The great superweapon crumbled into shit and, with Six-Eyes, Satoru immediately figured out why. Hollow Technique: Purple, it seemed, with its unique method of bringing destruction, which was the total annihilation of anything and everything caught within its field, quite literally tore apart the insides of the weapon, breaking it apart and even compromising every single ritual circle, etched upon the rock. He honestly wasn't sure if anyone would be angry with him, however, considering the Aeldari admitted to the fact that they no longer made use of this weapon and that it was in a place in their Craftworld that they no longer visited, unless – apparently – the Britheim asked. Still, once was enough, Satoru figured. A thousand Hollow Technique: Purples should fuck up their fleet.
And, it did.
As he glanced up and focused, Satoru grinned. A single use of Hollow Technique: Purple would've maybe fucked up a single ship and that was if it even hit anything vital. A thousand? Well, a lot of them missed, unfortunately, but a lot of them also hit. And Satoru watched as dozens of vessels, each of them utterly gargantuan, lost entire chunks of their hulls. The really big ones, he noticed, were able to defend themselves with some kind of shield that absorbed some damage. The smaller ones, which were still really big, honestly, likely did not possess the same level of shielding and got turned into Swiss Cheese as thousands of Purple Masses tore through their fleet. Others, Satoru saw, were unlucky enough to be mostly erased from existence as the Purple Masses passed through them in great numbers, reduced to little more than floating debris.
That Purple barrage, Satoru mused, almost blunted the Imperial advance. A hundred ships came to attack them. And now, only sixty five of them remained – mostly the big ones. But, if there was anything he learned from watching World War 2 documentaries as a kid it was that tanks were powerful, but they weren't meant to function by themselves; they were meant to be supported by smaller, more mobile units so that their assault advanced unhindered. The same was true for large battleships in the ocean. No matter how large and how heavily-armed and armored a ship might be, it still required the assistance of smaller, lighter, and more maneuverable ships to actually be somewhat decent at what it was supposed to do. Otherwise, these really large machines of war ended up becoming large pincushions, attacked from every conceivable side, like a giant, surrounded by swarms of lesser enemies, or one really tall dude surrounded by hornets.
You could easily guess which side won in such scenarios.
By his estimation, the Purple Barrage had taken out more than half of their support ships. Now, the Aeldari were gonna have to deal with the big ships and their remaining escorts on their own, because he wasn't gonna be able to do much from down here. And he wasn't keen on taking the fight to the enemy, anyway.
So, the only thing left to do was to wait for these cyborg-robot dudes to start dropping their forces. A part of him still felt somewhat conflicted about defending aliens from humans, but these people worshiped him; they trusted him and they followed his word, because they thought that he was their messiah. And, honestly, even Satoru himself was kind of starting to believe the drivel that the masses spewed from their mouths, because that was definitely an image of him, white hair and all, in the Hall of the Seers, in the Prophecy of the Britheim. Satoru hated it, of course, but he also couldn't deny the fact that active worship was, in fact, a pathway to achieving a form of ultimate power. If enough of the Aeldari worshiped him as a god, then it was only a matter of time until he ascended into a form of godhood.
For now, however, he was stuck with pretty much nothing to do.
He glanced at the barren fields, the expanse of blackened rocks and ashes and wondered if he could absorb the souls there, boosting his Cursed Energy reserves sky high. After all, he wouldn't technically be eating souls or stealing them. What was on the ground were the faded imprints of former-souls and what remained of their energies. These "souls" weren't souls at all, but just Positive Cursed Energy that lingered, doing absolutely fuck all. After a moment, Satoru made his decision. The Aeldari wouldn't miss what they had no use for, right? After all, if they really wanted, they would have harnessed these soul leftovers for... anything, really. But they chose not to. So, Satoru was going to take it – all of it.
Because he was going to use it. If this broke their little belief that he was the Britheim, here to take them to paradise or some shit, then he'd break into the Shrine of Khaine, nab that shard, and get out of this place with Larkin and Tanya. If not, then he was cool with staying a little longer, learning more about their version of Jujutsu, their rituals and spells.
Satoru breathed in and smiled, before leaping away from the platform and landing right on the blackened ground. Immediately, he felt the Positive Cursed Energies right under his feet, asleep. "It's about time someone did this, I think. Otherwise, you'd all dissipate uselessly and I can't have that, unfortunately."
Satoru bent down and laid his hand on the ground. This wouldn't be like trying to take power from the Cursed Realm. He knew how to do that, in theory, but would likely need plenty of practical experience to successfully pull off. No, this was just taking already-existing energies from the physical plane. It was far easier in comparison, especially because what lay beneath him was essentially pure energy, easily integrated into his personage with but the tiniest bit of effort. And it would not, at all, take much effort on his part, honestly.
Absorbing all of this would increase his Cursed Energy reserves to exceed even that of Sukuna with nineteen fingers – maybe double the volume, in fact. It'd be a lot more of the energies weren't so washed out after thousands of years of dormancy and inactivity. But, honestly, it was a lot better than nothing. Because he wouldn't be able to absorb any of it if the contours and markers of the soul remained.
"Come to papa," Satoru grinned as he began gathering these energies into himself. And, like water into the drain, the Positive Cursed Energies converged about him, flooding into his body and filling up his Cursed Energy Reserves so quickly that the whole thing only took him about five minutes. Power coursed through him, like a raging river. Now, he could use Cursed Augmentation to strengthen himself to levels he'd never achieved before. He wasn't going to do that, because it'd be wasteful, but it was good to know that he could, if necessary.
"Oh, yeah, that feels amazing," He muttered to himself as he began stretching and shadow boxing. The ground, as well, begun taking on a more lively, healthier hue. The abundance of Cursed Energy, positive though it was, likely poisoned the land and prevented anything from growing on it. Now, however, living things can thrive here once again. And, maybe, given enough time, the Aeldari might return. But, that was for the future. For now, his immediate problem was the present.
Gathering Cursed Energy into his legs, further bolstered by Red, Satoru leapt towards the nearest city, covering hundreds of meters within a single leap, followed by another. It took him less than a minute to reach the nearest patch of civilization, but the city-streets, Satoru noted, were empty. The civilian populace must've retreated unto underground bunkers or something, which was smart. Satoru wandered the streets for a bit, until he reached his...err... palace. Until the invasion actually began or until Caoimhe called for him or whatever, then he'd just stay in and read a bunch of stuff of Aeldari Rituals and Spells. He couldn't join the Farseers at the War Council, because he really didn't know much about naval tactics and strategies and whatnot, and also because he didn't want to.
Satoru recognized the Swooping Crane Aspect Warriors standing by the entrance of his Palace. They bowed as he approached. There were ten of them here, Satoru noted, and all of them were in full Wargear – helmet and all. Even their weapons were dripped out to look like birds and stuff, which was really cool, even if their whole ensemble felt a little gaudy if Satoru was being honest. But, hey, who was he to judge them for their fashion choices? Were they waiting for him? If so, why? One of the warriors stepped forward and dropped to a single knee. "Lord Britheim."
"Hey guys," Satoru raised a brow.
"Farseer Caoimhe has predicted that a great host of our enemies will soon make landfall in the central square, punching through out defenses. They are here for the Vaults of Sacred Knowledge." The kneeling warrior explained. Caoimhe once mentioned the Vaults of Sacred Knowledge, in passing, which was apparently where they kept a bunch of their most valuable artifacts and cool advanced shit from Before the Fall. A lot of it was considered sacred – very important to the Aeldari. Satoru wasn't sure what the humans wanted with it. "We would be honored to fight at your side... if it is your will."
"Eh, what the heck," Satoru shrugged. He'd prefer to just read, but if the enemy was coming, then they were coming and he was honor bound to aid in the defense of the Craftworld, anyway. "Let's go, boys. We have a Craftworld to save."
Despite the helmets over their heads, the fervent happiness and awe that they radiated was almost palpable. Satoru smiled and shook his head. He knew where the central square was and how to get there. So, he turned and began walking. And the Aeldari warriors marched behind him. "Is it just the ten of you or are there more? Because, just eleven of us against a full invasion force seems like a bit of a stretch – no offense."
Actually, it'd be a lot easier if it was just him. That way, he could use Maximum: White, without having to worry about anyone else. If he was gonna fight with them, then Satoru would have to use his less destructive techniques or just stick to physical augmentation to avoid collateral damage. One of the warriors answered, "The others are already there, Lord Britheim, preparing."
Satoru nodded. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I seem to recall the fact that the Swooping Cranes prefer hit and run tactics. Won't this inhibit you guys by a lot?"
The Aeldari warrior nodded. "It will inhibit us, indeed, Lord Britheim. But, in the defense of our home, there is nothing we aren't prepared to do. And, also, not all of us will stand and fight; quite a few of our number will be performing hit and run tactics to snap at the enemy's flanks. They will not find an easy battle when they land."
Satoru nodded. "Alrighty. I think I'll stick with the guys who'll be standing by the breach. No offense to the hit and run people, but that's not really my thing. My techniques wouldn't work too well with such tactics, honestly. So, I'm better off engaging them directly, with either hand to hand or my Cursed Techniques."
As long as they've not yet reached the ground, he could technically swarm them with Blue Singularities, crushing them even before they reached the Aeldari. A lot of the Mechanicus would die, but most of their forces, as Caoimhe stated, were likely going to be in the form of machines.
"By your will, Lord Britheim," The warrior said.
They reached the central square and, there, Satoru saw all the weapon emplacements they placed atop the buildings, anti-air weapons, grav tanks, some spider-legged machines that Satoru didn't know the names of, and a bunch of tall, mechanized Cursed Corpses, which the Aeldar referred to as Wraithlords. Also known as his next pet project, because the method with which the Aeldari created Cursed Corpses with Wraithbone led him to believe that he, Gojo Satoru, could create them as well, but that would have to wait. Because as Satoru made his way to the front lines, the warriors bowing to him as he approached, he noted the tiny dots in the sky, surging straight towards the Craftworld, ablaze.
"Here they come."
AN: Chapter 33 is up on (Pat)reon!