Satoru breathed in and willed forth the formation of Cursed Matter – or, Wraithbone as the Aeldari referred to it. But, if he was being honest, 'Cursed Matter' made way more sense as a name. Whatever the case, Satoru knew the motions and had already memorized the steps in his head and so drawing forth a soul-shard from within himself was easy, needing almost no effort on his part. Next was the hard part, which was the implantation of form and purpose. The first time he did this, Satoru created a simple dagger – not even a very good one, because the damn thing broke when he tried to use it.

But, hey, Satoru boiled it down to a lack of experience and a general lack of knowledge on the matter. It wasn't instinctive to him as it was to the Aeldari, after all, and not even all of them could do it. So, he was pretty much starting from scratch.

Satoru breathed in and focused every bit of attention he had on the shapeless bubble of Cursed Matter in his grasp. What did he want to do with it? What did he want it to look like? What purpose was it supposed to have? And how could he interpret all of that into a Haiku? After all, Haiku was the means with which he granted form and function to the Cursed Matter.

Screw it, he was going to try something a lot more complicated than a knife, like a gun. But not any gun. No, it had to be something related to his Cursed Energy, like a tube that focused and shot out beams of Red or Blue. Or something like that. Essentially a Cursed Tool that worked as an amplifier for Cursed Energy. Though, to be absolutely certain, Satoru wasn't sure if that was even possible as creating a Cursed Tool was difficult enough; making one out of Cursed Matter seemed like a step in a more difficult, but probably more rewarding direction.

Alright, maybe something a little simpler, then. What about a pistol-shaped thing that, upon pulling the trigger, automatically unleashed a thin beam of Hollow Technique: Purple at anything Satoru aimed at. The necessary calculations and mechanisms for the Cursed Technique itself would be embedded on the Cursed Tool, allowing for instant transmission. Of course, something as small as a pistol wouldn't be able to hold too much Cursed Energy, especially Purple, but a thin beam of the stuff wouldn't need a lot, anyway.

So, now, the challenge was imprinting all of that intent into a Haiku with all the feelings required to actually make the whole thing work, because therein lay the problem; it was difficult to do anything based entirely on feeling and instinct, when intent was involved.

But, he was Gojo Satoru, the Honored One, and now the Britheim, Harbinger of the New Pantheon and kicker of ass and fucker of bitches; nothing was impossible to him.

Satoru focused, his mind sharpening to a razor's edge. He could feel the potential of the Cursed Matter in his grasp, the energy swirling and coalescing, waiting for direction. It was time to give it form and purpose.

"In void's embrace, light,
Bound by cursed will, it strikes true—
Purple's fleeting kiss."

As the last syllable of the Haiku left his lips, Satoru willed his intent into the Cursed Matter. The shapeless bubble began to shift and compress, taking on the form he had envisioned. He could feel the resistance, the energy fighting to remain amorphous, but his will was stronger. Gradually, it molded into the shape of a sleek, pistol-like object, the surface smooth and black, with a faint, eerie glow emanating from within. The surface of it glimmered with endless stars and odd, swirling shapes, kind of like the interior of Infinite Void, but a little darker. A Cursed Tool, Satoru realized, imbued with the essence of his Innate Technique so that no other could use it.

It was light, almost too light, and he could sense the fragility of its construction. But it held. Satoru knew it wouldn't take much to break the damn thing. Actually, it'd probably shatter if he stepped on it by accident or rolled over it in bed. And, really, Satoru wasn't sure what to think of such a weapon. It was kind of like the Sword of Khaine in that regard; he wasn't used to wielding it and would need some adjustment period. Still, all things considered, it was pretty good; that it took physical shape at all was worthy of a pat on the back. Now, it was time to test its functionality.

"It's still as amazing now as it was the first time, Lord Gojo," Caoimhe, the only other person the entirety of the Hall of Khaine – or what remained of it – clapped. Satoru smiled as he turned to the Aeldari Farseer, now the head of her order, seeing as she was now pretty much the most powerful Aeldari in the entire Craftworld, having unlocked 100% of her full potential during the Mechanicus Invasion – or, as the Aeldari referred to it, the Iron Rain. Caoimhe stood up and walked towards him, stopping by Satoru's side. "I can sense great power from that artifact, Lord Gojo; what does it do?"

Satoru smiled as he raised the pistol-thing and aimed it right at the 'target' at the end of the hall, a ruined statue of Khaine that was so badly maintained it kind of just looked like a dude now. And, since the Aeldari now saw him as the living incarnation of the Blood-Handed God of Murder and War, Satoru could do just about anything he wanted, whenever he wanted, with whatever artifacts were left behind by Khaine himself. Sweet. And that included using the Bloody-Handed God's statue as target practice. "Not quite sure what it's going to do just yet, but what I want it to do is automatically channel Blue and Red for me and shoot out a blast of Purple at whatever I'm aiming at – all at the pull of this little trigger right here."

"You're unsure?" Caoimhe raised a brow as she stared at the sleek, black pistol-shaped thing in Satoru's grasp.

Satoru nodded and shrugged. "Hey, I'm new to this whole thing. And an actual Cursed Tool is way more complicated than a knife. But, eh, only one way to find out."

Without hesitation, Satoru pulled the trigger. A thin, concentrated beam of Purple energy shot forth from the weapon, hitting the statue with pinpoint accuracy. Idly, Satoru noted that this was probably the thinnest and smallest Purple he'd ever released, even smaller than the one he'd blasted Toji with. The results, however, spoke for themselves. On the statue of Khaine, right between the eyes, at the center of the head, was a penny-sized hole where the Purple had struck, completely annihilating anything it hit, including the wall behind the statue and whatever else was behind that. Good thing the Hall of Khaine sat the edge of the city.

The weapon shuddered and Satoru knew that pulling the trigger a second time would break it. He sighed and threw it away. "Eh, failure. Can't use a gun that fires only once."

Of course, he knew why that was and it was simply due to the destructive nature of Hollow Technique: Purple, which was the same reason why the Star Piercer fell apart after one use; channeling Purple through an object meant that said object would have to survive the technique's effects. That the pistol wasn't already dust was good news, because it meant Satoru could simply build it stronger when he felt like it. The fact that this whole thing was now tied to Haiku was the limiting factor, but it was also pretty much the one thing that made the whole thing function in the first place. With a ton of refinement, it could become a powerful tool, one that could amplify his already formidable abilities

"Amazing," Caoimhe muttered. "It takes even the most talented Bonesinger hundreds of years to successfully sing a rifle into existence. You created a pistol on your second try, Lord Gojo; that, in itself, is worthy of praise. The ability to create a locus of power, as you did, is a Bonesinging art that takes thousands of years to master; and you did it on your second try."

"I guess so," Satoru flashed a grin. And then, his eyes narrowed as he stared at the gun. It didn't deserve a name as it was. But, maybe a gun wasn't the best method – at least, for now. Eh, he'd experiment with Cursed Matter again later on, when he felt like it. For now, his next order of business was continuing his research on Aeldari Rituals, many of which he'd memorized now in perfect and vivid detail, dozens of incredibly complex rituals, each one requiring its own unique Cursed Array, now stored in his brain. They were... incredibly fascinating, honestly, and Satoru wasn't afraid to admit that the only reason he even understood them was due to Six-Eyes doing the heavy lifting for him, allowing him an almost instantaneous understanding of the mechanics behind how a ritual may function, how it drew power, and how its effects were supposed to manifest.

One such ritual, which had long since been banned among the Aeldari for being way too dangerous, was for the summoning and binding of Cursed Spirits, something that reminded Satoru of Geto's Cursed Technique. The reason why it was banned was due to the Four Gods of Chaos that now ruled the Cursed Realm, the four entities that stood in Satoru's way of achieving divinity. Apparently, the fuckers now had almost total monopoly over the Cursed Spirits, the same way Kairos was under Tzeentch's dominion. So, any Cursed Spirit they could summon already belonged to another master, making it almost impossible to dominate and bind.

Almost impossible.

Satoru turned to the unfinished ritual circle he'd drawn on the ground before he began his Cursed Matter experiment. It was the same ritual circle needed for the summoning and binding of Cursed Spirits from the Cursed Realm itself, but with its crucial parts erased so that it didn't do anything. Not that it could, seeing as it lacked a power supply, but it never hurt to be careful with these things. Satoru approached the circle and smiled. "Experiment number two!"

Beside him, Caoimhe sighed. "Lord Gojo, I feel that it is my duty to remind you of the fact that this ritual was banned for a reason. As Britheim, you are not beholden to such rules, but meddling with the creatures of the Sea of Souls is dangerous. And I highly advice against it."

Satoru leaned in, kissed Caoimhe's forehead, patted her red scalp, and smiled. "I am not known for being a good listening of sound advice. So, I will now do the complete opposite of what you suggested, which is meddle with the Cursed Realm and see what comes out of it!"

Caoimhe looked away, breathed in, grumbled something inaudible under her breath, and sighed. She looked so cute, like that, which was funny since Caoimhe was taller than him by a whole foot. "Fine, Lord Gojo... but... if things go awry, let the record state that I warned you."

"Let the record state that I am not a good listener," Satoru said, bending down and finishing the ritual array, which almost immediately came to life with multi-colored flames, before Satoru banished the unwanted Cursed Energies with a burst of his own. Whispers came and went. And the flames disappeared, leaving behind pure Cursed Energy – Neutral. But then a malformed crimson hand suddenly reached from beyond the veil, which Satoru caught, broke, and tore right off. "Fuck off!"

Finally, the ritual array stabilized. And Satoru breathed in and tossed the crimson hand away as he reached out and guided the array with his own Cursed Energy. As it was, it was unguided and random, reaching out for whatever Cursed Spirit happened to be closest and, honestly, Satoru had no interest in nameless Cursed Spirits. No, he wanted the big and strong ones, because – more than anything – Satoru also wished to test himself against creatures that were close enough to Kairos, in terms of strength.

And then, the ritual array stirred and something of incredible power was drawn to it. Satoru grinned. The binding chains and incantations were ready, but they wouldn't activate until the Cursed Spirit itself was defeated and dominated, which was an oddly sexual thing to think about. Whatever was coming was almost equal in stature of Kairos Fateweaver, a veritable sea of Cursed Energy and raw power. Satoru turned to the Aeldari at his side, smiling. "Caoimhe, get as far away from here as possible. Trust me."

Caoimhe seemed torn for a moment, before she nodded and bowed her head. "By your command, Lord Gojo. Stay safe."

The Aeldari Farseer disappeared in a flash of silver lightning.

Breathing in, Satoru awakened the Mark of Khaine, summoning forth the flaming armor over his right arm, alongside the Sword of Khaine in his grasp. He turned to the pistol he'd created earlier and shrugged, pulling it into his left hand with Blue. And then, the ground shook as wave after wave of Cursed Energies rolled into the physical realm. With a simple gesture, the secondary ritual array activated, sealing the Hall of Khaine off from the outside world so that his battle would not be interrupted and so that his enemy would not retreat.

A purple, spear-bearing hand emerged, followed by the rest of its body... a very ugly thing with admittedly cool hair. And yet, it was the eyes that Satoru found to be most intriguing, because no one – not in his entire life – had ever looked at him with such unbridled rage before. "You... you're the one who stole from the Master. Let it be known that I, Shalaxi Helbane, will be your end."

"I have no idea who you are, but... I also don't care." Satoru grinned, held out the pistol, and fired a single shot of Purple right into the Cursed Spirit's forehead.

AN: Chapter 40 is out on (Pat)reon!