Nexus Awakened (An Isekai LitRPG Gender Bender Story)-1100. A Smoke Break
Hours earlier.
A puff of smoke rose to the ceiling. The ceiling was excessively high, and adorned with a manner of banners carrying the insignia of Act X. It was a monotonous sight, and no matter where one found themselves in Act X’s inner territory, they would find themselves in an identical-looking room.
This was intentional. Acolytes, Heralds and Missionaries followed the Scripts accordingly. Murmurs of Acolytes who were still getting accustomed to following the Scripts carefully counted their steps as they passed by a certain orange-eyed woman.
“Take seventy-one breaths and hop twice… A door should be in front of you?”
“Wave at the second person you meet and follow the seventh.”
“Hold your breath for five minutes and run exactly eighty-nine meters.”
“Close your eyes and hold a knife pointed at an eye. Walk fifty-nine steps forward.”
The Scripts were ridiculous. Yet, they would find where they needed to be precisely on time no matter how absurd the Commandments were.
Heralds possessed far more complicated Scripts. Unlike the Acolytes, they memorized it by heart and recited it like holy scripture.
“Walk north for six hundred and seventy-three steps. Spin at the nineteenth corridor between the eight and ninth banner, take three steps forward immediately where you face, and then walk and count to two-hundred and thirty-five thousand.”
They passed by Horus as though she did not exist. She expected a glance of acknowledgement at the minimum. The inner misheif in her yearned to blow smoke in one of their faces. However, even as a Color, she did not wish to incur the wrath of a Herald within the heart of Act X’s territory.
Thus, like a potted plant, she stood idly with her back against the wall. Puffs of smoke continued to leave her mouth as she wore a look of satisfaction. She preferred a slower life. Were it not for her contract with Oboros Infinitas then she would be spending the rest of her life in the wealthy districts of the City of Diamonds or living lavishly in a manor in H9.
It was much too troublesome to deal with the Amalgam’s problems.
Moreover, she had problems of her own that would rather ignore.
Meters away from her was a massive steel cylinder. It had crashed through the wall, and it laid in the middle of the hallway. Like her, Act X personnel avoided it. Nor did they seem very concerned about the missing wall.
“Think you can get it fixed without asking a Herald for help?”
“No, dammit! Burst pipes everywhere! I barely sucked up enough Reconstituting Fluids to resurrect several Repenters! Nevermind fuel this damned Leviathan!”
Alcina, the Blood Angel known for her expertise in Golemancy, struck a humanoid machine out of spite. Since Golems and Constructs were not considered living beings, she was not suppressed by her Healer’s instinct.
One particular Construct was indistinguishable from a living person. If their mouth and joints were covered with cloth, then one would believe they were human. She struck this one particularly hard with kick.
This was how Blood Angels vented. There was no shortage of stories from Blood Angels who created Constructs in the image of enemies, or even ex-partners. Particularly spiteful Blood Angels would trap a person’s soul in a Construct, and it would not trigger their Healing instinct.
“My babies! Pocket some steel. Keep the components. Oboros Infinitas ain’t gonna miss it. What are they gonna do, fine a Healer? They can syphon the funds from Act X. They’re the ones who messed it up in the first place.”
Five machines barely larger than the ordinary man, whose heads were embedded inside of their torso, pulled twisted debris from the Leviathan’s carcass. One of its engines had spilled out from a crack in the side. Its crimson coloration and the slick membrane surroundings it metal parts resembled a hernia.
Horus puffed a plume of smoke, amused by this.
“Take it up to Justica Arms. They can get Act X to settle. But knowing Justica Arms, we’re in the wrong on the clause of ‘invading another Atelier’s territory’ and ‘inciting an Atelier conflict’. I know a few who let it slide. Turncoats are everywhere.”
“That’s not the problem. Your damned mechanic (Icara) is dead, and I don’t wanna waste it on her.”
“You like the taste of the Amalgam’s blood? Can’t blame you. What I’d give for a taste of the real thing.”
“It’s for my brother-in-law. Icara can wait. The Leviathan ain’t even my problem to begin with. But hey, you scratch my back, I scratch yours. We vouch for each other. Say a couple good things in front of the Amalgam. I wanna keep appearances up.”
“Now you’re speaking my language~ Must be nice to be the Fang of the Head, having so many babes to choose from. You have competition. Do Healers have urges? I’ve yet to see a promiscuous Dove. If I were a Healer… Mmmn. Nope. That’s why I’m not a Healer at all.”
There was a third figure that overheard their conversation.
Abigail.
Ever since the crash, she has been stuck with these two. At first, she thought she was in good hands, since Alcina was also a Healer.
However, after spending hours listening to their drabble, she did not know whether she was worse than Horus. A Healer that skirts on technicalities, or a lust-driven woman who preys on other women. Even now, Horus couldn’t keep her eyes off the human Acolytes.
She strode to the nearest Herald, weapon cradled, and her finger cleared from the trigger. It was a protocol drilled into her during her training as a Black Wing at the Ascelpien. Once in front of the Herald, she slammed the rifle down.
“Excuse me. Herald. Halt. This is an order from a Black Wing.”
“A distinguished five-feathered Black Dove. The hair matches. Pay the damages no heed. They shall be amended as per the Script.”
A Black Wing’s decree was law. But a Black Wing with five golden feathers was absolute.
“I have a different inquiry. I seek the path towards the Grand Stage. We’re due for a visit. Earlier, we had lost our way with the Amalgam and the rest of our party.”
Her last memory before waking up was plunging into the sea. After that, they found themselves crashed into the walls of an Act X structure. The other end of the Leviathan was in a neighboring room, rather than the outside.
This meant they had likely been teleported here.
“A Black Wing cannot set foot onto the Grand Stage without a personal invitation. Act X will never permit it.” The Herald gave a standard response. “A six, nay, a seven feathered Black Dove may suffice for an uninvited visit. But a five feathered Black Dove is still a hatchling finding its legs.”
“I’ll have you know that this hatchling can scramble both those legs of yours.”
Abigail’s tongue suddenly sharpened. A Black Wing’s inner emotions were difficult to control, though it was their signature trait aside from their discolored hair.
Black Wings had seven ranks. One at the lowest, and seven being the Ravens who commanded the entirety of the Black Wings. A fifth-feathered Black Wing denoted a Healer who could work independently, whether as part of their Flock, or to branch out.
Abigail was the latter. These Black Wings were typically well versed with the world, but Abigail had never left the Nex Megalopolis. Hence, why Abigail was no more than a hatchling in the Herald’s eyes.
And why it had caused the air around her to freeze.
The Herald’s face hardened. He sensed her murderous intent. Acolytes turned their heads in their direction. The pressure Abigail imposed was the same kind one felt when they had a sword looming over their head.
“Kneecaps. Gone. Abdomen. Ruptured. Head. Shall we test it?”
“… A Black Wing… how unsightly for a Healer to threaten an Atelier personnel merely carrying out their duties. I don’t know. Does that suffice?”
“Keh. Get someone who does.
* * *
Abigail was naturally a timid person.
But like many Black Wings, her emotions could take hold of her at any moment. Thus, they were susceptible to major mood swings, though it was rarely seen when they were nurtured in a stable environment.
It was a side effect of having been emotionally suppressed for so long.
The Acolytes passed through with urgency. They were terrified. Where a Black Wing appeared, death would soon follow. Even one was enough to instill fear into the hearts of seasoned Atelier personnel.
Because no matter the situation, no matter the circumstances, a Black Wing was not an entity bound by the same laws as them. Indeed, while every being working under the banner of the Nexus was bound by the Code of Conduct, it was no secret that the Black Wings were prone to being pardoned.
This was in part because they were Healers, and because they could simply reverse any damage they inflicted. In a sense, they had the potential to afflict suffering beyond what the Ateliers were capable of.
The amendments of the Code of Conduct, however, were for another time.
* * *
The Herald’s mouth moved, but no words formed. He nodded and swiftly turned on his heels to fetch for a Missionary.
“Finally found a useful Herald. Could you two be any more useless? You’re barely fulfilling your contract.”
“Sorry hun, but not sticking my nose in other people’s business is
part
of my contract with Oboros Infinitas.” Horus shrugged.
Alcina clicked her tongue.
“Ain’t that rich. A Black Wing talking about barely skirting the lines. Heh. You girls ain’t White Doves either. Hey! No judging! I like the way girls do business. That got me thinking. Is it a Healer’s fault if she pulls a trigger and shoots someone?”
“… Is this the time?” Abigail groaned.
This, for whatever reason, only egged Alcina on.
“Think about it! How many degrees of separation is there between a Healer and a bullet? Gotta be enough where you can equip a White Dove with a Standard Talon.”
“The issue is whether they can consciously make that choice.”
“Oh. Forgot about that. Guess that’s why Healers have living backpacks to fight for them. Doesn’t make them too far off a Blood Angel. Gotta tell babe about this. She likes runaway conversations. Did I tell you girls about that time babe and I found a–”
Abigail filtered her entirely. Horus, for some reason, was suddenly intrigued as Alcina’s hands made questionable gestures.
.
!
1100. A Smoke Break
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