ushernet Final days (2).
Final days (2).
First of all, questions that were asked to me and I thought it would be good to include here, as some people might have the same doubts.
"Will you be on hiatus until after Christmas?"
Answer: No. It's December, everything is crazy as hell, but I will keep writing.
"How many chapters are left before we go back to Terraria?"
Answer: Two. We're on (2), and in (4) Devas returns to Terraria. I had to split this chapter into 4 because it became huge.
Theoretically, this arc ended at the end of the fight against Salem, but this 'post-arc' is a way for me to close most of the loose ends I left.
Finally, as always, if you want to read 3/7 chapters ahead, that's possible with my (P)(A)(T). If not, I still appreciate you reading! Thank you so much!
That said, have a good night and enjoy your reading!
(P)(A)(T)/CalleumArtori
[...]---[...]
POV: Ruby Rose
It was already daylight, and we were well into the afternoon, yet Devas still hadn’t woken up...
Blake’s parents interrogated her, asking for answers she tried her best to give. We did what we could to help.
Dad and Uncle Qrow did the same—though Dad more than Qrow, since the latter already knew Devas for what he was. Still, both had questions. They were clearly exhausted, as were Blake’s parents. The battle had taken its toll, but aside from a brief nap, none of them had really slept.
Somehow, Roman managed to sleep. The thief just asked where he could lie down, and after we handed him a pillow, he threw himself into one of the command room’s chairs, muttering about not wanting to be accused of looting Devas’ ship. Minutes later, he was snoring.
I had no idea how he could act like that...
Neo simply asked where the kitchen was and disappeared after getting her answer. Somehow, Roman woke up just to tell her not to make a mess in someone else’s house or wake up, in his words, “The very tired guy who can apparently kill immortals and eat parts of gods.”
Neo’s response was a thumbs-up. Just a thumb—the rest of her body was nowhere to be seen.
“She won’t even make it past the door if she tries to wake him,” Blake commented beside me.
“The Nightmares won’t let her,” Weiss corrected, crossing her legs. “But yes, she won’t. At most, she’ll grab the ice cream in the fridge—assuming this ship even has one.”
She glanced at her phone, where the stream was still playing. I did the same with mine. Devas was still asleep, barely moving. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was dead, and that thought was terrifying. The only movement in the camera feed—besides the flickering eyes in the shadows watching every corner of the dark room—was the faint rise and fall of his breathing.
...Even that movement was nearly imperceptible in the darkness. If it weren’t for the excellent quality of the stream’s camera and the glowing golden blood dripping from his jaw and right arm resting over his chest, it would’ve been impossible to tell he was breathing.
No one spoke for a few seconds. Dad and Uncle Qrow were a little further away, talking with Ghira and Kali. The four of them were likely discussing where to take the Proto-A or something else, but I wasn’t paying much attention. Yang, Blake, and Weiss were seated in the chairs around me.
The silence was broken by the sound of my Scroll ringing. It was Jaune.
“Ruby, I...” were his first words when I answered the call. I could see Pyrrha, Ren, and Nora behind him. I couldn’t spot anyone from Team CFVY if they were in the room. “I wanted to apologize. We all wanted—”
Yang snatched the Scroll from my hand. If her flaming hair and burning red eyes weren’t enough to betray her anger, the growl escaping her lips certainly was.
“Don’t apologize, Vomit Boy. You didn’t disappoint at all. Cowering before the man who saved the world and treating him like a monster is exactly what we expected from someone as pathetic as you,” she spat with disgust. I saw Jaune flinch at her words. Before anyone on the other end could react, Yang continued:
“But the rest of your team doing the same? That was a surprise. Not that it was completely unexpected; after all, Team JNPR is just a knockoff version of Team RWBY in every way. Pathetic.”
She ended the call and tossed the Scroll back to me as the screen went dark. I caught it midair with ease.
“You didn’t have to be so rude,” I said softly.
“You could’ve dodged if you didn’t want me taking the Scroll,” she retorted, throwing herself back into her chair. Her eyes returned to lilac, and her hair calmed down. “And I wasn’t rude. I just stated facts.”
“And wanting a target for your anger didn’t influence that?” Weiss asked.
“Of course it did.” My sister didn’t deny it. “It was even better that the target deserved it. Or are you going to say otherwise?”
Weiss didn’t refute her. Neither did Blake.
I felt like saying Team JNPR wasn’t entirely to blame for acting that way, but, honestly, I didn’t want to.
He shouldn’t be treated like that. Heroes shouldn’t be treated like that...
‘I’m not a hero...’
My fists tightened around my phone. I returned my attention to watching Devas sleep in silence.
[...]
[12 Days Until the Return to Terraria]
POV: Devas Asura
I’d been awake for some time. I woke up to a stream notification. Curiously, I woke directly in my Spiritual Realm instead of my body. The sound of waves and the gentle sea breeze were pleasant, as were the soft rays of sunlight filtering through the window and touching my form.
I lingered in bed for a few moments before getting up. I didn’t activate the spiritual camera—at least not yet. I wanted a bit of peace and quiet.
Walking calmly through the house, the wood creaked beneath my weight as I made my way outside and toward the beach. I didn’t bother with chairs or beds, nor did I check on my Nightmares or the two golden dragons. I just flopped onto the sand and basked in the sun’s warmth.
Not even five minutes later, I heard footsteps approaching.
The person sat beside me, then lay down on the sand, remaining silent. The sound of the waves filled the air. I looked at the message that had woken me:
[The soul of ‘Ozma’ seeks entry into your Spiritual Realm – Allow/Deny]
I had allowed it.
“You followed the path.”
“Yes... I did.”
“Why?” I asked. “Why follow it? You said you wanted rest.”
“I did.” He sighed. “I felt like I could. That if I didn’t grab onto that thread, I wouldn’t come back... Not this time.”
“So? What made you want to come back?”
Neither of us moved. It took him a while to answer this time.
“You said Terraria is a dangerous place, didn’t you?” He didn’t expect an answer; it was rhetorical. “That it’s more dangerous than Remnant... Maybe I can help... That was one reason.”
“It’s not your duty, nor your responsibility.”
“Nor was it yours. But you helped me.”
“I did what I did because I wanted to,” I replied, raising my right hand to the sky. It ached a little in my real body but far less than before. “I never expected anything in return—a prize or a reward.”
“No, you didn’t... I’m not expecting anything either,” he said before asking, “Would you help a friend in need?”
I scoffed, a laugh escaping my lips. “I’d like to think so.”
“Then that’s all I’m doing. Just helping a friend carry something too heavy for one person to bear.”
He stood, dusting the sand from his body, and extended a hand to me.
He looked different. The outfit was the same—the same black-and-green suit, minus the cane—but his body had changed. He no longer appeared to be a man in his fifties but someone in his twenties. His skin had gained a tan hue, different from the pale white it had been before. His face was slightly different, as were his eyes, nose... everything.
His hair was no longer gray, but dark brown, almost black. His eyes shared a similar hue. They had once been a very dark brown; now they were light brown, almost the same color as my own eyes... which was the only similarity between us.
... Salem must have been going senile.
“Share the name of your rejuvenation products. They seem to work wonders.” I grabbed his hand and pulled myself up. “You look about thirty years younger.”
“And you look ten or twelve,” he shot back, brushing sand off his shoulder. “This is my real appearance, how I was. Ozma, in the flesh... or rather, in spirit.”
He glanced around, not just from side to side, but at everything: the sky, the ground, the trees, the Nightmares flying in the distance, the sea, the beach house, the sun... everything.
“It’s incredible. If I didn’t know better, I’d think this was just another beach in Remnant instead of someone’s soul.”
“Mind and soul,” I corrected. “My Spiritual Realm is kind of a blend of both. An external part that connects the internal ones.”
“Like a bridge? Or maybe a path?” Ozma asked, his gaze falling on the bridge that linked the main island to Nightmare Isle.
“More like a road, actually. Follow me; I want to show you something...” I shrugged and began walking toward the beach house. Ozma followed. I stopped at the door and asked, “What’s the other reason?”
Ozma paused a few steps behind me, his hand brushing against the white wooden railing of the entrance. “I wanted to live.”
He looked toward the sea before continuing:
“Even after all this time, all these lives, I want to live. I realized, when faced with real, final death... that it terrified me. Deeply.”
“Ridiculous, isn’t it?” He let out a dry laugh. “I’ve lived so many lives. I’m an old man, tired... so very tired. And yet, when faced with death, I clung to the single thread of hope with all my might to avoid it...”
He turned to me and asked, “What would you call someone like that? Selfish? A hypocrite?”
“Human,” I answered. “And beyond that, alive.” I looked at my right hand, opening and closing my fingers.
“From the bottom of the food chain—the filthiest, most fragile worm, to the most depraved, sinful human—all strive to live. The real question isn’t whether it’s selfish or hypocritical. That’s already the answer. Living is selfish, difficult, painful, many times...”
I blinked, fixing my gaze on Ozma. The honey-brown reflection of my eyes in his light brown ones turned orange for a second.
“... The real question is: living... can you endure it?”
“You know my story. Do I need to answer?” He didn’t blink. I scoffed and looked away. The question already had an obvious answer.
I turned the door handle and walked in, Ozma trailing behind me. I noticed his curious gaze, especially when it landed on the picture of my grandfather, mother, and ‘father,’ whose frame lay face down.
“You can look if you want.” I grabbed the photo and tossed it to him. Ozma caught it with ease, studying it for a few seconds before placing it back in its spot.
I tapped the frame, leaving it facedown again, and we continued walking. I thought he might ask or comment, but he didn’t. Ozma followed me silently to the second floor, where I led him to the master bedroom and opened the door.
The room was larger than my own. On the wall opposite the door was a wide window, open, with beige curtains. To the left stood a large wardrobe with white and light pink doors, next to a door that led to the ensuite bathroom. A brown wooden desk stood nearby, accompanied by a matching chair and scattered papers, with a shelf above it filled with books.
The bed, against the right wall, was a large double bed with a canopy that extended to the ceiling, draped in sheer white curtains. It was a couple’s bedroom, where my mother and ‘father’ stayed whenever they and my grandfather visited the beach house.
The house had been a gift from my grandfather—my mother’s father—to her.
As soon as we entered, Ozma’s gaze went straight to the bed, where, aside from the white pillows with floral-patterned cases, someone lay: a woman.
“Salem...” he murmured.
... Salem.
She was lying with her eyes closed, her long blonde hair spread beneath her like a golden towel, contrasting with the white sheets. The Queen wore a white summer dress with light blue polka dots.
“I had Tyrian dress her. She appeared on the beach naked.” I walked to the side of the bed. Ozma remained frozen at the door. “The dress is my mother’s; it was in the wardrobe.”
It wasn’t a perfect fit. The dress was noticeably small for Salem’s ‘body,’ especially around the chest and waist. The woman was significantly taller than my mother; Salem stood around six foot one, while my mother, based on photos and my grandfather’s stories, had been about five foot three.
“How?... Why?” He managed to ask, stepping into the room and walking to the bed, standing beside me as he looked at Salem. “I felt her death. How is she here?”
“... I’m not entirely sure,” I replied. I thought for a few seconds before continuing, “But I have a theory... It’s crazy, but I think this is her afterlife.”
Ozma whipped his head toward me so quickly that the motion caused the canopy’s curtains to sway slightly.
“That makes no sense. How could this—your Spiritual Realm...” He gestured around before pointing at the bed. “... possibly be Salem’s afterlife?”
“Too many coincidences and bad luck?”
“Your title negates bad luck.”
“Honestly, I’m starting to think I got scammed on that part.” I sighed. “Do you know how I killed Salem?”@@@@
“Only what you told me you’d do.” His reply came without hesitation. “You said you’d try to rip the divinity that cursed her out by force. Is this what brought her here? You consuming the Light God’s divinity?”
“Of course, you know that too...” I shook my head. Here came the seventh person... “Partly, yes. When I tore the Light God’s divinity out of Salem, I also tore out part of her soul along with it.”
“Which you ate as well, I presume.”
“I couldn’t afford to in the middle of the battle!” I threw my hands in the air. Damn it, I hadn’t wanted to, but Salem could have seriously injured or killed me if I’d let her catch her breath. “But yes, I did eat part of her soul... twice.”
Pulling back the canopy curtains, I pointed at Salem. She was injured; small cuts covered her ‘body.’ They didn’t bleed but were visibly healing, observable to the naked eye. I pointed to an area above her right breast, where her skin looked... off.
It was still her skin, but something was wrong. It was subtle but noticeable upon closer inspection. If the rest of her ‘body’ seemed normal, human, that area appeared... artificial. Like an extremely well-made CGI animation that still clashed with reality.
“The cuts were made by my swords. That ‘false skin,’ so to speak, is where I tore the divinity out of her with my hand.” I raised my right hand into the air.
I could feel the question forming, so I explained before Ozma could ask:
“For context: when she first appeared here, Tyrian said she had a massive hole in her chest, which closed after a few minutes with that ‘false skin.’ As far as I can tell, that ‘false skin’ is what’s left of her soul—the part I devoured—that returned to her along with my spiritual energy. It’s healing her, slowly but surely.”
I stared at Salem for a moment before lowering my hand and continuing to explain my theory:
“When I tore the divinity out of Salem, I couldn’t remove all of it.” Not on the first try, thanks to that giant lizard, and not on the second, thanks to the divinity scattering through her body and soul as a desperate measure. “It was almost one hundred percent. I’d say about ninety-eight percent. But there was still a trace of divinity left in her when Salem died.”
"And the divinity you consumed, along with that piece of her soul, acted as a bridge." Ozma quickly grasped what I was implying. "...The smaller part followed the larger... But her soul..."
"It wasn’t the smaller part, yes. I had the smaller piece; she had the larger one."
"The divinity dragged her here?" he guessed, his eyes darting between Salem and me.
I shook my head. "No, nothing can enter here without my permission." Or so I hoped. I really didn’t want to find out otherwise.
"Then how?"
My gaze clouded for a moment as my memory drifted back to the end of the battle.
"Could you... kill me?..."
“Wasn’t this interview supposed to clarify what happened yesterday? Doesn’t anyone want to know about the stream, Salem, the gods... What the hell is this?!” Qrow grumbled, pouring a drink for Taiyang and tossing another to Roman.
“When did the broadcast to Remnant get cut off?” I asked aloud.
A response appeared in midair, emerging from an illusory blue-smoke lamp:
[(MOD) JinnOfTheLamp]
It stopped shortly after you went to sleep. I’m wrapping things up here and should arrive in a little over an hour.
(Chibi Jinn with a pocket watch emoji)
“Thanks for the update.” I gestured, swiping the message away. It dissipated into the air as I turned my attention back to the interview.
“Devas is human,” James stated. “Not a Faunus or a demigod, as some have speculated, and certainly not a god. Just human.”
Neo nudged me, chuckling. “No one’s going to believe him.” She then vanished, using her Semblance, and resumed skipping around the room, enjoying her ice cream.
Curiously, I could see her now. It was like a semi-transparent mirage, but I could clearly make out her figure without using my mana or VoidBag.
As the sociopath had predicted, almost no one seemed to believe him. I didn’t even need to look at their faces to notice it; I could vaguely sense it. My nightmare energy still lingered over Vale and its surroundings, allowing me to faintly perceive their emotions. It was a hazy and confusing sensation, but that was the gist of it.
The next questions followed a similar pattern, with slight variations:
“How does the Deer Huntsman use magic?”
“Is magic real?”
“Are the gods real?”
“Can that man control Grimm?”
“What else is real besides magic?”
“Is the legend of the Maidens real?”
“Is the Deer Huntsman the wizard from the Maidens' tale?”
And so on. I had long noticed no one used my name, only the title I’d been given upon arriving in Remnant.
I chuckled, amused. Did they think I was Voldemort? And this thing about me being the wizard from the Maidens’ tale? That story’s been around for five or six millennia, and I’m barely over twenty!
(“But they don’t know that. To them, having just discovered magic, immortality seems perfectly plausible. And technically, they’re correct—you are immortal, just a young one.”)
(“I know, I just think it’s funny.”) I replied to Ozma mentally.
Then, one question visibly irritated James. Not just him but several others in the Proto-A’s command room—and many in the (CHAT).
“The Thing in the Storm... do you have contingencies in case that monstrous abomination attacks one of the kingdoms?” The question came from a human man with an arrogant expression.
... Thing in the Storm? That title was actually kind of cool. Was that what some people were calling me now?
“Devas is not our enemy and will not attack any of the kingdoms. I will not tolerate further insults toward him. Consider yourself warned.” James fixed his gaze on the man who had asked the question.
I could feel what seemed like hesitation and fear—maybe even dread—in the reporter, quickly replaced by overwhelming greed. He had been paid to stir up trouble, hadn’t he?
... James didn’t filter who entered this damn conference?!
The reporter pressed on before James could call on someone else:
“You have no contingencies because you can’t stop him! Admit it!” He shouted, trying to incite the crowd. “We’re at the mercy of a monster’s whims! He destroyed and devoured something sacred, killed a chosen of light, and we can’t even protect ourselves if he decides to attack our families!”
“I love people like this. They always make things more entertaining.” I commented, tossing some popcorn into my mouth. “How much do you think he was paid to pull this?”
“For his sake, enough to hire a good lawyer,” Weiss growled. “And I doubt it was—I’ll personally ensure he faces consequences.”
(“Salem would die laughing hearing someone call her a chosen of light.”) Ozma’s laughter echoed in my mind.
“Remove him and place him under arrest for contempt of authority,” James ordered firmly. The soldiers moved swiftly. The man didn’t resist or shout, letting himself be taken, but the damage was already done.
The conference descended into uneasy murmurs. Even the soldiers began showing signs of doubt and unease. The emotions in the room grew murky: fear, stress, anxiety over the possibility of me doing exactly what the reporter had suggested.
Then, Jinn appeared. She walked calmly to James’ side, and no one tried to stop her.
“Miss Jinn, didn’t you say you were leaving?” James asked as she approached. Her presence didn’t seem to ease the crowd but at least held them in check, driven by curiosity. Jinn was known to always appear at my side, so her presence here had to mean something.
“I was. Glynda and I finished what we needed to do, and she returned to Beacon. With Ozpin’s death, the role of headmaster has fallen on her shoulders.” She explained before turning to the crowd. “I must say, even after all I’ve seen—which is a lot—I still find myself disappointed.”
Then, she turned to James: “May I take over, General?”
“Be my guest. You’ll handle this better than I can.” He stepped aside, relieved—or maybe just exhausted.
Jinn tapped the desk twice before directing her gaze to the nearest camera, ignoring the crowd.
“Devas, are you still watching?” The tension in the room spiked when she mentioned my name. “Could you activate the game board, please—thank you.”
(“Tell her not to mention me. I don’t want every man whose name starts with Oz or Os cursed due to collective paranoia. If she must reference me, let her be vague.”) Ozma quickly advised.
Before Jinn could continue, I focused. We were ridiculously far from Vale, making it nearly impossible to transmit my voice there. I could barely sense the kingdom, except through my nightmare energy... but I had a connection with Jinn.
In seconds, I located her through the mark on her thigh and, using it as a sort of terminal, I shaped my mana and nightmare energy around Jinn. Then I spoke, ensuring only she and the stream could hear me:
["Jinn, Ozma asked you not to mention him and, if you must, to keep it vague. Yes, he’s alive. Sorry for the spoiler."]
The blue woman chuckled softly, nodding slightly before regaining her composure and adopting a serious expression.
With the issue resolved and no restrictions left thanks to the game room, Jinn turned to the crowd.
"I’m going to flip things around here. Now I’ll be the one asking questions." She scanned the audience for a few seconds, her gaze sweeping across every face, before pointing to Xue, the first reporter James had chosen.
"You. How old do you think Salem was?"
The woman hesitated, clearly at a loss, before hazarding a guess: "Forty? No more than fifty... I think?"
"Thirteen thousand five hundred and two years." Jinn pronounced each number slowly. "That was Salem’s age. A millennia-old witch who commanded the Grimm since before any of the current kingdoms existed."
[AdvocateOfGenderEquality]
And she didn’t even look forty... Total mommy vibes, I’d let her boss me around and step on me if she wanted...
[AdvocateOfGenderEquality]
Crap! How do I delete this? That wasn’t supposed to show up on-screen!
[AdvocateOfGenderEquality]
(╯°□°)╯( ┻━┻
"Pff— Damn it!" I slapped my chest twice, nearly choking on popcorn at the sequence of messages. Was Kazuma’s life set to comedy mode or something? Because seriously...
The reaction to Salem’s age was almost unanimous: shock and disbelief. Not only in the conference room but also aboard Proto-A. Even those who knew Salem and, consequently, Ozpin were old had no idea how old.
... Even I had been surprised when I first learned it.
"That was the enemy Devas faced. Someone who, for a long time, was only held back by the efforts of countless people, generation after generation, guided by a leader whose role was passed down handpicked..." Jinn scanned the crowd, as if reading their thoughts. And come to think of it, she probably could.
"He didn’t have to. Devas didn’t have to fight. If he wanted, he could have taken the people he cared about and fled, and Salem would never have found him..."
Salem wouldn’t have even been in Vale if not for my presence, but that’s a detail better left unsaid...
Jinn pointed to another woman.
"You, Lisa Lavender. You’ve met Devas personally, spoken to him, interacted with him. What’s your opinion of the man?"
Lisa seemed momentarily lost before regaining her composure and responding: "...He’s calm, almost too much so in my opinion, and approaches things with a certain lightness and laziness. He’s also perceptive."
"I’ll take that as a compliment."
"Knowing that shark, it wasn’t," Roman muttered. Neo gave me a thumbs-up, as if agreeing with him.
"A valid description—neither entirely accurate nor entirely wrong." Jinn chuckled softly before continuing. "You have a question, don’t you? Go ahead, ask it; I’ll continue afterward."
"Actually, I have two questions. May I?" With Jinn’s confirmation, Lisa asked:
"First, who or what are you really? I don’t want to assume, but with all these revelations..."
"I’m not human or Faunus, if that’s what you’re asking. As for what I truly am, you could consider me a spirit—not a ghost, but a spirit, a different race from yours." She explained, carefully avoiding any mention of the relics.
Jinn was smart; bringing up the relics would only cause problems for Atlas, given that this was the only relic I didn’t intend to take with me. I’d need to ask Ozma where in the ocean he threw that damn crown...
"Just to be clear, I wouldn’t be here if not for Devas." Jinn nodded at Lisa. "Your second question, before we continue."
"In Mistral, was Devas..." She paused when she said my name. "...the shadow that protected the kingdom when Leonardo Lionheart died?"
A message appeared in front of me, surrounded by yellow flames:
[YellowHuntressLive]
He also killed him since he was a traitor, but let’s leave that out.
(Emote of a yellow bear whistling nonchalantly)
"It worked!" Yang punched the air beside me.
"Why that question?" Ruby ignored her sister and asked.
Roman answered: "The shark’s in contact with Lil' Miss Malachite. She’s the one who told her to ask that. Her main base is in Mistral, after all."
I had a theory that Jinn had specifically pointed to Lisa for this reason...
"He was. Leonardo Lionheart’s death was unforeseen. Ozpin and Devas were going to discuss something important with him, but he was already under Tyrian’s control, who killed him before attempting to flee, only to be killed by Devas shortly after." Jinn lied effortlessly, using the story Ozma and I had crafted for the Mistral press.
"Devas patrolled the kingdom, fearing that the headmaster’s death would cause chaos and attract more Grimm, resulting in countless deaths... But none occurred."
Jinn paused briefly, letting her words sink in, before continuing: "Devas didn’t have to do that either. Just as he didn’t have to stop Salem, didn’t have to provide medicine to the injured, didn’t have to ask me to heal them. And yet, you treat him as if he were a monster..."
"He devoured something sacred!" Someone stood up and shouted.
Jinn raised her hand, stopping the soldiers from detaining the man. "I don’t deny that he’s a hero who saved many lives, but that action he took... Something within me deeply abhors it."
Nearly everyone at the conference nodded instinctively in agreement.
"If you think that... how do you think Devas feels?" Jinn slammed her palm on the lectern. "If you’re disgusted just by knowing what he did, how do you think he feels?! How do you think he slept last night?!"
"Tired and in pain but with a perfectly clear conscience." Jinn was making me jealous—I couldn’t improvise and talk nonsense as well as she could.
Everyone around me turned to look. I raised my hands.
"What? I’m telling the truth. Aside from the crap taste of that Light God divinity, it didn’t affect me at all."
"It hurt you; you’re still hurt." Ruby pointed at my arm and jaw in turn, her face scrunched with concern. "How can you say it didn’t affect you?"
"Mentally, it didn’t affect me mentally," I clarified. It had given me a headache, but that was minor. "I’m not from Remnant. The God of Light didn’t create me like he did the humans and Faunus of this planet. What I did was as unsettling as eating a piece of cake."
... The cake would’ve tasted better.
[TohsakaHeiress]
That comparison is only slightly less insane than the person who made it. Your common sense is utterly warped, isn’t it, Devas?
(Emote of a chibi Rin sighing exasperatedly)
She called me insane? Her? The one who went to school during the Holy Grail War called me insane? ... Alright then.
Jinn’s voice echoed again in the command room.
"I want you all to think about that. I want you to think about what it took for a man like him—kind and calm—to do what he did, only to be treated like a monster and still smile, handing out medicine to the wounded and accepting it all alone..."
"I might even start blushing if she keeps going." I spoke aloud, amusing those around me.
Jinn fell silent after those statements, grumbled as if considering saying more, but ultimately nodded at James and began to walk away.
"I’ll be leaving now, General Ironwood."
James nodded, and Jinn left without another word. As soon as she was off-camera, a magical lamp appeared in my vision, and a message emerged from it.
[(MOD) JinnOfTheLamp]
You know the best part? I didn’t lie about anything when I talked about you... Hehe. (~ ̆▾ ̆)~
Jinn appeared atop Proto-A about half an hour later, carrying Zwei in her arms. Ruby screamed, saying she knew she’d forgotten something, before rushing to hug the dog and apologize profusely.
Jinn took command of the ship as soon as she arrived and changed course for Mistral. I kicked everyone out of the command room and told them to get some rest. Aside from a few grumbles, no one protested.
We arrived at Lake Matsu ten hours later, around four in the morning.
[...]---[...]
One of the stream updates. This is something that was supposed to exist some time ago, but I held off to make it part of the 10k viewers update. With this, communication with the viewers becomes much easier and constant, since it’s not Devas who reads the (CHAT), but the (CHAT) that flies in his face.
The regular reading mode will still happen in the story; this is just to add a bit more consistency, as many mentioned they wanted more presence from the (CHAT).
Good night and happy reading!
PS: Devas got 2 elders!
PPS: I used those text emojis because I read a Chinese novel that used them, and I laughed so much, so I thought it would be fun to include them. I'll also use the regular ones and the stream emotes. Let me know what you think, if possible.