He rose before the crack of dawn.

The Penitent never considered the passage of time in a grander scheme of things – but if one were to sleep, one should not dally in bed, no matter how comfortable it was. When did he even sleep in a bed to begin with? When did he sleep?

Was it the lack of the Miracle in this strange land? Now that his purpose and his goal was lost, so were those subtle powers that he did not give a second thought to, and which let him continue on without any issue? Not even death could keep him; stubbornly the High Wills would bring him back at their shrines, accompanied by the angelic chorus. He had no need for sustenance nor rest, as unfeeling and firm as the visage on his helmet.

Here, it was winter. The sun would take some time to rise from behind the horizon it used for a blanket.

…it seemed another of the Miracle's blessings was the ability to see in the dark and navigate through the blackest of caves and the most abandoned of ruins. An ability he was sorely missing already. Still, he suffered his banged-up knee in silence, feeling out the way downstairs and towards the kitchen to seek some water. The faucet of steel was said to not run out of drinkable liquid, and were he a less principled man, he would no doubt want to see how true that was.

As it was, a glass was more than sufficient—

The Penitent swerved, grasping a butter knife someone left here earlier, and meeting the unknown party prowling in the darkness. "...I'm not sure who got spooked worse here." A visage of Kuroiro emerged from the wall, shortly followed by the rest of his ivory-topped head. The ink-black personage remained suspended in the wall, as if the spirit of the abode itself was malicious and seeking ill upon the unwary.

This particular spirit demonstratively unwrapped a protein bar and took a bite. "Don't worry, it's just my Quirk. Shiozaki has her hair, and I can do this." And then he was gone, together with the filling confectionery – only to reappear on the other end of the kitchen. The Penitent stared for a bit longer before he chose to put the butter knife away. "It's just some training I do. Good for pranking people in the dorms, among other things."

The Penitent stared. "Well, don't mind me. We'll have to decide what to do with you yet, at least while we're here."

A number of options was offered over the breakfast.

Pony invited him to join her and Manga on attending a convention. If he had to guess, it had little to do with an actual convent. Shishida pointed out that this might be too much excitement for someone who only just arrived here. The Penitent felt an ache in his heart, watching the horned girl's enthusiasm deflate with such pomp.

Sen suggested that he joins him and Ibara on their photograph hunt, capturing haunting landscapes in his artifact to appraise later. That sounded like a tempting proposition, to venture through frigid vistas without having to fight for his life or witnessing the cruelty of the Miracle – but it would require a proper set of equipment; something he could not easily procure. Clothes for the wintry weather were easy enough to get, but the assortment of items for trekking through the woods… less so.

Eventually, it was agreed that they will take a trek around the city rather than the wilderness. There was a risk of sensory overload, but it seemed they were trusting him to maintain his wits about him, the same way he was able to when he first got into the train and saw this brand new world with his own eyes. To that end, Reiko and Jurota would be the ones accompanying him on that trip. A venture unexciting for them, no doubt, but a whole new world for the Penitent.

And, so far, he was happy to see the world at a slower pace.

As they walked the moderately busy boulevard, he was familiarizing himself both with the vistas all around him – so different from the baroque splendor of churches and savage wilderness so characteristic of Cvstodia – and a number of phrases in this world's strange alphabet. Three alphabets, no less; and the third one, apparently, not even the locals knew that well sometimes.

Still, a few of these were easy enough to remember, at least; a branch protruding from the waves was a letter "n", the inverted T meant "mountain", and so on, and so forth. There didn't seem to be much sense in it – but then again, did alphabets make sense? Did numbers? Someone once decided that these symbols will represent these sounds and these values – and most have sworn by them since.

What a strange thing to ponder.

Shishida was more verbose out of the two of his guides, showing him around the premises. This was a store, for one; a place to purchase goods. Here was a "laundromat", where one could wash their clothes in spinning machinery. That over there was a "pachinko parlor"; a gambling den of sorts. So many places and people that would be dismantled and smote as out of line with the theocracy's divine decree… plenty of such bones lie scattered about in Cvstodia.

The people, in particular. Supposedly, all of them were ordinary humans, even though so many of them had features that were anything but ordinary. Among their group, Kamakiri was more akin to a mantis, and whatever was the cloud that made up Fukidashi's head, the Penitent still could not figure out. Extra limbs, horns, ears, wings, strangely shaped bodies…

And the costumed personages too attracted attention. He regarded the advertisements, both still and moving, of any size and shape. The woman in the purple costume and horns reared out again, with a bottle of hair conditioner. A heroine, that one, with a moniker "Mount Lady", and the ability to change her size from "normal human" to "a cathedral". Suddenly, Ibara's thorny hair or Kuroiro's ability to meld into the darkness felt quite inconsequential.

It seemed the makers of the advertisement were determined to depict her "in action", in the full gargantuan size she could take; the billboard sprawled across the entire wall of the tall spire called a "skyscraper".

"Hopefully this isn't too dull of a trip to you, Peniten-san." Shishida apologized sheepishly as the three of them walked the busy streets. Some of those costumed figures roamed the streets, attracting looks and fans alike. At the same time, this colorful presence dissuaded the evil at hand from rearing out. Such was the theory, at least. The Penitent, for his part, was happy to follow along and nod to their words as they walked. Reiko's hands attracted some stares too, the way she held them forward like the walking dead.

But then again, this was just a small oddity compared to everything else in this new world.

As it turned out, the trip would have a goal beyond familiarizing the Penitent with the city; the so-called "groceries". "Grandmother requested that we secure a few things in preparation for the coming dinners." He explained, gesturing to the piece of paper in his hand. Yanagi had another one in hers, no longer doing her best impression of a cursed cadaver in motion. "Luckily for us, the stores we need to visit are right by each other."

"Mind you, these are both bound to be quite crowded." Reiko nodded along, gesturing forward. Two storefronts, each within the view of another. The names – drawn across in those local symbols – he could not hope to decipher. "If it would please you, you do not have to enter." It did, even if it felt somewhat embarrassing to admit. If they had the time to spare, then perhaps it was better to take things at a slower pace.

"It shouldn't be an issue. The stores are close to each other, and it is still the middle of the street. There is even that bench there." Shishida pointed towards the lacquered wonder nestled in an alcove between the buildings. What a quaint little thing; perfect for those who need a temporary reprieve from the city without forgetting they were still in it. Or, perhaps, the Penitent was overthinking it again.

And so, he ended up on the bench. That too was fine; he could take in the ambiance of the city, its strange inhabitants and its stranger culture. This was the world he ended up in, with no prospects – and possibly no desire; he had no certainty of that yet – for returning home. His armor and Mea Culpa both remained stashed in the mansion of the Shishida matriarch; his powers seemed to be waning, as already demonstrated by his little adventure in the early morning.

Perhaps he was repeating himself, but it was something so fundamentally different to what he knew, it felt like the kind of defense mechanism to engage in.

"Onii-san, help!" His reverie was interrupted by a youth approaching him in a hurry, looking positively distressed. The Penitent blinked, eyes briefly wandering through the crowd. No one seemed to think anything of it; most passed them a glance at best. Precious few seemed to care about the youngling's predicament. But then, why did the boy approach him out of all people?

The youth took a moment to gather his bearings, gasping for air. The Penitent did not rush him; frankly, he still had to figure out the specifics of this meeting. "Please… I need… can't find any hero, a-and…" Another gasp, almost like a choked sob. "Please… you're the only one who can help me, onii-san…"

The Penitent begged to differ; he was not the hero here. Why, two of them were expected to make a return any minute now. Yet, the boy seemed to take his skeptic confusion for approval, tugging on the man's arm. "Please! We can't waste time!" Somehow, the boy had enough strength to tug him along through the crowd. The Penitent grunted, finally deciding to accompany him as he cast one last look towards the bench. Hopefully they would not be long here with the boy.

The last thing he wanted was to make his benefactors worry.

This brief venture was becoming increasingly more suspicious.

From what the boy could tell him in-between gasping for breath, his brother was trapped underneath some furnishing and could not escape on his own. The Penitent was sure of his physical strength, even without the power of the High Wills coursing through him, but was that really something the boy would call a random stranger upon for? A man that, for all he knew, might not have understood his language to begin with?

Perhaps such things just came for granted.

And yet, as they slalomed through increasingly darker and more narrow alleyways, something akin to worry came to the Penitent. Something was amiss. "It's right over there!" The boy said in-between his frayed breathing. The Penitent appraised the dark, abandoned shack they ended up in front of. What business would anyone have dwelling in such a place, hidden in the middle of the city? "W-we… we have to scrounge up f-for food…" The boy explained once The Penitent's scrutinizing gaze fell on him, fiddling with his hoodie. "We've heard there's… these shacks, t-they… um, they sometimes have something hidden here or there a-and…"

Well, as good of an explanation as any. The poor of the world – or worlds, in that case – must have had a lot in common; it was a shame that in a universe of modernity and hope like this there still were those who struggled to make ends meet. The Penitent assuaged the boy with a gesture and sighed to himself before training his eyes back on the shack. What would he give for his sword and armor right now…

Instead, he spied a length of iron pipe lying around. It would have to do for now. His new weapon seized, the Penitent slipped inside the dark shack. Not much in this place to begin with, he thought; barely walls and the lone shelf of steel; a man with a strange head – shaped like a spiky ball, or the head of a morning star – trapped underneath and struggling to escape.

"Onii-san!" The boy called from behind the Penitent; he must have been some distance away, perhaps too afraid to leave the light. "I brought help!"

"Oh thank goodness…" The spiky-head groaned, eyes squinting to look at his unlikely savior. The Penitent wasn't sure how much of him was seen in the darkness of the shack, but he made sure to offer a reassuring gesture of peace. The spiky-head finally had a good look at him as the man bent down to try and push the shelf off him. "Fresh meat."

Before The Penitent could react, a blow to the back of the head threw him onto the shelf – a surprisingly light article for something made of steel. The last thing he recalled before darkness took him was the boy – no, a man now, stretched out to weird proportions – holding an iron pipe of his own.

"...Shishida. Call everyone." Reiko was the first to pull herself out of their stupor, seeing the bench they left their unlikely acquaintance at completely deserted. Vice-Prez didn't have to be told twice, fumbling for his phone.

Ibara was going to strangle them.

Ha. I blink, and suddenly Blasphemous gets its final DLC with an unequivocal good end.

Oh well; for the purposes of this fic, it probably didn't happen. Speaking of fics I was able to scrounge up some will to put up another chapter - and I do have some ideas as to where I want to go with it. As you can see, the Penitent is in trouble - but those who abducted him might find out soon enough it was not an ordinary man they've kidnapped. In the meantime, the 1B kids will be trying their damnedest to find him; a little secretively, most likely, considering the troubles of the Penitent being here in this world.

Rambling aside, hopefully this is still an enjoyable read for you. Stay tuned for more down the line. c: