Haschwalth, what is your task as the Sternritter Grandmaster?
...
Walk the trials. Conquer land. Spread the gospel as my Messenger has.
Prepare for war.
***
"Isn't it strange how a Catastrophe in Chernobog suddenly... vanished?"
"Weird? Yeah, it hit the headlines in Lungmen and some other spots. Think most folks are calling it atmospheric interference, or some fluke."
"A fluke? Come on."
"Yeah, yeah. I'm just saying what's being said. Not like I got a Catastrophe weather scanner in my eyes."
"You've never even passed your Catastrophe Analysis classes."
"Shut it."
Jugram walked through the hallways, keeping half of his ears primed for the occasional conversations thrown around. He checked his internal clock and was glad to know he was voraciously early. His earlier activity of knitting threads of Reiatsu hadn't sunk too much time.
A few gazes were sent his way, most likely due to the new piece of his outfit, but that was all he received. It was unlike when he first entered the landship, where far too many Operators possessed curious yet prying eyes. Those days never bode well for his senses, and thankfully, were far past him now. As far past as a few days could give.
It's much better to be viewed as an insignificant cog. But for some people, it doesn't do you any favor. There is never a moment in time where you are at a perfect state of being.
At least he hadn't been queried about the kinds of hair products he used. Bambietta Basterbine and Candice Catnipp possessed too much leisure. That's why they had learnt to fear his authority.
The scenery changed around him a few times as he dawdled in his thoughts, the spirit of that Sarkaz who usually followed him opted to explore the landship elsewhere, to "spot any tangible change to a place she once knew," in her own words. He let her be, and if she inquired about the subject of his current meeting debacle, then he could easily simplify it.
Speak of the Devil, for he had already found himself at the meeting spot. The Control Center, the designated area that had been assigned through him via email. He detected a faint tenor behind, and gave it a look, watching as a black-haired Vampire rushed down the hallway, a mumbling and sputtering mess as she entered another room.
The Engineering Department meeting room? Jugram raised an eyebrow, but let the subject go. It was her, and by extension their—the Engineering Department's—problem.
He walked into the Control Center. A spacious room filled with blue lights emitted from the holographic screens plastered at the front. Diagrams, graphs, some images of a certain country, objectives, and all the like were riddled across them. At the front, there was a steel desk with equally steel chairs placed in uniform order, with occupants already present. Namely, Nearl, Amiya, and Kal'tsit.
"You're on time, Dr. Haschwalth." Nearl was the first one to call out to him, giving a small wave. "I recall this is the first time you've attended a meeting since your amnesia. It's looking to be less of an obstacle for you now."
Jugram replied, "Yes, you are correct." He glanced at where Amiya was, and true to his predictions, the Cautus was looking at him. "Amnesia isn't an excuse for me to hold off responsibilities." His walk was short, making it by the seat close to hers—an action that had the girl beaming.
"Hm, understood." Nearl nodded, understanding. "I'm glad to know you're still as vigilant as you were back in Chernobog. Also, your cloak..." Her voice drew out at the end.
"Yes, I've had another one tailored in the structure of the previous one," Jugram completed it for her, "with slight adjustments added." He saw the Pegasus nod, before he referred to somebody else.
Jugram gave a side-eye to a Feline. "Good morning to you, Dr. Kal'tsit."
Kal'tsit, who was sitting on the left of Amiya, ignored his greeting. "Adjusted to the Control Center already, Doctor?" Her gaze never once left the tablet she was reviewing.
"Less arduous than what I expected," Jugram didn't bat an eye either, focused on the many holographic screens plastered about.
On the other side, Dobermann set down a stack of papers audibly, glancing stilted up for only a split moment to register the blonde-haired man sitting at the front of the table. His burnt cloak, now restored in some way she wasn't aware of—most likely by contacting a tailor—was now back to its normal picture-perfect state of being. Behind it was also no longer the strange five-pronged symbol that matched his Arts Unit Medallion.
Dobermann cleared her throat, capturing everybody's attention. "Let's begin. Is everybody ready?"
A chorus of silent nods were thrown her way.
"Here is a brief rundown of what is to be expected: Dr. Haschwalth, Dr. Kal'tsit, and Amiya, you three will be walking into Lungmen soil with a preordained proposition to Lungmen's Chief Executive—Wei Yenwu." The screen changed, prompted by the woman tapping her terminal. "With the recent looming threat of Reunion, and their escapade back in Chernobog, it has already been predicted and seen that their next target is Lungmen."
Amiya mumbled under breath, "But Lungmen can't handle another Chernobog. If Reunion reaches the civilian sectors..."
"Disaster for Lungmen and death of countless innocent lives," Kal'tsit said, Amiya's expression becoming more grim. "Dobermann, you're free to continue."
Jugram glanced with a side-eye to Kal'tsit, the Feline's attention still focused intently on the screen, even though the woman most likely already knew the details down to an intricate level.
Dobermann nodded, continuing, "As Kal'tsit said. Countless lives are at stake, and your focus is to garner a deal with the Chief Executive to occupy Rhodes Island's involvement with them in order to help stave off the Reunion menaces. This, by all means, is an integrative negotiation; don't expect everything to be smooth sailing from there. Any questions, comments, or concerns?" At the end, her gaze drifted toward Jugram.
He responded curtly, "I have nothing to voice." However, he did not notice how Amiya seemed to be steeling herself in some way when provided with their objective. He understood why. She was young.
"Now this brings us to our second point." Dobermann kept her gaze focused on Jugram. "Dr. Haschwalth, based on the observations from Operator Medic in Chernobog which has become known to the Medical Department, we are temporarily barring you from physically engaging in direct offensive measures."
...Jugram changed his mind, he did have something to voice. "I disagree. My involvement would make sure every operation is done smoothly."
"I don't believe so," Dobermann disagreed with a shake of her head.
"Under what basis?" He stood firm.
"The basis of cardiac precautions. Three Senior Medical Operators have deemed it necessary for you to be in a state of recovery rather than activity."
"My occupation doesn't allow for recovery in the first place. I am a commander," Jugram brought up.
"Yes, you are a frontline commander. However, we can achieve your recovery without compromising Rhodes Island's fighting capabilities by taking an active position behind rather than in front. Is this suitable?"
Jugram exhaled. "A hard pill to swallow." He was never one who preferred watching others do tasks that could be done more quickly by himself.
His Majesty, under gyrating rain and smoke-filled battlefields, blocked him from stepping forward. A denial of his purpose. A denial of his actions. For his involvement was deemed unnecessary.
Those times, as much as he wished to deny it, were ones he loathed the most—
"Doctor," Kal'tsit spoke up this time, pulling his attentiveness her way. "Trust in the Operators you command."
Jugram, for a moment, thought it over, before responding, "If the circumstances do not permit my uninvolvement..."
She sighed. "Then yes, you are allowed to act without reprimand. Do keep your health in mind, Dr. Haschwalth." And don't split another Catastrophe in front of everybody, she left unsaid.
"Duly noted. I will follow the Medical Department's edict." He knew everybody was under the assumption one requirement with his capabilities in relation to splitting a Catastrophe placed a heavy load on his health. It seems this Reunion problem will have to persist more than I imagined.
"Good. Now, our arrival to Lungmen has already been expected by Wei Yenwu as we have sent a messenger in advance. Our estimated time of arrival is by tomorrow, so I suggest getting your needed preparations in check. Otherwise, that is all I have to say for this meeting. If there are no other questions, then..." She glanced around.
Nearl raised her hand. "What about my involvement?"
"You will be coming with me to prepare for another operation," Dobermann replied. "We'll discuss it after the meeting."
The Pegasus nodded. "Understood."
Nothing else was said, prompting Dobermann to finally finish with: "This meeting is formally adjourned."
***
"A integrative negotiation with Lungmen?" Amiya stated aloud, somewhat distressed. "I heard a lot about the Chief Executive. Mainly, it's difficult for any world leader—Ursus or Victoria—to strike a deal with him if it does not appeal to his interests."
Jugram hummed. "Do you believe our lent aid would be to his disinterest?"
Amiya hesitated. "N-no, I don't think so..." She contemplated for a moment. "It just seems like a pretty big endeavor... but if you're coming along, Doctor." She glanced up at him, brighter. "Then I promise I won't be overly nervous."
"There's no need for you to promise anything."
"Muu, I know." Amiya pouted, softly punching the side of his cloak. She then shifted back to her normal attitude. "But, aside from that..." She glanced Kal'tsit's way. "Dr. Kal'tsit, please don't bully the Doctor."
Jugram blinked. Again? The Cautus was abnormally defensive of him. This had been the second instance she had said something akin to that phrase, one which included "bullying."
Kal'tsit tilted her head. "That would be counterintuitive with the objective we are attempting to achieve. Rest assured, Amiya, there will be no self-destructive complications during the negotiations."
"Thank you so much, Dr. Kal'tsit." Amiya visibly brightened up.
"Amiya, I remember vividly, do you not have duties with the children of Rhodes Island?" Jugram brought up, intentionally abrupt. "If I recall, your presence to them is quite the gift." He needed to discuss a subject with Kal'tsit in private.
"O-oh! How could I forget?" The Cautus nearly jumped up, her rabbit ears sticking up. "Thank you, Doctor, I'll get to it as soon as possible." With a wave of her hand, she jogged down the hallway to where she needed to go.
Leaving both Kal'tsit and Jugram in the same hallway. Unexpectedly, the blonde-haired man was the first to shatter the silence.
"Why did you decide to herd Amiya along the way?" Jugram raised an eyebrow.
"She needs experience." Kal'tsit didn't bat an eye at him, nor deny it was her involvement to bring the Cautus along. "You, we, are to shepherd her along the way through her entire journey." Her tone fell. "Do not disappoint in that regard, Doctor."
"...We are to bring her along to the integrative negotiation, is that so?" Jugram rhetorically said, ignoring her previous remark. "I'll see what I can do."
"With your amnesia as a factor?" she tested.
"You must have brought me for credibility, or because you trust I still hold some value in negotiations as I do leading the battlefield—not just for Amiya's emotional support," he dryly stated. "Fact is, you've already decided to bring me along for one reason or another. I doubt you care much if amnesia would be a debilitating effect for me or not."
"...Admittedly correct. After all, you are anything but incompetent from what I've seen." Though a compliment, it was still laced with a thin trace of poison
"Anything but incompetent..." Jugram wistfully repeated. "Anything but... I see." He shook his head. "If that is how you view me, then I'll let it be as it is."
"You should," Kal'tsit said, turning around. "Also, that insignia you've embedded on the back of your cloak..." She turned around with one final look. "Don't stain its image."
"I won't."
She whirled her head back. "I hope so. It suits you, for the time being."
With nothing else to say, the two departed with a bitter trail.
***
When it comes to defeating an enemy, Jugram was well aware that one needed to understand them to an extent in order to meticulously achieve such a result. There was a reason why the Wadenreich had hidden themselves in a dimension of shadows, their omnipresent cloak which had allowed them to spy on and observe the Shinigamis. Information, habits, abilities, techniques, and Bankais; all were under their omniscient eyes.
A perfect strategy. A perfect strike. A perfect preparation. Victory was the consequence of preparedness, and he'd be smitten by God if he was not prepared in the slightest.
For what Rhodes Island planned to do next, practically throwing a wrench in Reunion's plans and terrorism by gaining the cooperation of Lungmen, the landship needed to be ready for war. Aligning oneself in conflict could be in some way self-destructive, but he wasn't going to question this pharmaceutical company's objectives, for he already had a gist of it.
One thousand years he had prepared the Wandenreich for war, he could do the same here.
Although the margin of strength, including his own, had fallen compared to what was standard back in the Spiritual Worlds, he could still make do. Therefore, the terrorist organization of Reunion, although sounding as if they were no professionally militarized apparatus, would still be an obstacle he'd have to face. It didn't help that they held the means of overtaking a city.
Even if by luck or circumstance, something he believed to be the case, there was no harm in over-preparing, because he believed this landship would face greater threats in the future. Call it instinct, because it was, but the Sternritter Grandmaster wouldn't be surprised if Rhodes Island was thrown into other hellfire quagmires.
Right now, he was staring at his computer, mulling over files that had been sent to him as per an email request to Dr. Kal'tsit and Head Instructor Dobermann over the current information they held about Reunion.
Theresa silently watched him, having returned to his room with not much to say, something Jugram did not care to question. The only artifact he provided her was an explanation of the integrative negotiation bound to happen in the next day within Lungmen.
That was before he had set his sights on something else—after finishing his paperwork and the like.
His finger moved forward while glancing at an image of a red-haired Reproba dressed in a black hood with a white undershirt, a digitized notes section off to the lower section of their file.
"Crownslayer. Reproba. Small stature. Proficient in unseen and rapid assault. Possesses strategic initiative, but falls flat. Low priority as a threat." He typed, and then swiped with his cursor. Single words or phrases, metacognitively packed with paragraphs each.
This time, it was a hooded boy with a high collar, pale skin, and white cargo pants varied from the black he wore. Main weapon of choice was the crossbow, and a snake tail told a story of what his race was. Phidia. The names and attributes of Terra's races—be it Ancient or Elder—he had come to memorize.
He began typing: "Faust. Phidia. Small stature. Exhibits controlled demeanor. Capable of sustained precision. Above average sniper. In possession of turrets. Commands divisions of 'Phantom Crossbowmen.' Medium priority as a threat." Jugram brushed the image off to the side into the next one. All words he typed were key terms which would immediately ignite his memory with vivid details of their character and modus operandi; all based on what he knew of them.
"Mephisto. Liberi. Child. Deranged. Mediocre planner. Arm severed. Significant morale disruption potential. Low priority as a threat." He left it at that, immediately swiping after typing the details he needed.
"Skullshatterer. Unknown race, presumably Ursus. Small stature. Discovered by Scout's Squadron. Demolition specialist. Rhodes Island combat exposure limited. Low priority as a threat."
Swipe.
"Talulah. Draco. Average stature. Powerful Pyro-Arts. Comparable to Menos Grande-class Hollow: Gillian. Founding leader of Reunion. High priority as a threat." Jugram typed, and then paused, a split second rumination taking play. "...Note: Initial counter mishandled. Execute judgement properly next time."
He swiped.
"W. Sarkaz. Small stature. Demolitionist specialist, more so than Skullshatterer, handling a wider range of explosives in comparison. Cause of Elite Operator 'Scout's' death. Troublesome. Commands divisions of 'Sarkaz Mercenaries.' Medium priority as a threat."
Theresa's gaze softened, but Jugram didn't notice. She was debating whether to speak up when W's image and profile had appeared.
Swipe.
"FrostNova. Cautus. Average stature given age. Powerful Cryo-Arts. Commands divisions of 'Yeti Squadron.' High priority as a threat."
Swipe.
He saw the last image, a very blurry image, but with just enough clarity that he could make it out. A massive build, a dark cloak, power armor underneath, and hollow red eyes underneath a deer-horned helmet.
Jugram heard Theresa gasp in recognition, her body brought closer to the screen. He acknowledged it, proceeding with the usual.
"Patriot. Massive stature. Sarkaz—subtype/tribe of Wendigo. Significantly aged. More puissant than Talulah. Commands divisions of 'Guerillas.' Maximum priority as a threat. Note: Watch out for unconventional tactics & 'Sarkaz Witchcraft'."
That was it.
"Patriot..." Theresa mumbled. "That wasn't always his name. Is this what has become of him?"
"You know him," Jugram commented.
"He once served under me, I remember it distinctly. He marched in the War Council with a mass of Wendigos, all desiring to migrate away from Kazdel." She became reminiscent. "They were met with immediate opposition." A low sigh. "Scorn. Hatred. How could such a proud court separate themselves from the revered Ten Kings?"
He listened intently.
"The Sanguinarch of Vampires was the most livid at the prospect, snarling his fangs. Those days..." Her voice trailed, before she shook her head. "I pardoned and dismissed them into exile. Though, it would be more accurate to call it a self-exile, as they had already prepared to commit such an act when their decisions were made."
"Do you bear any disappointment?"
"How could I? Well, perhaps one." Theresa shook her head, bearing no offense to his abrasive question. "Buldrokkas'tee, the greatest of the Wendigos. I am merely disappointed the home of Kazdel could no longer house him and the rest of his kind, for they found greater solidarity in Ursus."
Jugram thrummed his fingers. "...And now he serves under Reunion, tearing apart this same exact Ursus. I fail to see a line of reasoning." He had come to the assumption that there was a possibility Ursus had betrayed him to lead to his current position in Reunion.
"I am at a loss too," she admitted sorrowfully. "But I believe there is a reason for it. There is a reason for everything. Now that he leads Reunion's guerilla forces, you may find him to be an indomitable force, unyielding in all aspects, halberd raised for what he believes in."
"I'll see for myself," his voice was no different from a dismissively stilted brush. "Both whatever his line of reasoning for abandoning Ursus is, and his prowess."
"Please, do not make light of his presence. Sarkaz are known for their tenacity, and Wendigos just so happen to be the most resilient of them all." Theresa stood in front of him, the action forcefully attracting his attention. "He would much rather die on his feet before ever halting in his advance."
Hearing her words, the Sternritter Grandmaster couldn't help but think back to a certain opposition he had stood against once before.
Shinigami. God of Death. King of the Dead. Blazing heat powerful enough to cease existence and destroy worlds. A walking hellscape in abstract. Shunpo sufficient enough to distort space-time. Captain Commander of the Gotei 13.
Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto, a Demon With a Sword. How his sword would carve the road to his death, how his sword would carve the planes apart, and how his sword would carve the same pulsation the Universe would emit during its death.
"Jugram?" Theresa called out, worried. "You brought out your Medallion?"
Jugam blinked out of his lapse, glancing down at his right hand. There stood the intricate object. "I will take your words to heed..." he barely mumbled. His hand pocketed it back into his cloak, and he went back to typing notes about Patriot.
Theresa stared worriedly, but let the matter leave as it was. Though, she could have sworn something she sensed inside that Medallion, a constrained violence ready to break out at any moment. She feared what it was.
Jugram tapped the final key on his computer. "Abbendum: Strategic approach in regards to sending in Operators: Play dirty. Do not underestimate. Never strike at the front; a mountain must collapse from within."
"Play dirty?" Theresa questioned.
"For Operators under my command, and with his designated threat level, I will not risk a direct confrontation that will lead to pointless deaths. Do you have a problem?"
"Pardon me, not necessarily. I just found it... how should I put it into words?"
He turned away, going back to typing his notes. "Possibility of Operator failure prominent. In consideration, Contingency 1 — Codename: Almighty and Contingency 2 — Codename: Balance are in stasis. Risks pertaining to execution of both contingencies: Cardiac complications."
Theresa lost her train of thought as she heard the codenames. "...Almighty and Balance." A degree of mirth exited her lips at the sheer visibility of his inspirations. "But... if you were to utilize them in any fashion, then I fear the consequences to come."
"Be it as it may, they have never heralded the end of my life, now have they?"
"Just because they haven't now doesn't mean they won't in the future." Raised voice, chiding, the Sarkaz's tone caused the Quincy to shortly grumble.
"Burden me with your cavillation some other time." Jugram would find himself at a pause when an index finger was raised in front of his face, the spirit of Theresa sitting on his desk and leaning over.
"What about our promise?"
Jugram closed his eyes, miffed, defeated even. "...That I would ordain myself to be furthermore considerate?"
"Mhm?" She leaned in further, clasped lips curling into a smile.
He pushed the hand away, gently. "Please, step off my desk."
"Will you be more considerate?" she softly pressed.
Jugram fancied to confirm he would be, if only to desist this devil from pestering him, but found it within himself he couldn't. Why? Because he hadn't been adhering all too well to the promise, and thus... that meant he hadn't been contributing to the Balance he had sworn fealty to.
"Are you distraught? I haven't seen you be silent for such an extended period." Theresa waved a hand in front of his face, genuinely surprised.
"...You've nagged me about this in the past three days four times now."
"You kept a record? Should I take this as a token that you do take prudence to the matter?"
"You are tormenting me," he flatly said, giving in.
"Pardon?" Theresa stepped down from the desk, watching the blonde-haired man pinch the bridge of his nose.
"I'll be painfully honest. I have not been heeding to the advice you've given me."
"You haven't?"
"Truthfully, I haven't."
"...But aren't you doing so now?" Theresa smiled all-knowingly, fingers interlocking.
Jugram opened his mouth to speak with furrowed brows, but immediately found himself stopping.
"See?" The Sarkaz chuckled. "Not so unpleasant, wouldn't you say?"
"...You are more unbearable than the colorful cast of Sternritters I had once held precedence over." The corner of his lips twitched.
"Previous world affairs?"
"Bloody ones."
Majority of Stenritters did not fear death by the Shinigami, but death by the Grandmaster.
His hand tensed. He glared at it, his body unresponsive to his logical desires to unclench it.
Maybe he could make a difference.
***
Jugram took in a controlled breath and closed the screen, shutting his eyes as he cycled through everything he had written down. Plans formulated, scenarios crafted, and a plethora of environments in varied sections of cities meshed to accommodate them. For about a minute or so, he had thought them all over.
Still, it wasn't enough, for life was filled with infinite possibilities. So now, he activated the small terminal device secured with an artificial intelligence he hadn't put to much use in recent times—compared to what it was capable of achieving with its cold, computing ferocity...
"Good afternoon, Dr. Haschwalth." The digitized voice of PRTS rang from the small device. "You have not activated me for 0007 hours since waking up today. I believe that is cause for concern."
...Some ferocity it held.
"Irrelevant," Jugram shot. "I don't need such arbitrary information. Provide me a list of Operator Files from your database."
For some unutterable reason, the ghost of Theresa smiled... smugly? At the device he held in his hands. He ignored it. The Sarkaz will be the Sarkaz, whatever that had meant—because he was not sure himself what it meant.
"If you do not desire my work, then I believe you should be more transparent about it, Dr. Haschwalth." The voice of the AI resounded once more.
"I do desire your work, PRTS, but I have no time to waste at the moment." He tapped his desk with his index finger. "The day grows weary, and I have no patience to see myself exhausted before any work is done."
A few static sounds were heard from PRTS, before it replied, "...Stored in database. Request considered. New directive: Waste no time assisting Dr. Haschwalth. Does that sound preferable?"
"Indeed."
"Permanently etching into database..." A loading screen was seen empty, before a split second later, it filled up to the one-hundred percent bar. "...Permanently etched. Bringing up a list of Operator Files with designated security clearance... Level 8. Enjoy, Dr. Haschwalth."
"Much more preferable. Thank you, PRTS." He let out a sigh, glancing at the small device and squirting his eyes.
"The pleasure is all mine." PRTS sounded... Strangely saccharine? Strange for an AI. Unbeknownst to Jugram, Theresa crossed her arms at it from the side.
Jugram had to wonder how the AI had been programmed to act in his presence, but shrugged it off, focusing back on the list of Operators. "There's a great deal of them amongst the list..." He scrolled down, only to find out the quick scroll he did only covered just one percent of the total scroll bar.
Theresa leaned her head over, almost surprising the blonde-haired man she suddenly spoke, "Would you like me to help you?"
"Aid me? To glance through the list?"
"Certainly."
"...Hm," Jugram considered it, "there is only one screen we can bear our gazes to..." He glanced back up, toward the computer sitting at the forefront of his study desk. An idea sparked. "PRTS. Are you able to connect to a separate screen from this device without disabling it? Namely, onto the computer in front of me?"
PRTS replied, "Easily so." In that moment, the empty computer screen filled with a black void lit up with digital blue lights, flashing into Jugram's face. It took only a few seconds for the boot-up phase to be completed, as it flashed the exact same screen as he had seen on his tablet.
"Now, how should this be done?" Jugram glanced at the spirit behind him.
Theresa addressed his concerns. "I don't possess a physical body, which means I can't interact with the material world either..."
"You can now," Jugram plainly stated. "My Soul Distribution can provide ample enough consideration for your current conundrum. Give it a try."
She was about to say something in response, but eventually let it go. Her hand traversed the air and touched the computer mouse, surprisingly finding it to be tangible to her body.
"Interesting." If she were a Revenant, she would have been able to possess it. Theresa hadn't ever attempted to do so with inanimate objects, but whatever type of spirit she was at the moment was unrelated to those aforementioned Revenant. "I must mention... the naming convention for your ability, Soul Distribution, sounds quite inauspicious."
"I am distributing the powers of my soul with barely any cost," Jugram said, turning back to PRTS. Theresa was interacting with her object. "Though straining it is to maintain it for a vast number of people, it won't happen any time soon."
He saw many Operators.
"Operator Nearl is out of the equation, she is already a part of a subsidiary. The same applies to Elite Operators. Medical Operators specialized only in medicine are also not considerable to the Schutzstaffel." Jugram set his parameters.
"Very limiting." Theresa watched as many profiles vanished one by one in both the computer screen and PRTS device terminal screen.
"Operators Jessica, Franka, and Liskarm." He examined the three in quick succession, speeding through the files at breakneck pace. "Blacksteel Worldwide, decent exposure to the battlefield, yet... They do not meet my standards."
"One of them shares your soul, don't they?"
"Jessica does. I'll see if her growth meets or exceeds my expectations in our inevitable armed conflict with Reunion. As it stands, she is considered. The others?" He scrolled past files, a scrutinizing gleam reflected across his pupil. "Not considered."
"You won't even try with Franka and Liskarm? That doesn't seem fair," she criticized. "Why are you so dismissive of them?"
"They are less suitable vessels for my Soul Distribution Powers." Jugram waved her off. "The blame is situated in their soul compatibility, a constituent dictated by birth. Sorrowful lineages they have."
His festering heart also played a disparaging role in hampering his full potential. If not, he was confident in powering the entire world without hindrance.
"Blood over merit...?" Her thoughts lingered on a certain ivory-clad Vampire, red gaze rending a deep burgundy across bodies. "No consideration for their potential development, either?" She crossed her arms, disapproval written all over it.
"Tempering is important, yes, I can see why. To remove the impurities of iron..." Jugram trailed. "But the Quincy doctrine values pristine silver more, those who already hold a worth of purity. Why waste time tempering when there is a quicker route?"
"...I know you're as blunt as a Sarkaz warhammer, but..."
He swiped away multiple files, many to his disinterest. "As sharp as a Quincy sword would be a more accurate analogy."
"Is that why you're so swift to decapitate these options?"
"I've decapitated many people, Theresa. I'm not deceitful enough to deny continuing it until my blade dulls in this new life." He remained unmoved, reading through more.
"I hope you don't mean it in the literal sense."
"I have been dealt death in abundance before. It was not pleasant. Rest your weary soul, you won't find me callously delivering it upon these new allies." Unless they turn traitor, then Jugram wouldn't mind becoming the guillotine to their necks—
BG9 and Cang Du stared at him in fear. The faint tremors across their body shook his own soul.
He bit the inside of his cheek, narrowing his eyes.
"You're hiding something." She felt his emotions, they were in turmoil.
Just as his mouth was about to fire off another deflection, he came to something interesting from PRTS' terminal. "...Clench that thought."
"I—what?" Theresa paused, turning down to the terminal, skeptically wondering what had abruptly caught his attention from her.
"Operator Skadi." Jugram stared at the terminal. "A part of her Physical Exam is blotted into absence. Physical Strength, to be precise."
"Blotted? You mean a redaction?" Curiosity also came to the Sarkaz. "Mmh. I could make an assumption why."
"You already know," he flicked an eye her way.
"Maybe?" She smiled, wistful. "But It's more fun to watch you piece together this puzzle."
She was right. He would piece it together. "PRTS, categorize all Operators with Physical Strength from Outstanding to Flawed," Jugram commanded, the terminal interface complying, and he received a scrollable list with his exact order. "Strange. Operator Skadi does not appear in this arrangement."
She let him continue to mull it over. While she stared at the white-haired woman's profile she could see the lack of light from them, a cold... detachment. Separated from the light of the outside world.
"Flawed in Originium Arts Assimilation... Well, it seems this Operator is fully specialized in Physical Strength, then. All other parameters, especially Endurance, are in a pleasant range."
"How can you be sure this blotted text signifies something positive?" Theresa tested.
He sent her a deadpan look. "We needn't discuss this, lest you take me for an utter buffoon." Why would they need to redact an attribute if not to hide dangerous information? Potentially, even something beyond imagination.
"Hah. There's no way to get through that thick hide of yours." Theresa crossed her arms. "It doesn't matter now. I do want to say though, Operator Skadi might not be suitable for this Schutzstaffel because of a certain factor." Her sights hovered a certain line of text in relation to the woman's Operator File.
"...I can see how," Jugram admitted. "Inversely to the impressive Physical Exam, Operator Skadi holds the occupation of a Bounty Hunter. Troublesome, if it withholds a large portion of her time."
"That isn't counting her attitude." Theresa pointed to another line of text. "It's troublesome for anybody to contact or connect with her because of her reclusive personality."
"I'll see how far this unruliness extends when the time comes for it. For now, considered."
"Then I pray, during that time, you'll have adequate approaches."
He glanced back to the terminal device, scrolling to another file. "Operator... Flamebringer? A new recruit? Ex-Reunion?" The Physical Exam was acceptable, and the fact he wasn't somebody tied to another occupation...
"I know this one." Theresa hovered over his shoulder, eyes never once leaving the image.
"You do?"
"A Sarkaz Mercenary born in the fires of war, and there he forged his own identity in steel and blood. From slums, to nomadic cities, and all across Kazdel, he could be found with a crimson trail."
"From what you're saying, he must have been a reputable figure."
"Notorious would fit the moniker more. Many viewed and feared him as a bloodthirsty warrior fallen to maniacy, and I remember glancing at his written crimes from Laterano. They were almost innumerable"
"A barbarian," Jugram mirthlessly sighed. How had Rhodes Island come to recruit him? The notion of the Sarkaz being accepted as an Operator was... bizarre.
"He's survived countless wars. Sarkaz are born of wars beyond their measure, and they can do nothing but force themselves to stand up to it." Empathy graced her eyes. "Some like him, have learnt to kill before they've even spoken, before they've even received a name."
"A kind bred by war for war," Jugram denoted. "I've read a scant few books about Kazdel during my tenure in Rhodes Island. They were biased."
"Even if they were biased, you should be more aware of Kazdel's war torn state." Theresa's inflection turned sorrowful, before she returned to the topic of Flamebringer, "he has a penchant for battles to an indulgent magnitude. I hope you know how to handle a tenacious Sarkaz, Jugram."
"I believe he should seek to ascertain a new hobby if that is the case," Jugram dryly remarked. "So what if he lusts for a pointless battle? I've tolerated his kind before."
Gerard Valkyrie. Boisterous Quincy who once ruled over the soon-to-be acculturated Midgardian section of Europa—for he swore fealty to God and the Lichtreich—grinned widely the moment his eyes met the Sternritter Grandmaster. First meeting, first bout, so tedious to the point where Jugram would rue the day such an encounter ever sparks again in the future.
When he struck the man down, he stood back up as if nothing had happened. Those were the most lucid moments of his life, a once dead man rising up and laughing—walking away as if naught was wrong with the world.
Heart of the Soul King for a reason.
"Dealt with his kind?" Theresa interrupted his ruminations. "Have you?"
Jugram's expression stiffened imperceptibly. "Gerard Valkyrie. Quincy who ruled the Midgardian barracks like a berserker-king. I lost more Soldats taming him than I did fighting any Quincy dissenters. He grinned when I struck him down." He sucked in a deep breath. "Only to rise up the next second. Again, and again, and again."
He had almost considered calling for Lille Barro.
She perked up. "Oh?" Hearing of another world was always enticing, especially if she in turn learned more about this enigmatic man.
"He eventually joined the Lichtreich when His Majesty stood before him. As it stood, my battle with him would have lengthened to eternity." He could feel Theresa's curious gaze, as if probing him for more. "...Nevermind those past phantoms. I desire not to bathe in them any longer. Operator Flamebringer will adhere to conformity—eventually. Considered."
"I see. Good luck with Flamebringer." She smiled, a smile Jugram did not like.
Ignoring it, he scrolled to the next file. "Operator Hellagur, another new recruit, though less inclined for battle." Jugram narrowed his eyes, weighing something in his mind. "Considered..."
"...A Hippogryph," Theresa muttered under her breath.
"He may not prefer to join the Schutzstaffel, I assume. A... remnant of the Azazel Clinic." He remembered it distinctly. They were the same ones who had refused Rhodes Island's assistance sometime in Chernobog. Now they are here. Ironic.
"Then why did you consider him?"
"I see in Operator Hellagur's eyes a veteran. Albeit jaded, he may still fit," he elaborated. "The main purpose of the Schutzstaffel is as its translated name implies—a protection squadron—even if I intend it to repel war, should war ever rear its head our way. There is still a chance he would acclimate well to the Schutzstaffel's condition."
The Sarkaz lingered on one of his words. "Jaded... You're right. Just through this image, I can see how he can be." Theresa's eyes softened. "Whether he desires to step into the battlefield once more will dictate whether he agrees to your request or not."
Jugram nodded, plainly stating, "I doubt he would agree." He scrolled off the screen, the Sarkaz having long since lost the fervor in aiding him with his digital misadventures.
Then, something caught his eye. It left him at an em passe with himself, eyes seldom widening when he saw another recognizable name from his previous world.
"...Operator Surtr," Jugram murmured, flocks of old Quincy mythology soaring through his mind as he set PRTS down.
Lo' and behold, the flame-titan from the abyss, who spews onychine magma as a sick man would vomit bile, spine stretched heavensward, body as vast as prairies, and frame as mountains set ablaze.
The sky was blood, the river was smoke, desolation followed its wake as the earth did tremble.
It was then the Miracle of God—descent from the Empire of Light—hath rent it asunder with but a word, the baleful creature's entrails left as nothing but a tale of yore, a fume amongst lips.
Wrought into obsidian stone; its viscera hath been splayed across the deepest trenches of molten mountains.
Thus was a message to all other pantheons, and all other false gods, for whom dares trespass the the sublimity of the LORD shalt have their dominion shattered forevermore.
Amen. (Lille 5:1-15).
"Found in the outskirts of Ursus and brought for treatment in Rhodes Island by a scouting team. Parameters within Physical Exam... leave much to be desired." Fluctuating heat recordings however, intrigued him—especially since it came from her sword—despite her Originium Arts Assimilation being labelled as flawed. "Considered."
"I wouldn't have expected you to consider her." Theresa arched a brow. "What convinced you?"
"Instinct."
"You chose her by instinct?" The Sarkaz blinked. "Jugram Haschwalth, ever the pragmatic, is acting on instinct?"
"This same instinct has left me alive for a thousand years. It is invaluable in the same way logic is." Jugram picked up PRTS and scrolled again, coursing through profiles at hefty speeds.
Theresa thrummed her index finger against the desk. "Now that I ponder it. They work together closely, don't you think?" Now, if only the Sternritter Grandmaster could work well with others on Rhodes Island.
She very much craved to see Amiya now, perhaps accompany her as she toiled playfully with the children? Oh, a priceless experience it would be. If only to relive those vanished days.
"Just as I have seen some warriors utilize rage as a tool, so should instinct and logic be a sword and pen..." Jugram stopped scrolling. "It seems we have our next candidate." His eyes locked onto a file.
"The sixth one?" Theresa counted on her fingers each member considered so far. "Operator Jessica, Operator Hellagur, Operator Flamebringer, Operator Surtr, Operator Skadi, and now..."
"Operator Phantom. He's interesting." Deftly, he ignored those pointless thoughts, and found somebody he could tell held great potential.
"I'm not one to judge from a simple picture alone, but you're correct. A peculiar one this is." For Theresa, it was almost as interesting as the Operator named Surtr. Although she couldn't quite put her finger as to why. It required a more extensive look into them, mainly an in-person one.
"Some parts of his files hold the highest clearance level needed to access. A dead giveaway." Jugram wondered if Kal'tsit would be happy if he were to consider this one. "Everything is line to my standards. Considered."
Theresa glanced at the assortment. "I feel as if you have one more qualifying standard you haven't mentioned."
Jugram set down the PRTS device, turning it off and standing up from his seat. "I haven't," he confirmed. "I can't tell their soul compatibility without first meeting them in person. It has been scheduled for next week, and Dr. Kal'tsit requires a report before I do so."
The light from the computer and terminal which painted faint halos on the walls were no longer there. The low hum of Rhodes Island's landship was the only sound that remained between them. Jugram hadn't turned from the empty screen in some time. Theresa, arms crossed in thought, found herself more less a participant in his work reflecting back on the previous hour.
She tapped the table twice with her knuckle, the sound registering softly and catching Jugram's attention. "I think I'll go for now."
Jugram's eyes shifted just enough to acknowledge her. "You're not staying?" He was already aware of her autonomy.
"I've offered my thoughts where I could. Besides..." She tilted her head, fingers gently brushing through a loose strand of silvery hair, "there's someone I've been meaning to see."
He raised a brow, but already knew who she was implicating. "You know as well as I do. You cannot be seen by anybody else."
"I know." She said it without a trace of hurt. Acceptance was the only fidelity. "But it doesn't mean I can't still visit."
Jugram said nothing.
With that all familiar smile, Theresa turned on her heel and paced toward the exit.. Her steps made no sound, her fingers brushed against the button, and the only thing Jugram saw was a faint glance his way as the automatic door slowly closed.
"You've overworked your mind," she said. "It's easy to find yourself lost. Don't lose yourself further."
He glanced toward her, but the door was fully closed, and she was gone.
Only the low, quiet buzz of his terminal remained, PRTS flashing its screen once more.
His attention turned to it, tired, seldom confused, but he merely let out a sigh.
Advanced technology these days. It would eventually turn off on its own, so he did not let himself become distracted and wandered off to other thoughts.
He had to wonder if the previous nights of sleep had done him any good. The war against Soul Society had been left on the back of his mind for quite a while now, especially after he had been amongst the many casualties. It was amazing how adaptable his mind was, able to—for even a second—forget the events that had transpired back then.
Perhaps it had to do with his acceptance and knowledge of the outcome. Whatever it was, Jugram desired not to delve into the murky waters of that matter too much. May the past latch unto him as a phantom would, persistently and relentlessly, but there wasn't a foreseeable method for him to ever return to those Spiritual Worlds. He doubted he would ever wish to return.
How quaint. He found himself with dry mirth.
Mixed feelings he had, and he couldn't find the time to digest those at the moment. Breaking down such polysaccharides would take far too much time.
...Now he needed to visit the Medical Bay.
***
Corridors bled into shadow the deeper she went, fading light pooling like ink in each corner. Few Operators crossed her path, but none saw her. An Operator passed inches from her shoulder, humming faintly to herself, unaware of the Sarkaz silently walking beside her.
She turned left at the hallway's end, seeing an end to the canals. The Medical Bay came into view, a familiar sight she ingrained once before into her mind, changed much, but enough to make it become enigmatic to herself. It wasn't her destination.
She came to another room. Adolescent Residential Care. It housed the Infected children of Rhodes Island, many who were abandoned by their parents. It was a tragedy.
Theresa touched the door leading to it ever so slightly, the automatic door facilitating her entrance. She had done so when somebody was close by, so none was the wiser when she had opened it.
There, she saw her. Amiya.
Theresa leaned gently on the doorframe after stepping inside, gazing with half-lidded eyes.
The children gathered around the CEO of Rhodes Island, Amiya, laughing heartily with the energetic children. Despite the black growths upon their legs, elbows, or hands; the pain had been quenched with the brief respite provided in that very moment.
"An experience on par with medicine itself... You're trying so hard, Amiya" she whispered to the empty space. "It strikes my heart with both joy and pain."
She hadn't received a response from the Cautus, as she continued to bashfully chase the children, a smile across her face.
Theresa couldn't help but smile warmly herself. "I wonder... what you would say if you could see me?"
The incandescent lights in the room flickered. Theresa lingered a moment longer, arms gently folded. Just long enough to remember the warmth of hands that once reached upward, the innocence in a child's eye, the trust beholden in a world with strife.
She looked back. Instead of one pair, there were a dozen.
Closing her eyes, satisfied, Theresa walked on.
Yet, unbeknownst to her, a white-horned Sarkaz had glanced her way from a corner of the hallway.
***
He was in the Medical Bay once more. A delicate glance to the side and he saw a certain white-haired Vampire scamper out of his sight, no doubt to avoid him. Jugram could hazard a guess as to why. He must have not restrained his Reiatsu well enough when executing it in controlled bursts against the woman, seeing how she had attempted to draw his blood without consent before.
Machinery once more surrounded him like a circumfix, each and every piece of technology serving their purpose in bated, beeping breaths. As a spectator, Jugram had to wonder if with their incessant huffs they could be capable of breathing new life into patients, just as an invisible empire attempted before. In a way, the Wadenreich had perfected some form of industrial life, creating cyborgs and androids with the assistance of Reishi.
Unfortunately, the knowledge he had accumulated from the Wandenreich's Militärische Forschung und Entwicklung in relation to the creation of artificial life forms was hardly enough to match the same understanding as the sector's researchers. Doubly so because this world—once again—lacked any form of Reishi that he could manipulate and malleate to his own needs.
If the scientists and researchers had found out he had been half-listening to their jargonic rambling about Quincy Technology, they without a doubt, would feel a vile choler develop inside their bodies. Even as the Sternritter Grandmaster, Jugram Haschwalth wished not to be a witness of their "passionate" explanations.
No. Just no.
Jugram already had enough of Hubert's and Lille's dogmatic rehearsals of His Majesty The Almighty, especially since it was also himself who memorized every praise and explanation that related to said Majesty. Of course, if one stands under God as His Other Half, what else could they do other than articulating their foe's shortcomings when in face of Monad?
...He was losing track of his thoughts—
"Dr. Haschwalth."
On cue to the soft calling of his name, Jugram steadily turned around to meet the subject who bespoke it. "Senior Medical Operator, Shining." He instantly knew who it was. "You match profiles."
"It seems you've done your research." She stood in front of him, two ivory horns sticking out from the hood over her head, ebony drapes mimicking death's embrace, and a thin sheathed blade cradled by one arm. Life and spirituality leaked from it soothingly, untainted, and calm
But how much of it is truly untainted? Jugram knew the Sarkaz woman was far more than what met the eye. "While it's flattering for one to receive recognition over their work, I'd much rather finish with this examination as quickly as possible."
"Short time on your hands?" Shining asked, motioning for him to follow. He did.
"Short for the activities I still require to be settled."
"Then I hope you do not overexert yourself," Shining said, the two entering the private quarters of a medical room. "Have a seat." She made way for him, and Jugram complied.
"What's the occasion?"
Shining moved to the other side of the room, setting down her sheathed blade. "Aside from your concerns associated with your heart, If I recall correctly, you possess a form of retrograde amnesia." Disposable sanitary gloves were picked out from their boxes and worn.
"It was that particular one, no other designated amnesia was diagnosed," Jugram confirmed.
She mulled over his circumstances. "Amnesia that disables the ability to recall past memories... That would have complicated many matters in regards to your once daily life." Her hands tactfully moved through medical tools, a practiced precision and art.
"I wouldn't doubt it already has. But no matter, it's not much of a bother."
"With the drastic changes you've undergone? I would expect so." Shining hummed, mind drawing what she barely knew of the past Doctor, and the current one. Not to mention, "Margaret spoke a great deal about you."
He didn't look surprised. "Operator Nearl? She has?"
"Indeed." She placed certain tools on a table, before sagaciously clicking buttons on machines, not even glancing at what she clicked. It took a certain skill and experience to achieve such a feat, and the Grandmaster could recognize it.
"I'm honored," he replied as the due process for respect demanded, hardly any inflection present. A brief silence filled with the hum and whirr of medical contraptions were the only thing that filled his ears for a moment.
"I'm glad to hear." Shining turned back, finding his appearance to be very similar to her friend's own, but she left it unsaid. "Barring your amnesia, let's proceed with your daily check-up. Please, take off your cloak and unbutton your uniform."
He complied and set it on a clothes stand nearby, before settling back down on his seat with practiced elegance. The blonde-haired man almost crossed his legs, but halted himself in remembrance that this was not the occasion to permit so.
"Thank you." The Sarkaz walked up to him, each step measured, instinctually ingrained in a way a soldier would. A stethoscope was in hand, and an ECG machine—displaying disconnected data—was just by the seat Jugram was by. "I'll make it as quick as protocol allows."
Silently, he let the professional go on with her work, placing the object against his bare chest and listening in closely. "Relatively normal. No evidence telling of gallop or friction rub, or any abnormalities. The results match the first time Dr. Kal'tsit and Dr. Warfarin had examined you."
"No problems I presume?"
"This is exactly where the problem lies." She pulled back the stethoscope, before checking the ECG. "It doesn't match a certain set of data gathered back in Chernobog by Operator Medic."
Jugram sucked in a calm breath. "Has Dr. Kal'tsit informed you?" He knew a line such as that anywhere.
Shining gave a quiet nod. Her expression was unreadable, a disturbing sense of calm stipulation. "Only in part. She requested a second opinion regarding anomalies found in your myocardial electrical conductivity. Specifically, inconsistencies with your QRS complex morphology and fluctuations in ST segment elevation. Given your apparent baseline bradycardia, and the absence of compensatory mechanisms under duress, it's... sorely perplexing."
She tapped a gloved finger gently against the ECG monitor as it displayed the rhythm of Jugram's heart. His vitals flickered across the screen, digitized in its conventional glory.
"Normal sinus rhythm, yes," she continued, "but your ventricular depolarization rate... it occasionally exceeds the expected norm for your resting state. Almost as if your heart compensates preemptively, like it's expecting an influx of something it can't metabolize. This is not new data, it equates to what was analyzed back in Chernobog by Medic."
Jugram felt his brows knit. "Elaborate."
Shining folded her arms, nodding slowly, taking a seat at a chair opposite of him. " It's a pattern that mimics Catecholaminergic Polymorphic Ventricular Tachycardia, except your blood catecholamine levels show no spikes. Although a stretch, it shows relation to the different properties Originium could afflict upon some patients." Her black eyes held him with more scrutiny. "Even if ultimately, your condition is unrelated to Originium."
"...Unrelated to Originium." Jugram could feel his lips thinning. For a moment, he saw the Sarkaz woman glance around the room, before walking to the door of the medical room and locking it, almost sending him to a veiled state of alarm.
"Don't worry," Shining reassured him with a glance back, face visible underneath her black cowl. "This is for privacy concerns. Dr. Kal'tsit would not want volatile information such as this leaking out."
"...If she entrusts you with such..." Jugram left the last part unsaid: Then I don't believe I trust you either.
"Please, this is over concerns for your health." She could tell his alertness hadn't eased, moving back to her previous position, on the opposite chair. Then, she cleared her throat when he remained silent. "Anyways, yes—unrelated to Originium as I said—where most health complications relate to its infectious side effect." Shining gave him a discreet glance. "Dr. Kal'tsit had told me Oripathy is not a concern for you. Still, Oripathy or not, you've overstepped your natural biochemistry. If I were to be frank, this is unquestionably in relation to your ability over—"
Jugram noticed how she hadn't called it Arts. Dr. Kal'tsit has informed her well. Too well.
"—Manipulating unknown and absurd concepts such as a Balance over fortune and misfortune. I assume you're forcing an unknown strain into a system designed for regulated, linear stimulus. A comparison I can draw is, take for example: Sarkaz bloodlines suffering backlash from certain high-scale Sarkaz Witchcraft."
He questioned, "Would you suggest my cardiac rhythm is attempting to regulate an imbalance I create myself? Similar to Oripathy and Originium side effects, but substituting causation?" That was the best conclusion he could draw from the connotations the Sarkaz was giving him.
"Exactly," Shining said, standing up, turning around, and then stepping to record notes on a terminal. "But more specifically, your body is manufacturing a homeostatic paradox. The moment you exert your ability, your cardiovascular system begins to respond as if it must balance the consequences before they even arrive. By the time they're done, that is when you're stricken ill by complications. It's a mess."
He liked the word she used. Balance. It definitely explained things he could understand intimately. "And if that 'balance' is overdone, tipped to a breaking point..."
Shining completed it for him. "Sudden cardiac arrest. A failure cascade. A medical problem deeply-rooted in only what Oripathy can cause—but the root cause is unrelated to Oripathy."
Jugram could feel his fingers tensing. What has happened after Auswählen? He knew the problem was seated in the holy light which had struck him from the skies, but what was the direct origin of his predicament that came as a result of Auswählen?
Why was it related to his heart and these cardiac functions?
Shining gave a small nod. "We're monitoring for paroxysmal arrhythmias, and we've begun testing for resonance irregularities in your biofield using the Originium-based scanners. But I'll be honest: Rhodes Island's medical technology can only interpret so much of what isn't entirely related to Originium."
Jugram didn't miss it. "Will this become a festering problem?"
"...Refrain from using that ability, especially when it comes to splitting a Catastrophe, and maybe it won't." Her voice left practically no room for argument. "For such a vital organ acting akin to an anchor for your life, you need to take special care of it."
"Understood." This had been the millionth time somebody had told him to restrict his abilities, counting Chernobog.
"...If that is so, then I hope you take my words seriously." Shining glanced at the clock. "I've held you for quite the wedge of time, you are dismissed. Please do inform Dr. Kal'tsit, Dr. Warfarin, and I for any abnormalities or irregularities you detect."
He fastened the buttons on his double-breasted cloak, nodding. "I appreciate your candor, Operator Shining." Jugram stood up, walking to the cloak he had set up on the sterile clothes stand not too far away.
She tilted her head. "I'll be watching your condition restlessly as all Senior Medical Operators will, so I hope you follow our suggestions. If not, perhaps I may be forced to sedate you for a week."
That caused him to pause and furrowed his brow. "Come again?"
"Surely, you are aware that I jest?" A hint of mirth could barely be seen on the Sarkaz's lips as she received his confused glare.
Mumbling something underneath his breath, Jugram shook his head. "Yes, yes, of course you jest." His mood had dropped at the prospect of his abilities being a far more distinct problem than he could have imagined.
Toil and scream as he may at what kismet hath cursed him with, the very force he once held in the palm of his hands, it wouldn't change a thing. He no longer sat atop that throne on high.
His breath seldom stilted as he stood at the doorway, glancing down at the lock. Just as his hand had reached its way sardonically, he could hear Shining call to him for one last time, the knob half-turned.
"Also, Dr. Haschwalth." For whatever discernable reason made by the Sternritter Grandmaster, he could tell her voice had fallen to a far more neutral flat. It was enough to make him feel as if the room had turned more grey.
"...I'm listening. One last thing to say?" Jugram side-eyed her from the shoulder.
"A tip or advice from one who has dabbled in life to another." Those words Shining, the Black Fiend of a former life spoke, caused a faint tremor in her own voice. "I wouldn't suggest you haphazardly dip your hands in our souls."
Jugram froze.