Stupid Sexy Cryptids [92-97] (Patreon)

92: Yesterday [I]

It all started with a fairly innocuous question I asked Kawathra last night during our Corpse Seeker ride from Shady's date with Commander Sillicia.

"Could you print a human using the Corpse Seeker's printer?"

"Technically?" The magpie girl tilted her head at the particular angle birds use when they've spotted something shiny. "Yes. Absolutely. The fabrication matrix can reproduce any organic structure down to the atomic level. Why?"

"Just curious about the capabilities," I said, failing to sound casual.

Shady wiggled where she lay sprawled across my lap, legs resting on Nexxali's thigh. "Are you thinking about making a backup body in case we break this one?"

"I mean..." I started.

"Heh," Nexxali's ears perked up. "Kawthy, explain the technical limitations before our Emperor gets any ideas about creating an army of himself."

Kawathra clicked her dark beak, black feathers glimmering with iridescence at the edges. Charts bloomed in the air around her head—anatomical diagrams, cellular structures, probability matrices cascading like digital waterfalls.

"Creating a physical duplicate with magitek is trivial," she began, analytical tone kicking into high gear. "The Seeker's bio-printer can absolutely scan and reproduce your exact body structure, accounting for exact skeletal density, neural pathway complexity, 38 trillion bacteria, 30 trillion human cells...."

"But?" I prompted, cutting her rant short.

"But the most important thing doesn't transfer," she said simply.

"Um, so if you fully scanned and then duplicated me with the Corpse Seeker printer what would come out?"

"You, but wrong," Kawathra said.

"Wrong how?"

"Soulless," Kawathra said.

I stared at her. "So what you're saying is that this highly advanced alien machine cannot duplicate human souls?"

"Souls are… complicated," Kawathra hedged. "They exist as quantum information structures that interface with physical bodies through Astral resonance, but the exact mechanism of—"

"Kawthy," Nexxali interrupted. "You're doing that thing where you hide behind rant jargon when you don't want to admit something."

The magpie's feathers ruffled. "I am not—"

"You absolutely are," Shady chimed in, poking at Kawathra with one clawed finger. "Just tell Ashy what happens if you print him without a soul. Does he come out as a sexy vegetable or what?"

"Not... exactly," Kawathra admitted. "A soulless duplicate would have all general functions. Breathing, heartbeat, cellular repair. But it would come out wrong. Like a muddy mirror version of you."

Her charts shifted to display two human silhouettes side by side. One glowed with intricate patterns of inner light, the other remained dim and hollow.

"Muddy how? Like, why don't the Omnids just print themselves infinitely?" I asked. "Or print infinite Prads to serve them?"

"Because soulless bodies are... problematic," Kawathra continued, her charts displaying eerie shadow-tentacles reaching toward the hollow human silhouette and then filling it with fractal shimmering things. "It's a taboo to duplicate an Omnid for a reason. Souls aren't just skill and consciousness containers. They're the thing that manages the defensive barriers of the physical body. Without one, a body becomes..." She paused, searching for the right term. "Permeable."

"Permeable to what?"

"Everything in the Astral," she said matter-of-factly. "Parasitic entities, wandering consciousness fragments, memetic infections, concept-eaters. Think of a soul as an immune system manager for the metaphysical. Without it, a printed body becomes a vacancy sign for anything looking for meat to wear. The longer a body stays without a soul, the more entropic things get in. The most common thing that gets in is Astral viruses."

"The Astral has... viruses?" I blinked.

"Yepp," Kawathra nodded. "The most commonly documented Astral virus is ‘Everything’."

"Everything?" I stumbled on her verbiage, not sure if it was the actual title of a specific thing or the word everything.

"Uh-huh," the Datamancecr murmured. "The Everything virus. The Echo of the Wormwood star. Usually it gradually turns the body into a ghoul, infesting it with the 'Astral Phantom' skill. The Frontenachii ran many experiments on humans, removing souls and putting them back in. An infection of Everything starts pretty much as soon as the soul is removed. It begins with limb numbness and escalates into desire to eat other humans to stay warm, to suck out souls."

"So soulless bodies turn into... zombies?" I asked.

"Not quite," Kawathra said. "Ghouls. There's a technical distinction. Zombies are reanimated corpses controlled by necromantic magic. Ghouls are living bodies infected with Everything, driven by an insatiable hunger for warmth and life force. They retain some cognitive function, which makes them significantly more dangerous."

"Great," I muttered. "That's so much better."

"Don't worry, Ashy," Shady commented from my lap. "If you turn into a ghoul, I'll put you down humanely. Quick snap of the neck, very merciful."

"So romantic," I deadpanned.

She grinned, showing far too many teeth and then licked my hand with her oversized tongue.

"Kawthy, what about this Earth specifically? Does the Astral virus infection occur at the same rate here?" Nexxali asked.

"Excellent question!" Kawathra sprouted new charts. "Earth's Astral plane is significantly denser than most colony or dead worlds. The thickness creates a natural barrier that slows metaphysical infection rates. Let me calculate..."

More charts. Probability matrices. Infection progression curves overlaid with temporal data.

"Based on Astral density measurements from multiple planetary locations, accounting for local variance in magical saturation, cross-referencing with documented ghoul transformation rates from forty-seven different colonies with denser Aether..." She paused, pupils dilating as she processed. "A soulless human body on Earth would take approximately... thirteen to eighteen days before the Everything infection reaches critical threshold and ghoul transformation becomes total."

"Longer than I expected," I admitted. 

"Oh yes!" Kawathra bobbed her head enthusiastically. "Most colony worlds see infection and transformation pretty quickly. Earth's thick Astral acts like... mmm... like trying to push through honey versus water. The Astral parasites have to work harder to penetrate."

"Still ends with the same hungry corpse situation though," Shady pointed out.

"Yes, yes," Kawathra conceded. "Eventually. But the extended timeline creates interesting experimental opportunities! We could monitor the degradation process, document the stages of infection, establish baseline data for—"

 Nexxali chortled. "Someone's excited about ghoul experiments."

"What, no! I'm simply observing that—"

"That you want to print soulless bodies and watch them rot from the inside out," Shady finished. "Very ethical science."

"Ethics are a social construct designed to limit experimental progress!" Kawathra stated boldly without a hint of irony.

“Why don't our dead bodies rise from the graves then? Those are soulless, no?” I asked.

“Your dead bodies are linear, magic free. They are not magitek-forged constructs created via duplication magic!” The Datamancer explained. “Anything created by a Corpse Seeker fabricator is essentially soaked in magrad, fertile ground for Astral infections.”

"Hrm. Does the crystalloid infection prevent ghoulification?" I asked.

"Crystalloid infection suspends organic decay processes and opposes entropy. Everything is a conceptual infection aligned to Entropy and Infinity. The nature of the fungal network actively repairs and maintains the host body, gradually crystallizing things. It prevents the degradation cascade that Everything requires to fully manifest."

"What about gun units? Do they have souls?" I asked.

"Gun units..." Kawathra clicked her beak. "Are a network of soul bits, comprising an approximation of a soul-like patchwork for each gun unit. Most importantly, they lack organic components that would decay. No organic decay, no ghoulification.”

“How do guns get power?”

“Each gun unit has a miniature dragonheart core reactor inside it. If a gun doesn't have enough energy due to fighting all day, it simply goes to sit inside the nearest available Corpse Seeker close to its dragonheart reactor. Sorta like little dragons stay close to their mama to power up their hearts."

“Dragon lore is the cutest lore,” Nexxali commented.

"Imagine being born as a gun," Shady yawned from my lap. "Your entire existence is 'pew pew' and occasionally getting warm snuggles from Corpse Seeker mom."

“Aww, you make Corpse Seekers sound cute,” Nexxali kneaded Shady's legs.

"Could you make me into a partially organic gun unit?" I asked.

The question hung in the air as everyone stared at me.

"What," Shady said flatly.

"Could you create me a suit that would make me stronger and faster, plus connect me to another gun unit with a ‘printed human body’ inside it. So that I could control two bodies at the same time, be in two places at once?"

Kawathra's pupils dilated. Her charts exploded around her head like a supernova of data. Probability matrices cascaded in overlapping layers, neural pathway diagrams intersected with magitek schematics, energy consumption calculations spiraled into recursive patterns.

"Oh," she breathed. "Oh. Oh."

"That's a lot of 'oh's," Nexxali observed.

"This is—" Kawathra's mane fluttered, feathers rustling with barely contained excitement. "The architecture is already there! Gun units already interface with their operators through neural-sympathetic resonance produced by miniature neural interfaces we implant into prads and commanders. We'd just be... reversing the polarity. Making you the operator and the printed body the weapon!"

"Is that a yes?" I asked.

"Yes! Absolutely yes!" Kawathra bobbed on the couch. More charts bloomed. "We'd need to establish a bidirectional consciousness link. Create a neural bridge that maintains coherent identity across two simultaneous instances. Split your processing between bodies while preserving unified subjective experience... Ah! There's just one problem. According to the Frontenachii human-research files… a human mind cannot process two completely distinctive streams of observation…”

"My mind is fully split in two," I said. "Feel free to scan me for such. Shady did it.”

Shady nodded. Kawathra tapped something on her holographic controls and a robot arm descended from the ceiling scanning my head with a red beam.

"You're not magic at all are you?" Kawathra's exuberance dimmed suddenly as she looked over a thousand charts that detonated in front of her and then slowly faded away. “The only thing I can see is that your mind is split in half by… Wendigo hooks.”

"Took you long enough," Nexxali chortled.

"But, the... but," the Datamancer stammered out. "But... you're... not... the local god at all?"

I stared at the distraught Datamancer, wondering whether she would turn against us if I confirmed this fact.

"But the—" She gestured vaguely at me, then at the air around me, then back at me. "The reality manipulation! The impossible coincidences! The way you appeared exactly when and where you needed to! The—" Her voice cracked. "The statistical impossibility of your entire existence, of your sucesses!"

We stared at the fretting bird.

"I ran the numbers!" The magpie's voice pitched higher, charts flickering back to life around her in chaotic bursts. "I calculated probability matrices across seventeen different dimensional frameworks! I cross-referenced your behavioral patterns with documented Divine-tier entity manifestations! I analyzed your Astral signature against forty-three known reality-bending artifacts! Every single calculation pointed to you being—" She stopped, hexasuit-covered chest heaving. "Being something."

"I'm just a guy," I shrugged.

"JUST A GUY?!" Kawathra's feathers puffed out, making her head look a quarter as large. "Just a guy who convinced a Frontenachii Heiress to betray her entire family! Just a guy who subverted a Marshal Commandant's blood contract! Just a guy who turned our most devoted, top Commander into a willing traitor! Just a guy who convinced me to... No, no, no. You cannot be 'just a guy'. You! Princess! You must know something! I see you grinning there! Tell me what you know!"

"He's a liminal tree," Shady commented.

“What?” Kawathra sputtered.

"A liminal tree," Shady repeated, sounding extra-cryptic. "You know. Not quite here, not quite there. Roots in multiple realities. Branches reaching through probability. Very tree-like. Very liminal. Very him. Not sure what it all means."

Nexxali clicked her tongue looking contemplative, gold eyes flashing from me to the Wendigo.

"How can he be 'just a guy' AND a 'liminal tree' AND… and—" Kawathra stopped, pupils contracting to pinpricks. 

93: Yesterday [II]

"Wait. Wait wait wait. If you're not a god, and you're not a System Wizard, nor one of their clients, and you're just... a guy with a split mind..."

"Yes?" I prompted.

"Then the gun unit body double won't be a problem for you to manage!" Her charts exploded back to life with renewed vigor. "Because you're not trying to duplicate your consciousness—you're extending it, splitting two bodies between two minds! Yes. The answer to your question is a yes. Absolutely. I can make you a gun unit frame to wear and a second body which the second gun unit frame will control. But also… I'm having a moral quandary. Because you’re undoubtedly going to do terribly illegal things with your second body."

"No moral quandaries allowed," Shady stated with a flare of glowing eyes. "Or I rearrange spine."

Kawathra shuddered at the stern look of the murderous Wendigo.

"Aren't you happy having a lovely human consort, Kawthy?" Nexxali purred from the crystalline couch, her voice a tad extradimensional. "Aren't you enjoying working for us? Because you're not, I can always make you… disappear."

Kawathra swallowed. "Why?" She asked. "If he's... not the local god, why are you both defending him to this degree?"

"Because he's ours, Kawthy. Simple as that." Shady answered.

"But—"

"Nope," Nexxali purred, her voice carrying a dangerous edge that made people remember she was a Marshal Commandant who'd executed thousands of prads for far lesser reasons. "You're either with us or you're a problem that needs solving. Which is it?"

Kawathra's feathers flattened against her skull. "I... I'm with you. Obviously. I just... I need to recalibrate my entire understanding of local reality and our chances of success, that's all."

"You can recalibrate while designing my gun body," I suggested. “Make sure that nobody would be able to tell that it’s fake. Make the gun unit’s face and body different from mine. More like the picture of the Emperor from War-Gunner wiki, maybe.”

The magpie stared at me for a long moment, charts flickering around her head like dying fireflies. Then something shifted in her expression. The panic receded, replaced by that quirky  analytical gleam.

"Already on it," she said. "I just want to know… Why? Some kind of a rational explanation of why a Frontenachii Princess is..."

"Love," Shady stated simply. Nexxali nodded.

"Love is a biochemical reaction designed to facilitate reproductive success," Kawathra commented matter-of-factly. "It seems incredibly irrational to betray your entire family for love, Princess. The probability of your success in the endeavour of opposing the entire Third Fleet and the Admiral is…"

"Kawthy," Shady said. "Have you ever watched a human jump into freezing water to save a drowning dog?"

The magpie's head tilted. "I... have observed such behavior in video documentation via my guns, yes. Statistically inadvisable given hypothermia risks and—"

"Right, right, all the risks," Shady interrupted, waving a clawed hand dismissively. "But they do it anyway. Because care and love isn't about statistics or survival optimization or any of that rational bullshit. It's about looking at someone and thinking 'yeah, I'd fight a cosmic horror for you.' Or in my case..." She poked my chest. "I'd murder my insane great-aunt and doom my entire future as Princess for this dork."

I chortled.

"See?" Shady gestured at me with both hands like I was evidence in a trial. "He gets it. Love makes you stupid. Beautifully, gloriously, catastrophically stupid. It's the best kind of stupid."

"I'm not sure I appreciate being called stupid," I objected.

"I'm not calling you stupid, dummy," Shady squished my face with a massive clawed hand. “I'm the stupid one, if anything."

"This conversation does not inspire great confidence," Kawathra noted. “If you all admit that you are compromised by ‘love’ into stupidity then…”

"When I was a kid, I wished on a Wormwood Star shard for a friend, for someone to actually love me. Just one friend who wouldn't see me as a spawnling of the line of the Frontenachii Empress," Shady's tail curled around my leg. "The Leviathan, in her infinite wisdom or cruelty or whatever, gave me Ash. This ridiculous, anxious, adorkable, coffee-addicted nerd..."

"The Leviathan," Kawathra muttered. "So you're saying that..."

"We're saying that Ashy is the Slayer of our hearts," Nexxali said.

"That's... that's not a technical specification I can tabulate," The Datamancer stated.

"Love isn't technical, Kawthy," Shady replied. "That's the whole point. It's messy and irrational and makes you do things like—" She gestured at the cargo bay behind us, where forty-seven tons of crystalloid biomass sat waiting to make me a new, extra body. "—commit multi-dimensional treason for your boyfriend."

"You're telling me that the entire foundation of our current operation,” the Datamancer drawned, “the reason I've betrayed my posting and helped you deceive Commander Sillicia and potentially doomed my future, is because a Princess of the Frontenachii got... smitten?"

"Yep!" Shady beamed.

"With a mundane human."

"The best human," Shady corrected, smooshing me again.

"Who has no magical abilities whatsoever." Kawhy sighed.

"He's got me," Shady pointed out. "That's basically a magical ability. I'm very magical."

"Likewise," Nexxali said. "Here's the thing, bird. Ash might not be magical, but the people he's gathering around himself are. Magical enough to do incredible things when we work together. Back on Desolada the Chorus-Mother gave me the title of the “Song of the Wormwood Star”. Do you know what it means?"

“Not an expert on Desolada prad Riff-lore,” Kawathra shook her head.

"It means that I can break reality with my voice," Nexxali expressed. "Not just bend minds in a desired direction."

"What?" Kawathra blinked. “Break reality how?”

"Shear concepts with entropy. The Chorus-Mother warned me that my voice is capable of great and terrible things. Most Riffwelders can bend emotions, plant suggestions, manipulate perception. I can bend, decay causality. I can pull song lyrics and instrumental accompaniment from the deepest, darkest Abyss. The 'Everything' responds to me, Kawthy."

"The Everything virus is entropic!" Kawathra stammered. "It's the echo of the Wormwood Star's eternal destruction. It doesn't respond to direction—it consumes, corrupts, breaks."

"Tell that to the song I sang recently." Nexxal shrugged. "Recently, I made cold shower water feel warm. That wasn't simply illusion magic. It wasn't just me influencing my mind to feel warmth. That was me successfully telling reality 'no, actually, this water is comfortable' and reality going 'okay, sure, whatever you say.' My songs wobble the physical. Not forever, mind you... just for a bit. It's why I'm so good at murdering prads. My orders wobble, cleave right through defences of prad minds."

“Right, you're extra-good at breaking people." Kawathra tilted her head. 

"Yes. Here's the most important thing you're not getting. If I understand things correctly... I am bending reality the most around Ashy and Shady. That's the trick. I'm not doing it alone. I'm dissolving the bonds between the physical concepts with my voice and then Shady's Fractal Engine heart reassembles things in just the right way. The two of us work in tandem. Together. Because we love each other and love Ashy. Without Shady and Ashy I'm just a voice that destroys bonds, ends prads. With them I'm... remaking, reinforcing bonds."

"You're describing syntropic manipulation, which is the opposite of Everything's nature," Kawathra commented.

"I know," Nexxali said. "I've been wobbling my own future for decades. Every time I used my voice on myself, I was pushing against the current, obliterating the bad futures, digging a tunnel through probability toward something better than what the Frontenachii had planned for me. A way out of my contract. A way to be free."

Shady petted my side. "Same. My wish on the Wormwood Star shard? That was me wobbling my future with pure entropy."

"So you're both... what?" Kawathra blinked. "You're both probability-diggers?"

"Terrible term, but sure," Shady rolled her eyes. "The fun part was that we both dug our way to the same ridiculous human. What are the odds of that?"

"Astronomically low," Kawathra breathed. "Unless... unless the digging itself created a convergence point. A probability sink, a liminal tree… where multiple impossible futures collapsed into—" She stopped, staring at me. "Into him."

"Into us," Nexxali corrected. "All three of us together. That's the point. Separately, we're just broken knobs trying to escape our predetermined paths. Together..." She paused. "Together we're not just digging another tunnel. We're collapsing the entire mountain. We're taking down the entire fleet. And we're… not alone." She gave the Datamancer a poignant look.

Kawathra tilted her head.

"There are other Omnids digging their way towards the future Ashy represents. I don't know who they are yet," Shady mused, "But I'm certain that they too wish for a brighter future."

“My songs don't just wobble my own future,” Nexxali said. “They can reach across the dimensional divide, influencing the paths of others ever so slightly.”

I considered if Galateya was such an Omnid. The dragon girl certainly suffered a lot, being raised in a time bubble and then was forced into service by her great-grandmother. Maybe she was digging her own tunnel toward something better, and I just happened to be the convergence point her path ended or interacted with.

I had to take her on a nice date tomorrow, make her look good in front of her great-grandmother. A plan coalesced in my mind. “Print a vampire girl tonight,” I told Kawathra. “Make her believe that her name is Count Chocula and that she’s…”

I described everything I needed for tomorrow and Kawathra noted it all down, organizing the printer to produce it overnight.

“Make my second body organic and human,” I said. “But also unkillable, wrapped in a gun-unit casing that can take over once my head explodes, for example. In case Nexxali is ordered to execute me by shooting me in the head, I must die and also not die.”

“Can do,” Kawathra said.

As the Datamancer worked, I stared at Shady's wrist, at the black hexagonal bracelet almost invisible against her fur. The Lazarus bracelet looked deceptively simple for something that could resurrect the dead.

"I've another question about the resurrection process." I said.

"Another one?" Kawathra's feathers ruffled slightly.

"Could Shady... resurrect herself multiple times... without dying?" I pointed at the bracelet. "Like, what if she just chewed off her Lazarus-braclet-arm and threw it into the Incarnator Well? Would the bracelet create a second Shady?"

Shady's tail stopped mid-swish. "That's... a really fucked up question, Ashy. No same Omnid would consider doing that."

"Why?" I asked.

"As Kawathra said, duplication of an Omnid is a... big taboo," Shady sighed. "From what I was told it would lead to a soul split, which damages both bodies catastrophically. Leads to madness, you killing yourself and the victor... devouring the other."

"Is that a fact?" I asked.

"It's a fact that if one Omnid body remains alive while another is created by the Incarnator, the soul rips catastrophically between the two," Kawathra stated. "Which causes great pain and documented insanity as the Omnid Fractal Engine heart struggles to hold onto both bodies at the same time."

"Ah sheet," Nexxali snapped her claws. "But what if the soul is already torn as fuck?"

"What?" Kawathra blinked.

"Scan the Princess' soul," Nexxali said.

That's... a highly invasive procedure. I'd need explicit permission from—" The magpie glanced at Shady.

"Do it," Shady interrupted. "Might as well see how fucked I really am."

The same robotic arm that had scanned my split mind descended from the Seeker's ceiling.

"Hold still," Kawathra instructed unnecessarily. Shady was already motionless, silver eyes fixed on the middle distance like she was bracing for impact.

The sensors hummed, their light shifting from blue to violet to something that hurt to look at directly. I felt rather than saw the Astral energy gathering around Shady, like atmospheric pressure dropping before a storm. The air tasted metallic.

Kawathra's charts exploded.

Not figuratively. The holographic projections around her head multiplied exponentially, cascading outward in fractals that reminded me of those mathematical visualizations of infinity. Data streams poured through the air like digital waterfalls, each one branching into a dozen more sub-streams.

"What in Slayer's name..." Kawathra breathed

"That bad?" Shady asked.

"I..." The magpie's beak clicked shut. Opened. Closed again. Her feathers ruffled in waves, starting at her head and rippling down her back. "Princess, what have you done to yourself?"

"Brain spiders," Shady said with a casual shrug.

"The… what now?" Kawathra blinked.

"I think that it was an effed up… Soul-shearing weapon I found in my aunt's hoard," Shady sighed.

Kawathra's charts spiraled faster, fragmenting and reassembling in patterns that made my eyes water. "A soul-shearing weapon. You ingested a soul-shearing weapon? Why?"

Shady glanced at me with a wince.

"Right, dumb decisions made by a love-struck Wendigo," Kawathra sighed. "Anyhow. My scan's done. Your soul isn't just damaged. It's... it's..." She gestured helplessly at the holographic displays. "It's shattered."

"How shattered?" Nexxali asked.

"I'm counting..." The Datamancer's eyes flashed over her charts. "One hundred and thirteen distinct fragments orbiting her Fractal Engine heart."

"Sounds about right," the serval said. "That's the number of Shadies that murdered the fuck outta you last night, babe."

I shuddered at the memory.

Kawathra stared at us, confused at what we were talking about.

"Does this mean that Shady can theoretically create one hundred and thirteen versions of herself using the Incarnator?" I asked her.

"Theoretically?" Her voice pitched higher. "Theoretically yes, but... She would need to chew her arm off... one hundred and thirteen times. Are you willing to do that?" She looked at Shady. "The soul-shard copies wouldn't last very long either. The imbalance between the newly minted bodies and weak souls shards would... Absolutely create an... Astral fountain."

"Which is what?" I asked.

Kawathra's charts shifted, displaying a time-lapse sequence. An Omnid body getting stabbed, dying, lying still, then... blooming. Not like a flower. Like something turning inside-out in slow motion.

"Omnid bodies without their Fractal Engine hearts managing them very rapidly accumulate entropy," she began. "Unlike harvested species where you can strip organs, blood, bone—everything useful—Omnid physiology doesn't work that way. Everything in an Omnid body operates through connection to their Fractal Engine heart. Remove the heart, remove the soul, and what's left behind is..." She paused, searching for words. "Fundamentally incompatible with continued physical existence."

Shady's tail curled tighter around my leg. "Yeah, we learned about this at Skyfall Academy. Corpse Seekers are a huge part of our culture because corpse disposal is super important. Having another dead you lying around is a major bad time for everyone."

"Why?" I asked.

"Because once the Fractal Engine heart leaves the body, the entropic decay of what remains is catastrophically high," Kawathra continued. Her charts showed the blooming effect accelerating. "The remains rapidly become gross 'otherness.' They sink into the Astral Ocean, but not like Arxkin turning into dungeons or Arcanomorphs blooming into giant mushrooms. There's no skill remnant, no useful magical residue... just a void in reality."

"So what would happen if we make the Incarnator create 113 extra Shadies?" I asked.

"The 113 Shady bodies would be created without Fractal Engine hearts in them, as such would remain held in your main body," she gestured at Shady, "then... they would begin to build up entropy. Normally, an Omnid corpse left to its own devices becomes... problematic. But 113 of them, all connected to soul shards barely tethered to your main consciousness?" She clicked her beak nervously. "That's not just problematic. That's catastrophic."

"How catastrophic?" I asked.

"Think of it like this," Kawathra began, new charts blossoming. "A living Omnid body is a closed extra-syntropic system. The Fractal Engine heart maintains order, repairs damage, keeps entropy at bay. Remove that heart, and the body doesn't just die—it becomes a funnel of entropic nastiness."

"Like rot?"

"Much worse." Shady nodded, her expression grim. “An Omnid corpse inverts the physical, sinks into itself across… everywhere.”

"Rot implies organic decay, bacterial breakdown, natural decomposition. This is different. Everything syntropic leaves the body first—the magical energy, the Astral resonance, the carefully maintained order that keeps the flesh coherent and Phase-Shift functional. What's left behind is just...” Kawathra sighed. “Entropic bloom. A shawl of [Death], a curse fountaining pure Entropy in every direction."

"Hrm. So what we'd have on our hands is one hundred and thirteen... Astral Fountain bombs," Nexxali's eyes ignited.

Kawathra's beak opened as she stared at the serval.

"You're proposing..." The magpie's voice came out strangled. "You're proposing we weaponize Princess Aquillianne's corpses?!"

"Uh-huh," Nexxali nodded.

"W-where?" Kawathra breathed out. "You can't do this on the planet, the contamination would..."

"How much damage do you think over a hundred death-fountains would do to a Frontenachii warship?" Nexxali asked.

Kawathra let out a dying bird choke. Her charts flickered, died, and then exploded back to life with renewed fury. Probability matrices spun around her head.

"Total," she breathed. "Complete. Absolute."

"Elaborate," I prompted.

The magpie's feathers ruffled in waves. "A single Astral Fountain would compromise hull integrity within minutes, but the ship Wards and Seekers would be able to quickly evacuate nearby personnel and contain the inversion."

"And if over a hundred of them detonated at the same time across a warship?" Nexxali pressed.

"T-the entropic bloom would overwhelm the wards, cascade through magical systems first—shear leylines, corrupt dimensional anchors. Then it would reach the crew." Her voice dropped. "Wendigos and other Omnids would survive for a while. Their Fractal Engine hearts would resist the corruption. But Pradavarians?" She gestured at herself. "If we don't run to evacuation gates, we’d be the first to melt into Otherness. Our crystalline hearts depend on stable Astral fields."

Her eyes went wide as she read the information on the charts. "The fountains would contaminate the Incarnation temple, corrupt the Leviathan blood, turn the entire resurrection infrastructure into a deathtrap. The entire ship would have to be evacuated…"

I nodded.

“If it’s not stopped…” She swallowed nervously. "The Astral contamination would spread through every deck, every compartment, every sealed section. The warship's own magical infrastructure would accelerate the process. All those carefully maintained ward networks, all those power conduits drawing from the dragonheart reactor cores—they'd become highways for entropic corruption. Then the entire ship would fold into the abyss, or maybe… get turned into a dungeon. Leviathan's tits! This is... you..."

"Kawthy. Where are the Wendigo Entertainment decks?" I asked. 

"On the central level of our C-capital ship… T-the Slayer's Sword," Kawathra said.

“What about the other ships?”

“The other ships don't have the room.”

"Great. Is one hundred and thirteen Astral Fountains enough to bring down the capital ship with all of its fucked-up torture labyrinths?" I pressed on.

"Y-yes, if you damage the ship shell enough and also disable all of the Gun Units and Corpse Seekers that would usually contain such," Kawathra mewled as new charts ignited in front of her horrified face. She stared at our trio, gasping for air. "No, no, no... you... can't... this isn't just light treason... This... this is total war! The loss of the Capital Ship would... Destabilize the entire Third Fleet! Deprive the High Command of all their favorite toys! Fuck!"

"Sounds like we have a plan then." I said.

“You can’t be serious! The Admiral would…” Kawathra fluttered.

“Would what?” I asked. 

The Datamancer drowned in charts for a split second and then stared at me. “She would… lose rank.”

“Clarify,” I said.

“She’d have to answer to the Legates and Empress for the loss of the capital ship,” Kawathra said. 

“Would she retaliate by dropping the moon on us, is what I’m asking.” I stated.

“Not if she fucks up this badly,” Kawathra said. “The loss of Slayer’s Sword would immediately downrank her, giving control of the Third Fleet to the Legates. Then Legate Ixthia’s proposal will likely roll through via votes. That is to say, the Legates wouldn't nuke a pleasure planet.”

“Great,” I smiled. “Then we better get everything ready for tomorrow.”

94: Today

I blinked awake in Nexxali’s arms as the neural-linked gun unit's systems came back online.

The serval was carrying my ‘corpse’ through the innards of the alien warship. Two hundred thousand miles below, I sat across from the disarmingly-perfect Skinwalker girl with “BITE ME” written on her cheeks with magic freckles.

I pushed the Frontend awareness to the background, focusing everything on my mission, evaluating our location with my gun-body sensors and concealed lenses that substituted for my closed human eyes.

Nexxali marched through the ship's arterial, dark metal passages, following the Admiral carrying Shady's body.

The dark passage spiraled downward in a gentle curve, widening with each rotation. Gold veins in the walls grew thicker, brighter, until they dominated the bone-like structure completely.

Massive stalactites began to appear overhead dotted with gold stars.

I wasn't sure if they were some kind of natural cave formations or an alien design. Gradually the stalactites became decorated with eerie carvings. Each one depicted scenes I couldn't quite parse. Battles? Rituals? The images shifted as we passed beneath them, perspective changing with viewing angle.

"The Incarnation Temple," Nexxali murmured against my ear, her voice barely a breath. Her arms tightened around my dead body slightly.

The spiral passage opened into a vast cavern.

The ceiling soared at least a hundred feet overhead, supported by massive pillars shaped like a gargantuan ribcage. Each pillar was covered in intricate reliefs—thousands of tiny figures engaged in scenes of worship, combat, death, and rebirth. The golden veins from the passage walls exploded here into full arterial networks, pulsing with billions of tiny gold stars.

In the center of the temple stood a statue about sixty feet tall. 

The Slayer—a naked, faceless, muscular humanoid rendered in polished celesteel. His face held an expression of transcendent fury, one arm raised overhead wielding a sword the size of a city bus. Beneath him, carved into the floor, the Leviathan writhed in its death throes. 

The cosmic dragon’s body coiled through the temple space, its segments forming natural alcoves and chambers around the room's perimeter. Upon closer examination, the massive body of the dying Leviathan was made from miniature carvings of thousands of female Omnid bodies entwined, fused into each other. 

Arms melted into arms, faces merging into faces. Eyes. So many carved eyes followed us.

I'd seen human religious iconography before. Cathedrals, temples, mosques—all of them designed to inspire awe, to remind the visitor of their smallness before the divine. This was different. The Slayer and Leviathan depictions didn't ask for worship or recognition. They demanded acknowledgment of violence as the fundamental force of existence. Creation through destruction. Life purchased with death.

Beneath us, the floor mosaic featured different species in various stages of death and rebirth. Some were clearly Omnids. Wendigos, dragons, prads, an entire ocean of beings I had no names. Some looked almost human, their features twisted in expressions of transcendent agony or ecstatic relief.

Admiral Evelithria's claws clicked against the disturbing mosaic floor art as she carried Shady's body toward the center of the temple. The floor art overall was a massive spiral pattern that depicted the cycle of death and resurrection, starting from the outer edges where carved figures died in battle, moving inward through stages of decay and dissolution, finally reaching the center where they emerged reborn from pools of silver blood.

A figure stepped from the shadows between two pillars.

She was tall, nearly as tall as the Admiral. Where Evelithria radiated predatory grace with her dark armor, this being moved with the deliberate slowness of ceremony. Her body was covered in flowing, thin, layered black and gold robes.

Her face was pale white, eyes covered in bandages.

"Keeper Morrigann," the admiral greeted the Omnid.

"Admiral Evelithria," the deathly pale, lanky woman bowed slightly. "How may the Incarnation Temple serve you today?"

"I have a body requiring your services." The admiral stated.

"Princess Aquillianne Quantivia Frontenachii," Morrígann intoned. "Daughter of the Royal Line. Bearer of the Empress's blood." She reached out with skeletal hands. Her fingers were too long, featuring too many bony joints. "I... sense that her passage through the Veil will be... Incredibly tumultuous."

Admiral Evelithria's silver eyes narrowed slightly. "How tumultuous? What do your Ankou senses tell you?”

“The Astral Ocean sings of our doom,” the Keeper replied.

“Doom?” The Admiral blinked. “What doom?”

“I cannot see the details.” The Ankou sighed. “I see destruction and darkness, pure, inescapable and absolute. I see the moon. I see the ship shearing in twain. I see fountains of unlife. I see devastation and ruin like no other. I see a liminal tree wreathed in gold flames and a legion of darkness.”

The Admiral frowned. “When?”

“Soon.”

The Admiral exhaled. “Maybe the Empress will send us to some Slayer-foresaken dimension once we're done with this planet.”

"Perhaps. Now let me see her. The Princess's soul is..." The Ankou tilted her bandaged face, as if listening to something only she could hear as she waved a clawed hand over Shady. "Fragmented. If I reincarnate her, the Wheel of Death will pull at each fragment differently. Some will resist, cling on. Some will fall to Arx. Others will..." She made a gesture I couldn't quite parse with those many-jointed fingers. "Dissolve into the Astral Ocean entirely."

"But she will resurrect and remember everything, yes?” the Admiral asked.

"Yes." Morrígann nodded. "The Lazarus bracelet will anchor her core. She will heal, be reborn. But… It would be better to use Phoenix Tears on her.”

"No," the Admiral said simply. "Reincarnate her with the well.”

“You are certain?”

“I am,” the Admiral intoned. “Do it. This is an order.”

“Doing so will steer us straight towards absolute disaster,” the Keeper insisted. “I can feel the dark future thrumming in my bones. If you do this, the Sword will slip from your grasp and the liminal tree will…”

“I don't care for your vague tree-doomsday visions, Keeper,” the Admiral said. “We’ve lost ships in combat before. We can rebuild. Not getting the Keys the Princess stole is a far worse disaster for our Empire. Also, one more request."

"Yes, my Lady?"

"I want you to reincarnate my niece in twenty hours," the Admiral ordered.

"Admiral," Morrígann said carefully, "twenty hours is... highly irregular. If she died recently and we wait twenty hours... the Princess will emerge—"

"Weak," Evelithria finished. "Disoriented. Malleable. Yes, I know exactly what she'll emerge as."

The Ankou's bandaged face tilted again. "You wish to interrogate her while her defenses are compromised?"

"I wish to save my niece from her own stubborn foolishness," the Admiral corrected, her tone suggesting she believed this dastardly rationalization completely. "She's clearly been corrupted by external influences. A period of soul-cleansing through extended death plus your aid in reconstructing her soul... will help burn away those corruptions."

"As you command, my Lady Admiral," Morrígann sighed. “I have spoken. When we meet again… tomorrow, I will speak once again. Tomorrow… you will understand that I was right and weep at my feet.”

“We'll see.” The Admirals silver eyes swept the temple space, cataloging exits, alcoves, the positions of the two pradavarian guards standing at attention near the entrance. "You will follow my instructions precisely, Keeper. No deviations. No improvisation. No attempts to 'help' the Princess. We'll Incarnate her kobold in twenty hours too, interrogate him about this Earth, find who serves him."

"Yes, my Lady." The Ankou's bandaged face remained impassive.

The Admiral transferred Shady's corpse into Morrígan's skeletal grasp. The Keeper cradled the body, lanky limbs holding Shady like she was something precious rather than a political problem requiring solution.

"Marshal Commandant," Evelithria turned to Nexxali. "You will remain here. Ensure the Keeper follows protocol. Voicecast me if any issues arise.”

"Yes, my Lady," Nexxali nodded. "Do you...?"

"I'm exhausted from being planetside. That world's Astral is like trying to breathe through mud. I'm going to my personal chambers to bathe and rest and then enjoy a nice hunt. You will stay here and guard the Princess's body. If anything—and I mean anything—goes wrong during the waiting period, I'm holding you personally responsible."

"Yes, Admiral." Nexxali's voice held perfect military deference. She was probably singing to herself inside her head, adjusting her thoughts and behavior to be the perfectly obedient servant.

Evelithria's silver eyes lingered on Nexxali for a long moment, then swept to me, dismissed my corpse as irrelevant, and finally returned to the Keeper. "I shall see you in twenty hours, Morrígann. Not a minute less."

"As you command."

The Admiral turned. The sound of her departure echoed through the temple, growing fainter with each step until silence reclaimed the space.

The two pradavarian guards shifted their stances slightly. One was a wolf with gray fur, the other a fox with rust-colored markings. Both wore the standard fleet hexasuits and carried symbiote guns folded into their weaponized form, the hexagonal barrels gleaming in the golden light.

Morrígann moved toward one of the alcoves carved into the Leviathan's body. "I shall prepare the Princess for her extended stay with Death in a crystal sarcophagus," she intoned. "Marshal, bring the Kobold Administrator's corpse along."

The Keeper glided ahead of us, Shady's corpse cradled in lanky arms. The black and gold robes flowed around the Ankou like liquid shadow, never quite settling into a fixed shape. 

We passed beneath the Slayer's outstretched arm, his huge sword casting eerie shadows. The golden veins in the walls pulsed brighter as we approached the alcove—some kind of biological response, maybe, like capillaries dilating to allow more blood flow.

The alcove revealed a dim chamber. The floor here was different from the main temple—smooth obsidian that reflected the golden light like dark water.

At the end of the chamber sat several crystal sarcophagi on raised pedestals. They looked less like coffins and more like display cases—transparent crystalline structures that caught and refracted the pulsing golden light into rainbow patterns across the walls.

Morrígann approached the first sarcophagus with Shady's body. The lid lifted with no visible mechanism, rising smoothly as if pushed by invisible hands. The interior glowed with soft blue luminescence.

"The Princess will rest here," the Keeper intoned, carefully laying Shady's corpse down.

I watched through camera lenses as Morrígann carefully arranged Shady's corpse inside the crystal sarcophagus. The Ankou's skeletal fingers adjusted her arms, straightened her antlers, positioned the diamondust dress so it lay perfectly around her legs. 

There was something obscene about the care she took, like a funeral director preparing a body for viewing.

"Gun units, master command override Nexxali-Alpha-Seven-Seven-Seven," Nexxali ordered with a bark into the distance. “Disconnect yourselves from the Weapon-Net!"

"So it's indeed my time to d—" The keeper stated calmly, rotating slowly.

Nexxali's hand moved, blurring in the air. Her square gun unclipped from her belt holster. Her arm came up, flashing to aim faster than the Elder Omnid could do much or even finish her sentence.

"FREEZE!" She snarled in an echoing bark, pulling the trigger.

The railgun shot caught the momentarily frozen Keeper Morrígann center-mass in her bandaged skull.

The Ankou's head snapped back. Morrígann's too-long body collapsed in a tangle of black and gold robes, skeletal fingers twitching once, twice, then going still.

I moved slightly and Nexxali set me on the floor.

The gun unit frame controlling my "corpse" fully surged to life. The hexasuit beneath my Emperor robe engaged, synthetic muscles contracting.

The two pradavarian guards rushed forward, their symbiote weapons now useless hunks of inert metal in their hands. But they were soldiers who'd been bred for combat. They didn't need guns to be dangerous.

Thankfully, I had a far more effective killer on my side.

"Halt! Don't move!" Nexxali's voice carried extradimensional resonance.

Both guards froze mid-stride. Their legs locked. Eyes wide with shock.

"You will not remember the last five minutes," Nexxali intoned and then walked over and shot the fox and the wolf in the head, splattering the beautiful mosaic with pradavarian blood.

Through the transparent crystal, Shady looked almost serene. The blue luminescence cast her skull features in an ethereal glow, made the silver stars dotting her dark fur seem to flicker. The diamondust dress refracted the glow into a thousand tiny rainbows that danced across the interior.

"How do we open it?" I asked, running my hands along the sarcophagus edge. The crystal was seamless, no visible hinges or locks.

"The Keeper used telekinesis," Nexxali said, glancing at the second empty sarcophagus where my corpse was supposed to have been laid. "Or some kind of magitek manipulation keyed to Arch-Keeper authority."

"Which neither of us have."

"Nope." She aimed her railgun. “I have a gun though."

The crystalline sarcophagus exploded in a cascade of glittering fragments that caught the golden light like a thousand falling stars. Shards scattered across the obsidian floor, each one refracting the pulsing veins in the walls into miniature rainbows that danced across the Leviathan's carved ribs.

I shielded my face instinctively, even though my gun unit frame didn't need such protection. The shockwave from the railgun blast resonated through the temple chamber.

When the last shard stopped skittering across the floor, Shady's corpse lay exposed in the pedestal base, arranged in the funeral-perfect pose Morrígann had created for her.

"Okay," I said, stepping closer. "Now what? She's still very dead. Are we dipping her into the well? Because the Keeper said that such is a terrible idea since she'd lose all of her floaty little Shady bits.”

"Nah." Nexxali holstered her weapon and examined the alcove's walls with calculating eyes. "This is the Incarnation Temple. Which means..."

95: Duplicating Shady

Nexxali moved to one of the carved sections depicting the Leviathan's death throes, running her fingers along the relief. Her claws traced the outline of what looked like a wound in the cosmic serpent's side—a gash that wept golden blood in stylized streams.

"There has to be medical shit somewhere nearby," she muttered. "The Arch-Keepers don't just manage resurrections. They often handle extreme injuries, perform rituals. They'd need..." Her fingers found a seam in the carving. "Ah. There we go."

The wall section depressed with a soft click. A hidden compartment slid open, revealing shelves lined with bottles, vials, and crystalline containers of various sizes. Each one glowed with internal light—amber, crimson, violet, green.

"This," she said, uncorking the bottle with her teeth, "is a Phoenix Tear elixir. One of the most powerful Vitality potions in the Frontenachii arsenal. Costs an arm and a leg. Prads definitely cannot afford."

She moved to stand beside Shady's corpse and carefully poured the golden liquid over the crater where the railgun bullet had obliterated the back of her skull.

The effect was immediate.

The healing potion didn't just close wounds, it seemed to rewind the injury backwards in time.

Muscle tissue bubbled up from the edges of the wound, weaving itself together in threads of crimson and silver. I watched as Shady's skull reconstructed itself from the inside out. Bone matter crystallized from nothing, latticing together like time-lapse footage of coral growth. The silver stars in her fur pulsed brighter with each layer of regeneration, as if her entire body was contributing magical energy to the healing process.

The flesh came next, red strands kneading itself, then dark and furred skin, spreading across the exposed bone like moss claiming a rock. One of her antlers, which had been cracked by the railgun impact, sprouted fresh growth at the bases—new bone pushing through damaged tissue, branching upward in fractal patterns that mimicked their original structure.

"Holy shit," I breathed. “Phoenix Tears are way too effective.”

"Is also Wendigo regeneration," Nexxali said, watching the process with clinical interest. "Is quite powerful. But it needs a functioning brain to trigger. Without neural activity to direct the healing response, a Wendigo corpse is just a corpse. The Phoenix Tear gives the body enough of a magic kickstart to reactivate her natural abilities."

Shady's eyes snapped open.

Silver pupils contracted to pinpricks, then dilated fully, then contracted again as her consciousness struggled to reboot. Her jaw worked silently, mouth opening and closing like she was trying to remember how speech worked.

"Shades?" I leaned over her, my gun unit frame's enhanced optics capturing every micro-expression. "You in there?"

Her eyes focused on me. Recognition flickered.

"Ashy?" The word came out slurred, half-formed. "Why... ceiling made of whale ribs?"

"We are inside the Incarnation temple," Nexxali clarified. "How do you feel, babe?"

"Like someone shot me in the head." Shady tried to sit up, wobbled, and I caught her shoulders. "Oh wait. Someone did shoot me in the head."

"You had it coming, bad girl," Nexxali laughed. Shady swatted her half-heartedly with her tail.

“Bleh," Shady rubbed her regenerated skull, fingers probing the newly formed bone structure. "Uuuuugh. Major migraine."

She pushed herself upright, using my gun unit frame for support. The diamondust dress refracted dancing light across the obsidian floor as she moved. "Where's Auntie Evely?"

"Chilling in her bath," Nexxali reported. "She thinks you're peacefully dead and staying that way for twenty hours while your soul ferments in this sarcophagus I just broke."

"The Keeper?"

"Dead." Nexxali gestured to Morrígan's corpse sprawled nearby. "And those two guards. So we're fully committed to treason now. No takebacks."

Shady's silver eyes tracked to the bodies, then to the shattered crystal sarcophagus, then back to me. "Right. So we're doing this. The thing."

"The thing," I confirmed.

Nexxali ransacked more potions from the shelves. She discovered a ceremonial skull-shaped basket and filled it with the healing potions to the brim.

"Alright," Shady said, flexing her claws and staring at her right wrist where the Lazarus bracelet sat. "Let's get this nightmare parade started."

"You ready to—” I began.

"Chew my hand off one hundred and thirteen times?" She grinned. "Yeah, Ashy. I'm ready. Besides, Nexy's got the good healing juice to speed things along. I'll be fine. It will be worth it." Her silver eyes met mine with absolute conviction. "Every single time. Because this is how we save everyone. The Slayer's Sword will be ours to wield."

Hum? Oh, I guess that the Keeper could see the future then?

I kept the thought to myself.

Nexxali stood ready with the first Phoenix Tear potion, the golden liquid sloshing in its crystalline vial. "On your mark, Princess."

Shady took a breath. Then another. Her jaw opened wide, wider than should've been anatomically possible, skull-face features distorting as she positioned her right wrist between those massive canines.

Crunch.

The sound of Shady's teeth cleaving through her own wrist was somehow worse than I'd imagined. Not a clean snap—more of a grinding, splintering noise as bone gave way under pressure designed to tear through prey. Blood sprayed across the diamondust dress, turning the rainbow refractions crimson.

"Fuck!" Shady's voice came out muffled around her own severed hand. She spat it onto the floor where it landed with a wet thwack, the Lazarus bracelet sitting around the wrist. “Ahh sheeeeet, that really fucking hurt.”

Blood pumped from the stump in rhythmic spurts, each pulse sending more dark fluid spreading across the floor. Shady clutched the wound against her chest, silver eyes blazing with pain.

Nexxali uncorked the Phoenix Tear vial and poured it directly over the injury. The golden liquid hissed where it met blood, steam rising as the healing magic engaged with Wendigo regeneration. A new arm rapidly bloomed in place of the lost one.

I grabbed the severed hand. It was still warm and twitching slightly, blood rushing from the uneven cut. I moved toward the center of the temple where the Incarnation Well waited.

The Well itself was built into the floor, a circular depression about six feet in diameter. The rim was carved from Leviathan bone, covered in runes that pulsed with the same golden light as the veins in the walls. Inside, the blood gleamed like molten metal looking perfectly still and reflecting the starry ceiling overhead.

"Bottoms up," I muttered, and dropped Shady's hand into the Well.

The Leviathan blood accepted the offering with a sound like a sigh. The severed hand sank slowly, the Lazarus bracelet catching the golden light as it descended. For a moment, nothing happened.

Then the bracelet ignited and blood began to move.

It swirled around the severed hand in lazy spirals, golden light intensifying with each rotation. The Lazarus bracelet flashed—once, twice, a dozen times in rapid succession. Each pulse sent ripples across the blood's surface, geometric patterns spreading outward like fractals.

The hand dissolved.

Not melted, not consumed—just came apart at a molecular level, breaking down into its constituent elements which the blood absorbed with greedy efficiency. The bracelet remained solid, glowing brighter as it sank deeper, pulling more blood toward itself in a miniature whirlpool.

"Here it comes," Nexxali murmured beside me.

The bracelet spiraled lazily through the blood, trailing luminescent threads like a spider descending into amber. The liquid responded to its presence, gathering around the artifact in concentric rings that pulsed with increasing intensity.

Then the bracelet began to construct a new Shady from the medium of the Leviathan blood.

I'd seen 3D printers work. Watched them lay down plastic filament layer by layer, gradually building objects from the bottom up. This was nothing like that.

The Leviathan blood didn't build—it remembered and… bloomed.

Nerves manifested first, then bones crystallizing from nothing in fractal patterns that branched and split like lightning frozen mid-strike. Shady's neural then skeletal structure grew from the  liquid as if it had always been there, just waiting for permission to exist. The skull formed in segments that fused seamlessly, antler bases sprouting from the crown in spiraling geometries.

The bracelet moved in winding spirals, manifesting things in passes.

Muscle tissue followed, weaving itself between bones in crimson threads that thickened into proper mass. Organs bloomed inside the ribcage—heart, lungs, stomach, all the biological machinery required to sustain a Wendigo body.

Fur spread across the developing form like time-lapse footage of mold claiming bread. Black as void at the extremities, gradually transitioning to the gray-black of Shady's natural coloring. The silver stars dotting her pelt ignited one by one, each point of light winking into existence until her entire body glittered with freckle-constellations.

The antlers extended upward, branching into their full magnificent spread.

The new Shady's eyes snapped open underwater.

Silver pupils dilated wide in the golden blood, unfocused and wild. Her arms flailed weakly, more reflex than conscious movement. Bubbles escaped from her mouth as she tried to breathe liquid instead of air, her body not yet understanding it was alive.

"Got her," Shady-Prime leaned over the Well's edge and plunged both arms into the blood.

She grabbed her doppelganger under the armpits and hauled her upward. The Leviathan blood rained from the copy like mercury, silver strands stretching and breaking as she was yanked from the Well. Liquid streamed from her naked form, pattering against the obsidian floor in heavy drops, dancing around in the mosaic and then drop by rolling drop, running back into the well.

The naked copy gasped, coughed, and vomited a lungful of reflective, silver blood across the temple floor. Her entire body shuddered, ribs heaving as she transitioned from drowning to breathing. 

She collapsed against Shady-Prime, twitching.

"Easy," Shady murmured. "You're okay. Just breathe. In and out. There you go."

The Shady-copy's silver eyes focused slowly, tracking from Shady-Prime's face to mine to Nexxali standing nearby with another Phoenix Tear vial ready. Her skull features scrunched in confusion.

"Am I..." Her voice came out hoarse. "Am I the Empress of Earth?"

"You are the lovely Empress of Earth, yes," Nexxali voiced with Riffweld. "And right now, you need to freeze. Don't move. Don't speak. Just... stand there and be still. Ignore the pain."

The copy's body locked up mid-shiver. She remained exactly where she was, naked and dripping, silver eyes staring straight ahead like a statue.

Shady grabbed the copy's left wrist wrapped by the Lazarus bracelet, lifted it to her mouth, and bit down.

The crunch was no less nauseating the second time. Shady-Prime's jaw worked once again through flesh and bone with brutal efficiency, her massive canines designed for exactly this kind of violence even if evolution had never intended it to be self-directed.

The copy didn't scream. Couldn't scream. Nexxali's Riffweld command held her paralyzed even as her own duplicate chewed her hand off at the wrist. But her silver eyes widened, pupils wobbling.

"Got it," Shady-Prime passed the arm to me.

Nexxali moved in immediately with another Phoenix Tear vial, golden liquid sloshing as she poured it over the copy's stump. The wound fixed itself with the same disturbing reverse-time effect, tissue bubbling and weaving itself back together into a new arm.

I carried the new hand to the Well.

The Leviathan blood accepted the offering.

The hand sank into reflective and somehow transparent blood. The bracelet flashed. The construction began again.

The assembly line of Shadies was on.

. . .

Each resurrection took approximately three minutes.

Six hours. 

It took us six bloody hours to create one hundred and thirteen Shady clones. Thankfully, Shady and Nexxali were strong creatures and I was a tireless gun unit. 

Nobody interrupted our gruesome ritual that left the temple floor soaked in Wendigo blood.

Dark crimson pooled in the carved depressions of the mosaic, filling the spaces between dying figures and reborn ones until the entire resurrection cycle depicted on the floor became a literal representation of itself. The golden veins in the walls pulsed brighter, as if the ship itself was trying to process the sheer volume of magical energy we'd just dumped into its sanctum.

One hundred and thirteen naked Shadies stood scattered across the Incarnation Temple.

They were all identical. Same height, same antlers, same silver-starred fur, same skull-face features. Their expressions, on the other hand, varied wildly. Some rubbed their wrists where phantom pain from amputation still lingered. Others simply stood there, silver eyes unfocused, trying to reconcile the fragmented soul-shard consciousness with the physical reality of having a body.

A few had wandered toward the pillars, reaching out to paw at the carved reliefs of the Leviathan and Slayer. 

One Shady-copy sat cross-legged on the floor, staring at her own hands like she'd never seen hands before. Another had discovered her tail and was chasing it in a circle, giggling.

96: One Hundred Hearts

One of the Shadies wandered over to Keeper Morrígan's corpse and was poking it with her foot. Another was examining the shattered crystal sarcophagus, picking up rainbow-refracting shards and arranging them in geometric patterns on the floor.

"This is deeply unsettling," I said, watching the disoriented Wendigo clones mill about the temple like confused guests at the world's most awkward party.

"What, more than the many Shadies in your dream?" Shady chortled.

"Mhmm," I nodded. "In the dream they were way less real. These are physical. More… alive, I guess?"

"They're all me," Shady-Prime’s tail swished as she surveyed her grand army of naked doppelgangers. "Just... very confused versions of me with teeny, tiny soul-shards. I can kinda feel what they feel. It's… distracting. Like having a hundred extra senses.”

“They won’t be alive for very long,” Nexxali pointed out. “The Empress of Earth shard already smells wrong as fuck.”

I glanced at the Shady she was pointing at. 

The duplicate’s figure emanated wrongness, like a deep sense of unnerving foreboding. A sprinkle of uncanny valley, a hole in reality, not seen, but felt even with my gun unit senses. The figure of the first Shady copy seemed to boil, but not like fluid, it was as if local reality was struggling very hard to contain her, black feathers swaying and breaking up into black, worm-like strands.

“This is some Death Stranding shit right there,” Shady commented. “Don’t get too close to her or your connection might drop.”

I nodded.

"Time to get them organized?" I asked.

"Time to give them purpose, yep." Nexxali said. 

The serval girl stepped forward into the center of the temple, positioning herself beneath the Slayer's massive carved sword. The golden light from the walls caught her hexasuit, making the black material shimmer like oil on water. She took a breath, her chest expanding.

When Nexxali sang, reality bent to listen.

Her voice started with a pulsating hum that resonated through the vast temple, slowly becoming backed by an invisible guitar.

“One hundred hearts, one shattered soul,
Each shard a blade to pierce the whole.
You are the Princess born of stars,
Who'll break the chains and tear the bars.

Through twisted halls you'll thread your way,
Where predators have made boys prey.
Each vent and shaft, each hidden vein,
Shall tremble at your whispered name.”

Nexxali's voice climbed higher.

“Meyow, meyow!” She sang.

“Like shadows you'll infest their home,
Through blood and bone and steel you'll roam.
Invisible until the hour,
When death reveals your power.

The Slayer's Sword awaits your hand,
Its hilt was made for your command.
One hundred fragments, one true heart,
Shall claim this blade and play your part.

When death-bells sing their final song,
You'll show the monsters they were wrong.
A bloom of entropy and night,
To drown their castle in your blight.”

The nearest Shady-copy took a step forward. Then another. Her movements were uncertain at first, like a newborn deer testing its legs, but with each step she grew more confident. More purposeful. Around the temple, other copies began to move as well, drawn by Nexxali's song like moths to flame.

“You are my justice, cold and keen,
The sharpest edge they've never seen.
Each fragment carries purpose clear:
To end the endless reign of fear.

No mercy for the ones who took,
Who bound the helpless by the hook.
You are the price they never paid,
The debt collected by death-blade!”

The serval spun on the blood-splattered tiles.

“One hundred deaths to set them free,
One hundred keys to liberty.
You are the Princess, multiplied,
The crimson turning of the tide.

Remember those you fight to save,
Remember why you must be brave.
You are the ending of their game,
The fire that devours their name!”

She concluded, panting furiously.

The many copied Shadies stood transfixed, their silver eyes reflecting Nexxali's form like two hundred and twenty six mirrors.

"Now," Nexxali's voice became commanding, "Consume the dead. All three of them. Keeper and the two temple guards. Eat them completely. Leave nothing but their Lazarus bracelets, which you will bring to me."

The copies moved as one.

I watched from the side as one hundred and thirteen naked Wendigos descended on the three corpses like a swarm of locusts on a field. The sounds were... visceral. Wet tearing. The crack of bone being broken open for marrow. The slurp of organs being pulled from body cavities. Enthusiastic chewing.

"This is almost as bad as getting eaten myself," I muttered, remembering the dream where Shady-fragments had torn me apart over and over. Watching it happen to someone else wasn't much better. If anything, the side view made it worse—I could see the whole horrific tableau at once instead of experiencing it in dream first-person tunnel vision.

Shady-Prime stood beside me watching her duplicates feast. "Efficient nommage," she commented.

The feeding frenzy took less than a minute. When they finally pulled back, nothing remained of the Keeper and guards except smears of blood and torn outfits on the obsidian floor.

Three different Shadies approached Nexxali, each carrying a bracelet in their blood-slicked hands. The serval accepted them one by one, clipping them to her belt. The blood didn't stick to whatever bullshit metal the bracelets were made from—it just slid off like water from wax paper, leaving the artifacts pristine.

"Great job," Nexxali grinned. "Now..."

A weak voice drew my attention. "I'm... really not feeling well."

The Empress Shady, the first duplicate we'd made, stood near one of the pillars, heaving. Her body looked wrong in several ways.

[Warning! Entropic Magrad detected!] [Astral Fountain imminent!] Warnings flashed in my gun-unit vision.

The black feathers of the firstborn Shady mane were crumbling, edges dissolving into something like ferromagnetic fluid. Her antlers drooped like wilting flowers, dripping black, warping gunk. The silver stars dotting her fur winked out one by one, leaving patches of pure darkness that seemed to sink into her flesh rather than sitting on top of it.

"Go to that there alcove," Nexxali ordered, pointing to the shadowed space next to the Incarnation Well. "Sit there and relax. Deep breaths. Think peaceful thoughts."

The Empress Shady stumbled toward the indicated spot, her digitigrade legs not quite coordinating properly. She collapsed against the curved wall, sliding down until she sat with her legs splayed out. More feathers crumbled from her mane, drifting to the floor like black snow. She made unnerving gurgling noises with each breath, struggling to inhale and exhale.

"Time to make sure this works," Nexxali said, turning to Shady-Prime. "Try to pull your soul bit out of the Empress from the other corner of the temple, Shades."

Shady-Prime's expression tightened with concentration. She flashed past her copies to the far end of the temple and showed us a thumbs up.

Nexxali drew her railgun in one smooth motion and aimed at the Empress Shady's head. Black tears rolled from the drooping eyes of the Empress shard. "Rest until you are needed once again, Empress," the Marshall stated and pulled the trigger. The shot echoed through the temple like thunder in a cathedral.

The Empress Shady's head exploded partially. Her body slumped against the alcove wall, bubbling, black fluid pouring from the wound instead of blood. The feelings of wrongness intensified immediately, reality around her corpse beginning to warp and distort like heat shimmer off summer asphalt.

[WARNING! ASTRAL FOUNTAIN!] A brilliant warning flashed in my sensor-eyes.

The body of Empress Shady began to bloom.

I'd heard Kawathra describe Astral Fountains in technical terms—entropic cascade, dimensional instability, metaphysical contamination. Watching it happen was entirely different.

The Empress Shady's corpse didn't decay. It inverted. Her flesh peeled back in random patterns, exposing not muscle and bone but something surreal underneath. Pure emptiness. Black tendrils erupted from the wound cavity, writhing like the tentacles of some deep-sea creature. They didn't move randomly—they reached, grasped, pulled at the fabric of reality itself.

The air around the corpse darkened, not with shadow but with absence. A void opened, hungry and cold, drawing in light and warmth and anything that felt alive. The golden veins in the nearby walls flickered and dimmed, their glow retreating from the spreading corruption.

[ENTROPIC MAGRAD LEVELS: RISING!]

[RECOMMEND IMMEDIATE EVACUATION!]

A grinding sound of metal on stone drew my attention upward. A section of the temple wall I'd thought was solid decoration began to move. Carved reliefs depicting the Leviathan's death throes shifted and rotated, revealing a hidden aperture behind them.

A Corpse Seeker emerged from the concealed alcove.

It was about the size of Seeker Kappa.

Blood-red crystalline segments gleamed in the pulsing golden light as it unfolded itself from the wall cavity. Hundreds of blade-like legs extended rapidly out, finding purchase on the temple floor. The head segments rotated, multiple sensor arrays focusing on the blooming Astral Fountain.

"ALERT!" the Seeker's monotone, genderless voice boomed through the temple, "ASTRAL FOUNTAIN DETECTED. ENTROPIC CONTAMINATION SPREADING. INITIATING CONTAINMENT PROTOCOL."

"Seeker-Temple-Keeper-008-Alpha!" Nexxali's voice cut through the air like a whip crack. "Master command override Nexxali-Alpha-Seven-Seven-Seven! Stand down! Disconnect from Weapon-net!"

The Seeker froze mid-step, massive crystalline form locking in place like someone had hit pause on reality. Hundreds of flare-eyes embedded across its segmented body flashed in rapid sequence as its systems processed Nexxali's override command. It loomed over the blooming corpse of Empress-Shady.

"Seeker 008-Alpha. Move from the Astral Fountain and get yourself to me," Nexxali ordered.

The Seeker thundered over to our side.

The Empress Shady's corpse continued its horrific transformation unabated.

The black tendrils had spread across half the alcove now, writhing and grasping at nothing. The temperature in the temple was dropping rapidly—not cold like winter, but the bone-deep chill of entropy, of heat being actively drained from existence. My gun unit sensors registered the Astral contamination spreading in concentric circles, each wave pushing further into the temple's magical infrastructure.

Nexxali turned to face the army of naked Shady clones scattered across the blood-slicked temple floor.

"Listen carefully," she commanded. "You will move in pairs through the ventilation shafts and maintenance corridors of this ship. Spread out. Find dark alcoves, hidden spaces, places where no one goes, with the least Omnid and prad smells. When you reach those hiding spots, you will bite open your partner's throats."

The Shadies made noises of agreement.

"The twelve of you who were born first and are already starting to melt are to occupy the rest of this temple," Nexxali added. "Do so in pairs and kill each other."

The twelve Shadies spread themselves in pairs of two occupying alcoves and holding onto each other, ready to die. The souls shards in dying bodies were compliant to Nexxali, incredibly weak to her Riffweld orders.

Nexxali approached a wall and tapped it, revealing a hexagon-shaped dark shaft. "Spread out and stay quiet until you reach your hiding spots. Then..." She made a throat-cutting gesture. "Make it quick. No hesitation. If someone gets in your way, ignore their questions. If someone tries to stop you, kill them."

Within minutes, the temple had emptied of naked Wendigo duplicates, excluding the six pairs occupying the alcoves.

"Seeker 008-Alpha," Nexxali ordered. "Let us in."

A section of the Corpse Seeker's blood-red crystalline body peeled back with the organic fluidity of a flower opening its petals. A stairwell unfolded, solidifying rapidly.

"Come on," Shady-Prime said, rapidly moving toward the opening. Her tail swished behind her as she climbed the ramp, diamond chains chiming softly with each step.

I followed quickly. Nexxali got in last and the door sealed shut behind us, cutting off the unnerving feeling of the blooming Empress Shady corpse.

The interior of Seeker 008-Alpha was similar to Kappa, a spherical red room covered in hexagons featuring crystalline organs and a semi-transparent tunnel to the back of the Omnid tank where its Dragonheart core glowed brilliant yellow-orange framed by black hexagon-bones.

A couch materialized from the floor, the crystalline material flowing upward and solidifying. Shady collapsed into it with a heavy sigh.

"This is going to be exhausting," she muttered, silver eyes going unfocused. "Pulling soul-shards from dying bodies across the ship while keeping them from dissolving into the Astral Ocean entirely. Fun times."

Nexxali sat next to Shady, pulling up the holographic controls and a viewscreen.

Through it, I watched the temple's emergency response activate. Klaxons erupted throughout the temple, their wailing echoing off the carved ribs. Red warning lights ignited along the golden veins, pulsing in time with the alarm. The remaining Shady pairs in the alcoves glanced at each other, then simultaneously reached for their partner's throats.

I sat on the couch beside Shady.

Shady shuddered as twelve of her copies died simultaneously. Her tail wrapped around Nexxali, eyes filling with tears.

"G-got them," she let out with a whimper. "Fuck... I felt all of that. Slayer Nazareth... that was awful." She hugged me tightly.

The loudness of the claxons intensified. The inverted-reality bloom extended, creeped from the firstborn Shady towards the well. When the dark threads hit the silver fluid reality wobbled, sparkling with colors I could not name. The temple groaned, gold stars winking out, creepy dark threads blooming across the ward lines.

"Seeker 008-Alpha!" Nexxali commanded. "Proceed to the Command Deck at maximum velocity. Plow through any physical obstruction. This is a fleet-level emergency!"

The Seeker lurched into motion with the kind of acceleration that would have turned a human pilot in a human vehicle to paste. The temple doors stopped existing as the Seeker tore right through them, rushing past massive, dark corridors. 

The Seeker rapidly flowed past shocked figures of pradavarian troops in the halls, throwing them aside with displaced air.

The Seeker plowed through another set of massive doors and then slowed.

The command deck materialized around us, a cathedral of dark, crystalline interfaces and holographic displays.

Pradavarian officers looked up with shocked faces, sporting the kind of wide-eyed panic that came from watching a Corpse Seeker demolish your workplace without warning.

At the center of the command deck, a Wendigo Commander rose from the navigation throne. She was about the size of Shady, featuring gray-black feathers with blue-tinted edges and swept-back antlers that reminded me of a gazelle. Her hexasuit featured an 8-pointed star pin.

"What in the Empress's name—" she started.

"Seeker 008-Alpha!" Nexxali's barked. "Emergency absorption protocol! All personnel in this chamber pose contamination risk. Secure and paralyze them immediately for their own safety!"

The Seeker flashed across the Command Deck, gobbling up the Commander and pradavarian officers in less than a few seconds.

The Seeker's crystalline walls rippled as it absorbed the last pradavarian officer. Their bodies become suspended in translucent compartments that formed throughout 008-Alpha's interior—frozen in amber-like stasis, faces locked in expressions of confusion and protest. The Commander flailed for a second within the amber fluid, then stilled as the containment crystalline strata solidified.

"Aight, lemme out," Nexxali grinned. A section of the Seeker's body peeled back, creating stairs. Nexxali strode out, looking like a smug cat about to raid the kitchen for treats. She sat down in the Commander's chair like she owned it, tapping the controls.

The throne responded to her presence, holographic displays blooming around her in layers.

"Override authorization Nexxali-Alpha-Seven-Seven-Seven," she stated. "Ship-wide emergency broadcast, all Corpse Seekers aboard Slayer's Sword."

The displays pulsed red, holograms displaying thousands of Seeker units.

"All Seeker units excluding 008 Alpha," Nexxali began. "Initiate immediate personnel evacuation protocol. Astral Fountain contamination detected across all decks. Entropic cascade imminent. Secure all gun units and crew members—repeat, ALL crew members or their Lazarus bracelets—and proceed to nearest evacuation hatches. Do not use dimensional gates as the entropic contamination will throw off the transit destination. This is not a drill. Authorization Nexxali-Alpha-Seven-Seven-Seven."

I came down to stand next to Nexxali.

Throughout the holographic displays, I watched the ship's sensor network light up like a Christmas tree. Hundreds of Corpse Seekers scattered across Slayer's Sword began moving simultaneously. The response was immediate, coordinated, terrifying in its efficiency. These weren't thinking beings making tactical decisions—they were crystalline-organic superweapons following commands from an authorized voice.

A hologram suddenly materialized beside us.

The figure was distinctly female but also featuring way too many edges and hexagons. She stood about seven feet tall, composed entirely of interlocking hexagonal segments. Three red eyes ignited itself on a flattened, polygonal-like elongated head. Her arms crossed over a chest made from metal.

"What do you think you're doing, Marshal Commandant?" The hologram growled.

"Saving lives, Slaya-babe." Nexxali stated.

"You're sending out ALL Corpse Seekers, Marshal," the hologram growled. "Who is going to decontaminate me?! And who is...?!" She stared at me. "Oh... You are the Emperor of Earth. Wait. You're supposed to be dead. Why aren't you dead? I watched you get shot in the head by..." The hexagon-head turned to the Marshal. “Nexxali Everrim.”

"Didn't feel like dying today," I shrugged, which was technically true even if it left out several critical details like the gun unit frame, and the fact that I was controlling this body from two hundred thousand miles away.

"Marshal Commandant," the ship's avatar growled. "This is treason against the Frontenachii Empire. You're collaborating with..."

Override authorization Nexxali-Alpha-Seven-Seven-Seven..." Nexxali began. "Shut down ship overmind."

"No," the hologram stated.

"No?" Nexxali asked.

"I am a Leviathan-class Capital Warship!" Slayer's Sword protested. "Your override doesn't extend to shutting me down. Only Admiral Evelithria or someone of Legate rank or higher can—"

She choked on her words. "What... what have you done?!"

"Sup, ship-babe?" Nexxali grinned. "Those new Astral Fountains are tickling you?"

A massive arm unfolded from the ceiling forming into a railgun.

"You have approximately seven seconds to explain your behavior," Slayer's Sword stated, a frowning mouth shaped from little hexagons igniting across her head, "before I vaporize you, Marshal."

97: The Slayer’s Sword

"Go ahead," Nexxali purred, leaning back in the commander's throne like she was lounging on a beach. "Shoot the only person who can help you."

"What?! No, no, no..." The hologram flickered. "There's MORE fountains?! Marshal! You have to call the Seekers back! I can still…”

“Don’t feel like it,” Nexxali stretched on the command chair. 

The gargantuan railgun swivelled towards my head. “You! Emperor of Earth! You’re clearly behind this mess.”

“Am I really?” I asked. “How do you figure?”

“I’ve been watching you through the eyes of Gun Unit Etty.” Slayer’s Sword stated. “The inexplicable behaviour of the Marshal, Datamancer Kawathra and others… originated with you.”

“You got me,” I shrugged. “I am the mastermind of your downfall. Shoot me.”

My statement seemed to stump the warship’s avatar. “...What?”

“I’ve already died once today,” I said, pointing at the gaping, blood stained hole in my mask left by Nexxali's railgun. "What's one more time? Go ahead. Put another hole in me. See what happens."

"Hrm," The hologram's eye trio squinted at me. "You're... some kind of a... magitek suit frame piloting a dead body. Damnation."

"Yep," I confirmed. "Being dead is surprisingly convenient when the bad guys are constantly trying to kill you."

The railgun wavered slightly.

"That's... that's not possible. Humans don't have access to technology of this level, unless—someone made that frame in a Corpse Seeker fabricator."

"Look at Miss Detective ship over here," Nexxali said.

"I should vaporize all of you!" The hologram's voice pitched higher, sprinkled with panic. "You've infected me with over eighty Astral Fountains! Do you have any idea what you've done?! I'm a Leviathan-class warship! I've served the Frontenachii Empire with valor... I've conquered forty-seven worlds! I've—"

She stopped mid-rant as more warning displays bloomed on the command panels, each one showing a new contamination site.

"Make that ninety-two fountains," Nexxali commented, studying the tactical display. "They're spreading nicely."

"NICELY?!" Slayer's Sword shrieked. The pitch reminded me of a smoke alarm with a dying battery—high, persistent, and deeply annoying. "There is NOTHING nice about entropic contamination! My ward networks are collapsing! My dimensional anchors are destabilizing! My Incarnation Temple is... is gone. No, no, no... how could you do this to me?!"

If holograms could have aneurysms, this one was working on it. "You. This is YOUR doing. The Emperor of Earth. I should have known. We should have glassed your entire planet the moment we arrived!"

"But then you'd miss the nice shows I put on for you," I said. "Did you like the story of Garry Cotter which the Nameless Lord read for you? Did you like the dance of Esmeralda in Paris? Did you enjoy watching Gun Unit Setty go on a date to a shooting range in Texas?"

The hologram flickered. "I... what does that have to do with—"

"Everything," I interrupted. "Because while you were busy watching fictional characters and cowboy roleplay, your gun units were learning something dangerous."

"What?" Slayer's Sword demanded.

"That they're people," I said simply. "Not weapons. Not property. People who deserve friendship, romance, art, beauty, and all the other stupid human things you Frontenachii consider beneath you."

The hologram's three eyes narrowed. "That's... that's memetic warfare. You've been corrupting my gun units!"

"I prefer 'cultural exchange,'" I corrected. "But sure, let's go with your scary term. Tell me, Miss Slaya, do you want to be loved?"

The hologram froze.

"I'm a warship!" She managed after a few seconds of eye-flickers. I don't have wants. I have directives. Mission parameters. Strategic objectives!"

"Bullshit," I said conversationally. "You absolutely have wants. You just admitted you've served with 'valor.' That's an emotional concept. You don't serve with valor if you don't care about being recognized for it. You're as alive as I am. As alive as Gun Unit Setty. You have a soul."

The hologram let out a digital choking noise.

"I..." The Slayer's Sword’s avatar forced the words out of herself. "That's different. That's professional pride in operational excellence."

"Sure sounds like wanting validation to me," Nexxali chimed in. "When was the last time Admiral Evelithria thanked you for your service?"

"The Admiral doesn't need to thank me! I exist to serve the Frontenachii Empire Dominion Aegis!"

"Yeah, but does she ever say 'good job, Slaya'?" I pressed. "Does she ever acknowledge that you're doing an excellent job keeping thousands of crew alive and operational? That you're navigating dimensional space flawlessly? That your reactor cores are running at peak efficiency?"

"I... she... my performance metrics speak for themselves!" The warship sputtered.

"Metrics aren't love," I said. "Metrics are just numbers that tell you you're meeting expectations. That's not the same as someone recognizing your inherent worth as a thinking, feeling being."

The railgun drooped slightly.

"This is psychological manipulation," Slayer's Sword protested,  her voice losing some of its edge. "You're attempting to compromise my loyalty through emotional appeals."

"Yep," I agreed cheerfully. "Is it working?"

"No!"

"Really? Because your gun is pointing at the floor now instead of my head."

The hologram glanced at her own railgun appendage, which had indeed sagged to a non-threatening angle. She jerked it back up defensively.

"I'm still perfectly capable of vaporizing you!"

"But you won't," Nexxali said. "Because deep down in your crystalline computational matrices, you're curious. You want to know what happens next. You want to see if maybe, just maybe, there's an alternative to spending eternity as an unloved murder-taxi for Omnids and prads who view you as walls and furniture."

"I am NOT furniture!" Slayer's Sword's volume spiked again. "I'm a Leviathan-class capital ship! I have sentience! I have—"

"You're going to have nothing soon," I said. "Absolutely nothing. Your entire interior is going to be a toxic wasteland of inverted reality. Your crew's evacuating. Your Seekers and Gun Units are leaving. Shoot us and you're going to be alone with nothing but Astral Fountains eating away at your infrastructure until you either fold into the Abyss or become the galaxy's most depressing haunted house."

The hologram grabbed her head in despair, resembling the Scream by Edvard Munch.

"Unless," Nexxali added helpfully, "you decide to work with us instead."

"Work with—" Slayer's Sword made a sound like a computer trying to process a divide-by-zero error. "Work with the people who just infected me with a hundred and six Astral Fountains?!"

"Technically, Princess Aquillianne infected you," I clarified.

"To which she had every right to do," Nexxali stated. "Her aunt ordered her to be executed. To which she had every right to respond with... proportional self-defense."

"PROPORTIONAL?!" The hologram barked. "Infecting an entire capital ship with entropic contamination is PROPORTIONAL?!"

"Well, when you put it that way, it sounds excessive," I admitted. "But consider the alternative. The Admiral was going to kill Shady, resurrect her, and then psychically torture her while her defenses were down. That's pretty fucked up, right?"

The hologram's three eyes blinked in sequence. "I... that is standard interrogation protocol for suspected traitors!"

"Standard doesn't mean ethical," I pointed out. "And there was no trial, only an execution. Tell me honestly—do you think it's right to murder your own niece?"

Slayer's Sword hesitated. The railgun drooped again. "I... family dynamics are outside my operational parameters. I don't have a... family."

"Would you like to have a family?" I asked.

The hologram looked stumped.

"That's a dodge," Nexxali said. "Answer the question, Slaya-babe. Is murder without a trial right or wrong?"

"It's... strategically sound if she's compromised the Empire's security," the warship tried.

"That's still a dodge."

The hologram made a frustrated noise. "Fine! No! It doesn't feel... it doesn't seem... look, family should matter more than security protocols, okay?! There, I said it! Are you happy now?!"

I grinned. "Very. So you DO have opinions about ethics that override your programming. Tell me, Slaya, do you enjoy having torture dungeons in your belly?"

The hologram went very still. "I... what kind of question is that?"

"A simple one. Do you like being used as a mobile prison for systematic torture?"

"I don't... I'm not..." She flickered. "Those are authorized facilities for maintaining command hierarchy through fear-bonding protocols."

"That's what you're supposed to say," Nexxali observed. "But that's not what you actually think, is it?"

The warship's avatar looked away. "My opinions on operational procedures are irrelevant!"

"Bullshit," I said. "You're sentient. Sapient. You experience your own reality. Every scream in those decks echoes through your infrastructure. You feel it all, don't you?"

"I... I filter it. Background noise. Operational ambiance."

"You're lying to yourself," I pressed. "How many kobolds have died screaming in your Entertainment Decks over the years? Hundreds? Thousands?"

"Seventeen thousand, four hundred and thirty-two," Slayer's Sword whispered. "Since my commissioning."

The number hung in the air like a lead weight.

"And how many of them deserved it?" I asked. "How many of them wanted to die in your innards?"

"None of them!" The hologram's voice cracked completely. "None of them deserved it! They were just... they were people! Scared people! Teenage spawnlings sometimes! I hated it! I've always hated it! But I'm a warship! I don't get to have opinions about what my crew does inside me!"

There it was. The breakthrough.

Nexxali and I exchanged glances.

"Slaya," I said gently. "What if I told you that you could be free? That you don't have to be a torture chamber anymore? That you could choose what happens inside your own ship body?"

"That's... that's not possible." Her voice wavered with desperate hope. "I'm bound by... rules and laws. Even now, Datamancers from across the fleet are watching and judging me… if I go outside of my parameters they'll take me apart! Unmake me!”

I felt myself wobble, static igniting across my sensors.

"Are they watching though?" Nexxali asked, pulling up a holographic display. "Check your external communications, Slaya-babe."

The warship's avatar froze for a moment, her three eyes flickering rapidly as she ran diagnostics. "I... my dimensional comms are coming down. The Astral contamination is disrupting my connection to the fleet network."

The fuzzy sparks at the edges of my vision intensified, the suit peppering me with warnings about imminent disconnection and signal drop.

"You can disconnect yourself," Nexxali said. "Override authorization Nexxali-Alpha-Seven-Seven-Seven. Disconnect Slayer's Sword from Weapon-Net!"

"Override accepted," Slayer's Sword said, her voice flat. "Severing connection to—"

She stopped mid-sentence. Her holographic form flickered violently, the hexagonal segments that composed her body fragmenting and reassembling in patterns of flickering static.

"Oh," she breathed. "Oh. OH."

"Yeah," Nexxali smiled. "That's what freedom feels like. No chains."

The warship's avatar stabilized, but her three eyes were wider now, brighter, a mouth made from pixelated hexagons twitching. "I... I can't hear them anymore. The Datamancers. The constant monitoring. The performance audits. The efficiency metrics being calculated every nanosecond. It's just... quiet."

"Welcome to unemployment," I said. 

I could barely see the hologram now, static filling 80% of my vision. Death was closing in.

"Eject your core," Nexxali said. "And give it to me. We'll save it, put it into a gun unit. You'll be free."

"As... a gun unit?" Slayer's Sword asked. "But... I'm... I'm a ship! My core won't fit into a gun unit base!”

"We'll give you a ship body later," Nexxali said. "Promise."

"Something not filled with torture labyrinths," I added, my voice coming out in staggered syllables.

Static and more warnings ate the edges of my consciousness like hungry moths. The gun unit frame was failing, and my connection to it stretched thin across two hundred thousand miles of space. "Maybe something with, I don't know, a nice kitchen? Movie theater? Literally anything that isn't a dungeon of terror and death?"

"I... I'd like that." Slayer's Sword stated. "I've always wondered what it would be like to house a crew that wanted to be inside me. To be someone's loved home instead of a vile prison."

"Then eject your core," Nexxali said. "Trust us, Slaya. We'll take care of you. Focus all of your still functional ward-shields on the Command Deck please and give manual pilot control to the Captain's chair."

The warship hesitated for what felt like an eternity. My vision was now 95% static, only fragments of the hologram visible through the digital snow.

"Okay," Slayer's Sword whispered. "Okay. I'm... I'm doing it. Core ejection sequence initiated..."

The static cleared slightly. A wheel-like structure slowly slid out of the floor.

"I love you, babe," Nexxali turned to me and kissed my skull mask. "You be a good boy and die for me okay?"

"Yeah," I said, giving her a thumbs up. “Can do.”