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polaristranslations · 5 years ago

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Shiogi Ranger

001

Hagihara Shiogi was an experienced tactician, Yukariki Ichihime was an adaptable string master, and Saijou Tamamo was a reckless berserker. That's why, even though those three were completely equal high school students just like me, they were beings that were completely different from me—although, recalling the fact that I myself had transformed into a mighty vampire over that spring break, then even if we were completely different living beings, you could perhaps say that we were completely equal monsters in that respect, so it was hard to judge.

Anyway, allow me to introduce them, one by one.

Hagihara Shiogi. Sumiyuri Academy third-year.

The academy was one that strived to gather various kids with various circumstances and train them into graceful Yamato nadeshiko, or perhaps into elegant combatants, and she happened to be that academy's representative—for my own convenience, I took it to mean that she's something like the student council president, but the title of tactician was not quite so easy to understand. Despite being in the middle of training herself, she had placed the academy under a substantial amount of control, like a shogi player manipulating the pieces on a board, so it was awfully awe-inspiring—if I wanted to look for someone similar to her at Naoetsu High, then there probably wasn't anyone other than Hanekawa. But, a high schooler that could actually compare to Hanekawa? Just the thought of it sent chills down my spine—not to mention, unlike Hanekawa who was primarily of the intellectual type, this tactician was well-versed in martial arts, which made her all the more difficult to manage.

Yukariki Ichihime. Sumiyuri Academy second-year.

A combatant that the tactician placed her trust in—however, her main role was to be in charge of searching for the enemy. As a string master—to put it simply, it was more or less a user of strings—she wove a complex system of "invisible threads" in all directions like a spider building a nest, using it to grasp the situation. It was apparently a technique she acquired from a "master" that went by the name of Shisei Yuma, but in a way, she'd already surpassed her master—the skill with which she used the gloves she inherited was far more accurate than even high-tech radars, and far more gruesome as well. However, just because she was entrusted with a support-like role did not mean that she was lacking in combat prowess at all—in fact, she was in that role because her combat prowess was exceedingly high. For the tactician who would use any means to achieve her duties, she thought "it would be unsportsmanlike to put this kouhai on the front lines" and decided to put that transcendental skill—in other words, Yukariki Ichihime—in reserve. The spider's thread that she wove around could just as easily turn into sharp sawblades with exceptional cutting ability. Even the legendary vampire had had her limbs cut off once before, and even I had more or less been chopped up into pieces before, but even so, I'd probably say that that was preferable to the fate of the victims that had gotten in her way.

Saijou Tamamo. Sumiyuri Academy first-year.

A combatant that the tactician didn't place her trust in—a berserker. If there existed high school girls that were born for the sake of combat, then she would certainly be one of them, and if there existed high school girls that were born for the sake of killing, then once again, she would certainly be one of them. The large knives, far larger than the usual 15 cm kind, that she gripped in both hands reminded me of the vampire hunter, Dramaturgy—however, she was not a solidly-built giant but a cute and lovely girl. However, the number of people that Saijou Tamamo had killed up until now surely far surpassed the number of brethren that Dramaturgy had exterminated. As for what those vacant eyes of hers was focused on, there was no one who knew. Not even she herself knew.

Tactician. String master. Berserker.

This ridiculous three-man cell of rangers was said to equal an entire country's troops with just the three of them—and it was none other than humanity's strongest contractor that had said so, so I probably couldn't take it as a simple joke. However, with that in mind, the facts were just too hard to accept—that I, someone who was "completely ordinary with no good points", would end up taking on all three of them at the same time.

It was like it had been fabricated.

Yes, as if it wasn't a story, but nonsense.

In the latest work of the series, "Musubimonogatari", I, Araragi Koyomi, had splendidly grown up into a fine 23-year-old, but this was an event that occurred after I'd only just turned 18—that is, near the end of April. If you'll allow me to use some know-it-all specialist terminology, then this incident occurred some time between "Kizumonogatari" and "Nekomonogatari (Black)". However, as things were, without even making it to "Musubimonogatari", I would have lost my life before even running into the various oddities that appeared after "Nekomonogatari (Black)"—becoming a 23-year-old would have been but a dream within a dream.

By the way, I'd be happy if you could still remember that three-way intersection.

After all the blood was sucked out of me by the iron-blooded, hot-blooded, cold-blooded vampire, and after I'd been reduced into a dreadful vampire, I'd fallen into a pincer attack from three sides by Dramaturgy, who killed those of his own kind; Episode, the half-vampire; and Guillotinecutter, who fancied himself a god—it was that very same intersection. At those very same coordinates, I ended up going through the exact same experience.

No, I could even say that the situation was even worse than that time.

After all, unlike during spring break, I couldn't rely on Oshino to help me—of course, that middle-aged guy in a Hawaiian shirt would claim that he didn't remember helping me at all, and that he was just keeping the balance between humans and oddities. But if I were to accept that twisted view, then that made me even more certain that he would not gallantly appear to save me in this case.

After all, those three that had me in a pincer attack this time were not oddity specialists at all.

They were human specialists.

Those girls were not trying to exterminate me as a vampire—they were trying to exterminate me as a human. Good grief.

However, I'd managed to just barely survive that hellish spring break in some way or another after this and that—I hadn't yielded to Dramaturgy's dual swords or Episode's gigantic cross or even Guillotinecutter's despicable hostage-taking strategy. So if I were to be murdered by these three girls in the same breath, or rather in the same spurt of blood, then I'd just feel sorry for those three men.

I'd show them that I could survive once again—even without Oshino.

I'd show them that I'd be able to survive, even if I wasn't a vampire.

Because one day, I wanted to appear in a mystery novel like, "My classmate that was supposed to have died during high school invited me to a class reunion...?", or something along those lines.

And I didn't want to appear as the "classmate that was supposed to have died".

But there was no time to cower. Now, at this three-way intersection where all roads lead to hell, what road should I take?

To take the right path and fight the berserker → proceed to 002.

To take the left path and fight the string master → proceed to 003.

To take the back path and fight the tactician → proceed to 004.

"Wooooobble... wobble."

"Your purpose will be cut off here."

"Even if the opponent is a vampire, my name is Hagihara Shiogi. By any means, fair or foul, I'll shoot you from head-on."

These roads leading to hell were full to the brim with high school girls in arms.

002

Without much room to make a decision, I broke into a run down the right path. Since the foolish option of cowering in place was out of the question, then I was convinced that this was the wisest path out of the three-way intersection.

However, this judgment seemed to go against common sense. Instinctively, it did not seem like a particularly preferable way to go. The reason being that, the one approaching me from the right path, Tamamo-chan, was the unique member of the three-man cell of rangers that was very obviously and very visibly brandishing weapons.

In both hands, she was wielding knives unbefitting of her physique, that you could mistake for hatchets or even axes.

Normally, I'd say you'd be crazy to deliberately choose such a terrifying path that involved encountering such a terrifying girl, but right now, you could hardly call this a normal situation—with that in mind, I placed a great amount of importance on the fact that Tamamo-chan did not seem used to those two knives of hers.

Indeed, those knives looked truly brutal.

However, when I focused, not on her hands, but on her legs.

Tamamo-chan's movements seemed extremely erratic—whether you described it as a staggering gait, or as if she were a fawn that had just been born, she was walking as if she were drunk, swaying back and forth as she moved forward, like Yajirobe.

She was surely being swung around by the weight of her knifes, which was why she couldn't walk straight. It was as the saying went: too much was as bad as too little. It would be like a beginner that thought, "The most expensive one is obviously the best one", and ended up buying a computer that was uselessly high-spec.

By not being fooled by her intimidating appearance, seeing through her true nature, and deliberately rushing down the path that looked the most dangerous—I surely resembled a hero that had managed to overcome a great number of battles.

Speaking of her appearance, Tamamo-chan, like a normal high schooler, was wearing a track suit. However, very much unlike a normal high schooler, her track suit was in tatters—I assumed that she was so unused to her knives that she ended up cutting her own clothes (and her cropped hairstyle was probably for the same reason), but what attracted my attention was not the fact that her track suit was in tatters, but that the design of her track suit was the bloomers kind—no, it's not that I was focusing on her bloomers.

Even if she was a high school girl, just what era was this high school girl from?—I happened to be someone who was incredibly strong-willed against those younger than me, but with that in mind, I couldn't feel the intensity of a veteran emanating from Tamamo-chan at all, let alone the sense that she'd had many battles' worth of experience... Really, bloomers?

If you looked down at me from a bird's-eye point of view, it might have looked as if I'd simply made a beeline for a high school girl in bloomers, which gave off a pretty problematic impression, but it wasn't like I was planning to tackle her slim body just like that—not in the slightest. Even if she wasn't used to them, knives were still knives. If we ended up grappling, then I wouldn't necessarily be safe from getting slashed even at random—I couldn't take that risk. Unlike when I was attacked at this intersection over spring break, I was no longer immortal now.

I had no intention of sparing any effort in escaping from this predicament I'd fallen into, but neither did I plan to engage in battle with a high school girl that had undergone special training—the reason I went with this forward-bent dash was not in order to fight, but in order to avoid fighting.

It was a stylish act of escapism.

As Tamamo-chan's footsteps unsteadily tottered left and right, I was planning on quickly slipping past around her. Doing so shouldn't necessarily be impossible to achieve... If I made sure to stay wary of the edges of the knives, it should actually be rather easy.

If a giant like Dramaturgy had been standing in my way, then there wouldn't have been an opening on this straight road to slip past, but as for Tamamo-chan, she was much more petite than I was, and she was walking while colliding with the walls beside her, like some sort of automatic vacuum cleaner. With each collision, she'd change her trajectory, all the while drawing closer to me—if so, then when she tottered to the right, then it was simply a matter of heading for the left.

Though it was a road, there was still width to it. That was all it was.

"Wooooobble... wobble... wobble."

See, even Tamamo-chan herself was murmuring her own onomatopoeia for how she tottered back and forth—that was proof that those massive weapons were too much for her. Together, those two knives surely weighed even more than Tamamo-chan herself, so it was a simple matter of universal gravitation—however, what I was making was a complete misunderstanding.

And it wasn't that those boorish knives weren't all that heavy.

It was that her weapons (kyouki) weren't too much for her at all—if there was something that was too much for her, it would be her madness (kyouki).

"Wob! Ble!"

Though it should have been onomatopoeia to express her precarious tottering, she'd suddenly shrieked it at full force—and all of a sudden, Tamamo-chan moved deftly, leaping in front of me where I'd been trying to slip past her.

She'd moved like she was in a sidestepping exercise test. No, it was like teleportation.

She was actually using the weight of the knives and her own lightness to her advantage.

She came after me as if she were falling over against the wall on my side—if I had turned my eyes away for an instant in fear of the knives' sharpness, I would absolutely have gotten stabbed right then.

I twisted backwards to dodge the blades. If Tamamo-chan's movements were from a sidestepping exercise test, then my movements would be the exercise in which you "turned your torso to elongate your spine"—it wasn't the kind of stretch you wanted to suddenly do after dashing at full force, and doing so would absolutely hurt your lower back, but I couldn't just let my heart get stabbed in order to preserve my lower back.

Your back couldn't replace your internal organs.

As a result, the knife in her right hand stabbed into a telephone pole in my place. The knife went in deep, up to the hilt, into the pole—eh? No way, were telephone poles constructed out of something that could be stabbed into like that?

Although I'd never once thought about what the inside of a telephone pole was made up of...

"I got you now—"

With an absentminded, practically monotonous tone of voice, Tamamo-chan spoke as if the telephone pole had been her target from the beginning—in fact, she hadn't once turned to look at me, who'd stopped in place. She was still facing away from me.

"My—name is, Saijou Tamamo-chan. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyes. Saisaisaisaisaisaisaijou Tamamo, Saijou Tamamo. Yesyesyesyes. I am Tamamo. Tamamo I am."

"......"

Yikes. What was with this girl?

Had I, perhaps, taken the worst possible path I could've taken?

Putting aside her two knives... Had Saijou Tamamo actually been someone to properly fear?

"Wait... Hold on. Tamamo-chan. Let's talk."

"Right, let's talk killing. Kill talking. Killer king. King is me. No. King Hagihara is senpai—I am."

Wow.

Hohey.

And, while I could only think of such a dull thing to say (if anything, I was probably saying "pawn (hohei)" instead), Tamamo-chan pulled her knife out of the telephone pole with a twisting motion—and that "pulling motion" became one and the same as a "motion to stab me".

Like something straight out of the art of iai, she made to slash at me in a single movement.

If she had been using a Japanese sword, then perhaps it could have been considered the kesagiri motion, but with that boorish knife of hers, it felt more like she was chopping wood.

To be honest, rather than the blades themselves, I was more afraid of her ability to slash at me without hesitation—without any emotion whatsoever, she was moving to cut me in half as if it were as natural as breathing.

It wasn't even bending backwards—I ended up doing some form of backflip in order to dodge that knife. You might think that a dodge like that was trying too hard to be cool, and that it was exaggerated and irrational, but in order to face Tamamo-chan, who moved in eccentric ways, I had no choice to use eccentric movements as well.

Though I'd succeeded in dodging her attack, I messed up my landing. So if I wanted to score myself, I'd give it 50 points out of 100, but at this point it wasn't all that different from 0 points—if the saying went 50 of one and half of 100 of the other, this was more like 50 of one and 0 of the other. I may as well come up with a new saying that went, if you only go halfway, that's basically the same as standing still—but was I really busying myself with coming up with a new saying here?

"Wooooobble, wobble, wobble. Wowowowowo—"

Of course, I'd collapsed onto the asphalt by then (since I'd messed up a backflip, I was more than fortunate that I didn't break my neck), so I'd expected either of her two knives to come swinging down at me next, but Tamamo-chan's next attack was, for some reason, directed at the telephone pole again.

Did she have some sort of grudge against the pole? Jeez, this girl.

Taking the hilt of her knife, she loudly and violently bashed it into the telephone pole again and again.

...I didn't understand the meaning behind her actions, but I began to think that I might be able to slip around her like this, and slowly started to crawl away—and just then, Tamamo-chan turned her eyes towards me.

No, her eyes weren't facing (muiteiru) me at all. If anything, they were just wide open (muiteiru).

Though her head had turned towards me, her line of sight was following a completely different vector, and the movements of her legs and her arms were all over the place. Her form lacked any sense or reason, but somehow, the tip of her knife was extremely accurate in heading for me.

It seemed that, like a sensor, she acted on reflex to anything that moved—that must have been why, instead of going for me on the ground, she'd gone for the telephone pole that was wavering unsteadily, its balance having been disrupted.

My goodness.

To think that lying on the ground and not getting back up was actually the right thing to do.

In my crawling position, I had no other way to dodge but to roll over on the ground—my choices were getting more and more limited, and my survival skills were becoming more and more pathetic.

This time, the knife that swung down towards me stabbed into the asphalt.

Was this world made out of tofu?

However, the tofu this time was on my side. In other words, the weight of the knife had actually turned against Tamamo-chan—she was unable to pull the knife that had gotten stuck vertically into the ground.

"One knife is enough."

However, Tamamo-chan was not just quick in her movements but also in giving up. Without exerting any more effort in trying to pull it out, she let go of the knife's hilt, and switched over to the task of killing me using her remaining knife—it was true that, in order to kill me, a single knife would be sufficient (although the joke of one knife (naifu) being enough (inaffu) was unfortunately very funny. I felt like I wanted to use it myself in the future, if I managed to survive).

However, that opening had given me enough time to stand back up. It may sound like a bit of a surprise to hear this, but I was, at the very least, capable of getting back up.

Of course, even that movement of standing up made Tamamo-chan react.

As if she were being magnetically drawn in, she instantaneously leapt towards my chest. I wouldn't deny the fact that every man more or less had the desire for a girl in an exposed track suit to leap towards his chest, but when that girl was carrying knives, the story changed quite a bit—Tamamo-chan was rather like a Venus flytrap, as she wouldn't react if I didn't move, but not moving when a knife was pointed at you was effectively impossible.

However, since I'd managed to understand that property of hers, it didn't seem right to turn my back on Tamamo-chan and run away from her at full speed—the faster I moved, she was sure to move even faster.

The result ended up being that I stood in the same place and evaded Tamamo-chan's knife with the smallest possible movement—of course, performing such a boxer-like achievement was pretty much impossible for a mere high schooler like me, so my uniform slowly began to tear into pieces. My outfit was turning into a matching set with Tamamo-chan's. It almost looked like we were good friends. What could we do as a pair?

Rather than dodging by the skin of my teeth, I was dodging by the skin of my neck.

If there was some small salvation in all of this, it would be that her attacks were only coming from her knife—she wasn't hitting me with her bare hand or kicking me with her gym shoes. Without any headbutting or elbowing, either, she fully stuck to her fencing style.

In a way, her apparent pathological obsession with knives seemed to be my best chance to win—a chance to win against that madness of hers.[?]

As long as I kept my eyes on her knife, I could just barely dodge it.

After that hellish spring break, I'd forfeited that immortal vampirism that I'd possessed, but its vestiges still obstinately remained in me—in the human known as Araragi Koyomi, a demon had settled in.

Though my immortal powers were unreliable, I had confidence in my eyesight.

And my kinetic vision was no exception.

Tamamo-chan's illogical, irregular, and erratic movements gave her a form that was incredibly difficult to read, but fortunately, I was an extreme amateur when it came to martial arts, which meant that I wasn't led along by the preconceptions of those sorts of formalities.

When she was waving both knifes around, it felt like I absolutely couldn't take my eyes off for even a second, but with one knife, I had some leeway—and I could use that "leeway" in order to search for my next escape route.

"Shred shred—shred shred—shredded wheat."

However, despite none of her repeated attacks landing a single hit, it seemed Tamamo-chan didn't feel any stress at all. Since she was a soldier, so to speak, I would have preferred if she did get irritated, and perhaps even get bored with trying to kill an amateur like me... If she would just get irritated, then perhaps that could even serve as a weak point for me...

Why wouldn't she get irritated?

"Shredded wheat, put it in a bag. Take the bag and cut it up. Cut it up and the insides spill out. Spill out, like your insides—"

...It sounded like she was singing some insane cursed nursery rhyme, but she wasn't irritated at all—however, even if she wasn't irritated, it seemed Tamamo-chan actually found it surprising.

Surprising why I hadn't gotten "shredded" yet.

Well, of course, there was no way she could know that I was using my vampire sight to dodge her knife—and even if I did tell her, I doubted she'd be able to understand. In the first place, it was hard to believe that a person would so relentlessly try to cut up a regular human being as if doing papercraft, let alone a vampire...

"If your belly hurts, then I'll rub it—rub rub stab stab—wooooobble, wobblewobble."

I was the one who'd suggested we talk, but I should probably stop being led astray by Tamamo-chan's words (singing) now... In any case, I was going to just do my best to keep my eyes on the knife.

And as I thought so, I realized.

I'd assumed in the beginning that my eyes had gotten used to it, but that wasn't it at all—Tamamo-chan's movements that had been keen in all senses of the word had started to slow down in pace, little by little.

Through my eyesight, I noticed her fatigue.

Of course, a swinging motion was a great way to utilize the weight of the knife for the greatest effect, but it wasn't like she had arms the size of logs like Dramaturgy head—they were thin arms that were like withered trees.

Being eccentric, erratic, and unexpected had a nice ring to it (or did it?), but there was no way that keeping up those illogical and inefficient movements wouldn't tire her out physically. All right! By managing to hold out, I earned another opportunity—as soon as her movements got just a bit slower, I would find the right timing and dash away at full speed...

And then.

As soon as I'd spotted a faint glimmer of hope together with Tamamo-chan's fatigue, I'd lost sight of something else in turn—the knife, that I should have been following with my eyes without a single blink, suddenly disappeared from my field of fision.

"I might swish around and I might slash around—if you cut it close, then it'll be too close to call—and then, I my kill around—"

With her gaze fixed on who knows where, she thrust her now empty-right hand in a V sign into the air, twisted her torso, raised her right foot behind her, stood on her left foot on tiptoes, and, with her left hand—

Tamamo-chan's left hand was spun behind her back.

Her body's incoherent movements seemed way too erratic to just be a simple misdirection, but Tamamo-chan should have been holding her knife in that hand... Aha, so was she trying to confuse me for a moment by hiding her knife in my blind spot? But there was no use. As soon as she took the knife out of my blind spot, I'd be able to keep following it.

Or perhaps, was she switching the knife over from her tired left arm to her unused right arm behind her back—but that wasn't it. That wasn't it at all.

I should have been paying more attention to her nursery rhymes.

I my kill around—

It wasn't close to proper English grammar in the slightest, but she had done exactly as she'd said—before she could tear me to shreds, she went around and stabbed herself in the back.

And, after piercing through her flimsy torso that was barely there, the tip of the knife protruded out of Tamamo-chan's stomach—and pierced straight into my stomach.

It plunged right in. And then it tore me to shreds.

With the edge of the knife, she carved a Z into my stomach. Well, no, if the letter carved into my stomach was a Z, then she would be carving an S into her own stomach—in any case, she was cutting up her own bowels along with mine.

It seemed that for her, the saying, "Your back couldn't replace your internal organs", had no meaning.

Through her own back, she'd pierced my guts.

If my belly hurts, she'll stab it.

It wasn't that she was going to bring the knife out from the blind spot behind her, but that she was going to bring the knife out through her stomach—and not even a vampire's eyesight would be able to see that.

No. I'd seen the outcome of this battle from the beginning. I'd seen my own death, too.

The moment I chose the path on the right—

"...But, wait a minute, aren't you gonna die, too? What's going on with your spine?"

"It's fiiine. When people die, it's not because their spine breaks, it's because their heart breaks."

Feeling just the slightest bit happy that I was able to hold a proper conversation with this girl in bloomers at the very end, then with a snip, with a snap, I had no other choice but to die here.

003

Taking the path on the left as the natural decision to make, I ran down it at full force—without much room to hesitate, what was important was the courage to make a decision. After all, the right path had a girl with cropped hair, wearing bloomers, and wielding two knives tottering unsteadily in my direction. Anyone who picked such a path would have to be a complete and utter idiot. An idiot that wouldn't get better even if he died. An idiot that was better off dead, regardless.

Even so, I was reluctant to retreat behind me and face off against Shiogi-chan. After all, she was the leader of the three-man cell of rangers. To go head-to-head against someone who possessed an ingenuity that could compare to Hanekawa's was not something that appealed to me.

And so, by process of elimination, I decided to take on Hime-chan.

She was a girl with giant yellow ribbons on her head—she looked so young that it was hard to see her as the same age as Kanbaru, but of course, she was still a good enough soldier to attend Sumiyuri Academy, so I couldn't let my guard down against the cuteness of those ribbons.

Fortunately, I could see what was in her hands.

I could see what was in her gloves.

She was a user of strings.

She was stringing up a system of "invisible threads" in the surrounding area in order to get a grasp of the situation and begin searching for the enemy—as such, it would be an impossible task to dodge her and slip past her on this straight road. It would be as hard as trying to steal a jewel guarded by a security system of infrared laser beams.

Normally.

However, I was endowed with the eyesight of a vampire—while a normal human's sight might not be able to perceive those superfine strings, they were not "invisible threads" to me at all. If I was in perfect form, I would even be able to see infrared beams.

I wouldn't say that evading the strings that had been set up three-dimensionally on this straight road was like taking candy from a baby, but they weren't so hindering that I needed to run any slower than I was.

If anything, the strings were surely a hindrance to Hime-chan instead.

It was as if the zig-zagging spider's nest that she constructed had actually become a spider's thread that was coming to save me—they say that spiders only walk on the vertical threads of a web, right? Then I could simply run while hiding in the horizontal threads.

In the first place, moving while setting up a web was not something that could be performed at a fast pace—Hime-chan would have to proceed slowly. I hadn't exactly thought that far when choosing to take the left path, but it seemed now that I could move as I pleased while slipping through the gaps in the web.

However, at my incredible feat of running at full speed without touching or cutting even a single one of those "invisible threads", the girl with the yellow ribbons, Yukariki Ichihime, simply watched over me without even blinking an eye.

She simply displayed a cute smile upon her cute face.

"Huhuhu. It sure is brave of you to perform a suicide attack, Araragi-san. But from Hime-chan's point of view, that barbaric act is just like a moss to a flame," she said.

What, was her signature move to get proverbs wrong?

Sorry, but in our world, that was a fundamental skill that anybody was capable of using.

You're a hundred years too early to think you can charm me with such a traditional character trait, string master—however, her actual signature move, naturally, was not playing with words, but playing cat's cradle.

Today was a nice day in spring, but if there were any moths flying into flames, I would certainly be one of them—I'd leapt straight into the spider's nest because I'd had the confidence that I'd be able to get through, but I hadn't predicted how the nest would move.

No, of course I'd known it was possible.

This web wasn't just something that could lie in wait—it could even attack.

These threads were not threads to tie up the enemy, but threads to slice up the enemy.

So I'd more or less prepared myself to respond to however the "invisible threads" decided to come at me—but what landed outside of my expectations were the dynamic movements of those threads.

All of the threads returned, back to Hime-chan's hands. With a swoosh, swoosh, swoosh—they'd retracted and wound back up into her gloves.

Compared to walking along while stringing up the spider's nest, it seemed that she didn't need to be as high-strung about retrieving the threads—well, it was a simple matter following the reverse procedure of stringing them up, and thinking about it, it was obvious that I'd managed to get this far because the "invisible threads" were visible to me, so there was no reason to bother winding them up surreptitiously.

And, on that note.

There was no reason for Hime-chan to perform her next action surreptitiously, either.

If I was able to see them, then she may as well show them to me.

She took the threads she'd just gathered up and immediately reused them—her role was normally for logistical support, but when it was necessary, and also when it wasn't necessary to keep the strings out of sight, she was capable of reconstructing her nest in an instant.

And this time, it wasn't the nest of a spider.

Or rather, it wasn't even a nest—it was a wall.

In an instant, a "wall" appeared before my eyes.

They were no longer "threads" that had been strung up—an entire "surface" had been knit together.

Without needing to fuss over the details of where to hang it or what to hook it on, she had knit the "net" across the two telephone poles to the left and right—and it was an extremely fine net, as if a hundred million volleyball nets had been put together. This wall was something I could not dodge, even if I could see it.

Just physically, there was no gap through which a person could pass through.

"......!"

Of course if you bundled threads together, you could make a rope, and if you bundled ropes together, you could make a net—I'd hit the brakes as fast as I could, but I was too late. I collided head-on with the wall.

I'd sworn to keep moving even if my legs were cut off, but I had ended up being stopped by this.

However, threads were still threads in the end.

If this were a single piano wire, and I'd been running at a speed of 80 km/h, then I surely would have reenacted a Hollywood-like scene where my head was cleanly cut off, but if the "invisible threads" were bundled up into a clearly visible wall, then even if I collided with it at a speed that humans were capable of (about 15 km/h?), then I would only end up getting tangled up in the threads. In that sense, you could say this net was a safety net.

It was like, if you lay down on a single needle, it would pierce into you, but if you lay down on ten thousand needles and distributed your weight, then they wouldn't even be able to pierce your skin—not to mention, this wall, like the spider's nest before it, surely worked to protect me as well.

After all, if you erected a wall in the middle of a straight road, then in terms of oddities it would be the same as a "nurikabe", seeing as it stood in Hime-chan's way just as it did mine—but it wasn't the same at all.

Strictly speaking, it was less like I'd collided with the wall and more like I'd gotten stuck in the wall—after all, it wasn't a wall made of concrete or plaster, but a wall made of threads. As mentioned above, I'd gotten tangled up in those threads—and it was less like I'd stopped running and more like I was floating in the air.

One of my legs and one of my arms, as well as my head, had burst through to the other side of the wall.

I could perfectly lock eyes with Hime-chan.

She had an extremely happy grin on her face.

There wasn't even an ounce of malice in that grin—but there wasn't even an ounce of innocence, either.

"Uhuhuhu. You've fallen into my trap, Araragi-san—literally."

"......"

Ah, so that was it.

This wasn't a nest, and it wasn't a wall, either—it was a trap.

If I remembered correctly, something like a fowling net... The kind you used to catch wild thrushes and the like... With my entire body being caught in it like this, I could move neither forwards nor backwards... Yes, my weight had been distributed...

But fowling nets should have been banned as a hunting method in modern times due to their viciousness...

"...Won't you help me out?"

I gave it a shot, since I had nothing to lose.

"No way. The early Hime-chan catches the bird, you know."

It sounded like she'd gotten a proverb wrong yet again, but in this case, it was quite "literally" so—she put her hands behind her head and quickly untied her yellow ribbons.

She loosened the hair she'd tied up—seeing it like this, her hair was longer than I'd thought.

But why was she letting her hair down at this timing?

"Well, Hime-chan used up all her strings in order to make that fowling net. So I was thinking I'd prepare something in place of those strings."

"Th, then, are you going to use those ribbons? It's true that they're just cloth, which is a bundle of threads..."

"No, no, these are precious ribbons that I received from my master, so I couldn't possibly use it in such a hurtful way."

So, I'll use my hair, instead.

Saying as such, Hime-chan bounded towards me, who'd been rendered unable to move an inch—and wrapped a lock of hair around my neck.

The action was like she was wrapping a scarf around me, but if you thought it was anything like such a scene shared between fellow high schoolers, there was not one aspect of that in the current situation. In the first place, I was completely stuck in her trap.

The early Hime-chan catches the bird—or strangles it.

"Then, farewell, Araragi Koyomi-san. Your purpose will be cut off here."[?]

During spring break, I'd died in roughly a thousand different ways, but being strangled to death by hair was certainly not one of them—for a good-for-nothing like me to die like this, it was perhaps not so bad after all.

However, even in my fading consciousness, this came to mind.

If only I hadn't chosen the left path—

004

This was by no means a retreat—I was turning on my heel with a lighthearted backstep, exhibiting a foolish courage by choosing the route that would have me face off against the tactician: Hagihara Shiogi. Of course, I wasn't trying to be unexpected at all—going after the team's boss was the usual play to make in situations like these. Not to mention, if I just used my common sense, then taking the path behind me was the only choice that made sense—obviously, it would be no joke to go up against Tamamo-chan, who had large knives in both hands, and trying to evade Hime-chan and her radar of threads that perpetually probed the surroundings for enemies would surely end up being the most foolish decision made in history. If those choices were no different from me just biting my tongue off and dying right then and there, then it would surely be better for my survival if I went for the sly tactician instead.

Even if she was a high school girl that could compare to Hanekawa, she was by no means Hanekawa herself. It was true that, if she was a "Hanekawa capable of fighting", it was basically making the strong even stronger, but the moment she used violence, she would become a completely different person from Hanekawa. It was her pacifism that completely rejected acts of war that was one of Hanekawa's unique strong points—and that was why I had a chance to win.

I didn't know how many battles she'd lived through, but I'd long since passed the border of death over spring break, to the point that my entire body was obliterated—if we were to face off in just a single match, then perhaps I'd be able to outwit this tactician.

With an air of composure, Hagihara briskly walked down the center of the road and approached me—as if this simple path in this ordinary town was some royal road.

At a glance, she seemed like a standard high school girl in a uniform with the aura of a proper young lady, but she carried with her an intensity that made it hard to believe that she was my age. By this point, I'd already begun to deeply regret choosing this road... Wouldn't it actually have been better to face those two knives, or leap into the spider's nest that had been strung up...? Why did I choose something that was so much like a last resort in the very beginning?

"So you've decided to come to me on your own, Former Vampire-san. This is all going so according to plan that I'm actually a bit taken aback—it appears that there won't be any need for garlic."

With a faint smile, Hagihara reached inside her uniform—garlic?

Whoa, whoa, a lovely high school girl shouldn't carry around something like that in her bosom. Isn't that a bit too crude to use as a weapon in vampire hunting? I flinched back for a moment, but then began to run even faster, as if I'd been encouraged by the enemy.

Of course, that just meant I'd allowed her to provoke me.

Even so, at the very least, I was going to remain alert. And if she pulled out from her bosom not garlic but a knife like the ones Tamamo-chan held, then I prepared myself to react accordingly and run past her while staying safely out of range. When I said that Hagihara could even compare to Hanekawa, it wasn't just her intellect alone. Even the size of her chest could rival Hanekawa's—and within that cleavage, she could surely even store a large knife. Well, I probably didn't need to worry about her bringing out any "invisible threads", since that was the specialty of a string master that was rare in modern times. That was something that only Hime-chan and her master should be able to use. So I would probably be able to circle around her even while keeping a distance of two meters.

It wasn't easy to dodge her when she was standing right in the middle of the road, but maybe if I feinted—or if I made a feint by pretending to feint—or a feint of a feint of a feint—however, when I was only five meters away from her, what Hagihara pulled out from her bosom was not garlic.

"Very well. Stop right there. That's perfectly within range of my gun."

What she pulled out from her bosom was a pistol.

Of course I'd stop at that. Even if she didn't tell me to.

"Eh? Are pistols even allowed? In your world."

"Against professional players, a gun like this is nothing but a toy that wouldn't be effective in the slightest, but against a demon, I'm sure it'll be fine—the object itself is low quality, but the bullets are made of expensive silver."

So she'd brought silver bullets with her.

Indeed, if she was carrying those around, then there wouldn't be a need for garlic...

"Yes. In our world, 'mobile devices' would fundamentally refer to weapons, not cell phones, after all. Would you mind raising your arms above your head? Araragi-kun."

So those ostentatious knives and that fantastic thread usage, in the end, were both just misdirection, and the clincher was an extremely simple and straightforward gun... It felt like both the gun's muzzle and reality itself had just been thrust upon me.

"Okay, it's my loss. I surrender. Please have mercy."

I raised both my arms as I was told. If I'd still been a vampire, then at this point I could have used the breakthrough solution of turning my arms into vegetation, but now, it was a bit ironic—it was more or less because I'd lost almost all my vampirism then that I'd come to be defeated again at this three-way intersection.

"However, I wonder if you could answer a question of mine. Why are we even like this? Hagihara. Why are you—why are you, Hime-chan, and Tamamo-chan going after me? Why are you trying to stab me, to tie me up, and to shoot me?"

"......?"

This tactician was essentially a bundle of tactics that moved with a solid grasp of the state of the game, but at this question, she displayed a dumbfounded expression for the first time—it was as if she didn't even understand what I'd just asked.

This girl... She wasn't even playing dumb—this was actually behind her comprehension.

It was almost like she was a normal high schooler, racking her brains at the last question on her final exam—it seemed that my "wanting to know why I was being aimed at" was much too mysterious for Hagihara.

"Why am I going after you? Why am I fighting? Hm. What a leisurely perspective to take—but I've never once thought about it. I've only ever acted as I've been ordered to... Even a tactician is just a soldier in the end."

"You—you guys fight for no reason?"

"A war doesn't need a reason, correct? In the same way love needs no reason."

It sounded like a pretty smart thing to say.

I see—she wasn't someone who could compare to Hanekawa at all.

If anything, she was the exact opposite of Hanekawa.

"...You really don't know anything, don't you."

"I don't even want to know. It's because I don't know that I'm able to fight."

Every oddity has their own reason for existing—those were the words of the oddity specialist, Oshino Meme. And then, the specialist of humans, Hagihara Shiogi, would surely continue like this—humans don't have any reasons for existing at all.

Because she was ordered to, for some reason or other, because it came to mind, on the spur of the moment.

She will fight.

"...Then, why did you stop me? If you didn't plan on talking it out, you could have just shot me without wasting your breath."

Was it not to tell me the reason for this battle that had suddenly broken out? I'd held onto a sliver of hope that there would be room for negotiations, depending on what the reason was, but...

"......Aha."

Hagihara laughed. She laughed like a normal high school girl.

This wasn't her doubting me or anything—it seemed she'd just found it funny.

"Expecting to hear the reason for being shot before being shot? Araragi-kun, you've watched too many westerns."

"I haven't watched that many westerns, though. Huh? Then, what was the point of this 'Freeze!' and 'Put your hands up!' thing? Weren't you giving me a chance to beg for my life?"

"The reason I stopped you was that, it's hard to aim at a moving target with this low-quality gun. The reason I had you put your arms up was so that you wouldn't be able to protect your heart."

"...I'm glad you at least told me that much."

"Well then, BANG. My name is Hagihara Shiogi. By any means, fair or foul, I'll 'shoot' you from head-on."

Hagihara pulled the trigger of that low-quality gun.

A silver bullet would have an immediate effect even on a human, not to mention a vampire, but even as that bullet pierced through my heart, I still felt like I wanted to know.

Not the reason for being shot, and not the reason for fighting.

If I hadn't doubled back, and instead gone straight ahead into one of the left or right paths, then how would it have turned out? That was all I wanted to know—

005

The epilogue; or rather, the punchline.

In the end, no matter what route I chose, no matter what parallel world I went down, the ends of every branch seemed to probabilistically converge towards much the same conclusion. It may seem like a very mathematical moral to this story, but this wasn't actually the case.

Even if all roads were blocked on this three-way intersection, there was still a route in which I could survive.

My first mistake was assuming that I was only limited to three options.

Even if cowering where I stood was out of the question—despite being at a three-way intersection, available paths spread out in all directions. I wasn't a shogi piece, so it wasn't like I was restricted to the spaces on the board. In that case, I'd be better off choosing a route that involved confronting neither Saijou Tamamo, nor Yukariki Ichihime, nor Hagihara Shiogi—and it wasn't that hard to do.

The steps were what I could call, "back-and-forth".

Well, to be exact, it would be the footsteps I would take... I'd only analyzed the three combatants based on how threatening they were, but that was an extremely grave error on my part. Well, of course, I'd needed to take into consideration their respective threat levels, but "only" doing so didn't expand the range of decisions I could make—if anything, it reduced it. In the first place, the threat levels for all three of them had far surpassed the threshold, so it was all the same to me whether their combat prowess was 100 points, 1,000 points, or even 10,000 points—since my own combat prowess was less than 1 point.

In that case, I needed to focus on something else. Something that I could compete in.

For example... Yes, what if I "only" looked at their movement speed?

Now matter how they were trained, a human body could only reach a human's running ability in the end—they wouldn't be able to run faster than a car, and when compared to a train, we humans would all be more or less on the same level.

Furthermore, even if we were all on the same level, we weren't exactly the same.

Each person had their own individual speed.

A-kun went out to go shopping at a rate of 5 km/h. In order to give him more tasks to do, B-kun chased after him 30 minutes later at a rate of 6 km/h—and to deliver the wallet he'd forgotten, C-kun went out 30 minutes after that at a rate of 8 km/h. How long would it take for B-kun to catch up to A-kun, who departed 30 minutes earlier? How long would it take for C-kun to catch up to the other two?

Of course, as people like to say, applying a problem like this to reality brought about various logistical inconsistencies. Like, "How far do they even plan to walk?", or "Aren't there any traffic lights?", and so on—and the most extreme of those would be, "There's someone chasing after you, so turn around and go back!"

And I would utilize that inconsistency.

Among the three high school girls, the one with the fastest pace was, to my surprise, the one walking briskly down the middle of the royal road, taking elegant and composed steps, Hagihara Shiogi. As it were, she was just walking normally, but if we were to assign her pace a score of 100 points, then relatively, then the one with the slowest pace, once again to my surprise, was Yukariki Ichihime. Because she was walking while stringing up her spider's nest in all directions, her pace had slowed down considerably—so compared to Hagihara's 100 points, Hime-chan's pace would get a score of around 80 points. And, as for Saijou Tamamo, who proceeded forward while swaying and shaking with a lightning-bolt-like trajectory, I'd say she was somewhere in the middle with 90 points.

Of course, this was just their basic speeds, and I could only gaze in wonder at Tamamo-chan's keen and eccentric movements when reacting to "moving targets". And even Hime-chan could move at an above-average speed if she abandoned all pretense of secrecy. As for the speed of Hagihara's silver bullets, they were difficult to track even with a vampire's eyesight. However, I could still use it as a basis—a basis for choosing my path.

First off, I'd take Route Left. In other words, I would head for the spider's nest.

However, I wouldn't run at full speed. I'd run at a speed of about 100 points, fast enough so that I wouldn't be chased from behind, and proceed straight down the left path—at least, only partially. Before running into Hime-chan, before getting caught in her radar, I would turn around.

I would turn around and return the way I came—using that inconsistency of my choices in a consistent manner. Of course, it would be ideal if I could return backwards without being seen by Hime-chan, but it didn't matter if she did see me. In the end, her role was just to "stand in my way", and that spider's nest was made just for that, so she wouldn't abandon it to chase me too far—since the other routes were blocked by the berserker and the tactician, after all.

Or they "should have been" blocked.

However, before I could "return to the start", the tactician that walked at a 100-point rate would arrive at the center of the three-way intersection. There, she would have to make a decision.

She'd be confronted with the same choice as I had—should she go down the left path, or the right? As long as her objective was a pincer attack, she absolutely needed to choose one of them, but which path should she take to continue the pincer attack?

In other words, I was transferring my options to the other party—however, if she thought about it for just a little bit, she'd realize that she had no other option but to take the right path. After all, if I'd gone down the path where that radar lay in wait, then she wouldn't be worried about letting me escape... But if I'd gone down the path with the out-of-control berserker in charge, then there was a million-to-one chance of an unexpected defeat. That's why she would have to proceed down the path on the right.

And so, the tactician would take the right path, and the unguarded back path would then be open for me to escape at a 120-point pace—an unguarded escape route would be created.

Well then, let's go with that plan in 006.

Having my stomach be turned into a Z sign while listening to nursery rhymes, being caught in a forbidden fowling net and getting strangled by a girl's hair, or getting shot by a silver bullet even after I'd become a human... If I was going to meet such wretched fates, then I would rather just die sooner—was not what I thought in the slightest. Even this route may fail against the tactician's iron fence, but if so, then I just needed to look for another route.

It didn't sound too bad to be stuck in an endless loop where I got to play with high school girls from another world forever, but I would much rather prefer to enjoy myself with everyone I was going to meet from now on—so until I find the route I could use to escape, I'll revive myself over and over again. If there's no route, then I'll just make one. And, someday, I'll turn into that boring, 23-year-old adult.

Even if I'm torn to shreds, my heart won't break.

My purpose won't be cut off here.

My name is Araragi Koyomi.

After just barely escaping from that spring break of hell with my life, unlike when I'd been a vampire, my life was something I wanted to cherish.

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lost-gokiburi · 7 years ago

Text

Day of Night (WIP)

001.M42

“Those who walk the path of the revenant are souls damned and stripped of everything that made them once whole. Recast much like we were when we all took the oath.”

A mighty vessel drifts through a sea of void-born wreckage of a battle hard fought and won. Above the burning hive world Ancaeus, the voidship turned Fortress Monastery makes high anchor as it casts an image not seen since the days of heresy. A mighty vessel of a different age now recast as a mighty bastion of hope much like those who stood within. Its name was the Ghosts of Saris, a world where this mighty vessel had made landfall and only the subsequent destruction of the dead world had freed this great behemoth of human hands. It was... imposing and powerful and yet it mirrored the great death spires of a mortuary world.

Here was were great heroes of the Imperium swept into obscurity stood, children born of terrible circumstance which were then offered to the chapter and taken. Within its empty halls strides one of the few Imperial commanders that had been invited into the inner sanctum of the Chapter that occupied this great vessel. A woman of highborn nature whose own wary expression was all too familiar to the Librarian that escorted one of many. Her mind was aggrieved by the presence of the Epistolary that had been ordained to meet with her as spoken of by the Chapter Master, a Transhuman wreathed in mystery.

He had only spoken once and such was a greeting that was made upon her coming. From the corners of her eyes, she could see the shadows of this ship as they followed her. With every step, her vision became more and more obscured until she could hear voices of others who held a position of power. One, she recognized and soon the shades that stalked receded and the Librarian stepped no further.

He speaks to her, his voice cast through his grill that spilled out a gentle cloud in the cold atmosphere. “I can go no further lest I cause issue with command. Your place is within the Strategium where the War-Captains now gather. Step lightly, Commander Khayle, they are not well versed in the methods of your kind. Look to the Chaplain, but do not speak to the Master of Sanctity.”

She paused the duration of his words as fear had already seized her heart whilst the great Librarian spoke. His Mark X tacticus armor was all too apparent and his allegiance towards the Imperium had been assured, but her fear still remained. She could feel his presence all around him like a cloud of blackness that whispered to her thoughts. There was a daring moment of wonder of what his name was and then a question dawned. When had she mentioned her name? For such was not something she could even recall.

“Y-Yes Librarian.” Her voice echoes through the empty halls as the towering Astartes had already turned on his heel. She could see him pause for the moment as he peered over his shoulder towards her. It was there again, whispering to the back of her mind.

He spoke once more, his voice lacking both kindness and hostility. There was nothing save for the mere tone that sapped at her own brevity and already the bluster she had once displayed on the field was now gone. Robbed of her completely. “Take not this moment for pause, your fate rests elsewhere and questions unwanted are not why you have been invited here. Take only the knowledge you have gained and use it, they will heed your words.”

As she turned around, she could already see several other Astartes in the hall, they stood as statues at the entrance into what was called the Stategium. She could only guess them to be honor guard, but they were as the Librarian. Adorned in void black armor that lacked all sign of color save for the deep red ceramite of their right arm. At their hips, she could see aged weapons of ornate design. Swallowing her fear, she approaches as her mind is released from the presence of the Epistolary and approaches the opened doorway.

“... they are on the run Chapter Master, we of the Imperial Navy believe the threat has been dealt with.” A voice familiar. Admiral Aijen Tyblos of the Kren sector fleet, the same man who denied her the air support she sorely needed before the arrival of these Astartes.

“Yet the Chief Librarian speaks of a threat yet unseen.” Another spoke, this time it was through the grill of a helm just as the Librarian had sounded. Yet this voice was harsh and soon another would interject.

This one was of dead calm, restrained emotion lingered but little else could be gleaned. “While you spit your bluster, Brother War-Captain, the Chapter Master has already suggested our course of action.”

“To which I have already said is fool hardy.” Added the Naval Admiral again, his own voice seemed to waver before such great warriors of the Imperium. He held no pause. “Though victorious, the Imperial Navy is spread thin here, I cannot simply dedicate vessels mindlessly for a supposedly or even a maybe. Perhaps if we had more concrete informati-”

“If you have not realized, Admiral, but the entire sector has been under siege.” Chimed in the War-Captain that had spoken before, taking no pause as Commander Khayle made entrance into the room causing her to flinch at the sudden impact of his fist into the adamantium dias. “Do you take us for mere fools?!”

As Khayle had entered the room, she could see eight adorned in black battle-plate befitting of a Captain. Most of them wore the newly acquired tacticus armor while several others still adorned the previous marks. Even in this poor light, she could see the black armor adorned with countless bounties born of horrible battle scars. She could even see the honors that each of them held and the weapons at their side. Yet what had drawn her eye away from the War-Captains was the familiar form of the man who had saved her and her men. She averts her eyes as if not wishing to look upon the honored dead, recalling the words shared to her in his confidence.

“Commander Khayle.” She introduces herself and offers her best salute and remained at attention for brief moment before one of the Captains beckoned for her entrance. As she makes her way in further, she casts a side long glance at the fattened face of the admiral. “I apologize for my tardiness, I was waylaid with remnant forces.”

“To which you are forgiven.” Came the immediate response as the black armored giant she had looked at before. His great form had been undeniable before and now as he rose to his feet, his presence held an even more imposing stature. He steps from the upper level of this auditorium and makes his way past everyone. “Your efforts on world are to be commended, though it gladdens us that not all were lost in the final hours of the defense.”

“I hardly warrant cause for concern, mi'lord.” She responds almost immediately as she bent the knee before this mighty Transhuman. Even though they had fought beside one another, she felt as though political protocol was undeniable. “But you give me great honor all the same.”

“Rise, commander.” Came the heavy baritone from the Master of the Chapter. It was an undeniable command and one she obeyed. Even if it was a request, there was little to deny this great figure before her. “We have need of you once more, though it will not be I who stands beside you in the heat of battle but rather another Hero of the Chapter.”

Even during the hectic moments of battle, she had clearly seen this behemoth's battle-plate and its resplendent ornamentation. He had acted as an anchor for both her own soldiers as well as his warriors. Together, the violence that had been wrought broke chaos and through that victory was won though at great cost. Never had she thought to fight alongside of an Astartes and to see them in person? It was a fearsome thing indeed. Her eyes could not decide where to look until she could see the cold steel eyes of a face touched by war. No bionics, but it was a face most scarred. Weathered, tired and yet strangely hopeful. Though esoteric, she found it distracting and through some subtlety she felt her heart harden with an iron will.

“You bring me honor once more.” Was all she could manage.

The bloated Naval officer stammered for a moment before clicking his cane on the deck, earning a look from one of the few Chaplains that stood watch on the upper levels of the auditorium. Their skull faced glares seemed to depress the man into the ground as he shrunk back. The disrespect had been offered and they would not have been remiss in their duties to beat sense into this mortal.

The Chapter Master shifted his attention towards the Admiral. “We understand that your forces are indeed stretched thin and we are indeed at war War-Captain Belern. So what are we to do in a time such as this?”

Another spoke, his voice was as a whisper and it had come from none who any of the mortals present could see. “We must deploy the chapter accordingly.”

“Yes, Khalyx Balus.” Replied the Chapter Master.

Khayle's head turned towards where the Chapter Master had cast his gaze and found herself looking at the form of yet another behemoth. He was adorned in the thick gravis armor plate and yet he moved without making so much as a sound. It was almost impossible to imagine such a giant figure remaining hidden and so close. Were the tales of this chapter true? Were some of these Astartes actually dead warriors that could simply walk unheard regardless of their size? As unbelievable as it was, she could not help but recall the form of one such as he. A wraith in the distance that butchered and slaughtered a great many. She had heard the reports of giant men slaughtering chaos cultists, daemons and champions over the vox. Originally she had dismissed such as mere rumors and yet as the Chapter had made itself known, these rumors soon became secured in truth rather than mere supposition. She looked upon him and from the great armored form, she could smell a thick wave of incense from him. There was a thimble that hung from his waist and next to it a string of skulls that hung off of a chain. She knew not their purpose but assured it was some form of grim symbolism.

His armor was horrendously damaged and yet also well maintained. Around his neck was a bronze chain that ended with the skeleton of an aquila. There were no Chapter markings and from his gorget a cloud of smoke billowed from an enclosed helm spilled out. It was almost like a fog and smelled of incense. He was not armed, but she knew that this one was a warrior of fearsome capabilities. She had not yet noticed the loin cloth that hung from his armored waist, how tattered and worn this black cloth had been or the cape that hung from his shoulders. If there was anything that this silent giant had reminded her of, it was that she had felt fear since entering this great vessel and that of a dragon.

“We mean to deploy the chapter and further, I intend to dispatch Astartes to every combat zone.” The Chapter Master stepped away from the Commander, making his way to the center table and pulled up a system map. “The marked zones will be meant for Companies One through Seven.”

“What of the Eighth, Ninth and Tenth?” Asked one of the War-Captains, posing the questions as readily before his own compatriots.

The Chapter Master did not answer, but rather the Captain of the Ninth. “... Quick reaction forces.” “You are correct to assume that, War-Captain Ghael.” The Chapter master answered with a firm voice and soon the strategy meeting had finally come full circle. A discussion was to be mounted with the Imperial Navy about troop deployments.

Khalyx Balus had other intentions however as he turned his attention from the strategy meeting towards the doorway and took to relieving himself from the presence of these mortals. While the Chapter Master had his duties, he too had his own to attend to. Too much time had been spent here and awaiting for the Commander's arrival and her coming was not something he had wished to see. His focus was that of the coming battles rather than to ensure victory on the greater front.

There was a darker enemy to face here. One of their past and the Council of Revenant was summoned in its entirety to ensure its destruction. Soon, the shadow war was to begin and the ghosts of a chapter would take to the field once more.

#wip #Space Marines #Warhammer 40k

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