Disclaimer: I own nothing, this is purely a fanfic for enjoyment.
Cross-over from various games, books, anime, manga, and movies.
The familiar characters you see here belong to their respected authors and owners.
"Speech"
Time*
Chapter 51: Unexpected Results
An hour later*
I wipe the cold sweat from my forehead, my breath still uneven, as I'd finished giving Momoyo an in-depth explanation of sex—an explanation that ultimately went far beyond words. I chose to demonstrate firsthand, letting her experience it directly rather than relying solely on theory.
Eventually, Momoyo succumbs to fatigue, her body slackening as she drifts into sleep. Despite the physical toll of what just transpired, I remain relatively fine—one of the many benefits of being a Triple Pathway Beyonder. But mentally, I'm drained. The weight of bridging that kind of intimacy, especially with someone like Momoyo, has left my thoughts raw, my mind overextended and frayed at the edges.
Silently, I pull the blanket over her bare form, letting it rest gently against the curves of her body. For a moment, I simply watch the steady rise and fall of her breathing—peaceful, unguarded. Then I begin dressing, each motion slow, calculated, precise. When I fasten the last button of my shirt, I activate Spirit Vision. My senses widen, reality sharpening into layers as I sweep the surrounding area for disturbances, traces of malicious intent, or lingering spiritual interference.
Satisfied that nothing nearby poses a threat, I reach into my coat pocket and retrieve a single coin. Its edge glints faintly under the room's dim light. Holding it flat in my palm, I infuse it with a thread of my Spirituality and toss it lightly into the air.
Should I go outside right now?
I ask the question internally—seven times, anchoring the inquiry with my Spirituality. Before the coin reaches the apex of its arc, I snatch it out of the air, eyes narrowing as I study the result nestled in my hand.
Heads.
A positive answer.
I raise an eyebrow at this—it's very late at night. The wall clock reads 1:32 AM. Still, I shouldn't rely entirely on surface-level Divination, especially not when I'm outside the Sefirah Castle. Fates are always circling, waiting, looking for cracks to slip through. They could easily influence a simple reading.
No. This needs to be double-checked—computed, not just felt.
I had already completed all the necessary steps before transitioning, so the moment I appear within the Sefirah Castle, I'm seated in my usual spot. Without hesitation, I open the laptop and power it on, the soft hum of the machine oddly comforting in this metaphysical sanctum.
A faint smirk tugs at the corner of my lips.
Being a Beyonder of not one, but three Pathways: Fool, Error, and Door, does more than grant versatility. It sharpens the edge of what's possible. Even more than the synergy I once felt using Eternal Edict alongside Error, this current combination fits me like a second skin.
If anything, I feel a growing resonance with the Sefirot, especially the Sefirah Castle itself. The longer I dwell here, the more I seem to belong—not as a guest, but as someone meant to be here.
Still, I should remember to craft a few more charms later—precautions and enhancements for what lies ahead, especially in the Fool Pathway. But for now, my focus returns to the task at hand.
Time for a brief session of Computational Divination—just enough to steer fate before I step back outside.
An hour later*
I rub the back of my neck—the night air has turned crisp, a biting chill threading through my clothes. Still, it doesn't dampen my good mood. Not tonight.
Far from the lights and spiritual pulse of Kawakami Temple, I've found a secluded clearing, shadowed by trees and silence. It's here that I set up the necessary components for the ritual. A small, hand-crafted altar stands at the center, and resting upon it is a statue of a door, its frame embedded within a swirling vortex of slick, sinuous tentacles. It's an abstract yet faithful representation of the Mystical Creature Form of the Lord of Mysteries.
Suspended around the statue, three Cards of Blasphemy: Fool, Error, and Door hover in slow, deliberate orbit.
I bring my hands together in a sharp clap. A spark of Spirituality flares into existence, and I channel it into the statue, anchoring my intent as I close my eyes and enter Cogitation. My breathing slows, thoughts aligning into a singular current of will as I begin the invocation.
In the ancient, reverent tones of Hermes, I chant:
"I pray for the Lord of Mysteries;
King of Space-Time;
Beacon of Destiny;
Embodiment of Sefirah Castle;
Dominator of the Spirit World.
Please bestow your powers to seal away the Fates' influence toward those I care for."
The words echo into the stillness, laced with intent. The moment I finish the final syllable, I feel the familiar pull—not physical, but metaphysical, like my essence is being drawn through the folds of reality.
Without hesitation, I act. I shift my perspective, performing the steps required to enter the Sefirah Castle. Space bends, layers peel, and I am there.
Within the shimmering halls of the Castle, I can hear an echo—faint but clear—of my own voice, still resonating with the power of the ritual.
Moving quickly, I clenched my fist and invoked the powers of the Sefirah Castle to complete the ritual. A surge of metaphysical force rippled outward as the invocation reached its climax, the Sefirah Castle's resonance anchoring my will in reality.
Without hesitation, I descended, returning to the physical world, and reached into my coat. I reach out towards one of the three Cards of Blasphemy and drew out the Error's Uniqueness, letting its form shift and solidify into a monocle. I placed it over my right eye, the cold frame biting into my skin slightly as it locked into place.
Through the monocle, my vision twisted—refined far beyond what even Spirit Vision could perceive. Despite my status as a Triple Pathway Beyonder, with access to Fool, Error, and Door, and even the backing of the Sefirah Castle, there were still things that defied normal perception.
But not anymore.
With the Uniqueness focused, I finally saw it—an entity, a force, or perhaps a presence—subtle, immense, and insidious. A manifestation of the Fates themselves. Not a person or spirit, but a principle given form—something old, abstract, and utterly malignant.
I reached for the silver ritual knife, its blade gleaming in the flickering candlelight, and performed a precise stab in the air before me. The blade met no physical resistance—yet something resisted. The space around the tip distorted violently.
I smirked.
A subtle shudder passed through the ritual circle as the phantom of Fates recoiled. My strike had landed—not upon flesh, but upon concept, and that was enough. The power of the Sefirah Castle descended in full force, shimmering golden threads binding the unseen. The Fates' influence was sealed, at least temporarily.
With the immediate threat subdued, I removed the monocle and returned the Error's Uniqueness to the Card of Blasphemy, where it dissolved into pure symbolic essence.
Methodically, I anointed each candle with a drop of essential oil, its scent sharp and bitter. I took the parchment inscribed with runes and symbols and held it over the central flame until it caught fire. The paper crumpled into ash, its meanings consumed.
The ritual was complete.
I extinguished the candles one by one, each snuffing out with a faint hiss. Finally, I dispelled the wall of Spirituality, allowing everything to return to its mundane state.
Silence settled in.
"One plan successfully completed." I mutter under my breath as I begin packing away the ritual components—candles, altar, and all the other necessary tools—ensuring nothing remains behind to trace or contaminate the site.
With everything secured, I relocate swiftly, moving even farther away from Kawakami Temple. I rely on my status as a Seer to sense danger through intuition and my Spirituality, letting instinct guide each step. The Marauder within me grants physical prowess far beyond ordinary human limits—my movements are fast, fluid, and acrobatic, effortlessly navigating the terrain. As an Apprentice, I ignore physical barriers entirely; trees and branches simply cease to matter, my form phasing through them like a specter.
No traps, no sudden ambushes. Not even a spiritual ripple to hint at pursuit.
Eventually, I stop near a natural waterfall, its cascading veil of water muffling the world around me. The moonlight dances across its surface, painting the landscape in soft silver hues. The area feels tranquil, yet not empty.
She stands nearby.
Not far from the falls is a tall, slender woman, unmistakably striking. Her shoulder-length turquoise hair shimmers faintly in the moonlight, a sharp contrast to her yellow eyes, which are accentuated by white pupils, long eyelashes, and finely shaped eyebrows. Her gaze is sharp, evaluative.
A tattoo resembling the Orion constellation trails along her right arm, stark against her skin. She wears a white tank top beneath a partially zipped, off-shoulder black jacket, matched with sleek black pants and black shoes. The look is minimal but deadly—elegant in a way that speaks of control and confidence.
She hasn't said anything yet. She doesn't need to.
Neither do I. Not yet.
We stare at each other for a while.
Before me stands Rion Akao or Akao Rion, if we're following Japanese convention, surname first.
"You've got some nerve showing your face in front of me, Nagumo." She scowls, her voice sharp as she speed-walks toward me. "Seriously?!" She snaps, eyes blazing. "You drop everything—your friends, your life—just to become some loyal dog, chasing after a woman who clearly didn't return your feelings and only ever wanted to use you! And now? Now you're getting married into the Kawakami Clan?!"
Her words come out in a torrent, no room for interruption, no chance for me to explain.
"What the hell are you even thinking? Wait, no—you're not even thinking at all!"
I open my mouth to reply, to explain—anything—but she keeps going, voice rising as frustration bleeds into anger. She jabs a finger at my face, right between the eyes, her nail nearly brushing my skin. My gaze involuntarily crosses as I stare at the offending finger, stuck somewhere between exasperation and amusement.
She's always been like this—blunt, loud, and impossible to ignore.
"It's good to see you, Akao." I say softly, offering Rion a small smile. "I wasn't expecting to see you so soon. Did you meet up with Sakamoto yet?"
"Don't try to change the subject, you knucklehead!" Rion snaps, glaring at me with fire in her eyes. "Do you have any idea how much effort and resources I burned through trying to find you?!"
She jabs a finger into my chest with enough force to make me take half a step back.
"And why the hell can't you stay in one place?! I ran all the way to London, only to find out you'd vanished again! Next thing I know, you're back in Japan, tied up with the Kawakami Clan's heiress! What's with that, anyway?!"
Another poke. Sharper this time.
"And as if that wasn't already ridiculous, now you're in a relationship with her? The Kawakami Clan actually accepts you? Unlike that bitch Integra—who led you on for years! Did you even know she's coming to Japan because of you?!"
"...Wait, what?" I blink, my brow furrowing in genuine confusion. "Integra's coming to Japan?"
Rion rolls her eyes hard, then lets out an exasperated sigh.
"Yeah. She clearly found out about you and the Kawakami Clan's little fighting princess. She must've panicked the second she realized she couldn't keep you on a leash anymore."