A Journey Unwanted

[Realm: Álfheimr]

[Location: Outskirts]

Dante stood beneath the sparse shade of the plainside trees, the wind tugging at his fur-lined coat hanging from his shoulders. Tamamo-no-Mae—nine golden tails swaying lazily—perched atop him, her chin propped on one tiny paw as she mused aloud.

"Echidna, hm?" she said, ears twitching with a flicker of genuine interest. "I didn't expect to hear that name here of all places."

They had regrouped only minutes earlier. Dante and Gretchen had returned from the 'hunt', explained what happened, and now the party stood scattered around a small ring of trees: Ivan rubbing his hands together for warmth, Alexander leaning against a trunk with crossed arms, and Gretchen folded neatly into the shadows of another tree.

"You've been in Álfheimr longer than I have," Dante started. "I thought you might know more."

Tamamo tilted her head. "Please, Dante. I only descended recently. My job is just to fix the leyline disturbances. Prior to this, I certainly didn't spend my time studying the local monster gossip." She shrugged. "Beyond the Retorta Guild, I've hardly kept track of much at all."

Ivan cut in. "Okay but—who even is Echidna?"

"A Deseruit Beast Progenitor," Gretchen answered, tone informative. She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

"So… like one of the first?" Alexander asked.

Gretchen gave him a dry stare. "Yes, Alexander. That is what progenitor means." She gestured vaguely as if this should have been obvious.

"Okay, okay, just making sure…" he muttered.

Tamamo hummed, tapping one paw on Dante's shoulder. "It fits. She birthed all manner of powerful monsters." Her tails flicked behind her as she continued. "Entire lines of them, truth be told. If the Deseruit Beast population has increased unnaturally, her influence—or her descendants—might be a factor."

Gretchen studied her, eyes narrowing. "From the way you talk, it sounds like you know more about Echidna than just the basics."

The fox's smile widened, slyly. "Well… yes. We came from the same realm."

That earned immediate confused expressions from Ivan and Alexander. Gretchen's frown deepened.

Tamamo sighed dramatically, as if exhausted by them. "Very well, the short version. There are nine realms—nine universes—interconnected and governed by various Gods like Iofiel. But beyond those nine, there exists a single realm under the jurisdiction of God."

Ivan blinked. "Which… God? There's a lot of them."

"The Advocate. The Almighty One." Tamamo swirled a tail lazily. "But most simply call him God."

Alexander whistled under his breath. "So he's the strongest deity?"

Tamamo thought for a moment. "He has equals—other deities in his realm. But to give perspective on God specifically—your Primordial Gods? In God's realm, their equivalents would be Seraphim, Angels of overwhelming power. And they fall beneath God. Imagine the scale." She flicked an ear. "Make of that what you will."

"Seriously…" Ivan whispered. "Didn't know things reached that scale."

Even Gretchen looked unsettled, though she masked it well. Alexander looked like he wanted to ask a dozen more questions but restrained himself.

Tamamo stretched, rolling her shoulders. "But let's not stray too far. Echidna. The Mother of Monsters. Her mate was… formidable to say the least. The fact she could handle him says enough." Her expression turned contemplative. "His sealed state should still be in one of the nine realms, though where specifically… who knows." She brushed that aside with a flick of a tail. "Her mythology in the Greek realm is messy and contradictory. I didn't bother keeping up with it. I'd prefer not to draw the attention of that lecherous God of theirs." Her nose wrinkled in visible disgust.

Dante finally stepped forward, cloak swaying. "If Echidna truly exists in this realm, it will be troublesome. In terms of power, she could match an Old God. Possibly approach Primordial levels."

That landed heavily. Ivan's face tightened; Alexander shifted uneasily.

"But," Dante continued, "it is equally possible these cultists found fragments of scripture and worship merely the idea of Echidna. We can't rule out either possibility."

Ivan rubbed his arm. "She sounds… unbelievably dangerous. And that's putting it lightly." His voice thinned. "What are we even supposed to do if she's really here?"

"For now," Dante answered, "we follow our path. Brooding over her accomplishes nothing."

Alexander grumbled. "Still doesn't answer why these cultists are hounding us."

Tamamo flicked her tails upward, drawing attention. "That's simple. They're after Dante, Gretchen, and myself."

"What?" Ivan asked.

"Dante has far above average mana. Gretchen has a substantial reservoir herself. And I—" she gestured grandly with a paw "—have near-limitless Spiritual Energy." She tapped Dante's helmet. "Perfect fuel for whatever revolting ritual they're attempting."

Gretchen folded her arms. "Then they could be trying to trigger a large-scale spell. Similar in principle to basic sorcery, except they're ripping mana from unwilling targets rather than using their own."

"Indeed," Tamamo agreed. "But I wouldn't worry too much." She grinned mischievously. "We have our very own knight to protect us." One of her tails brushed across Dante's helmet with playful affection. "Prioritize the delicate maidens first, of course. Ivan and Alexander will be fine."

"Hey!" Alexander sputtered. "Are we really that unimportant?"

Tamamo smirked. "Oh? Do you wish to be treated like a maiden as well? Maybe you're secretly smitten with Dante?"

"Absolutely not!" Alexander barked, face reddening.

Ivan snickered behind his hand.

Before Alexander could retaliate, Dante spoke. "Enough. We still have a long journey ahead."

Tamamo sighed dramatically. "This trip would be so much faster without all you slowpokes weighing us down."

Alexander raised a brow. "There's no way you could reach the fortress that fast."

"Oh, me and Dante could." Her smile was pure smugness. "A single second, if we wished."

Ivan blinked. "Then why aren't you?"

Tamamo shrugged. "Because it would be rude to leave you to die on the roadside. And because some of you—" her eyes flicked to Dante, then Gretchen "—are more interesting when kept close."

Dante exhaled. "Then let us begin. Complaining changes nothing."

Tamamo hummed lightly from his shoulder, tails lifting. "Very well then. Let the painfully slow mortal-paced journey resume." She grinned wickedly. "Try not to age too quickly."

-------------------

[Realm: Álfheimr]

[Location: ???]

The chamber swallowed sound as much as it swallowed light.

A cavernous room stretched out—vast, airless, and heavy in a way that made the lungs protest. Shadows clung to the stone and stepping further inside felt like wading into the mouth of a beast.

Yet the unsettling atmosphere clashed strangely with the mundane: the entire right wall was crowded with old shelves bowing under the weight of tomes whose spines had long since faded. Dust coated them like a layer of skin. At the center of the chamber, a jury-rigged collection of tables was cluttered with glassware—vials, long-necked tubes, flasks, and bubbling concoctions of questionable hues.

The left side, by contrast, carried no pretense of normalcy. A rough, blood-drawn glyph sprawled across the gray stone floor—an uneven depiction of what appeared to be a serpentine form, though the crude artistry made the anatomy difficult to decipher.

Two figures occupied the space.

The first: the old man.

A towering figure wrapped in a black robe embroidered with golden threads. His long white hair pooled almost to the floor, and his beard matched it in length and severity. His body—despite his apparent age—held a wiry strength. But it was his eyes that broke the illusion of humanity: pitch black sclera and violet pupils glowing faintly.

The other figure exhaled sharply in irritation.

"Jesus, geezer—clean this fucking place once in a while. This smell is disgusting."

The vulgar tone was almost jarringly unfitting for her appearance.

She was petite, her beauty otherworldly. Porcelain skin. Long raven-black hair parted by immaculate bangs. She wore a black dress layered with a puffed-sleeve blouse, high collar, buttons down the torso, and a high-waisted skirt tied with a bow. Matching ribbons adorned her sleeves and hem. Black stockings and soft ballerina slippers completed the silhouette. Her crimson eyes burned with a brilliance too vivid to be anything but supernatural.

She brushed a hand lightly through her bangs—her nails lacquered the same black shade as her attire.

That such vulgarity came from such an immaculate façade made the contrast even sharper.

The old man laughed—a rough, sandpaper scrape of a sound. "Haha. I'd prefer you call me Master Koschei. You've been my apprentice long enough to show a sliver of respect."

She snorted—even that was a graceful sound. "Yeah, I'm not calling you that. You'll die of old age long before I ever bow that low." She waved him off and continued, "Anyway, I gave those cultist idiots some mana so they can keep feeding their precious Echidna. So are you gonna release the curse on that prisoner or what? Or should I expect you to stall like always?"

Koschei stepped toward her, smile twisting in a way that carried far too much hunger for a man of his age—or any age. He stepped forward once more, lecherous grin growing, reaching a skeletal hand toward her cheek.

"Not yet. I still have uses for you. Perhaps… you could warm my bed first. Then I could cleanse that pretty little mouth of yours with my—"

SPLAT!

His upper body disappeared in an instant—reduced to red mist that splattered the floor, the tables, even some of the bookshelves farther behind him. The force left only his lower half standing for half a second before it, too, toppled onto its side.

The girl didn't even blink.

"Please," she muttered, flicking nonexistent dust from her skirt. "If you think you could handle all this, you're more senile than I thought." She gave a smug little gesture to herself, as though presenting a priceless work of art.

She sighed, waiting.

Koschei's corpse twitched.

Then writhed.

Then rose—or rather, rebuilt itself. Bone sprouted upward with an audible wet crack. Vertebrae stacked. Ribs curled outward like a blooming flower. Tendons lashed into place. Muscle wrapped around the structure in thick cords. Organs pulsed into existence. Skin smoothed over raw tissue like a liquified substance cooling into shape. Hair spilled downward in a cascade.

Within moments, he stood restored—smiling broadly, eyes gleaming with a sick joy.

"Hahaha! You killing me only makes me want you more!"

She looked at him with a drained, hollow boredom as she wrinkled her nose. "You're like a cursed cockroach, but worse. And I hate cockroaches."

"One day," he growled with twisted affection, "I'll violate that delicate body of yours. You won't even have the strength to resist."

She blinked once. Twice. "You know, the only reason you still exist is because killing you permanently would take more effort than I care to expend."

Koschei's grin widened. "Your indifference only excites me."

"Yeah, well your existence only irritates me," she shot back. "Anyway, we're getting off-track. That disgusting little resurrection performance was gross so let's move on." She huffed lightly. "So tell me—why are you suddenly so interested in rejuvenating Echidna? Don't tell me you've developed a soft spot for cult monsters."

Koschei waved a dismissive hand. "Soft spot? Hardly. I care nothing for those lunatics. But the Retorta Guild…" His eyes narrowed, violet pupils contracting. "They seem quite invested in restoring that Deseruit Beast Progenitor."

She lifted a brow. "Oh great. Them. Because nothing says 'peaceful afternoon' like a guild of deranged morons poking ancient horrors."

"They're escalating," Koschei said. "Something is brewing."

"I mean… that's cute and all, but I guess I don't care that much." She turned, her steps graceful before walking away, she shot him a warning look over her shoulder. "Just keep your damn promise, old man. I don't care about that prisoner, but someone else does. If he dies, you'll be begging for Death. And we both know you're not lucky enough to get it."

She walked forward, her movements quiet.

Koschei chuckled, soft and delighted—disturbingly so.

"What a terrifying little girl…" He sighed, a strange fondness in his tone. "But so very, very beautiful."