Steward Of Paradise At Work

by Tall-Gothic-Guy

I didn't come here to meet shrine maidens or monsters. I didn't come here to erect a cross. No one even told me about magic being a thing here. Actually, I didn't expect myself to be here at all. I was simply chasing a woman who created eye portals. But it beats being a runaway thief. I just wish I knew sooner, that this place will never give me a break, not even God...Bring it on.

16. Bitter Revenge is Sweet

Her body burned and regenerated every second. She wasn't sure which one was faster than the other, especially in a hellstorm of a library she was in. Quickly escaping the inferno, she left a smoking trail in her flight before stopping in midair, looking over everywhere the enemy might be while her burnt left eyelid regenerated.

The hell wraith was almost everywhere at once, especially at places that burned with red hellfire where his body blended in perfectly that he was almost nonexistent. Even if the apparition screamed in a shrilled howl, especially if he moves or lashes out, the constant rattling of burning wood muffled it along with every other sound. It made tracking her enemy impossible.

The screaming is coming closer.

From the right—

Instantly as she had realized it, a burning shoulder tackled straight into her abdomen and slammed her against the already burning wall. Skin, flesh, and even more of her clothing are eaten away. Her wings are likely winched by the impact. The searing heat reached further and further through her skin, excruciating pain plaguing her unhinged mind. The wraith incinerated her, coating her with ravenous hellfire from top to bottom as he held her against the wall. In her struggle and desperation, she placed hands on where the shoulders would be, letting her hands burn away to the bones, and pulled her legs close before kicking forward, pushing the fiery demon away from her before escaping again to a distant location of the library.

Her skin quickly regenerated, but her pain and exhaustion remained. The fires around her began to roar, their tongues reaching almost towards the ceiling and caging her. As a vampire, her skin could withstand the heat and simple fires but these fires were beyond normal. They were a cross between magical and the supernatural, the latter being half a part of reality and the other a half of the unknown.

She was lucky to discover that only the fires of the wraith could truly harm her. Any other fire in the library, no matter how hot it was or where it came from, it could not kill her so easily. The worst she could get from them is a possible heatstroke and the loss of clothing.

A swooshing sound drew her attention: fires from all direction gathered towards the center of the library, swirling like a maelstrom of inferno before morphing into a twister. Like a cylindrical black hole, the pillar of hellfire sucked in every source of heat in the entire sanctum, the blaze flying towards it like floating rivers, shaping like a massive intersection of streaming hell. Strangely, she wasn't sucked in by the fiery tornado, nor other objects like the books.

Then she realized that she was getting cold….colder….colder.

Freezing….

It was robbing the library of every source of heat, including her already-heat-deprived vampire body.

She must destroy it. If it continues to do so, she'll end up freezing to death.

Extending a shivering hand towards the pillar, she managed to find the eye, placed it in her hand, and—

Everything became white and yellow.

The cyclone of fire erupted in blinding light, and it was fiercely bright that it burned her eyes completely. She never stared straight at the sun before, but she can completely tell what will happen to her if she does, especially how much it hurts. Screaming, she lost flight and fell to the floor, feeling her empty eye sockets.

After regaining her eyes, she found that the bright light had finally disappeared and she turned back to the twister. Her eyes widened.

Stocky arms, made purely of burning obsidian and lava progressively thinning towards the hands, which are nothing but four wicked claws made out of sharp obsidian. An even stockier body, its center glowing bright with burning energy, nearly reaching a titanic 50 feet, its shoulders protruding with 3 spikes on each shoulder, also obsidian. It had no feet; everything down to the waist ended as a twister of burning rock and flame. Its head was either covered by a helmet or it didn't have a head at all. An oval shape headwear, a broad letter T on the front to expose the raging fireball within and let its nonexistent eyes see, and two curving horns pointing upwards, a mark of its diabolic origin.

Flandre stood gaping at the giant sizing her up. It was bigger than anything she ever encountered. Patchouli had summoned most monstrosities before, and the vampire barely get to see them up close but she never saw any one of them being this big, menacing, and utterly malicious. There was not one of them that wanted nothing more than to kill her, a single-target focus of hatred.

The Infernal reared its right claw back, the speed of the motion betraying its massive size, and it threw a hulking molten ball of fire. The size dwarfed Flandre fully. Once she felt the
incinerating heat did she broke out of her trance and swerved to the side, flying onwards towards it to attack. Locating the eye of its existence, she quickly drew it to her hand and—

A sudden shockwave and explosion of heat exploded behind her, sending her form careening towards the charred floors, throwing clouds of ash in her wake. Spitting out any ash she caught in her mouth, she looked up and quickly flew to the side before a burning fist crashed down on her recent position, creating another explosion that made her stagger in flight but quickly recovering. A jet of inferno followed after her in a sweeping motion, the other hand of the Infernal swinging his flaming appendage that nearly rivaled Flandre's vampiric speeds.

The library once again grew to boiling temperatures as the flames of the inferno took no time in breaching every nook and cranny it could find as if it were a living being. They sometimes acted like a living typhoon, actively chasing after the vampire that was trying to escape. When she tried to run for the door to the basement, a fiery maw tried to swallow her whole.

The Infernal seemed to have understood what she was trying to do and quickly sent every wall he could see into pure immolation by letting his back erupt like a volcano, spreading ash and smoke everywhere in the process. Fires burned at every corner, even the ceiling. It worked completely well in containing her. She tries to open a hole in the wall by grabbing its eye, she ends up taking the eye of the fires covering it instead, extinguishing only either a small or large spot of charred wood before it gets filled up. She tries to barrel herself through the burning wall, daring to sacrifice skin and bone for the sake of freedom away from the burning sanctum, the fires would suddenly come to life and lash out at her, as if to keep her away from touching it. One brush of a burning tentacle seared her hand straight to the bone.

She was stuck here with the Infernal.

A deep rumbling below erupted behind her and she quickly flew away from a massive swing from the goliath's smoking claw. Her right foot was burned straight to the muscle because of its heat coming close to it. Screaming, she turned towards the Infernal in a rage and crushed the eye of its arm.

The entire appendage didn't explode entirely but it was easily detached from its body at the bicep. The disembodied arm slammed with a great thump on the ashen floors, its fires instantly dying away and turning into a giant claw shaped charcoal. As it looked at its stump in silent shock, Flandre quickly summoned her wand and swung straight to its helmet while it was distracted. The gratification and catharsis that arrived as her grip vibrated from the impact against the steel helmet was more than satisfying. She had enough of being burned the whole time. This time, it's her turn.

Roaring, she swung endlessly at the Infernal's helmet, loud clangs sounding at each hit. Just being close to it was suffering enough; her hands are already reduced to the bone, the flesh on her wrists were slowly eaten away at the intense heat, but she didn't relent nor did she shy away even a little. She was dead-set on sending the Infernal's head off its body. Dents began to show on the black steel of the helmet and its 'neck' was starting to extend, loosening. About to come off. She was coming close to killing it.

Swing. Clang. Swing. Clang. Swing. Clang. Swing. Clang.

She kept on swinging. Every single blow is enough to destroy one of the mansion's walls from the outside, her pain pushing her supernatural limits even further. The Infernal was literally formidable as a mountain, but its head was starting to tilt, and its neck was slowly about to come off. It couldn't even try to swat her aside, it was too busy being slammed from left to right by the Oni-like strength of the rapid swings of the Lævatein.

Flandre was screaming nonstop as she kept swinging her weapon at the helmet. Her arms are continuously being eaten by the flames and regenerating, her hands nothing but bone and whatever flesh left that could regenerate faster than it was burned. Her face suffered just as much: her nose had already burned away, her left cheek was reduced to a smoking opening that exposed all her gritting teeth, and her right eye socket was bleeding, its contents burned amidst her exertions.

The wand strike again on the left side of the helmet, adding another damage to the former symmetry of the Infernal's head. Flandre struck downwards, making it forcefully bow downwards along with its body. She saw the part where a backbone of the neck would be at its smoldering nape and she struck downwards again. Its neck stretched even further, presumably nearing its collapse. Passing in-between its mangled horns, she landed on the floors, looked up on the ruined helmet's visage and struck: she delivered an uppercut that could shatter 2 small mountains apart upon her ejection from the ground in the quickest of speeds that it destroyed the floors and the Infernal was blown backwards, its upper body bending backwards and its head covered by the bulk of its body, presumably gone. Only the twister on its feet kept it standing in place.

Its remaining claw hung, its claws resting against the ashen floors. Flandre saw that its head was actually still hanging on, dangling like entrails with its neck extending past 10 feet of molten flesh behind it. The helmet at the end was nothing but a piece of ruined metal. The body was still lit with fire, lava and heat rolling across its whole body like blood in veins. And the boiling core in its center was still lighting up.

It must be where Eman was.

Her arms and face fully restored, she floated up to the core's level. It still continued to give off extreme heat but Flandre kept getting nearer. Just one stab is enough. Buried beneath this core was the human. Up close, there seemed to be a membrane keeping the core within. There also seemed to be a rushing river of flame within, implying that ripping it open will cause an overflow. She will have to be quick in this.

Floating just in front of it, she lifted her wand above her head, the point aimed straight in the middle.

In a hissy and raspy voice, a monotonous sound of steel sliding against stone, she said, "Come out, Eman-saaaan…."

She sunk the wand right into it. It pierced through the membrane, but merely half of the Lævatein's point made it through. Adjusting her grip, she pressed the wand further in, the flowing flames inside coating the point but somehow not melting it despite her suspicions. The point was fully in, but not any further than that.

"Now we slice down…."

Adjusting her grip once again, angling her flight path to go downwards, she took a deep breath and—

The Infernal suddenly grabbed her before she could do anything.

Right shoulder shattered, all right ribcages cracked, all left ribcages broken, left leg joint dislocated, and her navel pierced by a molten thumb claw. Held captive by the alive Infernal's claw, she was pulled away from his core, her grip on the Lævatein lost and she beheld the sudden events: the bended body of the goliath straightened, its elongated neck still dropping behind it. Slowly, the neck shortened back to its original length, the mangled helmet crackled as the dents and ruined stone (not metal like she thought) readjusted itself fully before resting atop its smoldering shoulders. A rumbling sound of rock and boiling lava molding together coming from its missing arm drew her attention and she witnessed the stump suddenly regrowing its lost arm.

The Infernal was whole again, looking as good as new as if Flandre had done absolutely nothing to it.

Using the regenerated arm, it grabbed the Lævatein out of its chest, ripping a rather large opening in the process (with nothing overflowing except mist-like fire), threw it away and went to hold the other claw that held her captive and multiplied the burning, crushing, and agonizing pressure put on her. Her pelvis was crushed completely, and the thumb that punctured her middle had already reached her spine. No doubt her legs were definitely reduced to fragments, she could be bleeding from the open fractures but she couldn't tell amidst the smoldering pain and the smell of ash and fire.

Her eyes were still intact, and she could see the obvious weakness: his exposed core.

When the fire-like mist cleared out, she could see a rather large diamond-shaped gem inside, almost as similar as Patchy's Philosopher's Stones but bigger. She wasn't sure if it was orange or red-colored but it was clearly large enough to hold a human inside.

Submitting to self-preservation than indulgence, she set her eyes on the target. She will have to sacrifice that delicious blood if it means coming out alive from this scuffle.

Besides her head, her left arm was luckily unhindered by its grasp. By sheer willpower, she forced herself through the excruciating pain and grabbed for the eye of the core crystal. Coughing blood and letting out periodical squeaks at every crack of bone that resonated from her body, she instantly crushed the crystal's eye the sooner she had it in her grasp.

After that, it was nothing but pure brightness once again.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

When she was sure that her whole body was regenerated, she opened her eyes and began to cough. When she rose up to her knees to examine her environment, nearly everything was coated black with charcoal and ash. Where the fires used to burn, especially the walls, they left a mark of black smudges. There were no more brighter sources of lighting. Every light source in the library was gone except for the cinders that still lingered on surviving wood. Looking forward to where the Infernal used to stand, there was nothing but a deep black smoking crater. Unmistakably dead. Alongside Eman's…..

Her throat tried to speak out but only a silent whisper broke out. "….wha…." She frowned, suddenly beginning to feel lost. What had she been doing? What was going on? What just happened?

She retract everything that had happened. She could remember that she attacked Eman in the dark hallway. She was stabbed in the eye. Marisa suddenly came. She chased them all the way to the library. Eman was possessed. Marisa fought him and brought him back. After that, they played. She lost the danmaku game. She was promised blood. She was going to her bed quarters. Then she ended up smelling somethi—

Her eyes widened, the horror of what happened next struck her like a thunderbolt. "….I….I…." Tears began to form, the guilt suddenly beginning to well in her gut, the fear of the punishment she will receive from her sister when she hears of this incident is developing in her heart. "…Marisa-nee…..is—"

[DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!‼!‼!‼!‼!‼!‼!]

It was so sudden.

First, there was a single footstep, then came next a demonic roar.

After that, she was grabbed by both her shoulder joints and slammed against the wall, hard. Hard enough to actually bend her left wing and shatter the crystals hanging there.

Then, her arms were forcefully torn off the shoulders as if they were nothing but leaves from a branch.

Before she could even scream, a blunt maw bit down on her neck, the same pair of hands that dismembered her arms quickly gripped her shoulders before the jaw forcefully ripped off a large chunk of flesh, spurting out precarious amounts of blood.

Then she was suddenly lit aflame. Caught in the same blaze that shrouded her assailant. The torture was slow: without her arms she could do nothing to escape. Her assailant kept her on ground-level with a deathly tight grip as she gets ravaged the flames. From the open wound on her neck, the flames seeped in like hungry parasites, and they began eating her from the inside out with flame, ash, and Hell. Came first the skin, then followed her tissue, then her muscles. The entire burning process was slow, and she endlessly screamed all throughout.

And then, there was darkness as her eyes burned last, popping like tiny balloons filled with blood.

She was still alive afterwards, long enough for the flames to erupt out of every orifice her body had, just so the parasitic flames inside her could escape.

There were no more screams, only the sound of burning and incinerating flesh.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

The Unclean Spirit dropped the charred little body to the floors unceremoniously, uncaring of its horrid appearance. Traces of skin or flesh, ultimately gone. There was some muscle and bones showing, especially around the skull area; they were all charred black. There is no trace of wet blood left. He could only smell it. She was still smoking, the Unclean Spirit finds himself comparing it to fried chicken.

He bared his teeth, inclined to find out what she tastes like. Then he spat out the cursed blood out of his mouth, lighting up his tongue with hellfire just in case before hacking out what was left of it with molten spit.

DiSgUsTiNg VaMpIrE fIlTh…

He won't entertain himself by satiating his hunger. He is still unsatisfied. It's still not enough. This vampire is still guaranteed to come back to life. It's nigh-impossible to kill a vampire, especially one that is long-lived and is capable of coming back from a single cell; charring their bodies wouldn't mean much. They will simply rise from the ashes of their corpse.

Not enough suffering.

Not enough pain.

Taking the knife out of his tattered pants' surviving pocket, he threw it upwards and caught it by the blade, letting the sharp side cut into his palm. Squeezing, his Vessel's holy blood leaked out and slid down the point of the blade. He'll have to make good use of it before its holy contents disappear because of his influence.

Tilting the frozen scream of the vampire's face to look upwards with his foot, he let the holy blood slid down to her mouth. Once a sizable amount has filled up, he moved to pry open the left ribcage with a free hand just to expose the burnt heart and let a few drops of blood land there.

Satisfied, he threw the blade to the air once again and his other hand caught it by the grip, primed to deliver a good, sensual stabbing session.

As patient as a mountain, he waited, waiting for the reaction to arrive. He was very still, his eyes unblinking and firmly planted on the charred corpse in front of him, anticipating the first heartbeat.

…

…..…..

…..…..…..

Lub….dub….

The Unclean Spirit smirked wickedly, the legions of lesser spirits inside his Vessel cheering uproariously for the revitalized excitement that was about to come.

sEcOnD rOuNd….!

This time, he'll enjoy himself thoroughly. The child will likely be unable to fight back once she rises. Just the way his Vessel likes it, helpless and weak, small and vulnerable. He will gratify himself and Eman, two birds with one stone. Maybe three if he inclines the Vessel's vengeance into the play. Four if he considers that he is annihilating the first competition and blasphemer of his name.

This will be fun.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

"You have not thought this through, didn't you?" Yukari asked neutrally, her ominous smirk remaining still on her face.

Remilia was frozen on the spot, her pale face becoming even paler at the presence of the Youkai sage that looked like she was about to hand out capital punishment in the most unimaginable way. "Yo-you can't say that." She stuttered. "I memorized every single word of that book, it can't be wrong!"

"Haven't you ever wondered that the information might be outdated?" Yukari turned to the very-still Patchouli, "How old was the untranslated version of the text?"

Gripping the book in her hands tightly, she replied with controlled breath, "It was written in 1369 by a Greek scholar, translated to Polish when it was stolen or likely handed over at a traveling expedition, and kept in storage by the Church in 1408. 20 years before the infamous Dracula, Vlad Tepes the Impaler was born."

Yukari returned to the descendant of Dracula, "Have you ever wondered why there was a book about killing or curing vampires before your so-called ancestry was even born? Did you really think that Dracula was the first vampire?"

"Who-who else is?" Remilia stuttered rhetorically, stubbornly holding up a very defensive face while her blood red eyes exposed just how defeated she already was, "I have never heard of any other vampire that was born before him! Who else do you think it was!?"

Yukari smirked even widely, loving the way she squirmed with such desperate responses, "You should be reading more Greek stories, little lady. You might make a wonderful image if you spout some kind of nonsense such as being the descendent of a goddess instead of the silly claim that you descend from the Impaler that fought for God's temples."

Yukari absolutely loved the flabbergasted look on the Scarlet's face. The vampire never read that much about him, did she? She really wished she could take a picture of that one face, it would make its way as one of the bestest sights she had ever seen in her long lived existence as a very old Youkai.

She turned to the maid, she asked, "Tell me, have you seen anything suspicious about that boy? Something….regarding his eyes?"

Patchouli was the one to look at Sakuya with shock, Remilia was lost as to what was being implied.

"He had dark eyes. It was prior to my defeat in the library, his eyes were a bottomless void of nothing." Sakuya answered formally, but Yukari did not miss the slightest bit of tension in her blue eyes. She was clearly shaken by that incident.

"And I assume you saw it too, librarian." Patchouli stiffened when she was now addressed, "What is your hypothesis as to what that means? Hmm?"

"Possession." She quickly answered with the first thing that came to her mind when she pondered over it on her walk to her laboratory, "Likely provoked via mental distress. He was clearly at a disadvantage when he fought with his fists against a plethora of knives, and his agitation left him vulnerable to the possession process."

"Have you discovered what kind of gift he has? I believe it will hint you on what is going on."

Patchouli looked away for just a second before looking back at the yellow eyes of the sage, "I'm afraid I haven't. He has already went past the point of maturity but it still lays undiscovered, I could presume that even he doesn't realize it yet."

Yukari smiled, having two meanings behind it, and the librarian only saw one. "What if I told you that he has more than one entity possessing him?"

"A host can retain its sense of self willingly or unwillingly depending on the strength or whim of the entity or depending on the willpower of the host. The number of entities can only increase the risk of the host becoming susceptible to losing sense of identity entirely." Patchouli explained, then frowned questioningly, "How many are there possessing him?"

Yukari flicked her fan open and covered her mouth with it, hiding whatever expression she'll make once she hears of it, "Six evil spirits."

"What!?"

"What? What!?" Remilia shouted, confused to no end, "What does this mean!? Explain, Patchy!"

"Tha-tha-tha-that's impossible!" Patchouli exclaimed, disbelief covering her entire mien, "A single person could not maintain such a number of them without succumbing to loss of identity or self-destruction for more than a single minute! There should be competition amongst the other entities that could lead to suicidal tendencies of the host—" She was quickly cut off by a violent cough. Remilia quickly came to her side to rub her back, Sakuya quickly drew out her inhaler.

Yukari turned her back on them and turned towards the moon. The time in Gensokyo is still unmoving, and the storm at the Scarlet Devil Mansion still roared, and widely expanding from the place. It won't be long before Youkai Mountain gets caught in its midst, and considering the number of Tengu (very proud beings) who live inside it, King will not be merciful in his onslaught compared to what he's doing to the House of the Devil.

When she heard the coughing finally stopping, she proceeded, "There were signs of suicidal tendencies, subtle ones. You wouldn't even notice them thanks to his general personality. There was competition, but the boy was completely unaffected." She looked over her shoulder, trying to see how the librarian will react to this one, "He was offered a bed to rest, yes?"

Patchouli snapped her head up, looking back at her with shock. "Yo-you mean…"

If a possessed person slept, the risk of identity loss is increased immensely, especially if night terrors attacked the victim in their sleep. That was common knowledge here in Gensokyo.

"He was still himself once he woke up at the hour of 10:12 P.M. You can say that he had a wonderful sleep." She informed with a small smirk, "At the hour of 12:59:59 A.M., his body was attacked by a different entity. An entity much, much worse than the six evil spirits inside him. Thanks to this newcomer, the first batch of entities were destroyed, completely. The symptoms were starting to show from there, magician: self-destructive tendencies, sudden personality lapses, some cases of paranoia, and—in the case of the entity's nature—episodes of sadism, especially if the boy's body was under its control."

"Who is this entity?" Remilia demanded, not asked. It seemed her former nervousness is replaced by the grimness of the situation.

"The worst among all of them to actually possess him, Ms. Scarlet." She unhelpfully supplied, loving the irritation sparking in the vampire's eyes, "I believe you are acquainted with who he is. You even shared the same moniker as him."

Her red eyes widened at this, "Another Scarlet Devil?"

"Oh no, no, no, no." Yukari shook her head softly, hiding her smirk behind her fan. "The other moniker."

Remilia's face contorted to a confused scowl, completely lost as to what she was talking about.

"Devil." Patchouli supplied, then her face slowly dawned on the implications.

"The question is 'which one'?" Yukari told, "I will hint you a few attributes for your sakes." She offered, waving her fan ever so slowly on her face. "An incarnation of pride and anger; powerful enough to deny competition in the same host; powerful enough to command several thousands of legions of demons while possessing a host; corrupt enough to taint the host's sacred blood; and finally, born from the Christian mythology." She huffed a tiny chuckle, "The boy's spiritual devotion to his religion attracted quite the number of spirits last Sunday, but this particular entity was the most interested that it will stop at nothing to take over the boy's body."

"Just what are you trying to say here!?" Remilia spatted. Quite the front this brat was showing, especially when the nervousness in her eyes were practically leaking out.

"Do you know the nature of Holy Blood, Ms. Scarlet?" Yukari asked, ignoring/acknowledging the question. "It is corruptible, easily tampered like a clean glass of water. If it was wielded by the wrong hands for the wrong purposes—to be used for atrocious ends, the water is contaminated with impurity, becoming unclean and undrinkable." She snapped her fan shut and pointed it at the vampire's face, "With a very powerful and malevolent entity tainting the boy's Holy Blood, what do you think your Darling Little Sister will end up feeding on if she managed to do so successfully for the first time?"

A thunderclap resonated in the skies, and Yukari noticed that the winds in their midst are starting to pick up, making her dress and golden hair flutter magnificently in the air. Ah, it's getting nearer. The storm is coming, and King does not have the patience to wait for her to leave. Soon enough, the place where she and the Scarlet Devil Mansion trio stood, beside the Road of Liminality, just beside Youkai Mountain, this area will turn into a wasteland post-disaster of a typhoon.

Simply waving her hand, a barrier is built up around them and the pacing winds and whooshing sounds around them suddenly fell silent. In this fashion, the conversation can continue.

Fixing a lock of immaculate golden hair behind her ear, she continued, "There is something you are clearly unaware of, and I am willing to inform it to you so you can save yourselves from making any errors in the near future." She stepped closer…even closer, completely at touching distance between her and the vampire. Leaning downwards to let herself be heard better, she said to her, "Eman Letitia is under my protection."

Could there be any paler shade than the vampiric skin Remilia has? Yukari found out that there is. The girl is absolutely still, there would be no surprises if she ends up wetting herself. Remilia Scarlet has just earned the ire of the Youkai Sage by endangering the wellbeing of somebody under her protection.

Yukari was loving every bit of her reaction. She straightened her posture but remained where she stood, staring down on the very-still vampire, "Calm down, Ms. Scarlet." She assured sincerely/insincerely. If Queen was present in this situation, she would have seen through every double-meaning the sooner they come out of her mouth. "While he may have insurance over his life, his wellbeing is under any whim he is subjected to, especially yours. Either let him be hurt, harmed, maimed, or even lose an arm, I would care less. Put him at the risk of death, however, and we have a problem. He has many things Gensokyo needs. That is exactly why I brought him here."

Snapping her fan back to cover her face, she pressed a tone of authority in her voice. It has been quite a while since she has used this kind of voice, "I will not hold it against you since you are using the boy for his Holy Blood but what you've pulled this evening is not what I desired. You simply want to kill him, and for what? As a form of insult to the Christian God? An act of prejudice for certain people you specifically hate?"

Remilia's eyes twitched, a defiant spark lighting up in the red depths as she glared back at her, "You…..you don't know me—"

"I know your history, Remilia Scarlet," Yukari quickly cut off, crushing whatever rebellious spirit she developed just by speaking, "When I released the boundary of Reality and Fantasy to call upon all the foreign Youkai outside of Japan into Gensokyo more than 500 years ago before Gensokyo's completion so they can be saved from extinction, your family were among the prominent figures I took an interest in." Then she let some of her honesty show; she looked at Remilia sympathetically, "Things could've been different had they lived. You and I could have been friends."

The bloody tears were instantly welling up in her eyes, and admittedly Yukari disliked seeing them on the girl's face. The Majesty of the Scarlet name was forever broken that day. The things that happened to her in that day: so many fires, loss, and pain. It was the day that she submitted to become the name given to her by the Church.

Her father was quite the character, her mother moreso. Betrayed and burned, a death undeserved by such wonderful people.

Turning around, she took several steps forward before stopping. She didn't turn around as she spoke, her voice was as loud as if she was at touching distance despite her distance. "Let this be a reminder to you, Scarlet Devil Mansion: Eman Letitia is my tool. I am the one who brought him here, and I will use every valuable contribution he could possibly give in any way I see fit for the sake of Gensokyo. You are the first people I chose to have him led to just so you could procure one of the valuable resources he doesn't realize he carried. You may have sway over his Holy Blood as part of his contributions but you do not have sway over his life, especially if he is Christian."

Yukari turned around once again, and looked at Remilia critically.

"To be honest, I expected you to take the chance to use his Holy Blood to cure your sister, yet what did you do? You created a plan that I could consider 'offhanded' just so you could earn yourself another dose of catharsis by getting him killed in your domain. You could have just told—or should I say—demanded him to hand over a few liters of his blood just so you can remove Flandre Scarlet's vampirism. He would not have refused, he would have seen it as another variation of the bloodletting services he commonly partakes in the outside world. But no, you chose to risk losing this one in a million chance to save your sister with a plan. It was Revenge over Diplomacy."

Then her eyes narrowed, half of her face covered fully by her fan.

"Tell me, Remilia Scarlet: who are you really thinking for? Your sister….or yourself?"

It's safe to say that she has finally struck a nerve. Remilia Scarlet will not be tolerating any more verbal assaults from her anymore and will quickly submit to letting her magic do the talking instead. The Spear of Gungnir was already sparking in her hand, brimming with energy and primed to explode.

Yukari quickly created a gap behind her, opting to leave instead of dealing with a pointless scuffle with her, "You best hurry home, before your sister unwittingly drinks tainted blood and ends up turning into an abomination that will potentially endanger not just herself and the entire residence of the Scarlet Devil Mansion but all of Gensokyo. Such a thing occurs, then I will have no choice but to send Reimu in just so she could exterminate her permanently for the sake of my world's safety…..if she is not killed by the king of Hell first."

Remilia threw, and she made the very earth explode with the spear, creating a small canyon of broken ground, dirt and destroyed trees straight through forestry in front of her, receding as far as the eye could see until the magical red spear disappeared to nothing.

Yukari was already gone before Remilia could do hit anybody.

Her voice, however, echoed loudly in the vampire's ears. "If the poor girl survives and my tool doesn't, then I will have the first honors of punishing your little sister before Reimu could get ahold of her, and there is nothing you can do to stop me."

The barrier that stopped the mega-typhoon from touching them is now gone. The two individuals who are the most vulnerable to the elements got lucky that their Maid could stop time and send them to a place where the storm has not reached yet. Any chance they have of getting back to the mansion will depend entirely on the efforts of the magician winning a clash against the Wind.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

Eman's back slammed against the wall, bouncing off of it with a resounding thud before falling to the floor, smoke coming out of his burnt shoulder, exposing 2nd degree burns, a faint groan croaking out of his mouth before the wound closed up as fires coated the entire opening before disappearing entirely.

"Eman-san! Stop this! Please!" Flandre pleaded, her bloody wand in her right hand as she tried to reason with the possessed Eman. "Please stop fighting! You'll just hurt yourself even more!"

"Hk! Hk! Hk! Hk! Hk!" A mocking chuckle was all she heard as the man rose to his knees, then back to his feet. It seemed things didn't go the way he expected, the brat could still put up a fight after the Holy Blood regenerated her to the very last atom of her vampire body. It even revitalized her energy supply, and she woke up sane, unprovoked by the Host's Blood.

Not for long though. So long as the Vessel's Holy Blood is still pure, he'll keep regenerating her over and over and over and over until it's completely tainted. Once she dies, he'll shove his influence over the girl with the black blood and fight her once again while her mind and body is corrupted, and once she's a single inch from death he will spoil the Vessel's purity by violating the girl's flesh, and then kill her as she weeps for her sister.

Conjuring an explosive missile in his hand, he pitched the fireball upwards to the ceiling and the end of a chandelier's chain that kept it hanging to the ceiling was hit, sending it falling to the ground with a spine-chilling clatter of metal and expensive-crystals. The chains clattered loudly in a pile next to it and Eman quickly disentangled the chains from it by melting one link, taking a sizable length and yanking the entirety of his makeshift weapon to his feet.

From where he held the chains, the metal slowly turned orange, then red, red hot from the fire in his grasp, and it slowly spread out through the entire length, the chains closest to his hands now a searing yellow.

Grinning menacingly at his handiwork, he suddenly spun in place, the chains flying in his momentum catching fire and quickly slung towards Flandre's distance. The vampire quickly flew out of the trajectory, earning herself a few burns on her flesh as the heat of the weapon physically harmed her. Turning with desperate eyes to the man, she tried once again, "Eman, please! Wake up! You are possessed! Don't listen to the demon! He's making you do this!"

Eman continued to swing the burning whip as if he didn't hear her or simply ignored her, his black-eyed gaze remained fully glaring at her. It unsettled her. They looked greedy, hungry, and completely hateful all at once. The chains came from the top, she quickly dashed backwards in her flight, colliding against the wall and the man quickly took advantage of her confusion to strike quickly. A horizontal swing came her way, she swiftly flew upwards, the whip missing her toes by the hairs. The heat, however, did not spare her feet from burning away to the bones. She yelped in agony as the flesh of her soles were immediately eaten.

Yanking the chains back to himself, he held each sides of the chains by the ends, arched his hands behind him and threw them forward, [HAAAARRGGHH!‼] The chains flew through the air like a very long spear, one aimed directly at Flandre's heart and the other flying towards her head. The vampire dashed to the side, away as possible from the burning chains' flight path to make sure she doesn't burn right away just by being close to it.

Both chains pierced right through the wall, incinerating the surface as the still-steaming momentum of the whips made them extend to their maximum length in Eman's hands and fell slack to the floors in a loud clatter—

He suddenly made the length of the chains lash out to the side with a strong yank of his hands. Flandre's bare abdomen met the assault in full-force, sending her crashing against the floors, rolling several times, mangling her wings in the process before the momentum stopped. Her middle was bleeding, blackened from the strike of the hot metal, and literally ripped open, exposing a little bit of her innards while the rest are simply burnt muscle that quickly repaired itself.

Yanking the yellow whips out of the wall, sending a few pieces of debris out of the wall with it, he rushed towards Flandre's collapsed form, bringing with him a horrifying resonation of dragging metal that heralded so much pain in store for her. The sooner she heard it, she forcefully ignored the agony in her midsection and took to the air, only to be pulled straight back down to the ground as a burning hot grip wrapped around her ankle, easily melting away the skin, through the muscle, and into the bone. Her screams were enough to destroy any eardrum that was nearby.

Slowly and slowly, he pulled her crumpled form closer and closer. An unhurried action with his one hand, one pull at a time, and he made sure every single yank meant a single step closer to her demise. She knows that, oh she does. She was already starting to dig her vampire claws into the floors, hoping to be rooted to the spot. Her defiance only added to the excitement and he exerted more strength to his pull. All that vampire pride, all that haughtiness supported behind all that immense power greater than most Youkai, reduced to this terrified wreck. He greatly wished that the other Scarlet took her place. Her fall would be so much more delicious than this little whelp.

How he loved the sight.

His grin widening to the point where it bleeds, he pulled, hard.

CrY aNd DeSpAiR, VaMpIrE! KnOw TeRrOr!

She was already dragging lines as his superior strength dominated her grip on the floors. She was 9 more tugs away before he will have his way with her, and many of his legions are already impatient, struggling to jump out of the Vessel and do what they wished with her. He easily asserted his dominance over them and they were silenced. Patience, patience. He chose to be patient, and his subjects will follow his example whether they like it or not. The longer the wait, the sweeter the reward.

Behind him, a titanic wall of fire roared to life, the color red and darker shades of it intermingling to mark its origins straight out of the hottest pits of hell. One step back, then another….then another, his entire form was swallowed whole by the inferno and his Vessel remained intact, still pulling Flandre closer and closer to join him.

CoMe ThIs WaY, lItTlE oNe! It'S mOrE fUn HeRe!

"NO! NO! PLEASE, DON'T!"

YeS! ScReAm!

"Help! Onee-sama! Patchy! Sakuya!"

CaLl ThEiR nAmEs! CrY fOr YoUr LoVeD oNeS! wAiL aLl YoU wAnT!

"MEILING! ANYBODY!"

tHeY aRe NoT cOmInG tO sAvE yOu! ThEy LeFt YoU hErE wItH mE tO dIe!

One more tug and he will personally deliver the girl straight to hell.

[AAAAARRRGGGHHHHH!] With a shrilled roar of triumph that rivaled a banshee's, his other hand grabbed on to the chain and pulled. A piece of the floors came off, ripped off the ground by Flandre's claws as she was suddenly yanked off the ground, the lack of resistance easily drawing her close to the wall of hellfire—

Eman felt an opposing grip from the chain.

Blackened eyes furrowing in question, they instantly widened as he was suddenly pulled from the ground, sent flying straight forward to the air, out of the hellfire—

He was brutally clotheslined by a slender yet well-toned bicep, sending his form whirling in the air with the Vessel's neck nearly snapping in half before hitting the ground headfirst, tumbling quite a distance before stopping.

"Sorry, but Hell is one of the fewest places Ms. Flan is strictly forbidden from entering!" Hong Meiling shouted, throwing the chains all the way to the end of the library behind her where the demon will have to through her if he wants it back. Her hands are visibly scarred from the hot metal but she showed no weakness from it. "It seems you are asking for more, Demon! I'll gladly hand it over to you if you so desperately—"

A tight grip around her thighs and a wailing cry cut her off, "Meiling! Meiling!"

Her hardened eyes immediately softened upon seeing the fragile sight crying to her side. Completely naked, vampiric pale skin laid bare for the world to see, haggard and caked with ash and healed wounds, appearing more like a vulnerable child than an unpredictable minor with an abnormal mentality, Flandre Scarlet buried her face to the coat of her uniform, traumatized.

Glancing to the side just to see that the wall of fire/the gate of hell suddenly extinguished while she wasn't looking, she quickly removed her green vest, revealing the still-wet white blouse and threw it around the poor girl's shoulders to give her at least a little bit of modesty. She quickly wrapped arms around her, "Ssshh. Ssshh, it's okay, Ms. Flan. I'm here. I'm here."

Flandre said nothing, only wailing on her shoulder, shaken. Meiling looked at her wings and noticed that her right wing has been bent, several crystals either cracked or just gone.

She pursed her lips grimly. Things had gotten worse while she wasn't around to monitor the two. It ended up having the two going at each other's throats with full prejudice and malice. Eman ended up getting possessed, Flandre ended up losing control. And there was suddenly Marisa bleeding on the ground! Just what the hell happened while she was keeping the uprooted trees from hitting the walls!? She had risked going through the woods to find out who was doing it, only to discover many potholes that looked like they used to have a tree filling them. There weren't any foot prints or tracks. Even if it rained violently, there had to be some kind of trace that someone was there. In such a dangerous storm, they had to be planting themselves to the ground if they didn't want their balance going awry from the hard winds.

She found no trace of any former presence in that area. It was as if ghosts had been the ones that threw those trees. When she decided to forget it and run back to the mansion, a twister took the most unfortunate time to be present. She ran right into one, and she was mercilessly thrown in several directions like a ragdoll inside before she was spatted out like filth, landing on the disturbed waters of the Misty Lake, only to be sucked into a waterspout. She was ravaged by water and pressure from within alongside the marine life caught in it. She was sure she had bumped into a very large fish inside, and probably the tree she threw moments earlier. She was practically helpless inside, her powers lending her no benefit except the endurance to withstand whatever punishment Nature threw at her.

She had lost consciousness at some point inside, when she woke up she found herself right in front of the gate of the Scarlet Devil Mansion. Whether this was pure luck or Mother Nature just got sadistic and picked her as a target for her amusements, she was glad that she woke right in her workplace. Fixing her dislocated shoulder into place and detaching her attachment to her lost hat, she jumped over the gate, flew towards the front doors and rushed inside, looking for the two.

She ended up seeing a commotion near the front doors of the library in the hallway. There was a population of hobgoblins that she didn't knew were that many, some had collapsed to the floors, some looked exhausted, some were agitated (a very bad sign), and she saw Marisa's corpse on the floor, her complexion looking close to death, her black and white witch outfit reeked of blood—her blood, and there was a massive scar on her left side.

She had panicked, thinking she had died but her detection of the witch's qi reassured her that she was still stable, especially when the goblins had healed her before she could go beyond saving. When she had calmed down, she had already started asking questions to the goblins.

She couldn't believe her ears when every goblin told the story in every sentence possible, they even spoke in unison to the same sentence, finished each other's sentences, corrected each other's sentences, and paraphrased each other's sentences to give her the perfect picture.

Eman was attacked by an invisible apparition.

Eman thought it was Flandre.

Eman panicked and ran.

Eman bled from the attack.

Flandre was right nearby and smelled his blood.

She lost control and attacked Eman.

Eman got possessed, and fought back.

Eman gouged both Flandre's eyes out and she got into a rage, breaking the hallways.

Eman retreated and got cornered.

Marisa suddenly arrived, saving him at the nick of time.

Marisa and Eman escaped to the library to be safe from the storm as the walls were getting breached.

Flandre chased after them.

Eman was fully possessed in the library and turned on Marisa.

Marisa and Eman fought in a spell card battle, burning the entire library.

Eman lost.

Things got calm afterwards.

Flandre, Eman, and Marisa had a truce, thinking that someone else attacked Eman first.

They began playing childish games together, eventually leading to a danmaku play fight.

Eman was possessed midway without the others noticing but managed to resist it.

He suddenly had the affinity to manipulate fire magic. He used the magic to fight.

Eman and Marisa eventually won. An explosion ended the fight.

The three were about to go to sleep, Flandre was distracted by blood.

The blood sent Flandre out of control and attacked Eman.

Marisa saw her coming and pushed him out of the way, only to be hit in his place.

Eman became wild, burning the entire library.

The hobgoblins managed to get Marisa and Koakuma out of the library before they got hit by collateral.

And that was it. The hobgoblins couldn't risk spying inside the library without getting burnt by Eman's wildfires. Their leader was not sure who will win, and it was likely someone was going to die, especially the Little Mistress.

She immediately bolted to the library doors, concerned. There was a troop of goblins barring the doors with a magical seal, as if to keep something from getting out. There was smoke coming out beneath the door and she could already feel the heat coming from within. She demanded to release the barriers and be let in. Jergo was there, and he quickly refused, concerned for her safety. She reasoned that the young mistress was in there, and she is in great danger. She needs to get out of there. Jergo reasoned that she'll live, and likely win. Meiling could tell that the leader was withholding something else in his worse, and likely the rest before did when they told the story.

Meiling just decided that she doesn't care about the mistress's chances and will choose to use force if he doesn't let her pass.

Jergo reluctantly relented, ordering the boys to step aside and open the door only silently, making sure he is not spotted and draw the possessed Eman's attention to them. According to Jergo, he was much worse than his prior possessions.

Flandre's screams for help already made her ignore every warning and immediately jumped inside, managing to snag the chain in the nick of time before Flandre could get dragged into the fire.

Picking her up and holding her close, keeping her face buried to her shoulder and let her cry there, Meiling quickly took to the air, flying over the crumpling form of the possessed Eman. He was still holding his neck, coughing out blood and glaring hatefully at her. Half-worried and half-infuriated, she told him, "Just wait there!"

She reached the second level balcony of the library and quickly ran to the left side, heading for the door that the goblins were leaving open for them both. Quickening her steps, her hold on Flandre even tighter, she only needed one more leap and she can get Flandre out of danger. "Jergo! Quickly get her—"

A white blur slammed against the balcony with a deafening thud just before the door and the masonry exploded in a cloud of dust and cement. More than a few goblins that were close to the impact were struck with the debris, sending them back into the hallway with cuts and severe injuries. Meiling skidded to a stop before she could jump off, trying to look out for where that blur went but was too late to realize that it was coming for her and she met a blow that would've snapped her neck had she not subconsciously covered her entire body with qi to strengthen it before she was sent flying backwards.

Her consciousness didn't survive.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

Ricocheting every possible direction he could get: wall to ceiling˃ ceiling to ground˃ ground to the ceiling of the second floor balcony˃ he slammed his feet right into the hallway of the ground floors that led to the library. Right before him are a squadron of goblins, already casting their spells at the ready and some of them are being dragged away from his distance. He growled at them before jumping upwards to the ceiling like a bullet, easily shattering the masonry and letting it crash down to bar the entrance. Jumping back inside the library to avoid being crushed, he immediately threw an immolation of hellfire on the pile of rocks to make sure nobody touches it, not even magic could negate it.

Jumping once again, he rebounded whatever surface he touched until he landed with a resounding thud right before the unconscious form of the gatekeeper with the vampire struggling to wake her up. Probably noticing his presence, Flandre turned to him with blood tears streaking down her cheeks, then back to Meiling's collapsed form before turning back to him, sneering. The desperation and trauma in her eyes slowly eroding to a disdainful glare, the fear and helplessness in her being seemingly disappearing.

His fury is ignited, growling furiously. Things are going the wrong way. The child was not supposed to grow back her confidence. The bitch guard was not supposed to be here. The kid was supposed to burn. How did things turn up this way!?

"Grrr! Enough!" Her shout had a catastrophic effect around her, including him. The floors on her feet cracked, the air around her turned completely into vacuum, creating a small whooshing sound as the air quickly filled in the gaps. His Vessel's ears had erupted, causing them to bleed. He visibly flinched. "I've had enough of you controlling Eman-san's body! I've had enough of you causing everybody problems! And lastly, I can't stand you wearing Eman-san's face! You're ugly! You're bad! I'll hurt you so bad you will never touch Eman-san again!" She rose to her feet, an aura of scarlet outlining her form. Her claws extended, her vampire fangs grew in length that it pierced her lower lip, and her eyes glowed menacingly.

Her face morphed, perfect immaculate skin contorting to a menacing form. Color began to take place, a pale shade of brown, and the surface began to grow rougher, calloused, harder, tougher. She exchanged her skin with the flesh that the older, wiser, and far more docile vampires wore in the time of battle. Many creases were revealed as she glared hatefully at him, the slits in her blood red eyes constricting tightly, and there was the expansion in her thighs and biceps, calves and forearms, bulging in fine proportions that it made her suddenly look like a true predator.

Her primal form was incomplete, Eman analyzed. This form only just scratched the surface of its finality, it is the weakest variant of the transformation, the weakest of its type. Vampires, however, had a reputation for being strong, standing in one of the highest tiers in Youkai ranks, especially if they're past their first century.

Yes, this just got even more difficult.

[HHHHHHRRRRRRGGGGHHHHHH!‼!‼!‼!‼!] He deeply growled, the veins in his hands bulging and the ground below him cracked, his feet applying the strongest pressure in preparation for an assault.

"HHAAAAAAAGGGHHHH!‼" Flandre shrieked, showing all her teeth. Her wings, despite being mangled, shook vigorously, the crystals jingling in deeper octaves. They even began to glow, only in the darkest shades, and the scarlet aura around her began to become prominent.

At the snap of Eman's pinky joint, the two seemingly disappeared and the ground in-between them exploded in dust and rubble, then a spot on the ceiling, then the faraway corner at the left side of the library, then a large section on the ground floors was decimated in their imperceptible clash. Blood began to appear in thin air, splattering charcoaled walls and ashen floors as if an invisible being was being savaged out of sight. Growls and screams echoed everywhere in the destruction, along with the deep orchestra of crystals jingling, with the occasional roaring. The more time passes, the rampage of two beings desperately trying to kill the other gets even worse. Sections on the walls are nothing but rubble, allowing the earth behind it to breach in. Craters were already developing on the floors, causes varied; a strike missing its target or a body meeting the ground, results ending with a bloody splatter or a solid round imprint. Smaller craters were present, made from damaged shoes running across its surface at rapid speeds or from a high-speed ballistic jump off the ground.

A blur passed by in the speed of sound and the floor shattered as Eman's body slid across it, breaking the cement ground and leaving a long trench while Flandre kept her grip on him. A quick kick to her abdomen sent her flying upwards to the high ceiling, leaving cracks and she was quickly sent back to the ground with a foot to her head in her free-fall.

Her face shattering upon impact, leaving a bloody splatter on the ground, Eman quickly went around her back, pressed one foot on her back and grabbed her head with both hands, gripping around the upper jaw to rip her head in half. Flandre quickly recovered from the pain and bit down on his fingers, breaking the bones but not severing them thanks to the supernatural endurance of the demon. Eman felt no pain and instead placed one grip on the lower jaw, opting to spread her mouth wide open instead and pull the entire jaw out. His fingers bled, some even going through Flandre's throat and instantly revitalizing her as the still-stable holy properties took effect.

She grabbed both his hands, separated them from her mouth and threw him forward against the wall, surface cracking, collapsing on him, and the earth behind it buried him. A small section of the pile exploded outwards in a cloud of dirt and dust, the man breaking the floors in his sprint and slamming his fist against Flandre's jaw and slamming her against the wall, ending up in the same fate of being buried under masonry and earth. Unlike his own, the entire pile exploded spectacularly and the debris became ash as soon as they touched the air. The ash soon disappeared into nothing, leaving no trace of their existence.

Heaving in breath, the primal form of Flandre was unblemished from the dirt, only injured and her wounds were already closing. Rising to her feet, the right leg joint readjusting in a loud crack, she charged exactly at the same time as Eman rushed forward. Their collision was powerful enough to create a shockwave, break several bones, rapture organs, and spew blood out of the mouth.

Eman tore Flandre's arm right out of the socket, destroying the entire bicep by smashing it into her face and stabbing into her neck with the bone fractures that stuck out from the cross-section. She gritted her teeth as he gripped her hair and slid the makeshift stabbing weapon across, slitting her throat and spilling out dangerous amounts of blood before she slammed her free hand against his side, breaking a few ribs and sending him flying off her.

Her vision blurred from the lost blood but she held on to her consciousness and willed her slit throat to regenerate. She rejected regrowing her arm, it would just exhaust her even further and she would have no chance of beating him.

Eman stood up shakily, his Vessel's body was starting to deteriorate, too fragile for his liking. Hacking out a spittle of blood, he subjected a servant from one of his legions and ordered it to mend the internal wounds. Only one, anymore and they will take the chance to claim ownership over the body. As loyal as they are to him, they are proud beings and they hold their Pride above all else, even him, hoping to have a name for themselves in every opportunity.

Growling and coughing violently a few more times on the ground, spatting out more blood, he rose up to his feet as the lungs were fixed back, allowing him to breathe without drowning the Vessel in his own blood. The bones now healed, he casted the self-healing fires on his body, cauterizing the wounds, vaporizing the blood off, and leaving scars.

Turning eyes back to Flandre, he tensed his legs—

The ground before him exploded into ash, and the ash that flew disappeared entirely. Frozen in his pre-sprint position, he sneered. Flandre had her fist held out at him, as if crushing. "Stop. This." She growled, her shoulders rising up and down in her tired state. "If you don't want to go 'kyuu', you—"

He bolted straight to her face, and broke the entire front of her skull with a knee. As she was sent flying and him landing flat on his feet thanks to transferring all his momentum to his opponent, he bolted again, catching her ankle as she tumbled. Flandre's face met the ground, hard, this time shattering the spine on her neck and splattering more blood to the floors as well as a few fragments. His grip shattering the bones of her ankle, he spun like a pinwheel, shattering her leg joint before letting go, sending her towards the wall. Her impact against it is the best description of SPLAT. The smudge of blood is much more prominent, and she even slid downwards like plastered pie, leaving a trail of blood.

Relishing the cold chill that ran through the Vessel's spine, he stomped up close to her corpse, grabbing for her hair—

She exploded to a swarm of bats, bursting from her form and towards him, lifting him high in the air in a vicious cluster of teeth and claw. The swarm formed a single cloud of black and leather with him inside, continuously scratched and bitten, they were draining him. The shrilled chirps of every individual bat destroyed his ear drums, confusing him, disorientating him, it was driving his Vessel MAD.

The Unclean Spirit smirked.

The Vessel's body exhumed fire and heat, flamethrowers spewing out of his hands and feet like a dragon's breath of fire and his body immolated with red fires, incinerating every flying rat into a burning husk. As the surviving swarm dispersed from the intense heat, the Vessel's scarred body quickly fell to a free-fall before flipping and landing on all fours like a cat, leaving a small crack on the ground. He eyed the swarm that flew above him like a thundercloud preparing to strike, glaring back at every red eye that stared balefully at him.

Infusing fire into the Vessel's lungs, he blew out an inferno at them. The swarm scattered in all directions. From the side, they formed together and charged at him like a practical battering ram. From the opposite side, a separate swarm did the same action, charging towards him with the frontal group shaping like a fist. He pointed both hands on either side of him and let out gigantic infernos on each, incinerating every marsupial by the thousands in each second, impeding the assault.

Several other swarms began to form up, charging from separate directions. Moving from his spot, he aimed at the incoming assault accordingly. Lighting the Vessel to self-immolation, he ran and burned everything that came his way. The swarm, however, were not waning in numbers, they seemed to be increasing. He even witnessed them multiplying from a single bat, increasing the numbers by 5. Turning into 125, then 625, becoming 3125. The numbers grew, and the entire library is loaded to the brim with all of Flandre's being, all sources of light reduced to nothing with him as the final survivor in the midst of leathery darkness.

He tried to release all the fires and burn the entire library once again but the bats were practically one being. They were just too many of them. Surrounded, it was like trying to burn an impenetrable dome of leather and flesh from the inside. He was completely cornered, the chirps were everywhere. It was chaos all around him.

With bitter resolve, he cut off the fires.

And he was devoured.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

His vessel was losing a lot of blood, and he's barely holding up from falling into drowsiness. Quickly covering the stump with his remaining right arm, he casted fire into the cross section and cauterized it, clotting the blood and halting the bleeding. Quickly casting the healing flames over his body, the bites and scratches quickly turned into scars. The lost blood didn't come back though, and forcefully infusing some from the heart will not help, the overexertion will only terminate the Vessel.

A sucking sound fell to his ears.

He growled lowly and deeply, slowly raising his head up to glare at the enemy: Flandre, back to her original body, walked closer to him without breaking eye contact as she drained from the dismembered arm of his Vessel. Holy Blood spilled from her mouth, rolling down to her chin and dripping to her collarbone, continually trailing downwards to her bare lower body.

He backed away.

His remaining hand behind him, he kicked his legs as much as he could to make as much distance as possible from the fully revitalized and fully regenerated vampire. He gritted his teeth, angered at the turn of events. His blackened eyes remained furrowed and stubbornly steadfast, not showing any fear to the vampire. He stumbled more than a few times, his one hand doing him no favors.

She stopped walking.

He likewise stopped moving.

She threw away the arm like a meatless drumstick and held a grabbing hand towards him.

He stiffened and held his breath, feeling the core of existence of the Vessel fall into the vampire's outstretched hand.

"You're defeated," She remarked coldly, a mature intonation lining her voice. Her childlike body betrayed her very disposition, she was the apex predator and he became the maimed prey. She was no longer that unstable little girl anymore, "You lost. There is no point in running."

He growled defiantly.

"Do not even try anything." She cut off his nonverbal retort, her icy and stern gaze boring deep into his soul. "Eman-san's blood has brought me rejuvenation, and you have lost an arm on that body. Your chances of repeating this farce and winning is close to none. I highly suggest you give up and give Eman-san back to me."

He gritted his teeth, shaking out of pure rage.

"You're so defiant, even to the end and I find that admirable." Her words remained icy as she said such things. "But I don't take kindly to anybody touching my friends." There was pressure on the Vessel's existential core, and his being. It hurts! "You will release Eman-san and give him back to me, NOW!"

She began to close her fist, slowly.

And then Agony.

Nothing but pure agony violated his senses alongside the Vessel's. She had his soul inside the vampire's hand, 75% of it and the remaining belonged to the body. She was targeting him. How was this possible!? She could never reach into the soul's existential core before! She was never this adept to the utility of her ability the first time the Vessel met her! HOW!?

"LEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAVE!‼"

[AaAgGhAaAgHaAaAaAaAaAaAaAaAaAaAaAaAGhH—]

A deafening snap of bone, and Eman slumped upright on his knees, his head ducked low to his chin with his bangs hiding his eyes.

There was silence. For so long after the conflict had begun, everything was now quiet.

Not Eman's heart though, Flandre could still hear it: loud, frantic, and stressed. That was not a neck bone snap, he could still hear him breathing through his mouth at the smallest intakes. She dared not to come close.

….….

….….….

His head moved.

She held her breath, being very still that not even her wings or the crystals in them moved.

His head moved in the slowest motion, turning to the side, then raising straight up. She saw the same blasted darkened eye—

She internally gasped: the other one was covered by his hair but she could clearly see the white sclera underneath.

"Eman-san?"

He slowly turned to face her, everything else in his anatomy unmoving except for his head and his hair. His expression was impossible to read; he looked hurt but unhurt, he looked confused but enlightened, he looked mad but calm. There was nothing Flandre could compare it to.

"Is that you?" She asked softly, her voice returning to its childish octave.

His head tilted to the side, his fringes falling to gravity—exposing his crying human left eye.

A relieved smile crossed her face, her tension leaving her. "Thank God. You're back." She then noted the still-blackened right eye. "Maybe not all of you but we can fix that. Now come on."

He simply stared at her outstretched hand.

"It's okay. I won't do anything." She reassured, even making her hand look so fragile and unassuming, hiding her sharp fingernails. "You don't have to worry. We'll fix you up. Demon won't touch you anymore."

His head turned to the left slightly, as if careful not to break his neck, and his eye turned to his amputated left hand.

Guilt quickly began to overtake her gut, coiling knots and easily killing every hope she has in being his friend anymore. "I know. I'm sorry. I know, but I had to. It's the only way I could think of to make the demon stop."

He turned back to her.

"I know you'll never forgive me…" An image of Marisa's corpse came to her mind. Yes, she will never be forgiven. She's doomed to be locked in that basement, maybe forever. She deserves it. There are no justifications. She's guilty. She's guilty. "…after what I did, I know that I deserve no such thing as forgiveness." Her voice was beginning to crack, her blood red tears leaking out and blurring her vision. "Marisa-nee…..Reimu-san's going to be mad, and she'll punish…m-me for it….I know. I deserve it, I know. Onee-sama will never love me again. Everybody else will…." She wiped her eyes with her hands, the tears seeming to not stop. "…I know you already hate me…I-I understand…."

Her sobs were easily coming in, her cries filling over the silence of the library. Eman did not move an inch as he stared at her weep her heart out.

"But please…" Her voice is now a pathetic blubber now, almost indecipherable. "At least….let me do this one last thing…..by….he-helping you…" She begged pitifully, the desperation incredibly clear in her very being, "…I think that's what Marisa-nee would want…."

She reached out to him, her bloody tear-stained hand outstretched to him, practically begging for him to take it.

Eman raised his stare from her hand up to her face, staring right into her eyes. As a vampire, she never knew she'd be at the mercy of anybody…but that was just a childish blunder, she was a kid at the time. She didn't know any better before, now she knows, and she's living every moment of it in full-force by being under the mercy of the one of the fewest friends she ever managed to make and ended up betraying thanks to her uncontrollable urge to feed on his blood. She pursed his lips, additional tears welling up in her eyes even more.

His hand twitched, then it shook at his side, as if hesitating, then it slowly but surely raised itself up and reached for her hand. Trembling, likely broken-boned, he opened his hand for her to grab onto.

With a smile, she stepped up close and held it. She'll do everything she could. He wants comfort, she'll give it. He's hungry, she'll raid the kitchen for every candy she could find. He's thirsty, she will make a juice drink herself and give it to him. He cries, she'll do whatever thing she could think of to cheer him up again, even if it's hopeless to do so. Just this one time, she'll do her—

….

…..

She's not moving.

Her body's not moving, as if locked in place. What was going—

She was suddenly sent from the floor and up above the ground, her trachea shattered and her windpipe crushed.

Eman was standing in front of her, his hand around her throat—both his eyes had returned to the same possessed and empty void as before. For the first time since his rage, he began to speak, and this time it wasn't just one voice.

"dId YoU rEaLlY eXpEcT hIm To SiMpLy LeT iT aLl Go!? DiD yOu AcTuAlLy ThInK hE wOuLd EvEn LoOk PaSt WhAt YoU dOnE!?" His voices were all guttural, demonic, and deep. There was not the slightest frequency of Eman's own voice amidst the crowd that spoke through his mouth. "dId YoU rEaLlY tHiNk YoU'd Be LeT oFf ThAt EaSy!?"

She did nothing to resist. Something was making her freeze up and be limp, helpless in his grasp. She could only widen her eyes and hang on to every word the Legion was saying.

"YoU kIlLeD hIs FrIeNd! yOu KiLlEd ThAt WiTcH! aNd He WaNtEd NoThInG mOrE tHaN tO kIlL yOu FoR wHaT yOu DiD!" Every accusation was a bullet to the gut, and it hurt bad. Her own despair ruled out her every thought than anything else the more they said anything. "hE lEt Us In! He AsKeD fOr OuR hElP! He WiShEd FoR yOuR dEaTh, We WiLl GiVe It To HiM bY kIlLiNg YoU! FoR wHaT yOu HaD dOnE, yOu DeSeRvE hElL fOr WhAt YoU dId To HiM!"

Her own tears were not locked from moving, and they came out like a broken dam. Now she wished for nothing but for her own death. For everything she has done, the Legion was right. She deserved to die. In her final breath, she wanted to apologize for everything she had done. To the friend she had done wrong, she wanted nothing more than to say 'sorry' before she receives her punishment.

"sOrRy Is PoInTlEsS, sCaRlEt!" He told as if he had read her mind. "YoUr PrEcIoUs EmAn Is GoNe! He HaS sUbMiTtEd To Us! HiS sOuL iS gOnE fOr GoOd! OuRs fOr ThE tAkInG! OnCe We SaTiSfY hIs ThIrSt FoR vEnGeAnCe By KiLlInG yOu, We WiLl FiNaLlY uSuRp YaHwEh'S cLaIm OvEr HiS sOuL!"

Flandre saw it. Flandre saw it.

From the stump of his left arm, there was….something there. It wasn't physically there, she doesn't even see it there at all. But she got an impression of it in her mind and she doesn't know how she got it when she was looking at the air.

It was red, the most indescribable shade of red, a red she never saw before and likely a red that has never existed in the realm of man. It looked slender but bulky, it was sleek but rough in texture—she wasn't sure how many joints it had. She wasn't sure if it even had joints at all. It was an appendage, coming out of his stump, reaching forward to her being. Grabbing her, binding her, seizing her, violating her all at once.

Flandre saw her own nightmares come to being just by looking at it. She could feel her own mind breaking itself apart just by simply comprehending the image of that….thing in her head.

She wanted to run but that thing held her in places that weren't possible in the vocabulary of man to describe. She was more afraid than anything. Her guilt, her shame, all that didn't matter anymore. She needed to get out of here.

"LiKe WhAt YoU sEe?" They asked, mocking tones resonating each one. It did nothing more than horrify her even more. She never realized they were this terrifying before. It drove her desire to run even mad but her fear won out and paralyzed her, even if she was held in place by that thing. "DoN't YoU wOrRy AbOuT aNyThInG, yOu WiLl Be SeEiNg MoRe Of Us SoOn EnOuGh."

The floors began to crack beneath his feet, and this time they had something shiny through the tiny gaps. It seemed as if there was lava underneath. Flandre's eyes widened at the implications. The Legion noticed her reaction and smiled sardonically. When the cracks got wide at a certain width, fiery appendages shot out of them and felt for the air before positioning to rearing back and assaulting her with their feelers, ready to drag her to the oblivion beneath them.

They hefted her higher into the air, and the tentacles reacted in delight at the sight of prey in front of them. "To HeLl WiTh YoU, fLaNdRe ScA—"

«Chi Sign—Earth Dragon Sky Dragon Kick»

A green blur crashed into Eman, a foot slamming itself on the side of his head, and she was gratefully released from the thing's grip and Eman's hand, landing on the floors with a thud. She looked to her savior and saw Meiling standing high and mighty in the Legion's place, attention fully planted on him.

A sense of security rolled all over her and she quickly wrapped her arms around her waist, "Meiling! Thank goodness you're here!"

She felt a hand ruffle gently on her head. "I know, Ms. Flan." She curtly responded, "Forgive me for saying this but I don't want you here."

She removed her face from her dress and looked up with wide eyes, "What?"

"I can't fight him while worrying about you at the same time." She quickly responded, and Flandre could feel her qi emanating all over her being in preparation.

She looked back at Eman, who was already starting to rise up, a loud crack resonating from his jaw as he put it back into place.

"But—"

"No buts, Ms. Flan!" Meiling shouted and Flandre could not stop herself from reeling backwards in shock. She never raised her voice like this, never. "Get out of here, Ms. Flan! Please! NOW!"

Flandre could only stare in shock for a few more seconds before bitterly turning around and flying for the entrance as fast as she could, destroying the burning pile of debris that was in the way with her powers and purposely crashed into the hallway headfirst, tumbling over many places on her body that hurt, especially her wings, hoping to die before the momentum was gone.

She didn't. She was still alive. It only added more pain to the most miserable moment of her life.

Crying, she crawled to the nearest wall, laid her back against it, held her knees close to herself and cried to them. Her ears caught the sound of conflict, floors breaking and fires whooshing to life in the library. She heard the squabbles of the goblins around her, concerned about her 'immodesty'. Pathetic, as if modesty is the thing she should be worrying about right now.

She gave no such thing as 'attention' to the world, lost in her own despair, even as she felt clothes suddenly appear in her being, hiding her shame once again. Everything seemed to be falling apart around her, each event worse than the last and affecting her in ways that hurt more than they should. She went out of line, antagonized Eman, ruined all her chances of making friends by killing Marisa, failed to bring Eman back, and Meiling yelled at her.

Why do this things happen to me?

She's done, she's done for. She's going to be punished for this, she knows it's coming. Her demise, her deserving end. She always questioned why her sister would always keep her in the basement, even at the times she knows she was getting better, starting to get better in being good. She thought she could get better and show to her sister that she's capable of dealing with herself and be left alone by herself, hoping it could give her even the slimmest chance of being outside her mansion walls.

Now she knows.

She doesn't have the capacity to keep her friends alive. She has no capability of keeping them at arm's length. She has no affinity in keeping them safe from bad things, she'll only endanger them just by being there. She was just a monster that doesn't deserve any friends. Maybe that's why her sister kept her down there all these years, so she could prevent her from making these mistakes. All that talk of getting better and being good…..such bluster.

She'll never change. She's just a vampire with no capacity of controlling herself, unlike her big sister.

The storm outside still continued to roar, but she could tell just by hearing that the intensity has lessened. It was light enough that the noises of the conflict in the library overshadowed it. She could hear the Legion's roaring and mockery, she could hear Meiling's grunts and exertions, she could still hear bone and flesh smashing against the other, she could even hear blood splatters.

Her grip on her knees tightened when she heard Meiling scream. Whatever the Legion did, they laughed and gloated over what they did.

"Flan?"

The Legion's roaring had begun to overtake the entire conflict, screaming obscenities with their thousand guttural voices. The sheer number of them nearly made every word incomprehensible. They must be striking a blow amidst their rant, she could still hear some sort of impact in the middle of the roars—

"Hey, Flan."

She gritted her teeth. What was happening to her? She kept hearing someone calling her by her nickname. She recognized the voice, and it belonged to nobody other than Marisa. She's dead, how could she start hearing her now? She could even smell the mushrooms and fungi that belonged nobody but her. Was she haunting her? Was she cursing her?

"Flan. Come on!"

There it is again! She's got to be cursing her! Cursing her for killing her! She got nothing to say. She's guilty. She knows it. She deserves this. She deserves—

"Flan! Get a hold of yerself! HEY!"

She didn't notice that someone was shaking her violently by the shoulders, and it had been doing so for the last few seconds.

She raised her eyes out of her knees, looking over everywhere, the hallway, the goblins that stared either at her or the direction of the library, her form that was suddenly clothed without her noticing, Marisa's worried face staring at her—

"Marisa-nee!?" She gaped. The childlike face, the fiery blue eyes, the baby nose, the braid on the left side of her head, her soft-looking wavy blonde hair, and the smell of mushrooms. Everything that was Marisa is right in front of her.

"Oh thank fucking god!" Marisa cried out in relief, wrapping arms around her neck and squeezing hard, hard enough to choke out a human. "I was so worried! I thought ya lost yer mind! I was gunna cry that yer never gunna be the Flan I knew-ze!"

Flandre still couldn't believe her eyes. Marisa, alive and well, was hugging her, saying she was worried about her. Was this an illusion? Was somebody being pitiful and relieving her of her guilt and torment? Did somebody—

"Flan?" Marisa released her, drawing back and cupping both her cheeks, concern crossing her face once again. "Somethin' wrong, kiddo?"

Flandre's gaze drew downwards, down to her left waist, where she had struck her: there was a hole in her dress, a large shred showing her pale skin. In the surface of that pale skin was a scar, an ugly blemish on the perfect surface of beautiful feminine skin. It was three times the size of her fist….and it was shaped like a heart.

She reached for it timidly, as if she was putting her hand in a viper's nest. Marisa didn't protest as her fingers brushed the surface of her healed flesh, tracing the edges and feeling it for the sake of verification.

Marisa giggled.

"Look what ya did, Flan." She chided with a warm smile, tapping her scar. "Yer quite the artist, ever painted before?"

Flandre's tears came again and she didn't stop herself from throwing herself forward to embrace the Ordinary Magician, Kirisame Marisa.

"Wha? What are—"

"I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY!"

"No, no. It's fine!" She felt Marisa's tiny hand patting the back of her head gently, "It's okay. Everything's alright, no need to worry."

"I killed you! I nearly killed you! I nearly killed you, Marisa-nee! I'm sorry!"

"Hey." Marisa's voice remained even and sincere, squeezing her back tightly and warmly. "Ev'rybody I met tried to do the same thing everyday. I never hold it against anybody for it so don'tcha worry 'bout a thing, okay? Though…" Her tone then shifted, something like uncertainty, "…yer pretty much the first person to ever put me near the Yama's doorstep so uh, hehe…..congrats, Flan. You nearly got the Ordinary Magician killed. I fought the strongest Youkai, gods, moon folks, but they never got close inta killing me at all. Ya should be proud, okay?"

Flandre only continued to cry on her shoulder. As if she could be proud of such a thing.

She heard a sigh, "Stop cryin', Flan. Gensokyo ain't gunna see the last of the Ordinary Magician yet, so stop the waterworks. Marisa-nee ain't goin' nowhere." She felt a light peck on her temple before another tight squeeze, the hand on her head stroking her locks. "I'm here."

She weakly nodded on her shoulder, sniffling.

"C'mon." Marisa suddenly said, her voice now stern as she parted the hug and rose to her feet. Flandre noticed that she was not putting weight on her left leg. "We gotta get there and shut that bastard up. I could hear him all the way here."

Eman came immediately to her mind and what she's supposed to do is already clear.

She nodded vigorously, "Yeah. We gotta, Meiling's going to die if we don't hurry."

Jergo quickly came up to them with a broom—Marisa's broom held up above him and threw it to the owner. Marisa quickly caught it and slammed the blunt point to the ground, putting her weight on it. "Sorry, still hurts here." She chuckled, gesturing to her scar. "Ya go ahead, kid. I'll catch up. Make sure ya tell him I'm alive. Eman's just raising hell thinkin' I'm a goner. Hurry!"

Flandre nodded quickly and took to the air, her courage filling her heart by tenfold. The goblins quickly made way for her, understanding what she's going to do. Passing through the doorway and into the library, she witnessed the Legion and Meiling still going at each other. The latter had missing a right arm, but she was still combat-effective as she landed a bicycle kick to the former's chin, sending him staggering backwards.

The fiery tentacles were still present, Flandre saw three still raised in the air aiming for a target and quickly lashing out, whipping Meiling across the abdomen and sending her flying into the distance.

Flandre quickly held out her hands, grabbing the eyes of two tentacles and quickly crushing them. The appendages quickly burned out of existence and the last tentacle noticed her, quickly extending and piercing the air towards her. She flew out of its trajectory, grabbing its eye at the stem and quickly crushing it.

The Legion looked at her balefully before he let the ground burn and crack open.

"No!" Flandre will not have it: she quickly crushed the eye of the floor beneath him and it exploded in fire and ash, sending him head over heels in the air screaming in their million voices. She quickly darted towards him, slamming into his form and sending him to the ground in a loud thud, pinning his hands to the ground by the wrists and straddling him. "Eman, wake up! Marisa's alive! Marisa's alive! She's in the hallway! She got a scar but she's okay!"

A knee slammed itself to her back, the force powerful enough to throw her off him. Quickly coming back to her feet, she watched as Eman, on his hand and knees like a beast, lit his entire body on red fires, smoke and ash coming out of them as the heat increased immensely around her, he growled—

A colorful laser turned the ground before him into cinders, breaking the momentum of his pounce.

Flandre finally saw the Legion's eyes get wide in shock, horror, and realization.

"Didn'tcha hear!? I'm still alive! Enough with the temper tantrum already-ze!"

The Legion's primal expression finally shifted, destroying every impression of their infernal origin and bringing back the human visage that rightfully belonged to the man named Eman. Flandre saw his blackened eyes starting to lighten as he gaped at the sight that sat on a broom, holding her side, and pointing a smoking octagonal super weapon at him. A sight that Eman certainly knew too well.

[Mari—]

"HIYAAAAA!"

A powerful tornado kick slammed into his temple and his head smashed against the ground with a severe thud, spilling out blood from the opened wound.

The two blondes stared in shock at what the one-armed gatekeeper just did.

Meiling, however, acknowledged none of it. All she ever acknowledged was that the enemy was unconscious. She asked, "Has anyone seen my arm?"

"WHAT ON EARTH HAPPENED HERE!?" The familiar weak and asthmatic voice screamed from the doorway. The trio turned and witnessed the arrival of the Great Unmoving Library inside her absolutely-decimated Great Library in full glory.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

Queen breathed a big sigh of relief, her hands clutched to her heart gratefully.

King and Yukari shared a glance, having a silent prompt before the former turned to the ceiling, seeing through the masonry, the phantasmal coating of Yukari's realm, and into the skies, commanding the army to call off the attack. Their task was done, and they deserve rest for their efforts.

Yukari did her finishing touches: reaching into the fabric of Gensokyo's time and removing the knot that held it still from locomotion.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

The clock tower of the House of the Devil finally tolled the arrival of the first hour of the morning. The storms calming and leaving, leaving only a light drizzle to fall on the land, having just a few minutes before the dark skies depart entirely and let the moon shine once again.

Sakuya and Remilia quickly arrived at their abode's doorstep the sooner it was gone and rushed to wherever Flandre was.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

Yukari smiled warmly at the scene on the gap before her. The librarian, vampire and the witch quickly got into motion of administering first-aid to the man, magical or otherwise. The poor boy's entire body was close to deterioration: collapsed lung, broken bones, internal bleeding from damaged organs, major loss of blood, and a possession of more than a million Unclean Spirits. He was very close to death at this point.

Simply waving her hand downwards, a gap appeared before the group, certainly surprising all of them before Marisa jumped through, arriving at Eintei's courtyard before jumping back, telling everybody to bring him in to the Great Doctor's care.

"Good work, Eman. You did the first part of your job perfectly." She praised, rising to her feet from the love seat. "Good night, and get well soon. There is more of you that Gensokyo needs, and I need you strong for the next adversity. You will be needing more than your faith to help you live through it," She walked forward, the gap closing before she could collide against it and headed for the yard, where Dispatcher was, either finished with the Spell Card or just lazing like a real cat. "Much more."

The evening goes by, and just another night in Gensokyo passes into history.