Chapter Text
Dante and the Sinners trod through the newly opened door to the Ring Nursefather's corridor, Ishmael stretches her arms as she welcomes back the familiar sight of Callisto's macabre art of twisting metameric spines and tangled flesh.
However, all sense of debatable comfort and ease turned to evaporate when Outis caught the sight of Alan's recognizable blue suit covered in inky blood and scratches.
"H-Hey! What happened!? Are you okay?" Gregor rushed to the old man's side and helped him up to his feet.
"Yes, I am in good condition to keep operating. You're all just a little too late to the situation at hand." Alan dusted his gloves free of the black-film which was in the process of drying out.
"Some Abnormality flew under our radar when we cleaned up the headquarters" A recognizable calloused voice rang into their ears as hurried footsteps revealed the urgency. Quick crackling sparks and droning filled the air as Hohenheim approached the Sinners.
"Oi mate, thought all of 'em were checked when we wrangled their eggs?" Heathcliff approached the spindly man with a worry in his eyes as he scratched the back of his head, "Look, the lass just used her relic again just to let us out of a another corridor. I don't think its a good idea to go fight another thing after that."
Hohenheim grimaced, "Well then, that's quite a predicament…" Hohenheim brought his finger to his stubble and sighed, "Why don't we make this quick. The initial report when this abnormality was captured had attributed it as a fragile—timid creature, even for a WAW. I don't believe a fight with this thing would take more than approximately 60 minutes, hm?"
Kira tugged lightly on Hohenheim's sleeve. "Ugh, if this things so "fragile" and "timid"; why dontch'a just send your "mysterious" guys with those black suits and guns!" Kira nagged the tired man. "I mean, isn't she your guys' GOAT? If we know what she lost, maybe she could OHKO that thing in one sli—"
She quickly regretted her decision by putting her head down when Outis and Alan turned to glare at her face, the fact of being a prisoner with the length of her life measured whether or not she proved herself worthy of even basic hospitality—weighed on her consciousness regularly.
She sighed as she watched the older man and woman turn their heads to their respective higher ups. While she's glad that most of the hooligans around her were warming up, Yoshihide especially, her role in the initial raid of the LCE headquarters would take a long time to be fully forgiven. Though, it looks like Hohenheim isn't giving her that demeaning look…
"It left enough evidence that it can be a pretty big problem if we just let it run around…" Ishmael pointed her thumb to Alan, who always stood unusually still; stranger than Meursault even.
"We'll commence a procedure to determine which memories she lost during the use of Arayashiki after all threats are immediately cleared out of the vicinity." Hohenheim reassured the young woman. Kira looked to Yoshihide, or Ryoshu; as her group called her, smoking another cigarette.
"I'll be coming with all of you to gather data on the creature. Who knows, Maybe this WAW code might just be a false classification as the researcher managing it ran for safety during the raid?" Hohenheim addressed to Dante. "Let us move in haste now. A second spent not tracking down this stubborn thing is a second for it to wander into some nest's wing or backstreets."
Alan pointed the group towards a far away gateway, "That way. I am sure my earlier defensive actions have put the creature on its senses, so be wary and good luck."
As soon as the sinners all reached the door, Dante pulled out their case containing the ID cards. "<Let's use the Heishous again, the Maos can help with the evacuation if things go wrong. Plus, they've proven to be best IDs we can use by far.>"
Ryoshu puffed her cigarette, "Typical, N.M.T.F.L".
Sinclair's mopey expression faltered when he gave Ryoshu a grin which seemed to alleviate his mood. "Hm, what do you mean? The Heishous seem quite fun to use while in battle when I'm watching from the sidelines! Sometimes I even wish I got a better one so I could join in to—"
The scabbard of Arayashiki hit Sinclair's head. Seems like Araya really doesn't like this guy… "Hmmmph! Leave her alone shorty!"
"Ow—! It did it again!"
Ryoshu smirked more warm than usual, and just blew a cloud of smoke into the air.
"<If you want to join the fight so badly, you could've just asked Sinclair… I'll put Heathcliff in as well so that an Adept can cover for you.>"
Dante moved to the side and positioned which Sinners should take the lead, putting the H. Corp Identity Cards of Hong Lu, Faust, Ryoshu, Outis, Heathcliff, Yi Sang, and Sinclair, into their respective owner's hands.
"On your guard men! Prepare for possible close quarters combat and assume defensive positions for the executive manager, Hohenheim, and the prisoner!" Outis yelled out as she, along with Ishmael, held their weapons as the door began to open.
The group entered the threshold–the dark and pungent stench of viscera and soft ecru light illuminating the edges of rough crags of keratin. The sinners didn't even need to ask, the look of confusion and disgust playing on the faces of Kira and Ryoshu had already given them an idea of the unfamiliarity of their environment.
Outis led the march as the sinners wandered further into the chasm, sometimes a small punctured hole would tear through the wall; mirror worlds twirling into bundles of fractals and branching long lives. Yet those potentialities and futures were forbidden to be appreciated for more than a mere glance, as the walls caved in once more with the forlorn crags.
"Movement to our right flank, Manager." Meursault placed a hand on Dante's shoulder, their clockhead turning to face the stern man.
The sinners moved into position, determined who was most agile, who had the aptitude to do follow up attacks, and unlocked the blades on Kira's back. Everyone felt confident, their chins held high and proud. They've already beaten some WAWs before, who's to say this one was gonna be more difficult? It was going to go well. They just beat a Docent of the Ring after all.
Yet Dante felt a slightest bit, just a minuscule amount, that they were in for a battle unlike any other. A strange feeling indeed, Dante chalked it up as a minor itch at the back of their clock. "<What's the worst that could happen?>"
<SINCLAIR, MOVE—!!>" Dante threw their hands in the air and ushered the blonde boy, now an armless fighter; staggering as the calloused hands of the creature threw themselves to the more agile Maos. Sinclair heard the order yet the reception was too late as Sinclair's retreat was cut short as the anomaly crushed him under its muscular foot.
"MANAGER ESQUIRE–!" Don Quixote screamed as she hurled herself towards Dante, landing onto the hard linoleum floor. Dante could hardly focus, the pain rushing into them as they rewound the clock for the revivals of the dead sinners felt countless.
Kira jumped to the clock's side and helped them up, "Ugh! This thing is definitely hacking! Did you see how fast it threw that rock at her!"
Dante looked down at Don Quixote's body, her lower half completely turned into a red paste, "<Yea, golly…. Can't wait to feel the feeling of getting crushed again…>" Kira carried Dante towards a safe holdout with Hohenheim. "Try not to overexert your ability, Manager!" Hohenheim shook the collar of Dante's coat lightly, "I'm requesting backup, the radio is just malfunctioning! Just tell Sinner #6 to hold out, he's doing a lot for us right now!"
The Abnormality cried deafeningly foul. Dante, Kira, and Hohenheim staggered to the ground, the sinners in battle all clutched the sides of their faces. The walls shook menacingly until anger resided in the dust motes and enticed them into a frenzy. Dante could hear the unmistakable shattering of the IDs on the sinners, just like back in the great lake.
Even then, Heathcliff's deep voice penetrated the booming fog, "Oi, Clockhead! Watch the floo–!" It was too late. The ground beneath them opened up wide, large enough to swallow the entire room whole if it wished. Dancing pale lights shined through the fissures in the ground and all belligerents involved fell through into the heavenly void below, including the monster that had started this whole ordeal.
<"WHAT IN TARNATION—!?"
Lives flashed before their eyes, fractals of virtues and sins each committed by one person and their fellow, truths and lies uttered in splitting paths, deaths and births of the people present, and the entire concept of infinity—made visible to them for what felt like a lifetime or a minute or even an hour. It was like the glimpses in the hallway, this time heightened to a ridiculous degree.
Another fissure opened beneath them, azure and adorned with the stench of the coast, their fixed gazes upon the heavy beautiful paths interrupted by this light. It branched and branched, enlarging itself and fanning more of its blue-ish hues. The spiraling in their heads became transfixed onto the opening. Then, waves of blue paths danced around them, bouncing off of native mirror worlds and engulfing the dimension as a whole.
A singular forlorn phrase drilled itself into Dante's head like a parasite, unwelcome and foreign. Not by Dante themselves, not a whisper into their ear. It was distorted, sorrowful, and in contrast to what Dante felt, comforting.
,,,
"Welcome to Paradise."