/love saves the day kind of story.

If you came here for comfort, turn back now.

⚠️ CONTENT WARNINGS:

Existential horror, psychological breakdowns, extreme mental health spirals

Death, destruction, and violence

Disturbing imagery & body horror elements (It'll happen.)

Betrayal, manipulation, and loss

Themes of faith, cult-like devotion, and moral dissonance.

Everyone suffers in one way or another.

Heavy worldbuilding & altered timelines

If you're still curious? Hey, that's cool. Enjoy this... silly little story that me and a friend cooked up almost 3 years ago by now.

 

Dedicated to ErinsTheVanillish. Wish you could have seen this through the end with me.

All rights reserved to original owners; Cartoon Network, Adult Swim and Genndy Tartakovsky.

Chapter 1: Optional Prologue

Chapter Text

In a collapsing void where stars guttered out like dying embers, two pairs of eyes, one green, one black locked in a clash of fury and despair. Spectral Ashi loomed, a wraith of the erased timeline, her prison dress stained crimson with the blood of a past undone, her fists a blur of blue flame.

Ashi staggered back, black tendrils fraying from her form, her chest heaving as she gasped for air.

“DON’T!” she screamed, the sound choking off as Spectral’s palm slammed into her throat with bone-crushing force, the impact reverberating through the fracturing domain.

The void yawned below, a maw of infinite darkness, its edges splintering as reality unraveled. Spectral Ashi leaned in, her face inches from her counterpart’s, her voice slicing through the silence like shards of ice.

You,” she hissed, her green eyes burning with cold, unyielding rage.

A fist crashed into Ashi’s face, shattering her orbital socket with a sickening crunch. Shards of bone splintered inward, blood streaming down her cheek as her vision blurred. She raised her arm to block the next blow, but Spectral’s strike was merciless—radius, ulna, humerus pulverised into dust, her left arm collapsing into a limp, useless mass. An inhuman scream tore from her throat, echoing through the void as her body buckled under the assault, her nerves screaming in agony.

“Don’t,” The ghostly woman snarled, her voice a steel blade, each word punctuated by another devastating blow.

A third punch slammed into Ashi’s torso, the force threatening to rupture her organs. Blood erupted from her mouth in a grotesque fountain, splattering the ground beneath her as her knees buckled, her body trembling on the edge of collapse.

“Represent,” Spectral continued, her blue-flamed fist striking Ashi’s chest directly over her heart. The impact stopped her corrupted, broken heart for a fleeting moment, a hollow thud echoing in the void before it stuttered back to life, each beat a futile gasp for survival. Ashi’s vision swam, the stars above fading into pinpricks as her body screamed in protest.

“Me.” The final blow landed on Ashi’s neck, a brutal strike that sent torrents of blood gushing from her mouth. Tears streamed down her face, mingling with the crimson stains as her nerves, overwhelmed by pain, regret, and grief, began to shut down. Her vision dimmed, the world fading into a suffocating silence, her body slumping to the ground as the void closed in around her.

“Ah…” Ashi’s voice was a broken whisper, barely audible as her consciousness slipped away, her blackened eyes dulling with the weight of her past.

“Maybe it all… went wrong then.

Chapter 2: CII

Chapter Text

“At long last, my quest to defeat Aku has ended.”

The words echoed in Jack’s mind like a prayer finally answered—a mantra whispered through decades of despair, hope, and relentless perseverance. He stood atop the scorched earth where it had all culminated, his katana still warm from the heat of battle. Aku’s essence—his malevolent core—had been driven into the planet’s molten depths, draining away like poison siphoned from a wound. Yet even as victory settled over him, its edges felt jagged, uneven.

It came... at a cost.

A cost he wouldn’t know until long after he’d embraced Ashi.

“I felt… Aku leave me." she'd said.

Jack stepped outside the imperial palace, his eyes tracing the rows of cherry blossoms lining the courtyard. Their delicate petals swayed gently in the breeze, painting fleeting shadows across the curved stone walls of the ancient castle. For fifty years, he had wandered the future—a stranger adrift in a world warped by Aku’s tyranny. Now, standing here amidst the remnants of his restored kingdom, those decades stretched before him like an endless horizon.
He closed his eyes, letting memories wash over him.

Enemies.

Da Sa-moo-rai—the self-proclaimed “true samurai”—who had mocked him with misplaced arrogance.

The Sirens, whose haunting melodies stole his identity, leaving him lost in a haze of false memories.

Demongo, the soul-stealing warrior who haunted his nightmares.

Scaramouche, Aku’s mechanical assassin, relentless in pursuit.

And countless others—Aku’s lackeys, each more grotesque than the last.

Yet…

Friends.

The Scotsman, clapping him on the back with hearty laughter: “Aye, laddie! Yer the one who’ll put that mustard-chuggin’, piss-garglin’ demon into the ground!”

Olivia, the rave DJ, her voice ringing out after liberation: “We owe it to the samurai for freeing us.”

The Spartans, fighting alongside him against Aku’s beetle bots.

The woolies, teaching him to leap higher than ever before.

Master Ning and his lizard monks, purifying his weakened form when corruption threatened to consume him.

The Imakandi warriors, a race of cat-like felids who hunted him down for ages, yet in the end, betrayed the Shogun of Sorrows, and freed Jack, letting him continue on his quest to defeat Aku.

There were moments of awkwardness too—humiliating missteps etched into his memory.

Clothes stolen, leaving him naked in public.

Aku’s deceitful guise as Ikra, preying on his trust.

Discovering Da Sa-moo-rai’s flabby belly beneath his armour.

But there were good memories too—moments of triumph and connection. Saving families from curses, aiding blind archers, turning aside from time portals to help strangers in need.

As Jack opened his eyes again, the crisp air of the courtyard filled his lungs. The wind carried whispers of spring, brushing softly against the slanted stone walls. But beneath the serenity, a pang tightened his chest.
“And of course… her.”
Ashi.
Her voice reverberated in his mind, sharp and unyielding:

“Die, DIE SAMURAI! AKU IS THE FATHER OF ALL FATHERS!”

Then softer, trembling:

“Don’t do it… don’t commit seppuku… Argh! You made me… more than who I was!”

Then, more upbeat, hopeful for a future that never was.

“You got your sword… a shave and a haircut.”

“Do you think your robe is gonna protect me [from being naked]?”

Her voice, resigned and terrified, unable to comprehend the horror of being Aku’s biological daughter, and the implications it’d have on the relationship between her and the venerable samurai:

 

 

“I can’t fight Aku. Leave me be.” 

And finally, broken yet resolute:

“You’re not my father, Aku.”

Their final moment together replayed behind his eyelids. She had placed a hand on his face, clad in her shiromuku, green eyes fading as he held her in his arms. The crowd fell silent, their mouths agape in horror, pity and confusion, mourning what they could not fully understand.

“Without, Aku, I would have never… existed.”

A single tear rolled down the Samurai’s cheek as he remembered. Even now, two years later, the void she left behind remained raw, red hot and too painful to even think about. Her disappearance meant something far worse.
it meant she had likely ceased to exist entirely- along with her sisters, and everyone else in the future.


“I hope,” he murmured to himself, “that in her last moments of consciousness, she knew what she did for me, and everyone else, before she departed this world.”

"A world... that never was fair to someone like her." 

Jack descended the steps of the palace, walking through the bustling streets of his imperial capital, the atmosphere alive with chatter and laughter. Children played near stalls, merchants called out their wares, and elders exchanged stories with the new generation under shaded awnings, sitting cross legged on stools and tables next to pristinely kept, pebbled gutters. It was a scene he had fought so hard to restore—a world free from Aku’s shadow.

“Maybe…” he thought aloud, memories flashing of battles long past.
Of daughters of Aku falling one by one, save for Ashi. “I hope their suffering has ended. Not just for them, but for everyone I met along the way.”

His steps slowed as he approached a familiar dango shop. The young vendor, hair tied neatly in a topknot, bowed deeply upon seeing him.
“Oh! Your Majesty!” the boy exclaimed. “How much dango would you like today?”
Jack hesitated, his gaze drifting to the stall.

 

Memories surfaced, Ashi beside him, clad in a simple green kimono, her curiosity lighting up her face.

“Ooh… What’s this?” she had asked, pointing to the skewered sweets.

“It’s called dango,” he’d replied. “Have you never tried something like it?”

She shook her head, smiling shyly. “No… but it looks sweet.”

“I’ll pay for you, my love,” he’d said, earning a giggle from her as they waited.

 

The vendor’s voice pulled him back to the present. “Your Majesty… my condolences for your loss.”

Jack blinked, meeting the boy’s earnest gaze. “Thank you,” he said softly. “It is appreciated.”

He accepted the dango, his fingers brushing the wooden skewer. As townsfolk gathered around him, eager to catch a glimpse of their prince, Jack found himself lost in thought.
“Sometimes,” he mused aloud, “life brings us hardship. And the decisions we make, and the actions that follow—despite the misfortunes handed to us—are a reflection of who we truly are.”




Deep below the surface of the earth, within a domain untouched by time, a woman, clad in something resembling the flowy grace of a Greek toga, her skin coruscating with the vibrant swirls of the earth’s oceans, continents, poles and weather patterns, moved gracefully among endless rows of glowing bubbles. Each contained fragments of timelines—shards of memory plucked from streams of existence either destroyed or erased.
“My, what a cute little dark blob of hatred!” she cooed, pausing before one particularly irate prisoner.
Inside the bubble, Aku’s essence writhed furiously, shaking its tiny fists. “THE SAMURAI!!! I WILL GET YOU FOR THIS!!!” it shrieked, unable to break free from its divine prison.

A low, resonant chuckle, like the chime of distant cosmic bells, filled the space as the Earth Mother's form, a luminous silhouette against the swirling backdrop of her domain, shimmered with an otherworldly glow.

'Now, now,' she chided, her voice a gentle caress that belied the cold finality of her words. 'Your fate, a sealed decree, is etched in the very bones of time. This cage, a timeless prison, shall be your eternal confinement.'

With a graceful, almost languid motion, she began her task, plucking nine shards from the flowing river of time that coursed beneath her feet. One shard, a black hole incarnate, devoured all light, an abyss of nothingness. Another, a deep, arterial red, pulsed with a malevolent heat. The remaining seven, each a fragment of shattered reality, glimmered with the spectral hues of forgotten stars: a burning orange, a tranquil baby blue, a vibrant magenta, a piercing sapphire, a sun-kissed yellow—and, most importantly, a soft, haunting pink and a verdant, pulsating green.

“Memories transcend the laws of space and time,” she murmured, cradling the shards in her hands.

“Once created, they can never be destroyed. Whether good or bad, memories must be preserved. The essence of conscious life lies in it’s ability to remember all the little moments in their lives. For what use would it be, if nobody ever kept records of existences long since erased?" 

From his cage, the furious fragment of Aku glared at her, venom dripping from every syllable.

“You… keeping me here for eons. You. I’ll make sure you, along with Odin, Ra, and Rama, get your reckoning.”

The Earth Mother merely smiled, unfazed. She turned away, her duty clear, as she bubbled the 9 shards of a timeline long since erased, letting them levitate in the vast, endless rows of bubbles above her, just like she’d done for eons and would continue to do so for as long as her existence was guaranteed. Somewhere beyond these walls, life continued—fragile, fleeting, and beautiful. And somewhere within those lives, the echoes of heroes and villains lingered, waiting to shape the future once more.

Chapter 3: CIII

Chapter Text

The Earth Mother continues the task she's been familiar with for eons, her gait exuding elegance in her blissful, dainty movements as she seems to float across the surface of her ethereal domain, trawling shards of all life on earth with actionable consciousness and it's memories, ranging from the tiny microscopic shards of an ant with the lifespan of 3 weeks to the massive shards of sea beasts long extinct. She elegantly tiptoes over the floor of her domain as her toga flows behind her, a vast expanse of galaxies swirling beneath her feet like liquid starlight.

Endless rows of shimmering bubbles containing fragments of forgotten timelines float around her like constellations, each one pulsing faintly with memories long buried by time.

At the center of it all sits Aku, reduced to his rat-like form, caged by cosmic restraints that hum faintly with ancient power. The bars of his prison are translucent yet unyielding, crackling with energy whenever he strains against them.

Rat-Aku shifts uncomfortably, his piercing green eyes narrowing as he watches Dheghom inspect nine shards suspended before her.

Each shard pulses faintly with its own color—black, blood red, yellow, orange, baby blue, magenta, sapphire blue and finally.. Pink and green.

They hover in midair, spinning slowly as if caught in an invisible current.

“What is this cretin doing…” Aku mutters under his breath, gripping the bars of his cage briefly before slumping back in frustration.

His gaze sharpens as Dheghom reaches for one specific shard—the green one—and un-bubbles it.

Aku’s curiosity spikes.

Why had she chosen that particular shard?

What significance did it hold? He leans forward, his claws scraping faintly against the restraints.

A devilish grin spreads across his face as possibilities swirl in his mind.

“Hmm…” he muses aloud, gazing wistfully at the galaxies beyond.

“I just might…”


Dheghom cradles the green shard gently in her palm, her radiant form tinged with both wonder and trepidation. She taps the shard lightly, and suddenly, memories, filled with the struggles, the hopes, and dreams of a timeline long since erased, flood her mind’s eye.

The woman's name was Ashi.

The Earth Mother inferred that, from the wealth of memories inside this glowing green, triangular shard, that she and the rest of her sisters were born to the High Priestess, leader of an all-female cult that drunk in the delusions of Aku's supposed benevolence in the erased timeline, and raised as assassins to kill Samurai Jack—the one foe no warrior could defeat.

Christened the Daughters of Aku, they endured brutal training from childhood to adulthood, forged into lethal weapons. As a kid, Ashi peeked through a wall at the outside world, only to be scolded by the Priestess: Aku created it, and Jack threatened it.

Punished and thrown back into training, she grew up hardened.
By adulthood, the sisters finished their brutal regimen, donned masks, wielded weapons, and set off to slay the samurai.

6 of them perished in battle against the venerable samurai, leaving only one to pick up the pieces and continue forging the lonely, twisted path to a potential redemption forward.

The echoes of the woman's words appear in her mind, like fragments of fleeting memories long since fated to oblivion, as a tidal wave of emotion washes across the Earth Mother's chest.

 “You worthless scum! I will kill you! You can never escape from Aku!”

"You tell me that everything I know is wrong! But refuse to prove any of it! You're afraid! Afraid that I will see you are a liar!!"

"What do you know of me? Everything I have endured until this moment!? You know nothing, Samurai. You are just a lowly, soulless pig!!"

Then… came the moments of realisation, introspection and finally change, that Ashi had been so capable of internally.

Her relief, when the blue alien children prove to be alright, regaining their consciousness, freed from the mind control of the Dominator: "We did it! Samurai, we saved them!" 

Her concern, when she'd wanted to ask the grizzled, jaded Samurai about the truth of the world. 

"Samurai? Samurai??"

"SAMURAI JAAAAAACK!"

"Look, I'm not trying to hurt him. I'm trying to find him. I think he's in trouble."

Her inner self, torn between the lie she lived from her birth till adulthood, and then being asked if she was a friend of the Samurai's.

"I...don't know."

Scrubbing off the darkness that had stuck to her since her birth, and then realising she was naked.

"Uh-oh."

A cloaked stranger asking if she was Jack's friend, she hesitates, then truthfully admits softly;

"Yes."

Her relief, at seeing the Samurai, only for it to turn into horror when she notices a sword laying before him, gifted to him by that ghostly horseman from the shroud of the misty graveyard.

"Samurai!"

"Jack?"

The ominous unease in her heart, turning into full-on impassioned yells of anguish, begging him not to do anything brash and irrational.

"No. No. YOU MADE ME MORE... THAN WHO I WAS...!" 

"The hope that you gave me... that hope."


"It.. IT SAVED MY LIFE." 

 At the point in time when Aku corrupts her, her form blackening and elongating grotesquely, her human features having been all but replaced with white eyes, glowing with the resignation of her soul to her demonic father, Aku.

“Jack… I can’t stop this!!! I can’t control myself!”

“Kill me, then destroy Aku!! Do it now!”

And then the final, ill-fated line, her last words before everything went black.

“Without Aku… I would have never… existed.”

In her mind's eye, she sees the Samurai's grief-stricken face, tears dripping onto his black haori and hakama, cradling his stricken bride, as Ashi's entire form de-manifests in front of him.

And then... nothing.

As the montage ends, Dheghom reflects on Ashi’s transformation—from a loyal servant of Aku to someone who defied her fate, only to meet a tragic end.

The Earth Mother sighs deeply, her expression softening. “I shouldn’t be interfering with fate,” she murmurs, re-bubbling Ashi’s shard. She pauses, lowering her head as if mourning the loss of potential.

“This woman, in her incarnation in this specific timeline, had... a wealth of ambitions. Sadly… fate was not kind to her.”

Aku watches intently from his cage, his curiosity piqued. His tail twitches impatiently, like a whip against the vacuum of the domain’s atmosphere, as he contemplates what he has just witnessed.

Whatever these shards contained, they were clearly important—to Dheghom, perhaps even to him.


Meanwhile, in the restored past, Jack stands at the outskirts of his kingdom. Physically young but mentally weary, he gazes at the horizon, lost in thought.

He takes a long deep breath of the crisp, cool air of the afternoon, shifting his geta underneath the grass of the hill he stands upon, sheathing his cherished katana once again into its hilt, protecting it from the spoils of a war long since concluded.

The wind rustles through the tall grass, carrying whispers of a life he once knew—and a future he fought so hard to reclaim.

His solitude is interrupted when an envoy approaches over the rolling hills—an Egyptian delegation led by a tall man dressed in flowing robes. Behind him, several guardsmen carry spears adorned with golden scarabs. Their arrival feels surreal, almost out of place in this quiet moment.

“My condolences to you, about the loss of your bride, the ill-fated Princess Ashi.,” the leader says, bowing deeply. He holds out a small trinket—a delicate scarab carved intricately into the shape of lapis lazuli.

Another guard adds softly, “I heard she was one to appreciate the beauty of nature.” Jack takes the trinket hesitantly, turning it over in his hands. For a moment, he simply stares at it, his mind flooded with memories:

The Triseraquins, their cheerful chatter and soulful singing echoing through the underwater bustle of their cities.

The Scotsman, boisterous and stubborn, raising a toast to friendship.

Da Sa-moo-rai, boisterous yet well-meaning, his pensive willingness to learn the true techniques of a ronin warrior a stark contrast from his days as a haughty, arrogant womaniser.

The Woolies, innocent and hopeful, believing in a brighter future after making contact with Jack.

And finally, Ashi—her laughter, her determination, her final sacrifice.

“Yes,” Jack says quietly, clutching the scarab tightly. “You are right. That was one of her many defining characteristics. Many thanks to you all. I will carry this wherever I go… to remind me of her.”

“To remind me…” he repeats softly, his voice trailing off as more memories surface.

“…of everyone.”

For a brief moment, Jack allows himself to feel the weight of everything he has lost—and everything he has gained, as the envoy of Egyptians trek onwards to the main quarters of the kingdom he and Ashi, had fought so hard to protect and defend.

But the peace is fleeting. Somewhere deep within him, he knows that this respite cannot last forever.


Back in Dheghom’s domain, Aku grows restless. Watching the Earth Mother handle the memory shards had sparked something within him—a desperate need to reclaim what he has an inkling of suspicion are rightfully his to claim.

He rattles his cage violently, sparks flying as he strains against the cosmic restraints. “FOOLISH SAMURAI!” Aku snarls, his voice dripping with venom. “Do you think you’ve won? Do you think I am finished?”

Dheghom turns to face him, her serene demeanor masking her growing concern. “Still scheming, little rat?” she mocks lightly. “Your time has passed.”

“We’ll see about that,” Aku sneers, his glowing eyes fixed on the sea of bubbled memories surrounding them. His lips curl into a sinister grin.

“I can tell that these shards… they hold power.” He pauses, sniffing his essence and connection oozing from the 9 shards that the Earth Mother had so curiously been wistfully analysing earlier.

“I can sense that inside them, there is… power that belongs to me . And soon enough, I will take it back.”

Dheghom narrows her eyes, sensing the truth behind his words. Though weakened by centuries of neglect, she knows better than to underestimate Aku.

She glances down at the shards, her expression darkening slightly.

From his cage, Aku glares at her, venom dripping from every syllable.

“You… your curiosity piques mine... too.." 





Dheghom places the shimmering green shard back among the others, her movements deliberate and careful. Her expression darkens slightly as she gazes at the bubbles, each one holding fragments of lives long gone. She glances back at the central subarea of her gossamer domain, furrowing her eyebrows as she feels something, like a squall of unease brewing in the pit of her heart.

In the distance, Aku’s cage begins to tremble faintly, as if responding to some unseen force. A grin etches itself onto his rat-like features.

All I have to do.. Is to bide my time.”

 

Somewhere far away, in the restored past, Jack tucks the scarab trinket into his robe and resumes his solitude, curling up underneath the sakura tree, the same one under which he’d let the ladybug fly away from his hands, the memory of him releasing the little insect a painful, yet worthwhile reminder of the woman he’d loved, and lost.

Unbeknownst to him, below the surface of the earth, fate had already decided that everyone's combined efforts would be undone.

Chapter 4: CIV

Chapter Text

The wind whispered through the reeds as Jack stood by the riverbank, his wild hair catching the breeze. The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the water’s surface. He stared at the swaying grasses, their movements hypnotic yet unsettling, a reminder of something he could never forget.

“Reeds bend,” he murmured under his breath, recalling Ashi’s voice. “Then break.”

His hand clenched involuntarily at his side. Tears welled up in his eyes, but he blinked them away before they could fall. It wasn’t just grief that weighed on him; it was guilt. Guilt for what he had done, for what he had undone. Without Aku… Ashi would never have existed.

Behind him, villagers approached cautiously. They bowed deeply when they saw him, their faces filled with reverence. “Prince,” one of them said softly, “you’re back!”

Jack nodded absently, barely registering their words. His mind was elsewhere, lost in echoes of her laughter, her defiance, her final moments.

Her last words haunted him like a ghost: “Without Aku... I never would have... existed.”

He turned away from the river, forcing himself to focus on the present. The village needed him. That much hadn’t changed.



Hooves thundered against the beaten, dust-covered dirt path as a group of rogue ronin goons descended upon the village. Swords gleamed in the fading light as they demanded tribute—rice, gold, anything of value. Villagers scrambled to comply, fear etched onto their faces.

A child tripped while fleeing, tumbling into the dust. As Jack stepped forward, his gaze locked onto the boy’s terrified expression. For a moment, he could have sworn he saw Ashi staring back at him—not the warrior she became, but the venomous, yet frightened girl she once was, before almost becoming his wife.

Almost.

But there was no time to dwell on anything about the erased future. He had to get to action. And fast.

His grip tightened on his sword. No more pointless bloodshed. He had sworn it to himself after defeating Aku. But then a scream pierced the air—a woman, cornered by two armed men, their masks sneering at her face, as she frantically handed anything of value she could muster up: trinkets, cutlery, even precious Akoya pearls, supposedly items her family had been storing for decades in their minka huts, presumably as memoirs, heirlooms or just valuable items to trade and barter with.

Something inside Jack snapped.

In an instant, he moved. His blade flashed in the dim light, cutting through the chaos with lethal precision. He dodged a katana strike, parried another blow, and countered with a slash that left his opponent’s neck sash in tatters. “Leave. Now,” he commanded, his voice calm but laced with fury.

The ronin leader laughed, stepping forward with reckless bravado. “Prince? You’re a ghost! Hah. Look at you. A shell of your former self, ever since you lost your bride. What was her name again? Oh yeah. Poor Ashi."

Jack did not bite. He stood there, his gaze low. Underneath the fading light of the setting sun, the toro lamps at the edges of the streets glowed with intensity at the deteriorating situation as the villagers huddled around themselves, watching the lone prince deal with the rogue bandits that had so recklessly decided to invade the prince's domain.

"Your kingdom should have been destroyed long ago." A ronin sneers, as he flicks a speck of dust off his kusazuri.

Jack continues looking down at the ground, the wind whistling, caressing his hair and his gi, as tension continues to congeal within the already tense air, the villagers, petrified and as still as stone, forming a tight group amongst themselves, their full faith in the prince of the kingdom as he faces off against the barbaric savages in front of him.

"I think we should kill him, don't you think?" like a pack of wolves, the rogue barbarians encircle Jack, as he keeps his gaze low.

"Yes." The leader says, the grimace of the oni-mask on his face, an exact representation of his feelings toward the prince of the kingdom.

"Then... so be it. You have made your choice." Jack utters.

A rogue ronin lunges at Jack, his blade aimed squarely at Jack's heart. Jack jumps to the right, expertly spacing his dodge and his movement to get an opportunity to swing at the barbaric bandit. Another one bears down upon him from the 6 o'clock position, as 3 more, including the leader, rush forward, battle cries echoing across the usually quiet, serene village.

Jack's katana meshes with the 5 others of the vagrants, a blur of clanging metal in the dusky evening, as he ducks, weaves, feints and parries against the punishing onslaught of attacks. The vagrants manage to get close to him at various points in time, their blades managing to slice his hair, parts of his gi, and even his chin.

In an instant, he finds an opening in their expert, yet occasionally clumsy and unrefined swordswork.

"2 of them will slash downwards, then 2 will slash either left or right, then the leader will improvise off that... then rinse and repeat.They've rehearsed their attacks a lot." muses Jack internally.

His internal monologue continues as his confidence grows, his eyes focused, calm and steady.

"But I..."

In the split second between the 2 ronins downward slash, and the other two's follow up with a slash to the left or right, with a shrill cry that pierces the tension of the sky, Jack makes a beeline straight for the ronin leader's yodare-kake, and tackles him to the ground, the both of them doing a barrel roll as the goons fly to another direction.

“...deal only in righteous affairs.”

"How... this... brute power!" the leader's voice strains, his mask cracks as Jack pins him to the ground, blade near his neck's arteries, his armour digging into the smooth pebbles of the path.

Jack's gaze turns, as he instantly parries another strike from one of the goons who had been quicker on his feet, blocking a lunge from him. The daimyo leader snickers from his position on the ground.

"If I can get up... it'll be my victory...!"

The vagrant leader's eyes widen as he looks to his right, looking at the impending doom before him.

"OOF!"
"AGKH!"

Jack leaps away with blistering speed, causing the 4 goons that had lunged at him to crash into the dirt, smothering their leader with the weight of clanking armour, flesh and bones, the impact forces sending them all careening into the gutter. Stagnant drain water splashes on the group of villagers as they recoil in disgust, shock, horror and awe at their prince's quick thinking and combat prowess.

Jack lands back on his feet gracefully in front of a streetlamp, sheathing his sword. The bandits moan in pain, their bodies contorted in unnatural positions inside the gutteras their leader grimaces at Jack, clawing his way out of the gutter. The daimyo commander unsheathes his sword... only to realise it had been bent at an unnatural angle, presumably by the forces of the impacts.

"You... YOU UNCOUTH...!"

The ronin leader charges, fury blazing in his brown irises. However, Jack stood there motionless. In his mind, it was clear who had won the battle.



"This... this isn't right. The ronin leader choked, gasping for air as he knelt in front of the prince.
Jack stood over him, his blade pointed squarely at the man’s face.

“Go,” he repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The leader, knowing he and his gang had been defeated, his attempts to extort the villagers having been thwarted by a simple man in a gi. The leader grunts, the sound akin to that of a boar between a lion’s fangs. Without hesitation, he gestures frantically to his goons to rise to their feet… and flees into the dense underbrush of the forest at the edge of the kingdom.

The goons, climbing out of the gutters, fearful for their lives, scattered, the jirushi on their heads tattered and torn, disappearing into the forest as quickly as they had come. The villagers erupted into cheers, crowding around their savior. Jack accepted their gratitude silently, though his thoughts remained distant.




Later, one of the kids from earlier approached him, accompanied by his father. Both bowed solemnly, their hands dusted with rice grains, their “Thank you, Prince!” the child exclaimed, his big eyes shining with admiration.

Jack froze, struck by the boy’s innocent smile. It reminded him too much of Ashi—the way she used to look at him, full of hope despite everything. Her voice echoed in his mind: “Without Aku... I wouldn't have existed.”

Villagers knelt before him, murmuring their thanks. “You fight for us still,” one of them said. Jack nodded wordlessly, his purpose flickering like a dying flame. He turned and walked away, barely able to keep moving, as the villagers murmured their quiet praises, their solemn admiration for the venerable prince of the land that had just saved them from a vagrant attack.



Night fell, cloaking the land in darkness. Jack stood alone on a hill overlooking the horizon, his gi fluttering in the cool breeze. The stars above seemed impossibly distant, their light cold and indifferent.

Fifty years in the future. Erased. Undone by his blade when he killed Aku. Jack closed his eyes, imagining the lives that might have been saved—or lost—in the timeline he destroyed. The Scotsman, his wife, their daughters, Da Sa-moo-rai, the woolies, X-49 and his dog… He hoped they were all doing well wherever they were now.

A small smile touched his lips as he envisioned them thriving in a world free from Aku’s tyranny. Yet, even as he tried to find solace in that thought, unease crept into his chest.

The air wobbled—a distortion, unseen by the villagers below. Like heat haze, but wrong. Reeds rustled nearby, though there was no wind. Jack’s gut twisted as he stared into the distance, sensing something amiss.

 




Elsewhere, in her domain’s main chamber, the Earth Mother blinked in surprise. The small rat-like creature she had mocked for so long had grown stronger, its form now resembling a demonic capybara. Still, she smirked, lifting the back of her hand to her chin. The continents on her skin glowed brighter, as if amused by the absurdity of it all.

“How cute,” she lightly jibed. “The so-called Shogun of Sorrows still sulking in his half-serious attempt to siphon power for himself…”

“Don’t you underestimate me,” Aku hissed, his green nose wrinkling. “You know yourself that civilisation above has started to mistreat you...”

“…and I’ll fix that when I get up there,” Aku continued, grinning ear to ear in his monstrous form.

Dheghom’s brows furrowed, her mouth slightly ajar.

“Hm…”



 

In another subarea of her domain, she studied what looked like a corrupted, blackened memory shard. Its gnarled surface singed her skin, causing ruptures and earthquake-like patterns to form on her hands. Her ethereal blue-green eyes widened in confusion—and perhaps a hint of fear, as memories of a timeline long erased started to etch itself into her consciousness against her will, giving her a glimpse of the terror, the pain, the suffering, the exploitation that the one and only Shogun of Sorrows was responsible for.

"Long ago in a distant land, I, Aku, the Shapeshifting Master of Darkness, unleashed an unspeakable evil.
But a foolish samurai warrior wielding a magic sword stepped forth to oppose me.
Before the final blow was struck, I tore open a portal in time, and flung him into the future where my evil is law.
Now the fool seeks to return to the past and undo the future that is Aku."

""You! Thank you!"
"But it was your poison arrow and your hocus pocus that set me free!" (To Jack’'s father, the emperor of Japan, who tried to kill him with the poison arrow and failed inevitably giving Aku consciousness"
"Fool! Nothing of this world can harm me. For I am Aku, the Shogun of Sorrow, the Deliverer of Darkness, your new master. And you will bow to me."

“He… is stronger than I remember. But no matter. For you see, little Samurai, the world is mine! My eyes and ears are everywhere, nothing you do will go unseen! Quest as you may, but we will meet again when I see fit, in a time and place of my choosing! And it is I who shall put an end to the war started in that age long past, Samurai Jack! Bwa-ha-ha-ha!"

"Fool!"

"Useless bounty hunters! Is there no fighting style that can defeat his?... Yeeeeees. No fighting style can defeat his."
"MAAAH! The sword!"

"This is not over, Samurai! We shall meet again!"

"Who dares to summon... Oh, it is you."

"For eons I have terrorised this land. Every miserable creature trembled at the mere mention of my name. The pitiful people fright before my awesome power. But now, I am openly mocked by these measly urchins. Tales of the Samurai's heroics have spread through the world like a virus, but I will cure the world of this plague of hope. I will unleash such evil that even the most innocent soul will be consumed by terror!"

The demon, telling a story to kids.

"The spear struck the beast, transforming him into... beef jerky!"
"Once upon a time, there was a little girl with an adorable red cape and GREAT FLAMING EYEBROWS, who was beloved by all."

"The wolf attacked Lil Red Hood, not knowing that Lil Red Hood had laser eye beams, great combat skills, and a powerful uppercut that freed Lil Red's grandmother from the evil bowels of the wolf."

"BWAHAHAHA!"
"STUPID BOUNTY HUNTERS!"
"Do it yourself!? Yesssss."

 

"Yes. It is I, Samurai Jack. How incredibly observant you are."

"Aw, put that thing away, samurai. We all know what's going to happen. You'll swing your sword, I'll fly away, and probably say something like "I'll be back, samurai!", and then I'll flutter off over the horizon and we won't see each other for about a week, and then we'll start the whole thing all over again."

 

"I'll be back again, Samurai, you'll see! HAHAHAHAHA!!! See what I mean?"

One of his penultimate transgressions against mortals. 

The corruption of the woman who wanted to redeem herself. 

“I sniff my essence inside this girl. Well there was that one time..”

And him, almost using her as a proxy to win the war he'd waged against the samurai and his dynasty. 

"Tsk, tsk, tsk, tsk. Coulda, shoulda, woulda. It's all part of life's sweet sorrow. You're so lucky, samurai. Most of us have to live with our mistakes, but you get to DIE by yours!"

Finally, recollections jointly playing in her mind's eye, presumably from two points in time. 

Him, in the pit of hate, fighting a war against all of the Samurai's allies. Watching the samurai and his lover disappearing through a helical whorl of time. 

And him, getting put deep into the earth, his dominance shattered by the Samurai and Ashi. His legacy, never having even begun in the first place. 

Now, only a small fragment of him remained. 

Vengeful. Hateful. Contemptuous. 



"URGKHK." 

The shard suddenly palpitated, the shockwave reveberating all across the little subsection of the woman's domain. 

Dheghom clenched her jaw, suddenly feeling as if massive jaws of a beast had sunken into her side.

It was the first time that inspecting any fragments of lost consciousness had done this to her. 


“These are his memories,” she whispered as the twisted montage playing in her mind's eye concluded, clutching her face as tendrils of Aku’s essence curled around her being. “I can’t. I got too curious. Dear me…”

The Earth Mother clutches her face as she drops the memory shard.

"This... being wasn't from this world... He wasn't.. He was smited down by the three up in the heavens…”

"I have to stabilise myself.".

She breathes a sigh of relief as she sees her hands returning to normal, the storms on her skin subsiding, her internal turmoil settling back down as soon as the memory dump ends.

"My goodness. That power... he used to wield it. If this gets in his hands aga-!!!!"

The memory shard seems to glow with a dark, almost foreboding aura in front of her, as she quickly tries to bubble it once again.

"This... I have to hide it in a new sub-area. That should be the goal.. oh."

With a sickening, high-pitched sound, the containment bubble began to distort, its once-perfect sphere now laced with jagged, obsidian cracks. Inside, the memory shard, a coal-black fragment of tormented recollection, pulsed with a malevolent energy, its dark aura distorting the very fabric of the bubble, a silent scream against its celestial confinement.

Chapter 5: CV

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

“I’m growing… stronger.” The capybara-sized fragment of a demon supposedly long vanquished smiles mirthlessly at the Earth Mother’s agony and pain, as she steps back into the main chamber of her formerly paradisical domain. The tension is palpable, as thick as a blanket of creeping fog rolling slowly and ominously down the gentle slopes of hills.

“Look at you.” The demon pointed a finger in an accusatory manner at the Earth Mother, his voice dripping with mockery.

“My hands…” she murmured, staring as rivers of magma coursed erratically across her arms. Forests bloomed and withered chaotically on her shoulders, storms swirling violently within her glowing eyes. A sharp tang filled the air—burning plastic mixed with scorched rubber—as she gazed upon her corrupted visage. When the corruption subsided, her skin returned to its natural state, but faint scars remained, rifts in the continents, tiny drips of magma, small groups of cloudy squalls—a grim reminder of the cost of confronting such evil packed into one fragment of a memory.

 

“Did you… do something to me?” Dheghom demanded, her voice trembling with barely contained fury.

Aku grinned, touching the tips of his primate-like fingers together. “It’s really nothing relevant to you.”

“It’s something,” she shot back, defiance blazing in her eyes despite the toll it took on her.

“It’s you yourself who got too curious,” Aku jeered, leaning back against the bars of his cosmic prison. The material groaned under the strain of containing his burgeoning power.

“You think, for a second…”

Aku’s little snout seems to exhale a powdery substance akin to hot ash, as the gleam in his green irises intensifies with his growing contempt. Fangs extend outwards from the muzzle of his capybara-like form as he seems to wobble, shudder, and grow an extra few sizes, straining the ethereal material of his cosmic cage even further.

“That I… did something?”

The great Earth Mother—an eternal force of balance—felt something unfamiliar. Fear. Vulnerability. Aku had scarred her, not just physically but spiritually. And worse still, she doubted she could undo it.

 


 

The wind carried whispers through the crisp, dense fog of the forest, soft yet insistent. Jack knelt beneath the sakura tree—the same one where, not so long ago, he had released a ladybug into the sky. His fingers traced the grooves in the bark, lingering on the spot where Ashi could have stood beside him.

As fleeting as her existence was, the thoughts of her, and all the friends and allies he made along the way, would always remain eternal in his mind, he so resolved.

The ground was firm beneath him, yet he felt untethered, weightless in the way grief made time lose meaning. It had been… two years? Maybe more? Since his return to the past, since his kingdom celebrated his victory over the Shogun of Sorrows, since he was hailed as the savior of the world.

And yet, standing here now, under the falling petals of spring, he felt nothing but loss.

What was it all for? A voice whispered in his head, echoing the question he’d asked himself countless times since Ashi faded from existence. His hands tightened into fists, resting against his knees.

Ashi was gone.
And the world moved on without her.

Jack exhaled sharply, steadying himself before reaching into his sleeve. A small, fragile thing rested against his palm—a ladybug. It crawled across his calloused fingers, its red shell stark against the pale skin hardened by years of battle. Its tiny legs tickled his skin.

In the erased timeline, Ashi had smiled at this moment. The memory surfaced unbidden—her wide, curious green eyes; the softness in her expression as she watched the creature take flight, giggling like a child discovering wonder for the first time.

That moment felt infinite.
But it wasn’t.

Jack let out a quiet breath and raised his hand. The ladybug fluttered briefly, circling once before disappearing into the sky. Go to her, he thought, his chest tightening. But he didn’t let it linger. He couldn’t afford to.

He rose to his feet, brushing the dust from his gi. Clutching the hilt of his katana, he spoke aloud, his voice steady despite the storm raging inside him.

“I have to live.”
“For her…”

Memories flashed in his mind—vivid fragments of battles fought and lives saved.
The Imakandi freeing him from Aku’s control after a grueling ordeal.
The Shaolin monks training him since birth, instilling in him the vow to avenge their sacred abode destroyed by Aku.
His time in the rave, saving an innocent girl named Olivia from her psychopathic father, DJ Stylbator, who used music to enslave minds.

He smiled faintly, a flicker of warmth breaking through the cold grip of grief.
“And for everyone else.”

Then—the wind shifted.
A deep, unnatural hum thrummed through the air, subtle at first but growing louder. The leaves rustled unnaturally, twisting in directions they shouldn’t. The sky darkened, as if the sun itself held its breath.

Jack’s instincts sharpened. He turned, hand instinctively moving to his sword, scanning the forest around him. A whisper reached his ears—low, malevolent, familiar. He didn’t hear the words, but he knew the voice.

His grip tightened on his blade. His jaw locked.
The air was wrong. Something was coming.
Something old.
Something hungry.
Something… not yet dead.


The crimson torii gates rise majestically against the canvas of the evening sky, their lacquered surfaces catching the golden remnants of the setting sun. Beneath them, Jack walks in quiet contemplation, his geta-clad feet tapping softly against the smooth stone path. Each step feels deliberate, as though he is measuring not just distance but time itself—the weight of years pressing heavily on his shoulders.

Lanterns line the walkway, swaying gently in the breeze like fireflies tethered to strings. Their flickering light casts shifting shadows across the sacred grounds, illuminating patches of moss-covered stones and delicate chrysanthemum petals scattered along the edges of the path. The air carries the faint scent of burning incense mingled with the sweet, earthy aroma of the flowers, creating an almost otherworldly calm that contrasts sharply with the lively festival below.

He hears it then—a soft rustle of fabric, the careful fall of footsteps behind him.

“You are deep in thought,” comes a voice, soft yet commanding.

Jack turns slowly, his hand instinctively brushing against the hilt of his katana before he recognizes the figure approaching. His mother, the Empress, stands a few paces away, her posture regal and composed, her hands folded neatly within the sleeves of her ornate junihitoe. Her presence commands respect without effort, a testament to decades of wisdom and grace.

Beyond her, partially obscured by the shadow of a nearby tree, the Emperor watches silently, his gaze steady and unwavering, yet unintrusive, as he delicately smooths down his rust-coloured sokutai, straightening his kanmuri as properly as he can, his ivory tablet in hand, the purpose of which to jot down the details of the performance that will start very soon, as a memento of everything he and his family had gone through.

Jack lowers his eyes, his expression guarded. “It has been… some time since I last attended this festival.”

The Empress inclines her head slightly, acknowledging his words. “It is good to see you here,” she says, her tone measured but warm. There’s something in her voice—a subtle reassurance, perhaps, or an unspoken understanding.

A silence stretches between them, thick with unvoiced thoughts and shared history. The wind stirs again, carrying with it the faint whisper of leaves brushing against one another high above. Somewhere in the distance, a flute plays a mournful tune, its notes weaving through the stillness like threads of memories long washed away by the gentle waves of time.

“Do you think of her?”

The question hangs in the air, simple yet profound, cutting through the quiet like a blade. Jack freezes for a moment, his breath catching imperceptibly. The lantern light dances across his face, highlighting the faint lines etched into his features—marks of battles fought and burdens carried.

“Yes,” he admits finally, his voice low but steady. “I always do.”

The Empress studies him carefully, her sharp eyes taking in every nuance of his demeanor—the slight tightening of his jaw, the way his fingers curl briefly into fists before relaxing. She steps closer, her movements fluid and deliberate, until she is near enough to place a delicate hand on his arm. Her touch is light, almost imperceptible, yet it anchors him in the present.

“I believe we should all honour her by living,” she says softly, her words carrying the weight of someone who had faced loss and emerged stronger—or at least wiser—for it. Her gaze holds his for a moment longer before she withdraws her hand, turning toward the shrine ahead.

Jack exhales slowly, the tension in his chest easing ever so slightly. He nods, though whether to himself or to her, he isn’t sure. Straightening his shoulders, he follows her through the final torii gate, where the courtyard of the shrine awaits.

Ahead, the shrine glows with the warm light of countless lanterns, their reflections shimmering in the polished wooden floors. A crowd has gathered, anticipation buzzing quietly among them. At the center of the stage, preparations are underway for the performance—the dance of the Fleeting Princess, a story of love, loss, and longing that mirrors all too closely the echoes in Jack’s own heart.

As they take their places among the spectators, Jack allows himself a fleeting moment to breathe, to simply *be*. For now, amidst the flickering lights and whispered prayers, the ghosts of the past feel just a little farther away.




The scent of chrysanthemums lingered heavily in the air as the prince of the land walked among the festival crowd, his gi blending seamlessly into the sea of deep reds, golds, and whites. The Chrysanthemum Festival, known locally as the Kiku Matsuri, was in full bloom. Lanterns swayed gently under the early evening sky, casting long shadows over cobblestone paths. Children laughed, merchants called out their wares, and in the distance, a flute played a mournful tune.

He exhaled slowly, the wisps of his breath forming into mists in front of him, dissipating as quickly as the ghosts of the memories that lived in his head, and ONLY in his head.
For the first time in what felt like an eternity, he felt… present. Not trapped in the weight of his own grief. Not drowning in the ghosts of a timeline long gone. Just here.

His mother and father watched from a distance. The Empress, ever composed, studied her son carefully, noting how his shoulders—once burdened with a sorrow too heavy for one man to carry—seemed just a fraction lighter. The Emperor, stoic as always, merely nodded.

This is good, they thought. He is healing.
But even they couldn’t shake the feeling that this peace—like all things—would not last.

A performance was about to begin at the shrine’s courtyard. Drawn by the murmurs of the crowd, Jack followed the procession of nobles and common folk alike.

At the center of the stage, a lone dancer appeared, draped in a silk kimono the color of dusk. A hush fell over the crowd. She moved gracefully, deliberately. Her sleeves billowed like waves, her steps light as falling petals. The melodious ensemble began to play, the deep resonance of the biwa harmonizing with the high, piercing notes of the flute, of which the other performers played so gently yet diligently, never wavering on a note for too long or too short. The melody was slow, haunting—a requiem, not a celebration.

Jack knew this story before it was even spoken.

His fingers curled into his sleeves. His heartbeat slowed.

The dancer lifted her hand—delicate fingers reaching for something unseen. A man, dressed in the garb of a warrior, clad in a simple gi, entered the stage. He reached for her. She turned away.

The music swelled. War drums echoed through the courtyard.

The warrior battled unseen forces, wielding an imaginary sword. He struck, he parried, he fell. The Fleeting Princess—his love, his anchor—watched from a distance, never stepping closer, never interfering.

And then—
She began to fade.
Jack’s breath caught in his throat.
The light dimmed, the candles flickered, the torii gate in the background falling dark as the lanterns were gracefully snuffed out. The performer’s kimono turned sheerr. One moment, she was there—the next, she was gone.

The samurai on stage dropped to his knees, hands outstretched, reaching for someone no longer there.

A single chrysanthemum petal drifted onto the stage.

The performance ended. Silence blanketed the shrine.

Jack did not move.
The applause was hesitant at first, building into something fuller, but he didn’t hear it. His gaze remained fixed on the empty space where the dancer had stood.
A memory that refused to let go.

He sighed, and joined the audience in their raucous, emotional applause.

For the timeless princess. His ill-omened bride to be.., Ashi.

The woman who saved his life, yet couldn’t save hers. For she was part Aku.

And as he clapped, something deeper than the skin of his hands stung.




As Jack turned to leave, his parents escorting him, his loyal citizens bowing solemnly to make way for the prince and his family,, a cold wind rushed through the festival. The lanterns flickered. The air hummed with something wrong. For just a moment, his shadow stretched longer than it should.
He glanced over his shoulder, heart tightening.
Nothing.
Just the chrysanthemums swaying in the evening breeze.

Jack exhaled, shaking his head. Perhaps he was imagining things.

“Come, let’s go son.” said the emperor, his wife nodding in agreement.

Jack smiled softly as another tear rolled down his eye.

“Yes, Father and Mother.”




But far away, beyond time and space—Aku grinned in his prison.
And Dheghom, battered and bruised, watched with growing dread.

Aku stands tall over her weakened visage, shards containing the echoes of virtually all conscious life on earth raining down around them, their bubbles long shattered by the sudden surge in his power.

"I've broken out of those flimsy bars, you wench."

The Earth Mother ducks, grimacing as Aku's gnarled foot barely misses her head, the pendant around her neck intensifying in luminosity as she blocks another dark shockwave from Aku's lunges.

Thinking quickly, she grabs the pendant around her neck, and using her ability to create another subarea in her rapidly deteriorating domain of existence, she dives into the portal, and with a clench of her outstretched hand behind her, she attempted to close it as quickly as she'd frantically opened it.

But it was to no avail.

 

Aku burst through, a toothy grin on his face, lunging at her with wanton abandon, cackling maniacally.

 

The Earth Mother's eyes widen, as a balled up fist from the now-rabid demon makes contact with her face, momentarily summoning the wrath of bubbling magma to the surface of her left cheek.

"This is...! AHKH!”

She coughs, feeling her legs momentarily buckle from the impact as the entire fabric of reality seems to bend and twist at the demon’s every will, every swing of his fists, every attempt to sweep the Earth Mother off her feet more dangerous than the last.

With another sweeping gesture of her right hand, she tries to summon a greenish shield, with faint indents of the earth's continents on it's rounded surface - the protective measure JUST barely able to contain the sheer power of Aku's kick.

The demon grins.

"Your time will be over soon, you ornery old, decrepit ogress."

Dheghom clutches her left cheek, feeling the searing heat of the magma spilling out into the formerly serene oceanic-patterned portions of her skin.

"His sheer power... His... ambition is too str-!"

 

The shield, a shimmering testament to her defense, erupted in a blinding flash, Aku's power shattering it into a chaotic storm of crystalline fragments, like splinters of frozen starlight, the deafening high pitched sound ripping through the luminous expanse, the air crackling with residual energy. A wave of icy dread, like glaciers creeping along her vertebrae, accompanied the deafening explosion, and the sheer, overwhelming force of the destruction momentarily shattered her composure, leaving her reeling in a whirlwind of disbelief.

 

"Those.. those shards are following... him!"

The small splinters of memories of yellow, baby blue, magenta, orange, sapphire blue, pink, green and last but not least, the gnarled, jagged blood red shard and the corrupted, tendriled blackened one seem to coalesce around his fist, their pace akin to the planetary rings drifting lazily around Saturn.

Dheghom's eyes grow wide in shock.

Aku's grin, a jagged slash of cruel amusement, widened as she parried his blow, the force of their clash warping his very form. His silhouette stretched and distorted, an unnatural extension of limbs and torso, adding a disturbing height to his already imposing figure. He bared his teeth, a feral, almost shark-like grin, directed at the Earth Mother, whose former grace now seemed a distant memory in the face of his grotesque display.

 

"They're mine now."


"And they were always mine." 

Notes:

Woo! up to 5 done of this... story.

Just glad to have this out in some version. Hopefully my former co-writer, ErinsTheVanillish, whom I haven't seen online since 2023, would be proud. :p

Chapter 6: CVI

Chapter Text

 

Dheghom did not have the time nor strength to summon another shield before his fist collided with her torso.
 

Pure, searing agony.

Her form cracked. She felt herself breaking; the magma coursing through her veins spilled into the oceanic patterns on her skin, sending waves of torment rippling through her very being. His corruption—his essence, was inside her now, tainting what remained of her divinity.

 

Her vision blurred as she stumbled back, breath ragged and uneven. The shards surrounding him pulsed violently, flickering between forms, caught between past and present, between the erased and the rewritten.  

 

"He’s not just growing stronger," Dheghom realized, her voice trembling, barely audible over the chaos, the walls of her plane of existence seeming to warp and swirl around her, the usually vibrant, pulsing galaxies that sprinkled the walls of the domain now flickering erratically, as if their light was being sucked in by a black hole.

"He’s absorbing the corruption that festers above."  

 

Aku laughed, a low, guttural sound that warped the air around him. He rolled his shoulders, his monstrous form flickering between demon and something… more. Reality bent under his presence, twisting like molten glass under the unbearable heat of his fury.

 

"You stripped me of my dignity. Very likely, for eons," he snarled, cracking his knuckles, his abyssal fingers elongating unnaturally. "Mocked me in your little celestial prison, thought you had me bound for eternity, hmm?"  

 

He tilted his head, grinning ear-to-ear, too wide, too unnatural.  

 

"Tell me, you pathetic, cowering heap of trash."  

A pulse of darkness erupted from his body, forcing the ground beneath her to tremble—not out of fear, but submission.  

"How does it feel to lose? How does it feel…  

 

CRACK.

Dheghom barely registered the sound before his next strike shattered through her defenses.  

“..to be absolutely eviscerated by the very being you tried in vain to restrain?” 

She gasped—or tried to. Her throat seized as pain radiated outward, fracturing her resolve along with her body. Staggering backward, her legs faltered beneath her. The once-vibrant green of her domain dimmed; the space above blackened, mirroring her despair.  

And then… Aku reached out.  

 

His long, clawed fingers wrapped around her throat, lifting her effortlessly off the ground. She struggled, thrashed, summoned every ounce of strength left within her—but it wasn’t enough. Not this time. 

Aku leaned in close, his grin stretching impossibly wide, his voice dripping with venom.  

"You thought you were eternal."  

He tightened his grip, savoring her helplessness.  

"But even a god's existence is not impervious to the forces of time."  

 

Dheghom’s mind raced. There had to be a way. Something—anything—to stop him. Summoning the last dregs of her power, she clenched the pendant around her neck.  

The Earth’s final gift. Civilisation’s last gift to her.. Before they forgot.

 

Aku’s eyes flickered—he noticed, but it was too late.  

 

A portal tore open behind her, an erratic, desperate breach fueled by the pendant’s energy. With one final surge of willpower, Dheghom tore herself free, the force propelling her through the collapsing rift.  

 

Aku snarled, lunging after her, but the portal collapsed before he could follow.  

 

She was gone.  

 

For a moment, silence hung heavy in the void. The corrupted shards still pulsed faintly around him, whispering echoes of lives lost, stories unfinished.  

 

 

Aku threw back his head and laughed.

 

It was a laugh that shook the fabric of existence itself, reverberating across dimensions.  

 

"Run, run, little goddess," he sneered, his corrupted gaze gleaming with malice, licking his grotesquely protruding fangs, as he twirled the shards around his pointer finger.

"It won’t save you."  

 



In the fleeting moments of clarity amidst the chaos, Dheghom retreated into herself, seeking solace in the dwindling sanctum of her mind. In a small subarea of her domain, far removed from Aku’s relentless assault, she collapsed to her knees, her entire left side wracked with the cacophony of typhoons swirling across her skin. Earthquakes rumbled beneath the continents etched onto her flesh, while magma boiled and bubbled where Aku’s fists had struck her.


"How... did he... become so powerful...," she choked out, her voice breaking under the weight of despair.

Her hands trembled as she pressed them against the scorched earth of her inner sanctum, feeling the fractures spreading beneath her touch. Each tremor mirrored the shattering of her spirit.

"I'm... I've... oh no."

The realization hit her like a tidal wave, drowning her in its inevitability.

"I’ve failed."

Her voice was barely a whisper, swallowed by the storm raging both outside and within. For eons, she had stood as the guardian of balance, the keeper of memory, the eternal force that held existence together. And now, faced with the resurgence of Aku’s power, she saw the truth laid bare: she was no longer strong enough to stop him.

Her failure wasn’t just personal, it was universal. Every life, every timeline, every fragment of consciousness she had sworn to protect would be consumed by his insatiable ambition.






The low murmur of the palace had long since faded into the background. Beyond the paper-thin shoji doors, the soft shuffle of servants’ feet was barely audible, blending seamlessly with the distant calls of birds nesting in the ancient cypress trees. Rain tapped rhythmically against the tiled rooftops, its steady cadence creating an almost meditative stillness.

Jack sat alone on the tatami floor, cross-legged, his posture calm but deliberate. A single andon lamp flickered beside him, casting faint shadows that danced across the wooden beams of the room. The tea in his cup steamed gently, its rich, earthy aroma curling around him like a wisp of memory—a fleeting comfort in an otherwise heavy moment.

 

He took a slow sip, savoring the warmth as it spread through his chest.

 

For the first time in what felt like ages, the world seemed... peaceful.

 

Or so it appeared.

 

But peace, Jack knew, was often deceptive. Beneath the surface of this tranquil scene, something stirred—something unseen yet palpable. The air grew heavier, pressing against his lungs as though the walls themselves were closing in. Even the rhythmic drip of water from the courtyard’s bamboo fountain—the sound he’d found so soothing just moments ago—suddenly halted mid-drip, leaving behind an unnatural silence.

 

Jack froze.

 

His fingers tightened instinctively around the porcelain teacup as he glanced down at its contents. What had been a shimmering, leafy-green liquid moments before, seemed to darken ominously. An inky blackness bled outward from the center, twisting and curling like veins spreading across parchment, corrupting the purity of the tea.

 

A bitter tang filled his mouth, sharp and metallic, as though the very essence of the drink had turned sour.

 

The breeze outside stilled completely. Not even the whisper of leaves brushing against one another disturbed the oppressive quiet. Then, without warning, the candle beside him flickered violently—once, twice—and extinguished itself, plunging the room into shadow.

 

Silence. Suffocating. Absolute.

 

Jack placed the teacup carefully back onto the tray, his movements measured despite the unease clawing at the edges of his mind. He stared at the swirling darkness within the cup—not a reflection, not a shadow, but something alive, pulsing with malevolence.

 

And then came the voice. Soft, insidious, untraceable.

 

*"He has broken free."*

 

The words slithered into his consciousness, bypassing his ears entirely. They resonated deep within him, a pulse beneath his ribs, a whisper buried inside his own thoughts. Jack’s jaw tightened. His breath caught for a fraction of a second before he forced himself to exhale slowly, grounding himself in the present.

 

It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be.

 

Yet the weight of those four words settled over him like a shroud.

 

A quiet knock broke the silence.

 

The shoji doors slid open soundlessly. His mother, the Empress, entered first, her presence commanding yet serene, her every movement as graceful as the oceans before a storm. She carried herself with quiet authority, her hands folded neatly within the sleeves of her ornate junihitoe. The Emperor followed closely behind, his expression unreadable but watchful, the ceremonial shaku held firmly in one hand, its polished surface gleaming faintly in the dim light.

 

Jack did not turn to face them immediately. Instead, he pressed his fingertips into his palms, steadying himself. His gaze lingered on the extinguished candle, the untouched tea, the creeping darkness pooling in the corners of the room.

 

“It has begun,” he murmured under his breath, his voice low but tinged with resignation.

 

“Son,” the Empress said softly, her tone laced with both concern and understanding. “Your grimace says it all.”

 

The Emperor stepped forward, his piercing gaze flicking between the tea, the candle, and Jack’s rigid form. “Is there something troubling you?”

 

Jack finally looked up, meeting their eyes. His own were dark, unreadable pools of emotion—anger, fear, determination—all swirling together beneath the surface.

 

“…Something’s off.”

 

He turned his head slightly, gazing past them toward the distant gardens. The wind no longer stirred the branches, and the lanterns from the Kiku Matsuri, which should have bathed the night in warm hues, were conspicuously absent. Shadows stretched unnaturally long across the grounds, swallowing the light whole.

 

The night felt too deep.

 

Too silent.

 

Somewhere far away, beyond time and space, Aku laughed—a low, guttural sound that reverberated through existence itself. The Earth Mother cowered beneath him, her once-mighty form trembling under the weight of his corruption.

 





A torrent of shards—fragments so meticulously harvested from the streams of time that Dheghom had been tasked to oversee—rained down upon them, dissolving into wisps of mourning echoes as Aku grinned, his triumph palpable.

 

Dheghom’s blue-green pupils widened in horror as magma surged beneath her skin, typhoons swirled violently across her shoulders, and earthquakes rippled through the once-pristine patterns of continents etched onto her flesh. Aku’s oppressive aura pressed against her like a suffocating tidal wave, crushing what little strength remained within her.

 

Her hands trembled uncontrollably.

 

“He’s… in this subarea,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the chaos around her. “I’m… done for.”

 

Aku crossed his blackened arms, his grin widening as he watched her kneel, her trembling hands gripping the silky fabric of her toga. The jagged black shard—the repository of all his memories from the erased timeline—floated toward him, tracing graceful figure-eight motions between his six horns.

 

“No… NO!” Dheghom shouted, lunging desperately for the shard. “It…!”

 

“Too late,” Aku sneered, his voice dripping with malice.

 

The black shard hovered momentarily before pressing itself firmly against Aku’s throat, merging seamlessly with his humanoid form. A surge of dark energy pulsed outward as the shard fused with him, restoring what was rightfully his. 

 

Granting him worthy of HIS own power.

 

A massive shockwave erupted from the merged entity, sending Dheghom careening backward onto the cracked floor of her domain. Aku rose gracefully into the air, his arms crossed, his newfound height casting an imposing shadow over her shattered sanctuary. His raw power now far eclipsed hers, leaving no doubt of his dominance.

 

“Please…” Dheghom begged weakly, her voice strained and broken. “Don’t…”

 

Aku twirled the remaining eight shards in his hand, momentarily breaking his scornful glare to admire their vibrant hues: blood red, yellow, icy baby blue, sapphire, magenta, orange—and finally, pink and green. Each shard gleamed faintly, pulsing with the remnants of lives long erased or forgotten.

 

“Don’t? Don’t?” Aku mocked, his laughter echoing through the chamber.

 

With a flick of his wrist, he sent the rest of the memory shards from above hurtling toward the stricken, earth-patterned woman like a hailstorm. She raised her hands instinctively, summoning a shimmering shield just in time to deflect their impact. But even as the shards ricocheted harmlessly aside, the strain showed on her face. Her shield wavered, then collapsed entirely under the relentless assault.

 

“You… are destroying the… memories of…” she gasped, coughing violently as a thick, viscous black liquid dripped from her lips, staining the constellation-studded floors below.

 

“Memories, shmemories,” Aku spat, his voice laced with disdain. “They’re not relevant to me. They don’t have my power flowing within them. Do you really think that I need to store them for later?”

 

He cackled, raising his fist abruptly. With a sharp clench of his fingers, the earth mother’s shield shattered into thousands of glittering fragments, scattering across the ground like fallen stars. Her power was spent.

 

“I accept… my fate,” Dheghom murmured, her body wracked with spasms of pain. Another violent cough brought forth more of the black ichor, pooling at her knees as she slumped forward.

 

“But you know what?” Aku said, tilting his head mockingly. He gestured lazily, and the green bubbles she had lovingly embalmed the shards re-formed around them, sealing away their contents once more.

 

“I’ll spare you, for now.” His brows furrowed, his expression twisting into something grotesque—a wicked grin stretching too wide, his nostrils flaring, his fangs glinting menacingly.

 

“I enjoy making sure that…” 

He trailed off, his voice oozing sadism.

“...those who’ve overstayed their welcome suffer.” 

 

Aku laughed again, the sound echoing like chalk scraping against jagged, gnarled nodules of rock. In an instant, his essence coalesced into the shape of a black meteor. With an effortless leap, he corkscrewed upward, smashing through the walls of the formerly serene realm. The eight shards followed obediently in his wake, their colors dimming as they vanished beyond the breach.

 

The Earth Mother collapsed, panting heavily, her energy utterly depleted. She didn’t know how long it would take—or if she ever could—to recover from the devastation wrought by Aku’s return. As she stared into the yawning abyss left behind by his departure, one truth crystallised in her mind:

 

He would come back for her.

 

“And when he does…” she whispered hoarsely, freezing mid-thought as sheets of ice spread rapidly across her spine. Her fists clenched involuntarily, nearly pounding against her thighs in frustration.

 

“He… won’t spare me.”

 

Her voice broke as tears welled up in her eyes, though none fell. There was no solace here, only the cold certainty of failure.

 

“I… can only hope that… someone else can… defeat him in my stead.”

 

Her shoulders slumped, her head bowed low.

 

“I’ve failed.”

 

The silence that followed was deafening—a void where hope had once flickered, however faintly. Above her, the crack in the dome pulsed faintly, its swirling darkness mirroring the despair settling deep within her soul.

 

 

Chapter 7: CVII

Chapter Text

 



The air hung heavy with unease, thick as incense smoke curling through the imperial chambers. Though none dared speak aloud, their fears whispered silently in the rigid set of shoulders, the fleeting glances exchanged beneath lowered brows.

 

A retainer knelt before the Emperor, his resplendent armor gleaming faintly under the soft glow of paper lanterns. His forehead nearly touched the tatami mats, but even in his submission, there was no mistaking the tension coiled within him like a drawn bowstring. 

 

"Your Majesty," he began, his voice steady yet strained, "the Western border stirs with ill omens. The sky fractures like cracked porcelain, and the earth trembles beneath an unseen weight."

 

The court murmured softly, the sound barely audible over the rustling silk of ceremonial robes. The bakufu—the military government that truly held sway behind the throne—had already issued its decree: an army must be mobilised. No time could be spared for hesitation or doubt.

 

The Emperor sat motionless on his dais, the golden crest of his clan shimmering dimly in the flickering light. Beside him, his son—the prince, the warrior, the exile who had once faced the future itself—watched with a grim expression etched into his features. Samurai Jack’s hand rested lightly on the hilt of his ancestral katana, though his eyes betrayed nothing but resolve.

 

"Prepare the men," the Emperor commanded, his voice cutting through the chamber like steel. "We will march at dawn."

 

A lower-ranking samurai hesitated, his gaze flicking uncertainly between the Emperor and the polished wooden floor. "Your Majesty, do you wish to travel via norimono?" he asked cautiously. The palanquin—a symbol of divine authority—would shield the ruler from both the elements and the prying eyes of commoners.

 

The Emperor rose slowly, adjusting the flowing folds of his sokutai, the ceremonial robe cascading around him like water spilling over stone. At his side, Jack mirrored the movement, his presence grounding yet foreboding. His sword, sheathed at his hip, seemed to hum faintly with anticipation.

 

"No," the Emperor said firmly. "We will walk."

 

And so they walked.

 

Through the capital city, where rows of bowed heads lined the streets. Peasants paused mid-labor, merchants halted their trade, and children clung to their mothers’ sleeves as whispers rippled through the crowd like wind through rice paddies. All eyes turned skyward, drawn inexorably to the heavens… which were shifting.

 

At first, it was subtle—a ripple, like ink bleeding across silk. Then came the fracture.

 

Abyssal blackness clawed its way across the sky, jagged edges shimmering like obsidian shards. A great rift yawned open, wide enough to swallow the sun whole. A wind that did not belong to this world howled through the streets, carrying whispers in a language long forgotten by mortal tongues.

 

Jack and the Emperor did not falter. Behind them followed four thousand warriors of the Shogunate, their armor clinking rhythmically with each step, the only sound breaking the oppressive silence. Beyond the city's outskirts, past verdant fields where the rice paddies swayed gently in the unnatural breeze, they found the source of the corruption.

 

A tear in reality. A gateway into something wrong.

 

And from it stepped him.

 

This was not the monstrous shade Jack had slain 2 years ago, nor the grotesque abomination that had haunted his nightmares. This Aku was smaller, more contained—but no less terrible. His six horns crowned his head like twisted thorns, and his once-fiery red eyebrows now burned with a cold, spectral blue. His hands, humanoid yet uncanny, flexed idly, as if rediscovering sensation after centuries of dormancy.

 

The night itself seemed to bow before him, the stars dimming in deference to his presence.

 

Aku smiled.

 

"So…" His voice was smooth, almost pleasant, dripping with mockery that masked deeper malice. He extended his arms wide, as if welcoming old friends into an embrace.
"How long has it been? How many lifetimes have passed since we last met?"

 

Silence stretched taut, broken only by the distant rustle of leaves caught in the unnatural wind.

 

Then, the Emperor stepped forward, his voice unwavering despite the weight pressing down upon the moment.

 

"Aku."

 

The demon’s grin widened, sharp teeth glinting faintly in the fractured light.

 

"Ah… I see my name still carries weight here." He tilted his head slightly, his tone shifting from amusement to something colder, darker. "But you’ll find the world has changed, Emperor."

 

His blue flames flickered, casting eerie shadows that danced unnaturally against the warped reality behind him. The air shimmered, whispering secrets too ancient for human ears to comprehend.

 

"I am not simply the Shogun of Sorrow anymore," Aku declared, spreading his arms wider as if embracing the encroaching darkness. 

 

"I am the Bringer of Benevolence."








The air above the imperial capital shuddered violently, splitting open like torn silk. An abyssal vortex yawned wide, its edges writhing with black flames that consumed light itself. The sky darkened unnaturally, casting long shadows over the once-vibrant, bustling kingdom. Birds scattered in panic, their cries swallowed by the oppressive silence that followed.

Aku surveyed the land with detached curiosity, rolling his shoulders as though stretching after centuries of slumber. He inhaled deeply, his lips curling into a smug grin.

“Ahh… this wretched air,” he murmured, his voice smooth yet laced with disdain. “It has changed. I have changed.”

The imperial guards flinched instinctively, gripping their spears tighter. Their armor gleamed faintly in the fading light, each piece meticulously crafted—lacquered plates adorned with intricate designs of dragons and phoenixes, symbols of strength and rebirth. Yet none of these warriors moved forward. Fear rooted them to the spot.

 

“Aku,” The emperor said, his voice steady despite the tremor beneath it.

Aku tilted his head slightly, feigning surprise. “Ah, the esteemed ruler of this pitiful realm. How quaint.” His grin widened, revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth. “I trust you remember me?”

The Emperor did not respond. His gaze shifted briefly to the army behind him—thousands of samurai ready to defend their homeland. But even he could sense the storm brewing in Aku’s calm demeanor.

Aku stood there, motionless.

“What are you waiting for, old man?” The demon guffawed, adjusting one of the crooked horns on his head, as if priming himself for business as usual.

And it was at that moment, that the emperor had made his decision. 



“TROOPS, ATTACK!” the Emperor bellowed, raising his sword high. His voice cut through the stillness like thunder, rallying his battalions. 

Four thousand warriors surged forward as one, banners snapping in the wind, battle horns blaring defiantly. Their armor clinked softly with every step, lacquered plates catching what little sunlight remained. Each soldier carried centuries of tradition on their backs, their loyalty to the empire unshakable, their resolve unwavering.

At the forefront stood Jack, his katana gleaming with righteous fury. His stance was firm, his breathing measured. This was not just a battle; it was a reckoning. For years, he had trained, fought, and sacrificed everything to protect this land. And now, here was the source of all suffering, standing tall and unafraid.

But Aku? He didn’t even flinch.

Instead, he crossed his arms casually, his clawed fingers tapping rhythmically against his elbow. His grin was infuriatingly calm, almost bored.

“Oh, how predictable,” he drawled. “Humans always resort to violence when faced with inevitability.”

Jack narrowed his eyes. There was something different about Aku this time, something darker, more primal. Gone was the flamboyant trickster who relied on illusions and tricks. In his place stood a creature of pure malice, confident in his dominance.


The first wave of samurai reached Aku, their blades flashing silver as they swung with precision. Steel met blackened, demonic flesh, or so they thought.

Aku caught their weapons effortlessly, his bare hands gripping the precise, sharpened blades with ease. The samurai froze, stunned by his casual display of strength. 

CRACK.

Their swords shattered like brittle twigs, shards scattering across the ground. Panic rippled through the ranks as Aku smiled wider, savoring their fear.

He grabbed one warrior by the face, lifting him off the ground as though he weighed nothing. With a single motion, he slammed the man into the earth so hard it cratered, sending shockwaves rippling outward. Dust and debris clouded the battlefield, choking the air.

Another samurai lunged, aiming for Aku’s side. Aku sidestepped fluidly, his movements deceptively graceful. His clawed hand tore through the warrior’s armour as if it were paper, leaving deep gashes in the flesh beneath. Blood splattered across the ground, painting the battlefield red.

And yet, Aku did not rely on magic or transformations. No beams of energy erupted from his palms, no tendrils of darkness snaked around his victims. Instead, he fought with brutal efficiency, tearing through the army with sheer physical prowess. Every punch landed with devastating force, every strike calculated to break both body and spirit.


“Huh… this is…” the demon’s eyes widen, his lips upturned in a moment of pure irritation, the blue flames of his eyebrows crackling with ferocity, as wave upon wave of samurai crashed down upon him, intent on making sure Aku was dead once and for all.

“This is what you call resistance?”


Swing upon feint upon parry of swords rained down upon the demon, a torrent of metal rushing toward Aku. However, with one or two swipes of his clawed hands, coupled with the sheer brute power he wielded, blades fell one by one like twigs snapping off the corpse of a gnarled tree. He twisted some blades, bending them, then stomping on the bodies of the samurai, leaving them bloodied, bruised and battered, writhing in the blackened soil of the ground.


In spite of their numbers, the samurai began to falter. Some turned to flee only to find themselves ensnared by Aku’s relentless pursuit. Others chose to fall silent to Aku’s gnarled fists and sweeping kicks, honouring their oath to fight for the side of good, even if it meant the possibility of death.

He grabbed one retreating warrior by the throat, lifting him high above the ground.

“Leaving so soon?” Aku sneered, his voice dripping with mockery. Without hesitation, he hurled the man into another fleeing soldier, their helmets denting inward with a sickening crunch.

Jack stood there, shocked. The demon, his rival, the ultimate evil… was here nonchalantly kicking and punching troops left, right and centre. Without a single weapon on his body.

“We…  have to get Aku!” He thought, leaping to his feet away from the group of daimyos, towed closely in hand by his father, the Emperor.

“Yes my son,” The emperor solemnly replied, wielding his own katana, unsheathing it from his robes. “We have to offer our troops assistance.”


“Akuuuuuuu!” The emperor shouted, leaping off his feet and catching an apparent moment of weakness.

Aku didn’t flinch. His unamused gaze met the emperor’s infuriated, bloodthirsty snarl.






“Hah.” A single chuckle escaped Aku’s green lips, the tone almost rancid and venomous in nature, threatening to corrupt the already musty iron-tanged air around it.


Jack and the remaining warriors momentarily stood silent, their mouths agape at the horrific sight

The emperor, their figurehead, the king of the nation on the ground, limbs splayed outward in a distorted, mangled manner, his normally stoic, solemn face contorted grotesquely, his front teeth knocked out. His blade had been snapped and bent, lying at his side in pieces, the dampness of his crimson staining his sokutai in a sickening display of morbidity.

Aku grinned.

“Try it again.”

Jack’s gaze softened for a moment and lowered. His father, the emperor of his kingdom, the one to originally stifle Aku… suddenly now on the ground, wounded, mutilated and brutalised by the demon that had haunted them across space and time.

Aku smoothed his suit, straightening his blue tie and his collar. Behind him, the abyssal rift hummed, as the all-encompassing darkness seemed to almost guffaw at the laughable display of a pathetic attempt to defend their kingdom by the puny humans that Aku had so effortlessly dismantled.



“Aku… AAAAAAAKUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!”

The shrill cry of a son grieving for his father, who lay unconscious on the ground, barely breathing, rang through the air like a torrent of blades piercing through a fog denser than a black hole’s singularity.
Jack and the rest of the remaining men charged at Aku, seeing red, his geta and their boots digging into the charred ground in an effort to take the demon out once and for all.

They needed to take him out. NOW.


But then… Aku grinned. The prince faltered as Aku seemed to do a quick 180, spinning on one foot with the graceful motions of a swan, and without hesitation, he swiped past Jack and the troops, and sped on foot, away to the main centre of the imperial capital, intent on causing as much suffering as he could.

Jack quickly motioned for some troops to stay there with his father on the ground, and without hesitation chased after the demon, running down the side of the hill at breakneck speed back to the city centre.

And then he stopped momentarily.

From afar, he saw the sky seemingly turn black across the palace, his childhood home, as the stone walls crumbled, sending the once majestic palace with it’s striking red, curved roofs and it’s pristine white, wooden walls suddenly crumble into flaming dust, with the debris raining down upon the earth, sending ashes and embers fluttering down into the city below, with the cries of children, the screams of mothers, and the anguished yells of men seeming to peak in intensity and volume. The din was overwhelming.

Jack had seen this before. And yet, he had NEVER seen anything like it either.


“He… he… came back… How…”

Jack sped through the charred ruins of his kingdom, in places where there used to be a bustling marketplace, wooden houses, neatly trimmed gardens… was now only blackened ash and gray, thick dust. Toxic smoke filled the air, burning Jack’s eyes, causing him to cough and gag as he placed his arm over his hand, using the fabric of his trusty gi to block the noxious, malignant fumes from damaging his respiratory system even further.





He pushed forward, carving a path through the chaos. His blade flashed with determination, slicing through any obstacle in his way. But no matter how fast he moved, Aku remained ahead of him, a looming figure of destruction.

The remaining warriors formed a desperate last stand, encircling their prince in a protective ring. Spears bristled outward, shields overlapping in a makeshift barricade. They shouted war cries, trying to bolster their courage.

But Aku simply walked forward, step by deliberate step. His grin never wavered, his confidence unshaken. He let them charge at him, knowing full well the futility of their efforts.

 

Finally, Jack broke through the crowd, his katana raised high. Their eyes met—man and demon, hero and villain. Time seemed to slow as Jack struck, his blade aimed true.

And yet..  it did not cut.

Aku tilted his head, his expression one of mild amusement.

“This again?” he asked, his tone dripping with condescension as he wrenched the blade in his right fist away from the grip of the venerable samurai.

Jack stared at his katana, disbelief etched onto his face. The legendary weapon—the same blade that had vanquished countless foes—was useless against Aku’s newfound resilience...? How..? 

Before he could react, Aku’s fist slammed into his gut with bone-crushing force. Jack flew backward, crashing into the ruins of the castle wall. Pain exploded across his ribs as he collapsed, coughing blood onto the cracked stone.

 

The Empress, cowering in a corner, watched in horror as the royal palace began to crumble, its foundations shaking under the weight of Aku’s wrath. The once-mighty structures toppled like dominoes, burying centuries of history beneath rubble and ash.

Jack struggled to rise, his vision blurred. Through the haze, he saw Aku standing victorious amidst the carnage. Thousands lay defeated at his feet, their bodies strewn across the battlefield like discarded toys.






The ruins of the once-proud kingdom stretched out behind Aku like the carcass of some long-dead beast. Twisted spires of burnt, charred wood and stone jutted into the sky, their surfaces scorched and fractured as though they had been clawed apart by an unseen force. What had once been a place of order, tradition, and divine rule now lay in shambles—its streets choked with ash, its banners torn and trampled, its people reduced to wailing shadows beneath collapsing walls.

 

Even the air itself felt tainted, heavy with the stench of sulfur and decay. It clung to the lungs, suffocating any who dared breathe too deeply. The light of the sun struggled to pierce through the haze, casting everything in shades of gray and black—a world stripped of color, drained of hope.

 

And standing amidst this desolation, framed by the shattered remnants of torii gates that bent unnaturally around him like charred skeletal fingers, was Aku. His presence warped reality itself—the echoes of his footsteps delayed, distorted, as if time recoiled from his very existence. He moved with deliberate slowness, savoring every moment of fear and despair radiating from those who remained.


The ever-so-graceful and regal empress Empress, silhouetted against the crumbling remains of the imperial palace, was defiant even in defeat, refusing to kneel despite the overwhelming odds stacked against them. the Empress clasped her hands tightly, her knuckles white with strain yet unwavering in purpose. Her eyes burned with quiet fury, reflecting decades of sacrifice and loss endured for the sake of their people.

 

She was the last bastion of resistance—not because they believed victory was possible, but because surrender was unthinkable.

 

Aku’s lips curled into a cruel grin as he took in the sight before him. “Hmmm… the old man and his wife… still live.” His voice was low, dripping with mockery, each syllable slicing through the oppressive silence like a blade. He stepped closer, his movements languid, almost casual, yet brimming with menace.

 

“Look at you,” he sneered, tilting his head as though studying insects pinned to a board. “My, my… what a pitiful sight.”

A group of four samurai arrive back, huffing and puffing, their armour heaving up and down with their erratic movements. with the emperor on top of a bamboo stretcher. Motionless, his face remained bandaged with traditional reeds and cloth, as if to hide the world of the embarrassment of being dealt a cosmically devastating blow to his face and spirit by the demon himself, Aku.


“Let’s try this.” Aku smiles softly, watching the ant-like display of puniness as the soldiers tried their best to heave their wounded figurehead across the barren wasteland, the remains of a kingdom now once again ravaged by the ostensibly self-proclaimed "Bringer of Benevolence". 

 

With a lazy wave of his hand, the kanmuri atop the Emperor’s head—the ceremonial cap symbolizing divine authority and wisdom—began to blacken. Its intricate gold embellishments melted away, leaving behind only brittle ash that crumbled and scattered on the wind. The Emperor did not flinch, though Aku saw it—the flicker of horror in his battered eyes, brief but unmistakable.

Jack could only watch in horror, his feet frozen to the ground as the untouchable demon before him seemed to ravage the remaining parts of his honour and his family’s efforts to protect and serve his people.

 

“That look…” Aku murmured, momentarily glancing at Jack, then returning his gaze to the emperor, his grin widening predatorily.

“I remember it well. The day you all, the descendants of this bewitched lineage, begged the gods for salvation, pitifully asked for a ‘holy’ weapon that would smite me…”

“Do you still believe they will answer this time around?”

 

The Emperor clenched his jaw in resigned disbelief, still lying on his stretcher, his silence speaking volumes. Behind them, the cries of the suffering echoed louder—the city ablaze, its people fleeing in terror, their screams mingling with the crackle of flames and the groan of collapsing buildings.

 

But Aku did not strike. Not yet.  

He savored this moment—the quiet, the anticipation, the weight of despair pressing down on everyone present.

 




“Aaaaakuuuuuuuuu!”

 

It was a cry born of pure fury, raw emotion tearing through the suffocating stillness like a thunderclap. Jack burst forward, his katana gleaming faintly in the dim, tainted light. This weapon—the legendary blade forged by the gods themselves, imbued with the power to vanquish evil—was his ultimate trump card. It had never failed him before. Never faltered. Never broken.

 

Aku did not turn.  

He did not react.  

He did not flinch.

 

Jack swung with everything he had, pouring all his strength, all his rage, all his desperation into the blow. The blade struck true, colliding with a cube of opaque black glass that materialized inches from Aku’s head.


And stopped.

 

For a single, agonizing heartbeat, there was nothing but silence.  

 

Jack’s eyes widened, his breath hitching audibly as he stared at the blade lodged against the impenetrable surface. The sword—the sacred instrument of justice, the very embodiment of hope—did not cut. It did not crack. It did not pierce. Not even a scratch marred the flawless obsidian barrier.

“Not.. again…!” 

 

For the SECOND time in his life.

For the SECOND time in his entire existence.  

Jack’s sword had failed him.

 

The realization hit him like a physical blow, sinking into his bones with the weight of inevitability. His grip tightened reflexively on the hilt, his knuckles turning white as his arms began to tremble—not from exertion, but from sheer, unrelenting fear.

 

Why?  

Why wasn’t the sword cutting?  

Why?

 

WHY?

The Emperor and Empress watched in stunned silence, their faces pale, their hearts sinking alongside their son’s. Their greatest warrior, their last hope, stood frozen in disbelief, his weapon rendered useless. The symbolism was crushing—a divine relic failing in the face of overwhelming corruption.

 

Aku finally turned his head, his expression eerily calm. There was no smugness, no gloating, no triumphant laughter. Just indifference. Pure, cold detachment, as if the outcome had always been inevitable.

 

“This accursed dynasty,” he said softly, his voice carrying none of its usual bombast. Instead, it was flat, dismissive, a verdict delivered without passion or hesitation.

 

Jack staggered back, his trembling hands lowering the katana slightly. Fear gripped him tighter than ever before, coiling around his chest like chains. Something was wrong. Something deeper, darker, more insidious than mere physical resistance. The sickness seeped into his soul, gnawing at the edges of his resolve.

 

And then, he felt it.  

A shift.  

A fracture.  

A deep, dreadful sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

 

Everything had indeed changed.




“You can’t touch me.” Aku sneered, hands crossed on his immaculately ironed black suit, straightening his tie once again. “Not with that irrelevant blunted artifact, at least.”


Jack’s eyes widen once again as Aku snapped his fingers, and in an instant, the portal rift from before at the outskirts of the once-pristine kingdom seemed to manifest into thin air in front of him, the hum of the void now warping everything in it’s immediate radius, seeming to suck in all hope, positivity and radiance the world had to offer.


“It seems my time is up here.. Well that’s good. It lasted for 20 minutes. Good enough I suppose… I’ll have to close the rift above..”

Aku turns his attention to the gigantic abyssal crack, above, now shrinking at an alarming speed, and then at a curiously pocket-sized watch, it’s green display glowing eerily amidst the death, destruction and discord that he’d caused.

“...and get out of here.”

He takes one last long panoramic look, rubbing his hands with glee at the destruction of the kingdom, as more structures burn, more anguished wails, screams and groans fade away into silence, and as the remains of the imperial palace continue to fall around them, the fading embers shimmering and fading away just before they made contact with the despotic surface around them.

Jack watched, mouth agape, beside him his weeping mother and his bloodied father, along with five other troop members who had just sat down on the scorched, singed ground to collect their senses and understand the scope of the destruction.

Only one question remained in Jack’s mind, as he almost let his cherished katana drop from his hands.

Why?”

Aku grinned, a toothy, malevolent grin, rubbing his right fist with his left palm as he sauntered nonchalantly into the dark space, presumably of his own doing.

“You thought I was dead. That’s why.”

And with that, as the abyssal crack remained open in front of him, Aku’s cackles trailed behind him as he faded into the darkness of the space, with the remaining survivors watching in consternation, dejection and trepidation at the sequence of events that had just happened earlier. 

Chapter 8: CVIII

Chapter Text

 

The air was thick with ash and sorrow as Jack stood before his parents, the Emperor and Empress, their faces etched with grief but also quiet resolve. Behind them stretched the ruins of what had once been a proud kingdom—smoldering rubble where the imperial palace once stood, charred fields where crops had grown, and silent streets where laughter used to echo. Aku’s wrath, and whatever apocalypse he had summoned, had left nothing untouched. “Father… Mother…” Jack began, his voice hoarse from days of battle and despair.

He knelt before them, bowing deeply in reverence, though his heart felt heavy enough to crush him. “I failed you both. I failed our people.”

The Emperor, from his bamboo stretcher, placed a weathered hand on Jack’s shoulder, his grip firm despite the weariness that lined his eyes.

“No, my son. You have not failed us. This land may lie in ruins now, but your journey does not end here.”

The Empress stepped forward, her formerly pristine junihitoe trailing softly over the cracked earth. Her expression softened as she cupped Jack’s face in her hands.

“Go, my child. Find the source of this corruption. Set things right—not just for us, but for all who suffer under Aku’s shadow.”

Jack rose slowly, his katana resting heavily against his hip.

His gaze lingered on the abyssal rift that loomed in the distance—a jagged tear in reality, pulsating with unnatural energy.

It was Aku’s doing, yet it offered the only path forward. “I will return,” Jack vowed, his voice steady despite the storm raging within him. “And when I do, I will make sure no one suffers like this again.

“Son…” The emperor and empress of the land reached their hands out in unison one last time.

Jack, with his hair wild and his brow furrowed, turned back to his parents, and without hesitation, he leapt into his mother’s embrace, tears flowing in his eyes.


The emperor too, clutched his son’s hand, wincing as the pain in his battered visage shot through him, akin a tsunami crashing into muddy shores.

“Go, son.” said the fallen king of the land.

Jack nodded, a fiery warmth coursing through his veins like liquid fire, a desire for revenge and also answers. How had Aku come back? How was he so powerful? How had he taken out 4000 men with weapons, without shapeshifting or even running away?

“I will... find some way to defeat him and avenge you all.”

And with that, Jack turned away from his grief-stricken parents, shuffling towards the dark voidscape of the fracture in reality, it’s borders shrinking ever so gradually.

He paused for a moment, looking one last time at his parents. With tears in his eyes, he waved at them, and the brave troops that had rescued his father, to which the Emperor, Empress and the troops reciprocated.

With a deep breath… he took one step forward. Then another. Then another.

And the abyss hugged him as his silhouette disappeared from his grieving parents.

As the emperor, empress and the troops took stock of the situation, the destruction on their kingdom wrought by Aku, a fleeting whisper in the wind could be heard in the direction of the area where the abyssal portal once stood.

“I will miss you, Mother and Father.”


The emperor and empress smiled through their tears.

They had faith in their son to succeed.






The liminal space in the abyss was unlike anything Jack had ever experienced. It was dark, unforgiving, neither solid nor ephemeral—a place where time itself seemed to unravel. Warped echoes of different eras flickered around him like ghosts caught in a perpetual loop. He saw glimpses of futures never realised and pasts long forgotten:

A cityscape overrun by beetle-bots, its citizens reduced to slaves.

A young girl with blue skin and matted white hair, clad in frayed rags, clutching a tattered doll, her eyes hollow with despair, the pictograph between her antennas showing a sad “:C”.

Himself, older and battered, his long beard, regal and wisened, red cape flowing with the winds, standing alone atop a mountain of swords.

Whispers filled the void—fragments of conversations, cries of anguish, laughter tinged with madness.

They swirled around him, pulling at his resolve like tendrils of smoke, despite not granting his physical form access to their timelines.. “This cannot be real…” Jack muttered, his hand tightening around his sword.

But even as he tried to focus, doubt crept in.

What if this timeline—the one he sought to save—was already beyond repair? What if Aku had won completely, rewriting history itself?


The darkness was suffocating, snaking around him like a python drawn to it’s prey. The lone samurai could not help but feel unsettled, for if this was the beginning of another long, arduous 50 years in the future, akin to that of the erased timeline, he was not prepared to undergo that much suffering again.

For a brief moment, flashes of memories.

 

The sea-loving happy-go-lucky Triseraquins.

the jungle ape-like creatures, the Woolies.

the blind archers whom he’d saved from Aku’s influence.

 

Olivia, the Rave DJ’s daughter.

and finally the daughters of Aku, 6 of which he’d slaughtered in the past, and the last, Ashi, who had faded at her wedding with him.

 

Those all filled his mind’s eye.

He sighed. The road onward through the darkness of the suffocating narrows would have to continue.


And then, without warning, the darkness gave way. 




He stood on a gentle rise, the ground beneath his geta soft with dew-kissed grass, a stark contrast to the scorched earth he’d left behind in his kingdom. The portal had opened on the outskirts of a sprawling city, just within its towering walls but far from the bustling heart he’d later come to know as Megalopolis E-273. Here, the landscape was serene, almost idyllic—a suburban expanse that stretched out before him like a painting of peace he couldn’t reconcile with Aku’s name.

Neat rows of modest homes lined winding streets, their tiled roofs glinting softly in the morning sun. Cypress trees, their petals drifting lazily in the breeze, framed the pathways, casting dappled shadows on the cobblestone below. Children’s laughter echoed from a nearby park, where they chased each other around a wooden swing set, their carefree joy a dagger to Jack’s heart. Mothers pushed strollers, chatting amiably, while an elderly alien-man tended to a small garden, his hands deftly pruning a bonsai tree with a quiet reverence. In the distance, a vendor’s cart rolled slowly along, the faint jingle of a bell accompanying his call of “Fresh mochi! Red bean and matcha!” The air was alive with the hum of progress; construction cranes loomed on the horizon, their rhythmic clanging a steady heartbeat of development, but here, in this suburban enclave, the noise felt distant, softened by the tranquility of the scene.

Jack’s gaze drifted upward, where the city’s walls rose like silent sentinels, their sleek, metallic surfaces reflecting the sunlight in a way that felt almost… hopeful. Beyond them, he could just make out the faint outlines of towering skyscrapers, their glass facades shimmering like beacons of modernity.

But here, on the outskirts, the world felt smaller, more intimate, a pocket of calm that seemed to mock the chaos he’d left behind.

“This…” Jack whispered, his voice barely audible, as he glanced back at the rift behind him. The jagged tear in reality pulsed once, twice, then shrank rapidly into nothing, its sole purpose—to send the Samurai back to the future—now complete. He was alone, stranded in a world that defied everything he knew.

“This isn’t possible…” His words trembled as he took a tentative step forward, his geta sinking slightly into the soft earth. He turned in a slow circle, taking in the full scope of his surroundings. A small stream babbled nearby, its waters catching the sunlight in a dance of golden ripples. A pair of sparrows flitted overhead, their chirps a melody that felt foreign to his ears after the screams of his burning kingdom. The air smelled clean, tinged with the sweetness of spring, and for a moment, Jack closed his eyes, letting the breeze wash over him. It was as if the world itself was trying to soothe him, to lull him into a false sense of security—but he knew better.

His hand tightened around the hilt of his katana, the familiar weight grounding him as his mind raced. This was Aku’s world—he had seen the demon’s wrath just hours ago, felt the bone-crushing force of his fist, watched as his kingdom crumbled into ash. And yet, here was a place of order, of peace, of… prosperity? The dissonance gnawed at him, a creeping horror that threatened to unravel his resolve. He had come to save a world in chains, to free its people from Aku’s tyranny—but what if there were no chains to break? What if the people here didn’t want to be saved?

Jack’s gaze settled on a family walking along the street below—an animal-humanoid father hoisting his giggling daughter onto his shoulders, the mother smiling warmly as she adjusted the girl’s sunhat. Their happiness was palpable, a stark contrast to the hollow-eyed despair he’d seen in the erased timeline. He took a step closer, then another, drawn toward the scene despite himself. The father noticed him, offering a friendly wave, and Jack hesitated, his hand still on his sword. He forced a nod in return, but the gesture felt hollow, his mind a storm of doubt.

As he moved closer to the suburban streets, the signs of Aku’s influence became impossible to ignore. A banner hung across the road, its crimson fabric emblazoned with Aku’s likeness—those six horns, those spectral blue flames—alongside words that made Jack’s blood run cold: Unity, Progress, Harmony, Prosperity . The banner fluttered gently in the breeze, a silent proclamation of Aku’s dominion, and Jack felt a chill settle in his bones. How could this be? How could Aku, the ultimate evil incarnate, be the architect of such a place?

A soft hum drew his attention to a sleek, levitating tram gliding along a track that wound through the suburbs, its passengers chatting amiably as they headed toward the city center. The technology was advanced, far beyond anything Jack had seen in his own time, and it only deepened his unease. He followed the tram’s path with his eyes, watching as it disappeared into the distance, where the skyscrapers loomed larger, their glass spires piercing the sky like needles. That was where the heart of Megalopolis E-273 lay, he realized—a bustling center of progress that he would soon have to face. But for now, he lingered in the suburbs, the quiet beauty of the scene both a balm and a torment to his fractured spirit.

“This… is not lawless devastation,” Jack murmured, his voice trembling as he sank to one knee, the grass cool against his skin.

“It’s… a functioning civilisation?” The words felt like a betrayal, a denial of everything he had fought for, everything he had lost. His kingdom lay in ruins, his father battered, his mother grieving—and yet here, in Aku’s world, life flourished. The contradiction was a blade to his heart, sharper than any sword.

A nearby citizen, a young woman in a bright yellow sundress, noticed his distress as she walked her dog along the path. The small creature yipped playfully, its tail wagging, and the woman paused, her expression warm and curious. “Are you alright, sir?” she called, her voice gentle. “You look… lost. First time visiting Megalopolis E-273?”

Jack’s head snapped up, his grip on his katana tightening instinctively. He forced himself to stand, brushing the grass from his gi as he met her gaze. Her kindness was genuine, her eyes free of the fear or suspicion he’d grown accustomed to in Aku’s dystopias. It unnerved him more than any threat could have.

“I…” Jack hesitated, his voice hoarse. “Yes. First time.”

The woman smiled, adjusting the leash as her dog tugged eagerly toward a nearby flowerbed. “Don’t worry—it takes some getting used to. Lord Aku’s reforms have really turned things around for everyone. We’ve never been happier.”

Jack’s blood ran cold, the words hitting him like a physical blow. “Reforms?” he choked out, his grip on his katana so tight his knuckles whitened. “You mean… you’re happy under Aku’s rule?”

The woman laughed, a light, carefree sound that grated against his raw nerves. “Of course! Why wouldn’t we be? Before Lord Aku, this world was chaos—wars, famine, despair. Now? Look around!” She gestured to the peaceful suburbs, the children playing, the families thriving.

“Lord Aku brought us together, united us. He’s our savior.”

Jack sank to his knees again, his mind reeling as the woman walked away, her dog trotting happily at her side. The weight of her words pressed down on him, heavier than any blow Aku had ever dealt.

“Reforms…” he whispered, the word bitter on his tongue.

“Saviour…” His vision blurred, not from the light this time, but from the tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. This couldn’t be real. It couldn’t.


He rose to his feet, unable to quell the rising lump in his throat, as he followed the path away from the suburbia towards the main city, the look on his face a vacant gaze as terraced houses slowly became tall buildings, grass-lined paths became immaculately constructed streets, with clear delineations between traffic and pedestrian crossings, and citizens of all walks of life briskly walked by each other, enjoying the luxury of modern amenities. Some were on their mobile phones, even as they crossed the busy streets, with rows and rows of hovercars honking angrily at these people. Some were dressed in fancy suits, carrying briefcases. Some were showing others how to use new technology, presumably having been introduced and developed under Aku’s rule. Some were just leaning against walls, presumably delinquents who had nothing better to do for the day.


Jack took all this in with a deep breath as he tried to stay in the shadows, avoiding drawing as much attention to himself as possible, taking paths where as little people walked as often as he could.

 




Skyscrapers towered above bustling streets filled with people going about their lives. Children played in parks, vendors called out to passersby, and construction crews worked tirelessly to build anew. The air smelled clean, alive with the hum of progress rather than the acrid stench of destruction, and the clanging and banging of construction echoed every so often in the background, a mark of the rapid development happening in the area.

“This is just… bewildering…” He wandered aimlessly, his senses overwhelmed by the stark contrast to the hellish dystopia he’d braced himself for. Everywhere he looked, there were signs of prosperity—families reunited, communities thriving, industries booming. And strangest of all, banners bearing Aku’s likeness hung proudly throughout the city, accompanied by words like Unity, Progress, Harmony and Prosperity .

“This is unbelievable...” Jack murmured, his mind struggling to reconcile what he saw with everything he knew.

“What has... Aku done to this world...”

A nearby citizen, dressed in a lab coat, leaning on his left side due to the weight of carrying a seemingly heavy suitcase, noticed his confusion and approached him with a warm smile. “First time visiting Megalopolis E-273?

Don’t worry—it takes some getting used to. Lord Aku’s reforms have really turned things around for everyone.”

Jack’s blood ran cold.

“Reforms?” he choked out, his grip tightening on his katana. “You’re… happy under Aku’s rule?”

The man laughed, clearly misunderstanding Jack’s tone.

“Of course! Why wouldn’t we be? Before Lord Aku, this world was chaos. Now? Look around! We’ve got jobs, food, safety… everything we ever needed.”

As the man walked away, Jack sank to his knees, his mind reeling.

This couldn’t be real. It couldn’t.

Yet the evidence was undeniable. Somehow, Aku had transformed himself—or perhaps the world’s perception of him—into something entirely unrecognisable.

The jaded, exhausted Samurai spent hours wandering the city, searching for any sign of the tyranny he’d fought against for so long. But everywhere he went, he found only peace and order. Citizens spoke fondly of Aku’s leadership, crediting him with ending wars, uniting nations, and ushering in an era of unprecedented prosperity.

“It’s not possible…” Jack muttered, leaning against a lamppost as exhaustion threatened to overwhelm him.

“Aku is THE ultimate evil incarnate. He thrives on suffering, on chaos. How could he… how could anyone believe otherwise?”

His thoughts spiraled into a vortex of doubt and horror. Had Aku somehow rewritten history to erase his atrocities? Or worse—had he truly changed, becoming something Jack couldn’t comprehend? Either possibility was terrifying. “This isn’t the world I came to save,” Jack whispered to himself, his voice trembling, his faith in his own fortitude wavering once again.. “But it’s still wrong. Still false.”




Later that evening, Jack found himself in a quieter part of the city, drawn to the sound of raucous laughter coming from a nearby barbershop. Glancing inside for a fleeting moment,, he spotted a familiar figure sitting at the counter—a large, older man with wild hair, a bombastically coloured vest and baggy cargo pants, and a booming voice. The man was tall, dark and fairly good looking, were it not for his outrageously bright outfit, and beside him was a young woman, whom Jack correctly presumed, was his daughter, or a relative of his.

The man sauntered out of the barbershop, satisfied with the hairstyle he’d received, with the younger woman in tow behind him, her face brimming with disgust.

“Dad, your old hair was better.”

“What you mean, girl! This hairstyle makes me look fly—OOF!”

Jack almost gets swept off his feet by the impact with the man, stumbling backwards into a puddle of water, the filthy fluid almost soaking his geta.


The man exclaims “Oh, damn! Sorry yo. Ain’t see you there, my G.”

The woman rushes over to help, the handcuffs on her uniform jangling haphazardly with the erratic motion. “Hey, hey, are you okay?”

As Jack craned his neck up to see who it was that had obstructed his path, he saw the face of who had bumped into him, and his eyes widened in awe, elation and bewilderment.

“Da Samurai!” Jack exclaimed, disbelief coloring his tone.

The man turned, squinting at Jack for a moment before breaking into a wide grin. “Hey, hey, hey! Name’s LaMarr. I ain’t know who Da Samoorai is.”

The tall man pauses, then continues, his tone cheery and upbeat.“You look familiar, man! Like… like someone I met way back. But nah, can’t quite place ya.” Before Jack could respond, Da Samurai gestured proudly to a young woman standing beside him. She wore a sleek uniform adorned with badges of honor, her posture radiating confidence. “This here’s my girl, Aisha!” Da Samurai declared, slapping her on the back.

“She’s about to become police chief of this whole district! Ain’t that somethin’?” Aisha rolled her eyes good-naturedly, though there was a spark of pride in her gaze.

“Dad, stop embarrassing me.” The woman, a spitting image of her father, re-anchored her handcuffs to the hem of her long dark pants, as she ran her amber eyes up and down the Samurai’s form.


Jack stared at them, his mind racing.

Da Samurai—once a victim of Aku’s oppression, once the arrogant bumbling fool with a potbelly who invented pathetic excuses for sword-slashing techniques… now living happily under the demon’s rule? And his daughter, rising through the ranks of a system Jack KNEW for a fact was corrupt? It made no sense.

The samurai’s mind twisted, as he almost keeled over, dropping to his knees on the concrete pavement.

“What.." was all Jack could manage, his existential crisis deepening with every passing second.

Da Samurai smoothed a hand through his short, coarse hair, styled to a flat top, and sauntered over briskly to Jack.

“Hey man, what’s yo name? Do you even come from around here at all? Goddamn, it’s like you came out of one of those old ass Japanese movies from the 1980s!”

Jack swallowed all the doubts and thoughts he had in that moment. Sighing, he grasped the hilt of his sword, and taking a breather in the admittedly, fresh and crisp air of the city, he simply responded with the introduction that had somehow beckoned for him to speak them out when meeting new people.

“They call me…”

The prince of the kingdom long since lost to the flow of time smiles softly, sheathing his sword, his geta clicking softly over the smooth concrete pavements of the city, as Da Samurai and his daughter Aisha, look at him, and then at themselves in slight confusion.

“Samurai Jack.”


“Samurai Jack?” Da Samurai scratches his head. “Ain’t ever heard that name before. Hey? Who called you that? Can I get yo’ auto-”

“Dad,” Aisha says, her brows furrowing. “Stop it.”


Da Samurai stops, his usually bright and cheery face suddenly dropping at the sight before him, taking note of the darkening  contemptuous condescension that had swept his daughter’s face.

“Why though? The guy seemed nice…? Ain’t no way the brotha was a bother?”

Aisha crosses her arms over her chest as she takes a deep breath, and lets out a long exhale through her nostrils.

“That… man. I can sense it.”

“He’ll give.. Lord Aku trouble.”





Night fell, and Jack retreated to a secluded alleyway, slumping against a cold brick wall. His sword lay across his lap, its blade gleaming faintly in the dim light.
The cacophony of the city buzzed around him, but he felt utterly alone.

“Why is Aku respected here?” he muttered, his voice raw with frustration. “Why are people… happy? What happened to history?” A creeping horror settled in his chest.

This wasn’t the world he’d expected to save. In fact, it might be far worse—a deception so profound that even those who lived in it couldn’t see the truth.

“What am I supposed to do now?” Jack whispered, closing his eyes as tears pricked at the corners. For the first time in years, he felt truly lost.





The comm unit screeched, the frantic voice on the other end a grating whine, pleading with ‘Countess Ami, Countess Ami!’ 

She slumped in a scavenged office chair, its worn upholstery creaking with her every movement, rolling her eyes, the motion languid and dismissive. The dim, sickly moonlight, filtering through the grime-streaked windows of the abandoned skyscraper, illuminated her pink irises, now narrowed with contempt.The skeletal structure stood like a decaying sentinel against the encroaching jungle, its dense, humid air seeping into the office’s stale atmosphere. The pseudo-flattery, a desperate attempt at deference, elicited nothing but a snort of derision from her.


"Ugh," she groaned, her voice dripping with irritation. "Ey, bastard, seriously? Drop the formalities already. You know I hate being called that."



“Yeah. I’m already at E-273, or the outskirts of this blasted place… what do the people call it here.. Kokuyo… no Seiiki. Or the other name, The Lord’s Abode. Or some random shit like that.”



She nodded, her drowsy eyes lazily dropping as she fought the urge to yawn in front of her shadow operative.

“I have other things to do here… gotta settle a score with some fuckers here… I mean unless you have anything to tell me.. You should probably end this call now… wait. Say that again?”

“What did you say? That there was a dude in an old timey outfit in the recently developed suburbs?”

Her initial annoyance melted into something sharper—curiosity—as the caller relayed news so absurd it bordered on comical. Her fingers twitched instinctively toward her smartphone, scrolling for any scrap of evidence to confirm what she’d just heard. A faint smirk tugged at the corners of her lips as realization dawned.

 

"Huh. Ohohoho… He really did it." She leaned back in her creaky office chair, its squeaks echoing off the cold, tiled floors of the abandoned building. Legs stretched languidly across the cracked surface, her posture exuded an unsettling blend of boredom and anticipation.

"He actually went back in time… just to punish someone who doesn’t even matter anymore."

 

The woman ran a hand through her choppy, chin-length bob, pushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Her expression shifted—devilish now, her grin widening into something predatory. It wasn’t often that Lord Aku surprised her, but this? This was unexpected.

 

"This…" she drawled, feigning seriousness for the sake of the person still rambling on the phone, "...is going to get interesting."

 

"Mhm, yes," she continued, slipping one hand into the pocket of her muted pink jacket. "This development certainly caught us off guard. We had no idea THIS was the secret project our dear overlord had been working on." Her tone was light, almost mocking, as if the gravity of the situation amused her. "Impulsive moves aren’t exactly his style.. but hey—as long as the media stays out of it, he should be fine."

 

She paused briefly, nodding absently before delivering her final instructions. "Alright, send me the coordinates. I’ll have my subordinates secure the timeline in that region for Lord Aku. Thanks. No problem. Goodbye."

 

The call ended with a soft click, leaving only the sound of drizzling rain pattering against the grime-streaked windows. Taking a deep breath, she stared out at the night sky, her reflection ghostlike in the glass. Behind her, shadows danced grotesquely across the walls, cast by the flickering glow of a distant streetlamp. The stars above were faint, their light swallowed whole by the oppressive darkness.

 

Her thoughts drifted—to memories not her own, yet undeniably hers. Fragments of a life erased, stitched together by the cruel hands of fate.

 

Raised in a cult under her mother’s iron rule, branded with burning-hot magic imbued with Aku’s essence alongside her six sisters. Trained ruthlessly in the art of combat—sai, kusarigama, naginata, kanabo—all weapons forged to serve one purpose: kill the Samurai.

 

Then came freedom—or what passed for it. Released into the unforgiving wilderness, tasked with hunting down the very man they’d been trained to destroy. Ambushes in frozen forests, battles fought without honor or mercy. And then… the moment that defined her first death.

 

Her throat, slit by the bearded samurai, his blade cutting clean through flesh and bone. Her eerie white mask cracking under the strain as her vision faded to black her body drained of it’s life force as she slid down the cracked stone walls of the fortress.. Blood pooling around her, warm and sticky, mingling with the cold stone beneath her.

 

And yet here she was again, reborn. Stronger. Sharper. More determined than ever.

 

Her lips curled into a wicked grin, her brows furrowing downward as her pink eyes gleamed with the weight of those memories. They weren’t burdens—they were fuel.

 

"Twice bitten, thrice shy," she murmured softly, brushing away a trickle of blood from the corner of her mouth. "I lost once to him then. I lost once to the rest of those fools here—my sisters."

 

Her voice hardened, each word laced with venom. "I won’t lose this time."

 

With that, she threw her head back and laughed—a raucous, guttural sound that reverberated through the empty halls of the derelict building. Shadows quivered in response, as though recoiling from the sheer force of her mirth. She shoved her phone carelessly into her pocket, rising to her feet with feline grace.

 

"It’s time to welcome back the Samurai," she purred, her voice low and deliberate. She stepped closer to the window, gazing out at the rain-slicked streets below. Somewhere out there, he was coming. The fool who dared to change fate to his very whim by killing the demon in the past.

 

"And in time…" she added, her gaze narrowing as another trickle of blood slid down her chin.

"...he’ll learn that his so-called heroism was all for naught.”

Chapter 9: CIX

Chapter Text

 

Jack awoke in the cold alleyways of the metropolis, his body stiff from hours spent lying on a soaked, moldy cardboard box. A chill ran down his spine as he sat up, rubbing his bloodshot eyes beneath the dim glow of flickering streetlights. His katana rested heavily at his side, its hilt worn smooth from years of battle.

“This… is impossible,” he muttered, his voice barely audible over the distant hum of the city. “How could Aku have changed so drastically?”

As his vision cleared, Jack scanned the sky, still waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. The alleyways stretched endlessly before him, their shadows deepening with each passing moment. Rats scurried into deeper recesses of the passageways, their tiny claws clicking against damp stone.

Questions swirled about in his mind as he inspected the hilt of his sword, rubbing his fingers along its ornate handle almost as if seeking comfort from the inanimate blade.

“Why did the sword… not cut down Aku at that time?” He clenched his fists, his knuckles whitening under the faint light filtering through cracks in the walls. “I swung at Aku once… it showed that I hit him.”

“He took out an endless stream of my kingdom’s troops… they had weapons, and he was seemingly in a diminished form. Yet, they fell one by one to his sheer combat prowess, he never shapeshifted, nor ran in a cowardly fashion… It seemed as if he just punched… and they all fell unconscious, or even died.”

The memory of the jagged rift—shaped like a vertical ellipse—loomed large in his mind. Through it, the horrors of the universe had wreaked havoc on his land, leaving nothing but devastation in their wake.

“What happened?” Jack’s gaze was fixated on a certain part of the alleyways, where rats, cockroaches, and other pests scurried into deeper shadowy parts of the passageways before him, a thousand-yard stare etched onto his firm features.

“I follow him here… and things are… great? Prosperous…?”

Every victory seemed hollow now, overshadowed by the realisation that this timeline might be irredeemable.


Things were somehow oddly prosperous in this megalopolis. The hum of a technologically advanced train, seemingly levitating off the tracks via some magic that Jack could only dream of understanding, cut through the darkness of the night. Clouds obscured the moon and stars, leaving only the artificial lights of the city to pierce the gloom.


“This…” Jack mumbled, rubbing the area above his right eyebrow, feeling bile pool in his throat. “I’ve got to…”

He stumbled to his feet once again, leaning against a grimy trashcan, using the growing unease inside him to fuel his resolve to find out the truth of this world.

“...solve the Aku problem… once again.”


“ARGH!”

A robotic voice startled him, monotonously uttering, “Please enter the weight of the trash you wish to dispose.”


Jack looked down at the trashcan, jerking his hand back in astonishment. On the front of the trashcan was a small display, its white screen glowing faintly in the shroud of the night, with options to add or subtract numbers on its user interface.


“I had no inkling of an idea that the trashcans here were this advanced,” he muttered, half-amused yet deeply unsettled.

“KKHK!”
“WHAT- AHK!”

Jack’s eyes widened at the sound of gagging coming from deeper within the inky blackness of the alleyways, along with a cacophony of voices screaming bloody murder at each other.

He furrowed his brows.


He had to go help and see what was going on.

The hum of another train slicing through the darkness reminded him of how far removed this world felt from the dystopia he remembered.

This place wasn’t supposed to exist. Not like this.

And yet, here it was—a paradox of prosperity built atop corruption.

Jack’s internal monologue continued: What happened? How could Aku have rewritten history so thoroughly?

The scene before him felt surreal, almost dreamlike. Was this reality—or some twisted reflection of it?


“This…” Jack murmured, his voice trembling slightly. “I’ve got to figure this out.”


Reality had been upturned, after all.







Jack moved with deliberate caution, ensuring the clicks of his geta were as muted as possible against the damp concrete. His head swiveled slowly, scanning every shadow for threats as he approached the source of the commotion. One hand rested firmly on the hilt of his katana, ready to draw at a moment’s notice. The alleyway stretched endlessly before him, its darkness broken only by faint glimmers of light filtering through cracks in the surrounding buildings.

As he rounded the corner, Jack froze, his eyes widening in shock at the scene unfolding before him.

Five bodies—alien-like, human, and anthropomorphic animal-like humanoids—lay sprawled across the ground, lifeless. Pools of blood seeped into the grime-covered pavement, their metallic tang mingling with the acrid stench of rotting garbage. Jack nearly gagged but forced himself to stay composed. His gaze shifted to the center of the carnage, where a woman knelt atop another combatant, her posture radiating dominance.

Clad in a sleek black tank top, a ruffled pink jacket, and neatly cropped black pants that ended just above her ankles, she exuded an air of calculated ferocity. Her short bob haircut was impeccably styled, almost incongruous with the brutality surrounding her. A sadistic grin twisted her features, her pink irises glowing like embers in the dim light.”

“Can’t believe I had to come all the way to this undeveloped, shitty backwater part of the city to get my credits back,” she muttered, her voice laced with disdain.

Before Jack could react or intervene, the gangster beneath her; a burly, tiger-striped feline humanoid, struggled weakly, craning his neck upward. His growls dripped with defiance, though his trembling limbs betrayed his fear.

“We were just… collecting the other things to sell to Lord Aku’s business..! You have to underst-!”

“I don’t care. Shut your trap.”

Without hesitation, the woman shoved something into the felid’s mouth—a sticky wad of what looked like hardened candy. The force of the impact shattered several of his fangs, drawing fresh blood. Jack watched from the shadows, torn between stepping forward to stop the violence and recoiling from the sheer savagery of it all.

The tiger-man clawed desperately at his throat, his muffled screams silenced by the obstruction in his mouth. He stared skyward, as if pleading with the heavens for salvation, but no answer came. Only the cold indifference of the night clouds loomed above.

“You’ll be fine… after like seven days,” the woman sneered, cupping his chin mockingly. Her fingers brushed against the matted fur of his cheek, her touch deceptively gentle.

“I get that you too, are stuck between a rock and a hard place, but…”

In a blur of motion, she stood and drove the heel of her ballerina flat deep into the tiger-man’s eye. His body convulsed feebly, his movements growing weaker with each passing second. She leaned down briefly, patting the slick fur of his head as though comforting a child, before delivering another merciless blow to his skull. An audible crack echoed through the alleyway, causing Jack to flinch visibly.

“....my payment's due, you fucking bastard.”


“Chew this yeot properly, okay?” she cackled, her tone dripping with mockery. “It was fucking expensive—five credits a piece.”

“Fuck me over, will you? Karma’s a bitch.”

Her gaze shifted abruptly, locking onto Jack’s position behind the wall. For a fleeting moment, their eyes met. Jack felt a chill run down his spine, but there was no time to retreat. She strode toward him with unnatural speed, leaving the unconscious, half-dead bodies of her victims strewn across the alley.


As she drew closer, Jack’s breath hitched. She bore an uncanny resemblance to Ashi— facially, identical, a similar enough hairstyle, the same confident stride—but there was something distinctly different about her. Something colder. More calculating.

Jack tried to steady himself, gripping the hilt of his sword tightly. But before he could fully process the situation, the words tumbled out of his mouth unbidden.

“As… Ashi???”

The woman stopped mid-step, tilting her head slightly. A smirk spread across her face as she sauntered closer, her hands tucked casually into the pockets of her pants.

“Ashi, huh…” she scoffed, rolling her eyes. “That’s fucked up you’d compare me to that attention whore.”

She closed the distance between them fearlessly, craning her neck upward to meet Jack’s towering frame. As she stepped into the dim light, Jack’s jaw dropped further. Her appearance was identical to the first daughter of Aku he’d killed in the erased timeline—the assassin whose mask had cracked as her life bled away.

In that moment, a memory flashed vividly in his mind:

A broken temple. Seven daughters of Aku ambushing him. Convinced they were machines, he swung his sword without hesitation—and slit her throat. The crack of her mask, the final flutter of her eyes, the gurgling sound as blood spilled onto the floor. It had been the first time EVER, even in his fifty years in that godforsaken future, that he’d taken a human life.

Now, he figured, here she stood. In the flesh. Alive and well.

Jack staggered backward, clutching his head as waves of confusion and dread crashed over him. His teeth ground together, his eyes squeezed shut as he fought to make sense of the impossible.

“What’s the problem, big guy?” she said, her voice teasing yet edged with menace. She extended her hand toward him, offering a gesture of false camaraderie. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Jack struggled to regain his composure, his voice trembling as he finally managed to speak.

“Who… are you? Why do you look so much like… Ashi?”

She exhaled sharply, a guttural sound escaping her lips. “Haaa… damn. Fuck, of course. We never introduced ourselves properly in that last timeline… hmmm?”


“The last timeline….???????”

The echoes of her words snaked through his ears and into the gradually disintegrating space of his mind, sending chills coursing through Jack’s body, threatening to shatter his bones from within if he didn’t withstand it. Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead, soaking into the fabric of his gi.
How did she remember? Did she recall the brutal way he’d slaughtered her and five of her sisters?

Her grin widened, revealing rows of gleaming teeth. There was another, more sadistic glint in her pink irises as she leaned in slightly, relishing his discomfort.

“Name’s Ami, heh. Nice to meet you… Samurai Jack.”

Chapter Text

Jack stood frozen in the dim alleyway, his gaze locked on the woman who had introduced herself as Ami. Her facial and bodily features were identical to Ashi’s—down to her nose, the shape of her eyes, the shade of her lips, the deep black of her fringeless bob of hair, and confident posture—but there was something unmistakably different about her.

Something... perhaps more Janus-faced, more dishonest, about her. 

His mouth hung slightly agape as she continued grinning, her outstretched hand hovering expectantly between them.

 

Her earlier words echoed relentlessly in his mind, reverberating like a haunting refrain that threatened to shatter his composure. 

 

There was no possible way she could have known my name... she didn't remember. Nobody should remember. 

And..  what did she mean by "the last timeline?”

 

His voice trembled as he struggled to articulate his thoughts. “What… do you mean by what you said?”

 

Ami’s grin faltered briefly before she let out an exaggerated exhale, swishing a stray lock of her bob back behind her ear. She wiped sweat from her forehead with the edge of her palm, her pink irises gleaming under the faint glow of distant streetlights. 

 

“Be specific,” she shot back, her tone sharp but laced with mockery. “What part of what I said offended you so deeply?” 

 

Her unamused gaze met Jack’s wavering dark eyes, pinning him in place. He pressed his fingers against the bridge of his nose, leaning heavily against the rough brick wall of the alleyway. The wind picked up speed, swirling through the narrow passageway and carrying with it the damp stench of decay. Above, clouds thickened ominously, blotting out any trace of moonlight or stars.

 

“You… you…” Jack began, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. Words failed him, tangled in the storm raging within his mind.

 

“You, you, you,” Ami mimicked, her voice rising in pitch with each repetition. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her cropped pants, her petite frame radiating belligerence despite her casual stance. “Spit it out already—what do you want to say?”

 

The venerable samurai groaned softly, steadying himself as he rose to his feet. He adjusted his *geta*, ensuring they were secure, and checked that his katana remained firmly fastened at his side. Finally, he managed a meek reply.

 

“Do you… remember everything…?”

 

Ami rolled her pink irises dramatically, her lips curling into a sardonic smirk. 

 

“Remember what?” she quipped, shrugging nonchalantly. “If you’re not specific, how am I supposed to know what you’re talking about?”

 

She chuckled lightly, the sound dripping with condescension, as Jack wrestled with his thoughts. Each attempt to speak felt like pulling teeth, the weight of his guilt pressing down on him.

 

“The… erased timeline…” he finally forced out, his voice barely above a whisper. “…when I…”

 

He trailed off abruptly, nearly stumbling backward onto the soggy concrete beneath his feet. How could he bring himself to finish the sentence? To admit aloud that he had killed her—that he had slit her throat in cold blood during their first encounter?

 

Ami let out a low grunt, somewhere between frustration and exasperation. 

 

“Fucking hell,” she muttered, crossing her arms over her chest. “I asked for a handshake, and instead, I get this melodrama.”

 

Her expression softened ever so slightly as she leaned in closer, craning her neck upward to meet Jack’s increasingly uneasy gaze. Her tone shifted, becoming almost playful yet undeniably malicious.

 

“You know…” she drawled, her voice slithering into Jack’s ears like venom. “…I didn’t expect our reunion to be quite like this… Samurai.”

 

Jack jerked back instinctively, his long hair clinging to his face as he fought to compose himself. Ami chuckled again, her mood shifting once more to something lighter, almost carefree. She extended her hand toward him once more, absently adjusting the strap of her tank top and brushing imaginary dust off her muted pink jacket.

 

“So,” she said breezily, “do you want me to show you around Megalopolis E-273?”

 

Jack hesitated, biting the corner of his lip as conflicting thoughts churned within him. If he refused, would she attack him? Would he have to fight her again? But if he accepted… what would she demand in return? This woman bore no resemblance to the morally upright person he’d hoped she might become. Betrayal seemed inevitable.

 

He shook his head vigorously, trying to banish the doubts clouding his judgment. 

 

*I have to give her a chance,* he reminded himself silently.

Ami waited patiently—or perhaps impatiently—her hands still tucked into the jackets of her pockets.

 

“Come on,” she muttered, tapping her foot mockingly. “I don’t have all day—or rather, all night—to wait for one of your slow-ass responses.”


Jack hesitated for a moment... not sure what to think. 

How had it come to this? 

How had Aku resisted his sword not once, but twice? 

How had he come back to a world where things were absolutely... okay under his rule?

And... was the snarky, hotheaded, pink-eyed woman standing in front of him in this cold, dingy alleyway... the one holding all the answers? 

Yet, the words that came out of his quivering lips were words that he'd never thought he'd say to someone who was so clearly not in the best of mood, nor wielded the most honourable of intentions.


“I’ll go with you,” Jack replied, his voice resigned but firm.

 

Ami’s pink eyes lit up instantly, a wide, ear-to-ear grin spreading across her face. 

 

“Yes… this is good,” she purred, her satisfaction palpable. “Come then. Follow.”

 

With that, the two figures departed from the labyrinthine alleyways, stepping back into the polished streets of the megalopolis. The transition was stark—the dank shadows of the alleys giving way to the sterile brightness of well-laid tiles and gleaming skyscrapers. They walked side by side, their footsteps echoing faintly against the smooth pavement.




“What… is this place?” Jack murmured, his unease growing as he clutched the hilt of his katana tightly. Another hand gripped the fabric of his gi near his thigh, grounding him amidst the surreal surroundings.

 

Ami grinned, her posture relaxed and carefree, as though she held all the cards. 

 

“This place…” she began, her tone deliberately vague, “…is one of my little… outposts.”


The monolithic warehouse squatted in the heart of the metropolis, a concrete leviathan amidst a sea of glittering towers. Above, a bruised, charcoal sky hung heavy, the clouds a restless, swirling mass that muted the city's vibrant glow. Streetlights, like amber eyes, cast long, distorted shadows that stretched and danced across the cracked asphalt surrounding the building. The warehouse itself was a study in stark contrast: its hulking, windowless walls, stained with the grime of decades, exuded an air of silent, industrial might.

The metallic clang of a distant levitating train echoed through the humid night air, momentarily slicing through the low hum of the city. A chain-link fence, rusted and bent, encircled the perimeter, a meager barrier against the sprawling urban sprawl. The air hung thick with the scent of damp concrete and ozone, a strange, metallic tang that mingled with the faint, sweet exhaust of distant traffic.

A single, flickering neon sign, a skeletal hand pointing toward a loading bay, cast an eerie, red glow across the rain-slicked concrete, a lonely beacon in the vast, indifferent cityscape.

Jack’s eyes widened, his feet clammy and unsteady in his geta. His gaze hardens, gritting his teeth behind his shut lips, his brows furrowing. A rapid sense of danger had quickly overtaken his brain, setting it up for the duty to fight that he had so been accustomed to throughout all his journeys in the future and the past.

Ami looks back, her eyes narrowing at his gaze as she punches in a code near the towering, rusted gates of the warehouse with cool efficiency.

“I know you want to kill me, but out of the goodness of my heart…”

A devilish grin spreads across her face once again as Jack lets out a pained grunt. This woman… Ashi’s septuplet’s reincarnation in this timeline… what was she scheming? Was she going to kill him?

“...I’m going to help you.”

Her words dripped with sarcasm, leaving him unsure whether she genuinely believed herself capable of mercy—or if it was all part of some elaborate game. As they stepped inside the warehouse, the chill of the winds shook the rusted fences, adding to the ominous stillness that enveloped them .



Jack stops, raising his hand to his face. He clears his throat to prepare himself to navigate a de-escalation of the situation, and utters, in a flat, semi-commanding tone, “What.. do you plan to do? I don’t sense… any goodness or righteousness in the way you present yourself. Your intentions are as murky as the waters after a calamitous tsunami, yet you still haven’t killed or attacked me.”

“So, who…”

Jack and Ami stand face to face once again, an ominous stillness blanketing the atmosphere around them as their eyes meet, reflecting a chilling blend of mutual consternation, suspicion, and derision.

“...are you really?” Jack finishes his question, as Ami lowers her gaze for a moment.

In the blink of an eye, she straightens her posture, meeting his own, his facial features as cold as steel once again, as a look of disinterested defiance quickly etched itself onto her petite features.
Ami sighs, exasperated, her mood to get in a conflict having been extinguished earlier from the fight in the alleyways.


“Man. You really want to know the truth of this world so fast huh…” She groans, rubbing circles on her brow ridges.

“Just get inside the warehouse first.”

Ami and Jack trudged through the entrance of the warehouse, the chill of the winds gently shaking the rusted chain-link fences of the compound. Walking past the overgrown underbrush of the compound’s surroundings, making sure to follow the haphazardly marked path to the entrance of the dilapidated building, Ami casually drew her phone out of her jacket’s pocket, powers on the screen, swipes away some notification and then puts it back in her pocket.

“I understand, samurai. You’re curious right now.” Ami, unperturbed by the earlier staredown between her and the prince of the past’s fallen imperial kingdom, lazily punches in another code in the device next to the walls of the warehouse’s main entrance. 

"But you'll have to be patient, like we all are." 

Jack’s eyes widen as he takes in the sight before him, the rusted metal doors of the entrance sluggardly opening with the shrill creak of their hinges in the night, as he takes in the sight before him.

“It’s just… dark.” He squints, trying to figure out what’s inside the lofty, airy space.

“Heh…” Ami exhales sarcastically as she switches on a single light hanging from the arched, corroded roof of the run-down building, as Jack’s eyes widen once again.

The heavy steel doors groaned open, revealing a cavernous interior swallowed by a shroud of lofty darkness. Dust motes, disturbed by the intrusion, danced in the narrow beams of moonlight that pierced through cracks in the corrugated roof, illuminating a scene of forgotten industry. The air hung thick and stale, a metallic tang mingling with the musty scent of aged oil and forgotten machinery.

The vast space was a labyrinth of shadows, where towering racks stretched into the gloom, their contents obscured by layers of dust and time. Here and there, the glint of metal caught the moonlight: a discarded wrench, its jaws rusted open; a tangle of copper wires, coiled like sleeping serpents; a half-disassembled engine, its chrome components dulled and tarnished.

A scattering of enigmatic gadgets littered the concrete floor: a complex array of dials and gauges, their purpose long forgotten; a series of blinking LED panels, their rhythmic pulses casting an eerie glow across the surrounding debris; a skeletal frame of some unknown device, its intricate gears and levers frozen in a silent, mechanical tableau.

The silence was profound, broken only by the occasional drip of water from a leaky pipe echoing through the vast space, a lonely counterpoint to the city's distant hum. The concrete floor, cracked and uneven, bore the scars of heavy machinery, while the walls, streaked with grime and peeling paint, hinted at a past filled with bustling activity, now lost to the shadows. A single, bare bulb, suspended from a frayed wire, swung gently in the unseen currents of air, casting long, distorted shadows that danced and shifted, transforming the forgotten machinery into grotesque, looming figures.

As Jack took in the sight of the space before him, rooted to the spot in awe and disbelief, his heart racing with uncertainty and danger, Ami’s eyes light up as she briskly saunters over to a wooden desk, smack dab in the centre of the drafty space.


“Ah yes! My suppliers have gotten this done for me. Should pay them a fuck ton of credits for this... Samurai, look at this machine…”

She beckoned for him to walk past the entrance of the warehouse, its towering, windowless walls stained with grime. Inside, a solitary neon sign glowed ominously, casting an eerie red hue over the scene. The machine before them—a boxy contraption with a green user interface screen and various ports—seemed both mundane and menacin Jack squinted, trying to make sense of the device.

"This is amazing...” Ami grinned, casually drawing her phone from her pocket. "Should be thanking them... now where's their bank account's number? Gah, gotta pay them 10% commission for this... I'm so kind aren't I." 


With a peal of self-indulgent laughter, she swiped away more notifications on her phone in a leisurely manner, leaning against the desk that housed the contraption, Jack’s eyes widened at the sight of the machine. It wasn’t grandiose or intimidating—it was functional, almost utilitarian. A translucent rectangular tube on one side suggested input points, while another slit on the opposite end hinted at output mechanisms.

He rubbed his temples, racking his brains for his knowledge of the future’s technology. Having spent 2 years in the past already, a period of relative peace before Aku had ravaged his kingdom,  his knowledge of technology, already worn down by the sands of time, definitely helped him little in identifying what this machine was.

“What is this?” Jack asked, his voice tinged with curiosity and apprehension.

“It’ll help you for sure,” Ami replied, placing a blank card-like object into the machine’s entrance point. Her grin widened as she activated the device, its lights flickering to life.

The warehouse echoed with the mechanical whirring of the machine, its cold, metallic hum filling the space. Jack rubbed his temples, struggling to reconcile what he saw with what he knew. Memories of the erased timeline flooded back—the weight of his actions pressing down on him.

“You’re right,” he muttered, his grip tightening on his katana. “This isn’t the world I expected to save.”

Ami’s laughter rang out, sharp and mocking. “Oh, but isn’t it fascinating? How different things are here.”

Chapter 11: CXI

Chapter Text

The air inside the dilapidated warehouse was thick with dust, the faint hum of old machinery, worn down gadgets and scrapped parts filling the silence as Ami busied herself taking photos of Samurai Jack. Her pink irises gleamed mischievously under the dim light cast by a single flickering bulb overhead.

 

“Hold still,” she teased, circling him like a predator sizing up its prey. “You look ridiculous when you fidget.”

 

Jack clenched his jaw but complied, standing stiffly as she snapped picture after picture. He could sense her manipulative nature—the way her words dripped with mockery—but for now, he bit back his frustration. Fake IDs had been essential tools during his time in the erased timeline, and if these would help him navigate this strange new world, so be it.

“Stick your tongue out.”

“Put your hands on your hips.”


“Stand on one foot.”

Jack followed all the instructions as Ami continued to snap away with glee, trying to suppress her mischievous giggles as he stood in front of the cold walls of the warehouse’s back end, illuminated by a series of brightly lit LED lamps fastened to various structures inside the dilapidated warehouse.

He grimaced, his expression unamused.

“You just want to make me look silly, isn’t it?”


Ami threw her head back, tears of laughter streaming down her face as she uploaded the photos to some processing application.

Jack did a palms-up gesture, squinting his eyes, the disillusionment on his face palpable.

“Yeah.” Was the response from Ami, still chuckling.

Jack heaved a sigh from his large chest, his eyes, foggy with exhaustion, doing a barrel roll inside their sockets.


“Of course. I was fucking with you.”

 

Ami smirked, still occasionally letting out a strained guffaw or two, uploading the photos to the machine’s interface. The contraption whirred softly as blank cards slid through its mechanisms, emerging moments later printed with various aliases. She handed them to Jack with an exaggerated flourish, leaning closer until their faces were mere inches apart.

 

“Pick one,” she said, her voice low and playful. “In fact, take all of them…” Her lips curled into a relaxed grin, her pink eyes glinting ominously.

“…You’ll need them.”

 

Before Jack could respond, a loud pounding echoed from outside the locked warehouse doors. Voices shouted angrily, demanding entry.


“Who’s there?” Jack hissed, trying to keep his voice as quiet as possible. The echoes of the loud bangs rippled through the rickety warehouse’s frame, threatening to collapse the run-down building if Ami didn’t do something about it,

Ami gave something akin to a low grunt, the sound oozing with irritation and detachment.

“Ah… fucking hell. It’s probably her again.” 





 



Ami rolled her eyes, casually strolling toward the entrance, with Jack following closely behind her, swiveling his neck for threats in the night.. With a shrug, she unlocked the door, only to find herself staring down the barrel of a laser pistol pointed directly at her face.

On the other side stood Aisha, Da Samurai’s daughter and newly promoted police chief of Megalopolis E-273. Behind her, a ragtag group of eight or nine officers loomed menacingly.

 

“Freeze!” Aisha barked, her amber eyes blazing with determination. “We’ve received reports of suspicious activity around here—gang members supplying stolen experimental equipment and storing it here.” Her gaze shifted between Ami and Jack before narrowing sharply. “Ah?”

 

Ami didn’t flinch.

She let out a pompous chuckle and, with reflexes faster than a house cat’s, jammed her thumb against the exit of the laser pistol, forcing Aisha’s aim to falter. In an instant, Jack sprang into action, drawing his katana and stepping protectively in front of Ami, his geta digging into the coarse gravel of the compound’s beaten down path. He locked his incensed-ridden glare at Aisha, instantly recognising her as the woman who had been seen with Da Samoorai’s reincarnation, who was now apparently named LaMarr in this timeline.


“Leave her alone,” he growled, his tone leaving no room for argument.

 

Aisha recoiled slightly, her small army of officers hesitating as they took in the combined presence of the samurai and the enigmatic woman beside him. The tension in the room crackled like static electricity.

 

“It’s you again,” Aisha spat, her voice tinged with both malice and surprise as her eyes locked gaze with the perfidious woman standing behind the Samurai's tall and lean, yet imposing and formidable frame.

 

Jack froze, knuckles on the hilt of his katana red with trepidation, his eyes widening in disbelief as the words Aisha said bounced around in the empty space of his thoughts.

Those two... had met before? When?

 




Ami, unfazed by the standoff, unwrapped a packet of some bread, curiously shaped into the vague, yet recognisable outline of the chrysanthemum flower, and began munching nonchalantly. She stepped forward alongside Jack, her every movement radiating confidence and menace. As they advanced, Aisha and her officers instinctively backed away, their resolve wavering.

 

“It’s yOu AgAin,” Ami drawled mockingly, her pink eyes alight with sadistic glee. She pulled out her phone and held it up for Aisha to see. “I know you’ve been on my tail for a while, but now that you’ve found me…”

She tilted her head mockingly, her eyes narrowed and her self-satisfied smirk curling it’s way onto her left cheek.


“What are you gonna do about this?”

 

Aisha’s stance locked up.

 

That was evidence.

 

Proof of her own misdeeds flashing across the screen.


Shell bank accounts linked to her name revealed embezzled funds siphoned from official businesses operating in the area.

 

Her expression shifted from defiance to panic as she dropped the gun. 

 

“No… That’s not…” she stammered, her voice trembling.

 

Jack watched in disbelief, slowly sheathing his sword as an entire character assasination seemed to play out in sickening fashion across from his position. He watched in shock, awe and consternation as Aisha slumped to her knees on the floor, with Ami kneeling down, a triumphant smirk on her face as she brushed a stray lock of hair from her bare forehead.

 

“You wouldn’t want your dear father to find out that you, police chief of Megalopolis E-273, were secretly stealing credits intended for other purposes, would you?” Ami purred, her voice dripping with venom.

 

Aisha choked, tears welling up in her eyes. “Gkh… It’s not what it looks like…”

 

Ami sneered, momentarily placing a finger under Aisha’s chin before flicking her forehead with her thumb and forefinger. Aisha’s head snapped back slightly, her pride crumbling along with her composure.

 

“Ohhhh nooooo…. the head of the police in E-273, the supposed paragon of propriety… is a thief? And a cheat…?”

Ami leaned in closer, her voice dangerously soft.

“Would your father even recognise this pathetic version of you, hmm?”

 

Aisha struggled to explain. “No… I can justify this! Those funds were supposed to go to my family who’s in another city… far away from—”

 

“Rules are rules,” Ami interrupted coldly. “And if Aku found out…”

She let the threat hang in the air, heavy and suffocating.

“Do you think you’d live…?”


“I don’t know…” was the meek response from Aisha.

"You know the answer." Ami’s tone left no room for a coherent response.

Jack stepped forward, as if wanting to say something, but no words would come out of his mouth. All he could do was simply watch as Ami knelt, the look of sadistic glee on her face seeming to melt Aisha’s resolve away, his stomach twisting into knots at the scene in front of him.

After a long pause, Ami’s gaze softened momentarily. Sighing, she stood up promptly, randomly kicking rocks off her shoes, and gazed at the formerly valiant platoon of cops, now reduced to shivering, cowering wrecks under her suffocating aura.

“Live quietly, Aisha.” She stuck out her tongue playfully as Aisha fumbled to sheathe the laser gun at the side of her trouser’s pockets, all the while glaring daggers at the pink-eyed Daughter of Aku that had so chosen to threaten her with such compromising information that if leaked… could spell the end of not just her career, but her life.

 

Aisha, her chest heaving with ragged breaths, hauled herself upright, the movement sharp and decisive. With a curt flick of her hand, she dismissed the encircling Aku Cops, their armored forms receding into the shadows. Her gaze, a burning brand of frustrated fury, lingered on Ami, whose smirk seemed to carve deeper lines into her resolve.


“You… ah.”

Aisha pivoted sharply, the abruptness of her turn a physical manifestation of her inner turmoil. She strode away, a figure of rigid purpose, leaving behind the scene of the alleged transgression, abandoning both the taunting smirk of Ami and the concerned pensive gaze of Jack. Each footfall was a declaration of retreat, a desperate flight from the confrontation, and the people she could no longer face. The air crackled with unspoken threats and the heavy weight of her unspoken words.

Some of Aisha’s subordinates rushed to her aid, but she waved their confrontational attitude off

“We… disperse now..” She breathlessly commanded, a low growl emanating from her dry throat.

Panting, she glared at Ami and Jack one final time before turning on her heelsl and marching out of the warehouse, her retreating figure radiating humiliation and defeat, her subordinates in close tow behind her.







Ami returned to her snack, chewing thoughtfully, eyes fixated at the sky, the usual stars having been obscured by a veil of dark clouds.

“Weather’s like shit these days. Heh.”


Jack stared at her in bewilderment, begrudgingly marvelling at how Ami was able to be so nonchalant. “Mmm…” she mumbled around a mouthful of bread. “Shit, why’s the honey filling so chewy here?”

 

Jack scratched his head, trying to process everything he’d just witnessed. “Ami… Do you usually eat like this in… tense situations?”

 

Ami raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “You think I don’t? Tch. This is some good ass gukhwappang.”


She took another bite, deliberately chewing loudly.


“Want some?” Ami, still clearly basking in her superiority, asked, as chunks of the confectionery flew out her mouth haphazardly. 

 

Jack waved his hands dismissively. “N… no. I’m fine… thanks.”

 

He attempted a soft smile despite the unease pooling in his stomach. “Thank you for the fake IDs anyway.”

 

Ami grinned toothily, her gaze lowering slightly. “You’re most welcome… Samurai.”

 





Jack and Ami lingered by the entrance of the dilapidated warehouse. The echoes of Aisha’s retreating footsteps still hung faintly in the night, mingling with the distant hum of levitating trains, the slight whistle of the wind whipping past the steel and reinforced concrete of the looming, shadowy buildings of the city, slicing through the humid atmosphere. Above them, clouds obscured the moonlight, casting long shadows across the overgrown grass that sprawled untamed around the compound.

 

Exhausted, mentally battered and essentially alone, he glanced at Ami, who continued munching on her honey-flavored bread nonchalantly, seemingly unfazed by the chaos she had just orchestrated. Her pink irises gleamed under the dim glow of a flickering streetlamp nearby, reflecting an unsettling mix of mischief and menace.

 

“I… admire your courage,” Jack said finally, his voice steady but tinged with disbelief.

 

Ami paused mid-bite, raising an eyebrow. “Huh?” she muttered, crumbs clinging to the corner of her mouth as she tilted her head slightly. She resumed chewing slowly, clearly amused by his words.

 

“The way you just… shoved your thumb into the barrel of that laser gun…” Jack continued, his tone laced with reluctant admiration.

 

”That was… commendable. Courageous. A mark of a fearless warrior.”

 

Ami let out a sharp cackle, nearly choking on her bread before swallowing it down with exaggerated effort.

 

“Oh, this?” she replied, holding up her hand for emphasis.

 

With a smirk, she peeled back something hidden beneath her thumbnail, a small robotic chip concealed under what looked like synthetic skin. The red light embedded within glinted eerily in the shroud of the cloudy night.

 

Jack’s eyes widened further as realization dawned on him. “What did you… do to your thumb?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

 

Ami sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes. “Oh, man. Long story.”

She flicked the tiny device off her fingertip, letting it land softly in her palm.

 

“If she fired—” Ami leaned in closer, her grin widening devilishly.

“—of course the laser blast would ricochet internally and blast HER in the face. Heh heh..”

 

Jack stared at her in stunned silence, his lip slackening as the implications sank in.
Ami casually crushed the device in her hand, the subtle yet high-pitched whine of its internal mechanisms ceasing instantly. A trickle of blood oozed from where she’d ripped away the synthetic layer covering her nail, dripping onto the damp grass below.

 

“Ah well…” Ami shrugged, brushing the remnants of the crushed device onto the ground. “I can get more. Just gotta ask the right people.”

 

“But why… why did you destroy it if it saved your life?” Jack stammered, struggling to process her actions.

 

Ami rolled her eyes again, exhaling sharply. “Ugh, you’re slow,” she drawled, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Of course… like with all things in this world, it has a serial number and tracking device. I wanna live, you know. I have people to fuck up.” She cackled, her laughter echoing through the empty courtyard.

 

Jack shook his head, trying to reconcile the woman before him with the calculating manipulator he’d witnessed earlier. Yet there was no denying her resourcefulness—or her ruthlessness. He watched silently as Ami licked the remaining honey filling from her fingers, oblivious to the growing sense of dread pooling in his stomach.

 

“You’re unbelievable,” Jack muttered under his breath, though whether it was meant as praise or criticism remained unclear even to himself.

 

Ami grinned toothily, her pink eyes glinting with satisfaction. “You’re only realizing that now? Tch. And here I thought you were supposed to be observant, oh-so-noble Samurai.”

 

Her mocking tone brought a faint flush of irritation to Jack’s cheeks, but he chose not to rise to the bait. Instead, he turned his gaze toward the horizon, where the towering skyscrapers of Megalopolis E-273 loomed against the darkened sky. For a moment, neither spoke—their shared silence heavy with unspoken questions and lingering suspicions.

 

Finally, Ami broke the quiet, her voice dropping into a conspiratorial murmur. “So… about those IDs…”

 

Jack stiffened, snapping his attention back to her. “What about them?”

 

She smirked, pulling out one of the fake IDs from her pocket and twirling it between her fingers. “Consider it my gift to you. But remember…” Her expression hardened ever so slightly, her playful demeanor giving way to something colder, sharper. “…you owe me one.”

 

Jack met her gaze squarely, his resolve strengthening despite the gnawing unease in his gut. “I don’t... feel like I should be... owing you anything..” he stated, his voice cutting through the night like steel.

 

Ami raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. “Bold words for someone who couldn’t even save his own kingdom,” she shot back, her tone dripping with venom.

 

The barb struck deep, igniting a spark of surprise and a jolt of anger in his chest. How did she know… that his kingdom had been destroyed by Aku…? Via the apocalyptic suffering the demon had wrought on his kingdom..?

Flames singed at his heart, threatening to corrupt his usually stoic and soft-spoken demeanor as he gripped his sword, grinding his teeth, almost wishing he had never met one of his beloved’s identical septuplets at all in this timeline—especially one that he had suspected was so twisted by Aku’s influence .


But before he could respond, Ami turned on her heel, sauntering toward the edge of the compound with an air of practiced indifference.

 

“Come on, Samurai,” she called, her tone jaunty, yet serpentlike, over her shoulder, her silhouette framed by the dim glow of the neon city lights. “No use crying over spilled milk.” 

 

Jack hesitated, restraining himself  his hand instinctively moving to the hilt of his katana. As much as he distrusted her, he knew she most likely held answers; answers he desperately needed to uncover the truth of this warped timeline. With a resigned sigh, he followed her into the shadows, the weight of their uneasy alliance settling heavily upon his shoulders.

 



The night draped the city in a velvet cloak, pierced only by the somber amber glow of streetlamps, solitary beacons in the darkness. The deserted roads, echoing with the occasional unsettling howl or shriek of nocturnal creatures, snaked through a forest of towering concrete structures, their upper reaches lost in the inky sky. Amidst this urban expanse, a newly refurbished building stood as a stark contrast: its walls, panels of flawless, transparent glass, revealed a modern sanctuary within.
A suave, inviting waiting area unfolded, furnished with rows of sleek, comfortable seating, leading to an information desk positioned at the room's far end. The building's facade bore a sign, its blue lettering subdued yet distinct, accompanied by a shield-shaped logo sporting six prominent horns: "Police Headquarters: Megalopolis E-273.

Aisha barged into the automatic doors of the building, her troops in tow. She sat down promptly on one of the plastic chairs in the waiting lobby, feeling her hands trembling, not only from the chill of the gentle air conditioning, but also because of the fear bubbling inside her heart from the previous interaction with Ami.

One, a seemingly yeti-like officer with blue skin and white fur all over his body, piped up as the others all dispersed into other rooms of the vast building.“Superintendent Aisha, you okay? What did she show you?”

Aisha gave a small smile, eeking out the words she wanted to say as smoothly as she could.

“I’m fine… I’m fine. Please, go back to your department. I’ll.. handle this case… myself.”

The officer shrugged. With a simple “Okay.” he sauntered off to join his colleagues in the other room, but not before taking one last look at the formerly composed, dignified police chief, now with her head in her hands, her lips trembling and her hands quivering as she continued to stew over the situation that had happened earlier.


Aisha slumped into her chair, her mind racing. “Fuck… fuck… shit…” she muttered under her breath. “I can’t let my dad know I’ve been doing this… I could be punished…!”

 

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sudden appearance of a woman, hair slicked back to a pointed tip, clad in a sleek black cloak adorned with gadgets. A kusarigama hung at her side, and her green eyes glowed with unwavering loyalty to Aku.

 

“…Young Priestess of the Global Order.. Ashi …” Aisha stammered, bowing slightly. “I…”

 

Ashi scoffed, crossing her arms tritely. “Save your words for the next time we meet.”

 

As Ashi sashayed out of the automatic doors, Aisha felt a surge of anger and dread churn in her gut. She sighed heavily, rubbing her temples.

 

“She must be here on an impromptu inspection…” Aisha muttered bitterly. “Had I known she was coming, I might not have tried to interact with her sister… at all.”

Chapter 12: CXII

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

The streets of Megalopolis E-273 were eerily quiet at this hour—around 2 AM, cloaked in the thick embrace of clouds that smothered any trace of moonlight. Neon signs flickered faintly above abandoned storefronts, casting distorted reflections onto puddles scattered across the cracked pavement. Jack and Ami walked side by side, his geta and her ballerina flats echoing softly against the desolate surroundings. The city felt alive yet hollow, its towering skyline gleaming with an artificial glow that did little to mask the underlying rot beneath Aku’s rule.

 

Jack broke the silence first, his voice low but firm. “Tell me what you know about Aku’s rule. About why this world… looks like this.”

 

Ami stopped abruptly, turning to face him with mock astonishment. Her hands flew to her hips as she gasped theatrically. “Ohhh! Big Samurai wants my opinion? What an honour!”

She smirked, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “I mean, you did kill me first in the last timeline.”

 

Jack froze, his hand instinctively tightening around the hilt of his katana. “…Come again?”

This was the second time she’d mentioned that she knew about the way she died to his blade in the erased timeline. The venerable samurai’s mind churned this thought over and over again as his heart rate erratically increased, a storm brewing in the deepest recesses of his soul. 

 

Ami leaned closer, her grin widening until her teeth glinted sharply in the dim light. “Oops. Shouldn’t have said that.” Her pink irises sparkled with mischief. “Shards of erased timelines and all that. Kinda weird how I remember dying, huh?”

 

A tense silence stretched between them. Jack furrowed his brows, his emotions swirling dangerously close to the surface—pity, sympathy, sadness, anger, contempt, rage—all colliding in a storm within him. He struggled to process her casual dismissal of her own death, her flippant attitude masking something far deeper.

 

“It’s funny, isn’t it?” Ami continued, gesturing grandly at the gleaming cityscape around them. Her voice softened momentarily before she let out a snicker under her breath. “Nothing changed at all, if you think about it.”

 

Jack stared at her, his jaw tightening. “You know something. Tell me. Why did Aku win?”

 

Ami tilted her head slightly, her expression shifting from playful to dead serious. “Because people believed in him,” she said simply. “And belief? It’s power. A whole city’s faith in their one true ruler? You can run a world on that.”

 

“…Faith?” Jack echoed, his voice tinged with disbelief.

 

Ami nodded, her lips curling into a sly smile. “You saw those trains, that infrastructure, the economy? That’s all powered by him. By society…"

She pauses, momentarily glancing at a darkly-painted shoplot, with an ominous red 6-horned logo on it, her chuckles threatening to spill out of her throat, and continues.

“...willingly devoting it’s entire existence to him.. It’s how he keeps the machine running. Siphoning devotion like a battery.”

She paused, turning back to look at the samurai, hands gripping the hem of her pants through the fabric of her muted pink jacket, her voice lowering into a conspiratorial whisper.

“And you know what’s really funny?”

 

“…What?” Jack asked cautiously.

 

“Heh…” Ami chuckled darkly, her gaze darting around as if checking for unseen listeners. “Can’t say too much. They may be listening. Gotta shut my big mouth for now…”

 

With that cryptic remark hanging in the air, they resumed walking in silence, the oppressive weight of unanswered questions settling heavily between them. After several minutes, Ami sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes.

 

“Oh yeah, right. I have to get to some place…” She muttered something unintelligible under her breath—a curse Jack couldn’t quite catch—and turned to him with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Samurai, do you wanna follow me?”

 

Jack hesitated, gripping his katana even tighter.

“…Where to?”

 

Ami rolled her eyes again, exasperated beyond belief.

“Huh… fuck… just some tavern. Goddamn.. you look at me like I’m about to sell your organs on the dark web or something. Shit…”

She cackled, clearly amused by his suspicion.

 

Despite his unease, Jack followed her through the winding streets, keeping a hand on the hilt of his sword as he followed his unwilling tour guide through the winding streets of the city, watching as Ami occasionally looked  they reached a dimly lit tavern tucked away in a secluded corner of the metropolis, it’s cobblestone frame haphazardly wedged in between sprawling buildings of the megalopolis.
Inside, the air was thick with the mingling scents of alcohol, sweat, and cheap cologne. Patrons; humans, aliens, anthropomorphic hybrids, sat hunched over tables, their conversations fading into a low hum around them as Jack and Ami entered.

 

After selecting a relatively empty corner of the tavern, and planting themselves firmly on the barstools at the corner, the bartender, an ape-like humanoid, drawled in a bored, disinterested tone. “Name’s Gordo… anything I can get for you today?”

“Beonyeong Premium. 2 glasses, mix two-thirds soju, one-third your local lager brand. Thanks!” Ami grinned cheerfully, rummaging her purse for one of the multiple debit/credit cards she carried on her at all times.

“Sure.” was the deadpan response.

Jack watched in trepidation as the ape bartender poured the drinks with surprising efficiency, mixing some of the strange drink he’d not seen before, watching intently as the bubbles of the soju gently rose to the surface of the liquid, then observed even closer as the bartender seemed to pour another, more standard lager that he was familiar with, having had one too many drinks with the Scotsman, in the erased timeline, to forget the unmistakable scent and the taste of the ale.

“Here’s your drink.” Gordo slid the two glasses back to them as Ami swiped her card on the register. In an instant, the transaction was completed, and Gordo disappeared into the backrooms of the tavern as Ami shifted the two glasses of the curious mix to Jack.

The samurai, stoic and as reserved as ever, eyed the glass warily, refusing to touch it. “You expect me to trust you after everything?” he asked, his tone laced with suspicion.

 

Ami guffawed, raising her glass in a mock toast. “Funny you think I could poison you when I’m sitting right in front of you. Hahahaaha…!”

She downed her drink in one gulp, smacking her lips loudly. “Your loss. Damn. This cocktail’s fucking delicious!”

 

Their exchange was interrupted when someone tapped Ami lightly on the shoulder. A shadowy figure slipped a folded note into her hand before disappearing into the crowd as quickly as they had appeared. Ami unfolded the paper that had been slipped between her fingers, her brow furrowing slightly as she scanned the contents.

“Shit.. should be careful when opening these so suddenly. Could give me anthrax, or some other dangerous disease.” Ami snickered under her breath as Jack winced at the idea of chemical weapons suddenly disturbing the oddly serene tranquility of the quaint tavern they were in.

“What… a bunch of codes? Ah shit….” Confusion flickered across her face before giving way to realisation, as Ami rolled her eyes, letting out a slight exhale of exasperation.

“They couldn’t have sent this to me over text, of course. They had to get some irrelevant fucker to drop this to me in the middle of a somewhat crowded tavern.”

Jack leaned forward, catching a glimpse of the note . “Nyllapunz Jvbualzz Htp…” it began, followed by a block of coded text, assumedly a sort of cipher—“OAGCPVX: Tkwfiwv wxio krymqrr…”—and a small graphic at the bottom: “40K by 12/20/2XXX.”

“What is that?” he asked, his voice laced with suspicion.

Ami’s confusion quickly gave way to recognition. She squinted, her eyes gleaming as she muttered under her breath, decoding the ciphers with alarming speed. “Greetings Countess Ami… your sister, the sapphire-eyed devil… remote island in the western ocean…” She moved to the second section, mentally applying another cipher to decode the seemingly random jumbled string of letters, her lips curling into a grin.
“Ari has been conducting experiments… shielded by perpetual storms…”

Finally, she tackled the last section, decoding the clue “CC ltiiabkxmbwxl”, instinctively understanding that it was likely a passcode that led to another passcode within the tail end of the note's contents.

“Ari holds secrets on island…experiments may be tied to Aku’s faith… he must not know of my involvement…”


“Yeah, okay. Heh… this development is… certainly welcome.”

Her grin widened as she reached the end, a dangerous glint, a fusion of malice, passion, and devilish intent, flickered in her eyes as she absorbed the note's contents, her understanding chillingly clear.


Jack’s brow furrowed, his confusion palpable amidst the raucous chaos of the lively tavern.. “What is that note..?” he muttered, keeping his volume to a minimum, staring at the jumble of letters.

Ami downed her shot of soju in one swift motion, slamming the glass on the table with a satisfied smirk. “Nothing important… heh,” she lied, folding the note and tucking it into her pocket.

Jack’s gaze narrowed, his frustration mounting. Of course she understood it—he didn’t. Her secrecy only deepened his distrust, but he knew pressing her now would get him nowhere.

 

Ami nodded to the alien-like humanoid bartender, swiped her card on the credit scanner, settling their tab, then gestured to him with a playful tilt of her head. “Samurai… wanna follow me?”

Jack hesitated, his instincts screaming to walk away. But the note, the mystery, the stakes—it could be a lead to Aku’s plans. “Sure…” he muttered, rising to follow her.

 

As they prepared to leave, the atmosphere in the tavern shifted subtly. The door swung open, and a familiar figure stepped inside. Heads turned, murmurs rippling through the room.

 

“Shit, it’s the Young Priestess…”

“What’s she here for?”


“Someone’s about to get fucked up…”

“Stay quiet. Shit’s about to hit the fucking fan…”

 

Jack’s heart sank, his eyes drooping with pain, anguish and sadness as he and Ami looked over their shoulders, craning their necks to see the source of the commotion.

The person he’d almost married in the past, the person who’d been his best friend and companion throughout the brief window of time he’d known her in the erased timeline, who’d been born of the shadows, raised to kill him, and yet had shown him love towards the end of her short and painful existence… The woman who had faded at the wedding, clad in her shiromuku whilst he, in his black wedding-suit, wept for her…

She was here.

And she was loyal to Aku once again.


Ashi strode in, clad in her sleek black cloak adorned with gadgets. Her kusarigama hung at her side, and her green eyes burned with unwavering loyalty to Aku. She moved with calculated precision, stopping beside a burly alien seated at a table.

 

“Lord Aku suspects you of treason to the Global Order,” she declared coldly, her voice cutting through the sudden hush that fell over the tavern.

 

The green alien man, smoothing down his plaid shirt, stood abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. “What the fuck?! I haven’t done shit!”

 

Ashi’s expression remained impassive. “All threats like you must be eliminated for the greater good.”


Against his better judgement, the Samurai stood up, his wild hair flowing down his face as he marched over to the commotion happening at the other end of the tavern. Ami watched on, a bored, almost disinterested expression in her eyes as she leaned her cheek against her fist.

“What the fuck is this guy doing now..” She muttered, barely audibly.

He waded past bodies and piles of citizens, human and non-human alike, who had coalesced into a densely packed congregation of witnesses to the incident, until he got to the centre of the crowd. His eyes widened in disbelief and horror as he caught a glimpse of Ashi, in her black cloak and catsuit, forcing the alien over the table as she handcuffed him. Surrounding her were a small group of officers, of varying species and/or ethnic groups, forming a protective barrier around her, ensuring no one else but her and the alien would be in close proximity to each other.

In the claustrophobic space, Jack caught sight of Ashi through the crowded atmosphere, and doing his best to wade past all the others in the tavern, he tapped a burly, towering alien officer on the back of his bulletproof vest, and pleaded for him to allow access to Ashi.

Ami leaned back in her chair, her teeth glinting with amusement as she sipped her own drink. “You gonna drink that, Samurai, or just stare at it ‘til it evaporates?” she teased, her voice a low purr. But Jack barely heard her, his gaze fixed on Ashi, his mind racing with questions. 

Is it her?

Could it be her?

Does she remember... like Ami?

He stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor, drawing a few curious glances from the bar’s patrons—mostly aliens and humans drowning their sorrows in Aku’s neon-lit hellscape. Ami raised an eyebrow, her grin widening. “Oh, going to chat up the enforcer girl? Bold move,” she said, her tone dripping with mockery, but Jack ignored her, his steps slow and deliberate as he approached Ashi.

A hulking alien officer stepped into his path, his red sclera glowing faintly in the dim light, a look of taciturn suspicion etched into his scaled face. He wore the black-and-orange uniform of Aku’s security forces, a badge of authority pinned to his chest, and his clawed hand rested on the hilt of a stun baton at his side. “Where do you think you’re going, human?” the officer growled, his voice a low rumble, his faux kindness belied by the sharp edge in his tone.

Jack stopped, his expression stoic but his heart pounding, the weight of his grief and curiosity threatening to crack his composure.

“I… need to speak with her,” he said, his voice low, gesturing toward Ashi, who was now securing the alien-man’s restraints, her back to them.

The officer’s red eyes narrowed, his suspicion deepening.

“You have proof that you know her, or…?” he asked, his tone laced with challenge, his imposing presence meant to intimidate.

Jack sighed, the sound heavy with exhaustion.

“We’re… friends,” he stated blankly, lying through the skin of his teeth, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. He knew Ashi—or at least, he had known her in another life, another timeline—but this Ashi, with her cold green eyes and unwavering loyalty to Aku, was a stranger to him.

The officer tilted his head, his red sclera glinting with doubt.

“Are you sure?”

He pressed, his faux kindness a thin veneer over his real impressions of the Samurai—a potential threat in a city where Aku’s control was absolute.

Jack paused, the silence as dense as a block of tungsten, the weight of the officer’s gaze bearing down on him. He could feel the eyes of the bar’s patrons on him, the tension in the air thickening with every passing second.

“Yes. I know her… and I wish to talk to her,” he said finally, his voice steady despite the storm raging inside him.

The officer’s gaze flicked to Jack’s side, where his katana rested, its hilt exposed, sheathed at the side of his gi.

“You have a weapon,” the officer said, his tone sharpening as he gestured to the sword, attempting to leverage his imposing presence to shake the stoic-faced Samurai into submission.

Jack’s jaw tightened, his mind racing for an excuse. “It’s a… prop weapon,” he said, the lies escaping his teeth almost like a python slithering through the gnarled barks of moss-covered trees.
He kept his expression neutral, his sharp features betraying none of the turmoil within, but the officer’s red eyes lingered on the katana, as if weighing the truth of his words.

The officer stood there for a long moment, his clawed hand still on his stun baton, the tension between them palpable. Finally, he stepped aside, his movements slow and deliberate, his red sclera never leaving Jack.

“If that’s so… then… proceed.”

Jack exhaled softly, the weight of the encounter settling into his bones, but he couldn’t afford to dwell on it. No longer able to control the dark curiosity that had consumed his mind, he briskly walked over until he was standing just behind Ashi, who had by now fully restrained the dejected alien-man, his four arms bound tightly, his head bowed in defeat.

Ashi turned slightly, sensing his presence, her  eyes narrowing as they met his.

“What do you want?” she asked, her voice cold and sharp, her grip on the kusarigama tightening.

 

Jack’s heart clenched at the sound—her voice was the same, yet so different, stripped of the warmth he remembered. 

“I…” Jack began, his voice faltering, the words caught in his throat as he searched her face for any sign of the Ashi he had known. But all he saw was a loyal enforcer of Aku, her green eyes devoid of recognition, her posture tense and ready for a fight.

And then Jack said, his voice almost cracking with emotion.

“Ashi… is that… you?”


Ashi turned her gaze to him, her green eyes cold and ruthless. Ami lingered in the shadows behind them, grinning maliciously. 

 

“Who are you?” Ashi demanded, her tone sharp.

 

Jack’s shoulders slumped slightly, his gaze lowering. “Do you not remember me…? We were.. together at one point in time.…”

 

Ashi scoffed, crossing her arms tritely. “Me? I’d never even think of getting with such an ancient-looking man.” She recoiled, almost sticking out her tongue in disgust. 

 

Their conversation escalated quickly, with Jack pleading for her to reconsider her actions. “You shouldn’t simply arrest people like this…”

 

Ashi’s response was icy. “No. Aku’s orders demand that I bring this man to trial.”

 

Tensions flared further when Ashi drew her kusarigama, unfastening it from the belt around her , prompting Jack to unsheathe his sword. Before either could strike, Ami intervened, stepping between them with a wicked grin.

 

“Remember what I said at that time…?” she purred, addressing Ashi directly.

 

Ashi paused mid-motion, handcuffing the alien man roughly.

“????”

 

Ami’s grin widened, shots of malice directed to her own sister. “Your longing to belong will be your undoing.”

 

Ashi scoffed, turning away with the alien and other officers in tow. As she left, she glanced back at them briefly, suspicion flickering across her features. Jack watched her go, torn between pursuing her and staying put.

 

Ami placed a restraining hand on his arm, her voice low and venomous. 

"Hey, Big Guy... if you just let things play out how they’re playing out now…”


She leaned in closer, her breath like a vial of poison snaking it's way into his ear. 

“…in time, she will be no more.”

 

Jack stood frozen, unsure of what to do next. His mind raced with conflicting thoughts, but one thing was certain: this twisted game was far from over.





Ashi’s cloak billowed as she exited the tavern, her officers dragging the handcuffed alien behind her. The crowd parted, their murmurs fading into a tense silence, but Jack’s heart pounded with urgency. He took a step forward, his hand instinctively reaching for his katana, his voice a desperate whisper. “Ashi…” Without thinking, he broke into a run, determined to chase after her.

A slender arm shot out, blocking his path. Ami stood in his way, her expression a mix of amusement and exasperation, her face shadowed by the bright lights of the tavern. Jack skidded to a halt, his chest heaving as he met her gaze.

“Ami,” he said, his voice firm but pleading, “we’ve got to convince Ashi that this is wrong.”

Ami rolled her pink eyes, a scoff escaping her lips. “Fuck… you’re so predictable,” she muttered, her tone dripping with disdain.

Jack winced, recoiling as if her words had struck him.

 

“Ami… this is wrong,” he insisted, his voice trembling with conviction.

“You… we all can’t work for Aku!”

Ami’s expression went blank, her silence heavy and unreadable.

 

 “..”

Jack raised his palms in a pleading gesture, his eyes searching hers for any sign of understanding.

 

“Don’t you… think so? She is your sister…! You need to convince her—”

Ami let out a long, exaggerated sigh, cutting him off.

“Haaaa… he still thinks it’s that simple,” she said, her voice low and mocking, as if speaking to herself.

Jack’s mind flashed to the erased timeline—memories of enemies turned allies through honor and understanding: the Scotsman’s boisterous loyalty, the Imakandi feline warriors’ respect, the blind archers’ gratitude, Da Samurai’s redemption, even the Triseraquins’ eventual alliance.

“Ami… this is. No. You can’t,” he stammered, his voice rising with desperation. “We have to change her mind somehow…!”

Ami’s gaze dropped, her face shadowed, her tone cold and cutting.
“You still think the world we exist in right now can play by those rules… huh.”

She glanced at the cipher note in her hand, the one she’d decoded moments ago, and rolled her eyes again. With a flick of her wrist, she unblocked Jack, stepping aside, but her demeanor remained icy.
“Then try to change the world… tch,” she said, her voice laced with contempt as she turned away.

Jack’s usually stoic features twisted into a consterned look, a deep unease settling in his chest. He felt the weight of their mistrust, the chasm between their ideals, and it left him hollow.

“…Let’s go to… wherever you want to go first… okay?” he said quietly, his voice strained

 “I will not bring this up further for now.”

Ami turned back to him, a grin spreading across her face, but it was devoid of warmth. “…Sure thing,” she replied, her tone mockingly sweet.

The tavern’s noise resumed around them, but the air between Jack and Ami crackled with unspoken tension. They didn’t trust each other—not even close—and as they stepped into the night, the weight of their uneasy alliance hung heavy, a storm brewing on the horizon.

Notes:

"CC(+7): "Nyllapunz Jvbualzz Htp. Dl jvtl mvyao ilhypun nvvk uldz pu aol vunvpun zlhyjo mvy fvby zpzaly, aol zhwwopyl-lflk klcps. Hmaly lealuzpcl ylzlhyjo, dl kpzjvclylk yljvykz pukpjhapun zol ylzpklz vu h yltval pzshuk pu aol dlzalyu vjlhu. Mbyaoly puclzapnhapvu ylclhsz bubzbhs woluvtluh zbyyvbukpun aol hylh."

AC: "Ivkligh rmwrxzgv Zir szh yvvm xlmwfxgrmt vckvirnvmgh lm nzirmv oruv, klhhryob rmeloermt wzip nztrx li uliyrwwvm gvxsmloltb. Gsv rhozmw rh hsrvowvw yb kvikvgfzo hglinh, ivmwvirmt rg rmzxxvhhryov gl lfghrwvih. Xlliwrmzgvh kilerwvw yvold."

Section 3: (CC ltiiabkxmbwxl -7) VC: OAGCPVX: Tkwfiwv wxio krymqrr. Lze hivzdw txsisj stcaqvrm, ioqgkt vjhzumgo wlw asapul. Ni lcvtwut tmamirtt lrlwrutymegx—xrwkaban sqeoxl ws Scu’h tzavrvm drv/gr wxz qejechruw oc iyqsil iqh hgshxitp iomq suwacxj ncski drv xajch qe xam dvws. Ojg hbkifxww lg ucrvdvv fwui zsvt uhqciw bkyk xag. Tualvx llwujeixvv; Cskl Dom euhi uwk pxiur gx ydjy qezhtyiewni. "Pz byi htg evsgt vvmj... chc vgjstrw vci ftkn, aw kcgpaky chcuw. Jwmtbimi snz dkjwebtub: dymcdp sad xc lftltvji xgr ixtmcc iibqwft. Atzb psn edrl lo htl nzvlbkefv twt jwewxyxifueh dm lrrvqqk sl twt llxi hn gislh'h qsiui..."

40K by 12/12

Chapter 13: CXIII

Chapter Text

The neon-lit streets of the city buzzed with life, a chaotic symphony of hovercars, flickering signs, and the chatter of humans and aliens alike. The air was thick with the scent of street food and exhaust, the city’s pulse a stark contrast to the storm brewing in Jack’s heart. He walked beside Ami, his steps measured, his hand resting on the hilt of his katana. The events of the tavern still gnawed at him.

Ashi’s cold rejection, her green eyes devoid of recognition, the alien’s arrest. It was all wrong, so wrong, and yet… this world seemed to accept it.

“I don’t want to kill her, not like the last timeline, no,” Jack thought, regarding Ami, his grip tightening on his sword. “I can’t do that. She is a human being here. I cannot, in good faith, make the same choices and same mistakes that led me to…”

His mind flashed to the erased timeline, a memory that haunted him like a specter.

One of Aku’s daughters, her mask cracked, sliding down hard concrete, her throat cut, her blood pooling beneath her as the life drained from her eyes. The guilt clawed at him, a wound that refused to heal.

He glanced at Ami, feeling just... odd about her. Something about her that made him fear her And that wasn't usually common for someone of his experience, his status, his dynasty. “There’s just something about her… something about her… attitude,” he thought, his brow furrowing.

“That irks me… It befuddles my conscience.. What is it that I don’t understand about her? What is it that I don’t understand about Aku?”

His thoughts drifted to his arrival through the rift of the abyssal portal, on the outskirts of this sprawling city. He’d expected chaos, rebellion, the same hopelessness he’d seen in the erased timeline. But instead, he’d found… order. Stability. A world where life seemed good, where even Da Samurai, once a brash, boisterous arrogant womaniser, whom Jack had humbled into a true warrior, was now a doting father to a daughter climbing the ranks of Aku’s police force.

“The people should rebel against him… that was how it was. Yet somehow…”

Jack’s confusion deepened, a knot tightening in his chest.

Ami’s voice cut through his thoughts, sharp and teasing. “You’re awfully quiet, Samurai. Still brooding over your little priestess?” She smirked, her tone dripping with mockery as she twirled a strand of her hair around her finger.

Jack’s jaw tightened, his gaze narrowing. “You’re hiding something,” he said, his voice low but firm, his eyes flicking to the folded note in her pocket—the one she’d decoded in the tavern.

Ami tossed her empty soju bottle into the alley with a careless shrug, the glass shattering against the pavement, splintering shards flying across the grimy, puddle-streaked roads of the alleyway. “Of course..,” she replied, her grin foxlike, her eyes almost shifting to a luminous, vibrant fuschia in the neon glow of the city’s lights against the backdrop of the night’s inky blackness.

“But that’s not really something you should be concerned about.”

She turned down a narrower street, her steps purposeful, as if she’d been planning this route all along. “Come on. We’re going somewhere that might help us both. Don’t ask too many questions.”

Jack’s instincts screamed to walk away, to find another path, but he knew Ami had leads—leads that might reveal Aku’s weaknesses, or at least help him understand this twisted world. He followed, his unease growing with every step, the weight of their mistrust a heavy burden on his shoulders.



High above the city, Aku’s local headquarters loomed like a scar against the sky. A mammoth of an obsidian monolith that seemed to twist reality itself, its spires piercing the clouds. Inside, the throne room was a cavernous expanse, its walls adorned with crimson banners, war relics, and shifting aqua-coloured flames that pulsed like a heartbeat. The air was thick with the scent of brimstone, the atmosphere heavy with an oppressive, otherworldly power. Aku lounged on his throne, his form flickering between a humanoid silhouette and an abstract, monstrous abyss, his flaming blue eyebrows crackling with dark energy.

At his feet knelt the High Priestess, her 6'6" frame imposing even in submission, her irises piercing crimson rays through the darkness, her gestures to the demon imbued with fanatical devotion, her long wavy locks cascading over her shoulders.

Her voice was measured, reverent, but sharp with authority as she spoke, her head bowed. “Amusement is not enough, my Lord…” Her tone carried a weight of concern, her words cutting through the silence of the chamber.

Ice blue flames flickered and spat above Aku's eyes as a slow, predatory grin stretched his features. His voice, a playful yet condescending baritone, echoed in the chamber.

"Well now... my precious little acolyte, my steadfastly devoted Azumi..." he purred, the endearments laced with a hint of amusement. He shifted his massive form, casting a long, ominous shadow that, despite her imposing height, almost seemed to swallow her whole.

"The High Priestess, with a question? An intriguing development. Elaborate, if you please."

The High Priestess hesitated, her blood-red eyes flickering with a memory that still burned in her soul.

“…I have reason to believe that…”

Her mind flashed to that time.

Ashi, her own daughter, spearing her in the stomach with an arrow as she lunged for Jack, who meditated on a cliff, oblivious to the chaos. The pain, the betrayal, the fall.

it all came rushing back.

“…cracks will form in her resolve more easily than we think.”

Aku’s grin widened, his thoughts smug: “I’m on top of the world right now…,” he mused internally, his ego as vast as the void.

“I see… I appreciate the concern, my loyal follower, the first to truly change my mind…” he said, his patronising tone echoing through the chamber.

“BUT!”

He chuckled darkly, the sound reverberating like thunder. “Remember what I said…?”

Azumi gazed to the side, her expression unreadable, then nodded slowly. “…Yes.”

Aku yawned, his fangs bared, his voice dripping with menace. “I told you. In this world, we do things differently than before.”

He leaned forward, his flaming eyes narrowing as his lips curled into a conniving grin, the tips of his fingers touching each other. 

“If let’s say, for a moment…”

His mind flashed to more memories of the erased timeline.

The foooooolish samurai, freeing Ashi from his control, Ashi disowning him, dueling him evenly with his own powers, and warping Jack back to the past to destroy him. In the time portal, Jack and Ashi smiled, holding hands, a moment of love that Aku despised with every fiber of his being.

“…That little whelp decides to stray too far from our sphere of influence again…”

Aku reached into a drawer beside his throne, pulling out a small, glowing object—a green memory shard, radiating with defiant luminosity. He twirled it in his gnarled hands, caressing it with a twisted tenderness. .


This will become handy in the future.”


Azumi’s blood-red irises widened. She flinched ever so slightly a flicker of shock crossing her face.

“My lord… isn’t that her shard?” she asked, her voice tinged with unease.

Aku grinned, his flaming brows crackling with amusement.

“Do you remember how you’d said, so long ago, that you’d tighten the leash around her?”

The High Priestess blinked, her mind racing—“Did his divine gaze, by some miracle, peer into the depths of my mind?” she thought, her composure faltering for a moment.

Aku continued, his voice cold and deliberate.

“Well, this... is the leash.”

He leaned back in his throne of iniquity, his tone turning icy.

“Let’s put it this way. We both have burning hatred for her, despite her ability to follow the rules to a tee in this timeline, don’t we, my dear Azumi?”

The High Priestess hesitated, her gaze lowering, the weight of her own hatred pressing down on her. Then she turned back to Aku, nodding slowly yet enthusiastically, her voice firm.

“…We do.”

Aku’s pursed his lips, his flaming brows crackling with malice. “It’s like I said. Free will and fate are really the same thing. The actions a person makes, and the decisions that follow are a reflection of who they are.”

“And in Ashi’s case, nothing changed. She’s still fundamentally the same. Even across both timelines.”

Azumi shifted the topic, her tone cautious but pointed. “…And the samurai? I got word that he somehow, came back to this new world…”

Aku’s tone turned curious, his ears perking up.

“How interesting. Guess my new abyssal portals do let people like him through.. Heh. Does he like it? Does he see the benevolence I grant, the prosperity that I bring upon this world…?”

Azumi smirked softly, a rare hint of amusement in her expression. “Negative, my lord. He disapproves of your benignity.”

Aku erupted into laughter, his voice booming through the chamber—“BWAHHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAAHAHAAHAHAHAHH!”—the sound shaking the very walls.

“Darkly hilarious, what else?” he said, wiping a fiery tear from his eye.

Azumi continued, her voice steady. “What about Ami?”

Aku’s ears perked up again, his inhuman face showing a flicker of surprise. “Ami? Why yes… what about her?”

“Don’t you think… something has changed about her recently?” Azumi asked, her blood-red eyes narrowing slightly.

Aku scratched his beard of blue flames, lost in thought.

“Can’t tell… not sure,” he muttered, his voice trailing off.

Then a spark of realisation lit his eyes, and he grinned.

“You know… come to think of it… I don’t know how, but that shard mysteriously disappeared from one of my facilities a few years ago.”

Aku leaned forward, his tone conspiratorial.

“…Well then. My dear Azumi. If you would be so kind, could you personally direct shadow operatives to just… keep an eye on her? Heh… I always knew…”

His mind flashed to Ami’s life in this timeline-her scheming, her cunning, her chaos, a cambion born to manipulate and deceive.

“…that girl was a born schemer.”

Azumi took a step further, her voice firm with resolve.

“Very well, my lord. In fact, I can personally trail the Samurai if you want me to. I can go to him, and personally vanquish him once and for all, for the hatred within my heart for him… knows no bounds.”

Her mind automatically conjured up more memories: Her battle with Ashi on the mountaintop, Ashi’s defiance, the arrow that impaled her as she fell to her death, the betrayal that still burned in her soul.

Aku was taken aback for a moment, then his grin returned, wider than ever.

“Dear Azumi! Wow! I’m impressed that you’d take the time out of your busy schedule to do that! Well then, it’s settled,” he said, his voice dripping with dark amusement.


“It’s clear we have to… focus on those three for now—the FOOOOLISH Samurai, Ami, and Ashi.”



Elsewhere in Megalopolis E-273, Ashi stood on a platform overlooking a high-containment facility, a stark, oppressive camp surrounded by towering walls and Aku’s crimson banners. The air was cold, the sky above a dull gray, as burly officers led the alien she’d arrested from the tavern into the camp. His gaze was downcast, his shoulders slumped in defeat, the weight of his fate pressing down on him. Ashi watched, her green eyes unreadable, but a strange, ominous weight settled in her chest.

“Do… father and mother… really appreciate what I do around here…?” she thought, her brow furrowing slightly.

“Do I really want this? Do I really want to be his prime heiress…?”

The doubt crept in like a shadow, unbidden and unwelcome, stirring something deep within her.

She shook her head, her expression hardening as she clenched her fists.

“…Yes. I have to do it. For the greater good, for the advancement of society, for progress…!” she told herself, her voice a whisper in her mind. She glanced back at the alien, his figure disappearing into the camp.

“Those who defy… meet that end. I cannot waver in my devotion, not now, never.”

But her thoughts drifted to the man in the gi, who had approached her in the tavern.

“But that man… the one in the ancient-looking robes.. who approached me earlier…” she thought, her green eyes narrowing.

“Why did he look so familiar… and why did he address me by my name, Ashi?”


“How… did that guy know who I was?”

She paused, her expression shifting to confusion, a flicker of something. Perhaps... recognition...?

“…????”

And it was as if the sky mourned not just her, but everything it had silently witnessed over eons, both erased and extant. 



Jack and Ami boarded a sleek maglev train at a bustling station in the heart of Megalopolis E-273, the platform crowded with humans, aliens, and anthropomorphic beings, all moving with the efficiency of a well-oiled machine. Hovercars zipped overhead, their engines humming softly, while neon signs flashed advertisements in a dozen languages. The train itself was a marvel of Aku’s futuristic empire—smooth, silent, its interior lined with holographic displays and cushioned seats. Jack sat near the window, his katana resting across his lap, his sharp features set in a stoic mask as he watched the city pass by. Ami lounged across from him, her legs crossed, smacking her lips absent mindedly she scrolled through a datapad, the cipher note tucked safely in her pocket.

 

The towering spires of the metropolis slowly gave way to quieter, suburban zones on the western outskirts of the city. The streets became less crowded, the buildings smaller and more spaced out, their designs a mix of sleek modernity and quaint charm—sleepy neighborhoods where families lived under Aku’s watchful eye. Children played in the streets, their laughter a stark contrast to the tension in Jack’s chest. He couldn’t shake the feeling that this peace was a facade, a lie built on Aku’s tyranny.


 “This world… it’s too perfect,” he thought, his brow furrowing. “There should be rebellion… resistance… something.”

 

Ami glanced up from her datapad, catching his expression. “You look like you’re about to start a revolution, Samurai,” she teased, her smirk widening. “Relax. We’re almost there.”

 

The train came to a stop at the edge of the suburbs, the final station before the true outskirts of the city. Jack and Ami disembarked, the platform nearly empty save for a few stragglers. They cleared the security check with an unsettling ease, and descended the escalator of the station as the train whooshed off into the distance.
Once down at the lobby, the two silently exited the bustle of the terminal, walked through the doors and stepped outside into the suburban streets of the unfamiliar district, the houses growing sparser, the air cooler as the city’s hum faded into the distance.

Eventually, they reached a checkpoint—a security border marking the boundary between the suburbs and the wild lands beyond. A tall, three-eyed blue alien stood at the gate, his uniform emblazoned with Aku’s insignia, a scanner in his hand. Behind him, a group of guards—humans, anthropomorphic animals (a dog-man with a snarling muzzle, a cat-woman with sharp claws)—congregated, their weapons at the ready.

 

“Halt,” the alien barked, his three eyes narrowing as he scanned Jack and Ami. “Where are you going? Aku’s security forces demand that you have a permit to leave the city.”

 

Jack’s hand instinctively moved to his katana, his brows furrowing, his angular, sharp features grimacing into a scowl. The guards tensed, their hands on their weapons, the air crackling with the threat of violence. But before Jack could draw his sword, Ami stepped forward, her voice calm but firm.

“Samurai… no. Stop,” she said, her tone carrying a rare edge of authority.

 

Jack hesitated, his hand still on his sword, his eyes flicking to Ami. He couldn’t understand how she remained so calm, how she always seemed to have a plan.

Ami turned to the alien, her smirk returning as she reached into her pocket and pulled out a sleek, black access card, its surface etched with Aku’s symbol. “We’re on official business,” she said, her voice smooth, almost playful. She held the card up, letting the alien scan it.

 

The alien’s three eyes widened as the scanner beeped, a holographic display confirming her identity

. “Oh… okay, okay,” he stammered, his tone shifting to one of deference. “We understand… we’ll let you leave…” The guards lowered their weapons, stepping back, their expressions a mix of fear and respect.

 

Ami turned to Jack, her smirk widening. “See? I’ve got this under control,” she said, her tone teasing as she tucked the card back into her pocket.

 

Jack’s scowl deepened, his unease growing. “You… hold this much influence over law enforcement…” he muttered, the words heavy on his tongue. He’d known it, of course, but seeing her wield that power so effortlessly, the sea of guards almost parting at the threat of her presence—it unsettled him. He followed her through the well-polished, immaculately constructed border gate, his mind racing with questions he knew she wouldn’t answer.

 

Beyond the checkpoint, the suburbia gave way to stretching plains with gently rolling hills, the grass swaying in the breeze, the horizon vast and open. They walked for hours, the plains gradually giving way to a dense jungle as far as the eye could see, its canopy thick and foreboding, the air heavy with the scent of earth and salt. The sound of waves crashing in the distance hinted at the ocean nearby, a reminder of their destination—the coordinates that would lead them to Ari.



Jack and Ami pressed deeper into the jungle, the undergrowth thick and tangled, the air humid and heavy. The light filtering through the canopy cast dappled shadows on the ground, the sounds of wildlife—chirping insects, distant roars—filling the silence between them. Jack’s senses were on high alert, his katana at the ready, while Ami moved with a casual confidence, her eyes scanning the trees as if she knew exactly where they were going.

 

“We’re close,” she said, her voice low, her smirk returning. “The building we need to go to.. is just ahead… near the ocean. It’ll have what we need to find... the person we're gonna be looking for.”

 

Jack nodded, his expression grim. “And what then?” he asked, his voice heavy with doubt. “What do you plan to do with her?”

 

Ami glanced at him, her tone cryptic, as if she had somehow obscured his thoughts with smoke. “You’ll see, Samurai,” she replied. “You’ll see.”

 

The jungle stretched on, the sound of the ocean growing louder, the air growing cooler as they neared their destination. But the weight of their mistrust, the looming threat of Aku’s forces, and the mystery of the person they were going to find loomed over them, much like Aku's shadow had been doing over the entire world thus far. 

Chapter 14: CXIV

Chapter Text

 

The abandoned data hub loomed ahead, a crumbling structure nestled in a dense tree canopy near the ocean, its silhouette barely visible through the dewy mist. The sound of waves crashing against the nearby shore mingled with the rustle of leaves, the air thick with the scent of salt and pine. The hub itself was a relic of Aku’s early rule over the new world,, its walls cracked and overgrown with vines, its interior a maze of flickering screens and broken tech.

Jack and Ami stepped inside, the dim light casting eerie shadows on the walls, the air heavy with dust and the faint hum of dying machinery.

Ami moved with a focused intensity, her eyes scanning the screens as she accessed the hub’s records. “This place has records… about Ari, about the shards, about Aku’s control,” she muttered, her tone cryptic, her fingers flying over a cracked terminal.

Jack stood nearby, his hand never far from his katana, his posture tense. “What do you know about this... timeline?” he pressed, his voice low, his eyes searching her face for any hint of truth.

Ami glanced at him, her lips curling into a smirk. “You’ll see soon enough,” she replied, her tone teasing but evasive, as she pulled up a file on the screen—a fragment of data about a remote island in the western ocean.

The air grew colder, a chill running down Jack’s spine. His instincts screamed danger, his gaze darting to the broken windows, the shadows beyond. “Something’s not right,” he said, his voice low, his hand tightening on his sword.

Ami rolled her eyes, her smirk faltering for a moment. “You’re paranoid,” she said, but there was a flicker of doubt in her expression as she glanced toward the windows, the mist outside swirling like a living thing.


Outside the derelict building, on a ridge overlooking the forest, a figure stood in the dewy mist.

High Priestess Azumi, her tall frame a dark silhouette against the gray sky. Her naginata trident gleamed faintly in the dim light, its tri-bladed form sharp and menacing, a perfect extension of her will. Her blood-red eyes glinted with malice as she watched the hub, her long wavy locks shifting in the ocean breeze, the mist swirling around her like a shroud. She was far enough to remain unseen, but close enough that her presence felt like a weight on the air.

“Hm,” she murmured to herself, her voice a soft, chilling whisper, her lips curling into a soft smirk.

Her grip tightened on her naginata, but she didn’t move, her posture calm, calculated. “No impulsive moves here,” she said, her tone measured, almost reverent.

“Lord Aku commanded me…”

Her blood-red eyes narrowed, the smirk lingering as the mist danced around her.

“…to adhere to the current rules of the new world.”

The trees rustled with apprehension as she disappeared into the forest, her presence a promise of danger yet to come.


Inside the hub, Jack’s gaze lingered on the windows, his instincts screaming that they were being watched, but he saw nothing—only the mist, thick and unyielding. Ami noticed his tension, her usual conceited demeanour rearing it’s ugly head once again.

“You’re just seeing things,” she lazily drawled, but her voice lacked its usual confidence, her eyes flicking to the shadows.

Jack and Ami took refuge in an alley near the forest’s edge, the data hub a fading silhouette in the mist behind them. They were battered—not from a fight, but from the tension, the weight of the unknown pressing down on them. Ami sat against the wall, a cracked datapad in her hands, her eyes gleaming as she pulled up the data she’d extracted—a partial decode of the coordinates and a fragment about the “sapphire-eyed’s” experiments.

“Ari’s out there… on an island in the western ocean,” she said, her voice laced with anticipation as she traced the coordinates on the screen. But the data mentioned something else—“unnatural storms… endless… a barrier of chaos.” Something was wrong, and Ami’s grin widened at the challenge.

She whispered to herself, her eyes glinting with malice, “Ohhh… how devilishly amusing Ari. You really think you can hide from me?”

Jack stood nearby, his katana sheathed but his grip tight, his expression heavy with doubt. “We need to stop her… before Aku does,” he said, his voice firm but strained, the weight of their mistrust and the looming danger pressing down on him.

He didn’t trust Ami, not even close, but he had no choice. They were in this together, for now, as the mist closed in around them, as if fate had willed a veil of opacity around them




The jungle path opened onto a rocky beach, the ocean stretching out before them, its waves crashing against the shore with a relentless rhythm. The sky above was gray, heavy with the promise of rain, the air thick with the scent of salt and seaweed. Jack and Ami stepped onto the sand, their boots sinking slightly into the damp ground, when a strange sound caught their attention—a skittering, clicking noise, like claws on stone.

Jack’s hand flew to his katana, his senses on high alert. “What is that?” he muttered, his sharp eyes scanning the beach.

Ami’s smirk faded, her lip dropping immediately as she pocketed the datapad. “Trouble,” she replied, her tone a mix of annoyance and excitement.

From the shadows of the rocks, a group of sentient mutant crustaceans emerged. Lobsters, crabs, and hermit crabs, their shells glowing with a strange, dark blue sapphire power, a shimmering aura that pulsed with an unnatural energy. Their forms were grotesque, their claws oversized and jagged, their eyes glowing with the same sapphire light. There were at least a dozen of them, ranging from massive lobsters the size of wolves to smaller, juvenile crabs that skittered with alarming speed. The aura around them crackled, as if someone had created them to harness that power specifically.

The largest lobster lunged first, its claws snapping with a force that could crush bone. Jack drew his katana in a flash, his movements fluid and precise, feinting and parrying as he wove around the beast. His strikes were expertly poised, the blade slicing through the air with a soft hum, cutting through the lobster’s exoskeleton with a sickening crunch. Sapphire-hued blood sprayed across the sand, the creature collapsing with a final, shuddering click.

Ami, meanwhile, fought with a raw, unbridled power that took Jack by surprise. She charged into the fray with a feral grin, her movements a blur of taekwondo-style kicks. She leaped into the air, her leg snapping down with devastating force, headstomping a massive crab and splitting its exoskeleton open with a crack that echoed across the beach. Sapphire blood splattered across her boots, but she didn’t flinch—she laughed, her pink eyes glowing with a power that seemed to radiate from within her, a faint pink aura shimmering around her as she moved.

Jack parried a strike from a hermit crab, his katana flashing as he dispatched the creature with a single, clean cut, but his eyes kept darting to Ami.

“How…?” he thought, his mind racing.

“How had the first daughter of Aku I’d killed.. become… so powerful?”

Her raw melee prowess was staggering, each kick, each strike, carried a force that seemed almost supernatural, her movements a dance of destruction as she crushed another crab underfoot, her laughter ringing out over the sound of the waves.

A rogue hermit crab, smaller but faster, darted toward Ami, its claws snapping at her legs. She slipped on the wet sand, her balance faltering for a moment, and Jack’s eyes widened as he parried his own opponent, a massive, hulking lobster. In that split second, Ami’s hand moved to her side, and a short sword materialized in her grip, a glowing pink blade, its shape reminiscent of an o-wakizashi, its surface shimmering with the same aura that surrounded her. She stabbed the hermit crab in the face with a swift, brutal thrust, the blade piercing through its glowing sapphire eyes, sapphire blood spraying as the creature collapsed.

Ami wasn’t done. She reached into her pocket, pulling out a handful of small, kunai-shaped blades, their edges glinting with a faint, slightly luminous glow. With a flick of her wrist, she threw them, the kunai impaling two smaller juvenile crabs in the face, their bodies crumpling to the sand with a soft thud. She grinned coolly, her eyes glowing brighter, her aura pulsing with a power that sent a chill down Jack’s spine.

Jack dispatched the last of the crustaceans, his katana slicing through a final lobster with a clean, decisive strike. The beach fell silent, save for the sound of the waves and the faint crackle of the mutant exoskeletons crumbling to heaps on the sand, their sapphire glow fading into nothingness. He sheathed his katana, his chest heaving, but his eyes were locked on Ami, who stood amidst the carnage, her short sword still in hand, her grin wide and unhinged as she cackled, the sound echoing across the beach.

Jack couldn’t help but feel conflicted. On one hand, he admired her prowess—her raw power, her precision, her sheer joy in the fight. But on the other hand, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was truly off about her. The glowing aura, the short sword, the kunai, the raw strength...—where had this power come from? And what else was she hiding, what else did she have planned? The daughter of Aku he’d known had been formidable, but this… this was something else entirely.


Ami’s smirk widened, but she didn’t answer directly. “A girl’s got to have her secrets,” she replied, her tone playful but evasive, as she turned toward the ocean, her gaze distant.

“Let’s just say I’ve had a lot of time to…”

She halted, the abrupt stillness amplifying the tension in the air. In the tension of that pause, her gaze dropped to the dying crustacean, its chitinous form twitching weakly, as if begging for mercy.
.
“....improve myself since the last time we met.”

With a deliberate, almost casual motion, she placed the sole of her ballerina flat upon the crab's outstretched claw. The delicate, yet resilient, exoskeleton surrendered beneath the pressure, fracturing with a resounding, bone-jarring "crunch" that echoed through the tense silence, a stark and brutal punctuation to her unspoken words. Fragments of shattered carapace scattered across the ground, a grim testament to her power and a chilling foreshadowing of her intent.

Jack’s jaw tightened, his unease growing.
There it was again. Another mention of the timeline he’d erased when he’d put Aku into the ground.

He momentarily stopped to collect his senses, clutching the sides of his gi, the memory of killing her in the erased timeline flashing through his mind. her body falling, her blood on his blade, the first of Aku’s daughters to die by his hand.

He shook his head, pushing the memory away.

“Your… resolve in battle… is highly respectable. ” he complimented through heaved, strained breaths, his voice heavy with suspicion.

Ami glanced at him over her shoulder, her smirk turning cold. “Heh…Much appreciated, dear samurai” she said, her tone carrying a hint of mocking menace.

Jack offered no reply, his attention drawn to the vast, undulating expanse of the ocean, where the horizon blurred into a hazy, distant line. The coordinates pointed to a hidden island, a place veiled in unnatural, tempestuous storms.
And those mutant crustaceans, their chitinous forms radiating an unsettling sapphire aura, hinted at something deeply amiss, a mystery submerged in their eerie, glowing light. Yet, as his gaze drifted to Ami's entire form, now imbued with a strange, incandescent power, glinting like polished gemstones in the fading light, a chilling premonition settled upon him. He couldn’t dispel the unnerving suspicion that the most immediate and potent danger wasn't lurking amidst the stormy seas or the mutated creatures, but rather, stood deceptively close, a vibrant enigma beside him.

Chapter 15: CXV

Chapter Text

 

The smuggler’s port, northeast of the city buzzed with chaotic energy, a ramshackle settlement nestled in a cove, its docks lined with rusted ships and weathered tents. Jack and Ami navigated the crowd, their steps purposeful, the air thick with the scent of salt and engine oil. Jack’s sharp eyes scanned the port, his hand resting on his katana, his posture tense as he noted Aku’s enforcers patrolling the docks, dog-men and humans in crimson uniforms, their presence a reminder of the empire’s reach.

Ami led the way to a battered vessel at the edge of the port—the Stormchaser , its hull patched in a dozen places, its name barely legible. A burly elephant humanoid stood on the deck, his trunk twitching as he eyed them suspiciously, one tusk chipped, his gray skin weathered by years at sea. His small ears flapped as he crossed his massive arms, his beady eyes narrowing as he stepped down to meet them, his heavy footsteps thudding on the dock.

“Names?” Kael grunted, his voice deep and rumbling, his trunk snorting as he sized them up, his chipped tusk gleaming in the dim light of the port’s lanterns.

Ami sighed dramatically, her entire face reeking of amusement as she reached into her jacket, pulling out a fake ID with a flourish. “Haaaaa…” she drawled, her tone teasing as she handed it over, her smirk widening. The ID read “Ah-mi Park,” a persona she’d crafted with, complete with a forged photo of her winking, her dark, silky hair styled in a sleek bob, and Aku’s crimson stamp of approval embossed on the corner.

Kael’s trunk twitched as he examined the ID, his beady eyes flicking between the card and Ami’s face, his expression unreadable. He grunted, then turned to Jack, his massive frame looming over the samurai. “You?” he rumbled, his tone gruff, his small ears flapping impatiently.

Jack hesitated, his sharp features tensing as he fumbled in his gi’s obi, pulling out a fake ID that Ami had slipped him earlier. He glanced at the card, his sharp eyes widening, a flush creeping up his neck as he read the name. His face betrayed a mix of shock and fluster, his stoic demeanor cracking for a moment. A glance at the way Ami’s lips twitched told him it wasn’t anything flattering.

Kael’s beady eyes narrowed, his trunk snorting with impatience. “Name, now,” he growled, his voice low and threatening, his massive hand resting on the hilt of a rusted machete at his side. “Or else both of you are not boarding.”

Jack swallowed hard, his sharp eyes flicking to Ami, who stood there with a snicker on her face, her pink eyes gleaming with mischief. He looked at Kael, then back at the card, his voice hesitant as he read the name aloud.

“Ah… Gae… Saekki,” he said, his tone uncertain, his sharp features flushing deeper as he stumbled over the words. He didn’t know what it meant—this language wasn’t his forte. The way Ami’s snicker turned into a barely-suppressed laugh told him it was likely an insult, a jab she’d crafted to keep him off balance. If it had been in my native tongue, I’d have known immediately, he thought, his jaw tightening, his suspicion of Ami deepening. She’s toying with me… again.

Kael raised an eyebrow, his trunk twitching as he took the ID, his beady eyes scanning it with suspicion. The card looked legit—complete with Aku’s crimson stamp, a forged photo of Jack in the warehouse from earlier, looking stoic (though slightly pixelated), and the name “Gae Saekki” printed in bold.

“Seems… legit,” Kael grunted, his tone gruff but satisfied, his small ears flapping as he handed the ID back. “Has Lord Aku’s stamp on it and everything. Come, you’re cleared to go.”

Ami’s snicker broke into a full grin, her eyes glinting with amusement as she elbowed Jack, her tone teasing. “Nice one, Gae Saekki ,” she whispered, her voice dripping with mockery as she stepped onto the Stormchaser , her flats thudding on the deck.

Jack’s jaw tightened further, his sharp features set in a mix of embarrassment and irritation as he followed her, his sharp eyes shooting her a glare. “What does that mean?” he muttered under his breath, his voice low, his hand gripping his katana a little tighter, his mind racing with suspicion. She picked another language for a reason… she knew I wouldn’t understand.

Ami just smirked as she leaned against the railing, her tone evasive. “You’ll figure it out, Samurai,” she replied, her grin widening as she turned to face the ocean, the ship rumbling to life beneath them.

Kael took the helm, his massive frame hunched over the controls, his trunk twitching as he muttered to himself about the weather. The Stormchaser pulled away from the port, the cove fading into the distance as they sailed into the open ocean, the horizon stretching out before them—a vast expanse of gray under a cloudy sky, the faint rumble of storms in the distance

 




The Stormchaser cut through the waves, its engines rumbling steadily as the mainland faded from view. The ocean was calm.

Too calm.

A dull gray, the sky above was, the air cool and salty. Jack stood at the bow, his gi fluttering in the breeze, his sharp eyes scanning the horizon, his katana at his side. Small atolls and scattered islands dotted the sea, some with tiny huts or villages, clusters of thatched roofs and fishing boats. From a distance, Jack could observe that the little islands were indeed bustling with organic life– some of the inhabitants were watching the ship pass with wary curiosity, some were doing some rituals, dancing around wooden idols of which origin was unfamiliar to Jack, some weaving little trinkets from leaves, some trawling fish and other sea fauna from the shallow waters around their islands.

Jack smiled softly. It had been a long time since he’d seen… the inhabitants of this new timeline seemingly happy, genuinely content, even in the shadow of the rule of a demon that most certainly saw them as dispensible. He sighed, remembering how at one point, he envisioned being just like them: simple creatures, living life to the fullest, not caring about who or what mocked, jeered or judged them. Just being.


At the bow, Kael manned the helm, his massive frame hunched over the controls, his trunk twitching as he muttered to himself about the weather. “Too quiet out here,” he rumbled, his beady eyes narrowing as he glanced at the horizon. “Storms should’ve hit by now… something’s off.”

Ami lounged against the railing, her posture languid, as if informing the uncaring world of her boredom. She twirled a spectral kunai in her hand, the pink blade catching the dim light. “Relax, big guy,” she said, her tone teasing, her smirk faint. “We’ve got a whole day before we reach the island. Might as well enjoy the view.”

Jack’s sharp features remained tense, his sharp eyes flicking to the water, his instincts screaming that something was wrong. “It’s too calm,” he muttered, his voice low, his grip tightening on his katana. “A storm like this… it doesn’t just wait.”

The day stretched on, the Stormchaser passing more atolls—tiny specks of land in the vast ocean, their shores lined with palm trees and driftwood. The silence was oppressive, the calm a prelude to chaos, and Jack’s unease grew with every passing hour.

 



As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the sea in shades of orange and gray, a ripple broke the surface of the water—a subtle disturbance that sent a chill down Jack’s spine. His sharp eyes widened, his hand flying to his katana as he scanned the waves. “Something’s coming,” he said, his voice low, his sharp features set in a grim expression.

Ami stood, her smirk fading, her slender brows furrowing she followed his gaze. “Oh no. Tch. Trouble again,” she muttered, her tone a mix of annoyance and anticipation, her kunai gripped tightly in her hand.

Kael’s trunk twitched, his beady eyes widening as he saw the shapes moving beneath the water—seven or eight leopard seal-like creatures, their sleek bodies glowing with a sapphire aura, their eyes blazing with an unnatural hunger.
“Bloodthirsty bastards!” he roared, his voice trembling with fear, his massive hands gripping the helm. “I can’t sail through here… they’re all blocking the way!”

The seals swarmed around the Stormchaser , their sapphire glow illuminating the darkening sea, their jagged teeth snapping as they bumped the hull with bone-jarring force. The ship rocked violently, the wood creaking under the assault, and Kael tried to power through, his trunk flailing as he pushed the engines to their limit.
“Hold on!” he bellowed, his voice strained.

But the seals were relentless—one leaped onto the deck, its sapphire aura pulsing, its clawed flippers raking across the wood as it lunged at Kael. The elephant humanoid roared in pain, a terrible bite sinking into his thick leg, blood pouring from the wound as he stumbled, his massive frame crashing to the deck as another seal sunk it’s fangs into his body, causing him to wince in agony as it tore scraps of clothing and skin off the side of his body.

“Get… get them off!” he gasped, his trunk flailing, his beady eyes wide with panic as another seal snapped at his side, tearing into his flesh. Crimson pooled underneath him as the seals continued their torrential assault, flailing all over him, crushing him under the weight of their punishing attacks.

“C-captain Kael!”

Jack drew his katana in a flash, his movements efficient, fluid and precise as he slashed at the seal attacking Kael, the blade slicing through its glowing hide with a spray of sapphire blood. The creature collapsed, but more seals swarmed the deck, their ocean-blue eyes glowing with a bloodthirsty rage.

Ami moved in a blur, her aura instantly scintillating with a deranged intensity as she leapt into the fray.

“Let’s see how well you dance, you fat, lazy fuckers.”


She threw her head back and guffawed, her tone unhinged, her grin maniacal as she spun around on her left foot and with a crushingly devastating blow to it’s muzzle, kicked a seal off the deck with a bone-crunching thud, sending it flying into the ocean.

Jack parried a seal’s lunge, his katana flashing as he dispatched the creature, but his sharp eyes widened as he saw Kael’s condition—blood pooling beneath the elephant humanoid, his breathing shallow, his beady eyes dimming. “No.. no! DON’T…!!” he shouted, his voice urgent, his sharp features set in a desperate expression.

Kael’s trunk twitched weakly, his voice a ragged whisper. “Keep… going… don’t stop…” he croaked, his massive frame shuddering as he succumbed to his wounds, his blood staining the deck.

Ami, meanwhile, was a whirlwind of destruction—her reflexes deft, her aura glowing brighter as she grabbed a rescue flare from a nearby crate, her grin widening.

“Samurai, move!” she shouted, glee oozing from her maniacal tone as she launched the flare at two seals that had hopped aboard, the explosion lighting up the deck in a burst of fiery red.

Jack’s eyes widened, his sharp features tensing as he dove to the side, the heat of the explosion scorching his gi.

“Ami…!” he gasped, his voice strained, his sharp eyes watering as he coughed, the acrid smoke burning his lungs.

Ami didn’t flinch.

She leapt forward, her grin unhinged as she dropkicked both wounded seals, her ballerina flats slamming into their glowing hides with a sickening crunch. She stomped on their faces, blood splattering across the deck, their sapphire glow fading as they went limp, lifeless.

Jack dispatched another seal, his katana slicing through its blubberous neck with the sleekness of a butter knife, but his sharp eyes were immediately drawn again to Ami, her unhinged brutality, her sheer joy in the carnage. She grabbed another seal by its tail, throwing it into the air with a feral scream, then kicked it with devastating force, sending it soaring into the depths of the ocean, never to be seen again.






Jack and Ami stood back-to-back, their chests heaving, the ocean roaring around them as the storm raged closer. Only two seals remained, their sapphire eyes blazing with unnatural hunger, their jagged teeth snapping as they circled the rickety boat, the wood creaking under the strain.

Jack’s sharp eyes caught a flicker of movement at his six o’clock.

a seal lunging from the shadows, its glowing maw aimed for his legs.

His instincts kicked in, honed by decades of battle, his reaction was inhumanly fast. In a single, fluid motion, he swung his katana horizontally, the blade slicing through the air with a soft hum, cutting through the seal’s thick, mutated hide like a stick of butter. Sapphire blood sprayed across the deck, the creature’s bisected body collapsing with a wet thud, its glow snuffed out in an instant. Jack’s gi fluttered in the wind, his sharp features set in a grim expression, his katana dripping with blood as he turned to face the final threat.

At the other end of the boat, the last seal let out a guttural roar, its sapphire aura pulsing as it leaped into the air, intent on murdering Ami. She reacted with a feral grin. In a blur of motion, she backflipped, her body arcing gracefully through the air in a single somersault, landing on her feet with the precision of a dancer. The seal crashed onto the Stormchaser ’s deck where she’d stood, its massive weight splintering the wood, the boat rocking violently as it nearly sank under the impact, water sloshing over the sides.

Ami didn’t hesitate—she raced forward, leaping into the air, her ballerina flats aimed squarely at the pinniped's muzzle with deadly intent. She came down hard, her headstomp slamming into the seal’s skull with a bone-jarring crunch that echoed over the storm. The creature’s head caved in, sapphire blood and brain matter splattering across the deck, its body twitching once before going limp, its glow fading into nothingness. The Stormchaser groaned, the deck tilting dangerously, but held—just barely.

Ami landed in a crouch, her grin unhinged as she wiped blood from her cheek, her aura still pulsing faintly. “That’s the last of ‘em,” she said, her tone teasing, her gaze flicking to Jack with a mix of amusement and challenge. “Told you I could handle it, Samurai.”

Jack sheathed his katana, his chest heaving, his sharp features pale as he surveyed the carnage, the blood-soaked deck, the splintered wood, the lifeless seals. The boat rocked beneath them, the storm closing in, and the weight of their journey pressed down on him, a storm of uncertainty brewing on the horizon as they sailed toward Ari’s island.

 



The deck of the Stormchaser was a mess, blood, both sapphire and red, stained the wood, the bodies of the seals scattered around them, their sapphire glow fading into nothingness. Jack and Ami stood amidst the carnage, panting, their chests heaving, the ocean stretching out around them in an eerie silence.

Ami grinned, licking her lips, her aura still pulsing faintly as she wiped blood from her cheek. “Not bad,” she said, her tone teasing, her gaze flicking to Jack with a mix of amusement and challenge. “You’re still standing, Samurai.”

Jack was exhausted—his gi torn, his hands raw, his sharp features pale as he sheathed his katana, his sharp eyes haunted. He’d gone through too much. 50 years in the erased timeline, fighting Aku’s forces, losing everything and everyone he loved… finally getting to go back to the past, only to lose the very woman he loved.

He looked at the seals, their lifeless bodies, and a pang of guilt twisted in his chest.
“Something… something was off about them,” he muttered, his voice low, his sharp eyes narrowing as he studied their fading sapphire glow. “I sense that they were… forced to be here. Against their will.”

Ami scoffed, her grin widening as she kicked another seal’s body into the ocean, her tone dismissive. “Does it matter?” she said, her voice sharp, her pink eyes glinting with malice.

“They’re dead now. We’re not.”

Jack’s jaw tightened, his unease growing, his sharp eyes flicking to Kael’s body—the elephant humanoid’s massive frame still, his blood pooling beneath him, his beady eyes staring blankly at the sky.

“He didn’t deserve this,” Jack said, his voice heavy with guilt, his sharp features set in a troubled expression.

Ami shrugged, her smirk returning as she moved to the helm, rifling through Kael’s notes and charts, her pink eyes scanning the maps with a calculating intensity.

“Huh… as long as we have enough fuel on this small rickety wreck…” she muttered, her tone matter-of-fact, letting out a disinterested "pfft" as she took the helm. “I should be able to drive this thing on my own there…”

Jack watched her, his chiseled features set in a grim expression, his eyes searching hers for any sign of remorse—but there was none. Ami was a storm of her own, a force of chaos he couldn’t control, and as the Stormchaser sailed on toward the sapphire-eyed devil’s island, the weight of their journey pressed down on him, a tornado of trepidation looming over the horizon, just like the one consuming the very weight of his soul and memories inside his mind’s eye. 

Chapter 16: CXVI

Chapter Text

The Stormchaser groaned as it sped away from the scene of the carnage, its engines rumbling against the churning sea, the horizon darkening with the promise of chaos. Jack knelt on the blood-soaked deck, his gi torn and stained with sapphire and ruby, his sharp features pale as he cradled Kael’s massive body. The elephant humanoid’s gray skin was cold, his chipped tusk glinting faintly in the dim light, his beady eyes staring blankly at the gray sky. Blood pooled beneath him, his mutilated leg and obliterated torso a grisly testament to the leopard seal attack that had claimed his life. Jack’s chest heaved, his hands trembling slightly as he held the captain, guilt twisting in his gut like a blade.

Ami stood at the helm, her irises glinting with a manic intensity as she punched the coordinates into the ship’s console, her fingers flying over the cracked screen. The GPS beeped, locking onto the nameless island, and she pushed the throttle forward, the Stormchaser lurching as it sped toward the storms in the distance. Raging squalls loomed on the horizon, lightning flashing in jagged arcs, the grayness of the clouds turning brackish at their edges, debris swirling in the wind like a harbinger of destruction. Ami’s bobbed dark hair whipped in the breeze, her muted pink jacket flapping as she steered with a casual recklessness, her grin wide and unhinged.

Jack’s voice broke the silence, low and strained, his sharp eyes fixed on Kael’s still form. “Ami… we should find a place to bury him,” he said, his tone heavy with resolve, his gaze hardening as he looked up at her. "Perhaps... on one of these atolls." 

He paused, lowering his gaze amidst the silence, only occasionally broken by the sparse pitter-pattering of stray raindrops hitting any exposed boat surface.

“He deserves a proper place to rest.”

Ami scoffed, her pink eyes rolling as she glanced over her shoulder, her tone dripping with annoyance.

“The fuck? Just throw him overboard,” she snapped, her smirk faltering for a moment as she saw the determination in Jack’s expression.

“He’s dead, Samurai. What’s the point?”

Jack’s jaw tightened, his resolve toughening, his sharp features set in a steely expression. “No,” he said firmly, his voice unwavering despite his exhaustion.

“We need to respect the dead. In his case, that means giving him a proper burial. It’s the least we can do.”

Ami let out an exaggerated groan, her hands slamming against the helm as she tilted her head back dramatically. “Fuuuuuuck. Okay,” she muttered, her tone laced with irritation, her pink eyes narrowing as she turned back to the console.

“You and your stupid honour. Fine, let’s find a damn atoll or something. But you’re doing the digging, Samurai.”

The Stormchaser cut through the waves, the storms growing closer, the air thick with the scent of salt and ozone. Lightning illuminated the brackish clouds, casting eerie shadows across the deck as debris—a broken plank, a shredded sail, a crumbling conch whirled past in the wind.

After another hour of sailing, a small, unnamed atoll came into view—a speck of land in the vast ocean, its shores lined with a smattering of palm trees, their fronds swaying violently in the squall. A run-down pier jutted from the beach, its wooden planks weathered and splintered, barely holding together.

Ami steered the boat with a casual flick of her wrist as she eased the power on the throttles, the Stormchaser scraping against the pier with a groan as it came to a stop. She stepped off the ship, her flats thudding on the creaking wood, her hands shoved into the pockets of her muted pink jacket. Her bob waved in the wind, her back turned to Jack as she scoffed, her tone sharp and impatient. “Be quick, Samurai,” she said, her voice carrying over the howling wind, her pink eyes scanning the stormy horizon with a mix of boredom and anticipation.

Jack stumbled off the ship, Kael’s massive body slung over his shoulder, the elephant humanoid’s weight nearly buckling his knees. His gi was soaked with sweat and blood, his sharp features pale as he shuffled away from the pier, his eyes scanning the beach for a suitable spot. He found a small clearing under a cluster of coconut trees, their fronds rattling in the wind, the sand beneath them soft and damp from the encroaching storm. Setting Kael’s body down gently, Jack picked up a weathered plank nearby, its end shaped like a crude shovel, and began to dig, his movements steady but strained, the sand piling up beside him.

Ami leaned against a palm tree near the pier, her pink eyes glinting with annoyance as she watched Jack work. “Tch. Waste of my time,” she muttered absentmindedly, her fingers tracing the edge of a sharp stone she’d found on the beach.

She picked up a fallen coconut, its husk cracked, and used the stone to pierce it open, the milky liquid inside sloshing as she brought it to her lips.

“Eh. couldn’t hurt.” She shrugged, as she brought the husked fruit to her lips.

“ERGH!” Ami found her face involuntarily contorting in disgust as she nearly vomited, her eyes watering as she spat the liquid onto the sand. “BLEGH!!!!” she gagged, her voice a mix of revulsion and amusement as she stared at the coconut, the gross liquid dripping from its edge. “Fuck… if I drink more of that, my intestines will explode!”

She chortled maniacally, the sound echoing over the beach, her irises glinting with a deranged glee as she glanced at Jack, who was now shoveling sand back over Kael’s body, the elephant man’s form disappearing beneath the soaked earth.
Ami held up the coconut, inspecting it with a twisted grin, her tone playful but unhinged. “Well… lucky I have loperamide,” she said, feeling a packet of capsules in her pant pocket, her voice dripping with dark humour as she tossed the coconut aside, the liquid splattering on the sand. “If I didn’t, my ass would be on fire for the whole day!!”

Jack finished burying Kael, his hands raw from the digging, his sharp features set in a somber expression as he stood over the makeshift grave. The storm was closer now, the lightning flashing brighter, the brackish clouds looming overhead like a shroud. He placed the plank upright in the sand, a simple marker for Kael’s resting place, and bowed his head briefly, murmuring a quiet prayer in his native tongue, his voice barely audible over the howling wind.

The weight of the journey pressed down on him, but he straightened, his resolve renewed, his sharp eyes turning toward the Stormchaser and the stormy horizon beyond.

Ami pushed off the palm tree, her smirk returning as she sauntered back to the pier, her hands still in her pockets, her bob whipping in the wind. “You done playing funeral director, Samurai?” she called, her tone teasing but edged with impatience, her pink eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and challenge. “We’ve got a devil to hunt.”

Jack nodded, his jaw freezing up as he stepped onto the pier, his geta thudding against the splintered wood. The Stormchaser rocked against the waves, the storm closing in, and as they boarded the ship, the atoll faded into the grayness behind them, a fleeting moment of reprieve before the chaos that awaited.

 

Jack stepped away from Kael’s grave, his sharp features somber as he brushed the sand from his hands, his gi still stained with blood and sweat. The storm loomed closer, the brackish gray clouds swirling with lightning, the air thick with the scent of ozone and salt as the pace of the drizzle sped up, soaking his clothes even further and matting his long, wild hair. He slowly trudged back to the pier, his geta thudding softly on the splintered wood, where Ami stood with her hands in the pockets of her muted pink jacket, her bob waving in the wind, her pink eyes glinting with impatience as she stared at the horizon.

Before Jack could speak, a strange noise echoed from the island’s interior—a low, rhythmic chanting, punctuated by the clatter of wood and stone, the sound carrying an eerie weight that sent a chill down his spine. The atoll’s dense ring of trees, which Jack had only waded into briefly while burying Kael, now seemed to pulse with an unsettling energy. He froze, his hand instinctively moving to his katana, his sharp eyes darting toward the underbrush. Ami’s smirk faded, her pink eyes narrowing as she tilted her head, listening. For once, both of them felt unsettled, a rare moment of shared unease in their otherwise clashing dynamic.

“Hmm… now I’m interested,” Ami said, her tone a mix of curiosity and mischief, her pink eyes glinting with a dangerous gleam as she turned toward the trees. “Let’s go check it out.”

Jack hesitated, his sharp features tensing as he watched her stride toward the underbrush, her shoes crunching on the sand. Why am I following her along? he thought, his mind racing with suspicion, but his resolve to uncover the source of the noise overrode his doubts. He followed, his katana at the ready, his steps cautious as they pushed through the dense foliage, the drizzling rain soaking his gi, the air heavy with the scent of wet earth and palm fronds.

The underbrush parted to reveal a sacred open-air temple of packed earth and stone, its perimeter marked by carved 6 horned wooden totems, their faces weathered but fierce, glistening in the rain. A small group of tribespeople knelt in the center, their heads bowed in reverence, their simple woven garments soaked through. At the head of the group stood a portly man, his broad frame draped in a cloak of woven flax, his neck adorned with a bluish-green necklace that shimmered with an otherworldly light. The stone, glowing faintly with a translucent hue, seemed to deflect the rain, not a single drop landing on the man’s body as he stood, arms raised, his voice booming over the storm.

The samurai's eyes widened as he crouched behind the cloak of foliage that shielded them from the tribespeople's view. Squinting his eyes, angling his broad, stocky neck to take a better glimpse of what ungodly ritual they were doing, he deduced that the jade around his neck was likely something like a pounamu, a jade he'd occasionally encountered in his travels in the erased timeline, a type which wandering traders and merchants looking to trade and barter would often brand as a "gem of the tides", and now, seeing how this coveted, special gem being used for nefarious purposes, in this manner, filled him with a sense of unease, thunderous gales swirling in his minds, disturbing the tranquility and inner peace he had so bitterly thought he'd achieved when he'd defeated Aku in the past. 

It was just wrong. 

At least in the erased timeline, there were many pockets of rebels, oases of society where Aku's oppressive rule never managed to imbue themselves into his mind. 

But in this timeline... he was making things actively better. For the marginalised. For the downtrodden. For those who thought they'd never have a chance to take matters into their own hands. 

“Hail Lord Aku… for his benevolence has graced us with an artifact to help us repel the environment’s wrath, to protect us from the squalls that terrorize this region!” the leader declared, his voice reverent, his dark eyes gleaming with fervor as he clutched the pounamu necklace. “I wield this great power now, and in exchange, from this day forth, we all should…”

The portly tribe leader sauntered over to the praying men and women, a soft yet perverse smile spreading across his visage, his tone lowering to a chilling whisper.

“…should show our gratitude to Lord Aku… by repaying him with our unwavering devotion.”

Jack’s eyes widened in horror, his grip tightening on his katana, his sharp features paling as he crouched in the shrubbery beside Ami, the rain dripping from his gi. “Heh… benevolence, so they think,” she muttered, her tone laced with dark amusement, her pink eyes glinting as she watched the scene unfold, her expression more bored than alarmed.

“We’ve got to stop them now…!” Jack whispered urgently, his voice low but firm, his sharp eyes burning with determination as he prepared to stand, his hand on his sword.

The crafty cambion fired back, her tone sharp as she grabbed his arm, pulling him back down into the shrubbery.

“So do you really want to fight these guys, or do you want to try spinning a little white lie instead?” she said, her lips curling into an ominous grin, her pink eyes glinting with a mix of mischief and exhaustion.

Jack paused, his whole body heaving as a wave of resignation slowly started lapping away at his remaining resolve to brazenly confront the tribespeople, clearly so unshaken in their faith to Aku. 

"...I think we should, Ami. It's only right that we should try and persuade them to see the light, and turn them away from the evil that is Aku. 

Ami exhaled, the sound a combination of annoyance, frustration, and yet, a little bit of reluctant understanding. 

“Ah… fucking hell, this byeongsin...” she muttered under her breath, her voice barely audible as she fanned the collar of her black tank top, seeking relief from the heat her skin was producing with the rising tension of the situation.

Jack glared at her menacingly, his sharp features set in a steely-eyed expression, his voice low and edged with frustration. “They mentioned Aku’s name—the ultimate evil. He must be stopped at all costs, whatever they’re doing…!”

Ami stifled a yawn, her pink eyes half-lidded as she leaned back in her position in the underbrush, her tone dripping with apathy. “I’m not in the mood to fuck people up right now, especially after those seals from earlier. I’m bushed,” she said, her voice flat, her gaze flicking lazily to the altar where the ocean tribespeople were praying. 

Jack’s glare intensified, his sharp eyes boring into hers, his voice reluctant, defiant, yet somehow realising that the crafty Daughter of Aku in front of him had other plans, other methods to reach their goals that he hadn't been aware of

“So… how do you plan to… free them of Aku’s influence?”

Ami’s smirk returned, her pink eyes glinting with a calculating intensity as she nodded toward the leader. “Look at the crystal around the leader’s neck,” she said, her tone matter-of-fact, her gaze sharpening as she studied the necklace.

Jack followed her gaze, his sharp eyes narrowing as he observed the bluish-green stone, its surface shimmering with an unnatural light, deflecting the rain in a perfect sphere around the leader. The stone’s hue reminded him of various īnanga pounamu he’d once seen in his travels in the erased future—pearly and translucent, prized by ocean-faring tribes for its beauty and strength.

But this… stone was different, its power clearly tied to Aku’s corruption, a mockery of the sacred traditions it could have represented had it not been for the mention of Aku’s perceived benevolence.

Before Jack could respond, a bolt of lightning tore through the sky, striking the leader directly, the flash illuminating the altar in a blinding white light. Jack’s eyes widened in horror, his breath catching as he braced for the worst—expecting the leader to collapse, electrocuted, his body charred. 

"Wow." snickered Ami, propping up her left leg on a rock in the bushes. 


The samurai's jaw just about swung open with disbelief as he processed what had just happened in front of his eyes.
The portly tribesleader stood unharmed, not a burn mark on him, his body glowing faintly with the same bluish-green light as the pounamu necklace.

The tribespeople gasped, their chants growing louder, their devotion deepening as they bowed lower, their voices a fervent chorus.

Ami watched with a bored look on her face, her pink eyes half-lidded as she picked at her nails, her tone flat. “Well, that’s new,” she muttered, her smirk faint but unamused.

The leader, unfazed by the lightning, continued, his voice rising with a fanatical zeal as he spread his arms wide, the pounamu necklace pulsing with light.
“I, Lesser Chief Whetu, will forsake my role as your leader and ultimately, when Te Ariki Nui, the Bringer of Benevolence himself, Aku, comes back…”

He paused, his grin widening, a twisted gleam in his dark eyes as he looked at his followers. The tribespeople’s eyebrows began to glow with blue flames, a testament to their devotion to Aku, the fire flickering in the rain without burning their skin, an eerie symbol of their corrupted faith.

“…Prosperity will befall us once again.”

Jack’s horror deepened, his sharp features paling as he gripped his katana tighter, his mind racing with the implications. Aku’s influence had reached even this remote atoll, twisting sacred traditions and artifacts like the pounamu into tools of corruption. He turned to Ami, his voice urgent, his sharp eyes burning with resolve.

“We can’t let this continue,” he said, his tone low but firm, his body tensing as he prepared to act.

 

Ami sighed, her pink eyes rolling as she pushed off the tree she’d been leaning against, her tone laced with exasperation but a glint of mischief in her gaze.

“Fine, Samurai,” she said, her smirk widening into something ominous, her voice dripping with dark amusement.

“But if we’re doing this, we’re doing it my way.”

She straightened, brushing the rain from her muted pink jacket, her bobbed hair clinging to her face as she stepped out of the shrubbery, her steps crunching on the wet earth.

Jack’s eyes widened in alarm, his sharp features tensing as he hissed, “Ami, what are you—?” But she was already moving, her posture shifting into one of calculated confidence, her pink eyes glinting with a dangerous charisma as she strode into the marae, the rain soaking her jacket but doing nothing to dim her presence.


The tribespeople gasped, their chants faltering as they looked up, their glowing blue flames flickering in the rain. Chief Whetu turned, his portly frame stiffening, his dark eyes narrowing as he clutched the pounamu necklace, its bluish-green light pulsing faintly.

“Who dares interrupt our devotion to Lord Aku?” he demanded, his voice booming over the storm, his perverse smile faltering into a scowl.

Ami raised a hand, her smirk never wavering, her tone smooth and authoritative, laced with just the right amount of menace to make people's skin crawl, but also not to stir up too much hostility and suspicion with this new tribe the duo were trying to woo. 


“I am an envoy of Lord Aku,” she declared, her pink eyes locking onto Whetu’s, her voice carrying a weight that made the tribespeople shrink back.

“Your lord has sent me to, well let’s just say, assess your… loyalty.”

She let the word hang in the air, her gaze sweeping over the group with a predatory intensity, her pink aura flaring subtly, a faint shimmer that added to her commanding presence.

Jack, still crouched in the shrubbery, felt his stomach twist, his sharp features paling further as horror washed over him. She’s using Aku’s name… to deceive them? he thought, his mind reeling, his grip on his katana tightening until his knuckles turned white.

The very idea of pretending to serve Aku. The ultimate evil he’d dedicated his life to destroying.
It was anathema to him, a betrayal of everything he stood for.

As he watched the tribespeople’s reactions, he realized he had no choice.

He couldn’t fight an entire cult alone—at least, a burning desire in his body to not kill indiscriminately was telling him not to.. He bit the sides of his cheek, trying to contain the horror that was so blatantly unfurling on his normally stoic features, his sharp eyes burning with conflict as he forced himself to stand and step out of the bushes,

He tried to relax his posture, reducing the tension as he played along with Ami's facade, his silence a grudging assent.

Chief Whetu’s scowl faded, his dark eyes widening with a mix of fear and reverence as he studied Ami, the pounamu necklace glowing brighter in his grasp. “An… envoy of Lord Aku?” he repeated, his voice trembling slightly, his perverse smile returning as he bowed his head, the rain still deflecting around him. “We are honored by your presence, great envoy. I am Lesser Chief Whetu, humble servant of Te Ariki Nui, the Bringer of Benevolence.” The tribespeople followed suit, bowing lower, their blue flames flickering brighter, their chants resuming with renewed fervor.

Ami’s smirk widened, her pink eyes glinting with amusement as she sauntered closer, her flats squelching in the muddy earth of the marae. “Good,” she said, her tone dripping with false approval, her gaze flicking to the pounamu necklace with a calculating intensity.

“Lord Aku has heard of your devotion… but he demands proof. Tell me, Chief Whetu, how has this artifact—” she gestured to the necklace, her voice lowering to a dangerous purr, “—helped you serve his will?”

Jack stood a few paces behind her, his sharp features set in a mask of barely concealed horror, his sharp eyes darting between Ami and the necklace, his mind racing with conflicting emotions. He hated this—every fiber of his being screamed to draw his katana, to destroy the necklace and free these people from Aku’s influence, to denounce Ami’s lie and fight for what was right. But he couldn’t—not yet.
The odds were against him, and Ami’s deception had bought them a chance to get closer to the necklace, to steal it later and break Aku’s hold over the tribe. He forced himself to remain silent, his hands clenched at his sides, his sharp eyes burning with a mix of anger and shame as he played the role of her silent companion.

Whetu’s smile widened, his dark eyes gleaming with pride as he held up the pounamu necklace, its bluish-green surface shimmering in the rain, its power deflecting the storm around him.

“This sacred stone, a gift from Lord Aku himself, protects us from the squalls that terrorize this region,” he said, his voice reverent, his fingers tracing the stone’s surface. “It has shielded us from lightning, from floods, from the wrath of the environment. In return, we offer our unwavering devotion—our lives, our faith, our very souls to Te Ariki Nui, the Benevolent.”

Ami nodded, her smirk never faltering, her pink eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and calculation as she stepped closer, her gaze locked on the necklace. “Impressive,” she said, her tone laced with false admiration, her fingers twitching slightly as if itching to snatch the stone.

“Lord Aku will be… pleased to hear of your loyalty.”

Whetu hesitated, his dark eyes flickering with suspicion, his grip on the necklace tightening. “Do you want to… confiscate it…?” he repeated, his voice cautious, his perverse smile faltering as he took a step back, the tribespeople murmuring nervously behind him, their blue flames flickering in the rain.

Jack’s sharp eyes narrowed, his body tensing as he sensed the shift in Whetu’s demeanor, his hand inching toward his katana. He didn’t trust Ami’s plan, not fully. Regardless, they were close now, close enough to the necklace that they might be able to steal it later, to break Aku’s hold over the tribe without bloodshed. The storm raged closer, the lightning flashing brighter, the squalls howling as the tension in the marae grew, a powder keg waiting to ignite.

Ami’s smirk widened, her pink eyes glinting with a dangerous intensity as she leaned in, her voice a low, menacing purr. “No, of course not, dear esteemed chief of this quaint little settlement,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument, her pink aura flaring subtly, a faint shimmer that made the tribespeople shrink back.

“Let’s just say… I’m here to formally induct you all here, on this lonely island, into the ‘Followers of Aku’ club.” 




In the heart of Megalopolis E-273, a sprawling city of neon and shadow, Aku’s obsidian skyscraper loomed like a jagged scar against the skyline, its surface etched with glowing runes that pulsed with a faint blue light. Inside, the Shogun of Sorrow sat on his throne—a massive, jagged structure of blackened bone and crimson metal—his demonic form cloaked in a tailored business suit, an absurd contrast to his ancient, malevolent nature. His flaming blue eyebrows crackled softly, casting eerie shadows across the room as he meditated, his fiery eyes closed, his clawed hands resting on the armrests of his throne.

The High Priestess entered the chamber, her black robes trailing behind her, her sharp features set in a mask of cold determination. Her crimson eyes glinted with a mix of reverence and unease as she approached, a high-tech tablet clutched in her hands. “Lord Aku, I bear some… interesting news for you,” she said, her voice steady but edged with caution, her gaze fixed on the demon before her.

Aku grinned, his jagged teeth gleaming as he opened one fiery eye, his tone a low, rumbling purr. “Hm… yes, say it, dear Azumi,” he said, his voice dripping with mock curiosity, his eyebrow crackling softly as he remained in a calm state, his other eye still closed.

Azumi held up the tablet, its screen displaying a grainy photo—presumably taken with a phone and scaled up, showing Jack and Ami rummaging through the abandoned data hub on the coastline of Megalopolis E-273’s outskirts.

“The youngest one… she’s leading the Samurai on,” Azumi said, her tone measured, her crimson eyes narrowing as she studied Aku’s reaction.

Aku’s grin widened, his flaming blue eyebrows crackling with amusement, as he closed it again, his voice a soft chuckle. “Oh? That’s interesting,” he said, his tone laced with a dangerous calm, his flaming eyebrows crackling faintly as he leaned back in his throne, his claws tapping rhythmically on the armrest.

Azumi hesitated, her sharp features tensing as she lowered the tablet, her voice cautious but probing. “Lord Aku… aren’t you… concerned? In this timeline… the Samurai’s back, isn’t he? Don’t you think he could give you trouble?”

Aku’s mind flashed to the past—his destruction of Jack’s kingdom, where he annihilated 4,000 troops in 20 minutes, punched Jack’s father in the face, and left the once-proud and hopeful kingdom in ruins. He remembered how Jack’s sword had failed to pierce him, how his newfound powers had prevailed not once, but twice. A soft scoff escaped his lips, his tone dismissive as he waved a clawed hand.

“Hm… not exactly. I mean, he could try, but you know,” he said, his voice dripping with confidence, his fiery eyes still closed as he smirked.

Azumi bowed her head slightly, her crimson eyes glinting with unwavering loyalty. “I put my absolute faith in your judgment and ability to handle him,” she said, her tone reverent, though a flicker of unease lingered in her expression.

Aku’s eyes popped open, his fiery gaze burning with a dangerous intensity as he licked his fangs and green lips, a guffaw erupting from his throat. “Oh, dear Azumi!” he said, his laughter echoing through the chamber, the runes on the walls flaring brighter. “Of course, it is alright to doubt, especially at this stage of my rule over the world…”

Azumi paused, unnerved by his sly tone, her sharp features tensing as she straightened, her voice steady but cautious.

“…I would never doubt you, your wisdom, and your prowess in combat… my Lord,” she said, her crimson eyes meeting his fiery gaze, her loyalty unwavering despite her unease.

Aku shrugged, his business suit shifting on his demonic form as he leaned back in his throne, his tone casual but edged with menace. “That’s alright,” he said, his smirk widening as he pulsed blue, his blackened form seeming to grow in strength momentarily.

“I let people see, and I let people believe. It’s worked, for the most part, you know. Heh. I can feel…”

He paused, his fiery eyes glinting with a dangerous glee as the faith of his subjects coursed through him, empowering him.

“…the faith of citizens far and wide in my world, coursing through my veins.”

Azumi bowed deeply, her black robes pooling around her as she lowered her head. “So… Lord Aku… what do you suppose we do with the Samurai and the youngest?” she asked, her tone deferential, her crimson eyes fixed on the floor.

Aku thought for a long moment, his fiery eyes narrowing as he leaned back, a clawed hand stroking his chin. Then he shrugged, his smirk returning as he waved a hand dismissively. “Nothing,” he said, his tone casual, his fiery eyes glinting with amusement.

Azumi’s eyes widened slightly, her sharp features tensing as she straightened, her voice soft but surprised. “…Understood,” she said, her crimson eyes searching Aku’s face for any sign of doubt, but finding none.

Aku leaned his fist on his chin, crossing his legs on his throne as he grinned, his tone laced with a dangerous calm.

“Just leave them be for now, pffft… I don’t have a reason to attack them. Remember… I only swing my fist when others swing first,” he declared, his fiery eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and menace as he turned his gaze to the figure standing silently in the shadows.

“Isn’t that right… my dear Ashi?” Aku said, his voice a low purr, his fiery eyes locking onto the young woman standing at the edge of the chamber.

Ashi stepped forward, her green eyes glowing faintly, her sharp features set in a solemn expression as she bowed her head, her pointed hairdo casting a shadow across her face. “Yes… father. Lord Aku,” she said, her voice steady but edged with a quiet conflict, her gaze fixed on the floor.

Aku’s smile widened, a soft grunt escaping his throat as he leaned forward, his tone deceptively warm.
“My dear Ashi… if you’d be so kind…”

He pulled up a holographic projection, displaying coordinates a little further down the coastline from E-273, and shoved it toward her, the blue light illuminating her face. “Could you deal with some nonbelievers here for me?”

The projection shifted, showing photos of a group of people forming their own cult, pushing others away from Aku’s belief system, their defiance a thorn in his side. “See, Ashi… usually I’d live and let live, but these people… are a bit of a nuisance these days,” Aku said, his tone laced with mock regret, his fiery eyes glinting with amusement.

Ashi hesitated, her green eyes flickering with a mix of duty and doubt, before she nodded, her voice soft but resolute. “Yes… father. I… will ensure they’re dealt with. I’ll go there right away,” she said, her solemn gaze meeting his for a brief moment before dropping back to the floor.

Aku grinned, his clawed hand reaching out to give her pointed hairdo a light pat, his tone dripping with false warmth. “Your loyalty is very much appreciated,” he said, his fiery eyes glinting with a dangerous intensity as he leaned back in his throne.

Ashi’s lips twitched into a slight smile, a flicker of warmth in her expression, before it quickly dropped back to her solemn demeanor. She turned to leave, her gaze briefly meeting her mother’s scornful crimson eyes burning with disapproval.

With her head down, the pointed tip on her hair drooping with the movement, she walked past them, heading toward the exit of the obsidian tower.

Aku leaned back, his smirk widening as he shrugged, his tone casual but edged with menace.

“Well, yes! Anyways, I have to go to another city soon tomorrow. I’ll be leaving this place… all I wanted to do was to check on the progress we’ve been making… and also… check on how the machines underground are doing,” he said, his fiery eyes glinting with smug satisfaction as he crossed his legs, his business suit shifting on his demonic form.

Ashi paused at the exit, turning back to look at Aku one last time, her green eyes meeting his fiery gaze before shifting to her mother’s scornful stare. Azumi turned away, refusing to even acknowledge her daughter, her sharp features set in a mask of disdain.

Ashi’s expression hardened, and she stepped through the exit, disappearing into the shadows of the skyscraper.

Azumi sighed, a soft scoff escaping her lips as she straightened, her crimson eyes glinting with a mix of frustration and resignation. Aku’s grin widened, his voice a low whisper as he leaned forward, his fiery eyes glinting with amusement.

“It’s hilarious how in the last timeline she thought she could stray too far off the beaten path…” he said, his mind flashing to the memories of the erased timeline..

Ashi—freed from his control by Jack’s love, disowning her father, and warping them back to the past to destroy Aku once and for all. He remembered watching their tender moment in the time portal, Jack and Ashi holding hands, smiling as they returned to the past. He saw Jack’s final blow, the explosion of his previous incarnation's tower, and Ashi nearly fainting as she felt Aku leave her, Jack comforting her under the sunset.

But he also remembered the tragic end—Ashi vanishing in Jack’s arms during their wedding, her shiromuku falling empty to the ground, her existence erased because Aku’s destruction in the past meant she could never be born. Jack’s grief, softened only by the sight of a ladybug, a symbol of hope for a better future.

"Heh. Look at that. She tried so hard..." 

He leaned back in his throne, his immaculately-ironed suit scraping against the rough surface of the arm of the throne, cleared his throat, and continued.

“…and yet here, she ends up back where she started,” Aku finished, his tone laced with dark amusement, his fiery eyes glinting with a dangerous intensity as he leaned back in his throne.

Azumi’s sharp features tensed, her crimson eyes narrowing as she turned to him, her voice low but firm.


“…We do need her. Don’t we?” she asked, edged with concern, her gaze searching Aku’s face for any sign of doubt.

"Of course... I do..." 

Aku’s grin widened, his fiery eyes burning with a chilling certainty as he leaned forward, his voice a low, menacing purr.



“…Until I don’t,” he said, his voice dripping with finality, his flaming eyebrows crackling softly as the runes on the walls flared brighter, casting the chamber in an eerie blue glow.

Chapter 17: CXVII

Chapter Text

The atoll’s air hung heavy with the scent of salt and damp earth, gray clouds drifting lazily overhead as thunder rumbled in the distance. Chief Whetu stood at the edge of the tribe’s settlement, his coarse beard framing a weathered face etched with suspicion. His dark eyes studied the two strangers before him—a girl with a neat bob, pink jacket, black tank top, ankle-cropped pants, and ballerina flats, her demeanor sharp and calculating; and a man in an ancient gi, his long, wild hair matted and soaked, his chiseled features sharp yet drained, exhaustion clinging to him like a second skin. A katana rested at his side, its presence as incongruous as the man himself. Whetu’s brow furrowed—what were these two doing on his island?

After a long moment of deliberation, his apprehension warring with his duty as host, Whetu sighed, his broad shoulders relaxing slightly. “Come,” he said gruffly, his voice carrying the weight of a man who’d seen too much. “You two don’t seem like you’re dangerous… so I’ll show you around. But I’m watching you.” The tension in his stance didn’t ease as he turned, gesturing for Jack and Ami to follow.

Whetu led them through the settlement, his steps measured but firm, pointing out the tribe’s sacred spaces with a mix of pride and reverence.

“This is our marae,” he said, indicating a prayer ground encircled by carved 6 horned wooden posts, each etched with swirling patterns that seemed to pulse faintly in the dim light.

“And that’s the wharenui—our big prayer house.”

The prayer house loomed ahead, a large wooden structure with a steeply pitched roof, its facade adorned with intricate carvings of ancestors and deities, though some bore a newer, more sinister design—gnarled, rectangular koru patterns, unfurling like devil’s horns. Aku’s horns.

Jack’s stomach churned as he noticed the younger tribespeople passing by, their faces, arms, and legs marked with the same modified koru tattoos, the patterns a stark reminder of Aku’s influence. Ami, meanwhile, tilted her head, her sharp eyes taking in every detail with a curiosity that bordered on predatory.

Whetu continued the tour, leading them past rows of wooden houses—wharepuni, he and the tribe called them—where families lived, their thatched roofs glistening with recent rain. Larger structures of reinforced concrete stood nearby, their modern design clashing with the traditional architecture. “Aku built these for us,” Whetu explained, his tone softening with gratitude. “Storage rooms for our food and supplies. Keeps them safe from the storms.” Jack’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing, his hands clammy as he gripped the hilt of his katana.

The chief then took them to a small workshop where women sat cross-legged, weaving intricate embroidery into strips of fabric. The patterns were koru-inspired but twisted—more unfurled, gnarled, and rectangular, unmistakably mimicking Aku’s horns. “Our new style,” Whetu said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “The young ones like it. They wear it proudly.” Jack’s eyes narrowed, his heart sinking as he saw the depth of Aku’s corruption woven into the tribe’s traditions.

Next, Whetu led them to the farmland, patches of fertile soil on the small island where crops thrived despite the harsh environment.

“We grow kūmara, taro, hue, and uwhi,” he said, pointing to rows of crops that resembled different shades and sizes of tubers, bottle gourds, and yams.

“And over there—” he gestured to a cluster of mangrove trees along the shoreline, their roots gnarled and sprawling– “Aku gave us those. Genetically modified to stem the flooding, to help us combat the rising tides. They protect us from the squalls.”

The trees stood like sentinels, their leaves’ veins shimmering faintly with an unnatural blue sheen, a testament to Aku’s twisted “benevolence.”

Finally, Whetu led them to the ocean’s edge, the gray waves lapping at the shore as thunder rumbled closer. He waded into the water, the pounamu jade necklace around his neck glowing faintly as he submerged himself up to his chest. Jack and Ami watched, their eyes widening—Ami’s with curiosity, Jack’s with consternation—as Whetu popped his head above the surface, giving a thumbs-up. A blue glow enveloped him, a small shield forming around his body, repelling the cold, salty seawater. The ocean parted around him, leaving him untouched as he waded back ashore, the jade’s power undeniable.

Jack stood frozen, his breath catching in his throat. “You cannot be… serious here,” he said, his voice trembling with disbelief.

“Chief Whetu… Aku is the ultimate evil. You must believe me.”

Ami scoffed internally, amused by the tribe’s traditions. Outwardly, she played her part, pretending to jot information down on a small notepad.

“Mmm, yes,” she said, her tone dripping with false sincerity. “I personally think Lord Aku will be quite pleased with your adherence to his rule.”

Whetu turned to Ami first, his expression one of earnest gratitude as Jack looked on in horror, his hands clammy, trembling like that of a flower’s petals in a thunderstorm.

“Yes, absolutely,” Whetu said, his voice firm.

“When you get back to wherever you are, please put in a good word for us. We appreciate what Te Ariki Nui, Aku, has done for us. He’s helped us with our way of life, made things better… let us keep our traditions. It’s only right that we honor him.”

Then Whetu turned to Jack, stroking his coarse beard, his dark eyes solemn as he studied the venerable samurai, now a bundle of nerves.

“Well… young man,” he said, his voice steady, “I believe what I can see.”

A long pause hung between them, the weight of his words sinking in as he stood shoulder to shoulder with Jack, the irony of calling him “young man” lost on Whetu—Jack, who had spent 50 years in the erased timeline without aging, now faced with a reality where Aku was revered as a savior.

Whetu sauntered off briefly to another location, leaving Jack and Ami standing on the shore.

“And what I see from Te Ariki Nui has only been beneficial for us, our tribe, our iwi,” Whetu called over his shoulder, his voice carrying a finality that left Jack reeling.

Jack’s mind spun, his voice barely above a whisper. “…????”

Ami smirked, her tone laced with mockery. “Heh, what a life… they get to have all this, for essentially nothing in return.”

Jack’s eyes widened, his voice trembling with disbelief. “N-nothing in return…? They revere Aku… the demon! The Shogun of Sorrows. It’s strange!”

Ami rolled her eyes, scoffing silently as she turned away, her mind already racing with plans. She knew Jack needed to understand this world more before he started playing hero again, but for now, she’d let him stew in his shock.

A little while later, Jack and Ami sat inside the wharenui on rickety bamboo chairs, positioned behind a small congregation of tribespeople. The air was thick with the scent of burning herbs, the atmosphere heavy with reverence as the distant clattering of rain against metal and straw on the little village’s huts continued, nature’s pace clearly defiant to the holy session inside the hut.

Chief Whetu stood at the front, his voice resonant as he recited a traditional prayer, the words as clear, the meaning as translucent as the surface of the pounamu jade itself.

E te Atua, homai te kaha, homai te māramatanga, kia tiakina mātou i te pōuri o te ao nei ”.

Jack and Ami sat in tense silence, the creak of their bamboo stools barely audible over the rhythmic chant of the karakia. Jack’s hands gripped the edge of his seat, his knuckles white, his sharp features etched with disbelief as he watched the tribespeople bow to the statue. He leaned toward Ami, his voice a hushed, trembling whisper, barely containing his horror. “They’re praying to Aku…”

Ami’s sharp eyes flicked toward him, her expression one of mild amusement as she leaned in, her voice a low, casual murmur. “So?”

Jack’s gaze snapped to her, his eyes wide with incredulity, his breath catching in his throat. “I don’t understand…” he whispered, his voice strained, each word heavy with the weight of his realization. “You are telling me that Aku’s new world runs like this?”

Ami nodded, rolling her eyes as she leaned back in her chair, her pink jacket rustling softly. “That’s why you can’t stop him in the way that you did the last time…” she said, her tone matter-of-fact, but with a knowing edge that sent a chill down Jack’s spine.

Jack reeled, his mind racing as he internally winced, the implication of her words hitting him like a blade. She knows… he thought, his heart pounding. She knows something about the erased timeline… The memory of his victory over Aku in the erased timeline, where he’d returned to the past and defeated Aku with Ashi’s help—flashed through his mind, now a distant, unreachable echo in this corrupted reality. His hands trembled slightly as he turned away from Ami, his gaze returning to the prayer session, the blue glow of the Aku statue reflecting in his haunted eyes. Ami, sensing his turmoil, said nothing more, her soft grin returning as she watched the tribespeople with calculating interest.

Jack’s mind churned, his voice silent but his thoughts a storm of doubt and determination, as the two continued to watch the prayer session unfold. The tribespeople’s chants grew louder, the statue’s glow intensifying, and Jack’s resolve hardened—he couldn’t let Aku’s influence spread further, no matter the cost.

Ami, deep in thought, mused internally as her grin widened. So that jade… repels water and keeps the storms and drizzling here to a minimum, doesn’t it? Hm… She barely registered 


A wave of hushed reverence washed over the clearing as the tribespeople prostrated themselves before the carved idol. Aku's form, rendered in stark, unsettling detail, loomed above them: six horns spiraling towards the shadowed sky, eyes burning with a cold, blue fire, and fangs sharp enough to rend flesh. The air crackled with a palpable energy, a blue luminescence radiating from the statue, as the collective faith of the kneeling throng was drawn into its form. The ground beneath them vibrated with a deep, rhythmic thrum, a physical manifestation of the power being transferred, the very air thick with the scent of incense and the unspoken fervor of their devotion.

Ami sat with her hands behind her back, a soft grin on her face, her sharp eyes glinting with calculation. Jack, beside her, was a statue of disbelief, his face pale as he stared at the glowing figure. His heart almost froze, his mouth locked in place, unable to form words, his mind reeling at the sight of Aku being worshipped as a deity.

Finally, he leaned toward Ami, his voice a hushed hiss.

“Ami… shouldn’t we… do something?”

Ami’s gaze remained fixed on the statue, her mind deep in thought as she mused internally. So that jade… repels water and keeps the storms and drizzling here to a minimum, doesn’t it? Hm… She barely registered Jack’s words, her grin widening as a plan took shape.

Jack hissed again, more urgently. “A-Ami.”

“Shh…” Ami whispered, raising her left hand in a gesture that said little, but spoke all to Jack, her grin spreading into something almost predatory.

“That may be the key… for us to be able to pay a visit to Ari.”

 



Elsewhere, on a rugged coastline far away from the atoll, Ashi stepped out of a sleek black hovercar, the vehicle humming softly as it powered down. The coordinates Aku had given her led to a cliffside street overlooking a derelict beachfront hideout—crumbling buildings, old wooden planks, and collapsed structures littered the shore, debris scattered across the sand. A smattering of trees, including different species like pines, palm, coconut, and she-oak lined the coastline, their fronds and branches swaying in the salty breeze, casting jagged shadows over the scene.

Ashi stepped out of the hovercar, her green eyes narrowing, her black cloak flowing around her petite form, as the vehicle’s door slid shut behind her. At the wheel sat Scaramouche, a tall, flamboyant android with teal-blue eyes twinkling with mischief, his purple overcoat billowing dramatically despite the lack of wind. His black conical hat tilted at a jaunty angle, and his orange scarf fluttered as he leaned out the window, his robotic mouth stretched into a wide, toothy grin.

“Hey, babe, where’s my pay? Dooo-dooo… I haven’t got all day!” Scaramouche sang, his voice a lilting mix of sass and melody, his red high-heel boots tapping rhythmically against the hovercar’s floor. He waved his robotic wrist, a neon-green scanner embedded in the metal glinting in the dim light.

Ashi muttered under her breath, her expression cold as stone. “Here.” She swiped a black card across the scanner, the transaction beeping with confirmation, her movements precise and devoid of warmth.

“Much appreciated, love! Bee-ba-ba-doo-doo…” Scaramouche crooned, his teal eyes flashing with delight as he pocketed the payment, his long neck craning toward her. His blue-green tongue flicked out briefly, a playful gesture that only deepened Ashi’s irritation.

Ashi turned away, her tone trite as she waved a hand dismissively. “How annoying.”

Scaramouche’s robotic mouth opened wider, his voice rising in a teasing singsong. “Aw, dear! You’re even more stone-cold than I am! Dooo doo doo ba ba ba beeee…~” He leaned further out the window, his orange scarf flapping as he grinned, clearly enjoying himself.

Ashi’s patience snapped, her voice sharp as a blade. “Yes. Now go away, faster.”

Scaramouche fell oddly silent, pausing as he tapped a finger on the hovercar’s wheel, his teal eyes glinting with something darker—amusement, but with an edge of knowing. “Heh… oh, babe,” he said, his tone dropping into a more serious cadence, though still laced with his signature flair.

“You ain’t gotta clue what’s comin’… with that ‘tude of yours, are you really fit to be the prime heiress of the Global Order? You gotta be chill, ya know? Go with the flow of people’s vibes, and all that.”

He chuckled, a low, mechanical sound, before adding, “Heh, guess your dad didn’t teach ya how to show respect to sentient non-human beings! Ba ba be doo dooo~” 

Ashi remained silent, her back to him as she walked toward the coastline, her pointed hairdo casting a shadow across the rocky path. She didn’t dignify his words with a response, but a flicker of unease stirred in her chest, his words echoing in her brain. 

Scaramouche’s teal-blue eyes twinkled with laughter as he revved the hovercar’s engine, speeding back toward Megalopolis E-273.

“Like I said… beep ba doo doo doo~ Lord Aku only tolerates her… one day he’s gonna give her a thwackin’ and she’ll be reeling…! Doo doo daaaa,” he sang to himself, out of earshot of Ashi, his voice fading into the distance as the hovercar disappeared over the horizon.


She narrowed her gaze, her form pressed against the rough, sun-warmed surface of a massive rock. The alien, a figure of pure, consuming black, stood at the center of the gathering. His sharp, almost geometric features were marred by a lumpy, pulsating green skin, a sight both repulsive and fascinating. His confident stance, amidst the huddled rebels—humans with haunted eyes, beasts with wary snarls, and aliens with strange, luminous markings—spoke of a leader, a figure of grim authority.

“What is this heretic mumbling about …” Ashi muttered under her breath, her pointed hairdo casting a shadow across her face as she strained to hear fragments of their conversation.

The alien’s voice carried over the crashing waves, his tone defiant. “…to start… rebellion against the devil himself… he claims to be… what he doesn’t tell you is…”

The group nodded in agreement, their murmurs of assent rising like a tide. Ashi’s eyes widened, her grip tightening on the rock.

“These… nonbelievers… they must be stopped… at all costs…” she whispered, her voice steady but laced with a flicker of uneasiness that crept through her soul.

Shouldn’t Father do this? she thought, her mind racing. He’s certainly more powerful in combat prowess than me… But she shook her head, resolving herself. No. I have to confront them and try to confine them somewhere.

Steeling herself, Ashi stepped out from behind the rock, her green eyes glowing faintly as she faced the group.

“Freeze,” she said blankly, her voice cutting through the air like a blade.

“First Name… Last Name.”

She pointed squarely at the leader, his spindly form recoiling in a panic.

“C-Cole. Lampkin.”

“Good.” Ashi matter-of-factly responded, her voice devoid of emotion.

“You’re all coming with me. Now.” 

The congregation froze, heads whipping toward her. “Huh?” one of them muttered, a humanoid with scales glinting in the dim light.

Ashi’s expression hardened, her tone icy. “You’re disallowed to make unauthorised gatherings in this part of the world.”

Cole Lampkin sneered, his sharp features twisting with defiance. “Did you just make that rule up, woman?”

Another alien, a burly figure with glowing eyes, chimed in, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he held a fist at eye level, as some members of the group further stepped back slightly, fear consuming their bodies, others grimacing, jeering and mocking her.

The burly alien continues: “Yeah… that’s right little girl… stop policing us… are you making up laws here?”

Ashi’s gaze didn’t waver, her green eyes radiating intensity. “I am…”

She swung into action, her lunge so quick it almost looked like she had teleported mid-air in an instant, her movements fluid and precise, directing her icy glare at the small congregation, who instantly scattered in panic as the blade of her kusarigama landed on the earth where they had once stood.

“…only enforcing the law.”

Chapter 18: CXVIII

Chapter Text

 

The atoll slumbered under a bruised sky, the air thick with the tang of salt and the distant growl of thunder. Moonlight bled through tattered clouds, casting jagged shadows across the tribe’s wharepuni, where Chief Whetu’s snores rumbled like a storm of their own. Jack and Ami crouched in the underbrush, their breaths shallow, the strictest sense of the word the weight of their plan pressing against the silence. The pounamu jade, its water-repelling glow, their only hope to reach Ari’s island at the coordinates mentioned lay within, a beacon of power and guilt.

Ami’s eyes glinted, sharp as a blade. “If we don’t get to that island,  Aku’s grip tightens,” she whispered, her voice a hiss of impatience. “You saw how they worship him.”

A muscle ticked in Jack's jaw, his gaze fixed on the middle distance, his katana a cold, unyielding presence against his side. The rhythmic, guttural chants of the tribe, their voices raised in worship of Aku, still echoed in the hollow chambers of his mind, a haunting, insistent drone. He offered a tight, almost imperceptible nod, the gesture a forced acquiescence, though his spirit recoiled in horror. The crushing weight of the situation, a suffocating pressure, a noose slowly tightening around his very soul, strangled his inner protest, leaving him trapped in a suffocating silence.

They moved like shadows, weaving through the atoll’s dense underbrush, the leaves slick with dew and sharp against their skin. Thorns snagged at Jack’s gi, the fabric whispering against the foliage, while Ami darted ahead, her movements fluid as a panther’s, her pink aura dimming as the duo avoided detection. They ducked low, the glow of torchlight flickering from a nearby wharepuni where two big burly tribal guards stood, their tattooed arms gleaming with a sheen of perspiration, koru patterns curling across their skin like Aku’s horns. The guards’ deep voices rumbled in conversation, their spears glinting as they scanned the night.

Jack’s breath hitched, his hand on his katana, but Ami shot him a glare— don’t —and they slunk past, the guards’ shadows stretching long and menacing across the dirt.

A cluster of huts, their thatched roofs slick with recent rain, loomed ahead, the air thick with the soft, rhythmic snores of sleeping tribespeople. Jack and Ami moved like phantoms, weaving through the dense undergrowth, the damp earth squelching beneath their feet, each step a silent prayer against discovery. A third guard, his hulking form a dark silhouette against the flickering torchlight, patrolled near a cluster of wharepuni, his eyes narrowed, his senses alert.

The sharp crack of a snapped branch, betrayed by Jack’s misplaced step of his geta, shattered the stillness. They froze, sinking into the shadows of a gnarled shrub, its damp leaves trembling as the guard’s heavy footsteps thudded closer, his spear scraping ominously against the earth.
Jack’s heart hammered against his ribs, his grip on his katana a white-knuckled vise, but the guard, with a grunt and a muttered curse about 'damn birds,' dismissed the sound, his shadow retreating into the inky blackness.

Ami released a breath, her grin a sharp, reckless flash in the darkness, and they pressed onward, the wharepuni, and the jade it concealed, now tantalisingly close.



Inside Whetu’s wharepuni, the air, densely aromatised with the scent of woodsmoke and earth, the darkness broken only by slivers of moonlight seeping through the thatched walls. Jack and Ami held their breaths, their footsteps muffled on the woven mats as they crept through the shadowed space. Whetu lay in the corner, his massive frame sprawled on a mat, his coarse beard rising and falling with each thunderous snore. The jade rested on a carved wooden pedestal, its surface swirling with ocean-green light, surrounded by offerings—shells that gleamed like teeth, woven whorl-like patterns curling like Aku’s horns. The two moved like ghosts, hiding behind wooden pillars etched with ancestral carvings, ducking behind a low table cluttered with fishing nets and bone tools.
Whetu rolled over in his sleep, a sleepy grunt escaping him—“Hrrrrrgh”—and Jack and Ami froze, their breaths trapped in their chests, the dark emptiness pressing in like a vice.

However, Whetu’s eyes remained closed, his snores resuming, and they continued, their movements slow and deliberate, the jade’s faint glow guiding them through the gloom.

She could feel her entire being pulled toward the gemstone as she reached the pedestal, her fingers brushing the jade. “Got it,” she whispered, snatching it from the offerings table, the pendant humming softly in her grasp, its glow flaring like a heartbeat.
Jack’s brows slanted downward, a determined gaze hardening his face. “Let’s go,” he murmured, his voice tight with urgency.

“Oh no.”

Jack’s eyes widened as Ami grinned, the pendant still in her hands, a looming shadow rising behind them. Whetu stood, his dark eyes blazing with fury, his massive frame filling the space in between the support beams of the house.

“You. Two. Traitors.,” he growled, his voice a low rumble that shook the air.

“You two lied to us.”

Ami looked back, her eyes wide, teeth slightly gritted.

“Uh oh,” she muttered, clutching the jade tighter.

“RUN!!!” Jack yelped, grabbing Ami’s arm as Whetu let out an eardrum-shattering roar of primal fury, awakening the rest of the tribespeople up to see the commotion of what was happening. 

They broke out of the wharepuni, Whetu in tow, his shouts rousing the tribe into a cacophony of noise—thirty tribespeople, men, women, and children, racing after them with cries of rage, their torches casting wild shadows across the atoll.

“That jade! No… That… Lord Aku’s gift!” Whetu bellowed, his voice cracking with desperation as he led the charge, his spear raised high. Jack and Ami sprinted through the jungle of the atoll, stumbling through leaves that slapped at their faces, gnarled branches clawing at their clothes, the muddy rain-soaked soil sucking at their feet.

They burst out of the foliage, feet almost sinking into the soil’s clay-like consistency onto the rickety, run down dock where the Stormchaser waited, its hull creaking in the rising wind, and leapt aboard by the skin of their teeth. Ami grinned, sticking out her tongue, the jade glowing in her hand like a stolen star, while Jack’s face twisted with fear, the weight of what they’d done sinking into his bones like a blade.

Whetu seethed on the shore, his tribespeople gathered around him, their faces etched with anguish as they watched the Stormchaser pull away.

Inside the wharenui, the six-horned Aku statue’s eyes instantly switched from a cool, minty blue to a deep, sea malevolent glow that pulsed like a heartbeat, and the island shuddered beneath their feet. The ground cracked, the sea roaring in with a vengeance, the jade’s absence stripping away Aku’s protection. The genetically modified mangroves, once a symbol of Aku’s perceived benevolence, strained, their roots snapping like brittle bones, unable to contain the sinking land. The island began to sink below the waves, a swirling whirlpool devouring the atoll with relentless hunger. Mothers clutched their children, fleeing toward the shore, some scrambling onto planks, driftwood, broken debris, and stray floating supplies, but most were swallowed by the inky ocean, their screams drowned, the dark waters indifferent to their pleas for survival. 

Whetu stood at the water’s edge, his knees sinking into the mud as the waves lapped at his chest, his dark eyes fixed on the speeding boat.

“No… Lord Aku, do not forsake us… we plead of you!” he cried, his hands raised to the moonlight, his voice a desperate prayer for acknowledgement of the plight of his tribe.

The heavens never responded, the stars and the moon only offering their unyielding gazes at the portly man, standing on the remains of a once vibrant atoll, once a symbol of how tradition’s coexistence with modernity and progress.

The island sank faster, the wharenuis collapsing into the abyss, and Whetu’s final words carried over the wind as the ocean claimed him.

“…May we join the stars in the sky once more, mā ngā kahui whetū e arahi ō tātou wairua ki te rohe rangimārie…”

He sank into the abyss, his tribe vanishing with him, the atoll reduced to a graveyard beneath the waves.

Jack looked back from the Stormchaser ’s deck, his face anguished, his hands trembling on the railing as the storm cluster loomed closer, raging squalls swirling debris around them. “We… we just… we just destroyed them…” he stammered, his voice raw, the tribe’s cries echoing in his mind like a curse.

Ami, steering the ship, smirked, congratulating hersef in her brain as she clutched the jade. “Heh… so what? You said they were worshippers of Aku. This is what they deserve, isn’t it?” Her tone was cold, almost gleeful, her eyes glinting with reckless delight.

Jack’s gaze dropped, his voice barely a whisper. “…I didn’t know… that would happen…” The weight of the tribe’s destruction pressed against his chest, a guilt he couldn’t shake, the faces of the children sinking into the whirlpool burned into his memory.

Ami scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Tch. You go from despising people to then feeling ‘sorry’ for them. Haaaa… Samurai, that’s actually hilarious.” She laughed, a sharp, unhinged sound that cut through the storm’s howl, her indifference a stark contrast to Jack’s torment.

Jack turned away from her, his gaze low, his thoughts a storm of their own. This… she’s off, this woman… though identical to Ashi, she shares none of the traits that made my Ashi a force for good… she’s not normal. She’s insane… I have to get out of here… I have to get out of her influence. The realisation settled in his bones, a quiet resolve forming amidst his anguish—he couldn’t stay with Ami, not after this, not with her brazen disregard for life.

The Stormchaser pressed on, the jade’s glow flickering as they sailed through the storm toward Ari’s island, the squall’s fury battering the ship with relentless waves. The “barrier of chaos” shimmered ahead, a blue wall crackling with electricity, but the jade resonated, parting the barrier with a groan of strained wood. Ami, sailing through the storm, let out a triumphant laugh. “Ha ha… guessed right!” she crowed, her pink aura flaring brighter.

Jack, noticing the clouds almost part as the ship seemed to speed through the squall with ease, stared in awe. “This… is…” he murmured, his voice trailing off, the jade’s power a fleeting miracle against the storm’s wrath.

Ami put her hand on the throttles, her grin widening as the squall parted for them, the jade’s glow guiding their path. “Oh yes, look at this,” she said, her tone dripping with smug satisfaction. After a long and arduous journey through the storm, they reached the eye of the squall—a haunting calmness, like the eye of a hurricane, where the winds stilled and the sea lay flat, reflecting the bruised sky above.

Gradually, an island, razed and blackened, like a volcanic scar shrouded in mist, its shores a post-apocalyptic wasteland—bones of sea creatures littered the black sand, some with extra limbs, others with faint blue stains near their eye sockets, some even looking like two different species fused together, their bones a sickly mesh of creatures long thought to be genetically incompatible with each other, all seemingly twisted by the experiments of whoever had caused the suffering of these creatures in the first place.

Ami, her flats crunching on the gritty, ashen sand, disembarked with a casual flourish, her posture radiating an unsettling calm. The shellshocked samurai, his senses still reeling from the chaotic journey, staggered onto the blackened beach, the taste of salt and the stench of volcanic ash stinging his nostrils. His eyes, wide with apprehension, locked onto the gaping cavern, a dark, jagged scar on the side of the extinct volcano. His fingers tightened around his katana’s hilt, the cold steel a stark contrast to the burning dread in his gut. In contrast to his own cautious, even slightly paranoid demeanour, the woman, her pink jacket a splash of defiant colour against the monochrome landscape, sauntered towards the ominous opening, her grin a sharp, unsettling curve.

'That cavern looks fun to explore, doesn’t it?” she asked, her voice echoing eerily across the silent beach

 Jack, his balance still compromised, followed her into the cavern, where gnarled, spiraling steps, carved into the rock, descended into the island's depths.

A faint, pulsating blue glow, a sickly, unnatural light flickered from below, hinting at the so-called sapphire-eyed demon's lab and the extent of Aku’s insidious influence. Jack's heart pounded with a heavy dread, the atoll’s ruined beauty a stark reminder of their mission, while Ami’s pink aura flared with an almost manic anticipation. Whatever waited for them in the depths, they would face it together, a fragile alliance against the encroaching darkness.




The raw, salty air whipped around Ashi as she stood upon the moist, sandy coastline, her gaze fixed upon Cole Lampkin and his seven fallen rebels. Their bodies, a patchwork of bruises and lacerations, lay scattered across the windswept cliffside, their ragged breaths mingling with the crashing waves below. The derelict beachfront, a desolate expanse, stretched into the distance, the alien trees rustling with a mournful sigh, their fronds casting long, jagged shadows across the scene of defeat. Ashi's green eyes, hard as polished jade, burned with disgust as she met Cole's defiant stare. Her black catsuit, slick with the remnants of battle, shimmered under the cold, silver moonlight, and the faint hum of her kusarigama and laser weapons, a testament to her ruthless efficiency, echoed through the desolate air.


“It’s time that I…” 

Ashi’s voice was cold, her tone unyielding.

“…send you to the proper, relevant authorities.”

Cole Lampkin, blood trickling from his lip, glared up at her, his voice hoarse but defiant. “This… I promise you… we weren’t doing anything th-!”

Ashi cut him off, her expression unchanging.

“I don’t want to hear it.”

She drove the heel of her stiletto boot into his mouth, the impact forcing a gagging cry from him.

“HRK… AH…”

The green-skinned alien writhed on the ground, clutching his jaw as his skull throbbed, pain radiating from Ground Zero from the point of impact. 

Ashi loomed over him, her voice a low, menacing growl.

“If you dare to challenge Aku's order in any way, shape, or form in a non-constructive manner… isn’t it only fair that you should suffer the consequences for it?”

Cole, gasping through the pain, spat blood onto the rocky ground, his words ragged but fierce.

“We haven’t done… anything you… fucker… we never… did anything… to you… we were not… bothering you… why would… you… do this to…!”

Ashi snorted, running a finger through her gelled, silky smooth hairdo, pointed to a swirled tip as she internally blocked out the wails of the group she had beat up earlier.

“This is really annoying.”

Turning her back on the scene of carnage, with an apathetic motion of her hand, a gesture of indifference to the suffering she’d inflicted on the small group of nonbelievers, Ashi's fingers moved with cold precision, dialing the security task force. The air, thick with the coppery tang of blood and the raw, animalistic sounds of pain, vibrated with the rebels' suffering. Moans, ragged breaths, and choked cries filled the space, a chorus of agony rising from their mangled forms. Each bruised and broken limb, each welt and contusion, spoke of her brutal, unwavering assault. Her voice, flat and clinical, cut through the cacophony of suffering, as she relayed her orders, a stark contrast to the chaos she had wrought.

“Hello, yes… yes… Mother,” she said, her voice steady despite the chaos around her. “I have dealt with the issue for now… do you need me to do anything else?”

On the other end, the High Priestess, Azumi’s voice was ice-cold, her tone devoid of warmth.

“There is no need to, Ashi.”

Ashi’s face dropped for a moment, a flicker of disappointment crossing her features, before she returned to her serious demeanor.

“…Okay, Mother, I understand.”

The High Priestess continued, her voice sharp as a blade. “Your father, in his grace and I have already sent forces to the coastline to round up those pests that call themselves rebels. We can mark this situation as resolved.”

Ashi’s response was automatic, her tone flat. “…Yes, Mother.”

The High priestess continues, her tone devoid of warmth, almost robotically commanding.

“A little ways down the coastline, there should be more dissenters. All we ask is that you eliminate them, so that they don’t interfere with us, much like those you’d already dealt with for us.”

Ashi lowered her gaze momentarily, as the crisp evening air of the muddy beach rustled through her black overcoat and catsuit.


The High Priestess’s voice grew colder, a hint of disdain seeping through.

“After this, Lord Aku and I have another area for you to go to. And then after that, I need you to go back to a certain bar… of which I’ll send you coordinates for later in the city.”

She paused, the silence thick with tension, and continued. “Once you’ve completed that mission… next, Lord Aku wants you to go to another megalopolis.”

Ashi’s green eyes widen in disbelief at the bombardment of orders from her mother. Steeling herself for the weight of the task ahead, she said, lips dry and cracked with tension, as she voiced out a meek response.

“Where to, then?”

The High Priestess rolled her eyes, exhaling a sigh of disillusionment. In a curt manner, she responded, as matter-of-factly as she could without sounding too enraged at her daughter’s constant questioning.

“Megalopolis E-108.”

Ashi hesitated, her brow furrowing slightly.

“…Mother, could you brief me on where that place i-”

The High Priestess cut her off, rolling her eyes over the phone, her impatience palpable.

“Southern corridor of the planet. Colloquial name: Bhumanagara. Be there, at the main city centre in three days or less. Your mission: simply check if the people there are actively praying to your father, or if they’re trying to usurp him.”

Ashi nodded, her voice firm despite the unease stirring in her chest. “…Alright, Mother. I’ll be there soon.”

The High Priestess’s tone shifted, dripping with disdain and contempt as Ashi’s gaze lowered, her grip on the phone tightening. “Oh, one more thing…”

Ashi’s voice was quiet, almost hesitant.
“…Yes…?”

The High Priestess's grin, a sharp, cruel crescent, illuminated her face, her blood-red eyes, like polished rubies, reflecting the artificial glow of her Megalopolis E-273 office.

With a fluid, almost serpentine motion, she turned to leave for her next conquest, her thick, curly locks, black as a starless night, swishing behind her, and her blackened hands, radiating an unsettling, thrumming demonic energy, clenched and unclenched with impatient anticipation.

The erased timeline flickered behind her eyes, a grotesque tableau of betrayal.

Ashi, clad in a lurid, fluorescent leaf dress, lunged with feral intensity at her mother in a bid to protect Samurai Jack, his form a silhouette of desperate resolve as he meditated, seeking the celestial aid of Odin, Ra, and Rama to reclaim his stolen sword. Then, the stark, brutal image of Ashi's arrow, a dark flash of lethality, impaling her abdomen, extinguishing her own life as her vision faded to black, her last moments spent in freefall, and the rush of the wind around her masked visage as the ground sped closer and closer to her drained body.


Her own venomous words, a haunting echo, reverberated in her mind.

'How could you betray us, our family! He killed your sisters in cold blood!'

Ashi's defiant, chilling reply: 'No. YOU killed our sisters.'

The memory, a festering wound of betrayal, fueled her contempt, her voice a low, venomous purr, each word dripping with icy malice for the reincarnation of a daughter who had no memory of the future she'd altered. 


A slow, deliberate drawl slithered from the High Priestess Azumi's lips, her eyes twisting like a serpent's as she stared intently at the screen of her smartphone, her thumb hovering above the button to end the call, glowing a bright red in the darkness of her lofty office unit.

'You were always a creature driven by insatiable curiosity...' she murmured, inaudible to Ashi, the words laced with a subtle, predatory amusement.

'But patience, little one. Patience is a virtue you shall learn to embrace, for now.'



Ashi’s response was subdued, her eyes fixed on the ground. “…Understood, Mother.”

Azumi ended the call, swiping out of the app on her phone, her grin widening as she mused to herself, her voice a low whisper.

“Like Lord Aku said… we have to give our dear daughter free will… yet… also gently nudge her with some reminders of her place in the universe’s order.”

Back on the coastline, Ashi lowered the phone, her sigh heavy but not victorious—just a hollow silence as she looked down at the seven rebels she’d beaten, their pained groans fading into the crashing waves below. Her green eyes flickered with a shadow of doubt as she looked on at the platoons of hovercars in the distance, signs that backup had arrived, ready to bring the rebels to a supposed sense of justice, and that she’d have to be present for her next task back in E-273’s centre. 

Chapter 19: CXIX

Chapter Text

 

The eye of the squall held an eerie stillness, the atmosphere heavy with the scent of salt and decay, the sea lying flat as a mirror beneath a bruised sky. Ari’s island loomed before the Stormchaser , a volcanic scar shrouded in mist, its black sand shores littered with the bones of sea creatures; some with extra limbs, others with sapphire eyes, all twisted by experiments that whispered of Aku’s influence. Jack and Ami stood at the edge of the jagged path leading downward into the island’s depths, the faint blue glow pulsing from a cavern below. Jack gripped his katana, his heart still heavy with the atoll’s loss, the cries of Whetu’s tribe echoing in his mind like a curse. Ami’s grin widened, her gait stiff with cautious anticipation, the pounamu jade’s glow flickering in her hand, its power nearly spent after parting the “barrier of chaos” to get them here.

They entered the cavern, the air growing colder with each step, the walls slick with moisture and embedded with glowing blue crystals that cast eerie shadows across their path. A spiral staircase of craggy stone descended into the gloom, its steps uneven and slick with algae, the faint hum of machinery echoing from below.

Jack took the lead, his movements slow and deliberate, his sharp eyes scanning for danger. “Careful, Ami,” he whispered, his voice low, his katana ready in its sheath. “We don’t know what traps she’s set.”

Ami nodded and with a mix of caution and excitement, silenced her footsteps on the stone as she followed close behind. They crept down the stairs, the darkness pressing in around them, the sound of dripping water mingling with their shallow breaths. Halfway down, Jack could feel the sensation of something brushing against his geta.

 

He flinched.

 

His eyes caught a barely visible tripwire, its thin thread shimmering faintly in the blue glow.

“Ami, down!” he hissed, shoving her back as he dove to the side. The tripwire snapped, and the steps beneath them collapsed with a deafening rumble, jagged rocks tumbling into the abyss below, the sound echoing through the cavern like a death knell.

Jack caught himself on the edge of a remaining step, his hands gripping the stone, his heart pounding as he pulled himself up. Ami, pressed against the wall, grinned despite the near miss.

“Nice catch, Samurai,” she said, her voice a low purr as she steadied herself.

Jack’s expression remained grim as he tested the next step, his katana now drawn. Another tripwire glinted ahead, its thread almost intangible in the dim light.
He sliced through it with a precise strike, the blade flashing in the blue glow.

A hidden mechanism triggered, and a jet of shining blue liquid shot from a crevice in the wall, its surface shimmering with a toxic sheen. Jack and Ami ducked, the liquid splattering against the opposite wall, where it sizzled and melted the stone, leaving a smoking scar in its wake.

They continued down the spiral staircase, dodging more traps—spikes that shot from the walls, a pressure plate that released a swarm of mechanical beetles with jade-blue carapaces, a net of electrified wires that sparked with blue energy. Each step tested their reflexes, their breaths heavy in the musty air, until they finally reached the bottom of the staircase. Before them stood a heavy iron door, its surface scarred and rusted, a faint glow reminiscent of the ocean's surface emanating from beneath it, casting an eerie light across the cavern floor.

Ami grinned, her expression a mix of triumph and mischief.

“This should be the place… heh,” she said, her voice low, her gaze fixed on the door.

Jack, uncertain, wiped the sweat from his brow, his sharp features set in a troubled frown.

“How do we get in… though?” he asked, his voice quiet, his eyes scanning the door for any sign of a lock or mechanism.

Ami thought for a moment, her chest heaving as she caught her breath, the musty air of the cave’s walls pressing in around them. The iron door’s sapphire glow pulsed faintly, a silent warning of the horrors within.

“If I remember correctly…” she muttered, her eyes narrowing as she stepped toward a glowing blue console near the door. She glanced at Jack, her expression one of sadistic excitement, then leaned in close to the console, her voice a whisper as she verbally spelled out the password.

“S… A… P… P… H… I… R… E… T… I… D… E… S.”

 

The console beeped softly, a green light flashing, and the iron door gradually swung open with a low groan, revealing a labyrinth of rooms beyond, tinted with the scent of chemicals and salt, the sound of flowing water, filtered from the ocean above filling their ears as they crept into the dark space.

The space was a hollowed-out cavern, its walls tiled with cracked ceramic, the floor littered with glowing test tubes and strange gadgets. Tanks lined the walls, containing disfigured organisms: a half-dead dolphin with rotted, gangrenous fins, a clam with spider-like legs skittering across the glass, a jellyfish with human-like eyes that stared unblinkingly, a seahorse with bat wings flapping weakly in its tank, a squid with a glowing blue brain visible through its translucent skin, its tendrils writhing in agony.

The dim glow of the lab cast everything in a haunting spectral light, a testament to Ari’s twisted genius.

Jack’s voice was a whisper, his eyes wide with horror as he took in the scene. “This place is…”

“!!!!”

Both of their eyes widened as they reached the end of the corridor, the relatively small lab space opening into a central chamber. At the back, hunched over a table, was a woman with a devil-horned hairstyle, her sapphire-blue eyes glowing with power.

Ari.

Ashi and Ami’s identical septuplet, or at least, Jack could so tell.

She was focused on a small box, on a table shaped vaguely like a scallop’s shell, jutting out of the walls of the lab. The box itself was filled with saltwater, it’s luminosity almost tedious and pounding to look at. A few shrimp swam clumsily inside, bumping into the walls of the tank, their brains glowing with blue essence through their exoskeletons, a grotesque display of Aku’s influence. Next to the box sat a mysterious cochlea-shaped machine, its black metal surface humming softly, tubes snaking from it to underground power sources, siphoning Ari’s faith to shield the island from storms.

Ari looked up, a flicker of anger crossing her face as she noticed the intruders.

“…How did you get in here?” she demanded, her voice cold, her eyes narrowing as she straightened, her white lab coat stained with chemicals.

Ami sauntered forward, her grin malicious, flicking her finger with disdain, as if beckoning a being of lesser sentience to come to her. 

“Hey, bitch. Remember me?” she said, her tone dripping with mockery as she cracked her knuckles, her flats echoing on the tiled floor.

Jack stepped forward cautiously, his katana sheathed but his hand ready, his sharp features set in a troubled expression.
His eyes widened as he saw the shrimp in the tank, their glowing brains a stark reminder of the sheer uncanny nature of this new world he’d been thrust into almost against his own will.

“You… must be Ari, right?” he asked, his voice low, recoiling slightly in shock at the sight.

Ari’s expression was unamused as Ami approached, her fist balled, sucking in air through her teeth in irritation.

“Ami, why are you in here? How did you get in here?” she repeated, her tone icy, her posture tensing as she set her glasses on the table.

Ami’s grin widened, her voice casual but laced with venom. “Heh… just wanted to pay you a little visit,” she said, her pink eyes flicking to the glowing test tubes and tanks around them. “How’s things?”

Ari furrowed her eyebrows, her lip curling into something resembling arrogance and pure, furious malice.

“…Things are okay, flowing smoothly,” she replied, her voice clipped, her gaze shifting between Ami and Jack.

Ami paused, her finger on her chin, her expression mock-thoughtful before she continued, “You know… I’ve got an offer for you…”

She pointed to the cochlea-shaped machine, its blue glow casting eerie shadows across the lab.

“Turn this shit off, and come with me.”

Wild-eyed and serpentine, she cackled, the echoes of her laughter ricocheting off the lab’s oppressive atmosphere, as Jack winced in disbelief, hand gripping his sheathed katana at the side of his gi.

Ari’s eyes and lips widened slightly, her expression a mix of disbelief and disdain.

“Why would I do that…?” she said, her voice rising with conviction.
“This machine allows me to help Father in his plans to spread benevolence throughout the world!”

Ami’s grin faded, her tone flat and scathing.

“That wasn’t a request, you crabby hermit. That was a fucking demand..”

The samurai, his gait unsteady with disbelief, stepped forward, his voice steady but laced with urgency, his gaze fixed on the grotesque experiments around them.

“Ari… you shouldn’t mutilate these animals… it’s suffering for them!” he said, gesturing to the tanks—the jellyfish with human eyes, the seahorse with bat wings, the squid with its glowing brain, all writhing in silent agony.

Ari scoffed, rolling her sapphire eyes as she sauntered up to Jack, shoving past Ami, who’s eyes widened with a mix of contempt and rage.

“Pffft… what would you know?” Ari said, her voice dripping with mockery.

“Aku’s will courses through my veins with the power of a thousand tsunamis. I shall not waver from the duty he has anchored me to. I’m doing well, in my little corner of existence.”

She made a dismissive motion with her fingers, placing a hand in her coat pocket, concealing the middle finger she wanted to give to her sister, and the disheveled, unkempt man in a gi who looked like he was trying to cosplay some warrior of the past. 

“I’m not sure who you are, ancient-looking dude, but I think you and my bratty younger sister should sail on out of here, back to where you came from.”

Jack’s expression hardened, his voice firm as he gestured to the grotesque abominations that Ari had made in her lab. 

“Ari… this is not right. You can’t be doing this to them. You can’t choose this consciously in good faith, can you?”

Ari’s gaze turned icy, her sapphire eyes flashing with defiance. The atmosphere in the lab, once light and airy save for the smell of chemicals, almost seemed to deteriorate to a molasses-like consistency, a testament to the tension that was quickly developing with the deterioration of the attempted diplomacy of this encounter between 3 parties who clearly didn't see eye-to-eye with everything. 

“As I said…” she began to retort, clicking her tongue in exasperation, “Lord Aku has put me in here, on this island for a reason.”

Ami’s patience snapped, slamming one hand on the shoulder of her sister’s disheveled lab coat as she stepped forward, her voice as sharp as her kunai.

“Hey, bitch, don’t look at him. Look at me,” she said, her fingers pointing to her own contemptuous eyes, then to Ari’s unamused ones.

Ari scoffed, her posture tensing, a passive-aggressive 'tch' escaping through her lips. Her foot twisted on the smooth linoleum.
“Ha… why do I need to?” she replied, her tone icy. “You’ve somehow trespassed onto my territory. If I wanted…”


She gestured to a device on the side of the desk—a small remote with a blue button on it, its surface glowing with an ominous aura. 
“I could… indeed notify Father, Lord Ak—”

Jack’s eyes widened as Ami moved in a blur, her leg snapping up in a vicious kick aimed at Ari’s face. The remote flew from Ari’s hand, smashing against the wall and shattering into pieces, the blue button sparking as it broke.

“Ami… stop!!!” Jack shouted, his voice filled with alarm as he rushed forward, his hands outstretched to intervene.

Ari barely managed to block the kick, her left arm taking the brunt of the impact, a punishing blow that sent her staggering back, the blood vessels in her cheeks rupturing instantly from the blow.

“KUHK… WHAT THE…!” she gasped, her sapphire eyes wide with shock, her lab coat fluttering as she stumbled.

Ami’s eyes gleamed, her grin widening

“Tell Father. I dare you,” she said, her voice a low, dangerous purr, as she launched another kick, her movements a blur of sharpshooter-like precision.

Ari dodged the second kick, her movements frantic, her sapphire eyes flashing with anger.

Jack gritted his teeth, rushing forward to help.
“Ami… No…! This is…!” he shouted, his voice strained, his sharp features contorted with conflict.

Ami ignored him, her focus locked on Ari, who grabbed a vial from the desk and hurled it at her. The vial missed as Ami ducked underneath, sailing toward Jack, who reacted instinctively, slashing it out of the air with his katana in a single, effortless motion. It exploded on impact, splattering corrosive liquid onto his hands, the red burns spreading across his skin as he coughed, his vision blurring.

“What… is happening…!” he gasped, his voice hoarse, his hands trembling as he shook off the liquid.

Ari took advantage of the distraction, landing a hit on Ami—a desperate punch to her jaw, drawing a thin trickle of blood from the corner of her mouth.

“HA…! TAKE THAT, YOU—” Ari started, her voice triumphant, but her expression shifted to shock as Ami stood there, unbothered, her intense gaze unwavering, the blood dripping down her chin.

“She… she fell to Aoi so easily back then… I thought I could…” Ari mused aloud, her sapphire eyes wide with disbelief, her confidence faltering.

Ami answered with a donkey kick, her leg snapping back with devastating force, sending Ari flying into the glass of a preservation chamber.

“That’s the problem, Ari,” Ami said, her voice cold, her pink eyes glowing brighter as the chamber shattered under the impact, glass shards flying everywhere.

Ari rolled out of the way just in time, avoiding another kick, but the glass shards sliced across her face, leaving jagged scars on her cheek, blood trickling down her pale skin.

“KUH—AHK!” The scientist, her voice ragged, her body trembling as she clutched her face.

Ami advanced, her expression unreadable, her pink aura pulsing with power. “You…

She said, her voice low, as she drove her fist straight into the middle of Ari’s chest, the impact forcing a cough of crimson from Ari’s lips, her body crumpling against the shattered chamber.

…think too much,” Ami finished, her tone devoid of emotion, her eyes glinting with a cold, predatory light.

Ari choked, another crimson torrent erupting from her lips, staining the grimy floor. Then came the brutal impact of Ami’s kick, a vertical arc of devastating force that slammed into her right arm. A sickening snap echoed through the chamber as bone splintered, the grotesque angles of the fracture immediately visible beneath the stretched, pale skin, sharp edges tearing at the soft tissue within.

Ari’s eyes, once vibrant, now flickered like dying embers, her breath catching in ragged gasps as her jaw snapped shut in a desperate, involuntary response to the physical pain. Another debilitating tremor wracked her battered body as she desperately tried to move, each twitch sending jolts of searing pain through her shattered limb.

“Enough… AHK…” she gagged, the word a mere whisper choked with blood, her hands trembling violently as she feebly attempted to push herself off the cold, unforgiving ground.

Jack stepped forward, his hands still red from the corrosive liquid, his expression a mix of anger and desperation.

“Stop. Ami,” he said, his voice firm, his heavy features set in a determined mask as he placed himself between them, his katana still sheathed but his presence commanding.

Ami’s eyes widened, her gaze shifting to Jack, a mix of amusement and disbelief in her expression.
“You… the arbiter of morality… defending this fucker…?” she said, her tone mocking, almost disgusted at the Samurai's objection to her brutality.

My my… this is in character…”

Jack’s jaw tightened, his hands clenching into fists, the burns on his skin stinging as he held his ground.

“This isn’t about defending her,” he said, his voice low but resolute.

“It’s about stopping this madness—before it consumes us all.”

 

He turned to the lab, his gaze locking onto the cochlea-shaped machine, its black metal surface humming louder as it siphoned Ari’s faith, powering her experiments and shielding the island.

Ari, still crumpled on the floor, laughed weakly. Despite her broken state, the cambion was determined to resist all temptation to defect from Lord Aku's rule... even if it meant losing her life to her own sibling. 

“You… can’t stop Father’s will,” she gasped, her voice a hiss.

“These creatures… they’re just the beginning. His dominion will spread—through the seas, through the skies, through every soul…”

Before Jack could respond, the lab came alive with movement—mutant crustaceans with sapphire eyes and extra limbs scuttled from the shadows, their claws snapping as Ari channeled the last of her power, blue energy crackling around her.

Jack raised the jade, its fading glow forming a shield to block the creatures’ attacks, the green light flickering as the pendant’s power waned. “Ami, the machine—it’s fueling her work!” he shouted, slicing through a crustacean, its sapphire eyes bursting with blue ichor.

Ami’s grin returned, her eyes wild as she dodged a claw, her pink aura blazing.

“On it, Samurai,” she said, hurling a knife imbued with her revitalised aura at the machine.

The blade struck true, embedding in the black metal, and the device sparked violently, the tubes rupturing as the siphoning process failed. The island trembled—thunder roared above, the storm shield collapsing as the seas began to batter the surface.

Ari screamed, her sapphire eyes flickering as she clutched her broken arm, her body trembling from Ami’s earlier blows.

“You fools… Father will crush you for this!”



Ashi waited, a shadow within shadows, in the grimy maw of an alleyway that snaked off the gleaming, maglev-lined avenues of Megalopolis E-273. The dilapidated bar, a neon-splattered stain on the cityscape’s otherwise pristine facade, pulsed with a sickly, intermittent glow, casting a lurid sheen over the cracked, oil-slicked pavement. The air, a noxious cocktail of stale synth-liquor and the acrid exhaust of hovering cargo drones, hung heavy and oppressive. Beyond the alley’s mouth, the city’s clean, pedestrian-filled walkways thrummed with life, holographic advertisements flickering across polished facades, oblivious to the darkness lurking within.

The High Priestess, Azumi, had dispatched her here after her successful operation to eliminate Cole Lampkin’s operations,, a grim task following the coastline incident: purge the city’s underbelly of dissent, enforce Aku’s will, regardless of the cost. Ashi’s sleek black catsuit, a perfect camouflage against the alley’s gloom, rendered her nearly invisible, her green eyes, glowing with a faint, predatory luminescence, the only sign of her presence as she watched the bar's entrance. Her kusarigama and laser weapons, concealed beneath the synthetic fabric, pulsed with a silent, deadly energy, ready to unleash their brutal purpose.


The bar was a known gathering spot for those who whispered against Aku’s rule, their defiance hidden behind forced smiles and lowered voices. Inside, a three-eyed alien girl named Narc had been dancing in a glass cage, her movements slow and deliberate, her iridescent skin shimmering under the neon glow. Her three eyes—one on her forehead, two on either side—darted nervously around the room, her expression a mix of fear and defiance. Once a spy for Aku in the original timeline, Narc had turned against him in this reality, her faith shattered by his cruelty. Now, she used her position in the bar to gather information for a small group of nonbelievers, passing messages in secret while serving drinks to the patrons.

Ashi had been watching her for two days, her presence a silent threat that kept the bar’s patrons on edge. On the third day, Narc emerged from the bar during a break, her three eyes scanning the alley as she slipped into the shadows, her movements cautious but determined. She approached a group of shadowed figures in cloaks, their faces hidden, their voices low and urgent. Ashi’s green eyes widened as she overheard their conversation, her body tensing in the darkness.

“The next shipment of weapons arrives tomorrow,” Narc whispered, her three eyes glinting with determination as she handed a small data chip to one of the cloaked figures. “We strike at the temple during the festival—show Aku we’re not his slaves.”

The cloaked figure, a grizzled human with a cybernetic arm, nodded, his voice a low growl.

“For the rebellion—for freedom,” he said, pocketing the chip as the others murmured in agreement.

Ashi stepped from the shadows like a predator, her movements swift and silent, her green eyes glowing with cold fury.

“You dare defy Lord Aku?” she hissed, her kusarigama whipping through the air, the chain wrapping around Narc’s wrist and yanking her forward.

Narc stumbled, her three eyes wide with terror, the data chip falling from the cloaked figure’s hand and clattering to the pavement. The other nonbelievers sprang into action, drawing makeshift weapons—a plasma knife, a rusted pipe, a stun baton—but Ashi was faster.

Her laser weapons hummed to life, beams of red light cutting through the air, disarming the group with precision. The human with the cybernetic arm charged at her, his mechanical fist whirring, but Ashi sidestepped, her kusarigama chain wrapping around his arm and yanking him off balance, his body crashing into the alley wall with a dull thud.

Another cloaked figure, a canine archaeologist with a scarred muzzle, lunged with his stun baton, but Ashi’s boot slammed into his chest, sending him sprawling to the ground, his weapon skittering across the pavement. The third figure, a wiry woman with a shaved head, tried to run, but Ashi’s chain whipped through the air, wrapping around her ankle and pulling her back, her head slamming into the ground with a sickening crack.

Narc struggled against the chain, her three eyes darting frantically as she tried to free herself. “We… we just want freedom!” she gasped, her voice trembling, her iridescent skin paling with fear.

“Aku.. he’s a dictator. You know it deep down…!”

Ashi’s expression didn’t change, her green eyes devoid of mercy as she tightened the chain, forcing Narc to her knees. “You are a traitor to Lord Aku,” she said, her voice flat, her kusarigama glinting in the neon light.

“Your words mean nothing.”

She bound Narc and the other nonbelievers with chains, dragging them to a nearby warehouse on the edge of the bar district, the rusted metal door slamming shut with a hollow clang as she locked them inside.

Ashi stood guard outside, her phone buzzing in her hand as she answered a call from the High Priestess. Azumi’s voice was cold, her tone laced with a mild hint of approval.

“Mmm… yes. Thank you for dealing with those nonbelievers. I’ve gotten word that the three-eyed alien woman has been captured. I’ll send some officers later to deal with them.” 

Ashi’s voice was steady, her green eyes fixed on the warehouse door. “Indeed, Mother.”

The High Priestess continued, her tone firm.

“Now, remember what I said a few hours earlier? Your next task is to go to E-108… to monitor their faith there… to make sure all dissenters that disagree are given an ultimatum: to join Aku…”

She paused, a crazed grin etching itself on her face, her blood red irises shining faintly as she descended down the flight of stairs of the building she was exiting.

“...or further fall behind in progress.”

Ashi nodded, her expression unreadable. “…Affirmative, mother.”

Azumi’s voice softened slightly, though her words carried weight. “At the western portion of the metropolis, Father has already chartered a private boat for you to sail across the seas to E-108, Bhumanagara. Another valet driver will pick you up.”

She paused, muttering under her breath, “Not Scaramouche, thank god. That robot is… truly a canker sore to my ears.”

Her voice returned to full volume over the phone, as cold and as detached as ever.. “Do you understand, my dear Ashi?”

Ashi’s response was quiet, almost mechanical. “…Yes.”

The call ended, and Ashi lowered the phone, her gaze distant as the neon lights of the bar district flickered around her. A sleek, black hover car approached, its engines humming softly, and an anthropomorphic mantis stepped out— introducing himself as Seth, the valet driver. His compound eyes glinted in the dim light, his mandibles clicking as he spoke, his voice a low buzz. “Ashi, I presume? I’m here to take you to the docks.”

Ashi nodded, her movements automatic as she stepped toward the hovercar, her black catsuit gleaming under the neon glow. But as she slid into the passenger seat, a hollow feeling settled in her chest, an emptiness that gnawed at her.

She should have felt fulfilled, triumphant even, as Aku’s enforcer—crushing dissent, enforcing his will.

Instead, she felt unfulfilled, lost, and confused, like something vital was missing.

A faint memory stirred, a whisper of a past life where she might have been a good person, or at least something close to that.

The thought lingered, heavy and unshakable, as the hovercar sped off into the night, carrying her toward her next mission.

Chapter 20: CXX

Chapter Text

 

The lab was a crumbling inferno of chaos, the air thick with the acrid scent of chemicals and the deafening roar of collapsing stone. Shards of concrete, glass, and steel rained down around Jack and Ami, shattering the transparent covers of the confinement areas where Ari’s grotesque sea experiments writhed in their tanks. The cochlea-shaped machine, its black metal surface now cracked and sparking, whined as its power wound down, the blue glow fading into darkness. The island trembled violently, the volcanic foundation giving way under the strain of the machine’s destruction, the storm shield gone, leaving the sea to batter the cliffs above.

Ari, bloodied and battered from Ami’s earlier assault, staggered to her feet, her eyes blazing with a mix of pain and fury. Her lab coat was stained with grime and crimson, her devil-horned hairstyle slumped and disheveled, strands of black hair plastered to her face, smudged with blood, sweat and maybe even some tears.

“You… fools…” she spat, blood dripping from her lips as she clutched her broken arm, her voice a ragged hiss.

“Father… Lord Aku… rescue me from the unforeseen tides of calamity that have besieged the blessed realm you have so bestowed upon me!” 

Jack, weaving through the falling debris, dodged a chunk of concrete that crashed where he’d stood a moment before, the impact sending a shockwave through the tiled floor. His sharp features were set in a mask of determination, his gi stained with blue blood from the mutant crustaceans he’d fought earlier, his hands still red and stinging from the chemical burns Ari had inflicted.

“Ari, come with us.”

He called out, his voice steady despite the chaos, his katana sheathed but his hand outstretched toward her.

“You can’t die here. You know that yourself. Come.”

Like a knife dulling itself for a moment, a flicker of doubt crossed her bloodied face. 

"No."

Her expression twisted into rage, her gaze snapping back to his anguished gaze with renewed venom.

“Die… DIE!”

She screamed, her voice echoing through the collapsing lab as she lunged forward, her uninjured hand grabbing a vial of glowing red chemical from a nearby table.

Ami, already dashing for the exit, glanced back over her shoulder, her own eyes narrowing in contempt look as she saw the samurai, still hopelessly pleading with her identical sibling. 

“This guy…” she muttered under her breath, her voice laced with disdain.

With a snap, she turned back toward the doors, her footsteps pounding against the cracked tiles as she grinned, a wicked edge to her expression.

“Hey, he chooses to die with her… that’s his choice,” she said to herself, her pink aura flaring briefly as she made her way to the exit, weaving through the falling debris with agile precision.

"DIE..."

With a heave, Ari hurled the glowing red chemical at Jack, the vial arcing through the air with a deadly shimmer. Jack barely dodged, his movements sluggish from the pain in his hands, the chemical burns searing his skin as he stumbled back.

“GAH!” he coughed, the fumes stinging his lungs, his vision blurring as he struggled to grip his katana, the hilt slipping in his injured hands.

The sniveling scientist sneered as she leaned against a shattered table for support, her breaths coming in ragged gasps.

“Your fighting style is dated… who brings a sword to a chemical fight…!”

Her voice exuded an air of mockery for the futile efforts of the samurai, as she grabbed more objects to throw—a heavy metallic sphere, a handful of vials glowing with an assortment of colors, even a chair that she kicked toward him with surprising force despite her injuries.

Jack lowered his gaze, his expression hardening as he slashed through the barrage with his katana, the blade flashing in the dim light.

The metallic sphere split in two, the chemicals exploded in bursts of toxic vapour that he narrowly avoided, and the chair shattered under a downward strike, its halves clattering to the ground.

“!!!!!!”

Jack jumped back in surprise as a massive chunk of rock collapsed in front of him, the impact shaking the entire lab, leaving only a small hole in the debris where Ari’s wrathful, incandescent face could be seen, huffing, panting, sneering at him with clenched fists, her bloodied lab coat a stark contrast to the cold blue glow of her eyes.

The samurai, unable to comprehend how fast the situation had deteriorated, tried in vain to open his mouth to speak, his voice catching in his throat as he met her gaze.  Before he could say another word, more rocks crashed down on his side of the lab, the ceiling giving way with a thunderous roar.

With that, he knew he had to make a hard decision. 

A decision that he knew, would haunt him forever, whether he lived or he died. 

“You…” he began, the words barely managing to escape his quivering lips.

“..could have chosen differently."

"Ari.”


Without further hesitation, he cast one last, forlorn look at the injured, scowling scientist—her sapphire eyes burning with defiance, her body trembling with rage and pain—and made his decision.

He leapt for the exit, weaving through fragments of shattered test tube glass, crumbling machinery, and soaking wet piles of paper from overturned cabinets.

As he raced past the confinement areas, he caught one final glimpse of Ari’s experiments, the grotesque creatures trapped in their tanks: the half-dead dolphin with rotted, gangrenous fins, its mechanical implants sparking weakly; a clam with spider-like legs skittering frantically back and forth upside down on the glass, as if resisting it’s fate to be buried alive in such a morbid way,; a jellyfish with human-like eyes that stared unblinkingly, the seahorse with bat wings flapping weakly in its tank; that squid with a glowing blue brain visible through its translucent skin, its tendrils writhing in agony.

Jack’s eyes welled up with tears as more debris fell onto the surface of their confinement areas, the heavy boulders crashing down with a sickening thud. Surprisingly, even with the weight, the glass didn’t break—but it didn’t matter. He couldn’t do anything for them now.

Jack reached the exit, the doorway nearly blocked by falling debris—concrete, stones, light fixtures, all tumbling down in a chaotic cascade. With a final burst of strength, he dove through the narrowing gap, rolling onto the craggy staircase beyond as the lab collapsed behind him, the sound of Ari’s screams swallowed by the roar of the destruction.

He raced up the stairs, the same booby-trapped spiral staircase he and Ami had descended earlier, his mind a storm of guilt and despair. What has happened to them in this timeline? he thought, his heart heavy with the weight of his failure. What has happened to everyone? I failed… to save them… when I put Aku in the ground.


I failed.

He emerged onto the blackened, muddy beaches of Ari’s island, the drizzle that had been falling for the past half hour soaking his gi, the wind whipping his wild hair across his face. Ami was waiting for him at the top of the staircase, her hand in the pocket of her pink jacket, her ballerina flats tapping impatiently on the sand, a bored look on her face.

“Huh… Samurai. Took you long enough,” she said, her voice casual but her pink eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and irritation.

“Thought you died there, heh. Was about to leave on the Stormchaser if another 30 seconds passed.”

Jack, shell-shocked, his eyes wide in abject horror, collapsed to his knees on the beach, his geta sinking into the sand, his hands trembling as he clutched the ground.

“What… has this timeline come to…” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of the waves crashing against the shore, the storm above raging with renewed fury now that the island’s shield was gone.

He furrowed his eyebrows in anger, clenching his fist as he forced himself to stand, his geta sinking deeper into the sand, his gi stained with grime, blue blood from Ari’s creatures, chemical spills, his hands reddened and raw from the burns.

You… Ami. Please, explain. What…

His hardened, frustrated gaze met Ami’s unamused one as he loomed over her, his voice rising with desperation.

“…do you know about this timeline? You’ve GOT to tell me!

Ami grunt-exhaled, tapping her flats on the sand with an exaggerated sigh.

“You think that attitude of yours is going to make me want to give you an answer?” she shot back, her tone dripping with mockery, her expression one of casual defiance as she crossed her arms.

Jack gritted his teeth, his frustration boiling over, his bloodshot eyes wild with anger and grief.

“I don’t know WHAT your plans are. I just need you to be HONEST with me,” he seethed, his voice raw, his wild hair blowing in the wind, his gi fluttering as the drizzle turned to rain, soaking them both.

Ami rolled her eyes again, making a horizontal thumbs-up gesture as she turned away nonchalantly, her pink jacket heavy on her shoulders, and not just due to dampness. 

“Let’s just go. I’m tired of staying here on this lonely, shitty, damp-ass island that’s been drizzling nonstop for the past half hour we’ve been here,” she said, her voice flat as she started walking toward the Stormchaser , docked a short distance away on the rocky shores.

Jack followed, his steps heavy, his mind a whirlwind of confusion and despair. They boarded the Stormchaser and sailed off, the island crumbling into the sea behind them, the volcanic cliffs swallowed by the raging waves. Jack stood at the helm, his bloodshot eyes staring out at the horizon, his hands gripping the railing so tightly his knuckles turned white.

What… was this world, even? he thought, his heart heavy with the weight of his failure.

I thought I’d killed Aku.

How had it come to this?





Hanei No Minato, a sprawling tapestry of docks and vessels a good distance southwest of the towering spires of Megalopolis E-273 greeted Ashi with a gust of invigorating, salt-tinged wind. Her black cloak billowed dramatically behind her, clinging to the lines of her catsuit as she efficiently paid Seth, the insectoid driver whose mantis-like limbs folded neatly as she disembarked. The port teemed with a frenetic energy: hulking freighters, their hulls scarred by interstellar voyages, disgorged exotic goods; a chorus of voices, a Babel of terrestrial and alien dialects, echoed across the bustling quays; and the air vibrated with the salty tang of the sea and the sharp, fishy scent of the day’s catch. Above it all, Aku’s menacing black-blue banners, emblazoned with his horned visage, fluttered like predatory flames from the peaks of every ship, a constant visual assertion of his tyrannical reign.

Seth bowed slightly, his mandibles clicking as he spoke, his voice a low buzz. “Pleasure doing business with you, Young Priestess Ashi,” he said, his compound eyes glinting in the evening light as Ashi swiped a card on a scanner near the dashboard of the hovercar, the beep confirming the transaction had been authorised.

Ashi simply nodded, her stance cold and unyielding

“Mhm. Most welcome,” she replied, her tone flat as she sauntered away, her cloak swishing in the wind, her boots echoing on the rickety planks of the docks as she scanned the area for her ride.

She spotted him a short distance away—a man dressed in a blue trenchcoat, a yellow tie around his neck, his body large and imposing but his head comically small, tweedy, and… distinctly phallic in shape. He stepped forward and bowed, his movements awkward, and introduced himself with a nervous smile.

“Young Priestess of the Global Order, I’m Seishi,” he said, his voice high-pitched and nasally, a stark contrast to his bulky frame. “I’m here to take you to Bhumanagara.”

Ashi rolled her eyes, her expression one of mild irritation. “Yeah, sure,” she said, her tone clipped as she sized him up.

Internally, her thoughts were less composed: This guy’s head is so small and so… His face looks like… a male part…

Her face flushed as she quickly shook her head, smoothing her hair to a point again to regain her composure.

“How long will the journey take?” she asked, her voice steady despite the heat in her cheeks, her hand resting on the kusarigama at her hip.

Seishi scratched the back of his tiny head, his yellow tie flapping in the wind. “Oh, around almost a day. It’s that long,” he replied, his tone cheerful but oblivious to her discomfort.

Ashi sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly.
“Okay,” she said, her voice resigned as she followed him to the speedboat docked at the edge of the port.

Seishi led her aboard, ensuring she was comfortable as she settled into the lower deck, lounging on a pristine white velvet sofa, the hum of the boat’s engine a steady rhythm beneath her. The speedboat pulled away from Hanei No Minato, cutting through the waves with ease, the evening sunset casting a golden glow over the ocean.

Ashi gazed out the window, her eyes softening for a brief moment as she watched the sea life—seagulls soaring overhead, fish jumping in and out of the water, a sea lamprey eel glowing faintly sapphire as it swam beneath the boat, its bioluminescence a haunting reminder of the world so upturned by the demon. 

Yet... she, as yet unaware of her heritage, smiled, a rare, fleeting moment of tranquility washing over her.

How calm… How serene, she thought, her grip on her kusarigama loosening for just a second.

“Sigh… this… if only,” she murmured, her voice barely audible over the sound of the waves.

The moment passed as quickly as it came.

The Young Priestess's expression hardened, her fingers brushing against the futuristic weapons on her catsuit’s hip as she pulled out her smartphone, checking for messages from Aku, the High Priestess Azumi, or any of their forces via burner numbers.

Nothing.

The screen was blank, and a sense of unease settled in her stomach, a quiet gnawing that she couldn’t shake.

She peered out the window again, watching more sea life pass by, her green eyes distant as her thoughts turned inward.

Am I… really appreciated by them…? she wondered, the question lingering in the long silence that followed.

…I have to be a good daughter for them. That’s the only way…

Her green eyes gleamed with renewed resolve as she sighed, a deep exhale that carried the weight of her doubts, crossing her arms over her torso.

“I can prove my worth to them,” she said to herself, her voice firm but tinged with a quiet desperation, the sunset’s glow wavering at her gaze, as the speedboat sailed on toward Bhumanagara.

 

Chapter 21: CXXI

Chapter Text

The Stormchaser cut through the churning waves, its sleek hull battered by the gray storms that raged around Ari’s crumbling island. The jade, stolen from Whetu’s tribe before their demise to the raging waves, glowed faintly in its compartment on the ship’s console, its protective energy shielding the vessel from the worst of the tempest. Jack gripped the handrail for support, his geta slipping slightly on the wet deck as the pounding winds howled around them, rain lashing his face, ocean debris, seaweed, driftwood, even a stray crab swirling in the chaos. His gi was still stained with grime, blue blood from Ari’s experiments, and chemical spills, his hands reddened and raw from the burns, his wild hair whipping in the gale.

Ami stood at the helm, her pink jacket glistening in the rain, a manic grin on her face as she steered the ship with reckless abandon, clearly having too much fun with the storm.

“Woo! Now this is an adventure!” she shouted over the wind, her laughter trailing from the vessel as she fiddled with the high-tech controls, the holographic display flickering in the downpour. The pounamu’s jade glow pulsed steadily, its energy deflecting a particularly vicious wave that would have capsized the boat, the water parting around them like a miracle.

Jack’s gaze was low, his jaw clenched, his bloodshot eyes burning with a mix of exhaustion and anger as he bit his lip in pure contempt. This… woman, he thought, his mind racing as he glanced at Ami’s smug expression. She isn’t like Ashi. She might—no, she most likely IS Ashi’s identical sister in this timeline… but she’s just… He couldn’t finish the thought, the weight of his disillusionment pressing down on him like the storm itself, his katana sheathed at the hilt of his gi, a silent reminder of the honor he clung to in this twisted world.

The Stormchaser finally broke free of the storm, the gray clouds parting to reveal a calm sea, the sunset shimmering down, casting a faint amber glow on the surface of the ocean. The waters were tranquil now, a stark contrast to the chaos they’d left behind, and the ship sped toward the mainland; destination, Kokuyo No Seiiki.

As they sailed past the area where Whetu’s tribe once stood, the ocean was eerily still, the island now reduced to nothing, a phantasm beneath the waves, its people and culture erased by the destruction Jack and Ami had unwittingly caused.

Ami glanced at the empty expanse of water, her smug grin widening, her teeth gleaming with cruel satisfaction. 

“Heh… Fools really didn’t know what’s coming." 

Her voice dipped with contemptuous mockery as she leaned back in the driver’s seat, one hand on the controls, the other twirling a strand of her hair.

Jack’s gaze remained low, his hands tightening on the handrail, his anger simmering just beneath the surface. He wanted to lash out, to demand answers, but he held his tongue, his stone-faced expression masking the storm of emotions within.

Ami turned to him, her pink irises gleaming menacingly as she fiddled with the controls, the holographic display showing their speed, blisteringly fast for the small size of the boat they were on.

“Oi, Big Guy,” she said, her tone teasing as she laughed boisterously, the sound grating on Jack’s nerves

“You look tired. What’s the issue? The adventure was fun, wasn’t it?”

Jack didn’t respond, his stone-faced expression unwavering, his hand resting on the hilt of his katana, the urge to speak his mind burning in his chest. I’m tired of you, he thought, fighting the impulse to say it aloud as they drifted through the calm waters, the sunset’s amber glow reflecting in his bloodshot eyes.

Ami yawned, stretching her arms above her head, her ballerina flats tapping on the deck. “Fuck… at the speed we’re going…”
Her voice trailed off as she peeked past the sharp edge of the bow, calculating their journey. “It’ll take us about seven and a half hours to get back to the mainland,” she finished, yawning again as she tried to steel herself for the long trip ahead.

As she guided the Stormchaser through the waves, her thoughts turned inward, a sly grin spreading across her face as she glanced back at Jack, who had slumped down behind her, his gi stained with faint blue splotches, coated in sweat, his wild hair disheveled and falling past his chiseled face as he drifted into an exhausted sleep.

He asked me a few times”… she thought, memories flashing through her mind: Jack at her warehouse in E-273, unlocking the keypad to access the compound; Jack at the bar, dismissed by Ashi as she arrested the alien-man; Jack on Ari’s island, anguished and in pain, unable to save the experiments or Ari herself.

. “ …what he didn’t understand about this world, that I did.”

Ami giggled under her breath, her pink eyes rolling disinterestedly as she charted their course for E-273.

“Yeah. I can sense that he doesn’t like me,” she thought, shrugging to herself as the boat sped on.

“Well, I hope he has fun later on his own. If my prediction is correct, I feel that…”

She glanced back at the sleeping Samurai one last time, his hair falling around his face, his body slumped against the deck, the energy having long since drained from his body.

“...he’ll request to be left alone after this.”

“And of course, I’ll gladly oblige.”


Deep beneath the rubble of her ravaged laboratory, Ari coughed weakly, her broken arm throbbing as she tried to clear the rocks and dust from the destroyed area.

“Kahk…!!! This is too much… it’s way too much for me to clear up… with my broken arm. Shit…” she hissed, slumping to the cracked linoleum floor, her white lab coat stained with blood and grime, her disheveled hair tangled around her face.

She barely managed to lift a large rock chunk before it could smash into her, the effort sending a jolt of pain through her body as she collapsed, her back against the floor.

“Oh, in the name of Lord Aku, what happened here?” a high-pitched, cheery voice called out from behind her, echoing through the ruins of the lab. Three figures emerged from a deeper chamber, their yellow eyes glowing faintly in the dim light as they took in the destruction—the shattered confinement areas, the sparking remains of the cochlea-shaped machine, the debris littering the floor.

Ari turned her head weakly, her sapphire eyes dim with exhaustion, and saw them: a small pack of three upright anthropomorphic dogs, their coats of fur shimmering faintly in shades of black, yellow and blue, their yellow eyes wide with concern.

“Lady Ari, might you be needing our assistance, perhaps?” the lead dog asked, his voice bright despite the grim scene, his small paws already moving to help.

Ari’s gaze softened slightly, a faint smile tugging at her bloodied lips as the dogs approached. One supported her front, another lifted her legs, and the third quickly fashioned a splint from wooden debris near a crumbling section of the upper chamber, wrapping it around her destroyed right arm. Together, they carried her down to the lower levels of the island, a hidden medical bay, walls reinforced with dark, puffy padding to absorb sound, reserved for “emergencies”.

Ari’s eyes dimmed further as she lost consciousness, her body going limp in their care.

“Tired… tired… I’ll… rest for a bit. Much… appreciated… Rothchild,” she murmured, her voice fading as the dogs barked softly, their movements efficient as they placed an oxygen mask over her face in the small, sterile space below.

Ari exhaled softly, a sense of ease washing over her for the first time since the lab’s collapse. “Heh…” she whispered, her sapphire eyes closing as she drifted into a healing sleep on the rickety operating table, the faint hum of the medical equipment a comforting sound in the darkness.


Ashi stepped off Seishi’s speedboat at Bhumanagara’s main port, Svargadwara, the bustling dock alive with activity. Merchants called out their wares, colorful silks, spices, and jewelry, while fishmongers hawked their catches: squid, fish, clams, all glistening in the morning sun. Goods were being stocked on ships, blue and black banners featuring looming silhouettes of her father fluttering from every stall, the gentle breeze infused with the scent of turmeric, cardamom, and sea salt. The port was a vibrant tapestry of culture, with rolling hills visible in the distance, their green slopes dotted with ancient temples now repurposed for Aku’s worship.

Ashi swiped a card emotionlessly on the boat’s scanner, her green eyes cold and unyielding as she stepped onto the dock, her black cloak swishing in the warm breeze. Seishi’s face dropped, his tiny, phallic head tilting in disappointment. “Aw, no thanks?” he asked, his high-pitched voice tinged with hope.

Ashi didn’t even glance back.

“My gratitude is in the payment I give you.”

She sauntered away, her cloak billowing behind her, the rhythmic clicks of her heeled boots echoing on the wooden planks.

Seishi scratched his small head with his spindly arms, a wry smile spreading across his face.

“Well, wow! Such attitude from the Young Priestess of the Global Order… Aha! I may look like a dick, but she for sure acts like one. We complement each other!”he chuckled, humming a jolly tune as he U-turned his boat out of the port and sped off toward an unknown destination, his yellow tie flapping in the wind.

Ashi checked her smartphone again, her green eyes narrowing as she scrolled through her messages—or lack thereof. No sign of messages from Aku, High Priestess Azumi, her mother, or any of their forces or informants. She sighed, a quiet exhale that carried the weight of her unease, her fingers tightening around the phone as she slipped it back into her catsuit.

The people of Svargadwara immediately noticed her, their eyes widening in recognition, a mix of awe and fear crossing their faces as they bowed in surprise. “Dear Young Priestess of the Global Order, what can we do for you?” a man called out, his voice trembling slightly as he adjusted his turban, his hands clasped in respect.

“Yes… greetings! Heh heh…” a four-eyed alien woman with a child stammered, her lip trembling, her child clinging to her leg as if hoping to be spared from Ashi’s attention.

“Can I have your autograph?” a kid in a sleek gray, long sleeved shirt and massive pants asked, his eyes bright with excitement as he ran up to her with a pen and paper.

Ashi signed it tritely, her expression blank, not caring in the slightest as the kid’s eyes lit up.

“Waooooooh!” he exclaimed, clutching the paper as he skipped back through the marketplace adjacent to the docks, Ashi’s gaze drifting to the rolling hills in the distance.

“Young Priestess, where would you like to go?’ A voice, oily with obsequiousness, sliced through the humid air, followed by a raucous wave of others. A cacophony of competing cries erupted: merchants hawking their wares with desperate enthusiasm, locals showering her with saccharine praise, some even daring to reach out, their grasping hands attempting to steer her towards their cluttered stalls or gaudy temples. The haphazard throng pressed in, a suffocating wave of bodies and insistent voices, fueling Ashi’s internal frustration. Her gloved hand tightened on the smooth fabric of her black cloak, a futile attempt to maintain a semblance of order amidst the chaos, as she rolled her emerald eyes skyward, her patience fraying like a worn thread in the face of this relentless barrage.

Then, without warning, relief from the chaos of the crowd came as she caught sight of someone—an elephant-like humanoid, his gray skin adorned with red and yellow bangles, dressed in a red short shirt and ornate long pants, his trunk raised as he waved to her, winking with a knowing glint in his eyes. He snapped his fingers, his voice booming over the crowd.


“Disperse!”


The command, loud and immediate, instantly shifted the entire atmosphere of the crowd gathered near the Young Priestess, and the people scattered instantly, bowing and retreating as they whispered among themselves.

“Greetings, Young Priestess, I’m Devansh. Nice to meet you,” he said, his tone warm but authoritative as he beckoned her toward a sleek hovercar parked nearby, its black-and-orange design marking it as one of Aku’s vehicles.

“Lord Aku’s sent me to pick you up.”

Ashi nodded silently, her green eyes lowering as she followed him to the hovercar. The crowd surged behind her, their voices rising in a frenzy, but she shut the door quickly, narrowly avoiding a four-eyed alien dude with glasses who tried to slip in with her, his slow reflexes no match for her speed.

The hovercar hummed to life, and Devansh drove off, the port fading into the distance as Ashi’s gaze remained fixed on the floor, her thoughts a tangled mess of duty and doubt.

Chapter 22: CXXII

Chapter Text

 










The Samurai’s eyes fluttered open, heavy with exhaustion, his body slumped against the damp deck of the Stormchaser . Seawater dripped from his lips as he coughed, spitting out the salty taste, his hands trembling as he pushed himself up, the crisp ocean winds stinging his face. The boat rocked gently beneath him, slowing down as the coastline of E-273 came into view—a rugged stretch of sandbank lined with dense jungle trees, far from the hustle and bustle of the northern smugglers’ port they’d departed from. His gi was in tatters, stained with blue splotches from Ari’s experiments, his hands raw from chemical burns, his wild hair disheveled and falling across his chiseled face.

“Ami…” Jack gasped, his voice barely above a whisper as he steadied himself against the railing, his bloodshot eyes scanning the deck.

Ami stood at the helm, her eyes glinting with mischief as she adjusted her muted pink jacket over her black tank top, dusting sand off her ballerina flats with a casual flick of her hand. “We’re back, Samurai,” she said, her tone teasing as she flashed him a grin, her pink irises gleaming in the early morning light.

The weary warrior said nothing, his expression darkening like the storms they had departed hours earlier, his hands tightening on the railing as the boat came to an abrupt halt with a soft bump, the bow settling into the shallow sandbank.

Ami stepped off the Stormchaser , stretching her arms above her head as she took a deep breath of the crisp beach air, the coastline’s jungle trees swaying gently in the breeze.

“Ah… this is great,” she said, her voice light as she glanced at her smartphone, it’s screen automatically adjusting itself to the brightness level. “Heh… they should be here soon…”

She froze, feeling an ominous presence looming behind her, the air suddenly heavy with tension.

Turning her head slowly, she met Jack’s gaze with a disinterested, almost bored look, her pink eyes narrowing as he towered over her, his bloodshot eyes burning with a mix of anger and jadedness, his gi in horrible condition, a scowl etched into his sharp features.

“Ami,” Jack said, his voice low and deliberate as he took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling with the weight of his words.

Ami furrowed her brows, her lip curling upward in a defensive, malicious posture. “…Yes? Samurai?” she replied, her tone sharp, her body tensing as if ready for a fight.

Jack’s eyes narrowed, his voice steady but laced with frustration. “Ever since I’ve arrived… you’ve been just… suspicious.”

He began to list her actions, each memory fueling his anger.

The alleyway where he first found her, shoving the taffy into the green tiger man’s mouth as an act of revenge against the gangster who stole her money.

The warehouse, where she had made fun of him while giving him his fake IDs. 

The bar where she prevented him from talking to Ashi’s incarnation in this timeline, dismissing his need for answers.

The deception with Chief Whetu, declaring herself an envoy of Aku to gain favor, only to sink their island by stealing the pounamu jade, leaving their people to drown.

All of those instances are just the tip of the iceberg but…”

Jack loomed closer, his eyes radiating disappointment and absolute jadedness, his voice dropping to a near whisper.

It seems as if you are hiding something from me, which is your choice.”

He turned away abruptly, his geta trudging into the sand as he walked in the opposite direction from Ami, his broad shoulders tense, his katana sheathed at his side.

“I too, have made mine,” he said, his voice firm, the finality of his decision hanging in the air like a storm cloud.

Ami watched him go, her gaze softening into something more unamused and bored, her pink eyes glinting with a mix of irritation and indifference.

“Haaaaa…” she exhaled, a long, breathy, exasperated sigh, before turning the other way and walking in the opposite direction, her flats leaving faint prints in the sand.

“I have other things to do at the moment… can’t listen to some melodrama from that big liability… shit,” she muttered under her breath, her voice dripping with disdain as she disappeared into the jungle trees, heading toward the neon glow of E-273 in the distance.

Jack continued walking along the beach, the waves lapping gently at the shore, his thoughts a storm of unease as he reflected on Ami’s unsettling behavior.
He remembered the incident on the beach before they’d left for the northern port, where she’d killed the mutant crustaceans with a gleeful cruelty, enjoying their suffering; the way she’d nonchalantly subjugated people throughout their journey—showing Aisha, Da Samoorai’s daughter in this timeline, evidence of her corruption in front of the dilapidated warehouse, bringing her to her knees and shattering her credibility in E-273’s police force; the way she’d conned Kael, the elephant captain of the Stormchaser , who later died to the rabid blue sapphire seals that attacked them on the journey; and the brutal way she’d mauled Ari, showing no remorse for the destruction they’d caused.

Jack sighed, swishing a lock of his long, wild hair from his jawline as he trudged further into the distance, the jungle trees casting long shadows over the sand.

“I have a bad feeling about her,” he thought, his heart heavy with the weight of his decision.

“I think it’s right not to get involved with her anymore.”


Ami perched on a large rock overlooking the horizon, the crisp blue skies stretching endlessly above her, the damp dawn air brushing against her skin as birds and seagulls cawed overhead, the waves crashing gently on the beach below. She glanced at her smartphone, her pink eyes narrowing as she checked the battery.

"I knew it. Silly samurai." 

She slouched against the giant stone's face, staring out at the sun with one arm on her knee, absent-mindedly shaking her leg.


"He won't last with that kind of shitty mentality." 

"Ha." 

An exhale of resigned malice escaped her lips almost involuntarily. She gazed at the sun, slowly arching over the horizon, bringing light to where there had once been darkness, brushing a lock of stray hair out of her forehead. 

"He'd never go along with the world's plans anyway." 

Out of boredom, she dipped her head, and out of her pocket slipped her phone, cleanly into her hands. Tapping the screen to check if there was anything, she whistled a faux merry tune whilst anticipating at least something to happen. 

There was nothing.


“Fuck… 20%… shit…” she cackled, her voice light with amusement despite the inconvenience.

“Forgot to bring a power bank… oh well!” She shrugged, guffawing to herself as she leaned back against the rock.

“Welp… gotta get back to—ah?”

Her phone buzzed with an incoming call, the screen lighting up with a distorted holographic display. Ami rolled her eyes, her expression one of mild irritation. “This better be fucking important… fucking sshibals …” she muttered, brushing sweaty locks of hair from her forehead, leaving her fringe messy as she answered the call. “Yes… hello?”

The caller’s voice crackled through the speaker, urgent but professional. Ami listened, her tone casual but businesslike.

“Mmm… yes… yes, of course. I’ll transfer you guys the 40K when I get back to E-346… Geumhwangdo. Heh, yeah, don’t worry, I’ll settle it,” she said, her voice dripping with confidence.

“Oh, Kael? Oh. Right. Uh, yeah. He’s not around to collect it, of course.”

She cackled under her breath, her pink eyes glinting with a dark amusement as the caller responded with a shocked tone. “He died… dude.”

“Kekekekeke… Ahahahaha…” was her enigmatic response, her disinterested laugh echoing over the sound of the waves.

“You gotta cross him off the list. Oh, and compensate his relatives if he’s got those, with insurance or some shit. Maybe.”

Ami let the caller respond, her expression bored as she leaned further back against the rock, her flats dangling over the edge.
“Sure, sure. Okay. Any other news?” she asked, her tone impatient as she tapped her fingers against the stone.

The caller’s voice dropped to a hushed whisper, and Ami’s eyes widened, a devious, Grinch-like grin slowly creeping across her face as she absorbed the information.

“You mean to tell me… you think there’s some funky shit going on in that part of the world?” She said, her voice dripping with glee as she put a hand to her chin, letting the caller continue, their tone growing even more hushed.

“The fuck? That area’s a no man’s land. Who lives there? Why is there…” Ami trailed off, her lip slightly ajar as the caller elaborated, their voice struggling to convey the information smoothly. 


“Entities? Ghosts?” she asked, her curiosity piqued.

"A corpse…?

She pursed her lips, mischievous intrigue building inside her heart, as the caller revealed the location. “What’s the place’s name… Bagong… what…” she said, her face grimacing as she hissed into the phone.

“Say the fucking name clearly, bozo. My phone’s gonna run out of battery. Agh… you know what…”

She opened a notepad app on her phone, putting the caller on speaker as they slowed down and read the name clearly. “Bagong… N… i… n… g… n… i… n… g. Or... l-i-w-a-n-a-g” she typed, her fingers tapping rapidly on the screen. A wave of realization dawned over her as the caller provided more details.

“Oh, isn’t this E-293? Oh, the numbering was changed? To what? E-877? Okay.”

Ami nodded, her grin growing as she typed more notes.

“Outskirts… a village… tropical… potential faith anomalies there…” she muttered, her voice low as the caller confirmed the information. “So that’s it?” she asked, her tone sharp.

The caller seemed to say yes, and Ami’s grin widened. “Right. I’ll investigate it myself… sure. Yes. If your representative is good, I’ll meet him in E-877 for the cash payout,” she said, ending the call with a beep, the holographic display flickering off as her phone’s battery dropped to 19%.

She hopped off the rock, her flats landing softly in the sand as she headed toward the direction of Megalopolis E-273, the thin veil of jungle trees parting to reveal the bustling metropolis in the distance.

“Gotta book a hotel room for the night… then tomorrow I’ll head to the northeastern port… and charter a ship that’ll take me down to 877. Heh,” she mused aloud, her voice tinged with excitement as she walked off, her pink jacket catching the morning light.

“And if it is her, I’ll have a new asset in my portfolio. Oh boy,” she added, her grin turning wicked as she disappeared into the jungle, her thoughts already on the journey ahead, and the mysterious anomalies in this new unfamiliar city. 




The previous night, Ashi and Devansh had driven through the bustling streets of Bhumanagara, on their way to find out and quash the infidels that so dared to question Aku’s rule. The city was vibrant, bustling and most importantly, virtually fully devoted—golden temples now adorned with Aku’s red-orange statues, markets with neon signs, and citizens who had been eager to get Ashi’s autograph at the port, recognizing her as Aku’s priestess. Devansh, the elephantoid stone golem, had quickly ushered her into the hovercar to avoid the crowd, his gray stone skin etched with cracks, his red and yellow bangles clinking as he drove.

The dusky evening light cast long shadows over Bhumanagara’s streets. The scent of turmeric, cardamom, and street foods filled the air with tantalising scents. Vendors sold spicy pakoras, grilled corn smeared with chili-lime paste, and sweet jalebis dripping with syrup. Stalls overflowed with wares: intricately painted pottery, vibrant fabrics in shades of saffron and indigo, and brass idols of forgotten deities now relegated to dusty corners. Towering construction cranes loomed in the distance, their skeletal frames silhouetted against the orange sky, as new buildings covered in scaffolding rose above the city’s generally suburban, rural-ish landscape, a sign of rapid modernisation.

Devansh gestured out the hovercar’s window, his deep voice steady as he spoke.


“Look outside, Young Priestess. See how much Subhadayaka Deva’s rule has improved the citizens’ lives.”

He pointed to a group of children playing near a newly built school, their laughter echoing through the streets, and then to a farmer unloading a cart of plump, golden mangoes, the result of improved crop yields.

“His forces have been actively helping us, building houses, schools, roads, installing telecommunications infrastructure. Bhumanagara is becoming an up-and-coming city under his guidance.”

Ashi watched the scenes unfold, her green eyes taking in the bustling streets, but a flicker of unease stirred in the back of her throat. She forced a smile, her voice tinged with uncertainty. “So… haha, I understand that my father’s rule has been a benefit for you guys?”

Devansh nodded vehemently, his elephant trunk swishing with the movement in the cool air of the hovercar. “Yes, Young Priestess. The progress that has been made over these past five years that Subhadayaka Deva has ruled over us—it’s undeniable.”

He gestured to a newly paved road lined with solar-powered streetlights, a stark contrast to the muddy paths Ashi had seen in other regions.

“We’re still allowed to keep our traditions, but the Lord of the Global Order has brought us prosperity we never thought possible.”

As they drove, Ashi noticed the remnants of Bhumanagara’s past—ancient stone idols of humanoid and non-human figures, presumably old gods, being torn down by Aku’s beetle bots. Workers in orange uniforms replaced them with statues of Aku, his six-horned visage unmistakable, his fiery eyes glowing ominously even in the evening light. One statue, larger than the rest, stood at the center of a busy intersection, its base adorned with marigold garlands and offerings of rice and coconuts, a testament to the citizens’ unwavering devotion for their lord. Ashi’s unease grew, her fingers tightening on the edge of her black cloak, but she said nothing, her mind racing with questions she couldn’t yet voice.

After a while, Devansh turned the hovercar toward a bustling temple, its rugged elliptical dome rising above the surrounding buildings, scaffolding on its sides indicating ongoing renovations. He parked the hovercar and gestured for Ashi to step out. She smoothed down her black cloak, her green eyes scanning the temple’s entrance—a grand archway carved with intricate lotus motifs, now partially defaced with Aku’s red-orange insignia.

Devansh led her inside, through the dimly lit hall of the holy building, and into the temple’s innermost sanctum. The air was heavy with the scent of incense, oil lamps resembling diyas casting flickering golden light across the room. At the center stood a small statue of Aku, no bigger than 60 centimeters, carved from black stone. The statue wore a dhoti—a traditional fabric wrapped around its waist—and was draped with garlands of marigolds and jasmine. Offerings surrounded it: rice grains, a halved coconut, a smear of ghee, and calamansi leaves, their citrusy scent mingling with the smoke of the lamps. A small group of worshippers had just finished a ritual offering things to the little effigy of the demon, their chants still echoing faintly as they left the sanctum.

Devansh gestured to the statue, his voice reverent.

“This is the main room of this specific temple, where Deva Aku’s visage lies. All he asks for prosperity is our faith, which the inhabitants of Bhumanagara so willingly give to him. His presence here has brought us economic growth, social progress, and a better quality of life.”

Ashi stared at the statue, its glowing eyes seeming to pierce through her with cold indifference, a stark contrast to the warm light of the oil lamps, flickering eerily in the dark, lofty walls of the temple. Her voice was quiet, almost hesitant.

“I… see. I didn’t know my father was so well admired in this part of the world.”

Devansh shrugged, adjusting his white collared shirt, his red short shirt underneath peeking out as he moved.
“Well, of course Young Priestess. He is. The other alternatives would have been…”

He paused, his stone face darkening as memories flooded back.

 Long droughts that withered crops, harsh monsoons that flooded villages, and unbearable heatwaves that left the elderly gasping for breath. As a fledgeling stone golem, carved diligently by others in the likeness of an elephant, he’d heard the wails of frustration from his community, their prayers to the old deities of the land going unanswered, as if the gods had abandoned them.

“...less than ideal,” he finished, his voice heavy with the weight of those years.

Ashi nodded, her green eyes still fixed on the statue, the flicker of unease in her throat growing into a quiet knot. Devansh beckoned for her to leave the sanctum respectfully, and they both bowed to the idol of Aku, the glowing eyes watching them as they exited the garbhagriha and stepped back into the evening air.

They returned to the hovercar, the hum of the engine filling the silence as they drove off. Ashi glanced out the window, her thoughts spiraling, when she spoke up, her voice tentative. “But there weren’t… well, many citizens inside the temple…”

Devansh chuckled, his trunk swishing lightly, his bangles jingling gently with the fluid movements of his hands, almost akin to that of molten lava flowing down a rugged mountainside.

“Oh, we came at a good time, after the puja rituals to Lord Aku’s visage had finished. If we had been there maybe one or two hours ago– haha! We would have never even been able to get inside. The temple would have been packed with devotees.”

Ashi nodded, her fingers tracing the edge of her cloak as she processed his words. “So… where to next?” she asked, her tone more guarded than before.

Devansh’s expression turned serious, his stone hands tightening on the hovercar’s controls.

“Oh, right, yes. Lord Aku contacted me earlier to ask for your help in… well… snuffing out the disbelievers in this region.”

His voice carried a weight that made Ashi’s stomach twist, her unease now a tangible presence as she realized what her mission would entail.


Devansh steered the sleek hovercar away from the serene stillness of the temple, plunging them back into the vibrant chaos of Bhumanagara's evening. The city pulsed with a life of its own, a symphony of honking vehicles and chattering crowds. Streetlights bloomed in the twilight, painting the bustling avenues in hues of amber and sapphire as vendors, their day's trade winding down, swiftly dismantled their colorful stalls. Citizens, a river of faces and hurried footsteps, flowed homeward, their conversations echoing in the cooling air.

A short glide later, a jarring splash of neon assaulted their senses. The "Golden Lotus Inn - Svarnapadma Avasah" loomed before them, its slightly arched entrance framed by aggressively cheerful gold trim that seemed to scream for attention. Flickering holographic signs, depicting stylized golden lotuses, danced erratically above the doorway, casting an unsteady glow.

Ashi's delicate nose wrinkled, her usually luminous green eyes now sharp with distaste as she surveyed the gaudy spectacle. It was a far cry from the temple's quiet elegance. But Devansh, his broad, stony elephantine face betraying nothing of his own opinion, smoothly parked the hovercar in a designated bay. He turned to Ashi, his large, dark eyes holding a gentle reassurance.

"Well, Young Priestess," his voice a low rumble, "do not fret over the aesthetics. Tonight's lodging is my treat."

Stepping inside was like entering a different world, the air thick with the soothing scent of something vaguely floral. They were greeted by Arun, the inn owner. A human whose once dark hair was now threaded with silver, his smile radiated genuine warmth as he bowed deeply, his hands pressed together in a respectful gesture.

"Young Priestess," Arun's voice held a note of sincere reverence, "it is a profound honor to welcome you." He gestured them towards a creaking wooden staircase, the rhythmic slap of his worn sandals against the polished steps accompanying their ascent.

"Mhm." Ashi's response was a clipped, almost dismissive sound, her gaze flitting around the somewhat cluttered lobby with unconcealed disinterest.

Devansh, ever the diplomat, stepped in to bridge the awkwardness. He ran a heavy, stony hand over his smooth head, the multiple bangles adorning his thick wrist clanking softly, a low, metallic chime in the air. "The day has been long and filled with travel, sir," he explained, his voice calm and measured. "The Young Priestess undoubtedly requires the solace of rest."

"Ah, my deepest apologies then," Arjun murmured, his smile faltering slightly as the sound of their combined footsteps reached the landing above.

"No problem at all, sir," Devansh replied smoothly, his tone reassuring. He paid Arun with a swift tap of a sleek credit chip. The innkeeper then led them down a narrow corridor to their respective rooms. Though modest in size, the rooms were impeccably clean. Each held a simple, neatly made bed, a small window offering a glimpse of the sprawling cityscape, and a subtle, calming fragrance of sandalwood that hinted at a recent cleaning.

Ashi entered her room with a weary sigh, the heavy wooden door clicking shut behind her. The soft glow emanating from a pair of small, intricately carved lamps in the corners cast long, dancing shadows on the walls, a stark contrast to the impenetrable darkness that had enveloped Bhumanagara. Through the thin window panes, the city's nocturnal symphony filtered in – the distant, rhythmic clang of construction, a relentless pulse of progress, and the muffled, discordant murmur of countless lives unfolding below. A wave of something akin to disbelief washed over Ashi. She sank onto the edge of the bed, her voice barely a whisper in the quiet room.

"I... I honestly don't know if I desire this kind of life."


Aku reclined in the plush interior of his limousine hover car, the sleek vehicle speeding through the skies somewhere across the world, its black exterior reflecting the shifting landscapes below, from dense tropical jungles to temperate plains. The interior was a marvel of corporate luxury—black leather seats, holographic displays showing Aku’s empire, and a faint red glow from his essence permeating the space.

He smoothed down his immaculately tailored gray suit and tie, his six horns gleaming as he tapped a finger on his lap, his fiery eyes calm and composed as he dialed The High Priestess, keeping an eye on the alien driver in front of him and the road ahead. 

The call connected almost instantly, Azumi’s voice firm and steadfast on the other end.

“Yes, my lord, I’m travelling as well,” she said, her loyalty to Aku absolute.

Aku’s voice was smooth and calm, a stark contrast to his usual fiery demeanor. “Oh, am I perhaps disturbing you?” he asked, a faint smile playing on his lips as he leaned back in his seat.

“No, my lord,” Azumi replied, her voice resolute. “My focus is on your will and will only.”

Aku’s fanged lips curled slightly, the red hue of his irises pulsing softly as he lounged further back in his seat.

“Oh. Yes. What about…”

He paused—eyes flickering, as if a foul taste had suddenly surfaced in his throat. He brought a hand to his mouth, almost retching as he spat the word with thinly veiled distaste.

“…her. The one who won our favour in this timeline.”

Azumi’s tone remained composed, reverent. “I’m in contact with those monitoring her. Last I saw, she was indeed at E-108… carrying out our plans, as prophesied.”

A long silence hung in the air before Aku finally spoke again, his fangs peeking through a crooked smile.

“Good.”

He turned to glance out the tinted window, the tropical landscape flickering past in streaks of green and gold. His voice softened, becoming almost… tender.

“Remember, it’ll be okay.”

“If she rebels, I have the leash. And thus, the solution.”

“Right.” Was the stoic, robot-like response from The High Priestess. 

Aku sighed, exhaling a bit in contentment as he spoke, his tone almost affectionate.
“Have you gotten more information on the Samurai and the youngest one?” he asked, his fiery eyes narrowing slightly as he awaited her response.

Azumi’s voice faltered for the first time, a hint of uncertainty creeping in.

“…My apologies, my lord… I really haven’t,” she admitted, her tone meek and regretful, an uncommon deviation from her usually composed, regal-like behaviour. 

Aku waved a hand dismissively, though she couldn’t see it.

“Not a problem, my dear Azumi,” he said, his voice reassuring as he tapped his finger on his lap again, the holographic displays in front of him flickering with data on his empire.

“I’ve been patient with them, as per your request,” Azumi added, her voice uncertain as she braced for his reaction.

Aku’s smile widened, his tone remaining calm. “Well, you see, I received a report this afternoon that the sapphire-eyed one’s base was broken into… so I was wondering if you knew of it as well,” he said, his voice deceptively casual as he referenced Ari’s lab, destroyed by the samurai and the one he’d called ‘overly ambitious.’

Azumi’s voice recoiled in shock, a rare crack in her composed facade.

“M-my lord… that’s…” she stammered, her mind racing as she realized her oversight, her failure to monitor Ari’s activities a glaring mistake.

Aku shushed her, his voice soothing but firm. “Now, now, woman, it's not your fault, don’t panic,” he said, letting a few chuckles escape from his nose.

“That sapphire-eyed one wasn’t necessarily THAT relevant to my plans anyway. Remember, she is just…”

His thoughts drifted, memories coursing through his veins from the erased timeline, in an abandoned graveyard where he faced Jack and Ashi


The Shogun of Sorrows had sniffed Ashi, sensing his essence within her, declaring, “This girl has my essence inside her!” He recalled visiting the Daughters of Aku cult in the mountains, giving a cup of his essence to the High Priestess’s previous incarnation, who drank it and became pregnant with the seven daughters, including Ashi, whom he later corrupted grotesquely, using her to torment Jack.

“…another daughter of ours,” Aku finished, his voice low and deliberate, his fiery eyes glowing with a mix of nostalgia and calculation as he returned to the present.

Azumi’s voice steadied on the other end, her loyalty unwavering despite her earlier shock.

“What’s next, then, my lord?” she asked, her tone resolute once more.

Aku straightened his six horns, his grin widening as he spoke.

“Well… while neither the Samurai and the ‘overly ambitious’ one are dangers to my rule—believe me, I could have them eliminated at the snap of a finger if I wanted to…” he said, menace seeping further into every word he spoke. He snapped his fingers for emphasis, a faint spark of blue energy crackling in the air.

He paused, his grin turning wicked.

“I still believe we both should keep tabs on them. After all, we don’t want them getting too rowdy, don’t we…?” he added, his voice dripping with amusement as he leaned back in his seat.

Azumi voiced a resolute agreement. “Yes, I’ll see how we can do that. My lord, anything else?” she asked, always at the ready to execute his will.

Aku smiled, his fiery eyes softening slightly. “No pressure, my dear Priestess. Again… they are zero threat. Neither me, nor you will be able to be physically harmed by them. You may hang up now,” he said, his voice calm but final.

“It was my pleasure talking to you, my lord,” Azumi replied, her voice steady as the call ended with a soft beep, the holographic display in Aku’s limo flickering off.

Aku put down the phone, his gaze shifting to the alien driver seated in front of him, a four-armed humanoid with green skin, driving the limo hovercar through the skies. The dense tropical humid landscape below had slowly given way to temperate climates, rolling hills, and forests stretching out beneath them. Aku leaned back, his fiery eyes distant as he reminisced, his voice a low murmur.

“Hm… of course… There were at least two daughters that I had to, well, bring back into line with my plans. I could do it again, and very easily too,” he said, rubbing his warped fingers together like the spines of a mantis's front legs. 

He shook his head in satisfaction, his 6 horns seeming to creak and groan with the movement, and refocused himself, adjusting his position in the back of his limousine, his mind already turning to the next phase of his plans.

Chapter 23: CXXIII

Chapter Text




The fading dusk gave way to the early morning light as Ami emerged from the thin, dense jungle cover bordering the beach where she and Jack had parted ways, the first hints of dawn painting the sky in shades of orange and pink.


The sand crunched under her ballerina flats, giving way to pavement lined with cherry trees as the suburban semi-detached houses of E-273’s outskirts sprawled into the towering metropolis. Hovercars hummed in the distance, their neon lights flickering to life as the city woke up, a stark contrast to the quiet beach she’d left behind.

Ami closed her eyes for a moment, the crisp morning air brushing against her face, her pink jacket catching the first rays of sunlight. Her irises glinted with a mix of indifference and schadenfreude as she remembered the sheer whiplash she’d caused Jack—the Samurai—when they met in that dark alleyway.

Ah, Samurai… she thought, a smirk tugging at her lips. She pulled out her phone, checking the directions to her next destination.

“I know that he’s going to have a hard time adapting to this new future,” she muttered, grinning to herself as she walked onward, past a row of houses where kids—human, anthropomorphic animals, and aliens alike—played in the early morning light, some kicking a ball, others chasing each other with toy blasters. 

Her gaze lowered, a soft smile playing on her lips.

“You know…” she whispered, her voice trailing off as memories of an erased timeline flooded her mind.

In a flash, she saw herself in a black suit made of soot and ash, wielding a katana, her blade sinking into the bearded, jaded Samurai who’d lost his suit and armor. The fortress around them was crumbling, the air thick with the scent of blood and smoke. Jack’s eyes had widened in shock, but he’d swiped her weapon in a desperate move, slashing her neck. Her vision had faded to black, blood trailing from her wound, as the thunderous footsteps of her six identical septuplets echoed in the distance, their masked forms coated in black as they charged to kill Jack.

Ami’s soul had watched, detached, as her sisters dragged her lifeless body out of the temple, leaving her in a snowy area near a stream, the water gurgling softly as they abandoned her to hunt the Samurai.

All six of them had turned their backs on her corpse as they slunk deeper into the forest, their voices cold and unified. 

“Death is failure.”


The memory faded, and Ami found herself snapping back to reality, the hum of distant skyscrapers being constructed roaring in the distance, a testament to Aku’s so-called benevolence in this timeline.

A small exhale, contemptuous and venomous escaped her lips as she walked onward, the city growing more urbanised around her—neon billboards flashed with advertisements for cosmetic products, fancy tech gadgets, and furniture deals, while hovercars zipped overhead.

“So… death is failure, huh. That’s what they all said,” she muttered, pausing to take a deep breath of the crisp air.

She brisk-walked faster, passing the hovertrain station where she and Jack had disembarked the previous day, her pace quickening with purpose.

“Well… I hope that samurai realises that the real failure was the fact that he thought his quest was over.”

Ami smirked, her voice dripping with mockery.

“Heh, this fucker’s so lucky… I could have taken away his ability to live… like the credit cards I gave him along with the fake IDs… but…”

She laughed to herself, her tone softening with faux sweetness.

“I’m so kind, aren’t I?” Her cackle echoed faintly as she navigated an app on her phone with a flurry of hand gestures, intent on making a reservation at Shuitsu, a nearby hotel chain.
In her mind, the name Shuitsu stuck; she knew that had once been privately owned, but as of recent, Lord Aku’s investment group had poured money into it, granting licenses to operate in this city as part of his broader control over the world.

“Yeah… I’d like to make a reservation at your branch here, is that cool?” Ami said into her phone, nodding as she walked deeper into the concrete labyrinths of E-273.

The streets grew busier—people on their phones, listening to music or podcasts, rode electric scooters, while hovercars flew left and center, their engines humming in sync with the city’s pulse.
“Okay… 14th floor… room 378… 2000 credits a night… okay. Great. Sure. I’ll be there. Don’t worry…” She flicked a button on her phone, shrugging as she pulled her pink jacket’s hoodie over her head. “I’ve already transferred the money as we speak.”

Ami cackled again, her voice tinged with exhaustion.

“Shit… I gotta go take a shower… I can see some others staring at me like I just killed a person…!”

She rounded a corner, taking a shortcut through a less busy part of the city toward the Shuitsu branch, her steps slowing as fatigue set in.

Yawning, she muttered, “Fuck… I haven’t slept. Oh well… when I get to the hotel… heh. Lights out for me!”

As Ami disappeared into the streets of E-273, a young woman watched from a secluded alleyway, her purple hair styled in twin ponytails, her black catsuit blending into the shadows. She crouched behind a dumpster, away from the hustle and bustle of the city, her fingers tightening around a keychain with a turquoise stuffed plush attached to it.

Her violet eyes narrowed as she muttered to herself, “I have to exercise restraint.”

The woman dialed her phone, sending a voice message to an unknown number, her voice strained and hollow.

“Agent K here… High Priestess… she’s back at Metropolis E-273. By your orders… I won’t get into physical conflict with her… unless need be.”

She paused, her gaze fixed on the spot where Ami had disappeared, her expression unreadable.

“I’ll just trail her from the shadows and watch her.


Jack wandered along the deserted beach on the outskirts of E-273, the morning sun climbing higher in the sky, casting long shadows across the sand. His gi was stained with grime, sweat, seawater, and blue essence from the confrontation with Ari in her lab, the fabric clinging to his muscular frame as he shuffled forward, his robust countenance uneasy, his dark eyes itching for answers. The waves lapped gently at the shore, a deceptive calm that belied the chaos of the world around him.

“Why… that time…” Jack muttered, his voice low and strained, as memories flashed through his mind.

He remembered stepping into the abyssal portal two years after defeating Aku in the past, only to find his kingdom in ruins. Aku had returned, summoning an abyssal rift that destroyed his imperial palace, bringing ash and ruin to his people. The demon had taken out 4000 of his bakufu’s men—spears and all—with just his bare fists, a display of raw power that left Jack reeling. “Just… how…” he whispered, gripping his sword tightly, the blade still sheathed at his side.

More memories flooded back—Jack striking at Aku not once, but twice, when the demon returned to ravage his kingdom. Each time, his sacred sword, forged by the gods Odin, Ra, and Rama and bestowed upon his dynasty by his father, the emperor, had failed. Aku had created a cubical, half-translucent blackened shield around himself, deflecting Jack’s blows with ease. Jack’s eyes had widened in horror as he realized the weapon that had once slain Aku was now useless against him. He bit his lip in disbelief, shuffling along the beach, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Aku’s world… how has he come back… why did my sword… not cut him down that time?”

Jack hung his head, his wild hair falling into his face, his voice heavy with despair. “All hope that I had… I went back to the past. And it didn’t change a single thing.” He continued walking, the sand shifting beneath his geta, until he spotted the remains of an old, worn-out shed near the rocky cliffside. Signs of a struggle marked the area—scuff marks in the sand, broken planks scattered around, and faint trails leading up to the cliff, as if people had been dragged away against their will. Jack lowered his gaze, his expression darkening.

“This world… it seems like heaven… but deep underneath, I believe it is anything but that.”

He sighed, looking out toward the blue skies where birds and alien creatures fluttered, their destinations far-off places he could only imagine. Glancing down at his stained gi, he grimaced, the grime and blue essence a stark reminder of his recent battles.

“I… might have to take a shower,” he muttered, his tone resigned. “Hm… but where can I do that?”

On the deserted beach, Jack spotted a futuristic rest stop lavatory area glowing with a neon sign in the daylight. He brisk-walked toward it, his geta leaving faint imprints in the sand, and examined the interface. A digital screen displayed the instructions: “Beach Shower Outlet: New Experimental Technology… To customise water volume, press the plus button… Shower: 5 minutes of consistent running water… 20 credits.”

Jack recoiled slightly, his brow furrowing. “I… don’t have 20 credits,” he muttered, then paused, his hand reaching into his obi.

“Do I…?” He unsheathed a card Ami had given him, its chrome letters emblazoned on the surface, glowing faintly in the morning light.

Sighing, he prepared for the card to fail, remembering how Ami had given him a stack of cards and fake IDs for his protection.
At the smugglers’ docks, when he’d met the now-deceased elephant captain Kael of the Stormchaser , Kael had raised an eyebrow at his ID— Gae Saekki —prompting Ami to laugh hysterically.

Jack swiped the card, bracing for rejection, but to his surprise, a robotic voice chimed, “Transaction Successful, Gae Saekki. You may now use our facilities.”

He rolled his dark eyes, muttering, “Oh, right. That name…” The door slid open with a soft hiss, and Jack stepped inside, hoping nothing else would complicate his day.

The interior was surprisingly modern for a compact space—a shower room with easy-to-understand control knobs and panels, stacked towels on racks, and a futuristic washing machine with a smart screen.

“Place clothes in here… wait 10 minutes for washing and sanitisation, another 10 minutes to dry…”

The exhausted samurai tripped off his stained gi and fundoshi, placing them in the machine, and set the cards Ami had given him on top of the device. Stepping into the shower, his muscular frame relaxed slightly as hot water hit his bare skin. He brushed away locks of his hair, operating the controls, and for the first time in this timeline, he felt oddly refreshed, the water washing away the grime of his recent battles, if not the weight of his despair.

Meanwhile, a human spy with a cyborg eye watched from the shadows of the cliffside, his mechanical eye flashing as he observed Jack

“The subject of observation is back on the outskirts of E-273,” he muttered into a comm device, his voice low and calculating.

“Hm… I don’t know who he is… but he doesn’t look like a threat to Lord Aku to me.” He paused, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Why Aku-sama, praise be to him, wants me to monitor him… I don’t know. But it does make me good money… heh.”


After Ashi and Devansh had taken a short nap at a nearby inn after their tour of the city the previous evening, they had woken up, and together, travelled to the outskirts of Bhumanagara, headed for a small detention centre, apparently having been temporarily constructed to contain people on short notice. The outpost was a squat, concrete structure surrounded by Aku’s beetle bots, their mechanical legs clicking softly as they patrolled the perimeter. The area was marked by defaced statues of old deities, their stone faces chipped and smeared with red-orange paint in Aku’s likeness, a stark reminder of his control.

 

Devansh, the elephantoid stone golem, sat at the wheel, his gray stone skin etched with faint cracks, his red and yellow bangles clinking softly as he drove. His red short shirt and ornate long pants contrasted with his imposing, golem-like frame, his small tusks glinting in the morning light.

“We’re almost at the guard outpost, Young Priestess,” he said, his voice deep and gravelly, his tone respectful but firm.

“Aku has sent us to quash a growing resistance movement. There’s been strange activity in the forests nearby, rumours of a ‘green cow spirit' are drifting around with the winds in these parts. I don’t have the details, but you’ll need to investigate.”

Ashi’s green eyes narrowed as she noticed a beetle bot in action, a small, mechanical insect scanning a farmer who hesitated to bow to a roadside Aku statue.
The bot emitted a high-pitched siren, forcing the farmer to his knees, his hands trembling as he complied. Devansh glanced at the scene, his expression neutral. “Aku’s surveillance drones,” he explained, his tone matter-of-fact. “They’re designed to keep the citizens safe by walling them in and reporting dissent.”

Ashi bit her lip as she furrowed her eyebrows, her unease growing as she watched the bot enforce Aku’s control through fear, from the comfort of the velvet fabric of the hovercar.

Is this… what father promised, she thought, for a brief moment, her hands clenching into fists in her lap.



“I’ll check our hovercar’s battery first,” said Devansh, as he effortlessly heaved open the hovercar’s hood to check the internals of the engine. “I need to make sure nothing’s wrong with it. You go inside first.”

Ashi nodded, smoothing her hairdo to a curled tip. Without hesitation, she brought a card out from her pocket, and, letting the beetle bots crawl closer, the lasers in their eyes scanning it diligently for any sign of forgery.

“Identity Verified. You may go in, Young Priestess.” , a beetle bot monotonously recited.

Ashi simply nodded, and without hesitation, sauntered past the wall of beetle bots, her boots audibly squelching into the damp mud as she sauntered over to the door of this small structure… and slid it open.

With a heaving creak, the steel-and-wood door opened, and Ashi’s face slightly contorted with surprise as she saw the captive she needed to interview. A rebel awaited interrogation, inside the dim light of the room’s single lamp swaying gently from the ceiling, a dark-skinned human woman, her hooded cloak adorned with intricate gold embroidery, her face defiant despite the chains binding her wrists.

Ashi entered the interrogation room, her black catsuit and cloak swishing as she moved, her kusarigama gleaming at her hip. Anjana looked up, her brown eyes burning with defiance as she spat on the floor.

“Name?” Ashi said, her voice like an icy blast cutting through the heat and humidity of Bhumanagara’s climate.

“A-Anjana.” The woman stammered, nervously fidgeting with her hands, yet defiantly staring at Ashi from across the decrepit table inside the little fortified ramshackle structure that had been made to house her.

“Tell me what you know about this little rebellion of yours that I’ve been hearing about from you.” Ashi exhaled, furrowing her eyebrows, her green irises glinting with malice as she gritted her teeth slightly, looking at the pointless defiance of the woman.”

“Why should I tell you…” Muttered Anjana under her breath as she shifted her bare foot off the floor, having been jumpscared internally by a cockroach crawling onto it.

Ashi’s tone became more confrontational as she spoke: “I think it’s in your best interest to spill the proverbial beans, woman.” Her face was now mere inches away from Anjana’s, a scowl of scorn and contempt etched onto her visage as Anjana continued her defiant posture, unwilling to divulge any information about whatever could have been happening away from Lord Aku’s gaze.


“I won’t talk, Priestess,” she said, her voice steady despite the bruises on her face, evidence of the beetle bots’s’ earlier attempts to break her.

Ashi’s gait was stoic, statue-like as she stepped closer, her enforcer skills on full display.

Cold, efficient, and ruthless

She unwound her kusarigama, the chain clinking ominously as she circled Anjana, her voice low and menacing.

“Here’s  the deal… my assistant here had declared to me earlier, that you were caught distributing anti-Aku propaganda,” she said “And also, being uncooperative when questioned and captured, and even trying to rebel openly against an officer who was part of Aku’s forces in the region.”


“Tell me what you know about the resistance in the forests, or I’ll make this much worse for you.” Ashi slammed her palms on the table, her gaze as piercing as the blade of a kirpan sinking into raw, unprotected flesh. 

Anjana spat again, her defiance unwavering. “You’ll see the truth soon enough, Priestess. The old gods still live in the forests!” she said, her voice rising with conviction, her eyes blazing with a mix of fear and hope.

“You absolute heretic.”

Ashi’s rage flared at the defiance, her green eyes narrowing as she struck Anjana with the blunt end of her kusarigama, the blow harder than necessary. Anjana cried out, collapsing to the floor, blood trickling from her temple as she fell unconscious, her body limp in the chains.

“Urgh…”

Ashi stepped back, her hands trembling slightly, a flicker of doubt crossing her face as she stared at the bloodied rebel. What… am I even doing..? she thought, her heart pounding with a mix of anger and guilt.

Devansh entered the room, his stone face unreadable as he looked at Anjana’s unconscious form. “The rebel’s words point to the ‘green cow spirit’ in the jungle,” he said, his voice steady. “The resistance must be gathering there. You should investigate, Young Priestess.”

Ashi’s nod was a small, hesitant dip of her head, her emerald eyes flickering with the unsteady light of doubt. The sterile confines of the outpost receded behind her, and she was immediately enveloped by the cloying embrace of the jungle's breath – thick, humid air that clung to her skin like a damp shroud.

Father’s rule… The thought echoed in the sudden hollowness within her chest. Is it truly the unwavering justice he proclaims?

A tremor of uncertainty, like a hairline crack in polished stone, ran through her resolve.

Each step she and Devansh took towards the emerald depths of the jungle felt heavy, weighted by the looming task. The vibrant tapestry of leaves and the cacophony of unseen creatures, usually a source of fascination, now felt ominous, a prelude to the unknown. The prospect of confronting not a mere mortal, but a being potentially divine, a deity woven into the very fabric of this land and cherished by its people, sent a shiver down her spine that had nothing to do with the muggy heat.

Their love for this being was a tangible thing, a wall she would have to breach, and the thought of standing against such widespread devotion was profoundly unsettling, a cold knot tightening in the pit of her stomach. The weight of her mission suddenly felt immense, the path ahead shrouded not just in foliage, but in a disquieting sense of going against the natural order.

Chapter 24: CXXIV

Chapter Text

Ami woke with a start in her hotel room on the 14th floor of the Shuitsu branch in E-273, the early morning hours still shrouding the vastness of the megalopolis in the darkness, the city’s neon glow filtering through the window blinds. The clock on her phone read 3:47 AM, far too early for the bustling megalopolis to stir, but the perfect time for someone like her to slip away unnoticed.

She rolled out of bed, her new clothes, a black blazer, white t-shirt, long pants, and her trusty ballerina flats, already laid out from an impromptu afternoon shopping trip in the city. After a quick shower, she packed her few belongings, checked out of the hotel with a swipe of her credit chip, and stepped out into the crisp night air, the faint hum of distant hovercars echoing through the streets.

The woman lazed, stretching her legs in a feline-esque motion on a bench a block away from the Shuitsu hotel, the closed coffee shop in front of her casting long shadows under the flickering streetlights. She was waiting for her ride, a hovercar arranged by a contact from E-273’s underworld, who had promised to take her to a point further up the coast, beyond even the smugglers’ port, where a boat would ferry her to her next destination.


"Damn, even I'm forgetting who to pay." She yawned as she walked down the smooth pavements, her footsteps almost silent, while absent-mindedly transferring money to random connections whom she assumed were her partners in crime, so to speak. 


Bored, Ami scrolled through her phone, double-checking her encrypted connection whilst rubbing her face to get the fog of sleep further out from her mind. The streets were mostly deserted, lined with shuttered shoplots and skyscrapers, silent and lifeless at this hour in the cloudy veil of the night. The elevated rails of the maglev trains loomed soundlessly above her, and only the gleam of the streetlights broke the shroud of the night, oases of illumination in an otherwise dark and gloomy hour of the early morning. 

A sound. She could sense something. Her eyes widened, her brows furrowing as she swore she saw a silhouette dart into the alleyway behind the shuttered coffee shop she was relaxing in front of.

“That…” she muttered, her voice low and suspicious.

She relaxed her face into a blank stare, pocketing her phone and standing up, her movements deliberate as she walked past the alleyway, pretending not to notice.

A woman hid in the shadows, her black catsuit blending into the darkness as she crouched behind a dumpster, her purple ponytails trembling slightly. She heaved a sigh of relief, her lavender eyes darting from point to point.

Phew. She didn’t see me, she thought, her fingers tightening around her turquoise plush keychain, a remnant of her childhood and a painful reminder of her lost family.

“Found you.”

Her heart stopped as Ami’s voice cut through the silence, her pink eyes glowing with serious disdain as she appeared behind her like a ghost.

“Hey… fucker…” Ami said, her tone dripping with menace.

“Saw you trailing me…” She rolled down her sleeves, grinning at K as the moonlight caught the tremble in her purple ponytails, her catsuit suddenly feeling far too tight under Ami’s predatory gaze.

Ami leaned over, licking her lips like a lion savoring its prey, her voice low and dangerous.

“You mind telling me what the fuck your deal is…?”

Agent K’s face twisted with consternation, her mind racing as she stammered, “I…” Thinking quickly, she composed herself, straightening her face with a defiant glare.

“I’m actually… looking for information on…”

She racked her brain, grasping for a believable lie.

“Police chief… of E-273… Aisha King…”

Ami’s eyes narrowed, her arms crossing as she remembered Aisha—the police chief she’d humiliated one or two days earlier at her abandoned warehouse outpost in a dead part of the city while printing fake IDs for Jack.

A smirk tugged at her lips. That can’t fool me.

“Oh… yeah? What about her…” The cambion played along, her tone deceptively casual.

The purple-haired woman pressed on, her voice steadier now.

“I was trailing you because I thought you’d have information on her… and… and her misdeeds…”

Ami nodded slowly, playing the facade of a person absolutely convinced by K’s pathetic attempt to lie.

“Oh. Sure. You could have just asked nicely.

She launched into a casual rant, her voice dripping with mockery. “Well… all I did was expose her corruption.”

Her tone was as flippant as her attitude as she continued.

“I’ve worked with her father before, Lamarr. Ha, he’s a great guy, but her? Hah. At least if she’s gonna steal money, she’s gotta hide her ways easily, you know.”

The cambion cackled, her laughter echoing in the alleyway, sharp and unhinged.

Ami shrugged again, the moon almost grinning with her, as she continued, “Anything else you want to know about Aisha…?”

Agent K's lavender eyes furrowed, her face darkening with a mix of suspicion and unease.
“No.. that’s all…” she muttered, her voice barely audible.

Ami turned her back to the catsuit-clad woman, sauntering out of the alleyway with muffled cackling, but paused at the edge of the shadows.

“And also…” Ami’s head swiveled back slowly to face her would-be assailant, her voice suddenly cold.

K’s eyes furrowed further, her lip upturned with trepidation as she braced herself.

Ami glanced back, her grin wicked and knowing.

Still miss your family?

K's lavender eyes flashed with rage, her voice a guttural snarl.

“You… fucking…”

She lunged at Ami, unsheathing her kiridashi from her side with the speed of a cheetah, its blade gleaming in the moonlight as she aimed for Ami’s back. The wind stung her bloodshot eyes as the reality of Ami’s words sunk in, the memories of that fateful day she’d lost her family to forces beyond her control still a fresh wound in her mind’s eye.

Ami, unfazed, dove forward, her palms pressing against the grimy alleyway road as she sent a powerful kick backward, her foot slamming into her opponent’s stomach with a sickening thud. K flew into the air, crashing down onto a dumpster container with a crunch, the metal denting beneath her weight.

Her eyes flared with fury as she staggered to her feet, charging at Ami with a scream, her kiridashi slashing wildly.
Ami dodged effortlessly, her movements fluid and precise, catching K’s hand in her wrist mid-strike. She squeezed hard, her grip like iron, as K grunted in pain, her wrist strangled by the pure pressure coiling around her joint.

“Khk… let… go… you…!”

The double agent tried to recoil, drawing on her combat expertised, she attempted to aim a knee at Ami’s liver, but Ami twisted her body with a dancer’s grace, reversing their positions and pinning K against the alley wall.

Ami grinned, her pink eyes glinting with sadistic glee.

“You probably…”

She socked Agent K in the face, the impact sending blood spraying from her mouth, staining her catsuit and lavender ponytails.

“…should learn to be a little more low-key next time.”

Beaten, Ami's assailant slumped to the ground, the wind knocked out of her, her body trembling as she gasped for breath.

Ami’s gaze fell to K’s phone, lying on the cold, damp alleyway street. “Ha… that thing…” she muttered, her tone mocking. K reached for it feebly, her voice a weak plea.

“No-!!!”

Ami, having long since stopped paying true attention to K's words, stomped on the phone, shattering it into a million pieces with a colossal crunch, her ballerina flats grinding the fragments into the pavement.

“Heh,” she scoffed, turning back to look at the foiled attempt on her life with a shrug.

“You can get a new phone, some backup, and hopefully some people more skilled at fighting than you in this city.”

With that, she sauntered out of the alleyway, her laughter echoing faintly as she left K  broken and humiliated.

K gasped for breath, slumped against the dumpster, feeling some of her teeth loose in her jawline as blood trickled down her face.

“This… was humiliating… grh…” she muttered, her voice hoarse.

She pulled out her keychain, staring at the turquoise plush animal hanging from it, her lavender eyes welling with tears.

“I… just… want my family,” she whispered, her body trembling as she slumped further, unconsciousness claiming her in the dark alleyway.





Ami sauntered back to the bench, sitting down with a huff as she took in the cool, crisp night air. The streets remained mostly deserted, closed shoplots, glowing streetlights, and the silent maglev rails above her casting an eerie stillness over the city.

“That fucking michinnyeon … dared to try the surprise attack bullshit, did she…” she muttered, her voice dripping with disdain.

She checked her phone again, ensuring her connection was secure and her communications encrypted, her eyes narrowing as she scanned her environment like a hawk to prey.

“This city’s full of bastards. Really shouldn’t have come here,” she grumbled, her tone bitter.

At last, a crimson-colored hovercar, its sleek design, with a minimalist grill, triangular headlights and overall shape optimised for piercing through the air with mind-numbing efficiency cut through the darkness of the city, slowing down to a gentle stop right next to where Ami was sitting. A three-eyed alien with shades stepped out, his red shirt and ironed dark pants giving him a casual but professional air. “Ami, right?” he asked, his voice gruff. Ami stood up, brushing off her blazer as she nodded.

“Yeah, that’s me. We going to the smugglers’ port, right?” She slid into the side seat, her gaze lingering on the alleyway one last time as the hovercar sped off.

The alien, introducing himself as Wataru, nodded as he drove, his three eyes scanning the road ahead. “Yeah. We’ve chartered a boat for you.”

The 40-minute drive to the coastal point where Ami would embark on the next part of her journey stretched ahead, the city lights fading into the distance as they headed toward the smuggler’s port, leaving the aftermath of the alleyway fight behind.




 

The morning sun had barely crested the horizon, its golden rays shimmering across the waves as Jack trudged along the deserted beach on the outskirts of E-273, his geta leaving faint imprints in the sand. His gi, freshly cleaned at the futuristic beach shower outlet, still bore the faint scent of saltwater and blue essence from his confrontation with Ari in her lab, but the hot shower had washed away some of the grime, if not the weight of his despair.

The beach stretched endlessly before him, a deceptive paradise marred by the signs of struggle he’d seen near the worn-out shed, scuff marks, broken planks, and trails leading to the cliffside, hinting at Aku’s darker influence.

“It was all for naught.”

A voice in his head gnawed at his resolve, his bones heavy with regret and unease, his legs barely managing to pull his fatigued body forward.

“It’s just illogical.”

“The sword was supposed to kill Aku.”

But it didn’t, said the voice in his head.

As Jack looked at the sun’s rays, as vibrant as the hope that Ashi had given him despite her previous incarnation’s differences, he felt something like a pang in his chest, as if it was going to collapse into a black hole of sheer hopelessness.

He stared down at his feet, noting the way the waves playfully lapped at the teeth of his geta, and at a little crab thing, scuttling across the grey muddy sand to somewhere else.

There was hope, yet there wasn’t.

“There isn’t.”

After some time, Jack reached the port of Hanei no Minato, a bustling hub on E-273’s southern coast, the same port from where Ashi had departed on her way to the tropical city of Bhumanagara earlier.

The port was alive with the sounds of creaking wooden docks, the cries of alien seagulls with iridescent wings, and the chatter of sailors unloading crates of shimmering fish and glowing coral. Hoverboats bobbed in the water alongside traditional wooden vessels, their sails painted with Aku’s red-orange insignia, a stark reminder of his control over even the smallest corners of this world. A beetle bot scuttled along the docks, its red-orange eyes scanning the sailors, while a faded propaganda poster of Aku loomed over the port, proclaiming ‘The Exalted One Brings Prosperity!’ in bold, glowing letters. The air was thick with the scent of brine and grilled seafood from nearby stalls, where vendors shouted offers of “fresh moonfish skewers, only 10 credits!”

Jack’s dark eyes scanned the port, his wild hair whipping in the warm air, whiffs of fish, sea life and goods to be shipped periodically caressing his nostrils, his sacred sword sheathed at his side.

He overheard a group of sailors—three burly figures with scales and fur—talking near a stack of crates, their voices carrying over the din of the port. “The Young Priestess left from here a few days ago,” one said, a reptilian sailor with a forked tongue, his claws scratching at a crate. “Headed for another city, E-108.”

Jack’s ears perked up, his heart quickening as he stepped closer to the group, his voice low but firm.

“…E-108?”

The sailors turned to him, their eyes narrowing at the sight of the disheveled samurai, his gi slightly frayed at the edges. The second sailor, an anthropomorphic lion with a mane streaked with silver, spoke up, his voice a deep rumble.

“Bhumanagara… that’s its colloquial name. Nestled deep within tropical forests, it’s been a place of recent rebel activity, but also an up-and-coming hub for commerce, modernity, and a shining beacon of progress in that part of the world.”

The third sailor, a squid-like alien with tentacles for arms, nodded, his voice gurgling slightly.

“Aku’s influence has transformed it, new roads, schools, infrastructure, all under Subhadayaka Deva’s watchful eye.”

Jack bit his lip, his mind racing.

Ashi.

The Young Priestess.

His ill-fated bride.

She was in Bhumanagara, a place of both rebellion and Aku’s control. Resolve tightened his stomach. He had to find her, to confront her about her role in the faux prosperity of the demon’s return, and subsequent, seemingly globally successful rebranding, and to understand her role in Aku’s return.

He took a deep breath, his voice steady despite the uncertainty in his eyes.

“Can any of you take me there… To this place… named Bhumanagara?”

The lion sailor, who introduced himself as Arjun, crossed his muscular arms, his golden eyes glinting with a mix of curiosity and amusement.
“Yeah, sure. Price will be 2000 credits. Journey takes almost an entire day to Svargadwara, the nearest port to E-108.”

Jack’s stomach twisted, his hand hovering over his obi where he kept the cards Ami had given him.

“I’m… not sure how much I have,” he admitted, his voice tinged with nervousness, the unfamiliarity of this future world weighing heavily on him.

Arjun sighed, his mane rustling as he held out a small scanner, its screen glowing with Aku’s insignia.

“Here, let’s check how much you have.”

Jack hesitated, his fingers trembling slightly as he pulled out one of the chrome cards, its letters glowing faintly in the morning light.

In his exhausted, unfamiliar mind, he muttered to himself, “…This should work.” He swiped the card on the scanner, bracing for rejection, and worse, a physical confrontation, squeezing his eyes tight as he resigned himself to having to fight innocents under Aku's rule once again.

To his astonishment, the device beeped, its robotic voice chiming, “Transaction authorised.”

Arjun grinned, his fangs glinting as he beckoned Jack toward his boat, a sturdy vessel with a wooden hull painted in shades of blue and gold, its sails emblazoned with a stylized lion’s head.

“Welcome aboard, friend,” he said, his voice warm but businesslike, as he led Jack across the creaking gangplank. The other sailors began preparing the boat, their movements swift and practiced, as the engines rumbled to life, a mix of traditional sails and futuristic hover-tech propelling the vessel forward.

Jack stepped onto the deck, the wood cool beneath his geta, and slid the card back into his gi obi, his fingers brushing against the fabric as the boat pulled away from Hanei no Minato.

The port shrank into the distance, the cries of the seagulls fading as the open sea stretched before them, its waves glittering like molten gold under the rising sun. Jack’s thoughts turned inward, his brow furrowing as he muttered to himself, “The money… in this card. The credits had to come from somewhere… right? Could Ami still be pulling the strings, even now?”

As the boat rumbled onward, the samurai felt something round and hard inside his obi, his fingers fumbling for it amidst the sway of the vessel. He pulled out a small scarab ornament, its surface a deep, shining blue that seemed to pulse with an ancient energy. It was the gift from the Egyptian envoy, given to him two years after he’d defeated Aku in the past, before he traveled back to this future—a token of gratitude for his aid in their battle against Aku’s forces. The scarab’s intricate carvings depicted a rising sun, its wings etched with hieroglyphs that spoke of protection and remembrance, the blue gem at its center glowing faintly as if alive with the spirits of those he’d lost.

Jack smiled softly, the scarab’s cool, heavy weight grounding him in his calloused palm, a rare moment of warmth breaking through his stoic demeanor, his dark eyes reflecting the sea’s shimmer as he held the scarab close.

“I did promise the Egyptians that I’d carry this wherever I’d go… to remind me of everyone that I’d lost,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the hum of the boat and the crash of the waves.

He tucked the scarab back into his obi, his resolve hardening as the journey to Bhumanagara began, the promise of confronting Ashi, and perhaps uncovering more of Aku’s plans, driving him forward across the endless sea.



 


 

The dense jungle on the outskirts of Bhumanagara was alive with the hum of cicadas and the rustle of leaves, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and blooming orchids as dawn painted the canopy in shades of amber and gold. Ashi and Devansh trekked through the undergrowth, their movements silent but purposeful, the stone elephantoid golem leading the way with heavy, deliberate steps. Devansh’s gray stone skin, etched with glowing cracks, seemed to absorb the morning light, his short trunk twitching as he scanned the jungle for signs of the cultists they sought. Ashi followed close behind, her black cloak blending into the shadows, her green eyes sharp with determination but clouded with the doubt that had been growing since her interrogation of Anjana at the guard outpost earlier that morning.

They had left the Svarnapadma Avasah at dawn, the inn’s gaudy neon lights still flickering in Ashi’s mind as they ventured into the jungle, following Anjana’s lead about the “green cow spirit” and the disbelievers hiding in the forest.

Devansh’s deep voice rumbled like distant thunder as he glanced back at Ashi, his red and yellow bangles clinking softly. “Young Priestess, these cultists are a blight on Subhadayaka Deva’s vision,” he said, his tone unyielding, the cracks in his stone skin glowing faintly with Aku’s essence. “They cling to false gods, defying the progress Aku has brought to Bhumanagara.”

Ashi’s grip tightened on her kusarigama, the chain coiled around her arm, her voice tinged with meekness and confusion. “Progress?” She paused, her green eyes narrowing as she brushed aside a low-hanging vine, her tone sharper now.


Devansh’s stone face remained impassive, but his trunk swished slightly, a rare sign of agitation. “Faith in gods long since dismissed from their heavenly seats leads to ruin, Young Priestess,” he replied, his voice steady but firm.

“Aku has shown us the way. Prosperity, order, growth. These cultists threaten that stability. You’ll see.”

Ashi’s jaw tightened, her unease growing, but she said nothing, her mind swirling with questions as they pressed deeper into the jungle.

The jungle was still, save for the distant thrum of cicadas and the hiss of dew falling from broad-leafed canopies. The scent of damp moss mixed with something older— loam steeped in memory , the earth heavy with echoes.

Devansh’s footsteps were thunder in the silence, his stony frame brushing aside vines that hissed like serpents awakened from dreams. Each step left small craters in the mud.

Ashi followed close behind, her breath shallow, boots damp, kusarigama wound tight across her arm like a muscle memory. Her black cloak’s flowy nature, once an asset to her status as her father’s top aide, now seemed like a liability as heat became harder to expel from her body in the stuffy air and the thick material, and the fabric snagged on branches she didn’t bother removing.

Something inside her refused to feel light.

“Devansh,” she said, voice low.

“Yes, Young Priestess?” he responded, not turning.

They walked a few more paces before she continued, her green eyes tracing the way light filtered through the jungle canopy in fractured patterns, like stained glass made by gods long dead.

“Have you ever wondered,” she began, “what it is they pray for?”

Devansh paused. The red and yellow bangles on his wrists clinked like wind chimes caught in the moment before a storm.

“I do not concern myself with the words of traitors,” he said, calm and absolute. “Prayer is a currency. They offer it to those who no longer collect.”

Ashi frowned. “But still they speak the names. Prithvi. Visvadharini. Sthavara. I’ve heard them whispered… even in the city.”

Devansh finally turned, the lines of stone across his face catching in the morning light like ancient carvings. The glow of his internal cracks pulsed softly, rhythmic, like a breathing heart forged in magma.

“You are merciful, Young Priestess,” he said. “But mercy is not clarity.”

He stepped closer. “Those names are fossils. Remnants of a disordered age. We do not bury fossils to honor them. We study them, then build over the grave.”

Ashi’s lips parted, but no words came.

Devansh continued. “Faith in the Exalted One, Subhanayaka Deva, Lord Aku has brought Bhumanagara out of the jungle and into the future. To question this is to walk backwards, barefoot, through thorns.”

They stood in silence as a breeze whispered through the canopy. A monkey cried in the distance. A leaf, perfectly gold, drifted down and landed on Ashi’s shoulder.

She brushed it off.

“…And if we are wrong?” she asked quietly.

Devansh did not blink. Could not. His eyes glowed unchanging.

“Then we will be corrected by fire.

After a short trek, they reached a small clearing, the air heavy with a strange, almost divine energy that made the hairs on Ashi’s neck stand on end. In the center of the clearing stood a group of people—five figures in hoods and cloaks, their faces obscured, kneeling in a circle around a creature that defied description. It was a cow-like being, its body a shimmering green, its eyes glowing with a soft, ethereal light, exuding an aura of ancient power.

The group chanted softly in a language Ashi didn’t recognize, their voices reverent as they prayed to this being—not to Aku, but to this “false god”, or just as likely, a deity that was once a god.


Ashi’s brow furrowed, her voice a whisper as she crouched behind a tree, watching the scene unfold. “What is this animal?”

Devansh’s stone hand tightened into a fist, his glowing cracks flaring briefly with anger. “A blasphemy,” he growled, his trunk twitching as he prepared to charge.

“It’s the green cow spirit that criminal, Anjana, spoke of, a deity, who’s long a shadow of her former glory.”

His eyes hardened, like the spirit of Medusa had blessed his sight with her powers, and continued.

“It’s very, very disappointing that these fools worship her in the modern era, instead of Subhadayaka Deva.”

Ashi bit her tongue as she attempted to remain tight lipped.

Her confusion deepened.

And yet, before she could respond, her instincts took over.

She leaped into action, bursting into the clearing with a fierce cry, her kusarigama whipping through the air as she aimed to bust the secret gathering.

The small group scattered in panic, their chants breaking into shouts of alarm, but Ashi was relentless. She swung her kusarigama with deadly precision, the chain wrapping around one cultist’s legs and yanking them to the ground, then spinning to ensnare another, her movements a blur of black and steel.

The green cow spirit, startled by the chaos, tried to flee, its hooves thudding against the earth as it bolted toward the forest. Ashi’s eyes locked onto it, her fury igniting as she sprinted after it, her cloak billowing behind her. With a powerful leap, she dropkicked the creature into the undergrowth, her foot slamming into its side with a sickening crack, sending it crashing through a cluster of ferns.

The cow spirit cried out in pain, its ethereal glow flickering as it struggled to rise, its voice trembling with desperation.

“Please… spare me. Really. Please do—”

Ashi cut it off, her green eyes blazing with a mix of anger and confusion as she loomed over it.

“You shouldn’t…”

She punched the sentient cow in the face, her fist connecting with the cow’s jaw, a sickening crunch reverberating throughout the vastness of the jungle, the creature’s head snapping back as its glow dimmed further.

“…be organising gatherings without the required regulatory approval from the global authorities.”

The cow went limp, unconscious but still breathing, its body battered from Ashi’s relentless assault. Ashi stood over it, her chest heaving, her fists trembling as the reality of her actions sank in.

The remaining cultists, who had been struggling against her kusarigama, broke free and rushed to the cow’s side, their hoods falling back to reveal faces etched with fear and devotion.

“Prithvi… Mata!” one cried, a young woman with dark eyes and a scar across her cheek, her voice breaking with emotion.

Another, an older man with a weathered face, knelt beside the cow.

“Bu… Pertiwi…” 

Ashi froze, her green eyes wide with shock as the people whom she thought were barbaric cultists, now showing so much concern and compassion for their fallen god, shot her a nasty glare in unison, their hatred palpable as they helped the cow spirit to its feet, supporting its limp form as they fled into the forest, disappearing into the dense foliage. Ashi stood alone in the clearing, her kusarigama hanging loosely at her side, her voice barely a whisper as she stared after them.

“What am I doing?”



Devansh approached, his stone feet leaving craters in the soft jungle soil. The glow in his cracks pulsed faintly, as if responding to the lingering divine energy in the air.

“You did well, Young Priestess,” he intoned, voice like ancient granite. “You’ve scattered the cult, ensured their idol will not rise again.”

Ashi didn’t look at him.

Her eyes were still fixed on the bloodied leaves where the green cow spirit had fallen. The air buzzed with memory.

She spoke quietly. “They called her… ‘Prithvi Mata.’”

Devansh said nothing.

“They cried for her,” she continued, fingers clenching at her sides. “Not with fear. With… something else.”

A pause. Her voice was softer now. “I only meant to stop the gathering. I didn’t think…”

Devansh stepped beside her.

“Deities that have lost their right to rule are to be cast out, as is tradition. Don’t confuse sentiment for sanctity.”

Ashi’s lips parted. She wanted to argue, but nothing came.

“We move forward,” Devansh said, calm and resolute. “There are more of them. More to cleanse.”

Ashi turned her face away, the jungle around her pressing in like a silent, judging audience.

“…Yes,” she whispered, her voice brittle, falling apart like termite-ridden wood. “Of course.”

The things she’d seen, the temple with Aku’s statue, the beetle bots enforcing compliance, the cultists’ devotion to Prithvi Mata.

Everything was starting to affect her in ways she never thought possible. She felt aimless, adrift in a world that claimed to be a paradise under Aku’s rule, but beneath its surface lay a darkness she could no longer ignore.

As she and Devansh made their way back to the city, the jungle’s shadows seemed to close in around her, mirroring the doubt that now consumed her heart.

Chapter 25: CXXV

Chapter Text


The midday sun hung high over the bustling port town on the edge of the coastline, its docks alive with the rhythm of trade and survival. Thickening the air was the scent of recently caught seafood; fish, clams, prawns, and strange, glowing blue sea creatures that shimmered like bioluminescent jewels, their tentacles writhing in the nets of alien fishermen. Ami stood on the weathered wooden docks, her black blazer and white t-shirt a stark contrast to the vibrant chaos around her, her ballerina flats still damp with seawater from the boat ride that had brought her here from E-273. She kicked off a stray droplet, her pink eyes scanning the port with a mix of curiosity and wariness, her new burner phone, a sleek, black device she’d bought at some point, tucked into her pocket.

The port could suffice for a small township in its own right, a chaotic blend of futuristic tech and traditional elements specific to that region. Neon signs in various languages, human and alien alike,  buzzed above market stalls, advertising “Fresh Balut! 5 Credits!” and “Gado-gado with Glowfruit!”


Jeepneys with holographic displays rumbled past, their drivers shouting destinations over the hum of hover-tech engines. Stilted longhouses rose over the swampy, river-heavy terrain nearby, their wooden frames weathered by the salty air, while banana trees and cordyline shrubs dotted the landscape, their leaves swaying in the tropical breeze. Fireflies flickered in the shadows, even at midday, lending the port a liminal, cursed energy that made Ami’s skin prickle. Farther up the rolling hill, the city of Bagong Niningning loomed, its skyline a mix of sleek, modern looking skyscrapers and spiralling towers, many with protrusions that seemed to resemble something like a demon’s gnarled, warped horns.

Ami sauntered along the docks, taking in the sights and sounds, her steps deliberate as she blended into the crowd. She passed a fishmonger gutting a glowing blue creature that looked eerily like one of Ari’s experiments; its tentacles twitching even after being sliced open, bioluminescence fading with each cut.

A smirk curled as she muttered to herself.

"That bitch would lose her mind over that thing.”

She stepped onto a patch of grass near the edge of the port, the blades crunching softly under her flats as she pulled out her burner phone, checking for encrypted messages from her contacts. The device’s screen glowed faintly, showing no new notifications, just the time, 3:03 PM.

Her eyes caught movement in the crowd, and she looked up to see a burly figure approaching.

 

An imposing carabao humanoid, standing at least 190 cm tall, his black skin gleaming in the sunlight, his two beady red eyes a stark contrast to the sunny, tropical atmosphere. His translucent shirt revealed a dark vest underneath, his muscles flexing as he idly flicked a fish scale off his sleeve, the gesture casual but deliberate.

Ami adjusted her blazer, her expression deadpan as the hefty bull-man stopped before her, his shadow looming over her petite frame.


“Name’s Manalastas. I run the show around here.”

His red eyes flared with a mix of condescension and mockery as he leaned in closer, his voice a low rumble that cut through the port’s clamor. “

“You must be Ami, I assume, one of…”

He paused, his gaze sharpening.

“…Aku’s aides, I presume?”

Ami scoffed, shrugging nonchalantly, her pink eyes meeting his without a hint of fear. “Yes. I am,” she said, her tone flat but edged with defiance.

A long, awkward pause followed, Manalastas staring her down, his eyes unblinking, while Ami held his gaze, her expression unreadable. Around them, the port’s onlookers; fishmongers, goods-loaders, aliens, anthropomorphic animals, and humans alike murmured amongst themselves, their voices a mix of curiosity and amusement.

“Damn, Tito Mana is throwing some hands today,” a fishmonger whispered, his claws clicking as he hefted a crate of prawns.

“Yeah… does he know her? He guards the port night and day, his dedication to the job never wavering despite the monotonous routine!” a human loader replied, wiping sweat from his brow.

“Iya… Pak Las is MAD. And when he’s mad… oh boy,” an alien with glowing tentacles muttered, its voice a soft gurgle.

Suddenly, Manalastas threw his head back and laughed, a bellowing, unexpected sound that echoed across the docks.

“Oh, of course! AHHHAHA!” he roared, his laughter shaking his massive frame.

“I know who you are.. Welcome to the little cozy port of Punta ng Kadilaman, or Teluk Kegelapan!.”

His red eyes softened slightly, though the mockery in his tone lingered.

Ami yawned, stretching her arms above her head, her blazer riding up slightly as she did.

“You should take me to the ‘problematic location’ your group laid out for me,” she said, her voice tinged with boredom, though the grin of her teeth betrayed her voice’s tone.

Manalastas smiled, his gait shifting to a measured, gentlemanly stride, his expression as cool as a cucumber despite the earlier tension.

“Ah, yes. Sure,” he said, gesturing for her to follow. The onlookers watched in amazement as he led Ami up the hill behind the cove port, their murmurs fading into the background as the two disappeared from view.

They reached a small but futuristic train station perched on the hill, its sleek design a stark contrast to the port’s rustic chaos. The station was a marvel of modern engineering, its platform made of something akin to polished obsidian, reflective under the midday sun, with holographic signs displaying train schedules in various languages. A massive LED screen loomed above the entrance, its green text glowing softly against a black background. Maglev tracks hovered above the ground, their electromagnetic hum a constant undercurrent, while the station’s roof was adorned with solar panels shaped like lotus flowers, their edges shimmering with a faint blue glow. Banana trees and cordyline shrubs lined the perimeter, their leaves rustling in the breeze, and fireflies danced in the shadows, adding to the liminal energy that seemed to permeate the region.

Manalastas approached a scanner near the entrance, pulling out a chrome card with 6-horned-insignia etched into its surface. He scanned it with a swift motion, the device beeping softly as the LED screen above flickered. Both he and Ami looked up at the screen momentarily, making sure not to blink, as green text flashed across it: Transaction Authorised .

The station’s ambient hum grew louder as a maglev train approached, its sleek black body painted with silver outlines of six-horned shapes on the doors, a subtle nod to Aku’s influence.

The train’s doors opened with a soft whoosh, revealing a pristine interior, plush seats in deep red velvet, holographic windows displaying the tropical landscape outside, and a faint scent of jasmine lingering in the air. Manalastas and Ami stepped inside, settling into a comfortable booth with seats facing each other, the velvet cushions sinking slightly under their weight.
The train hummed to life, hovering above the guided tracks as it sped away from Teluk Kegelapan, the tropical coastline whizzing by in a blur of green and blue. The journey took them away from the two larger settlements toward the outskirts, where the landscape grew wilder, the jungle encroaching on the tracks with dense foliage and the occasional glimpse of a river snaking through the terrain.

Manalastas leaned back in his seat, studying Ami with a mix of curiosity and caution.

“So… you know what the problem is, right?” he asked, his deep voice cutting through the hum of the train.

Ami shrugged, her deadpan expression unchanged as she leaned against the window, her pink eyes reflecting the passing scenery. “Hm… I’m kind of unfamiliar,” she admitted, her tone casual. “The contacts back at E-273 never really gave me any details.”

Manalastas sighed, his nostrils flaring as he leaned in close, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that sent a chill down the spine of the otherwise unflappable Ami. “See, Countess Ami…” he began, his tone heavy with the weight of what he was about to reveal.

“We’re heading to a village on the outskirts of these settlements” he continued, his red eyes narrowing slightly.

Ami shrugged again, her expression still deadpan, though a flicker of interest swept across her face for a moment.

“So…?” she prompted, her voice laced with impatience.

Manalastas’s brows furrowed, the horns on his head seeming to curl inward, pointing at Ami as if accusing her of ignorance. “Well…” he said, his voice dropping even lower, “it’s been a problem for us recently.” He paused, letting the words hang in the air, then continued, his tone grave.

"Seven years ago, a pact was struck, between Lord Aku and the beings that terrorised us."


Ami’s eyes narrowed slightly, her interest piqued as she leaned forward, resting her elbow on the table between them. Manalastas went on, his voice steady but tinged with frustration.


"We never asked questions, and the threats to our citizen's lives subsided in the blink of an eye."

"However... it seems we got too comfortable, for something equally as disturbing has reared it's ugly head in those remote forests, as of late."


“Ha…”

 

a spark of recognition flashed across her face as Manalastas continued, his words painting a chilling picture.

“The strange green-skinned folk who live there, who’s primary means of communication are via fleeting graphics above their heads—speak of a skeletal specter, a macabre shape with blackened bones and a skull that detaches and rejoins itself at will. They describe it as a being that comes and goes when it pleases, vanishing as quickly as it appears, like a firefly's spark in the jungle night—too fast, too wrong.”


A slight grin crept up on Ami’s face, her finger resting on her chin as she mused to herself, “Could it be…?” She leaned back against the velvety train seat, her grin widening as she answered her own question with quiet certainty.

“Yeah… it could be.”

The train sped on, the tropical landscape blurring outside the holographic windows, the hum of the maglev a constant reminder of the distance between the port city and the remote village that they were headed to. Ami’s mind raced, her thoughts circling around the description of the being—a skeletal figure, a detachable head, a victim of some dark force. She had her suspicions, a faint memory tugging at the edges of her mind, but for now, she kept them to herself, her pink eyes glinting with anticipation as the train carried her closer to the truth.





The first light of dawn crept over the horizon, casting a misty golden glow across the port of Svargadwara. The air was thick with the scent of orchids and smoke, the jungle encroaching on the docks with dense, tangled vines that seemed to whisper secrets in the early morning breeze. Wooden piers jutted out into the calm, glassy waters, their planks creaking under the weight of sailors and merchants unloading crates of shimmering fish, glowing coral, and strange, pulsating fruits from distant worlds. Hoverboats bobbed alongside traditional wooden vessels, their sails painted with Aku’s red-orange insignia, a stark reminder of his control over this region. Beetle bots patrolled the docks, their mechanical legs clicking against the wood, their red-orange eyes scanning for curfew breakers in the dim light.

Jack stepped off Arjun’s boat, his geta clicking softly against the weathered planks, his gi still faintly scented with saltwater and blue essence from his confrontation with Ari on the lonely atoll.. The journey from Hanei no Minato had taken nearly a day, and the exhaustion weighed heavily on his shoulders, though his dark eyes remained sharp, scanning the port with quiet determination. His wild hair continued to flow freely with the wind’s caressing, almost mother-like motions, his sacred sword sheathed at his side, its weight a comforting reminder of his purpose. The clock on a nearby holographic sign read 4:32 AM, the faint glow of the screen casting eerie shadows across the dock.

Arjun, the anthropomorphic lion sailor, gave Jack a nod, his silver-streaked mane rustling as he crossed his muscular arms.

“Safe travels, samurai,” he rumbled, his golden eyes glinting with a mix of respect and curiosity. “Bhumanagara’s a few hours’ trek from here. Watch yourself—the jungle’s got eyes.”

Jack bowed slightly, raising his hand in a light wave, his voice steady despite the fatigue in his bones.

“Thank you, Captain Arjun. I will,” he said, his gaze lingering on the lion for a moment before turning to the port.

The docks were already bustling despite the early hour, a chaotic mix of humanoids, aliens, actual humans, and anthropomorphic animal hybrids moving through the morning mist. A fishmonger—a squat, reptilian alien with scales the color of seaweed—gutted a massive fish with a cleaver, its blood dripping into the water below, attracting tiny, glowing crabs that skittered along the pier. A human merchant with a cybernetic arm haggled with a bird-like humanoid over a crate of pulsating fruit, their voices rising over the cries of alien seagulls with iridescent wings. A group of anthropomorphic animal hybrids; foxes, wolves, and a bear-like figure with glowing blue tattoos—unloaded barrels of what smelled like fermented sap, their laughter mingling with the hum of hover-tech engines.

Jack’s presence drew curious glances, his traditional gi and sword marking him as an outsider in this futuristic world. He approached the fishmonger, his steps measured, his voice calm but firm. “Excuse me,” he said, his dark eyes meeting the alien’s yellow ones.

“I seek the Young Priestess. She came to Bhumanagara Suci a few days ago. Do you know where I might find her?”

The fishmonger paused, his cleaver hovering over the fish, his scaled brow furrowing as he studied Jack.

“The Young Priestess, huh?” he rasped, his voice a low hiss.
“You mean Lord Aku’s girl, Ashi? Yeah, I heard she’s in the city… or maybe the jungle. Folks say she’s been huntin’ rebels with a stone golem. Dangerous business.”

He pointed a clawed finger toward the jungle beyond the port, where the trees loomed like silent sentinels, their shadows stretching long and dark in the dawn light.

“Head that way, toward Bhumanagara. But watch yourself, traveler from another land.”

“Aku’s got a way with words here.” 

Jack nodded, his expression unreadable, though a flicker of resolve passed through his dark eyes. “Thank you,” he said, bowing slightly before turning toward the jungle path.

The fishmonger watched him go, muttering under his breath, “Hope he knows what he’s walkin’ into…”

Jack’s hand rested on the hilt of his sacred sword as he stepped off the dock, the misty air cool against his skin, the weight of his mission—to find Ashi, confront her about the rebels, and uncover her role in Aku’s return—driving him forward into the unknown.


The midday sun beat down on E-108’s hustle and bustle down below, its golden light glinting off the rugged elliptical dome of the Aku temple, a towering structure that rose above the surrounding buildings, its black obsidian surface shimmering with an otherworldly sheen. Scaffolding clung to its sides, a sign of ongoing renovations, the metal poles casting jagged shadows across the stone plaza that stretched before the temple’s entrance. The grand torana at the plaza’s edge, carved with intricate lotus motifs, stood partially defaced with Aku’s red-orange insignia, a stark reminder of his takeover of this once-sacred space. Rows of diyas lined the perimeter, their sacred flames flickering in the humid air, while the scent of sandalwood incense drifted from within, mingling with the earthy aroma of the jungle that encroached on the plaza’s edges, vines creeping up the temple’s walls as if seeking to reclaim it.

A sleek hovercar descended onto the plaza with a low hum, its black surface emblazoned with Aku’s red-orange insignia, its engines kicking up dust as it landed near the temple’s lofty archway. Ashi stepped out first, her black cloak stained with jungle mud from the morning’s trek, her face narrowing as she scanned the surroundings. Her kusarigama was coiled around her arm, its chain glinting faintly in the sunlight, a constant reminder of her duty as Aku’s Young Priestess. Devansh followed, his stone elephantoid form towering over her, his gray skin etched with glowing cracks that pulsed softly, his red and yellow bangles clinking with each heavy step.

The morning’s conversation in the jungle, where Ashi had questioned the cultists’ prayers to Prithvi still lingered in her mind, Devansh’s cryptic oath of being “corrected by fire”. a quiet echo she couldn’t fully suppress.

A sharp beep cut through the jungle’s hum, emanating from a sleek alerter device on Devansh’s wrist, its screen flashing with Aku’s insignia. He glanced at it, his glowing cracks flaring briefly with agitation, his deep voice rumbling like distant thunder.

“Rebels,” he growled, his trunk twitching as he read the alert.

“They’re storming the temple and vandalising Subhadayaka Deva’s sacred space.”

His glowing eyes instantly snapped to his right, where a group of figures in black cloaks emerged from the jungle, their movements swift and purposeful as they rushed toward the entrance.

Ashi’s eyes hardened, her jaw tightening as she too, caught sight of the rebels; seven figures, a mix of humans and humanoids, their faces obscured by hoods, their black cloaks marked with crude white symbols of a rising earth, a nod to their worship of the anthropomorphic cow that Ashi had earlier shown zero mercy to.

They carried spray cans, clubs, daggers, and one even wielded a dandpatta with a curved blade, their intent clear as they charged through the archway, shouting something unintelligible amongst the cacophony of war.

Among them was a child, no older than ten, a human boy with wide, terrified eyes, clutching a stolen oil lamp as if it were a shield, its flame flickering weakly against his chest, his small frame trembling amidst the rebels’ charge.

Ashi didn’t hesitate, her loyalty to Aku overriding any flicker of doubt.

“Blasphemers!” she snarled, her kusarigama whipping through the air with deadly precision, its chain slicing through the humid air as she charged across the plaza.

The chain wrapped around a rebel’s leg, yanking them to the ground with a sickening thud, their spray can rolling across the stone and clattering against the pillars of the entranceway..

Devansh roared, his rocky fists slamming into another rebel with the force of a meteorite crashing to earth, sending them crashing into a diya stand, the sacred flames scattering into the air like fiery sparks, their golden light reflecting off the temple’s obsidian dome.
The rebels fought back, their crude weapons clashing against Ashi’s chain and Devansh’s unyielding stone body, the plaza erupting into a haze of bloodshed and chaos, dust and ash swirling in the hot jungle air, the scent of sandalwood mixing with the metallic tang of blood.

Ashi’s gaze locked onto the child, who stumbled behind a fallen rebel near the torana archway, his small hands shaking as he clutched the stolen lamp, its flame casting a faint glow across his terrified face. Her lips quivered, a flicker of humanity breaking through her cold resolve.

She hesitated, her kusarigama lowering slightly, her eyes softening as she whispered, “A child…?”

But before she could make a final decision, a rebel—a wiry human man with a scarred face—lunged at her from the side, his dandpatta slashing through the air, its curved blade aimed for her throat. Ashi reacted on instinct, her kusarigama snapping up to block the strike, the chain clashing against the blade with a shower of sparks that lit up the plaza, the light reflecting off the temple’s scaffolding.
The man pressed his attack, his movements surprisingly skilled, matching Ashi’s speed as he swung again, the dandpatta whistling through the air, its edge grazing her cloak as she sidestepped. Ashi spun, her cloak billowing like a shadow against the obsidian walls, her chain wrapping around the man’s wrist mid-strike. She yanked hard, pulling him off balance, then drove her knee into his stomach, sending him sprawling to the ground with a grunt, dust billowing around him and catching the sunlight filtering through the jungle canopy.

Devansh watched in pure amazement, his glowing cracks pulsing faster as Ashi fought, her movements a blur of precision and fury in the open plaza. The man scrambled to his feet, his scarred face twisted with defiance, and swung again, the dandpatta catching the sunlight as it arced toward her, its reflection glinting off the temple’s red-orange spires.
Ashi dodged with a dancer’s grace, her irises narrowing with cold determination, and caught his arm with her chain, twisting it behind his back with a sickening pop that echoed across the plaza. She slammed him into the ground, her knee pinning his chest, the stone beneath him cracking from the impact, the sound reverberating against the temple’s lofty walls.
The man gasped, his weapon skittering across the plaza and coming to rest near a pile of marigold garlands that had fallen from the entrance’s ceiling, his terrified eyes meeting hers as she loomed over him, her voice a low growl.

“Do not rebel against the law.”

Ashi sheathed her kusarigama, its blade receding into the handle with a soft click, transforming it into a compact baton that she tucked into her cloak, its portability a testament to its design. She straightened, her green eyes cold as she glared down at the man, the other rebels subdued by Devansh’s relentless assault, their bodies bloodied and broken amidst the scattered diyas and ash-stained stone, the citrusy scent of calamansi leaves from the temple’s offerings now tainted by the chaos.

The child whimpered, his small frame shaking as he stared at Ashi, his eyes wide with fear, the stolen diya slipping from his trembling hands and rolling across the plaza, its flame snuffed out by the dust.

 “Do not hit the innocent, Ashi.”

A figure, hair wild and flowy, deft and dignified in his swordsmanship, had swooped down, seemingly out of nowhere, the blade of his sword squarely in the middle of her fist and her would-be victim’s scarred, battered visage.


“What.. what are you doing here..?”

Ashi froze, gait stiffening as if infused by resin, her breath catching in her throat as she stared at the Samurai, who's hardened, determined gaze met her dismayed, almost perplexed expression.

He paused briefly, then, with calm conviction meant to mask his jadedness, gave his response to her consterned objection.

“To stop you from going too far.”

Chapter 26: CXXVI

Chapter Text







The midday sun blazed over the Aku temple in Bhumanagara, its golden light reflecting off the temple’s rugged elliptical dome, the scaffolding casting jagged shadows across the bloodied ground.
The temple’s archway, its lotus motifs defaced with Aku’s red-orange insignia, stood as a silent witness to the chaos that had unfolded moments ago. Scattered lamps lay extinguished, their sacred flames snuffed out by the fight, while marigold garlands and ash stained the stone, the scent of sandalwood incense now tainted with the metallic tang of blood. The jungle loomed at the plaza’s edges, its vines creeping up the temple’s obsidian walls, a reminder of the natural forces resisting Aku’s control.

The samurai and his once-noble former bride stared down each other, the tension crackling like a storm about to break. Jack’s sacred sword was raised, its flat side still pressed against Ashi’s fist from when he’d blocked her strike against the rebel, his dark eyes burning with a mix of resolve and sorrow.
His gi flowed in the hot jungle breeze, his wild hair flailing around his face, the exhaustion of his trek from the port of Svargadwara etched into his features. Yet, his fatigue and his weariness only fueled the fire within him, a burning desire to persuade everyone that the rule of the demon was not what they wanted.

And in front of him, stood the very person he had least expected to be so devoted to Aku.

Ashi’s green eyes were wide with shock, her kusarigama now a compact baton tucked into her cloak, her black cloak stained with mud and blood from the fight.

“You serve a tyrant, Ashi,” Jack said, his voice steady but laced with pain, his sword unwavering.

“Aku’s rule brings suffering to the innocent. You must see that.” He gestured to the plaza, where the rebels lay broken, the child among them still trembling, clutching a stolen diya, his terrified eyes darting between the two warriors.

Ashi’s breath caught, her green eyes lowering for a moment, her grip on the baton faltering as a wave of unease washed over her.

For a fleeting second, Jack saw the person she was in the erased timeline—a cascade of memories flooding his mind.

He saw her as the fierce assassin trained to hunt him.

Her determination as she tracked him through a temple with her sisters.

Her survival against all odds in their deadly clash.

Then, happier memories.

Her wonder at his kindness to a ladybug, and her choice to become his ally after seeing the truth of Aku’s world, saving alien children with a newfound compassion.

He saw her searching for him, giving him hope to live on, defending him against an orc army and her own mother, their love blossoming, and the tragic betrayal when Aku, her father, corrupted her.

Finally, he saw her swansong, her ultimate act of love—regaining control, opening a time portal to send him back to defeat Aku, only to be erased on their wedding day as the timeline shifted, at long last, wiping her from existence, as was a consequence of defeating Aku before she and her six sisters were ever conceived.

His heart ached, his dark eyes softening with the weight of their shared past, a life she couldn’t remember.

Ashi’s mind raced, her thoughts a chaotic swirl as she stared at the ground, the child’s trembling form blurring in her vision.

This guy… this man… he’s wrong, she thought, her loyalty to Aku clawing at her doubts. Aku’s rule couldn’t be wrong.

She clenched her jaw, forcing the flicker of hesitation down, her green eyes snapping back up to Jack, now flashing with contempt. Her lips curled into a sneer, her voice, sharp as a cobra’s fang as she spat toxic venom at him.

“You know nothing..”

“You’re just some vagrant who pretends to know who I am.”

She stepped back, her baton extending into the full kusarigama with a metallic scrape, its chain glinting in the sunlight.

“The Lord brings order. Prosperity. You’re the one causing chaos!”

She lunged, her chain whipping through the air, aiming for Jack’s legs.

Jack dodged with a swift sidestep, his geta clicking against the stone, his sword slashing upward to deflect the chain, the clash sending sparks flying across the dusty streets, their movements occasionally flicking up billowy wisps of dust throughout the air.
The two fought with ferocious precision, their movements a deadly dance, Jack’s sword slicing through the air, Ashi’s kusarigama spinning in a blur of steel.
Each strike met with a counter, their blows echoing against the temple’s obsidian walls. Ashi went full offensive, her attacks relentless yet deft, while Jack fought defensively, his dark eyes searching for an opening not to harm her, but to reach her.

“You have a good heart Ashi…”

He struggled to say it, as his geta dug into the dust of the ground, sorrow scrawled all over his heavy-set features.

Ashi said nothing.

Her only focus was on taking him down.


Devansh watched from the sidelines, his stone elephantoid form towering near the torana, his glowing cracks pulsing softly. His red and yellow bangles clinked symphonically with one another as he crossed his arms.

His expression was neutral. 

Yet, a flicker of frustration passed through his glowing eyes as the fight dragged on, the temple’s dust swirling around the combatants.

Without further hesitation, he stepped forward, his massive form casting a shadow over the plaza, his deep voice rumbling like thunder looming over the horizon.

“Stop, lone warrior,” he commanded, his tone firm as he moved between Jack and Ashi, forcing them to pause. Ashi froze mid-strike, her chain dangling, her chest heaving with exertion, while Jack lowered his sword slightly, his dark eyes narrowing at the stone golem.

“Why must I stop?” Jack demanded, his voice sharp, his grip tightening on his sword.

“It is you two who must stop perpetuating Aku’s rule!”

He gestured to the temple, its red-orange spires glinting ominously in the sunlight, a symbol of the oppression he’d fought against for so long.

Devansh sighed, his stony visage darkening like thunderclouds as he blocked Jack’s sword with his elbow, the impact sending a dull thud echoing across the battlefield.

He reached into his white collared shirt, pulling out a small, squarish device that looked like a microphone, his expression growing more concerned with each passing second.

“He has become too problematic to ignore,” Devansh muttered, his voice heavy with resignation as he activated the device with a soft beep.

Jack’s eyes widened as a group of shady figures emerged from the jungle’s edge, their wobbly silhouettes framed by the hot, dense tropical air of the city..

They were Aku’s troops, ten soldiers of varying heights and builds, their armor gleaming with a sleek, futuristic design, armed with modern laser guns, handcuffs, and glowing gadgets that hummed with energy. Their helmets bore Aku’s red-orange insignia, their visors concealing their faces, their movements synchronised as they surrounded the plaza, cutting off Jack’s escape.

“This isn’t…” Jack began, his voice trailing off, his wild hair flailing around his face as he took a step back, his sword raised defensively.

The troops advanced, their laser guns humming as they took aim, their gadgets whirring with an ominous glow.

Devansh turned to Ashi, still locked in her battle with her soulmate from a previous era, his tone urgent but reverent.

“Young Priestess… Lord Aku has more on the horizon for you. Go.”

He gestured to one of the armored soldiers, a tall figure with a glowing baton, who stepped forward to escort her.

Ashi nodded, her eyes flickering with a mix of forlorn longing and contempt as she disengaged from the battle.

Standing straight to her feet, she took one last look at Jack, his figure now surrounded by Aku’s troops.

"That man..." 

She turned away, her cloak billowing as she followed the soldier beckoning to her, disappearing into the jungle toward a waiting hovercar, her heart heavy with a confusion she couldn’t name.

Jack faced Devansh and the troops alone, his dark eyes blazing with defiance as the soldiers closed in.

“My resolve… will NEVER BE SHATTERED!” he shouted, his sword flashing in the sunlight as he charged.

The streets outside the temple erupted into chaos once more, laser blasts searing through the air, Jack’s sword deflecting them with precision, his movements a blur as he fought against overwhelming odds.
Devansh joined the fray, his stone fists swinging with brutal force, the clash of steel and stone echoing against the temple’s walls.

As Jack jumped over laser blasts that came from all directions, slashing through the kevlar of the armoured guards, as his geta made contact with the faces of many of the troops that had been sent to confront him…he felt something, almost like a little fracture, spiderweb it’s way around his heart.

No matter if he won or lost against Devansh and the waves upon waves of troops, he could no longer suppress a little thought in his mind that had been slowly increasing in volume since he’d first stepped into this future.

“You’ve truly failed.”

It rang out loud, clear and definite in his head.




The late afternoon sun filtered through the dense canopy of the tropical rainforest, its golden light casting dappled shadows across the maglev train station where Ami and Manalastas disembarked. The station was a small, utilitarian structure, its platform made of weathered concrete, a single holographic sign displaying the time and schedules of the next trains in flickering green text. The scent of damp earth and blooming orchids mingled with the faint buzz of insects, and the jungle’s heat pressed down on the two like a heavy blanket.

Ami stepped off the train, her black blazer already sticking to her skin, her ballerina flats crunching against the gravel as she followed Manalastas onto a narrow path leading into the jungle.
She brushed a bug off her collar with a grimace, her pink eyes narrowing in disgust as she muttered, “Gross.”

Manalastas led the way, his massive carabao humanoid form cutting through the undergrowth with ease, his horns slashing through vines, branches, and creepers with deft, swift movements, clearing the path as they trekked deeper into the forest.

Ami trailed behind, her mind racing as she mused to herself, her voice a low hum.

“Hmmm… what did he mean by that… Triple Threat… some pact… hmm.” Her thoughts circled back to Manalastas’s words on the train, her mind churning over itself in anticipation and pure, primal curiosity over the information Manalastas had divulged to her about their destination.

What did he mean by there being a notorious group of spirits, thought to have been dealt with seven years ago by Aku, and the new threat of a skeletal being haunting the village…?

She adjusted her blazer, her eyes scanning the rim of the jungle with curiosity, the burner phone in her pocket a silent reminder of her mission.

After a longer trek through the humid jungle, the path opened into a clearing, revealing a village nestled deep within the rainforest, its stilt longhouses rising above the swampy terrain, their wooden frames adorned with intricate carvings of mythical creatures and floral patterns.

A sign at the village’s entrance, carved into a slab of weathered wood, read “ Kampung Aman ” in both earthen and alien script, the letters glowing faintly with a bioluminescent moss that clung to the surface.

Ami read the sign aloud, her voice flat but intrigued.
“Well.... this is the place.”

The village was a vibrant, eclectic community, its inhabitants a mix of humans, humanoids and other lifeforms.

In almost the blink of an eye, a particular family of aliens with turquoise and blue skin ambled up to the two with beaming faces, eager to welcome the visitors to their town.

The mother of the group, her turquoise skin shimmering, communicated her happiness through emojis and words generated between her antennae, a heart and a happy face flashing above her head as she greeted Manalastas. The daughter, her blue skin contrasting with her red eyes, waved shyly, a small smile emoji flickering between her antennae.

Manalastas led Ami on a tour of the village, his deep voice warm as he introduced her to the locals. They started with the stilt longhouses, their interiors cool and dim, the walls adorned with traditional textiles. These were fabrics woven with subtle patterns of waves and stars, their colors muted but intricate, a testament to the villagers’ craftsmanship. Ami ran her fingers over the fabric, her pink eyes narrowing thoughtfully, though she said nothing.

Next, they visited the village’s sacred center, a massive banyan tree in the middle of the settlement, its gnarled roots sprawling across the ground, its branches heavy with aerial roots that swayed in the breeze.
At the tree’s base stood a small statue of Aku, no bigger than 30 centimeters, carved from black stone and glowing faintly with faith essence, its red-orange eyes glinting ominously.
Offerings surrounded it; rice grains, calamansi leaves, and a halved coconut, their citrusy scent mingling with the earthy aroma of the jungle. Ami stared at the statue, her expression unreadable, the glow of the statue’s faith reflecting in her pink eyes being it’s response.

They moved on to the village’s crops and farms, small paddy fields tucked into clearings within the forest, their green shoots vibrant against the dark soil. Nearby were tubs of alien organisms, prawn-like creatures with glowing blue shells, tiny crabs with iridescent claws, and sea urchins that pulsed with a soft violet light, their spines twitching in the filtered water.

Manalastas explained gingerly, his tone booming with excitement as he animatedly gestured his anthropomorphic hands to a strange machine, “Aku installed filtration systems for these farms—keeps the water clean, boosts production.”

He gestured to a complex-looking machine near a stream, its pipes humming softly, knobs for temperature and flow control glinting in the sunlight.

Ami watched as Manalastas interviewed the Emoji Villagers, their antennae flashing with emojis in quick succession as they spoke.

The Emoji mother beamed, a heart and a gaudy happy face appearing above her head.
“Pak Las, Ang Dinakila has blessed us once again!” she said, her voice a melodic hum.

She gestured to the filtration machine situated on some stilts, snug in the muddy riverbanks, its pipes snaking into the stream, drawing up massive amounts of water with an almost unnatural speed, as if the very river was compelled to serve it’s duty of providing prosperity and opportunity for the disenfranchised.

“The Lord recently sent a delegation to install new water purifiers here, and it’s really improved our quality of life.”

A thumbs-up emoji with Aku’s grinning demonic face flickered between her antennae, her purple eyes glowing with gratitude.

The child of the emoji troupe, her blue skin shimmering, ran up to Ami, holding up a small wind-up chicken toy, its plastic beak clacking as it waddled in his hands.

“Oh oh! And Tuan Aku came along with some strange men and gave me this!” she chirped, a star emoji flashing above his head.

Ami squinted at the toy, her voice flat, almost bored and disdainful. “A wind-up… chicken… toy…?”

Manalastas threw his head back and guffawed, his laughter echoing through the village. “Oh, what hilarity. Lord Aku, as gracious as he is, really has helped improve the lives of rural communities.”

Ami’s eyes narrowed, her gaze lowering as she muttered, “…yeah.”

Her voice was quieter as another, “Oh yeah,” escaped her lips.
Her face was a mix of skepticism, amusement, and yet trepidation, the glow of the Aku statue beneath the village’s sacred tree still lingering in her mind.


A while later, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the village in a warm orange glow, Ami and Manalastas sat cross-legged in one of the stilted longhouses, a small electric fan whirring softly in the corner, its breeze a welcome relief from the jungle’s heat. They ate a meal prepared by the emoji villagers—sticky rice with a fiery sauce that seemed to scorch their tastebuds, grilled prawns, freshly harvested just hours before, and a tangy calamansi drink, the flavors sharp and vibrant.

The Emoji Villagers watched, their antennae flashing disapproving emojis, frowning faces and crossed arms, as Ami and Manalastas ate messily, their manners uncouth, sauce dripping down their chins.

Ami leaned back, her stomach full, letting out a loud, “Burrrrp,” her eyes half-lidded with satisfaction.

Manalastas wiped his dark lips with the back of his hand, exhaling through his bovine muzzle with a contented sigh, the heat and scent of the sauce still lingering on his breath. He stood, adjusting his immaculately ironed trousers, his red eyes softening as he looked at Ami.

“I trust that you will be able to handle this situation alone?” he asked, his voice deep and steady.

Ami wiped the last of the food bits off her mouth with her sleeve, her voice lazy, yet wrapped in a cocoon of confidence and bravado.

“Mmm yes… small fry really.”

She stretched, her blazer rumpled, her ballerina flats scuffed from the trek.

Manalastas pulled out his phone from his trousers, its screen glowing faintly as he checked a message.

“That’s good…” he said, his tone warm.

“I have faith in you, Countess Ami.”

He bowed to the Emoji Villagers, shaking their hands with a firm grip, their antennae flashing graphics of gratuity—smiling faces and hearts—as he stepped out of the longhouse into the evening light, his massive form disappearing down the path that led back toward the maglev station.

Ami scoffed, scratching her head as she muttered to herself, “Why the hell does everyone call me that shitty name… fucking hell.”

She stood, brushing off her blazer, the electric fan whirring softly behind her as the sky further darkened with the looming blanket of the night as the jungle’s chorus of insects and other creatures of the wild grew louder in the distance.


As night draped itself over the jungle, the longhouse’s fan kept spinning, but the air had gone still.
Too still.

The villagers whispered. A crying emoji flickered above one antenna.

“The Bone Ghost took my wife’s foetus,” one villager said, his emojis scrambled—praying hands overlapping skulls.

“Oh,” Ami thought, sipping her calamansi drink, “so that’s what we’re doing now.”

They spoke of a temple.

Abandoned, cursed, swallowed by the jungle.

Name...? Pura…. something.

Overgrown.

Breathing with a curse that shouldn’t be there… yet was.

 

Another villager, his red eyes glowing softly, mentioned in passing an abandoned temple deep in the forest, a place they believed the Bone Ghost resided in or around.

“It’s old… sacred, but cursed,” he said, a skull flashing above his antennae, his voice trembling.

Ami’s grin widened, her pink eyes glinting with a mix of excitement and resolve as she stood, wiping the last of the food particles from her mouth.

“Oh, this is juicy, this is spicy,” She mused, her voice dripping with anticipation.

Some of the villagers pleaded, some prostrating before her, their antennae flashing desperate emojis, hands clasped in prayer, tears streaming down their faces as they begged for her help.

Ami placed her hand on her palm, her pink eyes glowing with resolve, the shadows of the longhouse dancing across her face.

“I’ll solve this problem for you,” she said, her voice firm but tinged with a playful, yet conniving bite as she stood up amongst the emoji family.

Her ballerina flats gracefully pattered across the floor as she made her way to the entrance of the house, a sly, Cheshire cat-esque grin slowly seeping into her petite features.

“I know you all poor things must have suffered for so long.”

“I know you have faith in me, too.” 

Chapter 27: CXXVII

Chapter Text

 












E-108 shimmered with heat and tension, the once-sacred temple plaza, now a defaced monument to Aku’s reign, was filled with bloodied rebel bodies and smoke from extinguished sacred lamps. The sun, high and unrelenting, bore down on the obsidian steps like divine judgment across the corpses of the sinners scattered across the dusty road.

A monument to a dated era, he stood in the center of it all, his gi tattered, his wild hair plastered to his brow with sweat and grime, his sword gripped tight and gleaming in the dust-filtered light.

Across from him, Devansh towered. The stone elephant golem’s breath came in quiet rumbles, his cracked skin glowing faintly with pulsing amber veins, the red and yellow bangles on his arms ringing softly as he stepped forward.
Around them, ten of Aku’s troops, armored, masked, and silent, closed in with mechanical precision. Their visors reflected Jack’s silhouette, like a hunted beast mirrored a dozen times.

“Stand down, lone warrior,” Devansh rumbled.

Jack said nothing.

A soldier fired.

Jack moved.

In a burst of fury, he spun and deflected the bolt, slicing clean through the weapon’s barrel. Then, like a gale given form, he launched forward. His blade cut with purpose—never lethal, but disabling, humiliating. A visor cracked. An arm was pinned to armor with the hilt of his sword. One soldier fell screaming into a construction site. 

Devansh’s fists crashed into the stone behind Jack like falling meteors. Jack leapt, twisted mid-air, and kicked off Devansh’s shoulder, flipping backwards and slicing a banner rope mid-spin. A stray insignia dropped and crashed around one soldier’s face, blinding him before Jack swept his legs and sent him tumbling.

"You fight with purpose," Devansh muttered, stepping through the chaos.

“But not faith.”

Jack’s chest heaved. His hand trembled on the hilt.

Another wave. More soldiers surged, two firing taser bolts that seared into the tiles of the plaza’s front. Jack winced, one grazed his shoulder, another struck his calf. He collapsed for just a second, just long enough for Devansh to lunge.

Stone arms slammed into Jack’s chest, lifting him and slamming him against a pillar. The impact cracked the obsidian. Jack choked, blood dribbling from his mouth.

“Lay down your blade,” Devansh said. “Your time is over.”

Jack coughed, eyes bleary.

“No,” he rasped. “You… serve nothing real.”

Devansh flinched. Just slightly.

Seizing the moment, Jack thrust his sword not at Devansh, but at the ground.

With one deafening strike, he splintered the stone beneath them.

The plaza collapsed inward; the rebels’ blood mixing with sacred dust, the battle sliding into rubble. The sudden quake threw off the soldiers’ aim.
Jack landed hard on a fractured slab, rolled, slashed through another of Aku’s troops leg armor, and like a phantasmal remnant of a timeline long erased, vanished into the smoke as the temple cracked.

As the plaza collapsed in a roar of dust and rubble, the Samurai seized the moment—using the thick cloud kicked up by the battle’s flurry to cloak his movements.

“This…!”

Devansh staggered, his amber eyes dimming as he struggled to regain his bearings, his stone form creaking under the strain. In that fleeting vulnerability, the once-spritely Samurai lunged forward, his sacred sword flashing through the haze, slashing deep into Devansh’s throat.

Clunk.

The stony joint that held the golem’s head in place—housing his jiva—split with a sickening crack, amber light draining from the wound like the smoke from a pile of embers, fading into the air as his massive form slumped lifeless amidst the wreckage, the clangs of his bangles fading into inaudibility, much like his life force. 

A young soldier’s voice came through a radio:

“Devansh, our leader.”

“He’s gone.”

“That strange man with a sword vanquished Aku’s top aide.”

Devansh didn’t respond. He stared at the wreckage. At the broken torana of the temple. 

At where the Samurai once stood.

As his life force drifted from his rocky body, now reduced to rubble and dust on the side of the road near a broken temple, Devansh’s last thoughts filled his head, his beady eyes blinking one last time, before everything faded to black.

“If only…” 



Once, long ago, Bhumanagara was verdant with faith.

Before obsidian walls and laser towers, the people prayed to the Earth Mother, in shrines carved of rosewood and jade. Rain came on time. Crops flourished. Insects obeyed the hands of those who whispered hymns.

And in one village, now lost to the sands of time, a lonely old stone carver named Gaurav had prayed daily at the foot of a Prithvi statue. He had no heir. No wife. Only the devotion to the gods fueled his atman, kept the fire to live in his soul ablaze for as long as he could live.

So he made sculptures. A new one every year.

One day, he built an elephant. Not large, but proud. Eyes wide, trunk raised, tusks shaped like crescent moons. He laid his usual puja offering before the statue: haldi, banana leaves, some ghee on a copper tray.

And that night… she came.

In a dream of lotus petals and rivers, serenely flowing down endless hills and mountains, flora and fauna blooming and thriving at their banks, A woman, clad in   simple, flowing garments, reminiscent of the tranquil colours of the flora and fauna thriving near their banks, approached the lifeless golem, and cupped it’s cheek tenderly, her face beaming and radiant, almost seeming to cast rays of light on her copper-toned skin.

“You may not be flesh,” she said. “But the man who built you needs company.

“Let his devotion not go unanswered.”

“Be his heir.”

And so, Devansh awoke.

Gaurav wept with joy. He named the newborn golem Devansh—part of the divine.

For years, eons perhaps, Devansh served the village. Hauling rice. Diverting floods. Smiling softly at children who climbed his arms. His stone sparkled with blessing, as if he knew Prithvi Mata. As if this was his destiny every samsara he was remade in.

But then… she stopped answering.

No rain. No signs. No glow from the murti.

The villagers cried. They offered more. They sacrificed.

Still, nothing.

Devansh waited. Years passed. Gaurav, long gone. The roads decayed. People moved out, seeking better opportunities all across the chaos-stained world. Only a few, human and alien,  had been left in the land that was once almost a bustling city-state.

He had gone from land to land, to seek help, yet received none from others. Some turned him away kindly, some with more hostility. Some didn’t even answer him at all.

One day, frustrated with the lack of answers, assistance or even pity from others in this blighted world, the elephant-golem returned to the cracked temple next to his run-down village, overgrown shrubbery and sprouting vegetation covering his chest, his bangles dulled by time, rusted, constant exposure to the elements corroding his ornate accessories in grotesque shades of gray, orange and brown. 

He stood before the idol of Prithvi Mata,  a sense of fury billowing like a cyclone deep in his inner soul. 

“You gave this place life,” he whispered. “And you abandoned us.”

Silence.

“ANSWER ME!”

Stillness.

His fists clenched. Stone cracked.

And just as he raised his arm to smash the idol—

A smooth, amused voice behind him:

“Do show restraint.”

Devansh turned.

There, in polished shoes and a blue tie, was a six-horned demon. Green lips. Flaming brows. A calm, unnerving smile.

“Who are you?” Devansh asked.

“Just a servant of the people,” the dark one replied, a sickening charm in his voice.

“You may call me… Aku.”

The yet-to-be omniscient deity led him outside with a hooded troupe of alien and humanoid suits, a grin like an upturned, jagged crescent on his visage.

“Would you like to work with me to better your land?”

An offer?

After I’d been suffering for so long?

The elephant mused it over and over in the stony cavity that was his hollow skull.

But the choice was easy. There wasn’t much need for deliberation. Not at this point, when he had nothing left to lose.

  “…yes.” “


The demon, giddy with glee, rubbed his hands, delighting in the lack of resistance in Devansh’s tone.

He asked for one thing.

“All I ask… elephant,  is that… you have faith in me.”

At that moment, Devansh knew that this was his destiny, set in stone, not by a god, but by… something else.

Someone, or something with ambitions to be more than just a god.

As they walked to a limousine on the deserted dirt path, the murti of Prithvi Mata cracked, its blue-green glow fading, the temple plunging into darkness.

 




Jack staggered through the jungle, bleeding from the ribs, his sword dragging in the underbrush, the late afternoon sun casting dappled shadows across his path.

The damp, uneven jungle floor pulled at his steps, vines scraped his arms, mosquitoes buzzed in clouds, thorns tore at his gi as he hacked through them with his blade.

He wove through mountains, trees, muddy patches, rock formations, and piles of brambles, each step a battle against his injuries and exhaustion.

In his other hand, he clutched the diya he had seen a child drop earlier in the heat and chaos of the battle, its flame long extinguished, a cold reminder of the hope he’d failed to protect.

He had won, but not truly.

Bhumanagara had chosen Aku’s reign over his rebellion—he was not their saviour.

His heart, long having sunk past the bottom of the emotional

The weight of that truth, and the fracture in his heart—“You’ve lost”—drove him forward, deeper into the jungle, away from the chaos he’d left behind, a wanted man with nowhere to turn.


“This world is unsaveable.”

He paused, catching his breath as he leaned against a massive tree, panting, the teeth of his geta almost catching against a branch, leaving him scrambling for balance, precariously dangling over the edge of a small rocky hole in the ground.
As he regained his balance, his eyes dilated from the strain of battle, he could not stop his trembling hands from the complete physical and emotional collapse he was suffering, as his long, flowy hair stuck to his face.

“I have truly failed.”

He hung his head, letting his tousled mane of wild hair fall past his face in total, unbridled dejection, tears pricking at his eyes. The thought rang out loud and clear in his mind, a reminder of the failure of his original mission to liberate billions from the world that Aku had once built.

“...There will never be peace in an environment like this.”





Down in a cave hidden from the prying eyes of the world, bony protrusions dripped from the ceiling like clockwork, bones jutting out like thorns from a rose stalk, the atmosphere dense and iron-tanged with the scent of decay. The shroud of a crimson glow, almost haze-like, filled the entire realm like bromine seeping from a cracked test tube.  A cochlea-shaped machine whirred eerily in the center of a gnarled, jagged hourglass-like support structure, its hum a low, ominous pulse.

Aku leaned against a saw-edged stone desk, clad in his suit and blue tie, tapping a claw as he spoke on a smartphone, his voice a mix of exhaustion and menace.

 

“Yes, dear,” he said, tone tired, “I’m aware Jack escaped.”

Ashi’s voice crackled through the speaker, “Father, that fugitive killed Devansh… How can we let him escape?”

Aku sighed, rolling his eyes, “Let him think he’s won. Let him bleed in the woods. You don’t need to spend too many resources pursuing him.”

Ashi, appalled, pressed, “So… we just… leave him be…?”

Aku’s frustration boiled over, his fist slamming the desk, “Yes. Seriously..”

“Okay... if you say so... I'll listen.” was the timid response, as Aku could hear Ashi almost shrinking into the seat of her hovercar on the other end.

Exhaling to control his temper, Aku softened, trying to feign a soft lilt into his usually conniving tone.

“That’s my girl… Ashi. Listen.”

“Excellent performance today.”

Ashi reported her status, now in a hovercar ride to a safer part of Bhumanagara, awaiting his next order for her to carry out.

“Apologies for the delay,” Aku added, scratching his nose, “I’ll have a new task for you soon. You may hang up now.”

“Okay.. okay. Bye… Father Aku.” Ashi replied, and the line clicked off.

Aku exhaled, muttering, “That girl… always wants to do things by the book,” as he placed the phone on the gnarled table.

From the shadows, the High Priestess Azumi stepped forward—tall, proud, her cloak of darkness shrouding her, boots grinding against the wet, decrepit floor, arms folded over her black turtleneck jacket, long dark hair flowing in the slight breeze of the cavern.

“My dear, Azumi~” Aku sang, his tone almost buoyant and jaunty, grinning as his neatly polished shoes scraped against the damp, gravel-studded floor of the cave.

High Priestess, tinkering with knobs on the cochlea-shaped machine, nodded, “Yes, my lord?”

Aku began, “Who’s the poor soul going to—”

He stopped abruptly, as if the world had locked his gait in place. His eyes widened and his jaw hinged slightly open at a woman on the floor: clad in a black catsuit, half-beaten, bruised, unconscious, blood dried at her temple, purple strands of hair clinging to her face like leeches to bare skin.

Despite the injuries, he noted the slight movements of her torso, showing that she was breathing.

Just barely. 

The Priestess spoke once again. Her voice was cold.

“Agent K. She failed. Ami beat her half to death in E-273. And then left her. As a message.”

Aku raised a flaming eyebrow, “Ami took care of her first?”


The High Priestess simply nodded, rubbing a red, diamond-like crystal while inspecting the cochlea-machine like a hawk, the gem’s foreboding hue casting crimson shades on her face.

Aku turned to the unconscious woman, his smile like a parent praising a misbehaving pet, in an attempt to masquerade his true intentions

“Oh, Kuni. My sweet Kuni.”

“Failure is not the end of the line for you… yet.”

Chapter 28: CXXVIII

Chapter Text

The sun bled into the treetops as Jack crouched near a small, hissing fire in the clearing, surrounded by endless jungle.
Orange and purple streaks clawed across the sky like tendrils of a molten lava monster, the dusk seemingly aware of it’s imminent replacement by the inky blackness,  and the shadows of the sal, teak and banyan trees grew long and restless, dancing around the exhausted, bushed man like shadows of a demon mocking him no matter where he went or what he did. 

The weary samurai worked silently, carving out a bamboo stalk with his battered sword, blood dripping from his chin. His gi hung in shreds off his frame; the fresh wounds from Bhumanagara’s battle throbbed under the humid weight of the air.

Mosquitoes buzzed in dense clouds, alien leeches slithered blindly in the mud, and from somewhere in the brambles, a creature shrieked—a raw, mindless sound that barely registered to him anymore.

As if more of a reflex than a conscious decision, he jammed the carved bamboo over the fire. Within minutes, it was boiling. He added leaves he’d just simply grabbed from a species of plant unfamiliar to his present knowledge, the steam rising with a bitter, metallic scent.

It was pitiful, really.
A desperate mimicry of the old days.
But somehow, he needed this.
Some ritual to remind himself he was still alive.

The steam curled upward, and through it, he saw another world.

He was a boy again, no older than five, kneeling beside his mother in the palace’s chashitsu.
The polished floors. The chrysanthemums outside the paper doors. His mother, serene in her green and peach robes, teaching him to pour tea from the kyusu.

"Patience, my son," she had said, smiling as she guided his trembling hands. "Tea must flow like a river, not crash like a wave. Do not disturb the spirit."

He closed his eyes. He could almost smell the rich, grassy aroma. Almost feel the warmth of simpler days, before Aku, before exile, before... all of this.

The bamboo pot trembled in his hands.

The water sloshed, spilling.
The spirit of the tea was broken.

Jack opened his eyes to the jungle again, the rising steam warping the trees into monstrous silhouettes. His stomach twisted.
The memory... it twisted, too.

The Scotsman appeared first, kilt torn, claymore shattered across his back.
“Laddie…” he blurted out, voice hollow. “Wasn’t it all for naught?”

The Woolies followed, their once-soft fur matted with black tar, teeth gnashing in silent agony.

The Imakandi stalked the perimeter, their lean forms bent and groaning, their proud roars choked into whimpers.

In the distance, he swore he could see Da Samurai, aged and beaten, stood on a cracked street of Megalopolis E-273, patting the shoulder of his daughter Aisha.
Together, they hauled a frightened man into a reeducation van, under Aku’s watchful banners.

“Ayy, Samurai,” Da Samurai called out across the years, grinning with deadened eyes. “Don’t worry, man. We GOOD. We THRIVING.”

Jack flinched.

Then, last of all, they came—the Emperor and the Empress.
His father in his tan sokutai. His mother in a flowing green and peach junihitoe, one that she’d worn on days when she was feeling especially regal, yet soft and motherly.

His parents, lines across their faces and stage of life speaking louder than words could ever, kneeling before him, palms pressed in prayer.

"Son," his father whispered. "Please do not burden yourself."
"We love you from across space and time," his mother said, voice cracking, "and we know you will understand the truth of the world. It is the only way to vanquish our enemy, Aku."
"We have faith in you, son."

Their forms dissolved into smoke.

The clearing shrank around him, the jungle howling with invisible mouths.

Jack stared at the cold bamboo tea in his hands.
A gaping hole gnawed inside him where his faith once lived.

He whispered to the dying sky:

“…What has this world come to?”

A branch snapped in the underbrush.

In an instant, Jack’s hand flew to his sword as shadowed eyes flickered between the trees.


Dusk slipped into night like a thief past guards, spreading over the shades of vivid, brilliant orange, a marsh-like wetlands on the outskirts of the sparkling neon skyline of E-877, the silhouettes of tall, spiralling buildings teeming with business, commerce, hustle and bustle inside over the horizon.

By a murky pond, shaded by the hanging fronds of trees, their branches almost seeming to reach out for the cambion like disembodied, zombified hands, Ami stood alone, her black blazer stuck to her skin, moonlight catching the slight sheen of her sweat on her forehead.

She pulled the pounamu jade from her pocket, scoffing as she huffed slightly in the dusky air, her breaths slow, feeling the gas of her own exhale adhering to her weary face.

It no longer blazed a bedazzling shade of blue, like it had when lightning had struck the portly tribe leader, Whetu, or when she and Jack stole it from the tribe, or when she and Jack had used it’s power to break through the barrier of squalls that normally would have expelled would-be visitors via strong gales and punishing ocean currents.

Now it merely pulsed, soft, stubborn, faint.

Ami huffed, brushing damp hair out of her face.

“Oh, man. Maybe I was wrong to keep this thing,” she muttered, scoffing. “Should’ve left it on the Stormchaser. Should’ve taken the Stormchaser with me.”

She snickered bitterly.

“Oh right. I don’t know the ins-and-outs of boat fuel and propulsion.”

She squatted by the water, fanning her collar even more dramatically, swatting an occasional unidentifiable insect or two off exposed skin.

“Fuck me. I had to build trust with those emoji freaks earlier just to verify they still worshipped Aku for the bull-dude. This place is a fucking nightmare.

The pond rippled.

Ami paused.

Another ripple.

Another.

She squinted, pink eyes glinting in the dark.

SPLASH.

A writhing fish hurled itself onto the mud, flopping pitifully.

Ami yelped, jumping back with a clumsy kick, arms flailing.

“THE FUCK—”

She stared at the fish, now twitching its last.

Then she cackled.

“A fucking FISH? All that drama for this?”

She turned her gaze back to the clouds drifting over the moon.

“Man… you’re outta your element. Fucking hell,” she muttered, rubbing her temple.

“Aren’t you too…?”

Something snarled, low yet loud from the trees, like a low, pained growl. The foliage behind her rustled as if someone; or something had been waiting eons for such an opportunity.

 

Ami froze.

Slowly, she turned.

From the choking vines, from the suffocating blackness.


Crawled a horror.

A blackened skull, strung together with corkscrewing tendons and a broken ribcage.
Entrails dragged behind it like rotted curtains.
Teeth sharpened to jagged points.
Empty sockets burning with hate.

 

Ami's mouth fell open in pure, horrified awe.

"Fucking—"

It lunged.

Ami twisted away with a grunt, slipping sideways. Her left foot caught a horribly placed rock, embedded deep in the muddy shores of the pond.

“Ah fuck.”

Her foot splashed…

Yet, it didn’t sink.

SHE didn’t sink.

She stood on the pond’s surface, the pounamu glowing fiercely on her wrist, casting ripples of pink light upon the surface of the pond and the surrounding foliage, as if the jade itself had decided that fortune favoured the bold and daring.

“....” 

The macabre spectre of what was once a human being recoiled mid-air, confusion flashing across it’s skull.
It had expected an easy win. Dive straight into the pond, and maul the cocky woman once and for all.

Instead, it got this.

“What… the…” it rasped, it’s decayed, frayed vocal chords trying to produce an approximation of a normal human’s speech. 

Ami laughed, high and piercing, balancing lightly atop the pond, blazer whipping in the rising wind.

"Oh man.”

She beckoned mockingly, outstretching her arm and flicking her left hand at the grotesque looking abomination in front of her as the winds suddenly picked up speed, blowing her locks of hair into her face as a devilish sneer slowly carved itself onto her face.

She rolled up her sleeves, shrugging her shoulders with an audible CRACK.

"Come at me, you barely coherent half of a human!"

The stars dimmed. The moon almost split in half itself.

The Bone Ghost let out an eardrum-piercing, soul-shattering scream; and Round One began. 

 

Chapter 29: CXXIX

Chapter Text



Twilight smeared purple bruises across the sky as Jack stood alone in the jungle, the sticky air clinging to his torn gi and bruised ribs. His sacred sword was steady in his grip, though his hands trembled from fatigue, from the crushing emptiness.

The trees swayed. The vines hissed.
A sound, meek and broken, crawled from the shadows.

"…Baaa."

Three pairs of glowing purple eyes staggered into the clearing.

Jack’s breath hitched. His knuckles whitened around the hilt.

They were rams.
Once tiny, gentle creatures of the mountains, now twisted into something grotesque. Half of their bodies still clung to tufts of soft, purple wool — the other half was a matted, inky blackness, dripping slow, viscous rot that steamed where it hit the ground. Their horns were misshapen, warped into cruel, spiked spirals. Their eyes glowed with a sickly, haunted light.

Jack’s stomach turned.

"What... what are you..." he whispered, his voice shredded and hoarse.

One of them stumbled closer. It let out a faint, broken cry:
"...Suddha... Yoddha..." 

 All three collapsed.
The clearing fell into an oppressive silence, broken only by Jack’s ragged breathing.

He knew them.
He remembered.

The rams that had followed him up that mountain.
The tiny ones who had trusted him.

And the rage, the rage that Aku had stoked inside him, turning Jack’s own hand against them, slaying them without realising... until it was too late.

The guilt ate him up inside. He had killed innocents, pure little things, tainted by Aku’s touch, in his pursuit to go back to the past.

That was unforgivable.

It was why he’d lost his sword in the first place. He never forgave himself for that transgression, not for a long time anyway. 

The memory struck him like a blade through the ribs. His vision blurred.

Slowly, almost reverently… Jack sheathed his sword.

He knelt beside the nearest ram, its mangled body shivering weakly under his hand.
The wool was still soft. Fragile. Innocent.

Tears welled in Jack’s eyes as he whispered, "It’s alright... I’m not your enemy."

The ram's glowing eyes flickered, dimmed.

They were stranded,  just like he was.
Creatures trapped halfway between life and death, abandoned by beings who no longer answered, left to rot in Aku’s broken, rewritten world.

The lone warrior bowed his head, forehead brushing the battered wool.

“I will find a way,” he murmured, voice trembling.
“For both of us.”

Above him, the darkening sky rumbled.
And somewhere, deep in the jungle, the world shifted… as if hearing a vow too old and too painful to break.




Jack blinked in the dim clearing, heart pounding, the corrupted rams still twitching in the soil. One of them stirred, the smallest one, wool barely clinging to its frail frame, clumps of it’s matted coat periodically fluttering to the forest floor. 

It raised one cracked, blackened hoof and beckoned.

“Baaa…”

Jack stood frozen.

His lips parted. “Where could these… three be leading me?”

A moment of hesitation.
Yet, resolve.

He tucked the weakest ram carefully into his arms, holding it against his chest.
The other two turned slowly, limping back into the forest, glancing back every few steps. Jack followed without another word, sheathing his sword but keeping it close.

He moved swiftly, slicing through vines, stepping over foliage-choked roots, pushing through curtains of thick ferns. The jungle swallowed him whole. Every step deeper felt like a descent into memory, into grief. Birds quieted as he passed. A distant growl echoed and vanished.

The two leading rams hobbled through a crumbling stone arch, nearly hidden beneath overgrowth.

The samurai stepped through, expecting a breather, some respite, some relief after everything he’d gone through. 

He froze.

Ahead, barely visible through the vines and collapsed rubble, stood a forgotten temple-fortress.
Built of dark stone, its pillars etched with swirling carvings of horns, constellations, and time spirals. Statues of rams, untouched, uncorrupted, watched from each corner, their stone gazes solemn.

Jack’s eyes widened, his geta keyed into the roots snaking through the damp forest floor.

His breath caught in his throat.

“What…?”


The night had fully fallen over E-877 and it’s surroundings.
The pond outside Kampung Aman gleamed black under the moon’s broken light, the trees arching overhead like skeletal hands.

Ami stood on the water’s surface, the pounamu  glowing pink against her wrist, keeping her aloft.

“Ha… I’m almost bored to death here…” Ami scoffed, a look of dispassion colouring her pale, moonlight-coated face.

“You’re only half a human.”
Her manicured pointer hovered accusingly, almost annoyingly indignant at the half-skeletal ghoul in front of her.

Across the pond, the Bone Ghost circled,  a blackened skull grinning hungrily, attached to a half-rotted ribcage that floated in and out of the mist, a grotesque spectre phasing in and out of realms. 

Ami spun lightly on her heel, dodging a snap of sharpened teeth, and elbowed the Bone Ghost across its thorax.
The ribs shuddered, then slammed back across the water, spraying a wave of foul, algae-streaked droplets into the air.

"Devour," hissed the Bone Ghost, its voice a brittle croak.

Ami cackled under her breath, kicking up a murky wall of pond water to drive it back, the spectre letting out a light shriek as the splashes lapped at it’s bones like thirsty bloodhounds.

"You’re pathetic," she muttered, watching the soaked specter pluck a limp alien fish from between its ribs.

The ghost said nothing.
It just floated there.

A scream broke the harsh silence. 

A sound so sharp, so wrong, it shredded the night like paper.
Birds fled in flocks. Insects screeched and scattered.

Ami winced, blood trickling from one ear. Gritting her teeth as she felt her legs nearly turn into pure cartilage, her gaze darkened, thunderclouds almost forming over her face as she wiped her lip with the back of her fist.

"You wanna play like that?" she muttered.

Two shimmering kunai flared into her hands, glowing a diaphanous mixture of pink and green, as if the jade she’d stolen from the sunken tribe had accepted her as it’s new master.

She darted forward.

The hideous spectre lunged.

KLINK.

The kunai shattered against its rotted chest, splinters of pink energy raining into the swamp.

"AHK—!"

The being’s ribcage slammed Ami backwards, her back colliding with a tree trunk, splintering the wood, the sound as agonising as the pain shooting up through her spine.

Before she could recover–
Sharp teeth sank into her right arm.

Ami gasped, lips curling in feral rage.

Time slowed, the sounds of the world falling silent.

“It tried to go for my stomach.:

"If my arm hadn’t been there…:"

She grimaced, and with a pained grunt, she threw herself forward, off the remains of the tree the wrathful creature had slammed her into, then drove her knee into the Bone Ghost’s thorax with all her strength.

CRUNCH.
The ribcage snapped off completely, flying off to some unknown place in the jungle.

The skull stayed latched onto her arm — gnawing, snarling.

"Persistent little bitch," Ami hissed, baring her teeth.

She wound back her fist, and punched the skull square in its cheekbone, splintering the decaying, bone inward with a sharp, gut-churning sound

The Bone Ghost shrieked, unhinging its jaw grotesquely…

…before dissolving into black mist, it’s anguished screech trailing away into the tree canopy just before she had time to react. 

Ami stumbled, panting, blood soaking her white shirt, her ballerina flats full of mud and broken twigs.

She wiped her bleeding arm across her face, smearing crimson across her nose and cheek.

Her pink eyes glinted as she stared into the darkness where the ghost had fled.

"You’re flaking out so soon?" she said, voice rough but dripping with delighted malice.

She grinned.

Tasting the blood in the air, hers, the monster’s, the jungle’s, she licked her lips, savouring it.

"I know it’s you," she whispered.

"Aoi."

The jungle answered only with silence, and the distant howl of something far older, far angrier, than either of them.

Chapter 30: CXXX

Chapter Text

Water dripped from red, stalactite-like bone. The ceiling crackled with fractures that glowed like open wounds, their arteries pulsing crimson in tune with the whir of the machine at the chamber’s centre. In the hourglass-shaped column, a cochlea-shaped device pulsed silently, its spirals humming with impossible rhythms, a lullaby for unraveling dimensions.

Aku stood beside it, his dark suit pristine despite the blood-slick rock underfoot. His blue flames flickered across his goatee and eyebrows, casting ghastly shadows along the cavern walls. He ran a clawed hand across the machine’s curvature, fingers drumming thoughtfully.

“These… scientists I employed,” he began with a soft chuckle, “they called it the Reality Breaker . Isn’t that lovely?”

High Priestess stood beside him, her long, dark coat folding around her like a raven’s wings. She examined the glitched air above the cochlea.
“The side effects are unstable. Rams in E-108. Souls in E-877. Efficiency has dropped.”

Aku scoffed, waving a dismissive hand.
“Dear Azumi… efficiency is not what we pursue. Change, my dear, takes time.”

She folded her arms, eyes glowing faintly beneath the hood. “It’s beginning to draw attention.”

“They always notice when it's too late,” Aku replied, stepping lightly across a puddle of dark abyssal sludge.

“Odin, Ra, Rama… they’re all watching, you know. They’re trembling now.”

“They’re trembling at my newfound power.”

He approached Kuni, still slumped near the jagged wall. The former haunted child, now the Priestess’s field agent, winced as she stirred. Her chinchilla keychain dangled from her fingers, tail soaked with her blood, and the black molasses-like substance that mottled the floor of the cavern.
Her lavender eyes, once innocent, now sullied, fluttered open, and instantly flickered to fear as her mental state collapsed into mush.

Aku crouched, patting her gently on the cheek. “Kuni. You’re safe.”

“Aku-san,” she whispered, trembling. “I—I failed…”

“You’re not indebted. You’re mine,” Aku purred. “And without me, you’d be dead.”

The tall woman spoke without turning. “One blow from the pink-eyed one.”

“I’m aware,” Aku said coolly.

“And that’s what makes it so much more exciting.”

A low rumble pulsed through the chamber, the machine blinking blue for just a moment, as if something, somewhere, had stirred.

 


The cover of the jungle trees had thinned, from a thick, dense cover to a more manageable layer of foliage . Jack’s feet sunk into stone and verdure as he approached the crumbling fortress the rams had led him to.

It was not a temple, nor a shrine. This place was functional, brutal. Cobblestone walls loomed in fractured heaps, half-swallowed by vines. Rain had long since eroded the engravings. But even through the decay, he could see, Aku's jagged 6 horned sigil, glowing faintly blue on a column, plant growth popping out of it’s cracks, threatening to disintegrate the structure from within. 

The rams whimpered. One limped ahead, the corrupted half of its face sagging with tar-like blight. Another collapsed beside him, twitching, its glowing eyes flickering between innocence and agony.

Jack sheathed his sword. “I have to help them,” he murmured, lifting the smallest into his arms.

Inside, a hall of shattered idols greeted him. Broken limbs of forgotten deities. Dusty altars and split-faced icons. But at the heart, set like a tumour—was the machine.

A cochlea spiral hummed and pulsed with light, purple-black ripples spiraling outward.
Every wave distorted reality.
The rams’ forms spasmed in sync, purple fur peeling back into corrupted hide, teeth extending grotesquely.

The bleary eyes of the Samurai widened. He gripped the sides of his gi in horror.

“This..." 

He drew his blade, stepping toward it.

The air screamed without sound.

The rams collapsed. The machine pulsed violently.

Jack cried out, “No—!”

Too late.

One ram’s face twisted into a demonic bull-like form—the same as in the erased timeline. Another’s hooves dug into the stone, curling in pain. The third stared at him with human-like pleading.

“I—”

The machine blinked.

Suddenly, the void cracked open.
Reality peeled.

Jack was pulled. The world folded inwards with a choking gasp.




Ami clawed her way out of the dense underbrush, a symphony of rustling leaves and snapping twigs announcing her arrival. Scratches, thin red lines etched across her exposed skin, wept tiny beads of blood that mingled with the glistening muck clinging to her. Her once-sharp black blazer hung in tatters, ripped and stained with mud, while her delicate ballerina flats were ruined beyond recognition, sodden and torn, clinging precariously to her mud-caked feet. The pounamu jade, a vibrant green against the grime, was bound to her wrist with strips of ripped gauze, now soaked and discolored, yet it palpated with a faint, internal luminescence, a stubborn spark of power amidst the devastation.

A river blocked her path, swollen with storm runoff. She raised her brow.

“Really?”

Lifting her hand, she flared the jade’s power. The waters parted with a roar, steam hissing from the sudden heat. She walked through the gap, muttering, “Moses who?”

Beyond the river, the temple loomed ahead, like the walls of a once-intimidating canyon, who’s ferocity and importance had been washed away by the flowing currents of time.

She spotted a cracked sign,  one line in a font lost to time, the other seemingly legible. Brushing away the warped vines and the fuzz of the moss that plagued the legibility of the sign, she diligently sounded out the letters in her mind.

P-U-R-A K-A-L-A-N-G-I-T.

“Pura Kalangit, huh? Cute shrine, I guess,” she muttered, cackling to herself as she ascended the slick, moss-covered steps, her ballerina flats squelching with jungle mud.

Its entrance loomed ahead—overgrown and cracking, yet impossibly sacred. The gates bore glyphs worn to stone-pale ghosts. Moss blanketed the crumbling arches of the split gateway, and long-dead flags rustled in winds, howling like phantoms that had yet to receive long overdue rest

At the summit, she found three strange figures huddled in front of a  structure, resembling a pagoda with a masonry base, a wooden chamber, and multi-tiered thatched roofs. Under the curious structure was a small little containment chamber, where a cochlea-shaped machine hummed as a small yellow shard rotated pitifully over it, as if it was resigned to it’s fate to be a pawn of whatever was siphoning it’s power.

“Huh…” was Ami’s slightly weary, yet confused response.

She tensed up, as her eyes swiveled to her left. 

Three figures hunched around each other, as their phantasmal whispers, carried by the misty tendrils of the gentle breeze, reached Ami’s ears.

The cryptids.

The keepers of this repurposed sanctuary of divinity.

A ghostly pregnant woman, belly swollen with a fetus that twisted beneath her skin.
Something that vaguely resembled a ferret, almost seeming as if it was stuck in between the realm of the living and the dead, with moss on its spine and antlers branching like the bones of extinct coral reefs.
Another, dwarfish goblin thing with a grin too wide and eyes which blinked sideways, like that of an amphibian’s. 

They turned to meet Ami’s gaze, looks of disdain on their grotesque faces.

The pregnant being’s mouth moved first, incredulity oozing from it’s tone.

“Who are you?”

The ferret piped up.

“Didn’t you hear of us as the Ancaman Bertiga?”

Ami blinked, her face irradiant of enthusiasm.

“No. Haven’t heard of that.” 

The small goblin shuffled over to her, a spear-like staff in it’s hands, an exasperated exhale from it’s chapped lips.

“Let me put it in a language that you understand. Do you know of the…

The two other beings behind the small goblin thing chuckled darkly.

“... Triple Threat ?”

A neuron connected to another in Ami’s mind as a memory stirred in her mind, weary, yet still snarky.
Manalastas, the bull-man she’d met at the port, mentioning that in the village of Kampung Aman, there’d been ghosts that haunted the area before the demon had arrived on the scene.

How she’d heard that 7 years ago, the hauntings stopped after her father had come in to the village as a nobody, and left with the praise and the faith of every villager in the rural areas away from the city.


“She… she died. He killed her.” The goblin’s response shook Ami back to reality.

She cleared her throat, stepped into the moonlight, licking dried blood from her lip. “Guess what,” she said flatly, the grin on her face widening as the

“I’m the better version.”

The ferret thing cocked it's head, facing Ami. 

“You are not her.”

“She had yellow eyes,” muttered the elfish thing.

“You reek of pink…”

Ami tilted her head. “That’s the scent of a second chance, you decaying-”

The ghostly woman lunged, dark, pungent fluid trailing from her stomach. 

Ami pivoted, expecting an easy escape.

“...!!!!?”

Her face contracted in surprise as tendrils, crackling with corrupted energy, erupted from the floor, black-purple chains snaring her ankles and wrists. 

“The fuck—?” she cursed, snarling venomously at her captors. Twisting her ankle did no good. The chains were too strong. 

"Oh yes, yes. Ami." 

From behind her, warm, carious breath kissed her neck.

The bony spectre only smiled, it's tether to sanity wasted away with the years of rot and decay.

  “You… deserve this.”

Ami’s pupils narrowed, gnashing her teeth in response to the return of the spectre she thought she’d won over.

“Let me guess. You’re their little pawn now?”

“I’m aware…”

The ghost whispered.

“Yet unable to fight it.”

"You left me when I needed you.”


“Now… that pregnant Pontianak over there… that stupidly sized Leyak… and that putrid stinking polecat that calls itself a Bajang… they'll make you join me...”

“And…”


Aoi grinned, using the tendrils sprouting from her severed vertebrae to restrain her identical, live septuplet. She was reluctant, yet indulgent in glee at the suffering she would soon cause her sister.

“You’ll know what it’s like for your suffering to be hidden from the rest of the world, too.” 

The Pontianak raised a dagger, slashing downward.

Ami shrieked.

The blade stopped an inch from her cheek.

The jade glowed.

The chains clinked, tightening.

Ami’s grin returned. “Hah… your ritual’s broken, bitch.”

Instantly, she cocked herself back, kicked upward, sending Aoi’s skeletal upper half careening down the steps of the temple, cracking the Bujang's jaw, an antler falling from it’s disfigured head like a tree felled via chainsaw.

The leyak howled. The air snapped, along with the abyssal chains that so aimed to restrict her movement, their remnants wisping away into the night.

And so began Round 2.

Chapter 31: CXXXI

Chapter Text

 


Drip. Drip.

The sound of leaking pipes echoed through the half-lit underground chamber. Fluorescent lights flickered against moss-slick walls. The air smelled of seawater, disinfectant, and failure.

Ari’s eyelids fluttered open.

She saw metal. Peeling white paint. Faded posters of extinct fish on dented file cabinets. Her vision doubled, then narrowed. Her entire left side ached.

"She's waking," came a soft bark.

Ari blinked again. Above her, three familiar snouts hovered. Polished monocles. Bowler hats. Concerned eyes.

"Angus, the splint."

"Aye, right on, Dreyfus."

"Colin, fetch a pillow, quickly now!"

A Bulldog with yellow fur, a bowler hat and a lab coat, another dog with a shaggy, mop-like muzzle wrapped in a blue parka-like garment, and a dachshund with a monocle, a mustache grizzled white with the passage of time, decked out in a black suit and tie, gathered around her like old medics in a trench hospital.

Their paws were busy, yet their faces were stained with anxiety. 

Ari groaned, the pain in her chest a dull, throbbing echo of the boot that had caved it in. Her right arm was encased in a jury-rigged splint made from broken microscope stands and preserved krill tank tubing.

"Fuck," she hissed, dragging a hand across her face. She touched her cheek and winced. Glass scars. Fresh. Jagged.

"Ami beat me too hard," she muttered.

Flashes of pain resurfaced—the glint of pink, the brutal kick, her own blood on the preservation chamber floor. The ancient-looking dude's blade cutting her thrown vial midair, the explosion licking at his skin. |
His disappointment.
Ami’s disdain.

She sat up, trembling.

“Dreyfus… is the lab above… okay?”

Dreyfus adjusted his bowtie and gave a well-mannered cough. “The lab above is… not okay, Lady Ari.”

Angus added solemnly, “It collapsed. Most of it. The containment systems are fried. The spider clams are gone.”

Colin piped up from behind a stacked crate of emergency rations. “And the krill, Lady Ari. The ones you blessed with implanted psionic faith traces. They're… all dead.”

Silence.

Ari’s pupils trembled. She stared at her hands, raw from chemical burns and sliced at the knuckles. Her right one trembled as she reached for a biscuit Colin had left beside her.

She bit it numbly. It crumbled into her lap.

Steam rose from her skin, not from heat, but from rage barely kept under her bones.

"I implanted faith in those krill," she muttered. "Weeks of siphoning patterns. Months of behavioral coding. That was the most stable aquatic belief structure I've ever formed ."

She clenched her good fist.

"And that guy. THAT GUY... had the audacity to say..."

“You could have made the right choice.”

Ari's breath caught. Her vision blurred—not with tears, but the crushing numbness of a thoughtless world grinding her into irrelevance.

"What... am I becoming?" she whispered.

The dogs sat quietly.

Sir Dreyfuss placed a pillow beneath her aching head.

Then, as one, they bowed.

"As Lord Aku’s daughter," Dreyfuss intoned solemnly, "you are our guiding star. We serve no throne but yours."

Ari, sweat-matted hair sticking to her brow, stared at the rusted ceiling, her mouth slightly ajar, her eyelids as sunken as the wreck of the Titanic.. She looked at her reflection in a pool of murky seawater pooled beneath the rusted pipes.

She didn't recognise it.




Jack was falling.
But he never landed.
He stood, but there was no ground.
He breathed, yet there was no air.

Around him time fractured as the void continued to pull him towards it’s singularity, the demon’s laughter as dark crimson, purplish and indigo-tinted spectres float around him, like sharks to an ailing whale.

He swiveled his head, feeling his brain disintegrating at the sight of what was going on. 

A shattered wedding bell, complete with a collapsed torii gate, and dead bodies of all his allies in the past.

His younger self, trembling as he sees his father killing a group of rebellious ronin warriors, whilst he sits in the horse-drawn carriage, wiping blood off his face.

Some of his allies he’d made in the erased timeline– the Scotsman slumped over a table, supporting himself with his one machine gun leg.

The Imakandi, their vaguely leonid countenances, noble and honourable, now twisted into grimaces of disappointment.

Da Samoorai, shrugging as he put an arm around his daughter, his illusion in this timeline almost dejected with the sight of the samurai.


“Jack…”


His left hand trembles, drifting away from the hilt of his sword as his neck locks, eyes transfixed at the sight above him.

Ashi, in white. In the shiromuku.

Ethereal and soft-spoken as he remembered her to be in her final moment, yet fleeting, punished for daring to take her father down.

He could only crumple internally, the burden of the memories too tough to handle. 

“Without Aku… I wouldn’t have existed.”

There is no fear in his reaction to this version of Ashi’s words. Just silence. Just acceptance.
The Ashi he knew.

Gone, reduced to… not even existing.

The Ashi in this timeline remembers nothing.

And her sisters– Ari, the troubled scientist with a penchant for horrific, non-consensual experimentation on sea life, Ami, the psychotic, bloodthirsty septuplet.

He’d killed them both in the erased timeline.

This.

THIS was how they turned out.

THIS, was how it all ended.


Aku had won. Clearly, his prosperity had made more of a mark across this new world than Jack and Ashi’s sacrifice ever had.

As if this damned realm did not want to let up on the excruciating memories, something else… spoke to him

“Even… this is horrific.” He could only mutter, feeling the remaining zest in his mortal vessel drain.

Out of the purplish-brackish cloak of the void, shining  fragments of presumably long erased timelines coalesced into one, a 6 horned visage made of memories, wearing a dozen stolen faces.

It didn't speak at first. It only shifted

And then it opened its repulsive mouth, contempt exuding from its tone, the screaming souls of a hundred million lives the Samurai thought he saved echoing loud and clear in his mind, and in his mind only.




“The foolish Samurai. Thought he belonged somewhere.”

“Thought he’d finally settle down.”

“He can’t.”

“That’s why he…”


Jack winced as a holograph-like projection played behind the gleeful apparition of his #1 enemy, of the time when Aku had ravaged his kingdom once again.

The time when abyssal shatters crackled across the ruined desolation of the land he thought he defended.

His father on the floor, his robes stained with blood from the demon’s punch.

His mother cowering behind the remains of a charred minka hut, smouldering trees clawing their way towards the cosmos in a desperate attempt for salvation.


“...came back.”


“Uarrgh..’
The weary samurai let out a sound, halfway between a pained cry and a groan in anger as the peal of the liminal space’s winds battered his face.

“Akuuuu…”

He gripped his sword. Ready to strike, yet ready to also give up on life. 

And yet, something tethered him to existence. Something inside told him to keep fighting.
For what? He thought momentarily.

What, if any, is the point of holding on?

The rift spasmed.
Reality bent—and Jack was swallowed again.


The air itself seemed to curdle as the Leyak, a creature of gnarled wood and malevolent shadow, thrust its staff skyward. Not merely wind, but a shrieking, physical force erupted from the gesture – a localised hurricane that tore across the temple summit. Ami felt the gale rip at her, a tangible pressure seeking to flay her skin. Her prized blazer, caught by the spectral tempest, was violently torn from her shoulders, cartwheeling away into the darkness beyond the temple edges like a discarded memory.

The pink eyed cambion squinted, grin twisted; fingers twitching.

With a flick, jade kunai formed in her hands, blades palpitating pink-green.

It’s phantasmal fur bristled, its glowing eyes wide as it scrambled backward on the stone flags. Its fear was amplified as the Pontianak, a vision of maternal horror, began to wave its grotesque weapon: the impossibly long, blackened umbilical cord of its stillborn child. Viscous, tar-like goo dripped from the cord and the ragged, gaping wounds that marred the ghostly woman's form. With a guttural cry, she swung the cord, the calcified, stone-hard fetus at its end whistling through the air like a mace aimed directly at Ami's head.



“URGH…”

Ami reacted on pure instinct, throwing herself sideways. The fetus smashed into the concrete where she'd stood a split second before, chipping the ancient stone.

But the reprieve was momentary.

A horrifying clattering sound roped her gaze skyward.

Plunging from the shadowy upper reaches of the temple was a disembodied lower half of a skeleton – femurs, tibiae, feet, all blackened as if charred, yet moving with terrifying speed and purpose.

"!!!!!"

A choked gasp escaped Ami's lips as she launched herself to the left again, pure, cold horror jolting through her veins. The skeletal legs barrelled past, missing her by inches, kicking up dust and grit.

Above her, the three cryptids converged. From Aoi's skeletal maw, something dark and sinuous began to emerge – a thick, glistening tentacle, coiling like a hunting cobra, pulsing with necrotic energy. A unified, chilling command echoed from the Leyak, Pontianak, and the skeletal Aoi: "NOW!"

The Pontianak unleashed its signature, ear-splitting screech, a sound that scraped nerves raw.

" EEEEEERK!" It lunged, aiming to pin Ami down.

Ami wasn't finished.
Pain was a familiar fuel.
With explosive strength born of desperation and her bloodthirsty nature, she kicked her legs up, executing a sharp handstand.

Her knee drove upwards, impacting the Pontianak's distended, decaying belly with a sickening, wet thud.
The creature recoiled with a gurgling gasp. Ami used the momentum, twisting into a fluid backflip that landed her squarely on her feet. Without pause, she pivoted, ramming her left elbow with vicious force into the face of the lunging Bajang. There was a brittle crunching sound as spectral teeth, half-real, half-phantom, scattered across the stone like discarded pebbles.

"Ini... sangat mustahil..."
The Bajang whimpered, clutching its shattered snout, its form flickering violently.  disbelief warring with agony in its glowing eyes.

Ignoring it’s wounded comrade, the Leyak struck again. Its staff carved arcane symbols in the air, and from the shadows beneath the pagoda’s eaves, a swarm of bats erupted – not normal bats, but chittering, red-eyed monstrosities drawn by the sorcery. They dove as one, a living blanket of leathery wings and sharp fangs aimed directly at Ami's exposed neck, intent on draining her life force. Simultaneously, with a grating scrape of bone on bone, Aoi's skeletal halves clicked back together, reforming the complete, terrifying figure, albeit unsteady.

Ami glanced at the descending swarm, a flicker of something almost like boredom crossing her face.

" Ha... what the fuck... " she muttered, the adrenaline surge making the world seem slightly surreal.

She moved, her face expresionless.

Spinning on her heel with the predatory grace and speed of a cheetah, she thrust her right hand forward, palm open. The pounamu wrapped around her wrist flared again. Four kunai-like blades, radiating that strange, potent pinkish-green energy, shot from her fingertips. They didn't just fly; they instantly morphed mid-air, multiplying, elongating, transforming into a shimmering, deadly wave of razor-sharp energy that surged upwards, crashing into the bat swarm.

"AHK! " The sound wasn't from the bats, though many disintegrated into dust on impact.
It was Ami.
Aoi, surprisingly strong for mere bones held together by malice, had lunged during the distraction, wrapping skeletal arms around Ami's neck in a crushing headlock.
The cambion gagged, clawing uselessly at the unyielding bone, her neck stained with coal-coloured smudges from her zombified sister’s skeleton.

Aoi's breath, hot and foul, washed over her face like corrosive vapour, smelling of grave dirt and decay.

"Yes... die with me. Suffer with me, " Aoi hissed, her voice a dry rattle from the fleshless jaw.

" Show me that you've learnt something from acting like such a bitch."

"KAH..." Ami choked, vision starting to tunnel, the pressure on her windpipe immense.

THONK.

The sound was brutally sharp, sickeningly final. With a surge of desperate strength, Ami had leveraged her position, snapping Aoi's spinal column just below the skull with a vicious twist. The skeletal arms went momentarily limp. In that instant, Ami exploded into motion. She broke free, delivered a blindingly fast punch that sent the still-reeling Pontianak staggering back, and followed with a heavy stomp onto the injured polecat, crushing its spectral paw. Then, with Aoi’s now dangling upper body still somehow clinging to her back, Ami deliberately backpedaled, slamming herself and her skeletal burden hard against one of the massive stone pillars supporting the split gateway of the abandoned temple.

The ancient structure groaned under the impact. Cracks spiderwebbed across the stone like the aftershocks of an earthquake, and rocks began to tumble. With a final, protesting screech of stressed material, one of the ornate, horn-like carvings crowning the gateway broke free. It plummeted downwards, landing with pulverising force directly onto Aoi's reconnected lower half and the now-paralysed upper body Ami had just dislodged.

Stone shattered, dust plumed, and Aoi's reanimated bones were crushed beneath the tons of debris.

"URKH...." A final, choked-off shriek bubbled from the rubble before silence.

The Leyak stared, its gnarled face a mask of utter shock, the destruction of the sacred gateway apparently more horrifying than the dispatching of its ally. "The Candi Bentar!" it gasped, its voice trembling.

Enraged by Aoi's destruction, the Pontianak gathered itself for one final, desperate attack, launching itself at Ami with a bloodcurdling howl: "YAAAAAAAAAAARGH!"

THWACK.

Somehow, Ami had anticipated the lunge. She ducked beneath the trajectory of the decaying claws, her movement impossibly fluid.

As the Pontianak flew over her, Ami reached up , her hand plunging wrist-deep into the horrifyingly yielding cavity of the creature's belly.

Her fingers closed around something hard and cold – the calcified fetus. With a grunt of exertion, she yanked it free, trailing gore and sludge. In the same motion, she spun and hurled the grotesque corpse-turned-projectile with all her might.

It flew true, striking the stunned Leyak squarely in the face with sickening force. The goblin-like sorcerer's eyes rolled back in its head, and it collapsed onto the stone, out cold.

Ami straightened, her left foot still planted firmly within the woman’s distended, grotesquely mauled, now-empty belly cavity. The mutilated woman, skin almost falling off her phantasmal visage, choked and gagged, collapsed backward onto the concrete of the temple’s floor utterly violated and weakened.

Ami bent over, hands on her knees, panting heavily, not from exertion, but with a wild, manic energy.
She leaned close to the Pontianak's pale, sunken-eyed face, her breath ghosting over the decaying skin.

"I win," she declared, her voice husky but filled with savage triumph.

She took a deliberate look around. The Bajang whimpered pitifully, nursing the spots where it’s coralline antlers had once been, too terrified to move. The Leyak lay unconscious, a grim trophy of Ami’s victory nearby. Beneath the crumbled remains of the split gate, the blackened bones of her sister, Aoi, twitched feebly amongst the debris, crushed but perhaps not entirely extinguished.

She glanced down, feeling the weak twitches of her vanquished enemy.

Her own foot was slick with the Pontianak's dark, viscous sludge. The ghostly woman before her could only manage ragged, choking breaths.

Ami's face showed no trace of remorse, only cold victory.

"Stay down. " Her voice dropped, low and dangerous. " Or shut up."

The Pontianak remained utterly still, silent save for its ragged breathing.

A malicious grin spread across Ami's face again. "I knew yo-"

"WE WOOOOOOOOOOOOONT!" The Pontianak shrieked its defiance, summoning a final reserve of spiteful energy. 

The air popped, and then a deafening silence instantly overrode the harsh sound.. A miniature shockwave erupted outwards from the fallen ghost, not powerful enough to harm the combatants significantly, but enough to kick up a cloud of dust and send loose debris – fallen tools, stone fragments – skittering across the summit floor. A small, shallow crater formed beneath the Pontianak where the outburst originated. Then, the light in its eyes faded, and it’s head slumped backwards, finally unconscious.

The Bajang flinched violently at the outburst from it’s position, pupils dilating in sheer terror. Even the unconscious Leyak seemed to twitch.
They had witnessed the brutal dismantling of their cohort, the destruction of a sacred site for their lord and saviour, Aku, and now this final, defiant burst of power from Ami that seemed to casually snuff out the Pontianak's resistance.

They saw her raw, untamed power, and it terrified them.

Ami threw her head back. Maniacal laughter echoed across the desolate summit.

Stepping free from the horrifically mangled woman’s stomach cavity, she deliberately walked over and spat onto the unconscious, rotting face of her adversary.

"I said that I won, " she snarled, her voice dripping with contempt, addressing the remaining, terrified cryptid and the silent ruins.

" And none of you listened. "

Chapter 32: CXXXII

Chapter Text



 

Amid the debris, Ami stood alone, sweat glistening along her collarbones, her blazer tattered, the jade on her wrist humming faintly. The ruins of Pura Kalangit simmered in moonlight, cloaked in vines, shrubbery and blood-dried prayer banners. The summit trembled beneath the fractured gate,  where crumbling stone idols lay beheaded and forgotten.

She sauntered into the pagoda at the summit, half expecting traps, or some other means of resistance.

“It… was that easy?” She said, as in the darkened space… nothing seemed to happen as her eyes and feet were magnetised to the prize glowing in the barren, empty maw of the room.

She pursed her lips in curiosity as a golden glow pulsed from the cochlea-shaped machine, in where a bubble of membrane-like energy encased the yellow shard floating atop of it.

She reached out.
A poke. Nothing happened to her, the room so silent one could hear a-

Pop.

The bubble gave way. The shard, glinting with the echoes of a life deprived of it’s existence, dropped into her waiting palm.


Her teeth gleamed like the moon’s glow, as her thumb slowly rubbed circles on the small, rhombus shaped yellow shard.


“Yeah. This is good,” she murmured. “I think I know where the breaker's power comes from.”

“Ahaha… hahahaha… AHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

Her cackle rocked the summit as she turned toward the exit.

Beneath stone and bone, Aoi rasped.

“My… my ribs…”

“Oh yeah.” Ami’s tone dripped with casual cruelty, blowing a lock of her bob's matted hair out of her face. She promenaded pompously out of the small pagoda, a victorious air of indignance surrounding her, the jade on her wrist glowing a soft faint aqua bluish green in the night. 

She kicked aside the broken Candi Bentar as if lifting a curtain, revealing Aoi’s twisted skeleton, oozing tar and ruin, joints grotesquely disfigured, ribs misshapen, vertebrae cracked and half-shattered.

“Ha.

“You know,” she said, leaning down, brushing shrapnel off Aoi’s skull, “it was right there.”

“ Why didn’t you go for it?”

"Why didn't you..."

She ran a finger across the length of Aoi's bony chin, flicking powdery specks of dark shrapnel off her sister's reanimated remains.

"...reclaim what was rightfully yours?" 

“YOU—”

The skull detached from the ribcage in a lunge.

“And you thought I wouldn’t react?”

With nothing more than a shrug of her shoulders, Ami balled her fist up, and without hesitation, slammed the yellow shard into the skull’s left eye socket.

The tension was palpable, and for a moment, an outside observer could have sworn that this interaction broke time and space. 

A slow gasp of horror escaped the rotting jaws of the zombie.

Then a scream.

“AAAAAAAAAAARGHAAAAAAA!”

The transformation had begun.

Bones snapping into form, sinew twisting like rotten ropes rethreading themselves, her blackened skeleton knitting with pale skin and tendons as memories from a timeline long since seemingly erased, stabbed through her psyche.

A childhood in the darkness of a mountain hollow, with her and her 6 other sister’s previous incarnations.

Hatred for the samurai imbued into her body and mind in the cult, like scripture, to the point of being physically thrown into black magic that coated her.

Trained from toddlers till adulthood, wearing white 6 horned masks given to her and her 6 identical septuplets, suffering beatings every single day, hour, second, of her existence for failing to master the arts of weapon-wielding and melee combat easily.

Release into the wild, their mother’s cruelty having completely bleached the septuplets of any agency, or free will, or ability to think.

Their one goal, to kill the Samurai.

Their encounter in the temple, ambushing the Samurai one by one with weapons, out for blood.

Jack’s blood.

Finding that the bearded Samurai, now only in his loincloth, had killed the youngest, the pink-eyed one, her throat gashed open in the temple’s passageway.

The 6 of them leaving her by a riverside, her lifeless body a grim reminder of their painful, fleeting existence. 

A snowy forest. The jaded, weary samurai’s fists flying through the air, his improvisation in combat, her dodge… a random spear impaling her.

Her body collapsing against the hallowed husk of a tree, a grim reminder of her failure to defeat the bearded man in her previous incarnation.

Blood, trickling onto the snow as the consciousness dimmed from her eyes.

Death.

Aoi convulsed, twitching against the cold stone, her own skin feeling like a foreign organism as life, or what sufficed of it, flowed into her body. She could barely open her eyes as flesh crawled up her skull, encasing it in a sheen of squelchiness that felt like it was hers, but not hers. Hair, rough, coarse, messy, ruffled, sprouted from her skullcap like crazed disembodied hands. Her body, pale, unclothed, gray… reborn.

For a third, unwanted, chance at “life”.

Ami crouched, chin resting on her knuckles, watching like a bored director. Her ballerina flats twisted, crushing powdery remnants of concrete under her. Her gaze turned to the cryptids she’d beat up briefly, then back to her identical, reanimated sister. 

“This is the only way to heal you.”


It was like falling, without ever landing.

It was like eternity in an instant.

Jack breathed; yet there was no air. He tried to stand, flailing aimlessly, his geta unable to lock onto any surface.

The abyss shimmered in shards of memory, reforming into figures.

Figures from his non-existent adventures.

His eyes couldn’t. 

He saw Olivia the DJ girl he’d saved from her father at one nonexistent point in time, her fingers spinning vinyl in a voidlit club, the small clicks of knobs echoing in a symphony of melancholy throughout the liminal space. 

“Samurai…” she whispered.

Guinness, leader of the Triseraquins, dissolved like a jellyfish against a mirage of the underwater kingdom from his time under the sea.. “Samurai Jack…”

The Woolies stood under a broken tree, bowing their heads solemnly. “We teach you how to jump good…”

His face trembled.

The illusion of the 6-horned demon nearby cackled, as if even though it knew it wasn’t the real Aku, it could still take solace in the fact that it’s mortal enemy was suffering in this sense.

“My allies… I am sorry.”

 

BAA.

Three rams charged into the void. One whole, two cracked. They slammed their horns into a looming mass of shifting faces; a twisted Aku born of guilt and memory.

“SAMUUURAAAAIII!” it shrieked as it dissolved.

A portal opened.

On the other side: not Bhumanagara.

A desert. Wide. Silent. Dry wind kissed his skin, sand glittering in the moonlight. 

He turned to the rams.

“Do you… want to come with me?”

One saluted, gaudily lifting it’s hoof to it’s head.

The others bleated softly.

Jack hesitates, his hands clenched, his geta keyed into the floor of the liminal space.

“No.” a soft remark escapes his lips.

He walks over to the rams, and carries them out, as they bleat in a little bit of surprise and protest.

He crouched, picking them up.

“I’m not letting you suffer again.”

He stepped through, his gi flowing around the small creatures, whimpering as if they thought the Samurai had made some mistake.

Yet, as he set foot in the sandy desert and out of the abyss, unable to truly comprehend what had just happened, one thing was for sure.

Maybe there was hope.

Just maybe.

He smiled, his long wild hair and gi flowing in the winds of the desert, so dry they could dessicate a fresh corpse, as he craned his head downward to look at the purple balls of wool, now free, he surmised, from Aku’s corruption.

Air entered his lungs, his chest expanding with the deep breath he took, as he ensured his sword was still by his side.

“The journey continues.” 


The cave glowed a crimson arterial, it’s walls beating like a heart ripped open. The High Priestess stood before the mirror of fragmented divinity, her cloak still, her boots soaked in the puddles of black dew beneath her feet, cradled by the rocky indents of the cavern. 

Behind her, Aku grinned, running a carved bone along his fangs.

“Two daughters have shards,” he mused.

“One is dead. The other plays god.”

His co-aide narrowed her eyes. 

“Shards quicken their decay.”

The demon shrugged.

“Let them think they have agency. It’s faith I want. Not loyalty.”

They both turned to look at the chained form of Kuni, still unconscious, red chains stretching from her limbs to the Reality Breaker’s writhing core.

The Priestess clicked her tongue. “I do not mean to question your methods, my lord…”

She gestured at the projection showing Aoi writhing, Ami watching like a disinterested puppet mistress, about to change the rules of the cosmic chess that defined their existences in this timeline. 

“…But this. This proves they cannot follow the rules.”

Aku waved a hand. “Patience, woman. Close the rift.”

Azumi did so, reluctantly.

He chuckled, fixing his tie, flames dimming aqua across his brow.

“That was your mistake last time, wasn’t it?”

Her hands clenched.

“…It was.”

He turned, swaggering toward a stairwell, carved into the rock.  

“I told you. Free will is important.”

His laughter echoed as he vanished.

As imposing as a gargoyle, her gaze loomed down at Kuni. Alone. Bound.

After a pause, she crouched beside her.

“After your punishment… I could give you purpose.”

She smiled. Shadows danced along her fingertips.

“If Lord Aku permits it, of course.”

Chapter 33: CXXXIII

Chapter Text



Pura Kalangit smouldered, clouds of dust de-manifesting into nothing. Slivers of dawn’s light penetrated the smog of the night sky, signaling that it was the sun’s turn to come up soon.  The cochlea-shaped machine, once a proud engineering marvel of the enigmatic nature of this timeline, lay in pieces near the pagoda, having been absolutely pulverised, likely from a single, decisive powerful kick.
Jungle mist clung to stone like sweat on skin. The cryptids lay there, slowly fading from existence, having received more post-mortem assaults on their forms from the maniacal cambion standing forth before them.

“Ha… a woman who couldn’t dispose of her miscarriage, a dwarf imp looking thing with a silly staff… and a fucking ferret with antlers?”

She guffawed, doing a little twirl on the lifeless Pontianak’s face, embedding the creature’s fallen corpse into the concrete of the temple. It’s two comrades didn’t respond, their ability to vocalise, protest against the one-sided physical and verbal assaults they’d been given in the short conflict.


Her attention shifted as the laugh subsided, turning from amusement to disgust, at the sight before her.

Ami stood over her sister’s barely reformed body, irises glinting with cold victory. She looked at her fists, bloody and battered, yet triumphant. It fueled her spirit to see Aoi writhing on the ground, naked, twitching as skin regrew across bone, the echoes of her scream reverberating across the cracked temple.

“Still want to spend time like this? Bitch?”

Without hesitation, Ami tossed her a ragged black piece of fabric, making it clear to her zombified sister that she didn’t see such a pathetic, disfigured entity as deserving of care or comfort.

“Cover yourself, you freak of nature.”

Aoi trembled as Ami laughed, pink, crazed eyes meeting sunken, timid black ones.

Sentient black ichor transuded from the reanimated corpse’s neck. Aoi contorted the newly reformed muscles in her foot as her senses were bombarded on all fronts by feelings thought long lost, long buried.
She tried to stand. Her legs buckled.
It had been 7 years of torture without much control over her own self.

Now, bodily autonomy felt like a chore, a tax on her existence. 

“Shit… krkh… you…!” She raised a hand at her identical septuplet, baring her black teeth. 

Ami stood with her hands in her jacket pockets, almost seeming to lean against the backdrop of the shroud of the clouds.

“I get that I’m the youngest here, but don’t I deserve…”

She turned, slow and deliberate, walking back up to the trembling, half-covered wreck of her older sister.

“…a little respect around here too?”

Aoi’s thoughts curdled. Did she only save me to use me…?

“I’ll be straightforward,” Ami said, running a hand through Aoi’s grimy, spiky hair—only to jerk her fingers back with a grimace.

“Disgusting.”

She thumbed her nose at the grotesque horror that was the reanimated reincarnation of her sibling, and continued, not an ounce of desire to extend an olive branch to her sister in her voice.

“I need someone to help me take out Aku's faith siphons. Centers. Machines. Cults. The whole thing.”

“And you…” She crouched, her voice laced with venomous affection. “Dear older sister…”

Aoi collapsed again, legs crumpling under her. She’d cry if she could still make tears. Her blackened eyes however… produced nothing to help stem the rising tide of fear and pain she felt.

“…are the perfect candidate.”

Aoi’s voice came out hoarse, gritty like sandpaper against chalk.

“Why…”

“Aku thinks you're dead. But me? I'm still under surveillance. There are things I can't do. Not without tipping him off.”

Ami nonchalantly kicked a rock into a rift-like crevasse of the crumbling temple, as she continued, adjusting the jade on her wrist, still glowing faintly in the dark. 

“You, though? You’re already rotting. No one's watching corpses.”

Aoi clenched her fists. Her limbs trembled. Her soul screamed for oblivion.

Ami leaned in. “Suppose you help me. I'll pay you. Shelter. Credits. Maybe even a better cloak.”

“But…” she grinned wider, “if not—I could always leave you here. Let the villagers nearby become your next meal. I'm sure they'd love a haunted temple experience.”

Aoi lunged, seizing Ami by the collar, breath ragged and foul.

“FUCKER…!”

Ami’s expression didn’t change. Her grip snapped Aoi’s wrist back, the bone crunching faintly beneath her fingers.

“I said…” Aoi snarled through her teeth, “I’ll do it already. Just shut up…!”

Ami let go, her smirk softening into something worse, approval at the fact that Aoi had, after their long and tumultuous relationship, finally capitulated once and for all to her, the most conniving one of them all in this new, wretched timeline.

“Good. That’s what I like to hear.”

She turned, laughing softly as she walked away.

“You do it, you get credits. You don’t? No credits. Easy math, bonehead.”

Aoi knelt, wallowing in the filthy concrete’s coarseness against her knees, humiliated. Her cloak clung to her skin, foreign yet hers, alive, yet dead.
She pressed her palms to the broken stone, trembling like a leaf bombarded by the cold winds of the night, unforgiving in it’s stare. 

Ami looked over her shoulder.

“You called me weak. Seven years ago. Weak in mind and spirit.”

She nodded toward Aoi’s shaking silhouette, a little exhale from her nose. 

“Look at you now.”

Aoi lowered her head, clenching her fists. “…Fuck. This world.”

Her voice was just breath.

Still, she stumbled forward, trailing behind Ami.

“You…”

Ami’s elbow shot out; but Aoi weakly blocked it, her skin clammy, like it would stop adhering to her bones once again and fall away in fleshy, cold lipid chunks. 

“Don’t go…”

Ami paused mid-step, one flat crunching against a leaf.

“Your job here’s done,” she said. “Why are you still following me?”

Aoi panted, coughing mist. Her body fought to stay together.

“I… I can…”

Ami’s patience thinned.

“Then come with me,” she muttered. “Do as I say. You’ll be safe.”


Aoi followed, trying to keep her modesty intact as her hands trembled with rage, humiliation and embarrassment.

There was nothing else to do, she thought.

“There really isn’t anything I can do. Even my captors, my torturers.”

“Ami beat them all..”

She shuddered at the thought as cold, dull gray feet met cracked, chipping concrete, watching her sociopath of a sister retrieve her own black jacket from a snag in the crumbling ruins of the temple.

“She’s cruel.”

“And yet… I have zero choice.”




“Infrastructure Is Salvation.” A signboard, in the middle of the desert, next to a vaguely etched out path in the sand, glows with gaudy, pixel-like font above a hovercar, a cue for motorists, adventurists and the like that civilisation in these parts is still possible. 

Ashi stepped out of a sleek, obsidian hover-limousine. Her outfit exuded regulation: black high-collared cloak, utility gear fastened tight, jet-black heeled boots crunching against desert dust.
The human emissary who drove her away bows once, face obscured under a flowing keffiyeh, and leaves without a word.

She was truly, and fully alone now.

Instantly, her earpiece chimed.
She picked up, eager to avoid confusion and delay should she hesitate for even just a second.

Her mother, the High Priestess’s voice slithered through, akin to a python curling around a sarcophagus.
“Dear… sweet Ashi.”

“ Are you standing before Al-Sakhreh? The new site where E-724 is becoming reality?” 

Ashi looked up. The towering rock formation seemed to ever so gradually under the slowly rising sun, wind curling sand over ancient carvings.

“Yes, Mother..,” she answers softly.

Azumi’s tone sharpened, her control of the conversation tightening around her daughter’s meek responses.

“Behind it lies an enclave of dissenters. Old gods. They gather in the ravine. They preach against the Lord. Do you see them?”

Ashi hesitates. She takes a swig from her canister, wipes the sweat from her brow. Her fingers tremble.

“...Yes.”


“Then cleanse them.”

Ashi grips her kusarigama, its blade glinting in the light. Her voice is barely above a whisper:

“Is this really-”

Follow all orders.
Azumi’s venom drips like acid through sandstone.

. “Do not pretend to be devout only when convenient.”

Her gaze flicked to Al-Sakhreh . “ Okay… mother… the settlement behind the cliffs… I’m there.”

“Yes.” The High Priestess’s tone hardened.

“They worship remnants. Dead things. You will remind them of Aku’s living glory.”

Ashi’s lips trembled. Her hand tightened around her canteen. “Is this really neces—”

Azumi’s voice sliced sharply. “You follow orders, Ashi. My orders. Never question me again.”

Ashi watched the signal on the small communicator earpiece vanish, light changing from green to red, signifying her mother’s abrupt departure from her conversation. She lowered her hand, breath caught between resolve and nausea.
Something twisted painfully in her chest. Did her parents even care for her at all?


“They’re teaching me resilience,” she whispered, almost desperately. “They’re making me better. Stronger.”

Taking a deep breath, she reached for her kusarigama, hidden beneath her black catsuit. She moved carefully, slipping behind smaller sandstone formations, checking for observers, then moved behind Al-Sakhreh itself.

A small, ancient-looking village, etched deep into weather-worn cliff faces sprawled out before her. It was sheltered by cliffs carved with faded depictions of forgotten desert gods. Ashi gritted her teeth, conflicted emotions surging through her, hot and furious as the desert wind.

A man approached her cautiously, his turban dusty, eyes wary yet kind. “Are you… lost, traveler?”

Ashi hesitated, grip tightening. His face softened with cautious compassion. “Come. Rest in shade. We share what little we have.”

Her hand trembled. Her throat was dry; not just from the heat. This man's kindness, so foreign to her upbringing, cut deeper than her mother’s scorn.

“Thank you…” she murmured.

Then, in one swift, brutal motion, she whipped the kusarigama forward, her pose seemingly elongating tenfold, like a spider’s instinct when confronted with a predator it could not take down.

The man screamed, as if there had been a murder committed amongst the dunes.

Villagers rushed out, horrified at the commotion. Ashi’s green eyes darkened, aggression scrawled all over her face, raising her kusarigama in a slow, creeping motion and adjusting the weapons on her hilt in a display of dominance to the villagers.

Every instinct inside her screamed for her to stop and show restraint—but her orders had been clear.

Her voice cracked slightly as she addressed the terrified villagers. “Lord Aku, the Benevolent one, requests your complete loyalty.”

Behind her mask of ruthless confidence, she felt something deep inside begin to fracture.
As she tried to obfuscate her own fear through propagating subjugation, she swore she could hear a voice inside her head.


Her Father’s voice. So close to her ear, she thought he could feel his fangs sinking into the nape of her neck, as if her punishment for disappointing him was a mauling. Or even worse, pure indifference.

“Darling Ashi… Show restraint. Don’t cause a scene.

She brushed it off, trying to calm herself down, as the trembling villagers parted, forming a straight, uninterrupted path that led to her.

Another human man, dressed in a long, flowy beige-coloured tunic that seemed to drape over his entire body, sauntered over to her, hands slightly raised as if to defuse the situation.

“Excuse me, Miss…’’ he continued.

“My name’s Rashid. I’m the village chief around here.”

The wind currents seemed to abruptly stop, as if frozen, despite the simmering tensions of the rapidly eroding situation.

“Do you… have official business here, in Bet-Azakh?” He asked, holding a staff with a curved point on his hand, brushing flecks of dust out of his own headscarf.

Ashi lowered her kusarigama a tiny bit, and hesitated for a bit.

She answered after a few seconds, clearly still trying to quell the squalls twisting and churning in her heart.

“I do.”

“The Bringer of Benevolence… has sent me here.”





Far below her ruined laboratory on the lonely island, Ari walked through shadowed corridors, her steps slow and lost in a daze. The distant sounds of repair, metal scraping, glass sweeping echoed dimly from above, where the three canine archaeologists diligently worked to salvage her broken sanctuary.

Her mind drifted aimlessly. “Was I… ever important to him?” she whispered softly. “Did I ever truly matter to Father’s plans?”

She stared blankly at the cast on her right arm, her shattered finger aching gently. The pain grounded her briefly, but soon, emptiness returned.

“How did I reach this point…?” Ari murmured bitterly.

“Maybe I was a sinner in a past life, to be—”

Her thoughts broke sharply as her foot slipped suddenly on slick algae.

“Woah—!”

She skidded downward uncontrollably as the corridor tilted steeply, algae slick beneath her boots. Ari scrambled, panic rising, trying to grab for anything she could find as she slid toward a solid metal wall ahead, rusted and unforgiving.

“No no no—!”

She braced herself instinctively, shielding her injured arm from the inevitable crash.

A strange hum filled the air, resonating oddly through her bones-

“...??”

As if she had passed on to another realm, she phased through the wall effortlessly, as if it were mist. The disgraced scientist, once believing that her invincibility  landed roughly on her back, gasping, in a small, dimly lit chamber she’d never known existed.

Confusion gave way to shock as her eyes adjusted.

Before her, in a room that was seemingly never hers to view, stood rows of locked cabinets and drawers, sealed with intricate mechanisms and passcodes. The glow of her sapphire eyes dimmed momentarily in disbelief, her mouth slightly agape as she lifted herself off her sore behind, wincing as she straggled to her feet.

“What… are these?” she whispered shakily.


Above in the main chambers of the lab, a silent, grotesquely maimed dolphin gazed mournfully from its craggy enclosure. Its skin peeled and raw, eyes sunken with suffering, as it watched the dogs dutifully sweeping debris, restoring cruel enclosures for other experiments—its fellow prisoners of Ari’s once-pristine laboratory.

It remembered freedom.

Years ago, seven years, maybe, it swam with its pod beneath the sunlit waves, every sensation felt, every muscle full of life, every social need it ever had, fulfilled.

Then a squall swallowed them whole. Lost, it had washed ashore on black sands beneath cruel spires of stone and bone.

Two figures approached then: a tall, horned being in a tailored suit, his green lips twisted in sadistic amusement—and beside him, a woman. Younger. Fearful. Devil-like hairstyle. 

“My dear Ari,” Aku had whispered. “I grant you your first experiment.”

It recalled being forced into a tank, too tiny and shallow to even submerge itself fully in.

The cold sting of needles, chemicals that seared and peeled flesh.

The unnatural glow of forced experiments.

It remembered Ari commanding tricks, its body agonised and brutalised, strained to it’s limits, her cruelty when it disobeyed. It remembered her frustration and rage as she ripped away one of its fins, punishment for its exhausted disobedience.

Nearby, the strange cochlea-shaped device thrummed endlessly, pulsing with dreadful power, controlling, distorting the fabric of life itself.

The dolphin’s mournful gaze turned upward, a silent prayer in its heart as its ruined body floated limply.

End. My. Suffering.

 

Chapter 34: CXXXIV

Chapter Text

The silence of the hidden archive was suffocating.

Azure gaze sullen, a reflection of the storm inside her heart, Ari knelt among scattered papers, the faint sapphire lights overhead casting ghastly shadows over the rusted cabinets. Her right arm, still wrapped in a makeshift splint, pulsed painfully as she twisted the piece of scrap wiring between her fingers.

She sighed. Her heart pulsed, heavy in her chest. Every nerve inside her screamed to stop, walk away, pretend she'd never seen this hidden chamber. But curiosity gnawed at her relentlessly.

“Just a little peek…,” she whispered, anxiety creeping into her voice.

She jammed the scrap wiring into the lock, scraping and twisting with quiet determination. The lock resisted at first, rusted, seawater-corroded metal grinding angrily against her intrusion

After a few persistent moments, there was a faint click.

Her breath caught.

Three cabinet drawers were now unlocked. With trembling hands, Ari slowly pulled open the first one. Dust, salt-laced air and mold wafted out, forcing her to cough.

Inside lay meticulously organized folders and documents, yellowed with age and stained by moisture. Ari flipped through them cautiously, sapphire eyes scanning each page, her pulse quickening with each line of text.

Project Canidae:
Original species: Non-sentient domestic canines.
Enhancement Procedure: Sentience inducement via Aku’s divine essence
Purpose: Unquestioning servitude to Lord Aku’s relic-hunting initiative.
Status: Successful, subjects demonstrate absolute loyalty, minimal emotional deviation.

Ari’s fingers tightened, crumpling the edge of the paper slightly.

“No…,” she muttered softly, disbelief pooling in her stomach. Her vision blurred. “They weren't chosen… they were created. Just like me.”

She opened the next file, her heart sinking further with every word.

Clarification of the objectives:

-Relic identification and retrieval

-Suppression or eradication of opposing belief systems and deities

-Isolation of high-value targets for direct elimination


“Urgh…” 

She recoiled, dropping the papers as if they burned her fingertips. Her breathing became shallow. Memories flooded her; years upon years of research, experiments, isolation… each one leading nowhere, each failure met with cold indifference from her father.

“Was I ever important… to him?” Ari whispered bitterly. She blinked rapidly, fighting tears that refused to fall.

“Was I ever truly useful? Or was I just… an experiment that didn’t malfunction?”

She slumped down onto the floor, leaning heavily against the open cabinet. A drawer above remained unopened, its corroded lock daring her silently. Ari stared at it blankly, her resolve drained away.

“Lady Ari!”

Footsteps softly padded down the slanted corridor behind her. She didn’t turn, knowing the gentle, rhythmic gait of her canine servants too well by now.

Like a spectre, Colin phased quietly into the room, gaze falling upon the scattered files and Ari’s hunched form. He said nothing. His small dachshund-like body moved forward, tail drooping as he settled quietly beside her.

“How did you get in here?” was all Ari could manage in the moment.

His entire body seemed to emanate a soft blue glow, as if blind reverence had taken over him the moment he heard the fear in his leader’s voice.

“I heard the commotion, and all I wanted to do was check up on you. Are you hurt?”

“No.” Ari answered, ironically more robot-like than her servant’s upbeat, cheery attitude. “I’m fine. No additional injuries.”


“That’s ace.” Colin cheerily responded, raising a paw, hopeful for a high five.


His face dropped as Ari turned away, her usually devious, sultry grin now replaced with a somber, thousand yard stare.

“Not up for it? Alright then.” The dachshund said, adjusting his little coat.

Taking stock of the situation, as he sat with his leader in silence, he started noticing the truly odd nature of this little space, hidden by what had looked to be solid wall, yet was nothing more than an illusion protecting these rows of cabinets, encrusted with algae and rusted by the constant exposure to the elements.




“Dear me, blimey. This place is…” Colin trailed off, looking at the small space, the silhouettes of the cabinets almost towering over them, threatening to choke them should they pry into more of the contents of the area.

Ari muttered, tidal waves of emotions ranging from anger to regret slamming into her heart, “Yeah I know. I slipped and fell.”

“It sucks here.”


 

The sun crept slowly through the dense canopy, morning light cutting coldly across the muddy forest floor. Fireflies glowed their last for the night, the chirps of cicadas grew ever more distant and silent and the air, dense with dew and moisture, clung to skin like a wet blanket.

Ami strode forward effortlessly, dragging her ruined ballerina flats through the slick, wet dirt, swatting away bothersome insects and clearing branches, leaves and other ground clutter from the path using her brute strength.

. She gripped Aoi’s ear tightly, tugging her stumbling, undead sister forward.

“Shit… krkh… you—!” Aoi gasped weakly, barely managing to keep her head attached as the two tripped over roots and stones.

“Oh, hush,” Ami said dismissively, smirking coldly. “These shoes were expensive, you know. Meh… I’ll just buy more.”

Aoi stumbled again, knees buckling, her voice raspy and strained. “Stop… walking so damn fast…”

Ami scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Slow physically and mentally, huh? Tsk tsk.”

Aoi’s fists clenched under her cloak, black mist seeping from her nostrils as she trembled with fury and exhaustion. “Fucking… hell…”

They passed the pond where they'd first clashed, ghostly tree branches reaching toward them like twisted, desperate fingers. Ami ignored the oppressive atmosphere, humming softly to herself.

Aoi’s legs shook beneath her, barely supporting her reformed, yet still fragile body. Her lips parted to gasp out another desperate plea. “Please… just let go of my fucking ear.”

Ami stopped abruptly, releasing her grip so suddenly that Aoi nearly collapsed into the mud.

“You’re welcome to wander off again, corpse,” Ami mocked, eyes narrowed with amusement. “Eat shit from the ground or whatever it is your kind does.”

Something inside Aoi snapped. Her jaw clenched, and she lunged forward.
Not out of anger, but out of sheer desperation.

“I’m your sister, not your fucking plaything…”

Ami easily sidestepped her feeble grasp, snickering as Aoi immediately faltered. “Oh, please. Spare me the melodrama. You’re one to talk about being a true sibling. Remember what you called me seven years ago? Weak. Worthless.”

“And now…”

“You are the plague that poisons society.”

Aoi froze, mouth open, tongue of ichor visible. Her undead heart ached with the pain of two lifetimes of trauma.


On a muddy, isolated island, Aku stood silhouetted against the pale moonlight, his suit pristine despite the filth around him. Aoi knelt in the damp sand, limbs bound, fear choking her.

“You dare even try to lay a finger on me?” Her father’s voice was cold, even bored.

“Let this be a lesson: Rebellion can be amusing... but even theatrics has limits.”

A young Aoi struggled to form words, her yellow irises dilated, panic coursing through her veins.. “Father… wait, let me go first, and I’ll… I’ll”

The world spun abruptly as her head separated from her body, a rush of nausea and disbelief overtaking her. She saw her own headless body slump forward, twitching violently.

“My sisters… Ashi… Ami… Abi… Why didn’t any of you come?” she thought bitterly, consciousness fading. “Why didn’t Mother Azumi defend me…?”

Her severed head stared lifelessly as Aku buried her, the cruel smirk never leaving his green lips.




Aku chuckled to himself, crouching beside the dirt-packed patches like they were flowerbeds, and he was a benevolent gardener.


“Rest easy, fallen rebel,” he whispered mockingly.

And then, louder:
“You could have lived, had you given me a concrete answer!”

He cackled, dragging the yellow shard between his claws, holding it up to the sickly moonlight. It flickered dimmer now, as if it’s power was suppressed by it’s captivity in Aku’s hands.

“Tsk. Wanted to show her the one where the Samurai impaled her. Thought it’d drive the point home.”

He looked down at the graves. “But I don’t think it would’ve changed a damn thing.”

From the cover of the jungle… emerged them.

The spirits of the land.

Grotesque, wretched cryptids.

A woman-shaped specter, stomach grotesquely bloated with a dead fetus twisting in translucent agony.
A goblin-like thing, wielding some sort of staff, fire licking its flared nostrils, its spine arched backward unnaturally as it ambled toward the demon.
  A ferret-shaped creature, fur like mist, antlers coralline, eyes black like static, half paranormal, half terrestrial. 

Behind them came more ghosts in tatters, hollow-eyed, starved of essence.

“Oh, Tuan Aku!” they chanted in twisted joy.

“Bringer of Benevolence! What have you brought us tonight?”

Aku twirled the yellow shard in his fingers.

“Power, perhaps?”

“Yes, Lord Aku! Yes!”

With theatrical grace, he ascended an old altar, vines peeling away like curtains. He placed the shard beneath a bell-shaped arch, near a crumbling pagoda in this long abandoned temple. 

The moment it touched the altar, it pulsed—once—and began to glow anew.

The spirits howled in joy.
The pregnant ghost floated forward, her hand reaching. Aku, smiling, took it.

“There. You may use this. Siphon its memory. Fuel your souls.”

“Your need to terrorise others has now been permanently satiated.”

Aku grinned, spreading his arms wide, his lips straining as the toothy grin turned impossibly wide.

“All I ask… is that you leave those poor innocent villagers you traumatise alone.”

The goblin-like creature nodded, as the ferret declared solemnly, putting a hand over it’s chest as it stood on two paws:

“We, the Ancaman Bertiga and our associated brethren, resolve to NEVER harm innocents again…”

Aku squinted, his lips resetting to a pout, restraining his true feelings.

“And what else? Be more specific.”

The ferret sighed in exasperation. A deal had been made. It had to be so.

“ We won’t commit heinous crimes, like uprooting their crops, or tampering with the natural order of the earth, or devouring their offspring.”

“Good.” smiled the demon.

“As a reward…”

His audience gasped in astonishment as a small white cochlea shaped machine, seemed to phase out from a dark, irregularly shaped rift in reality, and slot itself into place under the arch. The yellow shard followed, encased in a bubble floating just atop the machine.

“You get full access to the, shall we say, the spirit realm.”

“There, you’ll have no shortage of souls to devour, or torture. And as long as this machine exists…”

He paused, adjusting his suit and tie with calculated precision.

“You’ll be blessed.”

On that day, applause reverberated throughout the jungle. Both sides of the conflict were happy. A deal was a deal, and a win-win was the best outcome for everyone involved.

Except… her.

One rotting corpse.

She never forgot her trauma, even in death.


She wasn’t sure how long it had been since her name had meant anything. She didn’t remember where her limbs had gone. Her body, now a husk of it’s former self, ran without her, through mangroves and muddy flats. Her mind? It floated.

Her skull, cracked and stained, burst through the roof of a thatched hut in some half-remote village. Screams pierced the night.

Her bones didn’t wait for commands.

They simply moved.

Tendrils of black rot shot from her neck, lashing out.


Children fled. The village’s leader prayed.

Something struck her. A bottle? A firebomb? A parang?
Her eye sockets remained expressionless, and instinct, not will, drove her forward.

“So hungry…”

“Why…”

“What am I doing…”

“Why can’t I stop…?”

Her rotting smile stretched too wide as she yanked a newborn from its stony cradle, the umbilical scent of life like a siren’s call. The tendrils dragged it in.
Her jaw unhinged. The infant vanished into bone. People screamed. One blue-skinned lady flashed bloody murder between her antennae as she lunged for Aoi.

And all Aoi could do… was hysterically laugh inside her head, as her body fled the scene, bursting through the roof of the house and flying off to some other place deep within the forest. 

“I’m undead.”


The spirits cheered.

With the shard’s power inside them, they didn’t need Aku’s machines anymore. Now they could open the void themselves. Throw wayward souls into the abyss. Feed the realm. Keep themselves alive.

The goblin shrieked with glee.
The civet twitched erratically.
The pregnant ghost moaned in pleasure.

That demon had rebranded.

To them, and everyone else on Earth, he was truly one with the divine.


And she watched from the distance, as she, in between teeth as sharp as bamboo spears, ruthlessly shook the lifeless corpse of some small creature with blue fur, resembling a cross between a monkey and a yeti.

Her body, or what was left of it dragged itself into the woods, her skull jittering back into socket with a loose snap. As if it finally agreed with her for once. 

She had no direction.

No desire.

Only hunger.

“Fuck…”

“Fuck… fuck… fuck…”

The echo of her shame swallowed her as she dissolved back into smoke.


Aoi shuddered, the pain of those memories too fresh, despite the decay and damage done to her, both in spirit and body.


She trailed behind Ami, eyes hollow, resignation settling deep into her blackened bones.

Ami’s voice cut through the oppressive silence, cold yet satisfied. “Good dog.”

Aoi didn’t respond. There was nothing left to say.

She followed obediently, a shell of herself, identity stripped away piece by piece, just as Aku intended.

Chapter 35: CXXXV

Chapter Text







The morning sun bled through curtains of dust, spilling gold over the silent circle of villagers clustered at the feet of Bet-Azakh’s sandstone cliffs. In the haze of the heat, Ashi stood like a black flame, cloak pulled tight, boots leaving sharp, neat scars in the sand.

The village chief, or the boisterous man who claimed he was, Rashid, faced her down. He had his arms folded, staff spinning between his calloused fingers, attempting to leverage his height over her. His headscarf blazed white in the sun. The villagers–men, women, and a few fennec-faced children watched in wary silence.

The Young Priestess bit the inside of her cheek.
She forced her voice to calm, diplomatic neutrality barely concealing her tension.

“I’ve come with a proposal, on behalf of Lord Aku. He wishes to build a settlement here. In exchange—”

She gestured, all clipped precision, toward the clustered crowd.

“—jobs, security, food, modern infrastructure. Protection from raiders. All the boons of progress.”

Rashid stepped close, shadows swallowing the lines of his face.

“Who taught you to negotiate, little priestess?”

His eyes were hard. “Is this how Aku makes deals? Armed envoys and empty promises?”

Ashi’s hand hovered near her baton, ready to flick it into a blade at the first wrong move.

“I come in peace,” she said flatly, irritation bleeding through.

“Just… don’t try anything foolish.”

Before Rashid could retort, a grey-furred fennec fox in flowing blue-and-tan robes padded forward, a sage’s smile carved into his long muzzle.

“My student, please…”

He tugged Rashid’s sleeve, drawing him into a private huddle, ears flicking.
“Ya Mu’allimi,” Rashid murmured, respectful, yet tense.

Haw’telah, eyes crinkling, kept his voice low but clear enough for Ashi to catch snippets.

“The world has changed, Rashid. Faith is not what it was. If the gods have abandoned us, should we cling to old wounds? Or adapt?”

Rashid bristled.
“You taught me tradition is a shield. That we bend, not break. But now… now we’re asked to kneel.”

Haw’telah gazed at Ashi with sorrowful curiosity, tail curling in the dust.

“It is not about kneeling, my disciple. It is about surviving. If compromise keeps our culture alive… is it surrender? Or transformation?”

He glanced skyward, where faded glyphs of ancient gods melted under the sun.

“When prayers go unanswered, faith finds new forms.”

A moment passed.
Rashid finally sighed. “As you wish, my master.”

Together, they approached Ashi, who stood watching, half-impatient, half-disarmed by the village’s persistent hospitality.

Haw’telah bowed.

“Perhaps we can come to an understanding, dear Young Priestess.”
He offered a paw.

“Let me show you Bet-Azakh. Perhaps you will see why we value what little remains.”

Ashi blinked, the words of her mother echoing, a scorpion’s sting in her ear.
Patience, little one. Learn to wait.

She nodded, cloak billowing as she stepped beside them.
“Lead on.”


The scientist's arm throbbed. The makeshift splint bit into her skin, a reminder that pain was her closest companion. She gripped a bundle of dusty folders, eyes stinging as she tried to blink away the weight of what she’d just found inside there..

Colin, the blue dachshund in a rumpled coat, nudged her up the sloped corridor, his tiny paws a lifeline.
“Easy, Lady Ari, don’t slip,” he urged, his accent gentle.



“Good news, Lady Ari’s in tip-top shape!”

Ari rolled her eyes, sarcasm filling her weary face.

“Absolutely. Never been better.”


Dreyfus stopped, noting that this wasn’t her usual brand of stoic, duty-bound speech.

“Is she really alright, though?”

Ari, clutching the papers with her left hand, lowered her head. She spat her answer out as if it left a taste akin to hyper-salty water in her mouth.

“I said I’m alright.”

She sighed, breathing in, trying to compose herself, and continued, trying to make sure her anguish didn’t bleed into her interactions with her assistants.

“What about the upper levels, have you cleared things up? Have you made sure that the experiments upstairs haven’t escaped?”

Dreyfus and Angus spoke, two responses synchronising as one.

“Absolutely. We have cleared up the area sufficiently enough for normal operations to continue.”

A pang of doubt crossed her face.

“Yes, sure… could I go up and see it?”

The three dogs nod in unison.

They make their way up the spiral staircase, Colin holding Ari’s hand to support her.

As the sounds of their footsteps echo up the staircase, musings continue seeping into her mind as if the floodgates that had acted like dams for critical thought were beginning to burst at the seams.

“I’m half expecting everything I’ve ever worked for and done in this small lab to be just destroyed, and the creatures to either be dead or have escaped.” The weary scientist mutters to herself.

They reached the top of the staircase, walking at a snail’s pace past the small corridor bounded on both sides by laboratory-like rooms.

And as she reached the main chamber of her lab, her eyes widened. 

To her shock, everything was…clean.

Rocks both big and small removed, tiles replenished.

Test tubes back in racks, presumably neatly organised and filed away.

Shattered tanks replaced with new glass and sturdier stone barriers, with mesh-like steel cages.

The grotesque menagerie; the dolphin with rotting fins, the spider-clam, the bat-winged seahorse drifted lifeless, yet conscious in their enclosures, somehow having never nabbed the opportunity to escape in the chaos of the brawl. 

Even the worst stains of her experiments had been scrubbed away.

Dreyfus and Angus bowed, forepaws crossed over their hearts, bulldog and terrier united by purpose.

“It is our duty, Lady Ari. As per our contract with His Benevolence.”

Ari’s hands shook.

“You three… you really cleaned up all this?”
Her voice cracked, the gratitude raw and unfamiliar.

Colin wagged his tail. “Of course. What else is loyalty for?”

Ari’s vision blurred. For the first time in ages, she felt.

Almost as if someone was looking out for her.


Jungle heat rose in shimmering curtains over the village. Leaves dangled over wooden stilted houses, swaying gently in the humid air. Ami stood in the shade of the banyan, sleeves rolled up, pounamu flashing in the sun, flanked by the villagers; a raucous audience of dread and relief.

Manalastas, bull-headed and blunt, confronted her and the ragged, undead figure of Aoi, cowering and shivering.

“This is your ‘solution’?”
Ami’s pink eyes gleamed. “That’s right. I fixed your ghost problem.”

The emoji-mother, antennae burning red, glared. “You mean to say this thing… haunted us all this time?”

Aoi hid under her torn cloak, shrinking from the glares and threats—some human, some not.

Villagers muttered, some clutching charms, others hiding behind Manalastas’ broad back.

One, voice trembling, said, “It must have been her that ate my child…”

Another, a human man with tan skin, wearing fabric around his waist points his cane in Aoi’s direction.

“KILL HER...” he bellows, fear in his voice.

Another person with blue skin, an old emoji-dude wearing some slippers, checkered pants, a singlet, flashes images of knives and the cross-eyed graphic in between his head while nodding sagely.

Yet another, a small human child, holding a carved wooden ornament to his chest in fear, eeks out in the smallest voice possible. “Scary...”

“Ugh..”

Ami scratched her head, rubbing her eyes with one hand, a massive yawn escaping her lips as a random wave of weariness threatened to knock her off her feet.

“Yeesh, Aoi got them so riled up, they’re speaking languages I don’t understand.” She drawled lazily.


She cleared her throat, projecting her voice to the crowd. Through the lens of pink, this situation was nothing more than a joke.

“Guys, guys calm down. She’s not going to be a problem anymore. Trust me. I’ll be taking her with me.”

Manalastas drew close, speaking low and quick.

“Countess, did Aku really send you to fix this, or are you just passing through?”


Ami leaned in, voice poison-sweet.

“You want peace, you pay for it. That’s how the world works now.”

Manalastas, the bull-headed local dignitary, glared at the ragged spectacle before him: Ami, grinning with her signature razor-smile, and the skulking, barely-revived Aoi, still shrouded in a filthy black cloak. The villagers, human and otherwise, crowded around, muttering, flashing warning emojis, clutching children close. The banyan’s shadows swallowed them all.

He scowled, steam cartoonishly shooting out of his nose. 

“Ang Dinakila… didn’t solve everything?” 

Ami, eyes glinting, leaned in close, voice dropping to a cold, secretive whisper that seemed to curl through the humid air, pushing insects aside.

“Of course he didn’t finish the job. That’s Aku’s way, you know. Flashy solution, never permanent.”

Her lips curled.

“He’s not interested in fixing the roots, just in making sure the surface looks clean enough for the reports. It’s always by design.”

Manalastas squinted, lowering his horns, voice wary.

“So… is this the norm, or just another one-off?”

Ami’s tone softened, almost conspiratorial.

“It’s always been engineered like this. Look at your village.”

She gestured at the crowd: blue-skinned emoji people, humans in faded sarongs, old men flashing icons, children clutching talismans.

“Rural folk like you, all different species, cultures, hanging on because this is home. You want to stay. You have to.”

She turned, waving at the wider world beyond the jungle.
“But Aku wants the world to flow to his cities—the centre of trade, power, commerce, control. Why bother truly fixing your cursed ghosts?"

"Why bother cleaning up what he can just sweep under the rug?”

Ami paused, letting the words settle, her gaze boring into Manalastas. Her next line was so soft it seemed to bypass his ears, threading into his brain:

“Why would he ever solve the roots of your suffering? If the problem lingers, you’ll always need him. Always pay. Always submit. That’s how his system works.”

Manalastas, for the first time, hesitated. “I… didn’t know about all that.”

Ami leaned back, grinning, serpentine, her eyes alive with cold triumph. “Of course you didn’t. You don’t know him.”

She paused, glancing back at the crowd, still hurling insults both discretely and overtly at her sister, and then turns back to Manalastas.

“But I do.”

 You should listen to me. I’m his daughter, she thinks, the thought curling in the heat. If anyone knows how this game is played, it’s me.

She held out her hand. Manalastas, still blinking, instinctively pulled out his battered smartphone, thumb trembling as he sent over a transfer—tribute, gratitude, protection money all blurred into one.

She checked her own phone’s screen.
Credit transfer complete.

“Pleasure doing business.” She  shook his hand, a tenuous alliance further heating up the already-dense air of the tropical village’s atmosphere. 

“Payment done.,” he said, subdued. “How… how do we honour you, Countess?”

Ami glanced at the pounamu on her wrist, its green light pulsing, reflecting the new sway she felt in the village. She wiped sweat and grime from her brow, flashing that half-mocking, half-magnanimous smile.

She waved a hand, as if dismissing the very idea of thanks.

“Don’t worry about it, Manalastas.”

She glanced at the villagers, her voice sultry and low.

“You, putting your faith in me, is enough.”

Manalastas, resigned, crossed his arms and turned to the crowd. “Citizens of Kampung Aman, show your gratitude to the Countess Ami.”

One by one, they, including the bull man himself, knelt.

Knees to earth, eyes wary, voices silent.

Ami’s pink gaze swept over them, sharp and calculating. Aoi hung her head, feeling only the chill of the moment.

Ami nodded, gave the crowd a final smirk, then turned to drag Aoi away, the ghost’s tattered cloak trailing behind.

As they passed the battered wooden sign: Kampung Aman .

It’s script flickered with faint light in the harsh sun, and Ami felt a strange satisfaction.

Her influence had taken root.

The village would remember this.

She, not Aku, was the one who solved their “problem.”

Aoi shivered, rigor mortis reverse draining from her body.

Ami dragged her by the ear, waving to the silent crowd.
“Let’s go. City’s waiting.”

As they left, Manalastas called out, “Let us honour the Countess!”
The villagers knelt, one knee in the dust, their relief tinged with horror.

Ami smirked, shrugging as she looked back at the walking corpse, that could only do nothing except follow her.

“You see, Aoi? All it takes is a little faith.”

 Head bowed,the husk  whispered, “Just get me out of here…”

The two trudged to the relatively tiny yet futuristic train station on the outskirts of the village, their only convenient entry and exit point.

In an instant, the disgraced bone ghost, a mere shadow twice removed from her former self, caught wind of something.

Mumbling.

“Yeah.. that’s good… going to be perfect… plans going well.”


Ami. That sick, twisted woman.

Voicemailing someone.

Scheming as usual.

She kept her tone low enough so that Aoi couldn't hear every exact word being spoken, but high enough for her petrified ears to make out some information.


“No… I can’t.”

“I don’t feel good being in HER influence.”

“She’s not going to treat me well.”

“What the actual hell do I do in this situation?”

Inside her skull, emptiness and void turned into a clash between fury and resignation. Rage at her sister, apathy towards the world that abandoned her twice.

“Fuck life.”

Together, wading through the mud, they slogged toward the train station, shadows trailing behind them into the uncertain future.


Atop the smoldering ruins, reality quivers. Kuni, clad in black, purple ponytails wild, stepped from a closing rift, surveying the carnage.

No cryptids. No monsters. No ghosts. Only silence and devastation.

Kuni trembles. 

The sheer scale of the destruction.

The broken split gate.

The destroyed steps leading down the ruins.

The entire area was even more battered than the pictures had shown as if there had been a massive fight taking place at some point.

To her right, a helix-shaped machine, broken, smashed as if someone had kicked it in.

To her left, slabs of concrete jutting out like the bows of sinking ships, and the stone walls, the temple’s supports fragmented and fractured with soil and dirt everywhere.

“This is the only way I can avoid my punishment.”

She bent to recover the broken contraption, cradling it in her arms as the rift began to close.

Symbols shimmered across her back.

天命の傀儡.

Tenmei no Kugutsu.

Puppet of the Heavens.

She vanished into the abyss, and the world’s wounds gaped wider still.

Chapter 36: CXXXVI

Chapter Text


Over the carved stone heart of Bet-Azakh, the sun bore it’s rays down upon the surface of the sand, glinting off the roofs and winding passageways of the desert settlement. Ashi’s black cloak trailed behind her, gathering the fine, ruddy dust as she walked. The morning was filled with the bleating of sheep, the chatter of children, and the rhythmic clatter of looms where villagers from all walks of life spun wool and cotton, weaving robes and headscarves that shimmered like the horizon’s mirage.

Aku’s “favourite” daughter kept her face impassive, green eyes flicking over irrigation channels sliced deep into the plateau. Reservoirs brimming with water reflected the pale blue sky; pipes and sluices ran everywhere, snaking through rock and sand to deliver life to the fields. Gardens clung to the edges of the cliffs, flourishing in defiance of the desert.

Haw’telah, his silvery muzzle twitching in a smile, led the way. Rashid, his staff planted with every step, trailed a little behind, glancing between his master and the silent envoy of Aku.

“You see, young one,” Haw’telah said, pausing near a small herd of goats, some ordinary, some sporting six legs or odd, curling horns.

“All who come here, drink the same water. Even the gods, once.”

They passed under an arch, its pillars weathered but proud, then ascended a spiraling staircase carved within the rock. Ashi stumbled once, catching herself with a hiss as dust rained from above. At the summit, a single, heavy door led into a shrine hollowed into the cliff, bare except for three tall effigies: ancient, feminine forms shrouded in faded blue, green, and ochre.

Rashid’s voice was softer here, nearly lost in the stillness. “We waited so long. Our prayers drift to silence, now.”

Ashi eyed the icons, their painted eyes lifeless, their hands empty.

“You could have adapted,” she said, voice brittle. “Why not move forward?”

Haw’telah’s reply was gentle, but underpinned with steel.

“We did. See our wells, our fields. We survived on our own”

With a pause, as if to collect his thoughts, fragmented like the rays of the desert sun, and continued.

“. But the gods’ silence is not something progress can cure.”

Rashid knelt, bowing his head.

“If  Sheikh Aku can guarantee we keep our land, our rites… perhaps we listen. But we will not bow to false promises.”

Ashi felt a slow, cold anxiety coil through her chest. Once again, she was feeling like she was trapped, slowly crushed by the jaws of jackals that never truly saw her as their equal to begin with.


Is this really what loyalty means? Is this pride, or penitence?

…Father would want me to finish this negotiation. I must prove myself. I must.

She extended her hand, schooling her features into a careful, brittle smile. “On behalf of Aku, you have my word.”

The old fox took her hand, then Rashid. Their grips were cool and measured. Ashi lingered a moment, glancing up at the statues.

Silent, indifferent, ancient.

Would they ever approve?



The dim light of Ari’s cave-laboratory flickered blue and green, shadows crawling over walls lined with tanks and jars. The dogs cleaned quietly in the background, careful to avoid her gaze. Ari’s bandaged right arm throbbed with every heartbeat, threatening to send her to the ground if she didn’t withstand the increasing pain. 

Before her, in a trembling grasp, was one of her creations: a spider fused to a clam, its segmented legs twitching grotesquely from a bleached shell. She stared at it, lips pursed, chest tight.

“I fused them together,” she whispered.


“I can undo it. Maybe.”

She grabbed a vial of old regenerative compound, popping the cork with shaking fingers. Her working hand struggled to restrain the squirming fusion as she poured the chemical, feeling its coppery tang burn her nostrils.

The spider-clam shrieked, a sound so pitiful it rattled Ari’s nerves. She gritted her teeth, watching as the legs spasmed and the shell quivered.

The compound seeped in, and with a last, convulsive shudder, the creature split.


Ari's lip trembled. Her knees almost gave way. Her left hand gripped the hem of her tattered, stained lab coat. The faint sapphire glow of the room shrunk, as if repelled by the repulsiveness of the situation unfolding before it.

“I unfused them.”

What was once a single organism was now two.

A large black widow spider, and a single clam, shell bleached by untold amounts of time in chemical-contaminated water.

The spider curled its legs up, and the clam closed its shell for the last time.

“This…”

Unsure of what to do, she kicked the clam's shell a few times, gently, then more vigorously.

The clam shell never opened up. The spider, curled up, it’s legs beneath it’s body.

The cambion stared.

Numb, for a long time.

The dogs peeked in, uncertain, before slinking away.

She gently arranged the spider and the clam side by side in front of the drawer, as if laying them to rest.

“Sorry,” she muttered.

She turned away from the tank and limped to the scallop-shell desk on the other side of the room.

There, in the hush of the empty lab, she finally let herself sob, quiet, ugly tears that wouldn’t bring anything back.

“I was never meant to fix anything. Just to break, to fuse, to serve his ambitions. I’m tired.”

“What a life I’m living.”


From the confines of it’s own entrapment, the dolphin stared, it’s one working eye totally focused, straining through the murky waters to get a glimpse at the melancholy playing out before it.

“She’s showing remorse.”

“There is a way out for her.”

“There always is.” 


Night stretched long and silent over the wastes. The remains of broken temple loomed in the darkness, its columns like jagged teeth against the sky. Jack rested by a weathered pillar, the three purple woolly rams at his side, their fleece glowing faintly under the stars.

“Baaa…” One of the rams said, ambling over to him as if seeing him as it’s parent.

Jack smiled softly.

“Here you go.”

The ram lapped up the water from his rusty flask as it’s two other identical siblings slumbered behind it.

He sighed, his exhale almost breaking in two.

How had the world come to this, he thought. It was just so broken. Everything from the fact that people respected Aku here, to the fact that he seemed to be giving back to the marginalised here. And yet, Aku had destroyed his kingdom in the past once again.

“Has he changed, or have I not changed…?”

Like the thorns of a cactus, that single thought etched itself painfully deep into the folds of his brain as the Samurai shifted wearily on the dunes of the sand.

“I have no idea where this is, or where I’m going to go from here.”

“I miss home.”

With a grunt, Jack shifted himself to a more comfortable position against the temple’s pillar, his body feeling like a mound of ten boulders. 

He was weary. Tired even.

He was only going on because who else would be able to solve the Aku issue, but him?

The moon gazed back at him, and so did the stars. They watched silently as Jack’s thoughts drifted away, carrying him to sleep amidst the harsh environment of the desert, with the rams by his side.

It wasn’t long before he awoke. 

A shuffling, low growl came from behind.


“Who is there?”

Despite his grogginess, Jack leapt up, sword in hand.

His gaze sharpened, knife-like underneath the moonlight.

Three monstrous, dog-headed shadows emerged from the ruins—black-skinned, golden-headed, blue eyes gleaming with unnatural fire.

The Minions of Set.

They lunged.

“I remember them.”

Jack’s sword flashed.

One aimed it’s sabre at him, it’s nemes whipping in the wind as it jumped from the 6 o’clock position.

Another, snarling softly, encircled him. The third jumped off a pillar, claws bared, fangs gleaming in the moonlight.

“I’d better be careful. From what I’ve remembered..”

The battle-hardened samurai dodged out of the way, as a blade nearly grazed his sturdy cheek

“...The prophecy had to be invoked to defeat them last time.”

The samurai didn’t draw his sword immediately.

He remembered that as a child, Aku had unleashed these things onto him.

He remembered the sword, forged in divinity, yet unable to hurt these things.

He remembered having to reassemble a scarab to summon Horus, who vanquished those things.

But this time, something felt different.

A punch slammed into one of the minion’s faces as Jack ducked underneath two more minion’s lunges, his geta digging into the ground, drawing clouds of silica behind him.

The beast growled, its face suddenly developing massive fractures, shining with the luminosity of a thousand torches.

“That simple punch hurt it badly?”

Even the samurai could not believe what had happened to the monstrous abomination before him. He was so sure that at one point in time, these things had been immune to his sword.


Hurt, the monstrous thing stumbled. It’s joints gave way.

“GRAAAAH!!”

With a final, furious screech, it face-planted into the sand, remnants of it’s physical form dissipating into the wind.

The remaining two, vengeful and angry, inched closer towards Jack.

Again, the Samurai’s gaze hardened, and this time… he drew his sword.

“If my punch can hurt it…”

“Then, so can my sword.”


One lunged at him, brandishing it’s khopesh at him. Another dropped in behind him, from high above, ready to strike.

It was now or never.

With one decisive upward slash of his sword, everything went silent.

So silent, one could hear a pin drop.

The beheaded corpses of the remaining two collapsed into the sand too, and like the first one, their remnants disappeared into the wind, tortured consciousnesses finally laid to rest.

Instead of victory, Jack felt only emptiness. As if the blood had been drained from his body, exiting through imaginary perforations in his heart.

The rams huddled next to him, still unsure of what they’d just witnessed.

“Baa…”

“It is done, do not worry.” Sheathing his sword to pat the ram’s head, he started pondering for a moment.

Unease gripped his body. Being accustomed to the rules of this new world, he was only getting all too familiar with the ‘rules’.

“That’s what Ami said.”

A minute tremor started building in his hands as a vortex of emotions and jumbled thoughts started sucking up the remaining fragments of sanity left in his head.


“Why… so frail now?” He thought, trying to shift his attention to the inexplicable disparity in power between the Minions of Set in his own timeline, and these ones here.

“It would have been a long time, but their power couldn’t have diminished to that point.”

“What happened to them?”

 The stillness of the night continued. Even the stars and the moon seemed to stop their faint pulsing and twinkling.

No wind blowing his wild locks of hair in his face, no sound of crickets chirping, nor jerboas scurrying around—just the echo of his own heartbeat.

He sheathed his sword.

A slow, deliberate clap rang out.

From the silhouettes of the dunes stepped a figure tall and severe, eyes red as coals, smile thin and razor-sharp.


The rams cowered behind Jack, who took a half-step forward, his knuckles white on his sword’s hilt.

 His eyes widened in horror.

He KNEW who she was.

This person.

On the verge of killing him in the erased timeline. 


They lay beneath the stars, side by side on a battered tarp, the crash site’s cold metal around them, gnarled metal casting shadows like twisting spectres over the duo, newly engaged. 

Ashi, clad in her prison dress , huddled close for warmth, her head on his shoulder. She watched the sky, eyes shimmering with new hope and ancient pain.

“Jack…”

His response was gentle and measured. “Yes?”

Ashi asked, her voice sweet and earnest, a far cry from her original brutality.

“What is… family?”

He hesitated, then brushed her hair from her cheek.

“Family can be many things. Sometimes, it is people you’re born with. Sometimes, it can someone you meet just once. Or someone you choose, and who chooses you in return.”

Ashi was silent, then spoke, her voice a brittle whisper.

“I… I never had one. Not truly. My sisters… our mother… We were taught only to serve the demon.”

Jack closed his eyes, regret burning through him. He remembered the snowy woods, six young women falling beneath his blade, each believing she could not change. He remembered Ashi, spitting vitriol at him whilst they traversed through the guts of some huge creature that would eventually spit them out on some lonely reed-filled island, where Ashi had had that epiphany, that evil would never triumph over good. 

Ashi’s voice wavered. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him.

“Am I family to you?”

He turned, meeting her gaze. “You are. More than I ever hoped for.”

Ashi’s lips quirked in a sad, grateful smile. “My family is dead.

The samurai's jaw slackened as he looked away from her. How could he look her in the eye when they were discussing this?

"Mother killed them. She chose that path for us.”

His mind tore itself apart at her monotonous response, almost uttered out of not even conviction, just resignation. She stared off into the dunes of the desert, grains of sand crunching underneath her boots as the fire crackled around them.

"I don't blame you." 

"Not one bit." 

His jaw tightened. “I’m sorry, Ashi.”

She squeezed his hand, sighing softly, brushing a lock of hair away from her fringe.

“I wish things were different. I wish… she hadn’t chosen our paths for us. She sent many orcsmen to you and I, she was the one who tried to kill you on the mountain.”


“ I had to… stop her. For you.”

Jack tried to speak, but his voice caught.

They lay together in silence, the junkyard’s cold giving way to a fragile warmth between them, a small oasis of love in a world made for suffering.

He remembered holding her as she fell asleep, her breath soft against his chest. For a moment, he had believed they could both be free.



Reality cruelly dragged him back.

He was face to face with HER .

The High Priestess tipped her head, inspecting him as one might a curious animal. “To see if the gods would let you win. It seems like they don’t even care anymore.”

She glanced at the rams, making a small haughty gesture at them. “How’s your new flock, Shepherd?”

Jack drew himself up, letting the desert wind return and swirl around them, rattling the broken columns.

“I don’t need gods to guide me. Not anymore.”

Priestess Azumi’s smile softened, almost fond. “We’ll see.”

“And you know what?” She continued, superiority percolating from her voice.

Her response sent chills running down Jack’s spine.

“I learnt a lot, even after my death.” 

He almost lost his balance, letting his hands fall limp to his sides. He could only manifest 3 words in his mind.


"Two... people remember." 

Chapter 37: CXXXVII

Chapter Text

 

Wind howled against the ruined temple, its ancient glyphs all but erased by time and the desert’s fury. Jack knelt in the shadow of a toppled pillar, sand in his teeth, hands pressed to the cooling stone. The sky was ink, barely illuminated by a crescent moon and the faint, unnatural glow from three purple rams pressed to his side. Their wool shimmered in the dark, fluff trembling with each of his shuddering breaths.

He didn’t need to look up to feel her presence. Her facial features spoke louder than her contralto.

The High Priestess.

The shadow in every timeline.

Her voice cut through the wind, cold as the blade she cradled.

“It’s funny. Hilarious, even.”
Her grin carved a crescent across her face as she twirled the tri-pointed naginata.

“Seems you spent fifty years back then…”

She crouched to his level, the sand giving beneath her boots.

“...and still couldn’t get rid of us.”

Jack clenched his jaw, teeth grinding, as the rams pressed in closer, one bleated, shrill and uncertain.

“And yet, Odin, Ra, and Rama never offered you, your kingdom, and your kind any solace after you defeated Lord Aku, did they?”

She crooned, daintily covering her mouth with her hand, almost a mockery of gentleness.

Her hand hovered, about to touch his face, a threat, nothing more.

Then she recoiled, wrinkling her nose in disdain.

He felt himself trembling, not so much from fear, but the white-hot pressure of anger, old as the scars on his soul. He tried to push it down, digging his geta into the sand, but the heat crawled up his spine.

“You…” he forced out, rising slowly, meeting her gaze, his hand tightening on his sword hilt.

The tall woman laughed, a sound without mirth.

“Now, now, child.”


The lone ronin's nostrils flared. “Child…?”

She nodded, that same wry sagacity she wore like armour. Her weapon collapsed with a snap , trident becoming something smaller, but never less deadly.

“Didn’t your parents teach you to be nice?”

That was it.

Jack’s self-control snapped for a heartbeat.

The desert beneath him seemed to quake with the force of it.
“ENOUGH.”

The taller woman crossed her arms, face stoic as a sphinx’s.  “You’re probably thinking about them now, aren’t you?”

“You are unworthy of mentioning them,” Jack spat, voice hoarse, as the rams cowered at his feet.

The High Priestess regarded him like a teacher grading a failing student.
“Hilarious,” she murmured.

He felt tears sting his eyes. The urge to draw his sword, to scream, to attack, was a living thing, but so were the memories.

He could hear his father, distant but clear: “Be calm, and composed, even in the toughest of stakes.”
His mother’s voice: “Violence only begets violence, my dear. Trust your heart.”

He inhaled deeply, felt the rage crawl back down into its pit, and forced himself to lower his sword.

Azumi’s eyebrow twitched, a ghost of surprise.

She was expecting him to break, not merely bend.

“Huh…”

She saw it: a faint blue glow, barely perceptible, pulsing from within him. Not power in the traditional sense, but something older, deeper.


He turned to the rams, kneeling, letting their warmth ground him.

“There’s good in this world too,” he whispered, more to himself than them, and patted their trembling coats. 

Azumi folded her arms.

“Have fun with those.”


Her presence faded, the air cold where she’d stood, a faint afterimage lingering in the dust. Jack looked up.

She was gone.

He listened. The silence was thick, uneasy, but for now… just silence.

His eyes darted up, down left right, creating a panorama of the surroundings, looking for if she'd somehow snuck behind him, planning on ambushing him from his blind spots.

Nothing.

No one.

Just him, a lonely swordsman ripped apart from time once again, in front of the ruins of a temple presumably dedicated to the god, Set, and the 3 rams, with the dry winds of the desert slowing significantly by now.

“Come, little ones,” he said, gathering the rams. “This place is too dangerous. I will take you somewhere safer.”

He left the ruins, the moonlight trailing after him like a memory.



The upper level of Ari’s lab was quiet for the first time in years.


The dogs had cleaned, too well, almost eerily so. Tubes, tanks, shattered glass all put away. But the real mess could not be swept.

Ari stood on a raised platform before the craggy enclosure, cradling a vial of soft blue liquid in her good hand. In absolute dejection, she hung her head, her devil horned hairstyle falling now in clumps around her head as she adjusted the new clean lab coat she'd changed herself into, wincing as her shattered right arm bumped against an irregular rocky crag of the tank.

"Just trust me this once... okay?" Her voice came out meek and unauthoritative.

The dolphin floated belly up, a ruin of what it had once been: fin rotted to the bone, skin peeling in sickly sheets, eyes dull and cloudy.

It looked at her as she approached, then splashed frantically, retreating to the far end of the enclosure.

Ari sighed, her breath fogging the glass. “I know. You don’t trust me. You have every reason.”

She wanted to say more, but the words caught in her throat. Instead, she unscrewed the vial and tipped it in, careful to keep her hands away from snapping jaws.


The blue chemical swirled, dissipating like hope in brackish water.

Nothing happened.

She lingered a moment, eyes prickling. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’ll give you some space.”

She turned away, boots echoing on the clean, damp tiles. Past hollow tanks, past discarded tubes, past the shell of her old life.

Ari punched the code at the door, stepping out into the night. The wind hit her, cold and bracing; it smelled of salt, storm, and freedom. She stood there, watching the clouds swirl, letting herself breathe.

After a moment, a soft shuffle behind her: Colin, the blue dachshund, sat at her heel, saying nothing. She almost told him to leave… but let him stay.

She closed her eyes, feeling, just for a moment, almost human.

The wind whipped in her face, and black muddy sand clung to her boots. The bones of various sea beasts both earthen and alien, littered  the craggy shores and even all the way up to the small rough jagged summits of the island. They watched silently, like porcelain rib cages, still chaining the souls of those unfortunate creatures to the mortal plane even in death.

Desolation.

She looks at the storms swirling around her island, gray, dark, streaks of lightning occasionally permeating the shroud of the cloudy night as stray debris hits her face.

And at that moment, she felt a desire within her.

To try and become normal again, if it was possible.

"I have to get out."

"I can't let Father know about this."

"I just have to.. I just have to get out." 


The chamber was carved into coral-pink rock, walls still warm from the day’s sun. Ashi lay curled on woven mats, a cup of bitter atai cooling in her hands, eyes fixed on the flickering oil lamp.

The communicator buzzed. Her heart stuttered.

She pressed the screen.
Her father’s voice, smooth as silk, filled her ear: “Greetings, dear Ashi.”

She sat up straighter, pride mixing with a nagging dread. “Yes, Father? Anything I can do for you?”

Aku’s voice dripped with a gentle, predatory reassurance.

“No, no. I wished to congratulate you. I hear the restrictions on my companies have been lifted in Bet-Azakh. That is your doing, is it not?”

Ashi’s cheeks burned with pride.

“Yes, Father. I—thank you.”

“You’ve done well,” Aku said. “Listening. That is enough.”

She relaxed into his praise, letting it fill the hollow inside her. The lamp cast monstrous shadows across the ceiling; she barely noticed anything else around her, her drowsy mind only focusing on the praise her father had just bestowed upon her.

Aku continued, “It’s as I told your mother: the world will be better. Not only for us, but for all. I only wish you trust the process.”

She nodded enthusiastically, the words coming faster than thought.

“Yes, Father. Yes.”

“Good.”
He yawned, a sound unnatural and deep. “I’ll be at Bet-Azakh soon. E-789, as it will be known. Will you stay, or does your mother have other tasks for you?”

“No—no, I can stay.”

“Excellent. Sleep well.”

“Goodnight, Father.”

The call ended. Ashi curled tighter on her mat, the pride in her chest beginning to slip into uncertainty. Outside, from somewhere deep in the village, she heard a whispered prayer... a name she didn’t recognise, not Aku’s.

She almost rose to confront it… but hesitated, letting the voice fade.

A crack, somewhere deep inside her, spidering wider.

 




The heart of the ruined temple was a graveyard of lost gods. Stone columns leaned, cracked and pitted, shadows twisting over broken ankhs, scattered amulets, rings of gold and bone. Sand had blown in drifts against the shattered mosaics; a dry, electric charge hung in the air.

Azumi stepped forward, her boots ringing off the fractured tiles. With a deliberate, crushing twist, she ground her heel into the shendyt of the prostrate jackal-god.


It writhed, massive jaws snapping, desperate hands scrabbling for the broken chain of his ankh, just out of reach.

“So…” Azumi’s voice was quiet, almost contemplative, as she leaned over the god’s writhing form.
“You weren’t ready for this, were you?”
“Set?” 

The former god of chaos and discord roared, a sound that shook dust loose from the ceiling, his inhuman voice echoing off dead stone.
“I will NOT—SUCCUMB TO—”

Her tri-bladed spear flashed, swift and pitiless.

The steel plunged through Set’s thick neck with a wet, meaty crunch. He spasmed once, a dying star’s final flare, and slumped, eyes fading.

Azumi’s face was cold, unreadable. She watched the light drain from Set’s gaze, then leaned close, almost kindly.

“Good dog,” she whispered.
“Sleep forever here, and more, from now on.”

Set’s final breath rattled in the dust. Azumi pulled her spear free, blood steaming where it struck the cold desert air.

The god’s form collapsed, dissolving into sand, silica and shadow, the once bombastic, chaos-wielding god of disunity now just another relic to be forgotten by history.

She straightened, eyes scanning the ruined chamber, then stepped over the fallen deity as if he were nothing more than sand.

“Lord Aku, as benevolent as he is, gave him a choice.”

She mused, coughing headily, standing to her full height amidst the settling dust, ruby irises coldly piercing through the smog of the darkness.

“It seems he didn’t take it.”

She further monologued, clearing her throat.


“Therefore, this had to happen.”

The darkness swallowed her as she disappeared, leaving only her display of dominance, the silence of the tomb, and the promise that even gods could be buried.

Chapter 38: CXXXVIII

Chapter Text



The lower levels of the lab felt emptier than ever, but for once, Ari’s hands weren’t slick with blood. She leaned over the rough rim of the dolphin enclosure, nerves twisting in her chest. The air was heavy with brine and formaldehyde.

“Lady Ari, look!” piped Colin, the blue dachshund, one paw pointing eagerly at the tank.

She peered into the murky water. The dolphin, battered and sickly, thrashed its tail, a little more lively than before. Ari’s breath caught, hitching slightly. She grasped the open hem of her lab coat, practically rubbing circles into it as her nerves tingled with anxiety... and yet a bit of excitement.
“It… worked?” she whispered. “The solution actually worked?”

They watched as the tip of the dolphin’s left fluke detached, drifting across the water like a broken leaf, glowing a soft, hopeful blue. Even in this drab sapphire gloom, it looked almost… clean.

A memory flashed: its screams as she injected Aku’s essence, her hands trembling then as now. “Did I actually just heal something… for once?” she whispered, a soft smile breaking through.


The scientist turned away, half-dazed, half-hopeful. “Did I actually just do that?" 

For the first time in ages, she allowed herself a soft smile.

Colin, eyes shining, dropped to one knee, his whole body shimmering sapphire. “We’ve always had faith in you to do the right thing, Lady Ari.”

Ari glanced down at her own hands.
Bruised, battered, finally free of viscera.

She tugged her lab coat tight, forcing herself to stand tall.

“You know what, Colin,” she murmured, crouching to pat his head and flicking black sand from his snout, “You and your brethren… you’re suffering. You don’t even realise it.”

Her gaze swept the tanks around her, the jellyfish with near-human eyes, the seahorse sprouting leathery bat wings, and that one nearly transparent squid whose weary pulse was visible through its skin.

“I’ve done this to you. All of it. But I’ll release you. All of you,” she mouthed, barely louder than the humming pipes.

Colin kept bowing. “A consciousness needs a purpose, Lady Ari. And for us, that purpose is you. We’ll serve you till the last of us expires.”

Ari exhaled, half exasperated, half amused. “Then… my first order is—”

She was interrupted by the clatter of claws and paws. Dreyfus, the yellow bulldog, and Angus, the black Scottish terrier, burst into the lab, nearly tripping over each other.

“We found these, pardon our entrance!” Dreyfus barked, holding out a bundle of files.

“We believe it’s important, sacred, even,” Angus added, barely catching his breath.

Ari accepted the files warily. “O…kay? What’s inside?”

Angus and Dreyfus exchanged glances, Colin peering over their shoulders. “It may not have been meant for lowly subordinates like us.”

She rifled through the pages. Her hands stilled. Her eyes widened.

“This is…”

She tore out a single page, folded it tightly, slipped it into her pocket. “You’re right. This wasn’t meant for us. Not for anyone, really.”

The dogs looked startled. “But Lady Ari, you’re the Exalted’s daughter. Surely—”

Ari frowned, tongue clicking in her cheek. “There are limits to my seniority, trust me.”

She stared at the file, then the tanks, the whole room. “I don’t know how long it’s been here, or why it ended up in my hands. But I know one thing…”

The air went dead still. Silence fell so deep, she could’ve heard a grain of sand hit the tile.

Ari turned, her posture on high alert.

"...Whatever we saw… was not meant to be placed here.”  

A jagged black rift split the room’s blue light, wrong, oily, hissing like a feral tiger locking onto it’s prey.

From the void stepped a woman, all in black, purple ponytails wild and tangled, blood crazed, hands twisted into claws, her smile sharp and hungry.

“Give.”

“That.”

“Back.”





Jack stood alone in the heart of the dunes, sand biting at his ankles, the cold wind howling across ruined stone and dry saltbush. The blade in his grip shivered with memory, its edge stained by battles that never seemed to end.

He said nothing as the terrified bandits bolted, one a green, four-eyed alien, another a weathered woman with skin the colour of the desert, and the last an ibex humanoid clutching what remained of a shattered antler. They scattered into the sunrise, their shapes growing small against the swelling, blood-orange light.

The weary warrior sagged, fatigue pulling at every muscle.

The world was quiet now. No more threats, only the hush of morning and the brush of tumbleweed rolling between shadows. The fronds of a saltbush grazed his leg. For a moment, he let his eyes close, head tipped to the wind.

How serene.
How peaceful.
How idyllic, he thought, almost with a laugh.

A faint “baaaa” broke the silence. The three purple rams pressed in, their glowing coats a comfort against his knees.

He almost chuckled. “Silly me. I forgot about you all, in my absentmindedness.”

Gathering his will, Jack straightened and began walking, rams in tow, the sand crunching beneath his feet. War, exile, grief—all pressed down on his shoulders, heavier than any sword.

A warrior without a cause.
A wanderer in a world that had moved on.

He stared at his blade, then the sun.
“Perhaps… even if Aku is immune to this sword…
Even if the citizens worship him…
Even if he fills their hearts with false hope…”

He paused, jaw unclenching as something like a smile softened his face.

“It will always seem impossible, until it is done.”

“Come, little ones,” he murmured to the rams, and together they vanished into the quiet, endless dunes.






877 rose around them, a labyrinth of bamboo walkways and neon-lit concrete towers, strange pylons humming faintly above lotus-choked canals, glowing faintly with an indiscernible power. The scent of fried plantains, the aroma of steamed food and ozone meshed together as one in the noses of both cambions, an uneasy blend of tradition and progress.

Ami stepped off the train first,  jade on her wrist flashing under the neon as she dragged Aoi by the ear, her undead sister’s tattered cloak trailing like a spirit anchored to a cursed being. 

“Welcome to the big leagues, corpse,” Ami drawled, shoving past a swarm of commuters. Aoi hunched deeper into her cloak, every stare burning like acid. Some onlookers sneered, others averted their gaze; one retched behind a vendor’s stall.

The security scanners barely blinked as Ami swiped her black card—six demon horns embossed, Aku’s sigil shining. They exited the area and stepped into the streets of the “city of new light”, where Aku’s face beamed down from every hovering drone and digital shrine.

“Hah.” Ami’s eyes scanned the skyline, taking in the obsidian ziggurats, the floating halos, the pulse of faith-siphoned energy in every wire and bridge.

She saw… opportunity.

She saw a game she intended to win.

Aoi trudged behind her, haunted by memories.

The taste of ashes.

The feel of chains around her neck.

The world itself seemed eager to remind her: you are filth. You are nothing.

“Oi. Bitch. What you looking at?” Ami snapped.

“Nothing…” The word scraped out of Aoi’s throat, dry and brittle.

Vendors on street stalls hawked sticky rice and skewered meats, their voices blending with the haggling crowds around them. The wailing of a street preacher also rang through the cacophony, face flickering like an emoji, prophesying doom and false dawns.

His rant ended abruptly with a crack of a stun baton. Ami chuckled.

“Father’s got this place on a leash. Let’s tighten it.”

They moved deeper into the city, through the clamour, past faith pylons disguised as shrines wrapped by the winding flora of trees and vines, massive 5 story wooden houses on stilts, as big as water tanks, and statues of the demon, some of which had the title “Ang Dinakila” embossed onto them.

After a not-so-short trek through this city, they finally made their way to the entrance of a complex: the way to get inside, a giant escalator spiralling around a network of sprawling skyscrapers seemingly made out of stone as dark as obsidian.

Ami nudged the husk up with a smirk.

“Let’s go.”

Aoi simply nodded.


“Wow. We are so high up here.”

Aoi stared at her feet, silent, cloak pressed tight to her ruined neck.

Ami leaned on the railing, absentminded. “This building… almost there.”

A pause, as the escalator slowed near the summit.

“A pet needs a home too,” she said.

Aoi’s jaw tightened.
“Fucking bitch of a sister…” she muttered, low enough for only herself to hear.

The escalator deposited them onto a skybridge, glass and steel arching through the clouds.


With the nonchalance of a fox's movements, she swiped her card again.

The doors opened, security lights shifting from red to green. Inside, air-conditioning chilled the marble halls, where portraits of Aku decorated every wall: inaugurations, awards, handshakes with governors and archpriests. His eyes seemed to follow them, as if these pictures were manifestations of his consciousness, watching their every move, never intervening. 

“What father… would do that to me—ARGH!”

The husk yelped as Ami yanked her forward.

“Such drama…”

Sarcastically exhaling as she kept her new asset close, she scrolled through her phone, foot tapping impatiently on the squeaky marble floor.

“Room 45-107… should be this way.”

“This is abuse,” Aoi whispered.

The world seemed to hush; no hum of faith pylons, no traffic, just silence.

Ami turned, her pink glare as sharp as a knife.

“You think I’m abusing you? Ha.”

Aoi shrank, her cloak clutched to her throat, Ami’s shadow swallowing her.

“Ungrateful zombitch,” Ami muttered, scanning the door handle with her phone. The lock disengaged.

“Get in. Can’t believe I’m housing a fucking zombie now.”

Inside, Ami flopped onto the dark, velvety cushions of a couch, rubbing her feet on the carpet, utterly at home. Aoi lingered at the doorway, hollow-eyed, for a moment.

Her phone buzzed.
“Ah… gotta pick up.”

“Hello?” The conversation was muffled for Aoi. Ami’s face shifted from bored, to sharp, to smug.

“What? Oh… no, Waya. chill. Not urgent. I already settled the ‘buto ng multo’ problem. Pak Las can confirm.”

Aoi let the words wash over her, mind drifting.

Her confrontation with the weary samurai, bearded, jaded and clad in only a loincloth, battling all 7 of them in the snowy forest now long erased.

Wielding a kusarigama, an identical weapon to her sister, Ashi's.

The only weapon she'd known, the only way she'd known how for the untold years she'd spent in that dark mountain cavity.

She had tried to wrap the kusarigama's chains around the Samurai, leaping off a branch directly for him as he battled 3 of her other identical sisters.

And she had lost.

He had sideswiped her attacks, making sure she flew past him.

As she ended up in front of him... A spear surprised her.

And she, impaled to that tree, bled out from her chest, as the remaining 5 of them continued to fight.


Her captor’s voice snapped her back to the harsh reality of this existence.

“Now that’s hilarious. Bhumanagara lost one of its most senior leaders?”

“The stone elephant?”

“Some bloke in old robes did it?”

Her face relaxed, tension washing away from her expression.

“ Pfft. Never met him.” Ami said, brushing a lock of wild hair away from her cheeks.

Aoi felt like she almost knew for a fact who her manipulative sibling was talking so disinterestedly about.

The samurai she once tried to kill.

Was he here too?

Was any of it real anymore?

Ami ended the call, slipped her phone away into her blazer’s pocket, and smirked.

“Go take a shower. You smell like toasted Rafflesia buds.”

Her laughter echoed off the walls of the small space, threatening to topple the water bottles on the round table in front of her. 

Aoi glared, middle finger raised as she shuffled to the bathroom across.

“No matter what timeline I’m born in… I’m so fucked.” 

Chapter 39: CXXXIX

Chapter Text

 

 




Sea creatures shrank back, their tanks a silent choir of terror at the destruction of the formerly pristine lab. The dogs huddled at Ari’s heels, hackles up, waiting for her signal.

Across the room, the woman in black, a living shadow, stood like a bad omen, her lavender eyes wild with a hunger that was more than human.
Ari’s face twisted, torn between fear and loathing.
“Who are you?” she spat, refusing to back away.

Kuni, voice slick as venom, pointed a tendril-like finger straight at her.
“That file. Hand it over.”

Ari’s gaze flickered to the side, weighing her odds.
“No.”

For a heartbeat, sapphire and lavender locked—redemption versus relapse.

Kuni’s scowl deepened, her claw trailing along the lab’s wall, painting it with smudges of the abyss.

“You are his daughter, no?”

As the corruption twisted her body, Kuni seemed to flicker between human and something much darker. Ari swallowed, sliding the document into her pocket, wincing at the pain radiating from her right arm, still shattered from her fight with Ami and the ancient swordsman.

“You’re Lord Aku’s daughter, aren’t you?” Kuni repeated, eyes glassy with some fractured, personal logic.

“I’m asking politely here.” 

The scientist hesitated,  her leg muscles almost buckling under the pressure of the question. The dogs pressed in close to her body, nerves radiating from their shuddering forms.

“Yes… but how did y—”

A sudden, brutal knee cracked into Ari’s face, sending her sprawling. She gritted her teeth, blood pooling in her mouth, just as Kuni leapt from above: glowing kiridashi blade aimed for her throat.

Ari managed to roll aside. The floor caved in under the impact, tiles spiderwebbing from the blow.

“Fuck…” she groaned, staggering to her feet.
How do I get out of this…?

Time slowed. Debris hung midair, the dogs huddled, trembling, behind a table.

Kuni’s smile stretched from hunger to emptiness, knife glinting inches from Ari’s neck.

The puppet’s strings snapped.

Kuni’s face twisted with rage.

“You.”

“YOU.”

Ari barely caught Kuni’s right hand, knife shaking between them.
“Wh—”
A savage knee to her liver made Ari retch, doubling over in agony.

“You see?” Kuni hissed, voice fraying.
“You thought I was useless? You thought I couldn’t do it?”

A flash.

The disgraced Agent K remembered the humiliation.


  She'd failed.

Failed in showing her power to one of her enemies.

What's worse, it was the power that she could have had even more of, had she successfully completed her mission to trail Ami and not cause a ruckus in E-273's alleyways.

How The High Priestess's agents had gotten word of her defeat in the alleyway, had been dispatched to take her out.... and how she had ended up in that cave, reeking of gore and butchery, bone-like protrusions jutting out of the borders of that blasted cavern.

And how... Aku.

Her saviour.

He had looked at her with almost a fatherly sort of disappointment. As if he was draping a curtain around his real thoughts.

"At one point, my sweet Kuni, I trusted you more than all of my seven."

"You didn't live up to me and Azumi's expectations."

He still gave her a choice.

Even when she felt she didn't deserve it.

Leaving her under the care of that cruel, obscenely tall woman, draped in all black from neck to legs.

She said, with contempt in her voice, to the cowering, badly beaten Kuni, lying on the mulch and gunk-stained floors of the cave.

"Lord Aku doesn't like when people fail him."

"But in all his benevolence, he asked me to give you a second chance."

And as Kuni winced, while The High Priestess branded some glyphs of fire and hatred into her back, she could almost feel the venom from that tall woman's faux smile burning deep gashes that clawed her way into her spine.


"So. This is that."

"Be our little obedient puppet."

"And use the power of the rifts."

"Let that flow forth through your veins. Let it slowly replace the blood flowing through your body, let it become one with your soul.”

"Let it be known that if this little test we've put forth for you succeeds..."

"You will indeed, be in serious consideration...."

The Priestess crossed her arms, ruby irises entranced by some mangled, skeletal protrusions on the cave wall, heels scraping against the mud of the cave.

"...for the new Heir to the Global Order."

The kiridashi clattered to the floor, its light dulling as Kuni laughed—manic, desperate, a broken record in a sea of shifting alliances.

“SEE THIS, LORD AKU? HIGH PRIESTESS? WITNESS MY PROWESS IN COMBAT!”

She pummelled Ari, every blow a crescendo of bitterness.

“SEE THIS…? SEE THIS? I’M NOT TERRIBLE AT FIGHTING, AM I?!”

Fists landed, again and again, until Ari was barely clinging to consciousness.

A laugh, cold and cruel, rang in Kuni’s head, as she continued to rain hellfire down on her opponent.

“You can get a new phone, some backup, and hopefully some people more skilled at fighting than you in this city.”

Kuni could hear the serpentress’s shrill laugh, as clear and sharp as glass, as she was left in the dirt of the alleyway.

“DO YOU SEE… AMI—THAT I’M STEPPING ON YOUR IDENTICAL SISTER? RIGHT NOW?!”

Ari, jaw halfway split, could only groan.

Kuni paused, noticing the cast on Ari’s arm, cackling, jaw unhinging like a frilled shark in maniacal glee.


“Oh. Look at that. The arm’s in a cast. HA!”

She reared back for another blow.


“What…”

Both combatants’ eyes widened.
The dogs, brave and desperate, wedged a makeshift cushion, hastily balled bubblewrap scavenged from some storage box, between Kuni’s fist and Ari’s ruined limb, sparing her a shattering at the very last second. 

Kuni turned, fury scrawled all over her her face.

“Forgot to deal with the lackeys, did I?”

She was cut off by a flash from the tank:
A mutant seahorse, fins sharp and desperate, launched itself at Kuni, biting and thrashing.

A yelp.

“GET OFF ME..!!!”

The brutalised cambion staggered upright, spitting a molar onto the floor, a weak laugh bubbling up through the pain.

“Ha… I think the tides might turn after all.”





He trudged through the dunes, the purple rams bleating softly at his heels.

“How long can this go on…”

The sun was merciless, baking the sand, heat even rising to his geta.

He took a slow swig from a hollowed log flask, wiping sweat from his brow, and squinted ahead.

A rock formation loomed.

Tall, jagged, domed, casting a sharp shadow across the sand.

It wasn’t the stone that caught his eye.

It was the machinery and the materials. 

Dozens of vehicles crowded the sandy swells: black limousines with tinted glass, tanks bristling with laser turrets, excavators whose arms rotated with unnatural speed, neon-lit backhoes, cranes stabbing at the sky. Everywhere, construction gear, heavy coils, pipes, netted tarps, bundled logs, was piled in ordered chaos.

His chest tightened. “What is happening here?” he murmured.

Above it all, a banner rippled in the breeze, text stitched in ornate, unfamiliar script.
He walked closer, reading as the wind snapped the cloth open, its message both familiar and revolting:

“Shrakhta d-Burkhto…”
“Prosperity Has Arrived, Bet-Azakh welcomes Sheikh Aku!”

Everywhere he looked, the six-horned silver emblem, Aku’s mark was stamped, emblazoned on every vehicle, every coil of metal.

The samurai’s face fell.

Even in the sweltering heat of the remote desert, Aku’s shadow had expanded. 

The war-torn warrior’s grip on his sword tightened, the memory of his last two failed strikes at Aku echoing in his bones.

His mind spun: Should he risk this? Should he get any closer, especially when he knew, knew, that his blade could not harm Aku here?

A voice echoed from the past. His mother, her face lined with worry and wisdom, tending to his father as blood stained the bandages:
Go, my child. Find the source of this corruption. Set things right, not just for us, but for all who suffer under Aku’s shadow.”

His brows drew together, mouth set in a line. It wasn’t quite fury, not yet.
But it was something close.
Contempt.

“If my life ends on this very day…” he whispered, eyeing the banners, the convoys, the silent watchers behind tinted glass,
“It will not have been in vain.”

He set his shoulders, stepped past the monolith, and walked towards the heart of the corruption, rams faithfully in tow.

Chapter 40: CXL

Chapter Text


Her resolve was as shattered as her test tubes.

She stumbled, lips split, blood pooling in her mouth, eyes wild and rimmed with pain. She managed a shaky punch that caught Kuni across the jaw, but it was more defiance than power.

I can’t fight like this… urgh…

Kuni’s body flickered with restless, animal rage, her elongated arm barely missing Ari’s skull. The dogs cowered near the battered, bat-winged seahorse, all of them battered and bleeding.

Ari, chest heaving, locked eyes with the purple-haired gargoyle. “Fucking hell…”

Kuni, hair slicked to her face like seaweed, sneered. “You hide too much.”

She socked Ari hard—then a diving kick drove Ari to the floor.

“That’s why you’ve been rotting on this island for Lord Aku knows how long,” she spat, voice cold as ash.

Ari tried to stand, but everything hurt. The dogs hurled a vial of orange solution, hoping to help.

CLINK.

Glass shattered. The chemicals splattered, stinging both women. Kuni screamed, clawing at the burning spots on her suit.

“DIE!” she shrieked, grabbing for the kiridashi, blade gleaming as she lunged at Ari and the dogs.

“NO—!” Ari wailed, sapphire eyes wild.

‘Wh-”

Agent K found herself jammed to the floor. Ari, blinking, saw the rotted dolphin—half its body missing—had hurled itself from the tank, pinning Kuni beneath its monstrous weight.

Kuni writhed, shrieking. “WHAT THE HELL IS—”

She never finished. The dolphin’s teeth, somehow sharper than an angler’s, found her face. Blood sprayed across the linoleum, Kuni’s screams shaking the pipes.

The dogs piled on, holding her legs as best they could. Colin, Dreyfus, Angus—like little elves beating up a witch. The scene would have been comical would their lives not be anchored to the outcome. 

“URGH… GET THE HELL OFF ME!” Kuni’s voice was half-feral, crimson running down her cheek.

Ari, gasping, felt the kiridashi’s cold bite in her casted arm.
“Ngh—”

Colin tried to help, yelping as Kuni hurled him into a glass tube with a shattering crash.
“Lady Ari—!”

Kuni broke free, stomping the wounded dolphin, as gore spilled from it’s wounded body. Ari could only watch, numb and terrified.

“She’s… she’s attacking everyone—she can’t even control her own violence."

"That’s why… she’s losing,”


Kuni grabbed her own throat, choking as Ari’s boot slammed into her vulnerable neck, having had barely enough time to process the realisation.

She spat blood on the linoleum floor, her words a bitter threat:

“I’ll kill you all… and everything you love…”

“Love?” Ari echoed, stunned. A realisation flickered in her eyes, sharp, sudden, resolute.

Kuni closed in, face gashed, lunges wild and unhinged, fist cocked back.

Ari didn’t flinch as the punch came, eyes lowered.

CRACK.

Ari’s boot caught Kuni square in the face, the sound echoing across the ruined lab.

Kuni reeled. Ari followed up, slamming her forearm into Kuni’s jaw as she gagged, body twitching from the impact.

I’m losing… no. No. NO! I’M NOT LOSING AGAIN!

The puppet’s limbs stretched, her silhouette monstrous, almost pterodactyl-like in the lab’s sickly glow.

A savage laugh.

“I don’t even need to kill you. I just need the file.”

She dove for Ari’s pocket. The scientist stumbled back, breath coming in ragged gasps.

The dogs tried to stop her, wielding hooks, swinging chemicals. Kuni brushed them aside, smashing faces and dodging desperate blows.

The dolphin, wounded, locked eyes with Ari, then frantically flapped a ruined fin at a thick steel pipe by her feet.

Ari saw it, understood in a heartbeat. No time to hesitate.

She was too slow. 

Kuni’s fist crashed into Ari’s ruined right arm. Pain like a lamprey’s jaws shot up through her veins, spiteing the adrenaline rush that had taken over every combatant. She screamed, body folding over.

“That’s what you’ve been protecting all this t—?”

WHOOSH.
A torrent of water burst from the pipe, flooding the room in seconds. The lab became a churning pool of chaos, blood, and brine.

The dolphin’s eye met Ari’s again.
This is the only way.







The sun scorched the sky above Bet-Azakh, burning everything to gold and white. Amid the clatter of looms and chatter of villagers, Aku’s convoy made its way up the ancient steps carved into the living rock.

Haw'telah, the old fox, led the way, his gray thobe shimmering. “Here, Lord Aku, see how we catch the water as it comes down from the cliffs?”

Aku, cool as ever, adjusted his horns, feigning curiosity.

“A most
ingenious system, truly. I’ve never seen aqueducts carved so finely; see, daughter? The world innovates even when it is forgotten by history.”

Ashi, standing beside him, nodded without feeling. “Yes, Father. Their methods are… resourceful.”

Rashid, the chief, beamed. “We cut these channels after the old gods stopped answering us. Now the rain, when it comes, fills these reservoirs.”

He gestured proudly at the pools glimmering under nylon nets.

Aku’s smile was silk and venom.

“Impressive. But what of water quality? The pipes, the ceramic, all that, surely they’re not enough to keep your people healthy year after year?”

Rashid faltered, embarrassment showing beneath his sun-bleached headscarf. “It is true. Some years, sickness is worse than drought.”

Aku clapped his hands, voice rising above the crowd.

“That is why I come bearing gifts . My partners at Shrakhta d’Burkhto will bring anti-rust linings for every pipe, new filters for your dams—at no cost to you.”


He turned to Ashi, gaze steely, voice hardening.

“My daughter will oversee the upgrades. She will bring you clean water—and faith in a new age.”

Haw’telah bowed, Rashid’s jaw dropped in awe. “Sheikh Aku, we are… unworthy of such generosity.”

Aku’s eyes flickered, smile never reaching them. “No one is unworthy, only unready.” He shot Ashi a hard look. “Isn’t that right, dear?”

Ashi pressed her palm to her heart, speaking as if by rote. “If it is your will, Father, I will see it done, no matter the cost.”

Aku’s grin widened. “That’s my girl. All I ask is trust.”



“All I ask is your trust,” the demon-turned-god clasped his hands in glee. 

“Trust my leadership, and the rewards will come.”

A pause.

Aku’s ears twitched.
“I hear noises.”

Ashi’s hand hovered near her belt. “Sounds like… panting?”

The villagers turned, startled, as the ragged figure of Jack emerged, dragging his feet through the sand, three purple rams at his heels. His gi was shredded, hair wild, face blistered with dust and sun.

He looked straight at the villagers, at Aku, at Ashi.
“Do NOT TRUST HIM.”

Rashid blinked. “Who are you?”

Jack’s voice was hoarse with desperation. “He is evil. Pure evil. Don’t give him anything. Don’t let him—”

That demon-turned-deity, utterly unmoved, just mocked his former arch rival.

“P-p-pure e-e-e-evil…” he said, his pitch rising with every syllable. 

One of Aku’s monstrous bodyguards stepped forward, but benevolence’s personification held him back, almost bored.

Ashi stared coldly, arms slightly extended in front of her, as if bracing for a fight.

“He’s the one who killed Devansh.”

She gestured at Jack.

Her father shrugged.

“The stone elephant fell. But I let that ornery man live.”

Ashi frowned. “Why?”

Haw’telah muttered, “This is harder to follow than a block of calcite…”

And at that moment, the samurai, humiliated beyond belief, felt his patience snap once and for all.

The anchor to sanity that had so kept him half sane for this twisted spiral downward had reached the bottom.

And he… just like everyone…

Was pulled down into the depths of spiritual irretrievability.


“YOU…”


He sprang, sand spinning beneath his feet, blade arcing toward Aku in one last, hopeless lunge.

Aku’s eyes rolled. “Ugh. This again?”

In Jack’s mind, time slowed—every memory, every wound, every reason to keep fighting, crashing together:
It doesn’t matter if my sword fails.

It doesn’t matter if nobody believes me.

All that matters is I tried.

If I perish here... so be it.

He let out a battle cry, all pain and hope and fury.

A flash.

A searing burst of light.

Pain.

Crimson splattered the sand, wool suits and robes over the baking plateau. 

The samurai hit the ground, howling in agony—his wrist half-gone, blood gushing over the grit.

Ashi stood above him, arm outstretched, hand shaking. The laser blaster smoked in her grip. Her eyes.

those same eyes he’d trusted, loved, mourned.

wide, hollow.

Aku froze. His henchmen surged forward, but Ashi didn’t move.

The dishonoured prince of a kingdom long since fallen stared at her, the woman who’d once saved him, now reduced to this.

This corpse of a bride.

This husk of a human.

This… monstrous psychopath.

Face-down in the dirt, choking on blood and disbelief, he could only muster up a faint whisper


“Ashi… why?”

Her hand trembled.

She said nothing.

The desert wind howled, lamenting the scene it had drifted past.

The entire group stepped back.


Despite the burning surface of the dunes, the world felt smaller, emptier, colder than ever before.

 

Chapter 41: CXLI

Chapter Text

 




Razor-sharp grains of sand blasted through the winds of Bet-Azakh as if the city itself was waiting to bleed.
Ashi heaved, cloak clutched tight, the wind whipping dust into her eyes.
Aku stepped forward, fangs on show, the great demon himself… rattled.

“Wow… dear,” he said, fickle grin on his face. “Such loyalty… such passion.”

Ashi’s heart fluttered with fear, with the ghost of pride. “Father, that’s my duty… to defend you from any and all threats.”

The world felt broken.
Haw’telah and Rashid, silent.
Aku’s six agents in black, unmoving.
Even the desert wind seemed to recoil.

Rashid looked down at his bloodstained thobe, then at the battered samurai. “Sheikh Aku…”

Aku’s face soured, realisation flickering in his demonic eyes.

They’ve lost faith in me.

Because of this.

How… unexpected.

With a forced calm, he cleared his throat and stroked his beard of blue flame. “Settle down, everyone. Settle down.”
He gestured to a hulking guard.

“Teini, please, help the poor man up. Use that board, yes—the one by the sediment’s partition. Put him on there, use it as a makeshift stretcher for now. Take him to Bet-Azakh’s medical centre.”

“I’ll pay for the bills.” Aku said, barely a hint of discomfort in his cadence. 

The agent and his fellows obeyed, as they, along with Haw’telah and Rashid found themselves rushing to Jack’s side.

The samurai’s world was a tornado of noise, heat and blood.

The demon is… helping me?
That cannot be right.

He let himself be lifted, hearing Rashid’s voice through the haze.

“Hang in there, buddy, we gotcha. Just stay awake, alright?”

Haw’telah’s voice gently lilted, “Here, we do not practice violence against others.”

As they carried Jack down through the city’s labyrinthine canyons, past wool looms, past homes, shops, temples carved into the rock, he weakly asked, “Where are… the… rams…?”

A faint “baa” answered him.
One of the agents nodded, almost sheepishly. “They’re safe.”

Jack tried to smile, the pain in his wrist now a distant thing.
All he wanted. his family, his friends, the world he’d lost.

He missed his Ashi.

He missed the allies in the future that he erased, like the Scotsman, Woolies, Triseraquins, and all the others that he had come to know.

He almost wished he’d had time to say goodbye to them, when they aided him in the final battle.

Now here he was, alone in a new world, where even people like Da Samurai… were avid fans of how Aku ran things.

His family, his kingdom, now presumably long since ashes and debris. His father, in his regal sokutai, his mother in her royal junihitoe.

That was all he wanted to see at this very moment. 


 “WHAT THE—!”

Agent K’s scream reverberated through the flooded lab.

"HURGH..." She hacked up water, struggling to swim.  

In her corner, the scientist of the septuplets, soaked and shivering, felt her strength draining.
Pain… this water’s ice-cold… Nerves shot.

Hypothermia?

Or just… fate?

She tried to move, protect the documents, but her hand barely worked.
The water churned with broken glass, chemicals swirling, dogs yelping.

I should have been better.

To the dogs.

To the creatures.

What comes around goes around…

Ari sank beneath the water.
The jellyfish and squid, her own cursed creations, brushed past, heading for freedom.

Go free.

I know I did wrong.

She let herself go, breath bubbling out.

Bloop.

Kuni, hair wild, torpedoed through the water, eyes mad.
“THAT DOCUMENT. IS MINE!”

“Wh-!”

Something stopped her.  The dolphin and seahorse, glowing with sapphire aura, had  created air bubbles.

Real, shimmering like snowglobes in the chasmic whirlpool.

Impossible.

One enveloped Ari, helmed by the rotted dolphin, and the other by the seahorse, the dogs inside, gasping for breath.

The dolphin winced as Kuni’s anger bombarded the water with soundwaves, threatening to break it’s cetacean eardrums.

There was no time for vengeance.

Only escape.

The seahorse and the dolphin looked at each other, sapphire air bubbles in tow.

A nod. Mutual acknowledgement.


“Let’s go.”

They made a break for the exit, their path increasingly getting clogged by debris.  

Debris clogged every path. Kuni chased after the bubbles, rage drowning her.

More things rushed past them.

Rusted metal, pipes, clipbooks, test tubes, boxes with locks on them, wood planks, metal all flew past them, locked in a chase to determine who would live, and who would die.

She tried to catch up.

Yet…


She found herself gasping for air, the seahorse and dolphin edging out just faster than her.

LORD AKU! SAVE ME! GRANT ME POWER!

The remains of the lab began to collapse. Inward. Boulders fell around her, forming an almost perfect ring of stones from which there was no escape.

Rocks tumbled from the ceiling, sealing Kuni’s fate.

“No. NO—”
A massive boulder cut through the froth, having detached from the ceiling.

She saw it coming toward her, barreling downward through the waves like an anchor in freefall.

“No…’


The sun was sinking, the wind still sharp.

Ashi stood by Aku, phone in his hand, sand swirling at their feet.

“So, you’ll be coming to Bagong Ningning soon, right father?”

Aku gazed at the horizon, voice distant.
“Yes. Be patient, pink-eyed one.”

He pocketed the phone, then turned to Ashi.

“Today you shocked me,” he said, words like scimitars to her heart.
.

Ashi’s mouth trembled. She grabbed the hem of her cape, unable to process the dissatisfaction.
“Father, I—”

Aku exhaled, smoke curling from his lips. “Shocked me at your lack of self-control.”

“No, Father. No. I can prove to you—”

“There’s no need,” he cut her off.

“You’re not leading the Global Order. Not now.”

Something in Ashi snapped. sorrow, then fury.
After everything she’d done, why was it never enough?

After all she'd done for him in this timeline?

Stomping out the dissent?

Eliminating threats to public order?

He and her knew just how much of a nuisance this Samurai was.

So why was he mad at her.

“WHY…”

The thought almost gave Ashi an aneurysm, as she clutched her head, her pointed hairdo slumping even further. 

Aku watched, arms folded, his face a simple frown.
Ashi crumpled to her knees, desperation twisting her voice.

“Give me one more chance… father.”

A cold smile.

“Okay. Then come with me to E-877.”

In his own mind, all he could think was this.

These words.

Last chance, sweet Ashi. Let’s see if you’re truly worthy… or just another faded shadow.

Perhaps… you aren’t even worthy of this chance.

We’ll see. 

Chapter 42: CXLII

Chapter Text

The world was pressure.

Her eardrums popped under the weight of not just the water, but everything else on her mind.

“I can’t die here.”

The words were a gurgle of air and bloody water in her throat. The boulder that pinned her to the flooded temple floor was a mountain, an absolute truth of weight and stone that held her in its indifferent embrace. her muscles screamed, straining against the impossible mass as more debris rained down around the former puppet, each splash a fresh wave of cold against her feverish skin. The water was rising, or perhaps she was sinking.

It made no difference.

"My rifts… I can’t use them. Why… NO!"

The panic was a frantic bird beating against the cage of her ribs.

The portals, her very essence, the power that defined her existence as an agent; they wouldn’t answer her call.

The familiar tear in reality she could summon at will was gone, leaving only the crushing reality of failure.

"PLEASE."

NO.

In the oxygen-starved haze of her mind, an image formed, sharp and cruel. The High Priestess, her face a mask of serene disappointment, thumbing her nose at her in that condescending way. Her voice was as clear as a temple bell in the winter air.

“Death is failure, Agent K.”

“Remember that.”

Her flailing ceased.

The struggle felt pointless now, a distant memory of a fight already lost.

Power spent.

The inky blackness of the water, once a terrifying shroud, now seemed… welcoming.

A soft, quiet end.

As the last of her strength ebbed away, the darkness seeped in and memory took hold.


“It wasn't always this way."

T he memory flooded in, warm and golden. The sun. a great, yawning lion of saffron and rose, finishing its shift above the quaint little village.

It was that perfect time in the early evening when the air was still warm but held the first promise of a cool night. The scent of cooking fires and evening blossoms hangs in the air. All gathered on a porch, a tangle of limbs and unrestrained laughter, playing Fukuwarai. Kojiro is losing, as usual.

His blindfolded form leans precariously over the blank paper face, a paper eyebrow in his hand. He places it where the chin should be. A cascade of giggles erupts from the rest of them.

“Kojiii… HAHAAHAHAAHAHAH,” her own voice, so high and carefree it sounds like a stranger’s, rings out above the rest.

The laughter from the others is raucous, uncontainable joy.

Fuming, Kojiro rips the blindfold from his face, his eyes already glistening with frustrated tears. “You guys are bullying me!!!!!”

She saw herself clutching her own sides, tears of mirth streaming down her face. “Sorry! You’re just so baaad at it!”

A ghost of a smile touched her lips beneath the water. The memory, so vivid, so full of light.

“Hahahahahahahahahahaha....”

“I did have friends. I had family. Everyone here was family.” 

The images shift, a montage of warmth and safety.
Her and her friends, seated around a low tatami mat in a neighbor’s house, the air filled with the gentle steam from teacups. Her fingers, small and clumsy, fold colorful paper into the sharp creases of a crane.

She sees herself falling, the rough scrape of a drain grate against her knee and the splash of murky water soaking the hem of her favorite yukata.

She remembered wailing, not from pain, but from the indignation of being so messy. And then her mother’s arms, her voice a soothing balm, promising a warm bath and sweet rice cakes.

“I did have everything.”

A memory so precious it ached. She could see herself, tucked beneath the comforting weight of a futon. A house fan whirred rhythmically in the corner, a faithful guardian against the unusual heat of the night. The soft, gentle light from a paper lantern illuminated her mother’s face as she sat beside her, a storybook open in her lap.

Everything someone like her could ever want.

...and then Urashima Tarō opened the box,” her mother’s voice is a soft melody.

“After looking at the village around him, he felt such a temptation to open it. He lifted the lid, and in that instant, he became old. His beard lengthened, turning white as snow, his eyes dulled, and his skin wrinkled, aged like dried prunes in the sun.”

Her mother’s words paint the picture in her mind.

“The princess appeared behind him, and she clasped her hands in sadness, the only words from her mouth being… ‘I warned you… not to open the box.’ ”

“Tarō-san incredulously heaved, his voice hoarse and ancient. ‘I must have not heard that. Why was the box off limits?’ ”

“The princess simply told him, ‘Because, in it was your old age, and in that instant, all the years of your longing caught up to you.’ ”

Her mother closed the book. The soft snap brought her back to the room. Kuni just stared ahead, the weight of the story settling over her. 

“Wow… mummy,” a young Kuni whispers, her voice thick with emotion. “That was…”

“Aha, dear,” she says, stroking her daughter’s hair. “You asked mummy to read it to you. I warned you, it was not going to be a happy one.”

The hot prickle of tears form at the corners of her eyes. “Poor Tarō-san! Poor Princess… sob… hic…”

Her mother gathers her into a hug, her embrace the safest place in the world.

“Don’t worry, child. A tale is a tale, after all.”

She pulls back, her gentle eyes meeting her daughter’s.

“Take it more as a tale to cherish what you have, and to always keep your loved ones close to your heart.”

The two share a hug again, and like the child she is, Kuni buries the face in the familiar scent of her mother’s clothes, feeling utterly and completely safe.


“I couldn’t have predicted that coming.”


The memory shatters.

She finds herself waking up. Not to the gentle rays of the sun, but to screaming. The sound rips through the pre-dawn stillness of the village, a chorus of terror and pain. She hugs her plush aqua-blue animal to her chest, its worn fabric a flimsy shield, and, as timid as a caterpillar, edges slightly to the window.

Chills, cold and sharp as ice, cascade down her spine.

Her eyes widen, trying to process the impossible scene outside.

“that…”

Fire.

Fire is everywhere.

The quaint wooden houses are skeletal torches against the dark sky.

Fences are splintered into kindling.

Structures collapse into plumes of smoke and embers. But the worst part, the image that sears itself onto the back of her eyelids forever, is the figure at the center of it all.

Someone is screaming for help as a monstrous, boar-headed… thing… grabs them. Its limbs are unnaturally twisted, its back distended. It lets out a wet, snuffling sound and opens its maw. The person’s soul is pulled from their body, not as a mist, but like spaghetti, an ethereal light spread thin, spiraling into the abyssal darkness of that creature’s mouth.

“....!!!!” A silent scream locks in her throat.

“I have to wake father, mother, and sister… up.”

CRASH.

The sound,  from the front of the house.
Followed by screams—a man’s, a woman’s, an older boy’s.

Her parents.

Her brother.

The screams are cut short with horrifying finality.

A wave of fire and shadow spreads as one across the timber beams and floors of her home, consuming everything.

She stands still frozen, trembling so violently her teeth chatter. The plushie is a lead weight in her arms.

The screams subside.

Then… silence.

A terrible, profound silence that is worse than the noise.

Then, a heavy, rhythmic plodding. As if the oni, the yokai, whatever it is, is coming for her. A silhouette forms at the end of the hall, framed by fire—razed fur, a distended back, stomping its way through the wreckage of my home.

Heading for HER room.

There is no hiding.

As silently as her terrified body will allow, she moves.

She slides the shoji screen open with a prayer, hoping it doesn't creak and leaps out of the low window, landing hard on the damp earth outside.

And she runs .

She can’t even cry. Her pyjamas pick up dirt, mud, and soot. The air is thick with smoke and the smell of burning pine. She just ran, clutching her toy, her mind a mantra of denial.

“No.”

“NO.”

“I know my family’s dead.”

Everywhere she looks she just sees burning houses, the crackling of the material burning and crumbling to dust, and the howl of the wind in her face.

NO screaming.

No bodies even. Just the emptiness where they used to be.

A single, hot tear finally traces a clean path down her grimy cheek. She sees a vandalised house, its door kicked in, and races into the collapsing structure. Hiding behind a heavy cabinet, the young girl tries to make herself as small as possible, curling into a tight ball. She’s trembling, biting her fingernails, her other hand stroking her purple ponytails in a desperate, shuddering attempt at self-comfort.

Whatever that thing is, it won't find her here.

It won't.

So she hoped. 

A low, guttural snarl echoes from directly behind her. The sound of splintering wood fills the air as the cabinet is torn apart.

YAAAARGH.

“It’s over…”

“…it was then… he arrived.”

A six-horned… guy.

A figure in an impeccable black business suit appears as if from nowhere.

“BAAAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAAHAHAHAH!”

His laughter, a force of nature. He kicks the boar-yokai square in the face.

Its teeth fly out like scattered pebbles as it crashes through a decayed, worn-out shoji screen.

The demonic spirit groans, lunging back at its attacker.

The six-horned man doesn't move. A perfect, cuboidal shield of black energy manifests before him, and the yokai slams into it, collapsing in a daze.

The new entrant’s eyes widen, his blue, flaming eyebrows crackling with utter contempt, his green lip upturned in a sneer.

“As usual…” he says, his voice, a suave lilt with a maniacal edge to it that vibrates through the very air.

He smashes his fist into the demonic spirit's face, the impact so powerful it seems to blast the creature out of its own pocket realm and back into the real world. She ducks as it flies over her head.

“Nuisances must be eliminated from the world I seek to forge with my own fists…”

He glanced at her, then gloated as he sauntered over, driving his gnarled, shoe-clad foot down onto the demonic spirit’s head.

“BWAHAHAHA…” His booming laugh cuts off, his face dropping to a blank, cold stare.

He drills his foot further into the creature's essence.

It groans, its form flickering and glitching erratically, as if the fabric of spacetime itself were trying to delete it from existence.

“You tell Kyōma Chogami ‘be gone’, and he picks a fight,” he muses, snickering at the futility of the spirit's resistance.

“Without realizing the true power of the entity standing before him… what a nuisance.”

And there was one thing that the girl could think of, at that very moment, staring at the scene before her. 

“He saved me.”

The shadowy, glitch-like yokai dematerialises into smoke under it’s slayer’s foot. He stands triumphant over the lesser entity, the moonlight illuminating his powerful silhouette.

"What a small fry… heh."

She hugged her plushie tight in the ruins of her life, her lip slightly ajar.

“This… this demon… it killed my family. You… you… strange… you…”

He turned to her.

As if it’s the moment that the terrifying mask of power melts away, replaced by a soft smile.

Fangs protrude from his green lips as he adjusts his suit and blue tie.

“Hello, dear.”

“You… are you… good?” She asks, her voice a tiny whisper.

He grins, a knowing, almost playful look in his eyes. “Good? You could say that.”

“I-I’m scared…”

His blue, flaming eyebrows crackle, not with contempt this time, but with something that she may have mistook for glee.

He kneels down to her level.

“Would you want me to… take you under my wing?”

He gestured to the devastation around them both.

“Such a sweet child… forsaken by the old entities of this world.”

He gently lifts her, settling her small, vulnerable frme on his elbow as if she weighed nothing.

He lowered his gaze, his grin widening.

“One demon’s trash… is another deity’s treasure.”

In that moment, something invisible happened.

She felt a strange warmth in her head, a sense of belonging.

But only he could see it: threads of fluorescent blue faith, sprouting from her traumatised mind, snaking their way towards his soul, anchoring her to him..



“Where is this place… Mister?”

He sauntered, a spring in every step he took, over to a set of circuit breakers on a concrete wall, flipping them with a dramatic flourish. Harsh fluorescent lights flickered on, illuminating a vast, barren basement. A few chairs and tables with stacks of paper were the only furniture. It’s cold and empty.

The figure crossed his lean yet firm arms, ruffling his suit in the process.

“This is a space where you can be safe.”

His voice echoed slightly in the chamber.

“Because I’ll protect you.” He leaned down, his gaze intense.

“You’ll become a good person, dear heart.”

He licked his lips.

She could only manage a hesitant smile, still clutching her  aqua-blue plushie.

“Hehe…” The fear is still there, but it’s overshadowed by a desperate need to believe him.

“I trust you, mister.”

“But what should I call you?”

“Ah.”

He flicks his hand, a gesture of modest grandeur.

“I go by many names. Like, you know, Hakuai, Bo'ai, Tianjun of the Global Order, Ang Dinakila, Bayangan yang Terhormat, Sozdatel Protsvetania, Le Père du Renouveau…”

He stopped, noting the utter confusion on the little girl’s face, illuminated by the single, swinging lightbulb above them.

“Oh right. It’s probably too complicated for her.”, her enigmatic saviour thinks to himself. 

“Uhhh mister… heeeheee. Tee-en joon? Sauce… dart tell? Ree nou voh?”

He snapped out of his self-indulgent linguistic stupor.

“OH, right, yes, dear. Well…”

He straightened up, a thoughtful expression on his face as he racked his mind for a simple, yet effective name for her to call him.

“You may call me… Aku-san.

Chapter 43: CXLIII

Chapter Text

“So I trained."

She's young. She's raised to be a tool of the regime. She's training in shadowed, reeking facilities, sweat pooling under swinging bulbs, fists cracked and aching as she drills kick after kick into battered dummies. The High Priestess, statuesque and severe, leans in the doorway with arms crossed and a wolfish smirk.

"Very good, dear Kuni," her new caretaker croons.

"Marvelous. You destroyed the dummies with time to spare, disarmed every one. Most of my trainees fail that, you know. But you? Exceptional."

Kuni slumps against a warped wooden beam, gasping, suit torn at the knee.
 "So… do I get a break now, Mrs… High Priestess?"

A click of the tongue.
"Tsk. Four minutes, no more. Don’t get soft."

Azumi’s heels echo off into the dark, leaving Kuni curled around her plush blue chinchilla, silent tears streaking dirty cheeks.

Still, they were her saviours. Food. Shelter. New clothes.
 Just not love.


Time skips. She’s older, a teenager now, hairstyle different, stance wider. Back-alley brawls in neon-soaked slums, alien gangsters and augments snarling around her. Laser bursts light up the night as she vaults from a rubbish bin, flips, and plants a lavender kiridashi through some thug’s jugular. Fists and boots rain down, bodies scatter, until she stands alone—panting, knuckles bloody, catsuit ripped.

Aku steps out of shadow, immaculate as ever, applauding with that unnerving calm. "Excellent, excellent. Truly impressive, Kuni."

Beside him, the High Priestess’s eyes are dull, lips barely moving: “…Good.”
 A clap like thunder, utterly empty.

Kuni studies her shaking hands, the knife sticky with blood—hers and theirs. She shrugs off the pain and follows her benefactors into the gloom.

 

"It wasn’t fair, really," her voice echoes inside her own skull, muffled by the water closing over her face.

She remembers a sermon, a grand auditorium wreathed in shadows. The High Priestess stands on the dais, a queen draped in black, hands resting on a lacquered lectern, her voice velvet and venom:
 “…Lord Aku, he who grants all equal opportunity, asks only for your faith. In time, the world will be made whole by his hand.”

Applause crashes through the hall. Kuni sits near the front, quietly watching a row of girls—identical faces, wild variety in dress and manner.

Some in black, others in white, a few in bright, gaudy uniforms or coats.

All radiate power.

Emerald, gold, ice, magenta, azure, orange, pink—rainbow eyes, a range of facial expressions and auras.

She eavesdrops on the sisters’ murmured arguments:
 The gold-jacketed one snaps, "I can’t believe I have to be here."

 The pointed-haired girl and the one in pink bicker in hisses.

 Aoi, all scruffy hair and fury, mutters under her breath.

"Fucking hell...''

“Sister Aoi, language!" another one, with neatly parted bangs, reminiscent of the arches of a curtain, interjects.

“Shut the fuck up Ai... can't with you."

“Stop... guys. Stop. You're in front of mother." the one in a light gray, long sleeved collared dress says, her orange irises gleaming.


The High Priestess rises to her full height, eyes scanning the girls in front of her.

Without an air of debate, she marches up to one,  in the gold tracksuit.

The one in the pink parka snickers, then abruptly shuts up as her mother's gaze shifts to her.

She, the High Priestess, turns back to her scruffy haired- daughter: "Dear Aoi."

“I commend your outspoken nature."

"But there's a time and a place…”

 A slap cracks through the room, hand against Aoi’s cheek, blood spotting the floor.

 “..for everything.”

 The Priestess crosses her arms as her daughter falls to the floor, holding her bruised cheek, exhaling through a clenched jaw in pain. 

Kuni watches, silent, as the sisters recoil and look away, some with grimace, most with unconcealed disdain.

She feels their eyes brush over her like sandpaper, not recognition, but contempt.

She never saw them again as a group. 


After that, everything returned to normal.

Training continued. More clandestine fights; desert hideouts, glass-and-steel megacities, backwater caves. Threats to the regime vanished under her blade, bamboo spear, laser blasters or bare hands.

Aku, when he had time to meet her, would smile and hand her tiny gifts, a miniature plush chinchilla, now a keychain, a quiet token of approval.

It almost felt like she was the favoured child.

Almost.


"It changed when that happened."

The memory sharpens here: Kuni bleeding out in the alleys of Kokuyō no Seiiki, after a clash with the pink-eyed one. Lost the brawl, spectacularly. Her pride in tatters, her reputation broken. "It takes years to build a record. Seconds to destroy it."

She sought redemption.

She accepted her saviour’s challenge. Branding in the red-lit caverns, glyphs searing into her back, tied and prone as agony blossomed up her spine.

"Let it be known," The High Priestess’s voice thundered, "if you succeed in this test, you will be considered for the title of Heir to the Global Order."

So Kuni swallowed her pain. Endured the branding, the blood, the humiliation. All to please her tormentors.

She hated the pink-eyed one for showing her weakness.

 She hated herself more.



In the darkness, Kuni trudged through abyssal portals, touching columns, feeling her hands twist, bones warping, body no longer quite her own. The rift spat her out at a temple’s apex, ruin all around, tiles fractured, the pagoda swaying overhead.

She thought: "If I reclaim the yellow shard, maybe I can be redeemed."

That’s what they’d told her.

That if she juuust completed a few more missions she’d reclaim her status as contender for Leader of the World’s Order. 

Was that even true?


The final memory:
The High Priestess, her imposing stature looming at the end of a corridor, clapping in mock applause.
 Kuni, body corrupted, gait grotesque, stumbles toward her.

The High Priestess’s face flickers—first surprise, then, for a fleeting instant, fear.

"You're not fit for this… d—"

Kuni snarls, "What do you mean I’m not fit? I am fit. I am!"

The High Priestess regains her mask. "Settle down, K. I’ll find something for you to do."




"So, in the end, the High Priestess—the only constant in my shattered life, gave me this."

Azumi stands above her, that rare, gentle smile twisting the ruby glow of her eyes.

"Do you see this scene?"
 Kuni follows her gaze. Through the shimmer of the void, she sees a battered lab—a daughter of Aku, arm splinted and spirit broken, huddles at a clam-shaped table, three loyal dogs tending her wounds as she weeps softly in the gloom.

Her stomach knots.
 One of those daughters, the one called Ari.

Azumi’s hand unfurls, revealing a pulsing orb, black as midnight, like a black hole sucking in the crimson glow of the cavern.

 "K… take this," she whispers.

 Kuni hesitates, heart racing. "A… dark orb?"
 The High Priestess nods. "A coalesced soul. If all goes well, it will let you reach her through the rifts."

She touches it, feeling the cold power surge through her veins, something ancient and hungry.

"I don’t know what was in that orb. Only that the rifts obeyed me, and led me straight to her.”

 

”Ari, alone and vulnerable.”

 

”And now…"

 


In the present, Kuni’s world fades; water filling her lungs, vision narrowing, the memory bleeding into the cold.

 “Death is failure,” her mentor’s voice echoes, twisted, final and pitiless.



 A plush chinchilla, waterlogged and lost, sinking to the depths of the ocean, one last relic of childhood, vanishing in the abyss.

A final symbol of what was stolen, what could never be reclaimed.

And then, only silence, and cold, and the echo of a bedtime story:

"A tale is a tale, after all. Cherish what you have, and keep your loved ones close…"

In the end, only the endless hush of failure, and the shadow of what might have been, consumes Kuni. 

 

Chapter 44: CXLIV

Chapter Text









Amid the madness of the raging western ocean, a rotted dolphin and a battered, bat-winged seahorse surged through the churning water, pushing forward with the last vestiges of unnatural power.

CRACK.

A jagged metal beam, torn loose by the storm, smashed into the seahorse.

For a split second, everything slowed. The waves froze over. Debris levitated.

The seahorse flicked its ragged tail, desperate, and with one last act of devotion, it launched the protective bubble with the three unconscious dogs inside toward the dolphin.

The dolphin caught the sphere, its broken body trembling.

It turned in time to see the seahorse, motionless, drifting away into the blackness, claimed by the deep.

“I have to go on,” the dolphin thought, necrotic heart aching with something almost like hope.

It fused the two sapphire bubbles; Ari and the three dogs now cradled together in a single globe of azure, and powered forward, muscles tearing, wounds reopening, determined to breach the storm barrier and reach the far shore.

Debris, metal, bone, seaweed, raked its ruined flesh.
Lightning crackled above, turning the night into a flickering nightmare. Bolts of lightning reached out like hands of the damned, intent on breaking it's will to escape. 

Still, the dolphin pressed on.
Inside the bubble, Ari clung to the dogs, eyes wide with awe and guilt, remembering the pain she'd once inflicted on the very creature now carrying her to safety.

With a final, desperate leap, the dolphin rocketed from the thunderous section of sea, lightning striking its back, tearing another chunk of flesh free.

Yet it refused to fail.

It launched itself, Ari and the dogs, bubble and all, up and over the storm wall—through a sudden break in the clouds, into glittering moonlight and calmer waters.

The storm fell away behind them.

“There’s something over the horizon.”


The dolphin, spent, it's iron dissolving into the water, caught sight of something.

The silhouette of a massive container ship had materialised ahead on the horizon.

A last hope.

It's the final push.

“Here we go.” It thought, a small smile plastered on its beak.

“Freedom.”


And so, it sped toward the ship, waves parting almost as if it’s conscientious nature had allowed the forces of nature to sympathise with it’s plight.

The ship drew nearer, the dolphin's strength waning with every last undulation of it's tail. Chunks of flesh fell away from it, and it could feel it's tendons snapping.

"Finally." 

It approached the stern of the ship, the bubble still in tow. Weighing it's options inside it's cetacean brain, the dolphin decided that it would try one last thing.


“We’re here.”

“Go.”


With the last of its strength, it flung the fused bubble toward the vessel, the bubble popping as Ari and the dogs tumbled onto the vinyl deck.

Ari had barely any time to comprehend what was happening before she was halfway in the open air. 

“WUARGH…”

With the coordination of a drunken sailor, she landed on her feet, clutching the three archaeologist dogs to her chest.

“What..”

“Oh no..”

She turned in time to see the dolphin, floating just askew of the rear of the ship, battered beyond recognition.

It winked, a soft, knowing “click click”, and then rolled belly-up, staring at the moon as its spirit slipped quietly away.

Ari leaned over the ship’s rail, tears streaking her bloodied cheeks.

“I’m sorry. I never deserved your help.”

For a fleeting instant, she thought she could hear its voice, kind and forgiving, echo in her mind:

“You may have been complicit in my suffering, dear human. "

"I hold nothing against you. Take this chance. Change. Do good.”

As the container ship sailed on, oblivious to the small, strange rescue at its stern, Ari collapsed behind one of the containers, dogs in her lap, the loss and hope twining together in her chest.

She wept for the dolphin, for the lives she’d broken.

For the first time, ever in her life, probably, she felt.

Horrid, for everything she’d done.

What was ‘good’ in this case?

As her chest heaved up and down with her sobs, the 3 dogs curled up by her side, shielded by the loom of the container from the twilight, only one thought took up the remainder of the space she had left in her mind.

“I… need to… do better.”



 

The weary warrior awoke to the flicker of oil lamps, his whole body a mosaic of pain, his wrist throbbing with despair.

He lay on a wool mattress, gritty sand clinging to his hair, the dim, dusty chamber heavy with the scent of honey and herbs.

He grimaced, inspecting his bandaged wrist.

Half-detached, mangled, but not yet gone.

A three-eyed alien woman in a blue and gold dress approached, bearing a bowl of thick, glassy honey.

“Apologies for the wait, traveller from another land,” she said, gentle as a lullaby.

She peeled back his bandage and slathered the wound with the cool, viscous honey.

Jack winced, then exhaled—a strange, sweet aroma cut through the metallic tang of blood.

“What… is that?” he asked, voice raw.

“Devsha Nhirah. Pure Honey,” the healer replied. “It’s what we use for wounds. Attracts fewer bugs than the usual sort. And, well… it works wonders.”

Jack nodded, exhausted. “I’m grateful. And… how should I call you?”

She smiled, bowing her head. “Dinora. And you, outlander?”

He hesitated, then said softly, “Call me Jack.”

“Rest well, Jack,” Dinora murmured, then drifted toward the door, garments trailing behind her, flowy and radiant.

Jack glanced over—spying the three purple rams, curled up and snoring beside a cabinet.

Relief softened his face. He closed his eyes, grateful—if only for this one, small mercy.

A memory flared behind his eyelids.


  In a graveyard, he sits, bearded, jaded, in a loincloth, blade to his stomach.

A ghostly horseman eggs him on: “Do it.”

And his Ashi… the erased timeline’s Ashi, hair wild, clad in leaves as fluorescent and green as the forests she’d so come to have loved, tells him: “Don’t do it… just DON’T!”

He doesn’t listen.

He just sits there, stoic, already knowing how he’d end it all.

“SAMURAI JACK. DON’T… URGH. DON’T DO IT.”

“YOU MADE ME MORE THAN-”

Her plea gets cut off, as the horseman throws a massive slab onto her petite frame, pinning her down to the concrete of the dreary graveyard’s floor.

“-WHO I WAS.”

"The CHILDREN... THEY'RE SAFE! They didn't die...!" 

“The hope that you gave me… SAMURAI.”

“IT-IT SAVED MY LIFE.”

“YOU… SAVED MY LIFE.” She points at him, from deep underneath the suffocation of the slab's pressure. Slowly, his head rotates to face her, his cheeks wrinkled, his face weary, his legs showing the slightest trembles. 

Her words are his cue.

He lifts the blade from his abdomen… and brings it up to resist the horseman’s plunge.

And that was the moment… Ashi gave him back his spirit.

“I hope I can save her in this timeline,” he whispered to himself, staring up at the drifting dust.

“Even after all she’s done, I still believe… she’s good inside.”



On the outskirts of Bet-Azakh, the desert had turned from gold to harsh, pale white. Aku and Ashi stood at the base of the towering rock, a landmark to the city of the dunes, waiting for their ride in the cold, unsympathetic moonlight.

Ashi shivered, folding in on herself, trying to look smaller, more loyal, less threatening.

Aku’s gaze flicked over her, cold and clinical. Internally, he seethed: Weak. Too much sentiment. Not enough faith.

He clicked his tongue, voice low and hard. “I do not want apologies,” he said. “I only want action.”
He tapped out a message on his phone, ignoring her.

Ashi nodded, silent, her hair drooping.
“I have to make it up to him. I have to prove myself,” she thought, but the words rang hollow.

The desert wind howled, and the two of them stood apart, united only by failure and expectation.

“It’s here soon.” the deity mused.

Two bright lights, blinking regularly in red and blue, dawned upon them from the horizon. As they descended, the sand flew up around them in murky clouds of dust.

“It’s here.” Aku said, beckoning to Ashi, her trembling body pressed in by his mere presence.

“Come.”

A small jet in all black, engines on it’s sides, skids on it’s wheels had landed in front of them.

Once the dust clouds had settled, the doors opened, and a few officials in navy suits stepped out.

“Our Lord”, they bowed, “We’re here to take you to your next destination.”

Aku smiled softly as he maundered toward the plane, his daughter slinking behind him.

“Great. Excellent.”

Ashi could only listen. 

 




Sprawled across the battered dark couch, neon against the night sky leaking through the apartment blinds, Ami cackled as she idly scrolled by on her phone.
“Damn… this homestay’s comfy as fuck. I could scratch my ass here, do jack all, and no one would care.”
She snorted at her own joke, glancing over in the gloom.

Steam wafted out of the open door. Emerging from the shower, hair plastered to her face, a black shirt clinging to her gangly frame, simple pants hiding most of the nicks and bruises on her skin, was her undead sister.

Her expression? Pure poison.


“Holy fuck, look at that gaping hole. Patch that up, won’t you?” Ami recoiled, mockingly inhaling as she did a gesture, jesting at her sister’s decapitation.

Aoi’s thumb grazed the ichorous wound at her neck, and felt the flesh pulse under her touch… gelatinous, gloopy, muck-like.

So wrong.

Necrotic, yet clearly living.


Aoi flatly mumbled. “You’re a proper piece of work, aren’t you.”

Ami swung her feet up on the armrest, a show of dominance over the husk of a woman that was her sister.

“Says you. Bitch… don’t touch the furniture with that. Make sure you use different shampoo next time, corpse.”

 Aoi could feel her lower jaw smash into her upper teeth, a faint growl in her throat.

“Keep yapping and I’ll use your phone for target practice.”

Ami laughed, the sound of which almost pinned Aoi down with its raucousness.

“Don’t bite the hand that feeds, girl. Maybe I’ll rustle up some extra unborns for you tomorrow if you’re good.”

She sauntered toward the shower, flicking her wrist, still stained with streaks of dry blood at her sister, in a mock salute.

Aoi, desire to argue extinguished, collapsed.

Heaving herself up with massive effort, she slumped against the coffee table and stared up at the ceiling as the cold crept into her bones.


“Why the fuck am I under her care? What did I do in my last life… lose a bet with fate?”

Her vision swam.

“Maybe I was always rotten.”

Her inner spiral was interrupted by Ami’s phone buzzing—once, twice, again.

Aoi grumbled.

“Fucker won’t turn that shit off… what is this—”

Her eyes, as dark as empty space, dilated slightly.

“Huh…”

She squinted at the messages, reading aloud to herself…

“Ang Dinakila… business trip… Young Priestess… not on good terms…”

Aoi, every muscle tensing, spat the words out.


“It’s her.”

“Ashi.”


Her hands trembled as she placed the phone back, looking up into the shadows gathering in the ceiling’s corners.

“If I see her..”

Cold teeth gnashed against each other, blackened and razor sharp.


“…I don’t think I’ll hold back.”

Chapter 45: CXLV

Chapter Text

 

A private jet sliced through the stratosphere, a black needle stitching through a tapestry of winking constellations. Inside, the cabin was a pocket of silent luxury. Aku, reclining in a velvety seat, gazed out the window at the cosmos, his reflection a ghostly superimposition over the stars. A small, rod-like device on the table beside him cast a pale, holographic light, illuminating the face of the High Priestess, who sat in the sterile comfort of her own aircraft many a distance away.

Her voice, reverent as always, crackled through the live feed. “My Lord, you are quite the busy leader these days.”

Aku’s lips curled into a lazy, suave grin. “Of course, dear Azumi. Bet-Azakh was tough, but I managed to secure deals and make agreements with the local populace.” He gestured vaguely at the stars. “They’ll be part of this new world. Willingly.”

The High Priestess bowed her head slightly in the projection, a gesture of absolute deference. “I’m amazed by the amount of effort you put into this, my Lord. I’ve also arranged for the ‘leash’ to be sent your way.”

Aku’s fangs protruded almost imperceptibly. “Oh?” 

Azumi’s ruby eyes narrowed. “I’m sending the shard to you, as requested.”

Aku glanced back over his shoulder. In a seat behind his, the Young Priestess was slumped over, her pointed hairdo askew, her chest rising and falling in the gentle rhythm of exhausted sleep.

Turning back to the hologram, Aku’s voice dropped. “Phew. Had to check if she was listening. She isn’t.” 

“Perhaps I should have called you at a time that was… more convenient for you,” Azumi said, her mouth pursed with concern.

Aku shrugged, the motion impossibly smooth for his demonic frame. He stroked the beard of cool blue flame that coiled from his chin. “No, no, dear. This is the most convenient moment I’ve had in a while to talk to you.”

A soft, almost grateful smile, rarer than a blue moon touched the Priestess’s lips. “I.. see.”

“So,” Aku said, a light laugh rumbling in his chest, “who’s delivering the precious cargo?” 

“A representative of the Woolie race, my lord,” she replied, matter-of-factly.

Aku’s grin returned. “So Scaramouche backed out of it once again?”

The High Priestess’s expression soured, her gaze turning as dark as an overcast thundercloud. “I think you and I agree that his unreliability has become a liability. 

The joints in Aku’s hands made a sound like creaking floorboards as he flexed his claws. “Azumi… don’t you remember what I’ve said about the erased timeline?”

She nodded, her expression solemn. “Yes…” she nodded.

"He spun tales so long they almost sounded believable, that the Samurai had lost his holy sword and his spirit. Only for it to be a lie."

Aku recited the memory with the dramatic flair of a seasoned storyteller, his eyebrows of blue flame clapping with emphasis. “Elementary, my dear Azumi!”

He gazed wistfully out the window again, at the endless sea of stars.

“With our new philosophy of doing things, though…” He paused, letting the thought hang in the sterile air of the jet.

“There will be neither a need for me to kill the Samurai, nor a need to kill Scaramouche. My goals are above them.”

“They can’t comprehend it,” The Priestess agreed, her voice a low hum. “For totally different reasons, yet still similar in the end.”

Aku let out a small yawn. “Well, I’ll leave for now, dear Azumi. Much gratitude for your help.”

“With pleasure, my lord. Goodnight,” she replied, politely covering her own yawn.

“Goodnight.”

Aku pressed a button on the metal rod, and the holographic projection vanished. Alone again, he stared out at the cosmos, his reflection a six-horned silhouette against infinity.

“I should have done this strategy a long time ago, shouldn’t I,” he mused aloud.


 “My hubris killed me last time. Not the Woolies, not the Scotsman, not those frivolous ravers. No, not even the foolish Samurai nor… his lover.”

Something, not regret, but cold, analytical acceptance–passed through his eyes, ice cold, yet ironically passionate. 

“It was my fault.”

“This time… things will be different.”

In the back of the cabin, Ashi’s eyes were wide open. She hadn’t been asleep for the last few minutes. She kept her body slumped over the armrest, her breathing even, feigning slumber as the words echoed in her mind, a cold knot forming in her stomach.

“The… leash..” she thought, her world tilting on its axis.

“What does… Father mean by that…?”



Beep beep beep.

A sharp, searing heat jabbed at Aoi’s cheek. She let out a choked cry, her body lurching awake.

“AAARGH…”

“I said…” Ami’s voice was a blade in the darkness of the apartment. “WAKE UP.”

Aoi clutched her face, a fresh, angry dark mark already forming on her pale gray skin.

Ami knelt before her, a psychotic grin plastered on her face, the metallic click of a lighter extinguishing plunging the room back into soft, neon-filtered gloom.

“AHAHAHAAHAHAH!!! You’ve slept long enough. For seven years, probably,” Ami cackled, laughter bouncing around in Aoi’s hollow skull. 

Aoi, too weak and dreary to fight back, could only hiss. “Fucking hell bitch… WHAT WAS THAT FOR…”

“Don’t die on me, fuckface. In about a few mins we’ve got to go out,” Ami said, ignoring the question entirely.

Propping herself up on her trembling arms, her scruffy black fringe falling over her face, Aoi managed a defiant glare. “So?”

Ami closed the distance in an instant, her fingers tipping Aoi’s chin up, forcing their eyes to meet. “Refusal’s not an option, big, dead sister.”

Aoi’s defiance crumbled. She slumped down, her blackened eyes dull and lifeless. “Urgh…”

Ami cackled again, sauntering over to a wardrobe and pulling out a teal shirt and long dark pants, her blazer from the night before bunched in her other hand. “Shit man. Next time I can't sleep in my underwear coming here. E-877’s filled with bugs.” 

Aoi just stared at the shadowy ceiling, saying nothing.

Ami’s pink gaze locked onto her. “Get up, fucker.”

“Let me.. get energy back first...” Aoi’s voice was a dry rattle.

Ami rubbed circles on her brow, brushing a lock of hair from her forehead with an exaggerated sigh. “Fucking hell. Such a serial complainer. Should have left you dead as fuck.”

Aoi muttered under her breath, a curse lost to Ami’s ears.

The pink-eyed cambion, meanwhile, was already focused on her phone, a small smirk playing on her lips.

“Hm. Right, yes. So they’ve located that facility. Shit, why is it so, like on the fringes of E-877 though? Damn…”

Her gaze shifted to her pale, gaunt sister shuffling towards the closet, looking for anything to cover herself with. “Thought you wouldn’t need to stay warm. You’re half dead already!”

Aoi just glared, her black voids staring at Ami, a silent promise of violence in her clenched fist and the sharp gnashing of her teeth. Ami simply twisted her hand lazily and strolled to the apartment’s entrance.

“Alright. Come. Shit. Not at E-273 anymore so gotta make do with this…”

The disgruntled manananggal pulled on a gray hoodie, the fabric as dull and lifeless as her skin. 

They walked in silence through the air-conditioned marble halls, past the portraits of Aku—at inaugurations, receiving awards, shaking hands. His eyes seemed to follow them.

“This is just like that time…” Aoi whispered, her mind reeling back.

The memory was a decade old, maybe. Her and Ami, walking down a similar dark hallway in Aku’s central tower, past self-portraits and glass cabinets filled with trophies from subjugated worlds. They’d just been chewed out by their father, maybe from getting into a gang fight in public. Too long ago to remember. 

“My wish is for you two to live differently,” Aku had said, dismissing them.

Aoi, hands shoved in the pockets of her blue tracksuit, had a thousand-yard stare. "Let's be honest here, something WILL happen...."

Ami, beside her, swallowed the last bite of a savory pancake. "So? We still get his genes though. All good."

Aoi’s voice was a low hiss. "It's not all good. Do you just accept you're his daughter? Just like that?"

“Meh... I get to eat good stuff like this daily, 24/7 365," Ami had grinned, holding up the empty wrapper. "It's not all bad sis, like look at this hotteok. Good ass shit.”

Aoi had taken a different stairwell, away from her sister. "Yeah. Tell yourself that when he inevitably leaves you for dead.”

“When he inevitably leaves us... all for dead."

Ami’s expression had hardened as she watched her sister disappear. "Haaa. Aoi must be on her period today. As usual."

“Girl… your hair is greasy as fuck.”

Ami’s voice snapped Aoi back to the present. She said nothing, only pulling her hood further over her face.

They descended the massive escalator spiraling around the skyscraper, walking to not waste time dawdling on the machine’s slow pace. Below, the city’s pylons glowed with an intense luminosity, a carpet of neon draped over the buildings and nightlife below. 

“Damn. The faith here is pretty high,” Ami observed. “Feels like we should investigate it.”

“I didn’t consent,” Aoi muttered.

Ami shot her a wicked grin. “Do you have the cards?”

Aoi just hung her head.

“Of course not,” Ami cackled.

They reached the brightly lit lobby, and Ami walked up to a man in an official uniform, who was typing away single-handedly at his computer.

“Yo, dude. The valet guy’s here?”

The man simply looked up, nodded once, and returned to his screen.

“Yoohoo, Aoi!” Ami called.

Aoi gritted her teeth, pulling the collar of her hoodie up to hide the gaping, necrotic wound on her neck as she walked past, earning an odd, terrified look from the man at the desk.

Outside in the private car park, an indigo hovercar, steel grate gleaming in the dark, waited.

“Doo… doo doo…”

At the wheel sat a robot. His purple overcoat sat loosely on his metal frame, his black conical hat sat askew, and his teal-blue eyes lit up at the sight of the two.

“Heya Ami! Haven’t seen ya for so long, babe! What’s cooking, good-lookin'?” He reached out and shook her hand.

Ami brushed her bangs from her face.

“Yoooo… Scara, my dude. Nothing’s cooking at the moment. Glad you’re here in E-877. You know the deal we made right? Or..”

She leaned in, her brow furrowing, a wicked glare on her face.

“...has it been wiped from your memory?”

Scaramouche feigned indignation, tapping the wheel of the hovercar.

“Nah, don’t ya worry Ami. I don’t forget things easily! Especially not a deal with someone who treats me so well, babe!”

He beckoned for Ami to get in the front, then his pupils suddenly dilated at the sight of the freakishly gray woman in the hoodie.

His fingers scraped the welded gaps on his head. “Ami babe. Not cool! You didn’t tell me someone else was coming to play! What’s your name…?”

His pointer landed squarely at the zombie, his metal jaw unhinging in horror. 

Aoi froze, rigor mortis seeming to recapture her entire body.

Ami cackled. “Ah, nah. That’s just my friend. Siche. She’ll be tagging along with us today. We’ll need to go to the facility.”

“Absolutely, babes!” Scaramouche chirped. 

“The hell did she just call me…” Aoi thought, hanging her head as she slid into the back.


The hovercar sped out of the building, joining the highways that snaked between the obsidian-glass ziggurats and pyramid-like structures of E-877. The streets were luminous yet dull underneath the streetlights,  mostly empty save for a few hovercars and other vehicles at this time of the night. The silhouettes of cranes and building equipment loomed overhead, maintenance work on the train lines and skyscrapers adjacent having quieted down for the day. The neon GUI on Scaramouche’s car dashboard showed the time: 3:40am, casting a gentle teal glow over the car.

Aoi, boredom further hollowing her out, phased back into reality, listening to the conversation between her sister and the robot.

“Aku’s recent progress here has been the talk of the town! Literally, of course.”

“Of course,” Ami nodded, folding her arms. “But you and I know it’s all a facade, isn’t it?”

Scaramouche’s bombastic nature seemed to dim for a moment.

“Couldn’t agree more. By the way, Countess, didya know the new hotel might be the site of something big? I wouldn’t know though. It’s all under wraps for me.”

“He tries to hide things from us, but it’s so sloppily concealed, you know?” Ami said, staring out at the skyline.

“Anyone with a brain can see he’s just using it for his own gain.” She paused. “Though… you wouldn’t happen to know the truth of what he’s really doing, would you?”

“How curious you are! Doo doo ba bee, I’m just playing, babe,” Scaramouche sang, before his tone shifted. “Doo da doo… I don’t have all the details, woman, nor can I disclose even ten percent of what I know! But…”

He tapped the wheel, chip in his head straining to recall memory.
“Word on the neon grapevine is Lord A’s got half the city worshippin’ his six-horned mug. Can’t walk five paces without someone tryin’ to sell you Aku-branded toothpaste, know what I mean? But hey, that’s progress, baby! Progress and… big ol’ reality-breaking secrets. But don’t look at me, I’m just a humble robot with style for miles and a memory full of jazz, not classified data!”

“So I guess by this logic there should be a big Reality Breaker somewhere below the subterranean tunnels of this city?” Ami asked nonchalantly.

“Yes! Dee dee daa daa dooo…. I’m not so sure where it could be, babe. I may be a robot but there’s limits to what my memory banks can store!”

Ami scratched her nose, cross-legged on the seat, letting out a tiny hum. “Mmm… Yes. It’s a good thing I think I know where we’ll be anyway.”

“Oh right, Countess. Did they notify you about the specifics of this location?”

She shook her head, air-headedly tightening the pounamu around her wrist. “Nah. But I doubt I’ll really need the instructions anyway. Last time I requested, they gave it to me at a busy ass bar instead of just dropping a message on AkuTalk. Was scared I’d get anthrax…” She let out a small laugh.

Scaramouche burst out laughing. “Doo doo doo ba… HAHAHAHA! How old fashioned. The world’s progressing fast, and they’re still acting like deliverymen!”

“Less traceable than electronic means,” Ami said with a smirk. “So I understand why they’d do it.”

In the backseat, all Aoi could muster up was mental static, only able to catch fleeting syllables of whatever the two were talking about.
“Urgh..” She muttered, as softly as she could.
“Fuck my life.”

“Oh, babes,” Scaramouche piped up, “looks like we’re almost here!”

The paved roads and bright lights gave way to overgrown tropical darkness. Hills and mountain ranges, once illuminated, faded into shadow as the glow of the main city slowly trailed off behind them.

The hovercar pulled up to an abandoned facility, half-collapsed, a few lights flickering weakly inside.

“We’re here! Payment please! Doo~ doo doo~”

Ami’s phone screen illuminated her face in the dim light. “Mmm… 800 credits as you requested. Oh, plus 50 as a tip.”

Aoi stepped out, her feet crunching on rocks and gravel, saying nothing.

Scaramouche waved jauntily. “Daaa daa deee~... thank you! Catch ya later, Ami and her weird friend!”

The hovercar sped off, leaving them in the oppressive silence of the jungle.

Ami’s gaze locked onto Aoi’s. “Aha…”

Aoi pulled her hoodie’s collar down from her mouth. “Blah…. Fuck…”

Ami beckoned with a single finger. “Come.”

“I believe I can fix you.”


 

Chapter 46: CXLVI

Chapter Text

 

 



The prince of a long fallen nation woke in the quiet haze of Bet Azakh, the desert air heavy with the scent of wool and sand.
His wrist, still half-ruined, throbbed under layers of cloth, sticky with the translucent sheen of Devsha Nhirah. A purple ram snuffled at his side, finding comfort in his presence, clearly. 

The three-eyed healer, Dinora, hovered in the lamp-lit room, all lavender glow and careful smiles. “Morning, outlander.”

Jack tried to bow his head, apologetic as ever despite his injury. “Sorry to trouble you all. I just—”

Rashid strolled in, posture as boisterous and bombastic as usual, Haw’telah the fox at his heels, their faces set with cautious optimism.

“Hey man, looks like you’re on the mend,” Rashid said, inspecting Jack’s bandaged wrist.

Dinora nodded. “He’ll be fine, just right soon. Devsha Nhirah does wonders.”

Haw’telah, peach fur dusted with sand, chimed in. “It’s a relic from the old gods, you know. Our pantheon left these things behind, back before the world turned to dust.”

Jack’s brow furrowed. “Old pantheon?”

Haw’telah nodded solemnly. “Lat, Mana, Uzzah… gods of our forebears. But when they left us, the land dried up, chaos swept in—Set, Lotan, Alu, other devils and monsters.”

Dinora jumped in, her voice like oasis water.

“Everything changed when… they descended.”

Jack tensed, sucking in air through his teeth as he tried to bear the pain on his wrist. “They?”

Haw’telah rubbed his furry chin, the thoughts barely just escaping between his ears.
“Lord Aku and the tall lady. What’s her name…”



“High Priestess, Azumi.” Dinora gently completed the sentence. 

Rashid piped up. “Sheikha Azumi, right. They stomped out the chaos. The monsters. Gave us peace. After that, folk started listening. Aku cared, or at least, looked like he did. What choice did we have?”

“Everything we had been suffering from since the end of our ruling pantheon’s days… just disappeared like grains of sand in the wind.”

Haw’telah said, hands behind his back as if silently praying for deities long gone to answer them once again.

“He is helping them. Yet, his name is pure evil. There is no altruism that courses through his veins.”   
Jack listened, silent, mind churning.

Aku was a hero.

The name and entire idea of that tasted sour.

“He’s not what he seems,” Jack thought.

Yet, he simply nodded.

“Oh, the little rams seem fond of you.” The three-eyed woman gushed, hands clasped in adoration. 

Jack grinned sheepishly, watching the trio of purple fluffballs bouncing into the soft silk of Dinora’s lap. 

Rashid shook his head in disbelief. “They're your bros now, right?”

The samurai just nodded, a faint smile flickering as the others left.

Alone, Jack settled into the wool mattress, the rams snacking on a hay like material in the dusty chamber.


“There’s good in people,” he mused.

“But not in their new god.”

He closed his eyes, letting exhaustion pull him under, one hand resting on a ram’s warm back.



Aku glanced at the time, 5:20am, his plane rolling to a stop on the floodlit tarmac. He stifled a yawn, stretching like a bored housecat.

“Good to be here,” he mused.

He roused Ashi from her slumped slumber. “Wake up, dear. We’ve arrived.”

She shuffled after him, bags in tow, away from the plane through the gleam of the aerobridge, past biometric scanners flashing green in confirmation of their identities and the hollow echo of an empty terminal. Stores were empty at this early hour, save for a few straggler travellers, or early arrivals. Some were on their devices, some were sleeping near their bags, and some were relaxing, sipping a drink or munching on a snack at some of the open stores, a normal sight to see at a place like this.

At the baggage claim, the demon handed her the bags with a soft grin.

“Sit over there, would you? I need to sort our ride.”

Ashi nodded, tiredly but dutifully, plopping onto a round bench in the corner, bags at her feet.

Out on the edge of the terminal, Aku met a hulking creature in a suit. His fringe was styled neatly into curls, his nose dangling over his mouth like the swaying vines of a tree, his own business suit neatly ironed.

“Lazzor, I presume? Leader of the woolies?” Aku started. 

The Woolie nodded, chipped teeth showing. “Yes, Lord Aku.”

He produced a small transparent capsule from his pocket, about the size of a golf ball, and inside was that shard, shimmering in hues of emerald and mint in the early dawn of the airport terminal.

“What happened to it?”
Aku frowned, almost jerking back.
“What are those fractures? On it?”

Lazzor’s nose twitched nervously.

“No idea. The scientists said it was stable when shipped. No mishandling, no shocks… it just cracked.”

Aku scratched a horn, waved it off, and transferred credits to Lazzor’s account.

“Whatever, ah. Whatever. Thanks, here’s your credits. Pleasure doing business with you, Lazzor!”

Lazzor, without a word, just waved and turned away, walking behind the terminal and disappearing behind the concrete walls. One moment he’d been there, and the next, he wasn’t. 

Ping!
A notification slid itself onto Ashi’s screen.

“Come outside. Our ride’s here.”

A black hovercar slid to the curb, driven by a crocodile in a lurid yellow blazer and sunglasses, as Ashi hauled her dreary form out of the airport. “Mabuhay! Waya’s the name. Ang Ina herself sent me, headed for the Asenso mall opening, right?”

The demon simply nodded, as his daughter slunk back to the hovercar, clutching her face with exhaustion.

“Yes. Yes we do.”

Ashi just coughed, fighting the urge to drop dead.

“Father… the bags are already in the back seat ”

Waya raised his eyebrows in concern, his jaws hinging open in slight disappointment.

“Oh, sorry yo. I forgot to help you with the bags..”

With strands of hair caked her face, the Young Priestess, spirit and life drained from her body, climbed into the backseat, feebly raising her hand in a bid to show she was okay.

“No… no. It’s okay. It’s alright..”

Aku opened the front door, almost gloating.
“I’ve raised her well, haven’t I?”
Waya, nodding, as the two closed their doors. “Yes, you have!”

The engine of the car started and without a hitch, they were speeding out into the highways of E-877 away from the terminal.

As Aku continued his idle chatter with Waya, with Ashi almost passed out in the backseat, one thing nagged at his mind.

Why was the shard… cracked?

“Is it unstable?”

“That can’t be.”

“The capsule I requested should have had it neutralised and relatively safe for mortals to handle.”

“So why is it.. Breaking?”  




In a dingy room, under the swaying lights, stray plants grew out of cracks in the corners of the walls of the abandoned building. Shadows, long and distended, loomed about.
The doors to the halls inside the building were on their last hinges, leaky ceilings dripped long stagnant water, and  the floors were dusty, caked in rubble and stone.

Two figures, who would have otherwise been shrouded in darkness, stayed illuminated in the cover of the handphone’s light, as if their mere presence was in conflict with the darkness about them.


Aoi retched over a rusted cart, spitting bile into a rusted bucket. “BLEKH… Enough, please…”

Ami just laughed. “Alright, alright. No more weird shit, today.”

Sudden crash.

Aoi’s head spun 180 degrees.
She backpedaled, gait like a rabid dog to face her sister, teeth bared.

Ami grinned, arms wiggling, beckoning her sister to come at her. “Don’t push me. I could break you for fun.”

“I could beat you up right here right now and leave you an emaciated bag of bones.”

“Am I just your toy?” The manananggal responded, vocal cords as frayed as her sanity. 

Ami booped her nose, snickering at her own cleverness “Basically. But you’re not a threat, so chill.”

 Aoi trembled, but the fight was draining out of her. Once again.

Ami looked around the ruined facility, reminiscing about old schemes. “Just like E-273. Same old shit. Silly Samurai…”

Trying to steady herself, Aoi blurted out, her voice hoarse and as ragged as her breathing.

“What… was that yellow thing you put in my eye?”

“That? Hahaha…”

She paced around the room, shrugging, a grin on her face as she watched Aoi squirm. 
“It’s yours, babe, but sure. Memory shard. Your past life. Your death, your soul, all of it. The cryptids were using it for their machine.”

Aoi’s memories hit her like a wave. Again.


A cold mountain hollow, black as pitch. Seven little girls, her and her six sisters, shivering in white, horned masks, the only warmth the press of each other’s bodies.

The High Priestess’s voice, cutting through the darkness... “You exist to hate the Samurai. To kill for Aku. Remember it.”
Endless days and nights, pain layered on pain. Wood and metal cracked across their backs for every misstep. Bleeding knees and split knuckles, sobbing with a cloth stuffed in their mouths so their mother wouldn’t hear their weakness.
Their lives were an unbroken circle: training, pain, darkness, the constant threat of being left behind if they showed a sliver of mercy or doubt.

They grew, but the world only got colder. Released into the wild, their mother’s commands echoing in their skulls.

“No agency. No thoughts of your own. Only the mission.”

“The Samurai is a pollutant to the beautiful world Aku has created.”

Aoi remembered fighting in the old temple. Stalking the bearded man in shadows, their weapons ready, the smell of incense and rot mixing in her nose.
One by one, her sisters fell, sometimes to Jack’s blade, sometimes to traps, sometimes to sheer exhaustion and fear. Aoi remembered watching the youngest—Ami—bleed out, her life spilling over the temple floor, left behind as the others retreated.
Rage and grief twisted inside her, but she had no words for it; she was never allowed to mourn.

She remembered the snowy forest, her own death. The samurai, wild-eyed, shirtless, wielding nothing but broken weapons and desperation.
She dodged, she fought, but fate had other plans. A spear, flying at random, punched through her side.
She collapsed against a hollowed tree, vision dimming, the cold leeching away her pain as blood dripped onto the snow.
Her last thought wasn’t vengeance, but a single, childish wish: I wish I’d been loved, not just used.

Then, the void.
Her soul drifted, watching as each sister’s light went out. Only Ashi left, stubborn and different, the one who turned from enemy to something else entirely.

Aoi watched, powerless, as Ashi’s fate was erased, their lives forgotten by the world itself.

All that remained was the echo of pain, and the sense that, no matter what they’d become in this new world, their suffering had been for nothing.





“So we were… monsters.”

Ami shrugged. “Depends how you see it. No one’s born bad.”

“But you’re making this world worse.”

A finger pointed straight in the direction of the pink-eyed psychopath. 

Ami, hand on heart, mocked her sister, tone condescending.

“Oh? Why didn’t you fight the monsters when you were alive? All you did was scream into the jungle and eat villagers.”

Aoi seethed, a low rumble expelling itself from her throat. If her blood could boil, it would have evaporated through her pores long ago.

  The countess brushed her off. “That’s done. Morality doesn’t matter here, not anymore.”


“It should matter. This world is… suffering. You’re part of it.” Aoi tried to object, her entire aura weakening with her resolve.

Her tormentor snickered. “Yeah, and? I love you though.”

She gestured deeper into the facility.

“Get up. We’ve got work to do. There’s more underneath this city.”

“Fucking hell… fine.” 

Resigned, Aoi heaved off the decaying chair, and stumbled after her.

Chapter 47: CXLVII

Chapter Text

 

He blinked awake, the harsh desert sunlight slicing through the round window. Warm wind licked at his face, peppering the coarse skin with the finest grains of sand the wilds could give to him.
He groaned, hair matted across his brow, and gingerly flexed his right wrist.
Pain still pulsed through it, but... strangely, it moved. As if the tendons had seemingly reconnected overnight, and the joint had snapped in place without his doing.

It worked.

“I’m… alright,” Jack murmured, relief and disbelief mixing.

His gaze drifted to where the purple rams had been snuggled the night before.
Empty.

Brows knitting, he swept hair from his eyes.

“Gone? Where have you  wandered off to…?”

A heavy, familiar guilt pricked at him.

He remembered the corrupted sheep, the temple on Bhumanagara’s forest edge. That cochlea-shaped machine, all twisted vines and memory-shredding energy, and the visions.

Aku, Ashi—his Ashi—every friend from the past giving him nothing but indifference, or worse, disdain for failing to stop Aku.

Flexing his wrist again, Jack muttered, “Before Aku’s shadow swallows the world, I have to—”

A sudden racket: chanting, prayer, frantic bleating. The crowd’s panic bled through the thick canyon walls.

He stumbled to the stone door, still a bit groggy, hand on his trusty sword hilt. “What is going on out there—?”

A river of villagers, human and alien—rushed past, the sand swirling around their feet. In the swirling haze, three hulking, beastly forms materialised, phasing through the wind and panic.

Jack’s breath caught. “What… happened to you?”

Flashes of the erased timeline burned in his mind: the last time he’d seen these rams, Aku had corrupted them, twisted them into monsters. In his rage, Jack had killed them—only realising too late what they truly were.

Not again. Not this… please.

A villager shrieked, “Get OUT OF THERE! They’ll trample you!”

Jack didn’t move. He locked eyes with the monstrous rams as they roared in unison.



The creatures charged. He drew his sword reluctantly, despair shadowing his resolve. "I'm sorry."

Leaping aside, Jack evaded their fierce assault, clashing his katana between twisted horns. Struggling fiercely with only one fully functional arm, he was battered repeatedly, pain radiating from fresh wounds.

He barely dodged the first ram, sword catching on its horn, while another charged, almost impaling his side. Pain shot up his left arm—he gritted his teeth, refusing to curse. A third ram’s hot, acidic breath scorched his wounded wrist as he fought, only half his strength left.

He glanced at the fleeing crowd, then back at the all too monstrous beasts.

“I can’t kill you… why must you become this, again…?” Tears threatened to spill.

Rashid leapt down a mound, spinning mini-tornadoes from his fingers. “Hey! We’ve got your back, bro!”

Haw’telah, the fox, darted beneath the ram’s hooves. “One must walk before they run, you know!” He tripped the beast, sending it crashing down.

Dinora, serene as always, pressed her fingers together. Her third eye glowed. “No matter who you are, Bet-Azakh welcomes you.”

A wall of sand rose, halting one beast. Jack smiled—hope, even in a world scorched by darkness.

He finished the job: katana flashed, slicing clean through. A ram disintegrated before the awe-struck crowd. Another, cut down as Rashid was cornered in a fruit stall. The last, lunging for him, met his blade head-on.

The crowd erupted in wild cheers, villagers pressing in with gifts—fruit, bread, trinkets. Jack, chest heaving, sheathed his sword.

“No. No, please. I can’t accept…”

Dinora pressed close. “You saved us, outlander!”

Rashid struck a pose, laughter booming. “We ALL did!”

 Jack, eyes hollow, stopped them with an outstretched hand. “No.”

Rashid’s face fell. “Hey dude, you alright?”

Haw’telah’s ears drooped. “You can’t just leave…”

Dinora’s robes wilted under the tension. “Are you sure, stranger?”

Jack’s voice wavered. “I’ve troubled you all enough. Thank you, but…”

Rashid tried to argue. Haw’telah pleaded. The crowd murmured, some disdainful, some speaking pitifully, and some struggling to comprehend what happened.

But Jack shook his head.

“It’s my fault. All of this… because I couldn’t stop Aku. I’m sorry.”

He left, sword at his hip, figure swallowed by the dunes—leaving only a heavy silence and an uneasy crowd behind.




 

Ami scrolled through diagrams on her phone, it's light a beacon in the all-consuming catacombs. “Supposed to be here, right?”

The manananggal shot her a withering look, eyeing the crumbling ceiling, debris powdering their forms in the shroud of the abandoned facility’s darkness. “You don’t even know where we’re going?”

Ami pocketed her phone, brushing dust off her mint shirt. “Shush. Quiet.”

They crept down broken steps, hands tracing the rusted railings, debris crunching underfoot. Ami’s gaze flicked to a shadowy corner behind a battered bookcase. “Yeah, should be here…”

Aoi sighed. “ Slow as molasses…”

Pretending she hadn’t heard her sister, Ami found some scrawled letters—half eroded, half gibberish.

“Trifid… key seven…” She started punching symbols into her phone, muttering aimless insults under her breath.

Aoi folded her arms, fangs bared. “Fucking hell, do you ever hurry?”

Ami ignored her, eyes darting up to a crooked vent. “Hey… Aoi…”

 “What now—?”
The response was cut short.

Ami, grinning, had nicked Aoi’s head off and chucked it up into the vent. “Have a look, would ya? AHAHAHAAHAH?”

"WHAT THE HELL!" Aoi shrieked, voice muffled from inside the vent.

The headless body tried to kick her, but Ami batted it away, indifference on her face.

“Stop fucking around, bonehead. See anything up there?”

Aoi’s screeches faded. Her headless form shimmied up, latching to the vent and disappearing into the rectangular passageway.

“...come.” The response was oddly muted for what just had transpired between them.

Ami followed, slithering up the wall and into the vent. “If you try anything dodgy, I swear I’ll—”
Crawling through the passageway to where her sister was, Ami gasped.

Below stretched a hidden labyrinth of metal-lined tunnels beneath the facility.

"Holy shit," Ami whispered.

They peered down a crack in the wall. The sight was a different world below, an entire abandoned room, a steel-walled chamber linked to crossroads of passageways, like a spiderweb of tunnels disappearing into darkness.

“...gino ko…” were the only words Aoi could summon. 





A sleek black hovercar pulled up to a building, faces adorned with grids of sleek glass windows.
Ashi all but fell out, bags in hand, Aku following behind.

“Much gratitude for the ride, Waya,” Aku nodded to the crocodile chauffeur. “Always a pleasure.”

“Anytime, Ang Dinakila!” Waya beamed, then sped off into the early city traffic.

Aku inhaled the scent of fresh-cut plants and polished marble as they entered the building.
He breathed deeply, surveying the quiet pre-dawn streets of E-877 with satisfaction, rays of orange rising, dimming the lights within the buildings and network of glass walkways that connected each towering skyscraper to the next superstructure.

 “It’s peaceful, before the crowds hit. The quiet before the storm.”

He glanced back at Ashi, slumped and exhausted. “Let me take those bags.”

She mumbled thanks, barely holding herself upright.

At reception, a startled human in a navy suit stammered, “Lord Aku! The Young Priestess! Your room’s ready, as requested by Bu Pendeta herself.”

Aku’s lips curled. “Ah, Azumi. Goes by more names than I can count.”

Ashi trailed him, eyes hollow. “Father…?”

He smiled, almost tender. “Come on. Floor 40, heaps of refreshments up there.”

They walked wide, opulent corridors lined with sapphire carpets and golden foliage.

As they reached the lift, Aku’s expression soured.

He wouldn’t let his beloved Ashi see his worry, but the crack in the green shard nagged at him.

Yet another thing bugged his mind.
A potential setback below the city.

During the drive and banter with Waya, with Ashi sleeping in the back, he’d taken out his phone as it had buzzed with a notification

Aku’s usually suave grin had faded.

“Power supply fluctuations: faith unstable below E-877.”

Crossing his legs and adjusting his horns, he’d sighed as he put his phone away. Maintaining his polished and professional facade he’d sighed and continued to chat away with Waya, having no intention of letting those few words weigh on him.


He’d kept his mask up, but the doubt lingered.

In the lift, Ashi hesitated. “Father, if something’s wrong—let me help.”

Aku weighed it, stroking his blue-flame beard. As the lift dinged open, he finally sighed.

“I’ll tell you upstairs, Ashi. ”

Chapter 48: CXLVIII

Chapter Text




The ding of a lift reverberated throughout the lobby of the building’s floor.
A silky, artificial voice greeted Aku by name as he and Ashi stepped into the Executive Suite. Wall-to-wall windows framed a chaotic neon sprawl, clouds swirling thick around the tower’s heights, muting the lights below. A massive onyx table dominated the centre of the room; its minimalist chairs looked comically undersized for Aku’s hulking frame, but he fit without trouble, an intimidation flex built right into the architecture.

Aku’s face radiated contentment. “Ah, well… all that’s settled is settled…” he said, sliding his phone into his front pocket.
Ashi followed, moving like her bones were half-mud. “Urgh…”

They paused at a window. Mist pressed close to the glass, swirling around them at this altitude, blotting out the city’s skyline.
Aku smiled to himself. “The legacy I’ve built will continue.”
Ashi, voice barely more than a whisper, tried to catch his attention. “Father…”

Aku didn’t miss a beat, gesturing to a corridor. “No problem, dear heart. Down the hall, to the left. There’s a room with refreshments, drinks, a change of clothes. Shower creams, makeup kits—all yours.”
Ashi folded over her arms on the table. “No, no… father, it’s about what happened. In the lift.”

He set the suitcases down with a faint thud, tilting his head at her. “Hm?”

She hesitated, but pressed on. “What were you so… worried about?”

Aku paused. For a beat, only the hum of the city’s pylons far below filled the silence.

“Oh?” He smiled, half wistful, half teasing. “And why would you be so curious, dear daughter?” He leaned on the table, hand propping up his head.

Ashi stared down at the polished surface. “I just… want to know. If it’s possible…”

Aku tweezed at his blue-flame beard, the firelight casting shifting shadows. “Hm, yes. You are my daughter. I should tell you, shouldn’t I?”

Ashi seemed to shrink even smaller in her seat.

He huffed. “Well, do you want to hear it or not?”

She trembled, struggling to speak. “I—”

He bared his fangs, thunder cracking in his tone. “An answer. Please.”

Ashi flinched. “Y-yes… father…”

Aku’s expression softened. “Great.”

He turned, gazing at the fog-veiled glass, as if seeking counsel from the clouds. His gnarled fingers tapped absentmindedly on the table. “I’ll be perfectly honest… This is not something you have to solve, mind you. I’m just thinking about how my operations might be affected if…supposedly something happened deep below this great city of Bagong Ningning.”

Ashi leaned forward, chewing on her words. “So…”

He shrugged, a sly smile spreading. “I mean, it’s honesty. You asked, you agreed, so I gave you the truth.”

She pressed again. “What do you mean by… something happening deep below?”

He whistled, filing his nails with a talon. “Oh, you know… there’s a machine deep underground, somewhere beneath this city. It’s the lifeblood—powers the grid, water, comms. Sometimes that becomes a big target for anyone with ambitions to rival me.”

A flicker of memory crossed his face.

“Could be my own creation, after all.”

Ashi twiddled her fingers, anxiety winding tighter. “So… what can I do to help? What must I do to ensure the stability and sanctity of our glorious world?”

Aku tapped at his phone, distracted. “Father…?” she prompted.

He snapped back. “Oh! Oh, right. Yes.”

He grinned. “Nothing. I advise you to do nothing.”

Ashi stared, stunned. “What…? Do nothing?”

He sighed, stepping away from the table. “Realistically, dear…” He leaned over her, looming like a mantis over its prey. “What can you and I do in this moment, hmm?”

She had no answer.

“The opening of the Asenso Hotel is in six or seven hours.” He glanced at his phone. “The tunnels below are labyrinthine. Not even I know every entrance. So many hidden in plain sight—it would take days to learn the whole system.”

He shrugged. “So pragmatically, there’s not much even I can do right now.”

She tried to protest, but he cut her off, smirking. “Well, I’m sure your mother will have it handled, dear.”

Ashi felt something inside her drop.

He wasn’t calling her by her title anymore.

There was a long, brittle silence.
“Oh!” came a sudden exclamation as Aku excused himself, striding to the exit.
“Excuse me, dear. Forgot I have to check on something.”

And thus, Ashi was left alone in the immaculate suite, the hush broken only by distant city noise. She slumped into her seat. “Urgh…”
“How can I get him to like me again…?”
“How can I reclaim that title…my destiny?”

She pulled out her device, flicked through news, forums, anything. “Nothing. Nothing about E-877. Nothing on what Father said…”
“It’s hopeless.”

Just as she was about to give up, something caught her eye; a small, obscure link at the end of a forum thread. Her eyes widened. She shut her phone off instantly.

“It has to be that.”

She hurried out, dark cloak swirling behind her, and called the lift.


A short while later, Aku returned to the boardroom, raising a fiery eyebrow. “Hm? She’s not here?”

He smirked, a low chuckle rolling out. “I knew it.”
“Knowing her, she made her choice.”
He eased into one of the oversized chairs, nudging a decorative plant pot aside.
“At least now I have the room to myself.”

He fished a half-opaque capsule from his pocket—the emerald memory shard, shot through with cracks.

“I still wonder if it’ll play out exactly like I want it to…” he murmured.
“...but hopefully I’ll get to use this. Much like I did with Aki.”

“The truth is, pragmatism wins out over empathy. So far, Ashi is making the same mistake the one with the orange irises did.”

He rolled the cracked shard in his palm, tongue brushing his fangs. “Still… why is it like this?”

 


On the ground floor, the lift chimed again.

Ashi emerged into the nearly empty reception hall. The clerk in navy dozed in his chair, while a few gray-suited figures—human, alien, animal, chatted idly, gossip drifting through the cool newly refurbished building. Ashi scanned the lobby, then slipped outside.

She wove through the city: alleyways and bridges, busy sidewalks and empty underpasses, the misty afternoon painting everything a dirty gold, and at last stopped at a shady stretch lined with old shophouses, dwarfed by modern towers with ziggurat bases. Some windows glowed, some stayed dark.

She checked her phone, compared it to the manhole cover at her feet. “The dots… aligned… yes.”
She unlatched a tiny cover, placed her thumb on the reader. The manhole slid open, revealing rungs stretching into blackness.

Despite her internal unease, the current Young Priestess climbed down, the cover closing overhead. “I have to stop whatever threatens Father’s rule down below.”


 

Deep below, Ami and Aoi squeezed out of a narrow crawlspace into the maze of the city catacombs.
Pipes dripped, old work lights flickered. The walls were plastered with peeling multilingual signage, some defaced, ominous statements  like Aku is Watching” coupled with crudely sprayed 6 horned insignia, others old rebel slogans. 

They passed what looked like the remains of old unused rusted security gates, bunkers, abandoned labs and racks of obsolete servers.

Ami smacked her lips, snapping her fingers. “Woo, scary. Hey, keep your head on your body, the journey isn’t done yet.”

Aoi yanked her hoodie tighter. “If you won’t bite your tongue I’ll do it for you…”

Ami cackled. “Sheesh, what a threat.”

She rummaged in her pocket and without warning, tossed a fuzzy bud at Aoi.

Aoi recoiled, almost staggering back into some old racks. “What the fuck, bitch…!”

Ami cackled again.

“Not a bomb, not cyanide, not gonna hurt your undead ass, idiot.”

Trepidation the only thing coursing through her veins, Aoi slowly picked it up, her blackened eyes straining in the dark. “Then what is it?”

“Mic. Stick it in your ear or clip it to your collar.”

Ami slid one into her own ear. “Try it.”

Aoi clipped it on, then switched to the ear method.

“Can you hear me now~?” Ami’s voice rang clear, painfully close. 

She grimaced, her blackened lips puckering as her youngest septuplet’s laugh continued to pound the internals of her skull.

“Ergh… you’re giving me tinnitus.”

“Good! That’s what I like to hear.”

Ami’s voice was too cheerful. “Now, you wanna split up or nah? I’ll go right, you go left or straight. That cool?”

Aoi eyed her. “Yes… but you still haven’t said what we need to find…”

Ami’s pink eyes gleamed in the dim. “Well, initially I wanted to find the big cochlea machine thingy under the city but…”

She shrugged. “Frankly, I don’t know where it is.”

Aoi almost breathed fire, gnashing her blackened teeth. “Are you FUCKING kidding me?”

Ami just shrugged, already turning away. “Hey, that’s why I’m here, to learn something new.”

 “Fine. Let’s split up then.” It almost hurt Aoi in more ways than one to say this, and yet she still went along with it anyway

They parted, Ami slipping down a sloped corridor, Aoi marching into a straight-shot tunnel, each swallowed by the shadows of the city’s secrets.

 

Chapter 49: CXLIX

Chapter Text

The disgraced prince trudged through the desert, hot winds scouring his skin raw, whipping sand into his eyes as his geta sank into the blazing sands.

“Huff… huff,” Jack panted heavily, his vision swimming.

How long have I been walking? he thought desperately.

His eyes momentarily lit up.

Ahead shimmered an oasis, a tantalising promise of relief. Palm fronds swayed gently, water glittering like liquid silver.

Jack squinted, his mind straightening itself out again with the suspicion gnawing at him. "This had better not be a mirage…” he murmured, quickening his pace.

Memories clawed at his mind with every painful step. Escaping Bhumanagara’s persecution, the horrific visions within that abandoned temple, the twisted, corrupted rams he had saved… only to lose again.

The sting of betrayal when Ashi chose Aku's side.

The kindness shown to him by Rashid, Dinora, and Haw’telah, their faces haunted him—he had left them to protect them from further harm.

“I'm no saviour,” he whispered bitterly, the sun mercilessly beating down on his shoulders. His vision blurred, and a sudden, cold dread twisted his gut.

He looked at his right wrist, still bandaged. It’s mobility was 

“You failed.”

The voice was his own, twisted and cruel.

Jack froze. “What… no… not again…”

A dark, purplish spectre emerged before him, floating like a grotesque shadow.



The samurai’s copy sneered, his eyes wild and mocking.

"You think kindness solves everything. You think passivity is the key to prosperity. That was when Aku decided you were no threat.”

Jack flinched away. “That's not… no. Life is trials—”

His reflection, long since thought vanquished, placed a finger on it’s lips, it’s hatred for the good parts of his soul clearly visible on his warped visage.

Mad Jack leaned closer, voice dripping with venom. “You didn’t expect it to be THIS hard, did you? How idealistic… foolish.” With a dark chuckle, the phantom vanished into the scorching air.

Jack stood paralysed, haunted by his twisted reflection's words. The desert stretched endlessly around him, barren and indifferent. He wanted to scream, but he had no voice left. Only emptiness.

“This is my eternity,” he whispered, staggering onwards as the cruel mirage of the oasis faded further away.

He clenched his fists, jaw tight.

Anger surged momentarily, replaced swiftly by hollow resignation.

He sank into the hot sand, almost letting the heat consume him and the remaining fragments of hope left in his heart. 

A caravan approached through heat waves, distorted yet unmistakably real.

“Who’s there…”

The warrior’s heart suddenly quickened as shadowy, ominous figures emerged—clad in dark metallic suits, armed and imposing.

Instinctively, his hand went to his sword. “Must… defend myself…” he coughed, but his knees buckled beneath him.

Two figures, winged silhouettes, approached carefully.

“He's hurt…” murmured a female voice softly.

“How long has he been trekking under the hot sun?” asked a male voice.

The female voice spoke urgently, “Hand me the water flask.”

“Do you think La Duchesse will mind if we bring a traveler along?”

The second mysterious figure shook it’s head.
“No. I don’t think she will, as long as she cares that we complete our mission to the western region.”

Their voice lowered, as the hot sun beat down upon all 3 mercilessly.
“Besides, I don’t think she needs to know.”

“She doesn’t truly value people’s lives.”

The first figure’s tone shook with half amusement, waving a dismissive hand gesture as they tried to defuse the situation.

“Alright, alright, haha., Haul him back to the Chariot. Right this instant.” 

Cool water touched Jack’s cracked lips. He sputtered, coughing, consciousness trickling back slowly.

He blinked, and his heart jolted.

The two figures briefly removed their masks, revealing all too familiar insectoid faces, blue and purple hair shining vividly beneath antennae.

“Prince Astor… Princess Verbena…?” Jack gasped in astonishment.


Beneath E-877, Ashi navigated winding, claustrophobic sewer passages, graffiti of monstrous eyes and hateful messages leering from the walls.

Her cloak snagged on rusty protrusions as she trudged deeper into darkness, frustration bubbling.

“Where is this area…” she hissed, glancing down at snapshots on her phone. “No coverage down here…”

She slid down another slippery incline, the tunnel growing colder, darker, more labyrinthine.

“This place reeks,” Ashi muttered, disgusted, forcing herself forward.


At last, she encountered a barricade, metal mesh blocking her way.


The Young Priestess reached out to pluck the mesh wiring separating her and the inky darkness below. There was no warning or anything else to signal that trespassers were disallowed, it was only a sieve into the unknown below.

Ashi sighed, immediately gazing at the tributary of the water flowing below. Her eyes caught sight of a little crack between the mesh and the water’s flow that she could slip under..

“Yeah… I’ll have to do that.”

With a pinch of her nose, she prepared to dive.

“3… 2… 1…”

Splash.

She plunged reluctantly into the foul waters beneath, emerging with a gasp on the other side, cloak shredded further.

“I need to find it,” she murmured determinedly, following eerie, dim blue lights guiding her deeper into tunnels which now resembled fortified bunkers, foreboding and oppressive. The air down here was almost smoggy, resembling the fog coalescing around mountains, yet it was hot and stuffy, possibly due to a lack of proper circulation and ventilation.

“This has to lead to the catacombs.”

She sprinted forward, her footsteps swallowed by shadows.

In another part of the underground maze, Aoi moved cautiously through decrepit halls, flashlight flickering across rotting cardboard, abandoned jail cells, and crumbling shelves. The stench of decay would have been overpowering, that is, if Aoi was “alive.”

She paused, looking down. A small click escaped her lips as she shook her decapitated head.

A tiny skeleton with dark stains around it lay there, underneath the graffiti of a bleached, half collapsed wall.

A small pang of sympathy tugged at her as she placed rubble over it. “Poor rat—”

“ARRGHH!” A sudden ear-splitting feedback from her earpiece made her leap backward in shock.

Ami’s voice crackled mockingly. “Frequency down here’s shit, ahahaha—”

“BWISIT KA… Shut the fuck up!” Aoi raged…

The space of musty air almost turned into a vacuum.

It all went silent.

Aoi included.

“Wait… shh…” Aoi breathed.

Ami said nothing, she too, seemingly understood the situation, despite her usually boisterous nature. 

Two silhouettes approached, their flashlights cutting through the gloom. A tall figure with curly hair accompanied by a shorter, stout figure with pantherine features and a cowboy hat.

“I heard someone scream,” the male figure muttered.

The female's voice trembled. “Every time we’re here, I feel watched.”

“It’s Lord Aku’s fault…” the male grumbled.

“We double as scientists and bodyguards. We’ll never leave unless Aku permits.”

The female sighed deeply. “I don’t like it here, Huntor.”

“Me neither, Lula,” Huntor growled, his voice weary.

If Aoi’s heart could hammer whilst hiding, it would have.

“The tunnels shift constantly," Lula said uneasily. "It’s the Breaker’s effect. Punong Angelica said she’d notify Demongo, but nothing changes.”

She tensed up, her silhouette swiveling it’s head on the wall… and continued.

“Lord Aku’s trying to quantify faith, yet we all here know it’s against nature.”


A light shone into the darkness of the room where the manananggal hid. “Nothing here.”

Lula’s voice rang out, perplexity colouring her tone. “You sure?”

“Nah. I ain’t see nobody…” was the moody response.


“We need to inform them that this problem can’t be solved by just making us wear improved hazmat suits.” The panther continued, footsteps echoing around the room.

“It’s something to do with the actual fabric of reality itself.”

Lula agreed. “I.. yes. It’s true.”

Huntor shook his head: “The problem with Lord Aku is that he tries to quantify faith…”

“He’s putting numbers into an abstract concept.”

“And…” 

“We have company.”

Aoi’s stomach lurched as Huntor advanced, kicking aside crates.

“Show yourself, trespasser!” he snarled, grabbing her hoodie.

He found himself pulling back from the horror he’d illuminated, as he and Lula’s faces turned absolutely pale.

As pale as Aoi herself.

The husk raised her face slowly, tendrils twisting from her gaping neck wound, eyes dark voids of rage. Her voice dripped venomous finality as she slowly wiped her matted fringe of scruffy hair from her face.

Through a gritted grin, blackened shark-like teeth gnashing together, she spoke. 

“I’m the last thing you two subterranean subhuman wastes of life will ever see.”

Chapter Text



“Ngh…” 

The ronin stirred awake, feeling the gentle sway of the caravan beneath him.

He groaned softly, vision blurred by the bright desert sun piercing through the window. Sitting upright, he noticed his gi had loosened and quickly tightened the obi around his waist.

The desert stretched endlessly outside, dunes rolling past as cliffs and sparse shrubbery disappeared behind them. He took a deep breath, feeling the warmth seep into his bones.

“Wow…” Jack murmured, disoriented yet somehow comforted by the tranquil motion.

“He’s awake,” Astor remarked with a curious wiggle of his antenna, his wings draping elegantly around him.

Verbina, her attention fixed on the caravan’s digital control panel, spoke without turning, "The fuel situation’s okay. We have enough in the tank and spare canisters to reach E-939."

Jack furrowed his brow internally, pondering these unfamiliar terms. "E-939...? What are all these names...?"

Astor smiled warmly, his blue fuzz waving softly with the breeze. “Dear oh dear, where might you be from?” he asked, examining Jack's worn and disheveled appearance.

Jack hesitated, unsure how to explain his origins. Finally, he replied softly, “I’m from a land far, far away.”

The lepidopteroid being chuckled softly, extending his tarsus in a gesture of camaraderie. "Same here, we’re also outlanders."

Verbina merely clicked her tongue, too preoccupied with the caravan’s navigation.

Astor offered an apologetic smile. "She’s focused on our journey, apologies."

Jack shook his head lightly, managing a slight smile. "It’s alright."

Memories flooded Jack’s mind of Astor and Verbina's homeland, Chrystallis—and the turmoil they'd faced in a timeline now erased.

His heart warmed at seeing familiar allies once again, yet his smile soon faded as darker thoughts crept in: Ami's ruthless grin, Ari’s stubbornness, and the painful image of Ashi aiming a gun at him.

Astor interrupted his reverie gently, offering a glass jar filled with colorful, writhing grubs. "Want some? Excellent nourishment."

The samurai grimaced inwardly, politely declining, "Ah, no thank you."

Astor shrugged, munching happily. Curiosity overtook him as he asked, "By the way, how did you know our names right away?"

Jack hesitated before answering with a knowing smile, "Because I just know."

Before Astor could respond, the caravan jolted sharply over rough terrain. Jack nearly hit the ceiling, gripping the edge of his seat.

"Sorry!" Verbina called from the controls, steering deftly through bumps. Astor laughed boisterously, teasing his sister's driving, prompting playful banter between the siblings.

Jack smiled quietly, enjoying their lively exchange. Eventually, curiosity got the better of him. "Where exactly are we headed again?"

Astor straightened, eyes serious. "La Cité des Étoiles, a city shaped by Seigneur Aku. It's said to float among the heavens."

Their new companion’s eyes widened.

Astor continued, unfazed by Jack’s sudden tensing up.


“Most of them are secretive, except for one. Young Priestess Ashi. Many across the Global Order’s reach know her, they know her as Lord Aku and La Pretresse’s aide.”


“The reason why the other 6 of them do not appear in public too much is that they’ve essentially fallen out of favour with Aku.”



“Even the Young Priestess herself, Ashi, is not particularly well-known across even those cities that he has brought under his rule. I suspect Lord Aku and La Pretresse deliberately make her keep a semi-low profile till she is ready to inherit the Global Order’s rule.”


Flapping his wings without much thought, he continued recanting his story to an ally he’d long forgotten.
“Anyway, La Duchesse does not talk about herself much. We’ve only seen her in person twice, and both times she had shadow operatives around her.”

“We don’t think she’s particularly approachable, nor friendly, and we think she sees us as expendable. But it’s kind of the truth, really. Just the tools of the trade in this world.”



"We were bought from Chrystallis," said Astor grimly, tone of voice dropping along with his feelers.

Jack just stared at his hand, still bandaged. “Oh.. no…”
More evidence of his failure to win. Their fates mirroring that of the previous timeline.
Nothing had changed.

And it was then that Astor dropped a bombshell that made Jack further flinch in his seat.

"Our people wronged Aku somehow, and we became trophies of his victory. But we're fortunate; La Duchesse treats us semi-decently."

 He fell silent at what Astor had said, absorbing the weight of their revelation. The caravan sped onward, carrying him deeper into uncertainty. He shook his head, grief and shame interwoven, and watched the dunes pass as the world sped on.

Beneath E-877, chaos erupted in the catacombs. Aoi clashed violently with the two scientists, Huntor and Lula, her monstrous strength overpowering their desperate defenses. Their screams echoed, walls crumbling under the force of her blows.

The wispy-haired scientist, her gait already off balance from a couple of blows, screamed as Aoi hurled her across the cracked tile floor. “ARGH…”

Huntor, his pantherine jaw slick with blood, lunged to help, only to be met with a boot to the face.

The crumbling catacomb echoed with blows and curses, dust shaking loose from every battered wall.

Aoi’s voice was a serrated taunt: “Never seen this before, have you?” Her head spun on her neck, her grin visceral, barely hinged as her own jaw fought the urge to dislocate itself. 

Huntor fought back, but Aoi’s strength was uncanny for her gauntness.

She kneed him into a pile of refuse, then donkey-kicked Lula straight through a hole in the ceiling, showering the room in old plaster.

Lula managed a strangled gasp, sprawled and stunned as she struggled to pry herself off the beams of the old passageways.

“WHAT the HELL IS THIS?”

Aoi’s only answer was a middle finger and a quiet, venomous mutter.
“Didn’t you come down to hell with me?”

Catching sight of the other scientist-turned-vulnerable prey, she roared, a sickening war cry that even she forgot she could do, despite the damage to her vocal cords.

The felid gasped.

Even for his species, he hadn’t any time to react.

A knee met Huntor’s bulky torso, causing the felid hybrid to fall into litter and trash strewn across the catacombs.

A groan, a mumble, a collapse.

Huntor was out, face flat, paws splayed out on the floor. His colleague sat against the wall, iron dripping from her mouth.

“Easy pickings…”

Aoi stalked away, brushing dust and insects from her hoodie. “Shitty passageways… Shitty city… Shitty faith.”

“Ah shit where’s the little mic thing..” 

She felt for the mic bud in her ear, and like an unwanted jolt of electricity, Ami’s voice came crackling through, like an unwanted pest. . “Yooooo… heard the commotion. Had to mute it—didn’t want to blow my cover."

\"Whatever," Aoi spat, annoyed. "Did you find what you were after?"

"Not yet. These tunnels are a mess." Ami almost sang this as if she was somehow enjoying everything about this situation.

Her jaw almost dropped onto the floor as she ground her teeth against each other, tendrils flaring from the wound in her neck. “Dickface… you came here essentially without a plan and dragged me along.”

“Oh sure, of course. I did. Yeah. Ahaha.” was the nonchalant response.

Aoi sighed. Of course this psycho couldn’t have cared about her well being. She was a zombie, after all. Worth nothing to her unempathetic sister.

“I’ll just head back the way I came… I’ll come to you.”

Ami let out a strained laugh on the other end. “Sure. Don’t eat my uterus though.’’

Aoi sighed, turning back, but froze as green eyes gleamed through the darkness.

"Who’s there?" The Young Priestess commanded, stepping forward menacingly.

“Show yourself!”

“Wait.” 

Aoi smirked darkly, head rotating unnaturally. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

Ami’s voice whispered urgently in her ear, "I recognize that voice..."

"Of course," Aoi laughed quietly, stretching out her arms, confidence instantly infused into her posture once again.

"She doesn’t recognise me, though. She’s terrified of what I’ve become."



In the towering executive suite of E-877, Aku lounged lazily, inspecting a cracked green shard closely.

"Why is it cracked?" he pondered aloud, frustrated by the unexplained damage.

“Lazzor informed me of it… but it shouldn’t have been cracked. No one should have touched it should they have listened to my orders.”

The dictator paused for a moment, taking the time to place the capsule with Ashi’s green shard back into his pocket.

“Ah.. well.” “The Asenso hotel’s grand opening is about 4 hours from now…”

His thoughts drifted to a daughter he'd coldly discarded after her defiance. His gaze darkened momentarily, then reset back to it’s usual suave coolness.



“Ah… Aki.”

“Followed rules through the chaos, spunky yet diligent.”

“Till she wasn’t.”

“I had to bubble her, and take away her memories with that shard.”

“She wasn’t even worthy of death.”


"If I did that to her," he mused, eyes narrowing thoughtfully, "I can certainly do the same to Ashi."

“Even with my grip on this earth, dissent still exists.”

“Dissent so raucous and disorderly that I had to suppress people before they completely fell for it.” 

A soft ding signaled a visitor, breaking his reverie. A nervous human server entered, placing a pizza on the table.

The young man found himself adjusting his bowtie, looking flustered, hot and bothered as he bowed, a feeble attempt to show respect. “I heard you called, Ang Dinakila…”

Aku examined it, delighted. "Extra thick," he grinned, handing the server extra credits generously. "Just how I like it."

As the server hurriedly left, Aku settled back into his chair, fingers tapping contemplatively. He smiled, confident and content in his dominion over the world he'd crafted.

 

“After all… this is how one should lead.” 


At last, a devil was becoming a deity, after all. 

Chapter 51: CLI

Chapter Text



Dust drifted in lazy spirals from the fractured ceilings, the catacombs pressing in like a suffocating tomb around Ashi. Every shadow seemed to curl with intent. Every breath she drew came shallow, harsh. Her lip trembled, green irises wide and glimmering in the sickly torchlight.

“Who… no. What are you?” she managed, voice barely more than a whisper.

Across the uneven stone, Aoi, a living spectre, a gaunt, sickly reflection of Ashi herself stood. Tall, mangled, misshapen, body contorted into shapes that only the branches of trees could manage.

The laugh she let loose bounced, warped, off the narrow, oppressive walls.

“You haven’t seen me in a while…”

Her words hung there, heavy, as she stalked forward, feet cracking rubble beneath her

. “...and that’s what you ask me?”

Her tone dipped, mocking, as she cracked her knuckles, ichorous jaws bared.. “What am I?

Ashi’s pulse thudded in her ears.

Her breaths came quicker, watching this monstrous parody of her septuplet advance.

“Yes… what… who are YOU… YOU…”

Her feet fumbled backwards, scraping across broken stones as panic sparked through her.

Snap. 

A pale fist rocketed towards her face. Instinct screamed, and Ashi barely twisted aside, the punch whistling past her ear with a force that promised ruin. She pinned her body along the wall, desperate to stay out of reach.

“URGH…” she gasped, asbestos making it’s way into her lungs. 

CRASH. The stone just behind her splintered.

Another blow; Ashi felt air burst from her lungs, knees folding as she deflected Aoi’s attack with the last of her nerve. “That punch—!”

KLONK. This time, her knee connected with Aoi’s jaw, a shockwave reverberating up her own leg.

Gritting her teeth, Ashi snatched the handle of her kusarigama, unfurling the wicked length of chain. It rattled, the sound too loud, echoing off the vaults of the underworld as if mocking her. Clouds of dust mushroomed with each movement, making the world hazier, smaller.

Aoi’s low laugh turned manic, verging on unhinged.

“Aha… HAHAHAAH!… This is fun!”

With a guttural rumble, she closed the gap, catching the kusarigama chain in her fist, and with inhuman strength whipped Ashi toward her, until their faces nearly touched. Ashi saw up close the bloodless pallor of her sister’s skin, the black, yawning pupils swimming with hatred.

“I’ve been itching to deal with you for a while,” Aoi whispered, breath misting in front of them.

Ashi’s mouth hung open. “You—”

She didn’t finish—Aoi’s uppercut smashed beneath her chin, snapping her head back with such force her vision sparked white.

The world spun; suddenly, they were locked in a vicious tug of war over the blade, chains biting into flesh, knuckles whitening.

“URGH… Got to get it b—”

Ashi ducked desperately, a chunk of rubble clattering off the back of her head as Aoi’s other hand arced overhead, fingers curled around sharp debris. On this broken ground, Aoi balanced like a predator, legs splayed, centre low, perfectly at ease in chaos.

“More where that came from,” Aoi sneered.

Desperate, Ashi scooped up a rusted metal tin from the muck and flung it, hard, at Aoi’s face. “You’re fast…”

Instead of dodging, Aoi cackled, and then, in one grotesque motion, she detached her own head, the sinews and blackened slime trailing from her neck as the skull tumbled free.
“100 points for that throw, bitch.”

Horror rooted Ashi in place. “This isn’t—!”

She lashed out, foot connecting with Aoi’s flying jaw, sending the ghastly head ricocheting off the low ceiling. All the while, Aoi’s body staggered forward blindly, arms outstretched, closing in on her.

“Oh no…!” Ashi spun, hands braced, heart juddering in her chest. She slipped sideways, avoiding the flailing, headless form, cold dread clinging to her skin. For a moment, it felt like a nightmare, something half-remembered from some cursed fever dream.

She looked up at her opponent… and couldn’t even shriek at what she saw.

 Aoi’s head, propelled by some awful force, tumbled back to its body and reattached with a sick squelch.

She stood, arms crossed, smugness carved into every sunken feature. “Like my new moves, bitch?”

Ashi shook her head, bile rising, and hurled her kusarigama again. “Trespassing is disallowed…!”

The chains wrapped, tight and rattling, around Aoi’s torso. “Ah. You keep doing the same thin—”

PEW.

A burst of brilliant light lanced through the gloom—a laser blast, ricocheting wildly down the corridor.

Ashi, gasping, panted heavily as her cloak ripped, the laser’s afterglow dying down. She flicked her torch, breath fogging in the cold as she searched for Aoi. Black essence spattered the walls, the ceilings, coating unused racks and half-rotted furniture. Aoi’s limp, headless body slumped to the ground, still caught in the tangle of the kusarigama.

Ashi trembled, voice thin. “That should be it. She’s done. That was not natural.”

The silence grew heavier, as if the catacombs themselves were holding their breath. Then—a low rumble.

Ashi’s head whipped around.

“...?”

From every direction, faint cackling trickled in, growing, twisting, until it reverberated into a chorus of shrieks. She gasped, eyes wide.

She swept her flashlight across the shadows—and saw it. Black ichor, oozing and seething, drew itself together from floor, wall, and shattered detritus, coalescing into the grotesque outline of a head.

Aoi’s head.

Fangs bared, biting through the kusarigama chains in a spray of spectral slime. “Ahahahaa… AHAAHAHAHAHA!”

The head joined its body again, the manananggal whole and awful once more. Aoi drifted closer, mockery in every inch. She pointed two fingers at her own blackened eyes, then at Ashi’s frozen, terrified face.

“Do you like what you see?” she taunted, her movements unnaturally snapping her back into commanding position.

“Do you like what Father did to me?”

Ashi’s scream ripped down the corridor, echoing into the catacombs’ bones. 

 


 

The self-powered caravan came to a halt on the lip of a windswept desert plain, sun blazing in a merciless blue sky, the rays glancing off the black windowpanes of the carriage. It was well past four o’clock, shadows slanting and heat rolling in ripples across the sand.

Astor and Verbena clambered out first, dark suits shimmering with a faint sheen of dust and stray scales, the both of them folding their arms and throwing dramatic silhouettes against the gold and ochre earth. For a moment, they held a stiff, heroic pose—then broke, laughter shattering the moment’s pretence.

“Naaaah… Ahhahahaa, we look awkward,” Astor admitted, antennae waggling, his wings twitching in the heat.

Jack, climbing out after them, couldn’t help but smile. His eyes were hollowed by fatigue, gi undone, but seeing their easy camaraderie tugged some warmth back into his bones. “Haha…”

I’m glad to see that they’re still being themselves, Jack thought, gazing past them to the battered outpost up ahead.

Astor and Verbena checked the battered watches strapped to their wrists, squinting into the harsh light. “Let’s see… how many credits do we have…”

Astor frowned. “Right. The Duchess hasn’t given us our latest payment yet.”

Verbena rolled her eyes, wings splaying out to shade her brother, her irritation evident. “Ah… what the hell.”

A beat of silence, the pair sharing a glance and a whispered exchange, private, conspiratorial. Jack drifted a few paces away, drawn to the sight ahead.

It looked like a petrol station from hell. The “Prosperitrol” sign above the outpost flickered with gaudy, garish neon, half the letters burnt out, the others twitching erratically. Around the lot sprawled a junkyard’s worth of car parts, fuel cells, busted panels, the detritus of forgotten machines littered among the sand.

Jack arched an eyebrow, sweat trickling down his neck. “This does not… look like your average petrol station.”

Astor shrugged, face unreadable, his antennae gently twitching. “Of course it isn’t.”

He turned to his sister, the muscles in her face taut.. “Yeah. Prosperitrol is a brand founded by Seigneur Aku, of course. It’s part of the bigger project—E4OA.”

They started toward the battered, box-like storefront, Jack trailing behind, cautious, hand drifting toward the hilt of his sword. “What does E Four Zero A mean?” he asked quietly.

Astor gestured broadly, stepping over bits of litter. “Well, E4OA stands for Energy for One and All. It’s basically a corporate project that aims to provide affordable energy for everyone on this planet, for all types of energy. Coal, gas, electricity, nuclear, even twin-ion—you name it, E4OA provides it. Or aims to, for the entire population.” 

“I… I see.”  The prince nodded, swallowing a rising sense of unease.

The door slid open with a weary electronic chime, and they stepped inside. Fumes laced with the scent of oil, vehicle parts and something faintly sweet and chemical hit them like an oncoming car. Rows of battered shelves were crammed with lubricants, batteries, odd parts for trucks and bikes, and an array of grime-caked odds and ends. At the left side of the building, two Siamese cat-like beings lounged behind a greasy counter, twirling their pencil-thin moustaches with exquisite boredom.

Jack felt a chill pass through him, despite the air conditioning’s blessed coolness. He muttered under his breath, “I and Am…”

Flashback: He remembered the twins well. I and Am, the Siamese bounty hunter brothers who spoke as one, in a perpetual rhyme. Their coordination was so uncanny that a rumour persisted: they shared a single mind. In the erased future, they and a cadre of other bounty hunters had plotted to claim Jack’s head—disarming him, using mines, laying traps. Princess Mira had seen through their schemes and, in the end, Jack had bested them—leaving I and Am sprawled in the snow, defeated but never quite gone for good.

Of course, they exist here too, he thought.

The white, wiry Siamese twiddled his whiskers and announced in his hollow monotone, “We’ve got company, Am.”

The black one replied, eyes narrowed, “I think so too, I.”

They launched into their disquieting chant:

“We’re both here—”

 “—always near.”

Jack winced, a prickle of dread threading up his spine. “Oh no. They are trouble.”

Astor nodded, shooting Verbena a look. “We still have to just select the right energy cell… it’ll help our carriage drive long distances at breakneck speeds.”

Verbena busied herself with a blue glowing tube—a potential battery upgrade, the anode and cathodes crackling with promise. “Maybe this could—”

 before she could finish, the twins advanced, grinning wide enough to show far too many teeth.


 “You three look tired.”
 “You all seem wired.”

They slithered forward, their grins never wavering, the light catching in their wide, glassy eyes. Jack’s hand tightened around his sword.

Verbena muttered, “Are they messing with us?”

Astor, cool as ever, wearily spoke. “Forget it. Can you help us or not?”


 “Fuel or charge?”

 “Your needs are large.”

Astor sighed. “Both, actually. Our vehicle’s battery is dying. We need an upgrade. You got the K-14 class or…?”

I spoke, voice flat as a desert’s surface. “Batteries charged, tires repaired.”

“Desert roads, always snared.” his brother completed, giving them an odd cadence and rhythm.

Verbena crossed her arms, giving them a deadpan look. “Great customer service.”

  “Desert’s tough on everyone.”

 “Hard to run, nowhere to run.” Am completed his brother’s sentence

Without warning, the lighter Siamese drew a single, oddly-shaped cell from a battered metal rack, his tail twitching with anticipation. “Here… take this.”

Am shrugged, “We promise you, nothing is amiss.”

Verbena, uneasy, studied the cell, wings fluttering. “Well? Looks legit, right?” She glanced to Astor, uncertainty plain in her eyes.

Astor leaned close, whispering something Jack couldn’t quite catch. Jack felt his own tension building—he’d seen too many cons, too many traps in places like this.

Verbena stiffened, masking her apprehension behind a polite smile. “We would not like this… thank you.” She set the offered cell aside and picked a standard one from the shelf. “We’ll take this instead.”

The temperature in the room seemed to drop.

I’s eyes went black, voice growing sharper: “Why would there not be a deal?”

Am hissed, “It is quite the steal.”


 “For you three—” said I, waiting for his brother’s completion.

   “—it could be straight up free.”

Their gazes turned hollow, the hair on Astor and Verbena’s antennae standing on end. Their voices merged into one, a cold undertone slicing through the fake hospitality.

“You do not appreciate our gestures of benevolence, don’t you?”

Jack stepped between them, voice flat but steel behind it. “Enough. Do not threaten them.”

The flash of claws, a glint of malice.

SCHINK.

Jack’s katana slid from its scabbard in one swift motion, catching the cat’s blow mid-air. Sparks danced between blade and claw. “Wow,” Jack muttered through clenched teeth.

I, unfazed as ever, let a bit of his cockiness slip. “They seem like they want conflict—”

 “—and they think it’s a trick.” Am drawled.

Jack glared, hair wild, sweat prickling on his brow. “You were the ones that swung first when they wanted to choose something else…!”

I’s face twisted in mock sadness. “Dear oh dear. What a shame.”

Am shrugged, eyes cold. “They only have themselves to blame.”

Astor and Verbena braced themselves, tarsii balled into fists, wings spreading for balance. “Hey. We know what this is. This is just your plan to rip us off,” Astor called, defiance shining through.

They’d both realised now... it wasn’t about the price, or the battery.
No.
It may have been a plot for something more sinister.

I and Am’s faces darkened, expressions slipping into something truly predatory.

The paler Siamese had a wild grin splitting his face as he broke his claws from Jack’s blade. “If you three want conflict—”

Am leapt into the air, claws flashing, voice cold as the desert “—you will receive it.”

The fight was on.


 

She tore through the darkness, her footsteps slapping against slick stone, the echo swallowed by the tangled warren of tunnels. Blood streaked her cheek, mixing with the dust that fell from the crumbling ceilings. Her hair, so often carefully shaped to a point, a badge of order—was now a mess, strands sticking to sweat and grime. Each ragged breath felt like glass, her chest heaving as she sprinted, not daring to glance behind. The tunnels seemed to close in, the air thick with memories and fear, the dim torchlight wobbling in her trembling grip.

“What… was that. WHAT WAS THAT.” The words tumbled out, wild and breathless, lost to the labyrinth.

She barrelled through corridor after corridor, sometimes shoving herself through half-collapsed archways or battering down doors barely clinging to their hinges, leaving a chaotic trail of scuff marks and frantic chalk symbols. The farther she went, the more desperate she became—fueled by a primal urge to survive, to put as much distance between herself and the thing as possible.

“What has she become… What has she…!” Ashi sobbed as she shouldered past a sagging bulkhead, her arm thrown up to shield her nose and mouth from the billowing dust. She barely saw the mosaic of faded graffiti racing past her—crude, hateful insults in half a dozen languages, six-horned eyes peering from the walls, each corner dripping with a sense of watchfulness.

This isn’t right. It can’t be.

It was her. Aoi.

The words pounded in her skull with every ragged heartbeat. Her bloodshot eyes darted frantically over every branching path, always calculating how far Aoi might be behind, whether she’d emerge from some shadowy alcove to drag Ashi back into that nightmare.

What did she mean… when she said… Father did that to her…! That accusation stung even as it frightened her; it was as if a pit had opened up inside, swallowing any certainty she still clung to.

Her black cloak snapped behind her as she sprinted on, desperation twisting her limbs as she clawed for distance, anything to get further away from whatever that was.

. “I need… out. I NEED… TO RELAX.” The words were almost hysterical, but she couldn’t stop. Not for a second. 

I need ANSWERS…!


In the rarefied calm of his glass-walled lobby, the demon stood surveying his domain. His tie was freshly knotted, lapels sharp, and his gaze swept over the city outside the lobby—windows gleaming, streets alive, a city that beat with the pulse of his own ambition.

A raucous crowd had gathered outside. Reporters, dignitaries, families with children perched on shoulders, some waving signs or chanting his name. Camera flashes exploded in the press, casting the tall demon’s shadow across the marble floors. He could see their excitement—some faces hopeful, some reverent, some merely curious.

He barely feigned interest. His smile was a mask, practiced and easy, while inside he felt only mild amusement. “Well,” he murmured to himself, “the crowd is here. And they are surely happy to see me.”

He moved through the security cordon with effortless grace, raising a twisted palm in casual acknowledgement. Behind the desk, his receptionist bowed deeply as he submitted his entry log—formality never lost on Aku, even in this new age of prosperity.

Cacophony swelled around him as he stepped toward the doors. Questions fired off like bullets:

“Lord Aku! Sign my autograph!”

“Will you be the one to officially cut the red tape of the Asenso Hotel & Mall?”

“My son’s job was saved thanks to your reforms!”

“Your personal kindness kept my family afloat!”

Aku nodded and smiled, arms folded with just the right measure of composure. One of his black-suited aides swept in, collecting his bag and passing it off to the hover-limousine idling outside. Aku lingered a moment, drinking in the spectacle, before sliding into the car. The crowd roared. Flashbulbs went off, and the city itself seemed to shimmer with anticipation.

He stroked his blue beard, sinking back into the plush seat as the limousine sped away, trailing behind a current of gratitude and devotion.

“Well. I couldn’t find Ashi. She disappeared to nowhere as usual. It’s hilarious,” he mused, the smirk never quite reaching his eyes.

“She follows the rules explicitly when I tell her to loosen up.”

“The one time I want her to follow the rules to a tee… she bites. Hook, line and sinker.”

He watched the skyline flick past, Bagong Liwanag’s high-rises, bustling highways, the swirl of commerce and power he’d wrought with his own hands.

“Oh, dear Ashi,” he murmured, the words almost affectionate, almost regretful. “Oh, my dear Ashi.”


Aoi stood in silence, staring at the emptiness left in her sister’s wake. Her eyes were dead, ringed with exhaustion and a cruel kind of amusement. The graffiti, mould, and unknown stains that decorated the catacomb walls were just background noise.

“Ha…” she muttered, a dry sound that echoed off the damp stone.

“She just ran. Fucking coward, as usual.” There was no triumph in her voice, only resignation, maybe even a flicker of disappointment.

A faint rustle pulled her from her thoughts. She zipped up her black hoodie, arms folded, and waited.

From the far end of the shadowy hallway, a familiar, annoyingly chipper voice rang out, bouncing off the stone with the confidence of someone who had never truly been afraid. “Hellloooooo~~?”

Aoi’s lip curled. The sight of her pink-eyed, irrepressibly smug little sister set her teeth on edge. “Hello.”

Ami sauntered closer, giving Aoi a once-over with mock concern. “You’re not glad to see me.”

Aoi just stared. “You think?”

Ami cleared her throat, pretending not to notice the blood spatters, or the bruises shadowing Aoi’s jaw. “Yeah, uh… didn’t find anything. Most of my passageways were dead ends. This place is like haunted… man. It’s like I can’t find my way out for shit—places that I thought I’d gone to felt like they came up over and over again. And yeah, I didn’t find any other secret tunnels or cubby holes in the meantime.”

Aoi scoffed, arms tightening. “Ha…”

Ami’s voice dropped, a note of curiosity cutting through the usual bravado. “By the way… who else did you fight? I heard screaming and clattering and, like, three distinct voices over the mic.”

Aoi shrugged. “First two were some scientists that I didn’t give a shit about.”

Ami’s eyes sparkled, goading her on. “Go on…”

Aoi just raised a palm and twisted it, apathy colouring her entire demeanour.

“Then Ashi came in.”

“What?”
That caught Ami by surprise. She swatted at an insect crawling up her soot-stained shirt, brow arching.

The husk grinned, all malice, zero kindness. “Yeah. Fucking Ashi. Bitch ran just as I was about to deliver her the death blow.”

The catacombs were silent for a moment longer—sisters breathing in the chill, musty ambience, the echoes of violence and failed reckoning hanging between them. Somewhere far above, the city’s celebrations continued, oblivious to what had almost happened in the world beneath their feet.

Chapter 52: CLII

Chapter Text

“You’re surrounded.”

“Totally bounded.”

The twin cats, I and Am circled with an uncanny, liquid synchronization. Their tails lashed, their glassy eyes were fixed on the intruders, flickering shadows, half there, half everywhere at once.

Jack planted himself between the cats and the royal siblings, his katana glinting. Astor’s blue, lapis-like wings flexed defensively, the fine fuzz on his antennae standing on end. Verbena tucked in close behind him, her own antennae twitching with alarm.

I’s voice was a hollow monotone. “Step aside, you three, your luck is through...”

“...today we’ve got unfinished business with you,” Am finished, claws extending with a soft snikt.

They lunged as one, a blur of black and white, a coordinated storm of claws and tails. Am whirled low, aiming for Jack’s knees, while I somersaulted from a countertop, aiming for his throat. Jack’s blade flashed, a silver arc in the grimy air, parrying Am’s claws with a screech of steel and forcing him to duck under I’s aerial strike. Sparks flew, peppering the floor.

“Don’t let them split us up!” Astor shouted.

Verbena dove aside as Am rebounded off a shelf, sending a cascade of motor oil cans tumbling across the tiles. The floor became a treacherous slick. Am skidded, using the momentum to grin and launch a can straight at Astor’s head. With reflexes honed by a lifetime of training, Astor caught it, using his tarsus like a cricket bat to smack it back. It connected with Am’s face with a dull clang. The cat yowled, more out of insulted pride than real pain.

Jack, sweat mixing with oil on his brow, kept his sword held steady. “You always were a nuisance,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion. “Why serve Aku, even now?”

“Aku pays—” I hissed, baring his fangs.

“—and he lets us live,” Am finished, wiping oil from his fur.

“There’s more to life than living for scraps!” Jack retorted, parrying another synchronized strike.

As the twins zigzagged through the cramped shop, Verbena beat her powerful wings, whipping up a sudden gust of wind. The gale toppled a shelf of heavy batteries directly onto I, pinning him with a clatter of metal and plastic.

“Now, traveller!” Astor yelled.

Jack didn’t hesitate. He darted past flailing claws, pivoted on the slick soles of his geta, and struck with the flat of his blade. The blow sent Am crashing hard into the wall, a spiderweb of cracks appearing in the plaster behind him. Am groaned, sliding to the floor in a heap.

Wriggling free from the pile of batteries, the lighter-furred one tried to pounce again, his rage making him reckless.

“Try it.”

Verbena was faster, darting in and jabbing him in the side with a heavy metal rod. The blow bought Jack just enough time to spin and catch I mid-leap, the cold, flat steel of his katana pressing against the cat’s throat.

The lighter cat, I, froze, fangs bared, his entire body trembling.

“You get one chance,” Jack said, his voice low and devoid of anger, replaced now with a weary finality. “Walk away. Or next time, you won’t be so lucky.”

Astor loomed behind Jack, his shadow falling over the pinned cat. “And if you ever try to scam anyone again, Duchess or no Duchess, we’ll let the whole desert know you’re thieves.”

Am, wheezing, staggered to his feet, tail tucked low. The two cats exchanged a look—muted, calculating. For the first time, the rhyme, the theatricality, was gone.

“Alright,” I whispered, his voice almost too soft to hear. “Get out. Take what you need and never come back.”

Verbena snatched the legitimate, glowing blue fuel cell from a different shelf, her gaze a dagger. “We won’t. Don’t try to follow.”

Jack kept his blade ready as the trio backed out of the station. The tension only eased when the sliding door finally hissed shut behind them, sealing the two defeated cats in their grimy kingdom of scraps.

Outside, in the baking sun, Astor let out a breath he felt like he’d been holding for ages. Verbena tried to laugh, but it came out as a shaky exhale, her wings trembling. “Well. That was different.”

Jack sheathed his blade, the weight of the fight settling into his bones. A faint, tired smile touched his lips. “At least the old stories are true... never trust a talking cat in this world.”

The caravan door slid shut, and dust swirled behind them as they sped off toward wherever they were headed, leaving the battered Prosperitrol and its rhyming cats to the indifferent dunes.


“They’re coming to La Cité des Étoiles, Duchess.”

The voice was smooth, deferential. Dressed in an immaculate tailcoat and pinstriped pants, the suitor placed a cup of steaming tea on a vast, hardwood desk.

From her high-backed chair, the woman merely hummed in response. One hand was pressed to her cheek, her gaze lost in the star--studded cityscape visible through the panoramic window. With elegant, deliberate fingers, she took a clip from her wavy lob of hair and placed it beside the teacup.

“Just thought that it would be important information for you to know,” the suitor added softly.

A grimace briefly touched her lips, her magenta eyes dulling with a familiar weariness. “I have a tight schedule,” she said, her voice a low, melodic alto. “In a few days, I must be in the Yanlin region to oversee one of Seigneur Aku’s projects.”

“Well… I shall leave it to you then… Duchess Abi.”

The suitor’s footsteps pattered away, leaving Abi alone in the opulent silence of her study. A small, weary sigh escaped her as she began to organise the papers on her desk, basking in the dim glow of the lamp, spinning a pen between her fingers.

“They really should have known that when they started a war against my father, they would suffer,” she muttered to herself, her eyes narrowing in contempt.

“Of course… they’re planning something brash against this city.”

Her fingers stopped spinning the pen. A pang of emotion, not quite sadness, not quite happiness either crossed her heart.

“Let’s see what I can do about it.”


Ashi’s frantic footsteps echoed through the winding, claustrophobic sewer passages. The drip of foul water, the scuttling of unseen things, the graffiti of monstrous eyes—it was a world away from the pristine halls of Aku’s towers. Her cloak, now shredded and heavy with filth, snagged on a rusted pipe.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” she hissed, yanking it free. “It really… wasn’t.”

She pulled out her phone, the screen’s glow a lonely beacon in the oppressive dark. No coverage. Of course. Her heart hammered against her ribs. She was late.

“Oh no. OH NO NO NO,” she gasped, the words tumbling out in a panicked rush.

“WHY… WHY DID I DO THIS…!” She clawed her way through a narrow gap, grime streaking her face. “I’m going to be late. What will father do to me…!”

Her mind reeled, a chaotic slideshow of her own failure.

“How did she…! How did Aoi become like this!” The image of her sister, a grotesque parody of their shared face, was seared into her memory. She ran faster, laboured breaths echoing in the stone tunnels, scrambling up service ladders, sliding under narrow passageways, rocketing through ancient, fortified bunkers.

“Got to get to the surface again…! What am I even doing… why did I make this choice!”

The tunnels seemed to mock her, twisting and turning, every corridor looking the same. She stopped, panting, collecting her breath.
She looked at the tiles beneath her feet.
A gasp.
They were different, smaller, a different pattern.
It wasn’t the original path. It had become more twisted, more convoluted

“Damnit! This isn’t the way I came!” A primal roar of pure rage and frustration escaped her lips, swallowed by the immense, indifferent darkness.

Her eyes frantically searched for an escape. Far in the distance, a small set of metal rungs led upwards. “It goes up… doesn’t matter where I end up. I just have to get myself out of here.”

She climbed, her muscles screaming, and shoved the heavy manhole cover open.

Ashi emerged into the unfamiliar streets of E-877, the sun setting in a blaze of orange and purple. Neon signs blinked, illuminating skybridges that connected vast, pyramid-like superstructures shrouded in mist. This wasn't the city center she knew.

“No.. NO! I’ll be late!”

She sprinted through alleys, zipping past food stalls and bewildered patrons. She had to get to the Asenso Hotel. She fumbled for her phone, intending to call a car, only to see the screen was black, dead.

“What the…! Grrrrhh…”

She spotted an alien in a business suit, his single eye on a stalk blinking in confusion as she rushed up to him. “I… how can I get to the Asenso hotel’s opening, kind sir?” she gagged on her own heaving breaths, leaning on her knees.

The alien looked at her dishevelled, grimy form up and down. “Ma’am, you have business there?”

“Yes, yes, no questions! Please, what directions should I take?”

The alien pointed a spindly finger towards a maglev train station high above. “Well, you can go from Danitra station and get off at Inaman. Then at Inaman, you switch to line B1 and go to Makawan, then switch to Line B3 to get to—”

“Ugh… is there a simpler way? I’m unfamiliar with this city…” Ashi groaned, her patience gone.

“AAAAAAGH… I NEED TO GET THERE…!” she roared, startling nearby drivers and pedestrians. “I’m Lord Aku’s daughter! I need to get there!”

“Woah.. woah. Relax, lady…”

A portly human with a sleazy grin interrupted them, adjusting the buttons on his shirt. “Kumusta, name’s Rodrigo. Where do you need to go?”

“The Asenso hotel. Now. Please,” Ashi said, her voice deadpan, on the verge of collapsing.

Rodrigo pointed around a corner. “Oh, no problem! My car’s over there, let’s go.”

The journey was a blur, the car reeking of old cigarettes, the misty city of faith pylons and skybridges flashing past. Rodrigo dropped her a block away from her destination. The streets here were dark, the usual vibrant lights dimmed or extinguished. She could hear screaming in the distance. Traffic was at a standstill.

“My phone’s dead,” she said, throwing all the physical credits she had at him. “Take it all! I don’t care..!”

“Thank you,” Rodrigo said, his voice less boisterous now, and sped off.

Ashi ran, turning a corner, her unsteady gait nearly sending her into a gutter. The hotel loomed before her. She expected festivals, applause, a brightly lit hall.

What she saw was destruction.

Crowds of people were fleeing. Some lay bleeding on the ground. The entire hotel was in shambles, stanchions toppled, bullet holes peppering the grand facade. The hall was dark, the podium overturned.

“What happened?”

She ran towards the wreckage, only to be blocked by armed guards in black. “State your business here,” one said, his voice a robotic monotone.

“What… I’m Lord Aku’s daughter… his heiress, I need to… what happened here?”

“Stand down, everyone.”

The voice came from behind the guards. Aku stepped forward, his suit ripped, a scowl of profound disapproval on his face. He seemed to almost levitate on the steps, his arms folded.

“Oh, dear,” he said, his voice dangerously calm. “Seems the Young Priestess didn’t listen.”

“Wh-what…?” Ashi stammered, looking at the chaos, at local law enforcement arresting delinquents.

Aku shook his head. “Where were you when I needed you? We could have prevented all this together.”

“What… what happened?” Ashi asked again, her father’s words ringing like a death knell in her ears, fear finally and completely consuming her.


(Approx. 30 Minutes Ago)

The hover-limousine glided to a silent stop before the grand entrance of the Asenso Hotel. The moment the door opened, a cacophony erupted. A wall of flashing cameras, shouting reporters, and adoring citizens surged forward, held back by a straining line of black-suited bodyguards.

“Ah,” Aku mused, a serene smile playing on his green lips as he stepped out into the manufactured storm. “They’ve come to give me my faith.”

The hotel was a monument to his new era—a vast, opulent structure with towering columns of gold, and massive, imposing busts of himself and the High Priestess flanking the entrance. A plush red carpet sprawled out in preparation for the evening's inauguration, lined with stanchions topped with gleaming gold spheres. The crowd was a sea of faces—human, alien, and everything in between—all desperate for a glimpse, a touch, a word.

“Yes, settle down, settle down,” Aku called, his voice a calm, commanding wave that washed over their frantic energy. He waved, but kept his distance, shielded by the cordon of his guards. “The ceremony for the opening of this hotel will start shortly.”

He strode suavely into the lobby, the chaos of the crowd giving way to the cool, marble-floored expanse. expensive perfume and quiet ambition complemented the sophistication, the atmosphere seeming to increase in pure value with the city elites’ presences. Here, he shook hands with the city's elite—the landowners, the corporate representatives, the architects and engineers who had built this new beacon of "progress." He signed tertiary paperwork with a flourish, answered vapid questions from pre-approved reporters, and all the while, a quiet, internal monologue hummed beneath his placid exterior.

People are very easy to trick, he thought, a divine power, warm and intoxicating, flowing into him from the adulation.

All I have to do is feign surprise when it happens.

He glanced outside through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The flashing lights, the cheering crowds, the vibrant city beyond, all bathed in the golden light of the setting sun.

A slight, almost imperceptible smirk touched his lips.

It’s all thanks to Azumi. Her planning is... impeccable.

He continued to smile and nod, his gaze serene, but his mind was a stopwatch.

  1. 9. 8. 7. 6. 5. 4.

A dignitary was mid-sentence, droning on about tax incentives.

3.

2.

1.

CRASH.

The sound was thunderous. From behind the grand corridors and decorative pillars, they stormed in—a dozen figures and more clad in black ski masks, their faces smeared with chaotic streaks of paint, their bodies clad in makeshift bulletproof vests. They moved with a raw, uncoordinated fury, a perfect image of anarchic dissent.

They hurled pipe bombs and makeshift napalm canisters from their jumpsuits. The elegant lobby erupted into screams. Onlookers scattered in terror, tripping over each other in a desperate scramble for safety.

Aku’s face morphed into a mask of theatrical shock. "Look out!" he roared, his voice booming with false concern. He raised a gnarled arm, deliberately placing himself in front of a terrified socialite who was frozen in place, her entire body trembling as the grand windows of the lobby shattered inwards from a nearby blast.

The crowd scattered. The assassins charged.

And then, hidden for a moment by the smoke and chaos, Aku’s slight, private smirk returned. He cracked his knuckles and punched his way through the barrage.

"BWAAHAHAAHAHA! COME AT ME, FOOLS!"

His laughter, now genuine and filled with manic glee, echoed through the ruined hall. He was no longer the serene benefactor; he was the heroic warrior, defending his people. He moved like a whirlwind of tailored violence. An assassin lunged with a knife; Aku caught his wrist and hurled him through a marble-topped table. Another fired a projectile; Aku sidestepped, letting it embed in the wall, and delivered a punishing kick that sent the man flying.

"Such small fry," he chuffed, thoroughly enjoying the charade.

A laser bullet, fired from the back of the room, ricocheted off the tip of one of his horns with a high-pitched whine and struck another black-suited criminal in the chest, dropping him instantly.

Absolutely the plan, Aku grinned internally, effortlessly dodging another attack. Azumi sent the best of the worst. They perform their role beautifully. He was in his element, a god playing a hero. That’s amazing—ah?

His thought was cut short as the world plunged into absolute darkness. The chandeliers, the emergency lights, the glowing busts—everything went out. The only sounds were the panicked screams of the remaining crowd and the surprised grunts of the assassins.

Aku’s gleeful, fighting grin dropped, replaced by a flat, unamused stare into the pitch-black chaos.

"Oh, dear." He almost lost control of his tone, devoid of its earlier theatrics. "Was that planned?"


(Approx. Same Time)

 

For what felt like an eternity, Ami and Aoi had navigated its oppressive labyrinth, their footsteps echoing in a place that seemed to have swallowed all other sound. They had climbed down countless levels, crawled through claustrophobic passageways, and waded through aging, decrepit corridors where the shadows seemed to cling to them like wet silk.

Finally, they descended a set of dusty, crumbling steps that opened into a small, forgotten chamber. Before them stood a disused, barricaded door, its heavy wooden planks swollen and rotting, held shut by rusted nails and a thick layer of neglect.

Ami let out a low chuckle, the sound sharp in the heavy silence. She walked up to the door and, with a casual twist of her fingers, began to gently work one of the massive, rusted nails free from the rotting wood.

"Wow," she drawled, amusement oozing from her tone as the nail came loose with a tortured squeak.

"This door is a perfect representation of their laziness and incompetence."

Aoi, crouched low like a cornered animal, bared her blackened teeth. "Is this the thing you were looking for?"

She could swear her jawbone almost physically detached with how flabbergasted she was.

"Yeah. Finally," Ami nodded, stifling a yawn as the pounamu jade on her wrist pulsed with a soft, green light. She flexed her fingers, which were now covered in rust and grime. "Took us, like, twelve hours, but we're good."

"I’m fucking tired," Aoi growled, her voice low and venomous. "Of you. And of everyone else."

"Bla bla bla… so chatty for a dead person," Ami shot back without even looking, her attention now focused on the door. She scanned its frame, her pink eyes sharp, looking for any sign of a modern bug or an active alarm system hidden amidst the decay. She then crouched down, her gaze sweeping the floor. Beneath a small pile of rubble and filth near the doorjamb, she spotted it: a thin, modern wire, almost invisible against the grimy concrete.

"Connected here... And..." Ami took a deep breath. With a flick of her wrist, a small, glowing pink kunai, no bigger than her finger, materialized from her own energy. With the delicate precision of a surgeon, she gently sliced through the wire. The kunai held its form for a moment, then dissipated into faint pink sparks in her hand. "There," she whispered, a smirk playing on her lips. "It shouldn't trigger anything now."

She rose, and with a cautious hand, pushed the heavy door. It groaned on its ancient hinges, opening into a darkness that felt colder and more profound than the tunnels they had just left. There were no tripwires, no hidden traps, a resistance nonexistent to the intruders. 



Ami and Aoi stared down from a rickety balcony into a vast, spiraling chamber deep beneath the city. In the center, a huge cochlea-shaped machine whirred, glowing a soft blue, tended by figures in hazmat suits.

“Yeah, look at that,” Ami whispered, pointing. “That’s the engine that powers the city’s faith right there. All its electricity and infrastructure.”

“Shit…” Aoi breathed, remembering the smaller version at Pura Kalangit.

“Fucking amazing, huh?” Ami cackled. “That’s how he quantifies all this faith. People get him to do stuff. For him.”

“So what can we do about it, bitch…?” Aoi growled. “Take pictures with your phone and leave?”

“I propose we try to fuck with it a bit and see what it does…” Ami said, her pink eyes glinting. She scanned the dusty room they were in, her gaze drifting from the domed roof of the building, strange glyphs pulsing at the edges of her vision, to the dusty, grimy floors of the balcony ledge they were on.

“?”

She found her eyes landing on a stack of old crates with a blank, time-worn piece of paper resting on top.

“Oh. I got an idea.”

Aoi watched, her black eyes wide with disbelief, as Ami expertly folded a paper plane. “What the hell.”

“Okay,” Ami whispered, a smug look on her face. “3. 2. 1. Takeoff.”

The paper plane fluttered, spiraling, seeming to hang in the air for a moment.

Aoi began to grumble.

“This shit is so slow. Nothing’s happ—” 

BOOM.

A massive explosion rocked the chamber below. Screams and the shriek of twisting metal echoed upwards. The machine sputtered, its blue glow flickering violently.

Ami and Aoi scrambled back up the stairwell as the entire structure groaned, secondary explosions rocking the catacombs.

“Holy fucking shit… HAHAHAAH!” Ami roared with laughter, her voice echoing in the collapsing tunnel. “The whole city’s power is so FUCKED!”

Aoi just pulled her hoodie tighter, her voice a strained hiss. “How the fuck do you find this fun?!?”


They both sped through the catacombs as the echoes of the explosion’s shockwaves rippled through their bodies, shaking them to their very core, Ami’s with glee, Aoi’s in trepidation. 

Chapter 53: CLIII

Chapter Text



Ami staggered to a halt in the cool, fetid darkness, the catacombs spitting them out, as if disgusted by their longer-than-expected presence in the dark halls.

The adrenaline rush from the chaos behind still hadn’t left her bloodstream.
“WOOO, HOLY SHIT… that was FUCKING AWESOME!” she crowed, breathless, her voice echoing down the endless, decaying corridor.

Of course, the manananggal was unamused. She glared, fist tightening just shy of Ami’s cheek. “You don’t even know where we are,” she accused, flat and venomous.

Ami just shrugged, that unflappable grin refusing to budge. “Of course. We just ran for, what, hours? Under here?”

She flashed Aoi a peace sign that screamed annoying little sibling energy.

 Some unintelligible expletive shot out of Aoi’s dark lips.

Ami only laughed, waving her hand dismissively. “Hahaha, settle down, Siche-unnie! We’ll find our way out soon.” She sauntered ahead, rolling her eyes.


“You’re absolutely off your rocker…” Aoi couldn’t help but fire back, even if half-alive.

As they pressed deeper into the gloom, passing rows of abandoned storerooms, splintered doors hanging from rusted hinges, and piles of rotting debris. The air was thick with the stink of old mould, wet earth, and the faint, acrid tang of asbestos.

“Oh SHI—”

Ami jerked back, one foot raised, eyes wide.

Aoi’s brow twitched, all nerves. “What now?”

Ami pointed with the toe of her shoe. “Shitty tripwire. Who the fuck put that there?” She gingerly nudged it, gauging it’s origin and the consequence of what would happen.

The ceiling above groaned ominously.

"The fu-" Aoi tried to speak.

An entire upright piano, its lid warped into jagged splinters, keys yellowed and feral, came shrieking down from somewhere above, smashing into the floor inches from Aoi’s foot, exploding into rotten planks and choking dust.

Ami doubled over, cackling. “AHAHAHAHA! Bro, what is this, Home Alone jungle edition?”

Aoi, coughing, pressed herself to the wall, eyes wide and wild

. “What the fuck…” she muttered, swatting dust out of her hair.

Ami dusted soot and flakes off her mint-green shirt, smirking. “Gotta keep the riff-raff out somehow. Someone’s been busy setting traps down here .”

The husk bristled, voice trembling with anger. “It was aimed for me…”

Ami just winked. “Well, you should’ve been quicker, yeah?” She turned, already climbing a rough stone stairwell that creaked beneath their weight. The shadows swayed with their movements, walls damp and streaked with unidentifiable stains.

Aoi trudged after, dark thoughts gnawing at her. She really doesn’t care. Not for me, not for anyone. She watched Ami’s back, that self-satisfied swagger, and felt an old jealousy gnaw in her gut. I hope I get the chance to pay you back. You deserve to suffer like me.

Ami’s exclamation broke her reverie: “Oi, look at this!” She tapped her knuckles against a battered steel door at the top of the stairwell, her grin lopsided. “You go first. I’ll catch any more pianos, promise.”

Aoi rolled her eyes, but pushed past Ami anyway, her hoodie brushing the chipped frame. She twisted the handle—it shrieked like a dying animal—and pushed the door open. Beyond, a narrow passage twisted gently upwards, claustrophobic and wet, its walls gnawed away by time and water. They walked in single file, hands grazing the gritty, pitted stone, their footsteps a drumbeat in the heavy silence.

The stench of dust and rot finally gave way. Up ahead, pale silver light beckoned.

Ami coughed, brushing grit off her hands. “This place is carcinogenic as hell. If I drop dead from lung cancer, you’d better—”

Aoi cut her off, voice flat: “I’d dance on your grave.”

They both stopped, caught by the sight at the tunnel’s mouth: the night sky, vast and star-smeared, glimmered beyond the jagged frame of the exit.

“At last!” Ami exclaimed, arms flailing as she ran up the claustrophobic passage. 

They burst out of the catacombs like prisoners from a tomb, gulping lungfuls of thick, humid air. Overhead, the jungle canopy was a dense tangle of dark leaves and strangler vines, the moonlight barely slicing through. The trees were ancient, gnarled, draped in moss and slick with condensation; buttress roots rose up like ribs from the muddy earth, which sucked at their boots.

Ami tilted her head back, stretching, grinning in awe. “Finally... air that doesn’t taste like rat piss and death.”
She squinted, hand shading her eyes. “Can’t see the city from here though.”

Aoi just scanned their surroundings, face set in a scowl. The metropolis was nowhere in sight, only the shifting shadows of the forest, trunks looming like ancient gods. The wind rattled the canopy, making the fronds shiver and moan, as if the trees themselves were muttering in an alien tongue. The night was alive with the sound of cicadas, the clicks of unseen geckos, the occasional shriek of some hunting owl, and always, underneath, the thrumming of the wet, heavy earth.

The two stood there for a beat, the city’s artificial light a memory far behind them. Here, on the outskirts of E-877, the wild had reclaimed its hold, suffocating and eternal.

Ami broke the silence first, wringing out the hem of her shirt. “Well. Jungle hike, then? Place is a bit of a dump, but at least there’s no pianos.” Her grin didn’t fade.

Aoi, under her breath, could only muse.
"I’d take the catacombs over this bloody humidity…”

But together they stepped forward into the muddy tangle, the leaves closing behind them, the world of mortals and monsters left to stew beneath the trees.

 




The night over Bagong Ningning hung heavy and mournful, the moon a sickle in the haze, casting cold silver over the chaos that sprawled before the Asenso Hotel. Once-glorious golden pillars were now stained and dripping, the marble entryway spattered with blood and littered with discarded weapons, broken glass, and the unmoving forms of both the foolish and the unlucky. Pots of greenery had been trampled underfoot, their soil bleeding into the cracks of the ruined plaza.

The aftermath of violence pulsed in every direction: paramedics in bright uniforms and respirators wove between the debris, leaping out of hover-ambulances, red and blue strobes cutting jagged lines across the battered façade. They knelt beside wounded humans, animal-folk, and aliens alike, working frantically beneath the indifferent glare of security floodlights. Crushed stanchions, battered hover barriers, and spent cartridges marked the spot where the festivities had bled into catastrophe.

In the centre of it all, a cordon of black-suited bodyguards, faces unreadable behind mirrored visors and heavy armour, kept a perimeter as they shepherded Aku and Ashi away from the site. Aku’s crisp suit, somehow, remained immaculate save for a tear at the cuff and a faint smear of blood along his lapel. Ashi was another story—her cloak and bodysuit were ragged, soiled, her hair wild and limp, sweat and dirt streaking her brow. Her chest still heaved with the aftermath, fear and failure mixing with the ache of exhaustion.

Behind them, the grand opening of the Asenso Hotel, a symbol of Aku’s supposed renewal, was dead before it had begun.

Police drones and press bots buzzed overhead, and the commotion faded as Aku’s security detail bustled the two of them toward the waiting convoy. The hover limousine gleamed beneath neon signage, its doors yawning open with quiet authority. Ashi could hardly breathe as she was ushered in, the city’s cacophony fading behind the hush of double-thick glass.

She took a seat beside her father, heart hammering, feeling smaller than ever. The interior of the limo was plush, climate-controlled, but the air felt wrong—too thick, too close. Aku said nothing, just settled in, his hands folded elegantly on his lap.

The limousine pulled away, gliding not towards Aku’s gleaming office tower as Ashi expected, but along a detour—deeper into the city’s veins, under bridges of silver and steel, neon and ziggurat-shaped towers glowing with faith and corporate fervor. The windows shimmered with passing colours: pinks, sickly greens, and the fever-blue of a city that never slept. For a moment, Ashi wondered if she was being taken somewhere to be punished—properly punished, away from the public eye.

Silence pressed on her skull. Even the bodyguards in the front seat kept their voices to whispers, and the driver’s eyes never left the road.

Aku broke the quiet not with words but with a flick of his hand, retrieving his phone and thumbing through newsfeeds. The soft audio of a news anchor filled the car, somehow making the silence more suffocating.

“Terror in Bagong Ningning’s Asenso hotel opening as the scenes of the carnage unfold – what was supposed to be a grand occasion quickly turned to horror. Bodies strewn about, infrastructure damaged, medics rushing to the scene – and the perceived cause? A security failure, exacerbated by the inability of the local forces to prepare for an incident of this magnitude, and the absence of Lord Aku’s top aide, the elusive Young Priestess…”

Ashi’s skin went cold. Absence? she thought. I didn’t even…

The voice droned on, an interviewer gushing about Aku’s heroics, how he’d fought off attackers, saving bystanders, performing feats no ordinary being could hope to mimic. The account blurred in Ashi’s ears, every word another knife.

She clenched her fists in her lap, nails digging half-moons into her palms. Shame burned hotter than any wound. She had failed, no, she hadn’t even been present.

Aku’s thumb jabbed the phone screen, killing the broadcast. He snorted softly, a bitter, private amusement in his face. “Well. So that’s what people see,” he said, almost to himself.

From the front, one of the secret service agents called back, voice tight and deferential. “Ang Dinakila, are you okay? No serious wounds, bruises or anything?”

Aku stretched, all easy charisma. “No, I’m totally fine. Nothing debilitating. My opponents weren’t anyone dangerous.” He glanced sidelong at Ashi, the words like ice water.

Ashi shrank away from his gaze, unable to meet his eyes. He knows. He always knows. Her cheeks burned with humiliation, tears threatening behind her eyes.

The city outside rolled by in waves of light and shadow, the great, uncaring metropolis swallowing all.

Aku finally rested his chin on his fist, eyes distant as he stared out at the tangled skyline. “What will we do with you, Ashi…?” he mused, voice almost gentle, but to Ashi, the words struck like a death sentence.

The ride continued in near-total silence, the only sound the hum of the limousine’s engine as it sped toward some unknown destination, Ashi’s heart heavy with dread and unspoken apologies.

 




The jungle loomed across the highway, shadows swallowing the edge of the cracked bitumen where Aku’s limousine had come to an abrupt halt. The night air was thick, heavy with the scent of damp earth and distant rot. The only sound was the low, fading hum of the limo as it sped away, leaving Aku and Ashi—father and daughter, judge and condemned, alone at the edge of nowhere.

Ashi stumbled, her boots scraping the rough pavement, the humid air sticking to her sweat-smeared skin. She blinked rapidly, heart pounding, fear crawling up her spine. "Urgh… no. Father." Her voice was small, pleading.

Aku, arms folded, towered above her, his face a mask of disappointed severity. “I’m disappointed,” he said, voice even but cold as monsoon rain.

Ashi glanced left, then right, as if she could spot an escape from the disappointment of her father.
Her desperation mounted, hands clawing the dirt as she fell to her knees on the crumbling shoulder of the road. “No. Okay. Give me another chance,” she gasped. “I didn’t… I failed to protect you. I didn’t listen. I didn’t heed your advice to not do that.” Her voice fractured. “I can be better. For you. For this world you seek to make.”

The clouds overhead thickened, drawing the darkness down like a shroud. Aku shook his head, the blue fire of his beard barely illuminating his 6 horns. “I don’t think you understand the severity of what you just did. Or rather, what you didn’t do.”

Ashi’s pupils widened in terror, her breathing ragged, tears threatening. “I… I tried. I really did.”

Aku scoffed, the sound biting through her panic.
“I don’t think you did. You never listened. Not now… Not then.”

From his suit’s front pocket, he drew the capsule, the one containing the cracked, emerald-green shard, and held it up, letting the streetlights glint off the fractured surface.
"Let me show you..."

He took a slow, ominous step toward her, and Ashi’s every muscle tensed in dread.

Aku’s grip was iron as he seized her wrist, splaying her palm open. “See.” He pressed the capsule into her hand.

Pain.

A heat more intense than fire exploded in Ashi’s palm, searing through her flesh and into her bones.
“ARGH… IT’S BURNING… HOT…!”
She convulsed, clutching at her face as the agony surged up her arm, twisting her insides. Her vision blackened at the edges, her mouth filling with bile. “H-HURKH…”
She gagged, nearly retching, her eyes rolling back.

Aku smiled, faintly, almost gently as he leaned down over to the husk of his daughter. “I told you,” he murmured. “Not to become… like that.”

His plan had worked. She was to be deposed, and he would relish in it. 

So, he thought. The world belongs to me now. 

Or did it? 

The world warped.

A void yawned open around them, swallowing the highway, the jungle, even the night. For a heartbeat, they floated in nothing, then the memories poured in.

Ashi’s memories. Hers, and not hers.

She saw herself, birthed in darkness beside six sisters, each the twisted “gift” of Aku to their ever-fearful mother. Years passed in that cave: training, beatings, the endless grind of forging flesh into weapon. There was no world beyond the stone, except what Aku described.

Masks donned, white as bone. The commandment: destroy Samurai Jack.

A deer in a snowy forest, nuzzling. The sisters on their maiden journey out, confused, and somewhat taken aback. 

An ambush in an ancient temple, naginatas and sai flying, kanabo swinging, kusarigama chains clanging. Shrieks of pain, and one by one, her six sisters dying, blood blooming on white snow. Only Ashi left.

Jack showed her the world, showed her the rot, the heartbreak, the hope.

She saved him from the edge of seppuku beneath moonlit gravestones. She shielded him from orcish hordes while he meditated on a cliff.

She killed her mother, sending that wretched woman tumbling into a cliff. 

Love blossomed in the strangest, loneliest places: fighting on a spaceship, her leaf-dress devoured by leeches, Jack’s face burning red with embarrassment.

She learned the truth, she was Aku’s daughter; and her father’s essence warped her, twisted her body and soul, used her as a weapon against the man she loved.

Still, she fought back. Opened a time portal. Sent Jack home, away from hell, fighting alongside his allies.

Her wedding day. Jack in his dark kimono, the world restored… and Ashi fading away, light and memory torn from the fabric of reality itself.

"Without Aku… I wouldn’t have existed."

Ashi screamed, a guttural, primal howl that cracked the false sky shielding her from her memories.

Aku stood over her, grinning, triumphant.

Until he wasn’t.

“E-eh…”
The demon drawled, his line of sight slowly orienting itself upward.

A figure materialised in the void.

Her.

Ashi, but not really Ashi.

Spectral Ashi, the one clothed in a ghost’s prison uniform, boots heavy with malice, her hair cut in a sharp bob, her eyes feral with hatred.

Ashi choked, her form levitating, jerked back excruciatingly painfully by invisible hands. “Ahk… AHK… AHK…”

Spectral Ashi loomed, face twisted with loathing as her foot twisted deep into the floor of the darkness.
“So. You gave in to him. YOU.”

“You.”

"...Me."

Her voice dropped, almost sad.

Dejected at what she, or some approximated inheritor of her selfless legacy… had become. 

Ashi clawed at her own throat, voice strangled.
“LET ME G-”

Aku could only watch, a hint of shock on his face as the spectral double whipped around to the front… and seized her.

The blue flames in her hand burned bright, ten times more luminous than Aku’s own fire.

The contempt and wrath of an erased timeline had finally caught up with the present.

“Wai-” Ashi could only try to plead. 

It was futile. 

With one motion, the ghostly Ashi pressed her palm to Ashi’s cheek…  searing off the flesh of her left face, singing her cornea.



A shockwave pulsed through her entire body, radiating out from her seared flesh.


“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH..!!!!!!!!!!!"

Ashi screamed yet again, a raw, animalistic wail, her voice echoing through the collapsing liminal space.
The pain dug into her skull, as if the bone itself had nerves to singe. Her left eye melted into it’s socket, further cementing her disfiguration.

“Useless.” 

With the efficiency and grace of a ballet dancer, Spectral Ashi spun, hurling her doppelganger away, shattering the dream, banishing the memory-space.

"Unworthy," the ghost hissed, and vanished, along with the borders of the darkness that had consumed them. 

Reality crashed back in.

Ashi’s limp form flew through the air, hurtling away from civilisation’s edge.

Aku stood alone, the jungle murmuring, shifting on the edge of the highway, the cracked memory shard lying at his feet. He bent, picking it up, staring at its jagged edges as if it might bite him.

"My goodness," he whispered, uncertain for the first time all night. "What was that…?"






The youngest septuplet and her older, undead sister slumped at the foot of a row of towering burflower trees, their trunks stained with lichen  and roots gnarled, the thick jungle pressing in all around them. The muggy air stuck to their skin, sweat running in rivulets down their backs. Insects droned relentlessly in the undergrowth.

Aoi, arms folded tight across her chest, let out a heavy, defeated sigh. “Well… fuck.”

Ami, equally battered, tried in vain to get her bearings, thumbing her half-dead phone. “Where the fuck is E-877? I can’t see it from over here… did the fog get thick or something?” She squinted at the horizon, but the only thing ahead was an endless wall of tangled vines and shadowy trunks.

She jabbed at her screen. “Holy… zero service.” The bars on her phone were as empty as her energy. “We might be stuck in this weird patch of jungle where we can’t see shit… Haha…” There was a wild edge to her laugh, the kind that came out when things were well and truly cooked.

Aoi, side-eyeing her, pressed her lips into a thin, irritated line. “You are the world’s most horrible navigator.”

Ami scoffed, clutching her chest in mock offense. “Hey, I captained a ship to a secret lab, you know! You can’t say that!” She puffed her cheeks, feigning a pout.

Their banter was cut short by a sudden, bone-shaking crash somewhere deeper in the trees. The sound split the air, followed by a low, concussive shockwave. The very earth beneath them shuddered. Tree trunks groaned as they bent outward, leaves and branches raining down in a mad swirl. Rocks and twigs pinged off their boots, and a fine spray of muddy earth caught them in the face.

Aoi’s eyes went wide, her neck wound flaring, black tendrils flicking out instinctively.
“What was that…?” Her whole body tensed, half in fight-or-flight mode.

Ami, who’d jumped too, forced a shaky grin. “It came from… up that ledge.” She pointed to a stony outcrop rising through the tangled green, where the treetops looked freshly battered.

Aoi muttered, more bravado than sense, “Should we go check it out?”

Her sociopath of a sister shrugged, never one to back down from weirdness. “Eh. Why not.”
Her pink eyes glimmered with adrenaline and a touch of lunacy.
“What’s the worst that could happen?”

They pushed through the thick undergrowth, picking their way over roots and through ferns, climbing the slick, rocky ledge. Every step brought them closer to the epicenter of the blast, the air heavy with the smell of scorched earth and something sharp—like ozone or burnt memory.

At the top, the view was pure chaos: a shallow crater gouged into the cliff rock, edges still smoking in the night air. Trees were splintered and half-uprooted, lying at unnatural angles, mud and gravel sliding down from the rim of the crater. The jungle here looked as if a giant fist had smashed down from the heavens.

Ami froze, mouth dropping open as she took in the destruction. “Holy fuck.”

Aoi’s surprise was obvious, even through her usual pulley-faced scowl. “Dude.”

Her eyes flicked from the crater to the battered trees, to the ragged figure crumpled in the middle of it all, half-shrouded by mud and shredded cloak.

The sisters exchanged a look, dread and morbid curiosity mingling in their faces.

“Is that…?” Ami’s words trailed off, uncertain.

Aoi nodded, the beginnings of realisation dawning. “I think it is.”

For a moment, neither moved.

“It’s her."

Chapter 54: CLIV

Chapter Text



The night pressed heavy and humid, the jungle thick as molasses around the outskirts of E-877. Under a battered canopy of moonlight and mist, Aoi slogged her way through the undergrowth, her arms hooked under the limp body of her barely-conscious sister. Brambles clung to her shredded black hoodie, every step a battle through vines and creepers eager to trip her up. The air tasted of rot, sap, and old rain.

“Damnit…” Aoi grunted, voice brittle with fatigue. She shifted Ashi’s weight on her back, boots squelching in the mud. “Fucking bozo. You made us lost.”

Ami cackled, swinging a peeled branch like a walking stick, her mint shirt stained with streaks of blood and dirt. “Well… uh…”

She offered nothing by way of apology, just that trademark, insufferable smirk.

Aoi glanced back, breath coming heavy, hair plastered to her face, a mess of tangled fringe snagged on leaves. “And we just found her.”

Ami’s smirk faded just a tick as she peered at the ragged figure on Aoi’s back. “Her eye is… gone.”

Aoi almost laughed, a short, mean sound. “Yeah.”

Ami sighed, flicking a bug off her arm. “Ah fuck… I really don’t know where the place is.”

For a moment, both stared at Ashi, her face streaked with blood, a crude wad of cloth pressed against her blown-out eye socket. The jungle seemed to press in tighter, as if the vines themselves were listening, waiting for someone to drop.

Ami shook out her sandal, gravel and mud stuck in the thong. “What the hell…”

Her undead septuplet just heaved Ashi higher on her back, cursing under her breath. “Yeah, how are we gonna get back to where we were?”

Ami just set off ahead, shouldering through hanging roots. “I’m going to where…” She jerked her chin in the direction they’d come. “...this bitch was thrown from.”

So the trio slogged onward, hacking and swatting their way through brambles and trailing lianas, thorns scraping skin, fire ants biting their ankles. The soil was slick and unpredictable; rotten logs threatened to collapse underfoot. Each step was a choice between mud, stinging nettles, or the clawing embrace of undergrowth. The only real sound was the cacophony of night insects and their own laboured breaths.

Aoi coughed, sweat and grime stinging her eyes. “Agh… she’s so heavy….”

Ashi, battered nearly beyond recognition, could only gag, blood flecking her lips. “Kahkh…”

Ami, ever the smartarse, shrugged, “Haaaa. How whiny.”

Aoi’s face twisted, rage barely contained. “You fucker… you’re not helping in any way, you brought us into this position, now you don’t know where the hell we are!”

Ami waved a lazy hand, as if batting away her sister’s words along with the mosquitoes. “Yeah, yeah. I’ve survived in the wild before. It’s pretty easy. Just gotta know how you can deal with the wilderness.”

Aoi tilted her head back, almost clocking the wounded Ashi with her skull. “Dude…”

Ashi was nearly gone, a sliver of consciousness flickering beneath bruised skin.

Memory fragments battered Ashi’s mind. 

Arresting an alien in the tavern, a stranger in a gi and long hair breaking through the crowd. “Do you not remember me?”

Ami, appearing beside him, shoving past the rows and rows of officers guarding them. “Your longing to belong will be your undoing.”

Hauling a green-eyed alien kid, Cole Lampkin and his gang, off the beaches of E-273.

Cuffing a three-eyed alien, Narc and her team of vagrants in the back alleys of E-273 before heading to E-108.

At the jungle of Bhumanagara’s edge, pummelling a rebel woman, Anjana, while Devansh, the stone elephant, watched.

A voice, her own, twisted and venomous, spectral even, echoed in her mind.
“Look at what you did.”

The samurai in agony on the sand, the gunshot at Bet-Azakh she did. Rashid, Haw’telah, Aku watching with faces of horror or cold delight.

“Now look at what I did.”

Saving the man she would eventually come to love, from her mother’s orcsmen, and even killing her mother.

Holding Jack’s hand in a junkyard as they lay on a tarp, under strange alien stars.

Sending him back in time, after his confession that he loved her so, so much, her petite face emerging from the darkness the erased timeline had subjected her to.

Hugging him at sunrise, in black, always on the edge of vanishing.

Fading away at her wedding, cupping his cheek.

Who are you to take my name? 
Her mind whispered these harsh words back at her.
Ashi, in the dimness of her own failing mind, whispered, “No…”
A single tear, red with blood, traced down her cheek.

Aoi caught the faint sound, the shift in weight. “She’s alive.”
She said it without emotion.
In her mind, she connected the dots. “
Unlike me. She’s the lucky one. Not me. Her neck tendrils curled inwards, a bitter knot.

“Oh shit, WAIT… YOOOOO!”
Ami, who’d been half-dozing through the misery, trudging through the jungle on autopilot, snapped awake. 

“What… oh.” Aoi just blinked. 

The jungle ended abruptly at a battered, overgrown highway, moonlight pooling in cracks. Ami’s face lit up with wild, childish glee. “AHAHAHA… Holy shit, I recognise this route! Scara drove us around here… so then the abandoned facility should be back there!”

Aoi nearly collapsed from relief, muttering, “Finally.” Her voice caught somewhere between triumph and a last gasp.

Ami, peering at the warped, fractured tarmac, grinned. She kicked a piece of rubble, looking at the destruction of the road beneath her sandals.

“Eh…? Why’s the ground so cracked here. Haha, shit maintenance I guess. Father’s style.”

Aoi just heaved Ashi onto her back again. “Can you not get distracted for like 5 seconds?”

Ami was already jogging ahead, singing a tune and waving. “Haha, keep up with me if you can, Siche!”

Aoi’s patience finally snapped, but all she could muster was a venomous, “You fucker,” as she dragged herself, and her nearly-lifeless burden, out of the wild and back toward whatever passed for civilisation in Aku’s world.







Aku sat in the deep-cushioned embrace of his hover-limousine, the plush seats swallowing him in a comforting, synthetic luxury as the city’s nightscape blurred by. A cool artificial breeze whistled from hidden vents, carrying the scent of new plastic and faint ozone. He gazed out at the neon glow streaking across the windows, city lights glimmering like jewels behind the tinted glass.

His aides had scooped him up off the cracked highway not long ago, far enough from the ruined jungle, from Ashi’s wretched spectacle, but not far enough that the sickly taste of defeat didn’t linger on his tongue.

For a while, Aku said nothing, watching the city flicker by. His fiery beard smouldered in the half-light, his suit still immaculate despite the night’s violence.

One of his henchmen, a tall, violet-skinned alien with spectral eyes, turned from the front seat, catching the furrow of his brows reflected in the limousine’s gold-trimmed partition. “My Lord Aku, what is the problem?” There was a hint of fear in the question, carefully masked with deference.

Aku’s eyes glinted. He stroked his beard, tie, and horns in turn, the gestures practiced and regal. “Nothing,” he said at first, voice smooth as old whisky.

But then, softer, almost thoughtful, he let out a sigh, his gaze wandering back to the blur of highways and overpasses slipping past. “Sometimes, your best work, your magnum opus, rebels against you in ways you don’t even imagine. Life throws curveballs at everyone, so one must always expect the unexpected.”

The henchman nodded, returning his attention to the road. “Wise words, Ang Dinakila.”

Aku scoffed, a ghost of a grin curling his green lips. “Well, of course.” He wore his arrogance like a tailored suit... impeccable, unassailable.
Yet beneath that veneer, a coil of unease tightened in his gut. He reached into his jacket pocket, fingers closing around the capsule with the cracked green memory shard. As his skin made contact, a strange heat radiated through his fingertips. One that burnt hotter than before, almost feverish.

He masked his discomfort behind a casual mask, but his mind raced. What’s this? Why is it so hot? It’s like it can’t contain its own memories… He turned the capsule over in his palm, feeling the pulse of energy, alive, writhing, as if the shard itself was fighting to escape.

Oh, dear, he thought. Alright. I know what I must do.

The limousine’s interior glowed pale blue as Aku flicked open his slim, rectangular holoprojector, sleek, the latest model, designed for dignitaries and despots alike. With practiced fingers, he typed out a message, not bothering to voice his thoughts aloud.

To: THP
Appreciate your help, Azumi. The operation to get rid of Ashi worked successfully.
The timing seemed a little off, but the coordination and the general gist of the plan worked. We baited Ashi to go and do something for me, she of course failed, and I now have the best alibi as to why she can no longer ‘perform her duties.’
I’m glad for your help.

He sat back, watching the city flow past, thumb idly stroking one horn, trying to press the last vestiges of anxiety away.

Within seconds, a notification pinged, Azumi’s reply, the screen shimmering in the half-light. Aku arched a flaming blue eyebrow, twisting one of his horns into proper alignment, his suspicion barely hidden.

He read the message in silence, his fangs just visible beneath his tightly pressed lips:

From: THP
My Lord. I’m always grateful for your support.
That said… my own agents told me that by the time they got there, the destruction had already happened.

For a moment, only the soft whirr of the limousine’s engine and the city’s heartbeat outside broke the silence. The words echoed in Aku’s mind, each syllable prodding at his sense of control.

Oh… dear. His fingers tightened around the capsule. What am I supposed to believe?

He forced a small smile, but for the first time that night, the seat beneath him felt less like a throne and more like a cell.

 




The endless desert night pressed in on the caravan, its battered chassis humming quietly as it bounced across the sleeping dunes. Inside, pale moonlight slithered through cracks in the patchwork roof, illuminating the two lepidopteran siblings at the helm.

Astor hunched over the controls, four nimble tarsi steady on the steering levers, the other two flicking switches and nudging glowing blue gauges. His antennae waggled in anticipation. “Yeah, we should be reaching that waypoint soon,” he muttered.

Verbena reclined beside him, drawing her luminous pink wings tight around her shoulders like a makeshift cloak. The faint blue light from the instruments shimmered across her scales. “And after that,” she said, “we should be able to take one of those wormholes to La Cité des Étoiles…”

In the back of the caravan, Jack stirred, hair mussed, gi rumpled, jaw shadowed and stubbled. He shifted, trying to find comfort in a world that felt anything but comforting. His eyes fluttered beneath the curtain of his hair, the exhaustion of the day not quite banishing his worries.

Astor glanced over his shoulder, watching the samurai for a moment. “Is he waking?”

Verbena looked too, then shook her head. “Doesn’t seem like it.”

The conversation paused, only the mechanical hum and occasional bump of the caravan filling the silence. But after a minute, Astor’s eyes returned to the endless black road ahead, and he spoke again—lower, softer, as if wary of being overheard.

“This world is strange,” he said, antennae drooping. “I’m glad we’ve got that guy, you know. Calls himself Jack.”

Verbena nodded, glancing at Jack’s sleeping form. “He helped us when we stopped over at that dangerous spot to fill up on power. We owe a lot to him.” 

Astor’s tone darkened, and he dropped his voice. “All that said, I don’t know if this outlander is entitled to know the full story of where we’ve come from.”

Verbena seemed to weigh his words, her tarsus on her chin, the cool recycled air swirling around her. “Right, brother.”

Astor’s face hardened, his lips tight. “It’s because of that… Seigneur Aku guy. A few years back, our kind landed on Earth—at his command. He wanted cheap labour after our home planet, Chrystallis, almost fell to the Squoomians. Our father—King Coleos, only a leader in name, betrayed Aku.

“Father backstabbed him.” For a moment… Astor’s tongue almost infused itself with venom. 

Verbena’s scales shimmered as she nodded.

“Our father never upheld the deal. Seigneur Aku was incensed. And our father’s defeat ended any chance Chrystallis had. The wormhole—Le Vortex—connects Chrystallis to this planet now, but even then cross-realm travel is restricted.. Only Aku’s slave ships use it, bringing more of our kind here to toil.”

Astor gave a venomous, low laugh.
“Seigneur Aku collectively punishes us for what our royals did. Even now, generations later, we can’t escape it. Of course, even La Duchesse has no appreciation for us.”

Verbena’s eyes narrowed, voice taut with resolve. “It’s the spiral-shaped machine. The one that powers Le Vortex. We must destroy it.”

Astor’s antennae stiffened. “Of course.”

Verbena pressed on, her voice lower. “The Duchess… she’s his daughter. She doesn’t like us, but would she really try to stop us? Five earth years we’ve spent in her service—I hope that’s enough trust that she won’t suspect anything.”

Astor shrugged, swerving the caravan past a gnarled outcrop of rock. “I’m not sure. But I hope you’re right.”

All this time, Jack lay in the back, head on the windowsill, feeling the staccato of the caravan’s rumble beneath him.

He could only be as still as a statue, eyes wide open beneath the mess of his hair, breath held tight in his chest. Each word from the siblings seeped through the thin walls, a creeping tide of doubt.
What are they planning?

What could they be doing?

What does all of this mean? The answers slipped through his grasp, like sand through his fingers.

Out here, under the blank eye of the moon, in a world built on lies and broken alliances, only the seeds of doubt seemed to grow.


 

The musty doors of the long-abandoned facility groaned open, hinges shrieking against years of rust. Must and age blended with the lingering scent of old chemicals and something almost medicinal.

Ami grinned wide, sucking in the heady air as if she’d come home. “Ah! Now this is nice.” She tossed her fringe out of her eyes, clearly in her element.

Behind her, Aoi staggered in, hauling Ashi’s limp body across her bony shoulders. “Where can I set her down?” she muttered, already sounding done with everything.

Ami pointed confidently down one of the shadow-choked hallways, her boots crunching on crushed glass and scraps of torn paperwork scattered like fallen leaves. “Over there, Ms. Undead. Thanks.” There was a twisted sort of warmth in her voice, like she was genuinely proud of her navigation skills.

Aoi’s patience was nearly gone, her lip curling. “Jesus…”

They wound their way deeper into the facility, their footfalls echoing off peeling plaster and warped linoleum. A few flickers of failing light made the abandoned rooms look even more haunted—old office chairs tipped on their sides, hunks of decaying equipment, and in one side room, a battered hospital bed squatting in the gloom. 

Ami immediately brightened, scanning the mess. “If my supplies aren’t here, I’ll kill him,” she muttered, but her complaint was half-hearted, almost gleeful.

She spotted a small, haphazardly wrapped box on a nearby counter, hands clapping together in delight. “Oh wow! Looks like Scara did the job!” She wasted no time, tearing into the bubblewrap and cardboard with savage efficiency.

Meanwhile, Aoi flopped Ashi down on the hospital bed without ceremony. Ashi’s body hit the frame with a dull clang, and the old bed shuddered under the weight.

Aoi, still standing, looked Ami up and down, suspicion growing in her eyes. “What the fuck is that, sis?”

The pink-eyed psycho just cackled, pulling various items from the box—syringe, a strange capsule, a vial of odd pale solution. “Shit, you know it’s… some test medical thing.” She handled the equipment with a showman’s flair.

Aoi’s face darkened, and she sank into one of the creaky office chairs, eyes narrowed to black holes of frustration. Ami ignored her, launching into an explanation that managed to sound both excited and a little bit threatening. “So… I’d wanted to come here because I wanted to operate on you with this…”

The husk of a woman recoiled, chair screeching across the cracked surface.
“What the FUCK, bitch?”

Ami’s eyes sparkled, clearly loving every second of her sister’s horror. Her fingers danced over this circular thing, instilling nothing but an ominous fear in Aoi's mind. 
It’s called a tissue multiplicator. Basically, it forces any tissue from any organism put inside it to grow. You can make new, living, growing tissue out of even just a few cells. Eyes, skin, heart, lungs... you name it. Just inject something into it, and voilà. It’ll grow.”

Aoi’s face went pale. She pushed back, snarling.
“Get that SHIT AWAY FROM ME.”

The countess just laughed, flicking some dust and dried blood from her mint-green shirt.

“You know what’s the meaning of jjingjeonghae? Calm downnnnn, bitch… AHAHAHAAHA!” She tossed her hair, reveling in Aoi’s discomfort.

With a sudden shift, she turned to the fractionally conscious Ashi, gauze still pressed to the mess that was her left eye socket.

“But… I guess she could be the first test subject. You consent, don’t you, Ashi?”

Ami’s expression grew giddy and clinical at once, hands rubbing together with unrestrained excitement. 

Aoi, biting her forked tongue, hissed through her teeth.  “Holy shit…”

Despite the horrific implications, Ashi, still deep in the fog of unconsciousness, didn’t stir.

Ami grinned, satisfied. “That’s what I like to hear.”

And as the dust settled around the three sisters, the ghostly atmosphere of the old facility seemed truly well and ready to accept–or reject whoever failed or succeeded to survive in this world. 

Ami tilted her head, fingers dancing over the smooth surface of the colourless capsule, like a pianist warming up for an award winning performance. The  device sputtered to life with a low, insectile hum, pale green backlight spilling across the room.

Aoi shifted in her chair, the broken casters groaning as she leaned forward. “You’re actually gonna do this?” Her voice was low, like an animalistic howl strangled in her throat.

Ami didn’t look up. “Of course. What’s the point of finding toys if you don’t play with them?”

She plucked the pale capsule from its holder and loaded it into a cylindrical chamber at the heart of the machine.

“A few cells, some catalyst fluid…” She tapped the syringe against her palm. “And voilà, new life.”

Aoi’s eyes narrowed. “New life, or another one of your freak experiments?”

Ami flashed her teeth, unbothered, using a finger to pick off grime from her face.
“Difference is academic.”

She peeled back the gauze on the left side of Ashi’s face, revealing the ragged ruin beneath, a hollow where her eye once was, skin frayed and uneven from hasty bandaging. Ashi didn’t stir, breath shallow, lips faintly parted.

Aoi’s hands twitched against her knees. “She’s not even conscious.”

“Which makes this easier.” Ami drew the syringe’s plunger, amber fluid catching the flickering light. With almost surgical detachment, she slipped the needle into the capsule’s inlet, pressing the solution in. The machine responded with a wet, throaty churn, the kind of sound that made one’s skin want to deglove itself from the body.

Through a small viewing slit, pale tissue began to knit and twist on its own, strands of muscle, flecks of cartilage, glistening as if perspiring under heat. It pulsed like a heart, then elongated, fibres weaving together into something disturbingly recognisable: the embryonic curve of an eye.

Aoi’s face grimaced.  “That’s unnatural.”

Ami tilted her head, watching the growth with fascinated detachment. “Unnatural is relative.” She reached up, fingers brushing the forming sclera as if she could feel its texture through the glass. “You should be proud. You get to see history.”

A loud clack punctuated the process as the machine’s inner drum locked into place. Ami smiled down at Ashi’s still form, voice dripping with mock affection. “Don’t worry, sis. I’ll make you whole again… just not in the way you think.”

The multiplicator’s hum deepened, then abruptly stopped.
"Look at this... ahahahha.."

Aoi jerked back slightly in disgust, her own spindly fingers now glued to the side of the chair in disbelief.

Inside a beaker, a pale new eye floated in a viscous suspension, ready to be claimed.

Aoi didn’t move, didn’t stop her. But she didn’t look away either.

And from the bed... Ashi stirred a little.

Through her one working eye, bruised from the earlier syringe insertion she could see... a new eye. Identical to hers, complete with the fraying nerves at the end. It was like an umbilical cord attached to a foetus. This eye... would be hers.

"There." Ami said.

"How charitable am I, right?"

A maniacal guffaw escaped her throat, ricocheting off the walls of the derelict facility.

"Hmmm..." Ami mused. "Alright."

A pair of tweezers picked the eye out of the fluid. Ami watched as the eyeball dangled from it's orbital nerves, tightening her lips with glee.

"Ahaha... yeah. This is it."

Without hesitation, she waded through the clumps and mounds of rubbled on the floor to reach her sister on that operating table.

"This is gonna hurt, Ashi."

"But... you'll thank me."

"Won’t you?"

Ashi's finger twitched slightly on the operating table. No sound came out of her throat, even though she so desperately wanted to scream at her identical sister's states, one a maniac, the other a husk. 

"Of course. You will thank me." Ami smiled, making sure her chest puffed out as obnoxiously as possible as she stood over the brutalised Ashi.

And the disgraced Young Priestess could only scream internally, as her empty left orbital socket was suddenly invaded with the foreign sharpness of tongs, drills, and laser pointers.

A reconstruction project, much like Aoi was. Except now, they both remembered everything, and were under the thumb of their youngest, most sociopathic sibling.

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