by Max Barry

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by The Supreme Ultimate Country of Kyoki Chudoku. . 25 reads.

TNP RMB Insanity: Walls of Text: Awakened From the Nightmare

Three weeks after the Nightmare’s end…
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The skyscrapers of Yoimono remained in ruins. Corpses still littered many of the streets, children and Chudokurens alike. It had been weeks ago by now, but there was no forgetting the horrors of the Nightmare. Amidst the carnage stood Tokiko Suou, clutching her standard issue pistol. Once, she’d been a tormentor of the army, then a diplomat. Now she was a survivor. And all survivors had their scars.

She stepped towards the field hospital. Most of the nation’s medical facilities had suffered enormously under the strain of the war. Shinrin District had been levelled, the great research centres torn apart or picked clean by invaders, save those which emptied their arsenals of biological weapons in a desperate attempt to hold back the Tengo advance. All that she had access to now was an abandoned bunker complex covered in tarp, with what remained of the country’s medics trying their hardest to alleviate each wound.

Tokiko had made her appointment, but nobody was spared the queue. Standing in line or sitting in fold-up chairs were countless veterans, countless survivors. She took a seat. On one side of her was a man with huge patches of red skin, an asthmatic wet cough pounding at his ribs. No doubt a member of the Ikari no Rentai, likely a victim of flamethrower tank combustion in need of a checkup. On the other side now sat a young woman with an enormous scar on her arm. The wound was yellow, covered in pus- an infection. No amount of air freshener could remove the smell of disease, the sickly scent of rot, the metallic taste of blood in the air. To do her part to try and fix it, she took out her can of daily rations and began consuming the minced meat within. Kayukizami was perhaps the least glamorous food ever devised, but it beat eating burnt rats.

Or, for that matter, people.

As Tokiko winced at the sudden burst of plant-mash in her meal, two men carried a stretcher through the queue, pushing others out of the way. The woman on the stretcher screamed and flailed seemingly at random, thrashing without control, but the restraints were enough to keep her from hurting anyone but herself. The diplomat averted her working eye when it passed her. She didn’t need any reminder of the grim fate of those left in perpetual agony by their accursed enemy.

By the time she finished her can, a man in a labcoat approached her. “Miss Suou?” She nodded. “Come with me, if you will.” She stood up, towering above the others. Her height had long been a point of pride for her. It had also led to her almost getting killed on numerous occasions. Tokiko followed the doctor to a small infirmary room. Within was an operating table, but something was off about it. The restraints were too tight, the arrangement too uncomfortable. “First things first. Your weapons.” The woman handed over her pistol, then retrieved two knives from her belt. “Two blades? A collector?” She shook her head. The man examined the second weapon. “This one isn’t standard issue.”

Tokiko pointed to her eyepatch. “One of the Tengos was kind enough to lend it to me.” She then pointed to the feline ears on her head. “It hurt, but I got an extra knife out of it. One for battle, one for keeping score.” The man had doubtlessly already noticed the shūkei marks that stretched from her forearms to her cheek. The self-inflicted tally was a record of her every kill, and she had quite the count.

“Ah, I’m sorry. Rest assured, their other parting gift will be dealt with best as possible. Please, lie down.” Tokiko obeyed. To comply, she was forced to crush her tail beneath her back. Agony surged, and she grunted under the pain. Cold metal soon clasped around her wrists, then her ankles, then her neck. As she felt it against her skin, she remembered what this was.

“This is a torture table, isn’t it?”

The man nodded. “How’d you know?”

“Used to be tormentor. Believe it or not, that stuff comes up when learning torture. Guess the supply situation really is that bad…” While she tried her hardest to be conversational, the truth was that she was terrified of what was to come. It needed to be done, of course. She wasn’t given those Tengo blighters the satisfaction of her continued suffering. She still remembered how they’d laughed and smiled as one of them had started to gouge her eye out. That hadn’t been the worst of it. It’d hurt. The transformation afterward from their tainted blade had hurt like hell.

“We’re doing the best we can. Now, before we begin, I need to know if you suffer from any medical conditions. Allergies, major wounds, CRAS...I see you have a lot of tally marks on you, and there’s the eyepatch to consider. Any infections from that?”

“Nothin’ but the thing I’m here to fix. No psychological issues either, before you ask. I’m sane. Trust me.” The man let out a chuckle at that. Sane...I guess so. Guess I don’t care so much about life and death anymore, but anyone would feel that after what we went through. I’m lucky, all things considered.

“If you say so, Miss Suou. Now, before we begin, I’ll be honest with you. This place isn’t as sterile as I’d like, so there’s a chance you’ll get an infection. We can’t cut too deep. The Tengokuren version of nekofication is more difficult to rectify than ours. Nerve endings and blood vessels are developed. You’ll be left with stumps for the rest of your life, including on the rear. We can restrain your body, but we can’t stop your breathing, so no muzzle to hide any noise you make. We can’t use anaesthetic without risking fatality through the procedure. We need you conscious. So this will be torture for you. Do you accept the risks?”

“I do.” I lived through that hell, I can persevere through this. It’s just a few cuts. Some deep cuts, yeah, but cuts all the same. I’ve survived cuts. Do it all the time. This’ll be easy. Surely. Won’t it? No conscious thought could overcome the growing dread as the doctor put in his surgical mask, bonesaw in hand. A woman, also dressed in doctor’s garb. She stretched out the first war, causing Tokiko to wince. It hurt, already, and they hadn’t even begun…

The doctor placed the saw in position. For a moment, cold metal touched against her flesh, and she recoiled in instinct- but moved nowhere. The restraints were designed to trap torture victims. She wasn’t going anywhere. There was no way out of this now. She had to endure. The doctor began cutting, and Tokiko could no longer hold back her rising scream. She felt her nerves exploding in torment, as though her skull was being ripped from her head, like her brain was being pulverised and ground into dust. Liquid covered her head, blood spilling, sinews snapping, agony surging, body writing, shuddering, thrashing and bursting with pain. Tears formed in her eye from the torture that was this operation, another scream coming forward. Finally, all of a sudden, the pain stopped. The cutting came to an end, a clamp placed to shove the wound shut. A torch was used to cauterise the cut. Bandages were wrapped around the wound. But she felt nothing.

“One down. Two more to go.”

Cold metal touched against her other ear, and she gulped. Another bout of screaming in agony, another living nightmare to endure. She recalled all those times agony projectors had struck her. This felt even worse. It was worse than the pain carving marks into her skin, of being stabbed in the eye by a Tengo, of the resulting transformation. She wanted her consciousness to end, to just pass out from the torture, but there was no escape. She was needed conscious, and so conscious she stayed, fully aware of the sensation of her body being ripped apart. At last it came to an end again, leaving Tokiko gasping for breath, her body shuddering yet forced to be still by the torture table she was placed upon.

The clasps opened. The doctor gestured for her to rise. She obeyed. “Please, lay down face-down on the table. It’s not designed for this, I’m sorry, but it’s necessary.” The tail...one more...and it’s over… She did as she was instructed. The wrong restraints were placed on the wrong limbs. Extra rope was tied around her legs to keep her lower side still. “You’ve done very well so far. Please try and keep still. It’ll all be over soon.”

With that, she felt new a new clamp pressing against her already crushed her tail. Panic filled her once again, heart pounding, ribs breaking. Her lungs emptied their air through her vocal cords, another scream, another agonised wail she could not prevent. She felt as though she were being eviscerated, her blood turned to lava, her insides ripped out. She felt blood in the mouth- the shouts and screams had made her bite her tongue. She barely felt it in the face of the overwhelming agony of a king being severed, of this torturous amputation. Finally, it came to an end, but only subsided. It wasn’t numb, like before. She felt the fire of the torch. She felt the crushing force of the clamp. She felt the gentle, painful touch of bandages wrapped around her tail-stump.

The doctor opened the restraints. “It’s over, Miss Suou. Please report to post-op.”

“Thank...you…” she whispered, not because she wanted to, but because it was all the speech she could now manage without trembling. Tokiko walked outside of the room, shaking, but smiling. It was over now. Their curse had been lifted. It had been a nightmare in its own right, but those accursed feline features had finally been cut off. It wasn’t complete. Stumps remained. But even so, she felt a sense of pride in her victory.

As she exited the complex, she passed a room filled with muffled screaming. Curious, she turned to face it. Behind the white shutters she saw only shadows. One was flailing on its bed, the other trying desperately to inject a needle. He succeeded, but there was no silence. No end to the pain. And as Tokiko passed back through the queue she’d seen at the beginning, she saw the sick and dying awaiting their agonising salvation. Great men turned to husks from hunger. Others who would soon have their own nekofication eliminated. Men with prosthetic limbs, or lacking entire arms and legs, skin grafts barely covering their burnt bodies. When she reached the street, the smell of death stuck with her. She turned to a nearby corner to see a child’s body left nestled against a barbed-wire fence. She looked in the heaps of garbage that covered the streets, and knew that it wasn’t just discarded food packets and overused tools that were soon to be incinerated.

Not everyone was as fortunate as she was.

For the first time since the conclusion of the Nightmare War, cameras activated in the centre of a military parade in Chuo District, ready to capture footage to broadcast to the entire world. Countless soldiers marched in uniform rows, many of them scarred. Akuma main battle tanks rumbled down the streets, the high-definition cameras capturing extra markings placed on the vehicles during the war by their operators. buildings nearby were still undergoing reconstruction, but vast crowds of ordinary civilians had gathered, assembled in lines. Troops in Zen’ei armour patrolled the area, with lines massing of Hostile Environment Brigade and Ikari no Rentai soldiers. A flight of Ganseihiro fighter jets soared overheard. Tanks lined up, each soldier getting into position. Civilians followed. Each of them was gathered before a towering stage, which the cameras focused upon.

A squad of Zen’ei stepped up onto the stage. Behind them, three military personnel took their places. One of them was a neko, her hair long as black as her ears and tail. Her rather exposed skin was covered in scars. This was Kurushimi, who commanded the Chudokuren army. Another woman stood upon the stage, dressed in naval uniform. Her dark blue hair matched her eyes as it swayed in the gentle wind, but perhaps most notable was her prosthetic leg. This was Sawagi, head of the navy. Finally, there was a woman with dark brown hair and eyes, who wore the uniform of an air marshal. This was Kaya Yoyoi, recently appointed head of the air force. Another group ascended to the stage, this time of three personnel. Two had labcoats. One of these was a scientist, white neko features obvious as he took position. Okura Chiyotanda, recently appointed intermittent head of science. The other was a woman with hair a vibrant green, and who wore both a pair of gloves and a face-concealing surgical mask. Naosu, Head of medical affairs. The other was more distinct, with fiery red hair and piercing yellow eyes, wearing black, mark-covered armour. Hanabi, head of security. Each of these Chudokuren leaders stepped to the respective side of the stage, as a pair of Gomon Hito guards ascended. The entire area became silent in anticipation as another figure ascended the steps.

She came into view. Her head was covered by hood, part of her cloak that was coloured the same red as fresh blood. Her purple eyes scanned the crowd. She reached up, pulling back her hood, and allowing her violet hair to flow in the wind. Upon her head was a pair of fake cat ears, a symbol which she still refused to remove from her attire. The crowd saluted in unison as she stopped stepping forward. For this was the Aozora Chiyumi, Supreme Overlady of All Reality, tyrant of Kyoki Chudoku and slayer of countless adversaries.

For a few moments, there was silence. Aozora made a gesture, and the masses ceased their salute. She adjusted the microphone and began to speak, her voice carrying a tone that infused desperation, confidence, determination and suffering into each of her words. Aozora wasted no time in shouting loudly to her nation.

KYOKI CHUDOKU!

Her call reverberated throughout the crowd. Even without a microphone, it would have been easy to hear. “It has been some time since I’ve spoken to the international community. I have been too busy here. Reconstruction has taken priority. For our country had been scarred by war and desolated by conflict against the so-called Heaven of All Worlds. They sought to turn our nation into their paradise, a playground of a sadistic monster who declared herself beyond divinity. Yet by our hand, and those of our courageous allies, that threat has been eliminated. We may be scarred. We may be damaged. But we shall recover, and arise triumphant as a bastion of tyranny once more. However, the damage done by the war is well known to the world. It is not that past suffering which has forced me to return to a personal international presence.”

She cleared her throat. “I have been informed that as our nation has clawed its way through struggle after struggle, each time overcoming every adversity, the world has once more begun a descent into chaos. Nations fight against treachery. Sinister forces seek to spread chaos. And in the midst of such threats, I believe that much of the world has developed the wrong opinion of the Supreme Ultimate Country. They believe us crippled. They believe us a power of little worth and little threat. This is a misconception I seek to rectify. For today, I will remind any attempted traitors, any seekers of world conquest and any agents of chaos across our world of the strength we possess!”

Aozora had thus far spoken mostly calmly, albeit without a weary undergone. Now her speech become more fervent, her terminology far less political and more personal. “Traitors! Defilers! Idiots who seek to spread chaos! I understand, in some cases, if you do not know me. I’ve been out of contact for a long time. I don’t know what you expect of one titled ‘Supreme Overlady of All Reality’. I do not seek world domination. I do not seek the destruction of all things. I seek only to safeguard the future of reality against all who may threaten it! Whether that be democratic idiots, or arcane abominations, or evil sorcerers, or natural disasters, or ceaseless conflict...it is irrelevant! Those who threaten order will be dealt with as is necessary.”

The Supreme Overlady of All Reality paused for a moment. “Some may accuse me of madness. I ask for them to try comprehend the suffering of this nation. Watch the war footage. Imagine how well you’d do in our position. Would you break? We did not. Our allies aided us. Our iron bonds of tyranny held us together. And through a will of steel, our enemies were eventually vanquished. I have slain countless enemies with my blade. Abominations! Traitors! Cowards! Children! I do not care how much suffering I experience, I will endure! That is my purpose. To protect all that which I care about from all that which seeks to distort or destroy it. Am I happy? No. No, I am not happy. Perhaps I will never be content. For it is hard to avoid paranoia when my allies are threatened! When my nation is at risk of assault! When abuse of magic may tear gashes in our world at any moment! I have lost far too much. We all have. That does not scare me. It only makes me ever more determined. So long as chaos exists, I will oppose it, until my own end.”

At this point, there was a flash of purple light. A scythe appeared in Aozora’s hand. “This blade is my weapon. It symbolises many things. Death. Destruction. Carnage. Torment. But above all else, it symbolises unity! Order! Strength! An unyielding will! To those who endorse freedom, I have no interest in attacking you. It is inevitable that entropy will take its course anyway. But I wish to say something to those who seek to undo order. To those who thrive in anarchy and seek to tear down the foundations of nations, to those who threaten my allies and my country, and to those who desire the subjugation of all beneath their own misguided bloodthirst...to you, I am a monster. And rightfully so. For I am the nightmare that sweeps away your hopes! I am the warrior who never yields and never surrenders! I am the incarnation of order and the embodiment of your terror! The slayer of dissent, the purple death, all of these are honours I have upheld. Consider what I’ve endured. Consider what I’ve conquered. Consider what I’ve overcome! And then, see your reflection in those images, those recordings. See yourself beneath a battle tank’s treads or engulfed in fire or left suffocating on toxic gas as the world turns red around you. That is the fate of all who bring disorder to the world. It is not pre-ordained. It is not some guiding destiny of the world. It is the merely the result of testing. My. Patience. That is my duty. To ensure order! To protect my nation! To oppose chaos, whatever form it may take! And rest assured. No matter my own struggle, no matter if I am wounded or tortured or broken or shattered outright, I will not rest in my responsibility! That much is my promise to the world. That much is my promise to myself. And I do not betray my promises.”

She raised her scythe into the air, her final words shouted with all her might. “FOR TYRANNY!

The crowd chanted in unison. “FOR TYRANNY! FOR TYRANNY! FOR TYRANNY! FOR TYRANNY!” The Supreme Overlady of All Reality allowed herself the faintest smile before she turned around, at which point the footage ceased.

Aozora Chiyumi carried herself forward. She could feel her body straining with every step. She was exhausted. Every day was spent up for hours past what should have been her time for rest. She didn’t even have time to bake anymore. All she could do was tend to her nation, deal with problems. The public announcement had been a brief reprieve, and even that had been a reminder. Countless veterans, all scarred by war, in a city still left partially in ruins. All of it was the fault of the most twisted parts of herself made manifest. It hurt to be reminded of that suffering every moment, it hurt to be reminded of the fallen and the slain and the wounded and those who’d lost their lives to hostile trickery. But an even more horrific fate had awaited some of her associates.

The reinforced doors parted, allowing Aozora entry. She was, after all, the Supreme Overlady of All Reality. Once, these rooms had been used to torment others. They were still covered in blood stains from her counterpart’s...entertainment. To think I was once like her. I took pleasure in that suffer. I thought it was wonderful. I felt so...joyful, as they screamed. The harshness of that truth wasn’t something she could process in just a single day. It lingered. It haunted her like a ghost. For everything she saw, she’d have thoughts of times past. Times when she’d have gladly indulged that vile desire. Times when she sought to rule everything. That monster...that imposter...Her...she was Aozora. That was the reality of it. Aozora’s worst enemy was herself. And if she gave into those impulses...those sinister desires...she’d begin her own descent towards madness. Every moment she spent in her own home reminded her of those possibilities, of her confrontation with that twisted monster, the fight she didn’t dare look back on.

You’re pathetic. That’s what she’d say. Weakling. Coward. Imposter. That’s how she thought. She saw me as the one who was a failure. She was psychotic. She let out a smile of bitterness. I was psychotic, too, once. These very same chambers...I used them for torment. I housed my own daughter in one of them, teaching her pain and suffering...the same pain and suffering She forced upon my entire nation. When she got ahold of this place, she left corpses everywhere. A trail of death...no different to my own, to that I left on the streets in days of grief. And now...the suffering continues to linger here...

Aozora forced open one of the cell doors. It was reinforced, security cameras focused upon the prison. Her clothing was torn and battered. The prisoner was covered in restraints for every limb, and several for other areas. She was blindfolded, her mouth kept shut, fed only by nutrient drip. It was the only way. Should I even be here? Will this even work? Naosu says it might. Might. What if it doesn’t? What if I never...no. There’s no time for doubt. I’ve hesitated long enough as it is. Aozora slowly approached, making sure the door was closed firmly behind her. The Overlady reached forward and removed the mouth and eye restraints, then stepped back before the prisoner could attempt to bite her.

“What have they done to you...” said Aozora, staring into those empty pink eyes. It was as though there was no mind behind them, no will in command of that a lifeless husk body. And yet there was. Those eyes moved, blinked. That mouth moved, taking in air. There was intelligence there. But not the prisoner’s own intelligence. No. She’s not...her. They did something. That monster was able to do something, and even after that nightmare ended...there’s no escaping the aftermath. “I’ll find a way. I’ll fix it. I’ll fix it for you...Kiku...”

The Densetsu spoke, her voice filled with anger. “You’ll never destroy my loyalty, imposter! You’re the one who’s tortured.” Aozora said nothing at first. That anger...that isn’t like her. She’s emotionless. Normally, on the surface, she’s gentle, if concerned. But beneath all that is only sociopathy. That’s how it’s meant to be. That’s how it should be. But She changed that. She did something, and now...she feels. Not real feelings. False bliss. False devotion. False adoration for that monster of a so-called goddess... Aozora released a deep sigh.

“We know what they did to you. They used one of their machines. It tore your mind apart. It tore you apart from within. Pain and pleasure, memories like wonderful dreams and faint glimmers of reality that feel so horrid you wish to run from them...we know that’s what it’s like. I can’t imagine how you feel. But I know there’s a part of you...the real you...still alive in there. I’m sorry I have to hurt you like this. It’s the only way.”

Kiku gave her a death glare. “No amount of pain will change anything. You’re wasting your time. You’re just a shadow of your former self. I know how you really feel. You were always vulnerable. Prone to anger and sadness at the slightest provocation. You don’t even deserve to be called a tyrant, let alone Supreme Overlady of All Reality. You’d probably be dead already if I hadn’t been forced to confront your misery time after time.” It was hard not to feel assaulted by those word. Aozora knew it wasn’t real. That didn’t make it any easier for her. Nightmares still hurt. Hallucinations still hurt. And so too did Kiku’s words. It was her voice. Her vocal cords. But not her mind. This was simply an echo of She Beyond Divinity’s ranting. That’s all it is. Delusional rambling.

“I gave you what you wanted, Kiku. You came to me for power, and that’s exactly what you got. Of all the Densetsu, you were the only one to come for me first. I miss those talks we used to have. I...I could use one about now. I know you won’t feel anything, but I hope you forgive me all the same. This agony...is necessary. I don’t enjoy this. But...it’s the only way to fix what has been broken...” With that, Aozora placed the mouth restraint back on. She left the eyes open. Staring into those judgemental eyes...it made her feel somehow better. Worse, in one way, for she’d soon see the suffering within them. But she deserved to see it. To bear witness to that pain that she would cause, and know without a doubt that it was not something to be savoured.

Aozora turned on the machine. It was a simple device, a surviving Abyss jar and the mechanism for transferring that agony. Hanabi had given her a pain projector to work with. Kiku seemed to hold against the pain, at first. Aozora stared at the meter. Moving to setting two... Aozora turned the dial, and saw water forming in Kiku’s eyes. Setting three. At this point, even within the restraints, her entire body was convulsing. The Densetsu’s resolve was broken through, and she began to scream. Aozora could barely bring herself to listen. I’m sorry, Kiku...it’s the only way. She changed the drip bag that fed onto Kiku’s bloodstream, replacing it with one containing a chemical cocktail Naosu had produced for this purpose. With that, she left the room, closing the door behind her, that screaming still echoing in her mind.

The Supreme Overlady of All Reality walked through the corridor. Another reinforced door awaited her. Is this kind of approach really going to work? Why do I even talk to them? I...have to. It’ll work. Enough pain, enough chemicals, enough time...we have to reverse what that monster did. She opened the door, her every step feeling empty. This room contained another woman, lab coat shredded in places, hair a silvery grey. She was restrained in the same way as the Kiku. Aozora removed her eye restraints. “Tensai...”

The former head of science didn’t speak. She’d maintained her silence this whole time. Her golden eyes moved, she breathed, she was clearly not brain-dead. And yet she gave Aozora the silent treatment. That’s What she thinks hurts me most. Kiku accuses me, Tendsi ignores me. All they do is that which they believe makes me suffer more. That’s the mentality that’s been forced upon them. She sighed. They know me from years of collaboration, from years of the closest thing I can claim to friendship. From obeying my orders, giving me advice, having nice talks and even messing around just a little. They know perfectly well what hurts me... “I know you’re listening. I know you’re watching. I’m sorry. That’s...all I can say.”[/i]

Aozora turned the dial, and changed the drip. Tensai didn’t scream. She shook, shivered, shuddered, but didn’t let a single breath of air escape her mouth. She could handle it, barely. It would take some time for the chemicals to take effect. It was hoped that this would have a significant mental impact, enough for her to fix the problem. If it didn’t...if all this torture didn’t work...there was only one remaining alternative.

An alternative that’s almost guaranteed to be lethal.

Aozora left her prisoner, closing the door behind her. There were no others trapped within her residence’s torture cells. Two more had fallen. Jinsoku had been captured after a vicious struggle. Either the torment Tengoku had used on the others had killed him, or he had been trapped within that world even in the war’s final moments. Shinokage had been in Yasei during the Inferno. The conclusion there was as obvious as it was unfortunate. Sawagi had lost her leg, over a hundred million had lost their lives, and Aozora had almost lost her mind.

The Supreme Overlady of All Reality moved into the laboratory. The room was surprisingly sterile considering what She had done. Attached to one of the walls was a cylinder, a chamber. The very first tenshification vat. The one I used on my Densetsu, on my daughter, on Sekien...the one which gave them magic and...forced their loyalty. This machine...if our estimates are correct...might be the only way. But to tenshify a tenshi has invariably resulted in death. It’ll need to be in bursts fast enough to avoid them burning to death, but long enough for that to finally get to their minds. Yet...the risks are...

She shook her head, even as her eyes became downcast. Death is preferable to life in that state. Are they conscious in there? Naosu told me it was more like a dream. A never-ending dream where they know the truth, but it hurts too much, so they forever choose the blissful alternative. The unreality that monster forced upon them. I don’t know if it’s a good thing or not if she’s right. They must be suffering every moment. But...there may yet be a chance. I have to hold on to that hope. I just...

I just want this living nightmare to end, for all of us.

It felt strange sitting down in the meeting room with so few Densetsu to speak to. Aozora was used to having Tensai’s logical remarks, Kiku’s reassurances. That atmosphere of loss permeated everything. Kurushimi was stabbing herself more viciously than normal, Naosu examined them all as though looking for psychological damage, Sawagi no longer allowed tears to flow from her face freely. The only one unaffected was Gikochinai, and even she was being somewhat careful to avoid hurting those around her. Aozora gazed at two of the seats in the room, occupied now by those who were not tenshi. One of those personnel,was Okura Chiyotanda, intermittent head of science, who smiled unfazed. If Tensai and Naosu were cold and ruthless, Okura was eccentric and bombastic...and still ruthless. The other seat was occupied by Kaya Yoyoi, new head Kyoki Chudoku’s aerial forces, who was unable to conceal her dismfort and anxiety being surrounded by the highest echelons of Chudokuren society.

It feels empty. That’s the problem. We have newcomers, we’ve lost several...it feels...different, now. Aozora stood up, pushing a report across the table as she did so. “Thank you all for coming. I know we all have our duties to attend to, but I need all of you here for this. Ever since the war, we’ve been blind when it comes to magic activity. The Himitsu no Shakai have done their best, but they struggle to predict where the next disaster might come. The Arcanometer was our greatest asset in this regard. It has many flaws, but it allows us to see where magic is concentrated, where we need to watch for dangerous activity. The rifts ruined its ability to make predictions during the war. Tengoku got their hands on it, and sabotaged it before we could reclaim it. Now, however, the device has been repaired.” She gestured towards Okura- the one who had done a lot of work on the repairs, given his scientific background- and sat down. The non-Densetsu rose.

“Ah, yes. Repairs on the Arcanometer have proceeded very well. It’s quite a fascinating machine. And it represents the ability of technology and the arcane- which are so often linked- to overcome many obstacles. It’s a shame one of those obstacles is our continued existence. Hence, we must be cautious. The Arcanometer is a guide. It may be wrong, it may be right, but unreliable information is better than no information in this case. What it lacks in accuracy, it makes up for in versatility. The machine has just been calibrated. The first report will be printed out within moments.” He sat down.

The Supreme Overlady of All Reality placed her hands on the table. “That’s what we are here to discuss. When that report arrives, we need to assess the most important areas to target. It doesn’t matter what nation it is. We are not allowing another nightmare to happen. Now then. The report on the table is from the Himitsu no Shakai. As you can see, we are lacking resources when it comes to our intervention ability. Our main assets are Zen’ei, the Kensaku Team, what remains of the Undertaker Brigade...and myself. We also have access to military support, so-“

“Yourself?” said Naosu. Here we go. “Your presence in another nation is extremely risky. You are needed to ensure the stability of the nation. It is fortunate you survive your encounters at all.”

“I know, Naosu. I’m very much aware of that. But the stability of this one nation won’t matter a whole lot if the entire world ends up in flames. I value my country. I value you. And I certainly value my own life. But my duty is to risk my life so that my nation may live, so that the world may live. And if there’s cause for me to do my job in person, as I so often must...so be it. I doubt the world is going to change just to make this easier.”

At this point, one of the few Gomon Hito survivors entered the room, placed down a report, and left. The entire group examined it. It was from the reconstructed Arcanometer. Aozora snatched one of the pieces of paper, examining the predicted magic levels of each country in the world. A map was also provided, with coloured boundaries marking the levels of the arcane detected. Some areas were rich in it, and expected to be. Others were...anomalous. Kursushimi pointed at a splotch of territory soaked in the arcane. “Is this...a glitch? That is...a very high...value...”

“We’ll need to do multiple tests to be sure.” said Aozora. “But if it is this rich in the arcane...we need to find out why, quickly. Is there some magical maelstrom going on there or something?”

“Maybe it’s a place that uses magic for fun! That’d be really nice!” said Gikochinai. If only that were safe. Anyone who does that doesn’t understand the danger involved. Magic tears rifts in reality. It opens us up to disaster. It causes calamity. And I’m not letting it happen again. It’s done enough damage as it is.

“The area seems surrounded by water...” said Sawagi. “A fleet could be sent to investigate. What remains of the Iruka could be sent, too. I’d enjoy another chance to be at sea...” When she rose, Aozora could hear the cleaning of her prosthetic leg against the ground. “I would like to request permission to launch an investigation.”

“Hold up...” said Kaya, also standing. “Ships are slow. Fleets are hard to organise. If all we need is basic recon, send a Yurei. It’s stealth. Anti-air won’t pick it off straight away. We can get our recon without them even noticing.”

“Why isn’t there any data on the nation that owns this territory?” asked Naosu. “Do the personnel responsible require corrections?”

Aozora shook her head. “It’s not that. There just isn’t anything there that we know of. Kaya’s idea has merit, but I’d rather get recon the ground as well. Besides, we don’t want them to think we’re launching an invasion if someone does turn out to be there. Now then...what’s this country?” She pointed at a spot on the map that seemed to have a strange Arcanometer reading. “What magic users do we know of there?”

“Sartinaynia.” said Okura, examining a sheet. “And none. It’s a nation we’ve never had contact with.”

“It seems the places we need to worry about most at this rate are the ones we’ve never met...” said Aozora. “Alright, it could be a glitch, but add them to the list. I want any international communications from any of these places you can find. We need as much information as we can get. That information is the difference between success or failure, between saving this world or allowing it to end. For all we know, those are the stakes. The Himitsu no Shakai will also be handling investigation of other nations of note from past encounters. I want to know what the heck the Imperium of Steve is up to now that they’ve gotten their hands on an alliance. And...it’s not strictly based on arcane investigation, but...I’d like to look into Necerierra as well. Reports about that place worry me lately, and we can’t let such an important ally struggle against chaos if it comes to it.” Aozora took a deep breath. “You have your orders. Dismissed.”

RawReport