When he was a kid, Satoru once heard someone say on a TV talk show, "Making your first million dollars is the hard part; after that, making your second million dollars is going to be much easier." Well, he wasn't sure about the money thing, since he was filthy rich from the Gojo Clan's treasury, accumulated over hundreds of years, which meant he could buy just about anything he wanted, the idea of it, however, stuck quite well. For instance, it took him a very long time to figure out how to generate Reverse Cursed Energy; in fact, he had to die before he could figure it out. But, when he did figure it out, creating it again and again and again became as easy as blinking.

The same was true for healing. Once he figured out how to heal the Farseer, healing the other Eldar Warriors, the ones he'd crunched with blue, became incredibly easy – damn near effortless on his part, honestly. So, fixing up their broken bones now came naturally. And, unlike the Farseer, mending the injuries of the others took him less than a minute. He even burned out the marks on their soul, using Hollow Technique: Purple, because he was a cool guy like that and also because he felt kind of bad about beating them all up half to death, just because he wanted to look fly as fuck falling from the ceiling and landing between them.

Obviously, if you suddenly ran towards the Japanese Prime Minister and his bodyguards then they'd obviously think you were an assassin or an assailant. The same was true, in this case. These warriors were just doing their job, protecting their Farseer from him, Gojo Satoru, the greatest menace in the history of the galaxy or whatever. And they were right to be afraid.

But, if he could go back, he'd do it again.

The Farseer was the first to rise, silently pushing herself up onto her feet. She didn't attack immediately, which was a very good sign. But she did keep quiet. Satoru expected a scream of outrage or... well... anything, really, but he hadn't expected silence. The Farseer just stood there, staring at him. He wondered what her face looked like. The shape of her soul indicated that she was mostly humanoid, but was that it? Was that all there was? It'd be very disappointing if this whole galaxy ended up like Star Trek, wherein every alien was just a different flavor of humanoid. But, eh, aliens were still aliens. He'd prefer to see a bunch of grays though, those big-eyed, lithe-bodied, gray-skinned, saucer-flying aliens he always saw on documentaries about the pyramids or some other shit the humans couldn't immediately explain or understand. Who built these giant triangles in the desert? Well, probably aliens.

And also probably not, because those guys were just straight up whack.

"Hello?" Satoru said, scratching the back of his head. Well, seeing an alien was cool and all, but her just standing there, menacingly, was starting to get a little creepy. He then walked up to her – she was tall as shit, by the way – and waved a hand across the visors – or, at least, what he assumed were the visors – of her cool helmet. "You okay there, bud?"

"What did you do?" The question stunned him. No, it wasn't the question itself that struck a chord within him. He'd expected that much, at least. What caught his attention was her tone, accompanied by a very clear sniffling as she asked. What the hell? Every hostile bone in her body just went and vanished into the goddamn void.

Shrugging, Satoru smiled. "Well, I'm glad you asked. I fixed you up real nice, after cracking your soul up – sorry about that, by the way. I didn't know you guys were vulnerable to True Negative Cursed Energy. Anyway, once I finished fixing your soul, I noticed a little... ugh... mark that looked out of place and was actively leeching energies from you. Didn't know what it was, so I burned it right off. Is that cool?"

"Y-you...y-y-you burned away the hold of She-Who-Thirsts from my soul?" Yep, she was definitely crying now. Oh, unless he was sorely mistaken, the Farseer was sobbing right in front of him and was making everything awkward as shit. She then raised her left hand and willed forth a bubble of pure Cursed Energy. And the pure joy and relief in her voice was damn near infectious as she fell to her knees, bowed her head, and said, "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! I-I- I don't know what to do or say! I can't thank you enough!"

"Sheesh, calm down," Satoru said, raising his hands. Though, wasn't that a very interesting response? It was now safe to assume the fact that this... She-Who-Thirsts individual was one of the four gods that ruled the Cursed Realm, one of the four bitches who'd be eating his dust soon. And, for some odd reason, it stood to reason that it had some kind of claim over the souls of every single Eldar – or, at least, a lot of them. Though, the second conclusion couldn't exactly be verified, unless he used his Six-Eyes on a large population. It was entirely possible that it was only these guys. But, again, he wouldn't know until he reached the actual Craftworld. "It really wasn't even hard to do."

"You saved me! How could I ever repay you?" She stood back up, before reaching up the sides of her helmet and, with a sharp hiss, removed it, revealing... holy shit. Were all Eldar women this pretty, because god damn. Her emerald-green eyes were almond-shaped, but not quite humanly shaped in that regard – distinctly alien and somewhat feline, but still familiar enough to not be off-putting. Underneath her eyes were high cheekbones, accompanied by generally sharp features. What truly caught Satoru's attention, however, were her knife-like ears that jutted outwards from both sides of her head. Other than that, her lips, which curved upwards to form a... some kind of smile that might not have been a smile at all, and her teeth were both almost identical to what humans had, which was disappointing. But, the Farseer was hot enough to make up for that disappointment.

New goal: sleep with the hot alien space elf chick, no matter what, and damn the consequences, but hopefully not space STDs, because that would really suck.

Satoru cleared his thoughts, blinked, and then rapidly shook his head. Less horny, more talky. "Saved you from what, exactly?"

Her eyes darkened somewhat as she answered, "From She-Who-Thirsts, the great enemy of my people. Before you, she held dominion over the souls of all Eldar, devouring us at the moment of our deaths. The only way to preserve them was to store their essence within Spirit Stones..."

She trailed off and gestured at the gem on her chest, bluish white, like a star on a black and cloudless night. She seemed sad for a moment, before she shook her head and smiled once more, her gaze turning towards him. "But now... there might be hope."

Well, that pretty much confirmed theory numero uno: one of the four bitches had a claim over the Eldar souls and it probably wasn't Tzeentch. Nah, this didn't feel like his handiwork. And, if it was, it would've been a dumbass move to send him to the Eldar. So, no. Definitely one of the other three. Still, her gratitude felt... quite nice, actually – and he wasn't just thinking that because she was smoking hot. No, it... genuinely felt good to be appreciated for his contribution, especially given the fact that his contribution did not require the death of anything or anyone. Sure, there was a brief fight, but it'd been settled quickly enough. Or, it will be settled soon enough.

Satoru merely shrugged and nodded, before he turned and pointed at the other warriors who were still down on the ground – unconscious, but otherwise fully healed. "I fixed them up too – got rid of the shitstain on their souls."

"Now and forever," The Farseer suddenly said, bowing her head and keeping her gaze to the floor. She held up a fist to her chest. "You are a friend of the Eldar and an eternal guest of Craftworld Yme-Loc; I will personally guarantee it with my life. You are Aithnid."

Satoru raised a brow. He did not understood that last bit, but it sounded important. Aithnid... was that a nickname or a title or something? He thought their word for human was Monkeigh, but maybe he was wrong? Oh well, this was going to be confusing, no matter what he did. "Cool. You mentioned something about wanting to repay me, yeah? Well, may I enter your Craftworld?"

"Of course!" Her eyes lit up. She seemed almost giddy – excited, like a child. Cute. Damn it. "I will guide you and speak on your behalf before the Great Council. They must know what you're capable of! They must know that you are the hope of the Eldar! Will you help us, Lord Voidwalker?"

Satoru raised a brow. The Farseer was assuming that he'd actually expend the effort to save them. But... well... he couldn't just let a Cursed Bitch devour their souls, could he? Was this why Tzeentch sent him here, to save the Eldar and steal shit from them at the same time? Shit was a pretty big responsibility that Satoru wouldn't trust himself with. The whole sequence of events wasa little confusing, but it'd probably soften the inevitable blow when he inevitably nabbed a Shard of Khaine, whatever that is, from one of their well. The big blue bird didn't tell him he couldn't burn off the marks on their souls; so, what the heck? And he also definitely didn't tell him to just return the damn thing after stealing it.

So, Satoru grinned. If the hot alien chick wanted him to be her and her people's savior, then who was he to refuse? The horny was too strong for that. And, really, this was probably the smoothest possible way to get into the Craftworld and under her sheets – assuming they had compatible genitals, which was kind of a weird thing to think about because what if their females had dicks, instead? Nah, not thinking about that. "Well, that's why I came all the way out here."

Man, he was so good at bullshitting wasn't he?

"But, my name's not Voidwalker," Satoru said, definitely not correcting her on the 'Lord' part, because it sounded cool as hell. "The name's Gojo Satoru, sorcerer extraordinaire. At your service, madame."

"Of course, Lord Gojo," The Farseer spoke, tipping her head. "I am Caoimhe, a follower of the Path of the Seer."

"Cool. Nice to meet ya!"

Eventually, after a few moments, the Eldar Warriors awakened. And, after coming to the realization that their souls were no longer marked and after a brief explanation by their Farseer of what exactly it was that he'd done, the Warriors pledged themselves to defend him with all they had and all that they were, which was touching and all, but Satoru didn't really need it. Still, he smiled and waved and nodded along to whatever they said, most of it being some form of, "Thank you for saving my soul. I will do everything in my power to repay you." And yadda yadda yadda.

He kind of tuned them out for two reasons: they were saying essentially the same thing as the Farseer and none of them were as hot as she was. Though, since none of them bothered to take off their helmets, he couldn't be entirely certain. They could've all been dudes, too, though the armor they wore was kind of androgynous, really; their voices were definitely masculine, however, unlike the Farseer. "Since you guys are so keen on repaying me, can you maybe start by taking me to your Craftworld? It'd be awfully nice if I wasn't floating in a half-dead chunk of metal in space, ya know? Seeing and touching some grass would do me wonders."

"Of course, Lord Gojo." The Farseer bowed her head. Hm, this felt weird. Respect was something he was used to, even if it was mostly the begrudging kind; reverence was something else entirely and Satoru wasn't entirely certain that he liked it. The Farseer's eyes flashed briefly, accompanied by a surge of Cursed Energy. Satoru quickly noted the uniqueness of that particular form of Cursed Energy – definitely positive, originating from some form of mental power. Fascinating. Hopefully, he'd learn much about the Eldar and their likely peculiar form of Jujutsu, especially now when he apparently had the ability to save their race from some bitch in the Cursed Realm.

Oh yes, one step closer to becoming a god.