The journey to Quruize Citadel continued without resistance.
Hours passed in relative peace, the Landship gliding smoothly across the vast expanse of Carcosa’s desolate terrain. The screw-propellers churned through the uneven ground, parting the land beneath it like a vessel cutting through an unseen ocean. The bastioneers remained vigilant, but the night had yet to bring forth any compelling obstacles beyond the anomaly of the Autogenetic Aurora.
Which I ended up abusing for my own benefits.
It was a rare luxury—one I knew better than to take for granted.
The Ordeal of the Midnight was only two hours away.
At the core of the Landship, the Ordeal Intensity Prediction Facility remained in operation, its countless streams of data mapping the night’s unfolding dangers. The shifting UI displays fed continuous readings to the neuromorphic network, updating everything from reality distortions to predictive hazard zones, allowing us to remain several steps ahead of anything Carcosa had in store for us.
It took an excessive amount of power to remain in function, but thankfully, we managed to plug in several Theotech batteries that we dismantled from the spire back then.
I didn’t even know that they were batteries until Kuzunoha pointed it out.
These Theotech batteries simply just manifest free energy out of nothing continuously in a miniscule scale, which then contained within their geometric-shaped vessels until it was used for another means.
Hence the denomination as batteries.
Of course, the original power source of the Landship was not enough to fuel it, nor the Theotech batteries we got.
Hence why Kuzunoha overclocked the process of the energy manifestation. This resulted in an excessive warping of space and time, which we used our knowledge of Somashift tech to just create an adjacent dimensional storage that contained all of those demerits away from the true interior of the Landship.
Thanks to that, the Landship could support another reality-bending facility.
At this point, I’m not surprised that I would drop the idea of making a citadel, and instead, just infinitely increase the spatial dimension of the Landship’s interior.
"I know what you’re thinking," Kuzunoha interjected my thoughts through the telepathic channel.
"I know."
She already noticed that the more comfortable I could get, the more lazy I could get at doing my job as the leader of this roided-bastion.
And with that, I felt like she had been attempting to sway me with mouth-watering ideas that could make my life even more easier.
Whether it was to butter up to me and acquire more of my affection, or to lay out further of her plan that I didn’t know of, I still have no idea.
She was just that consistently alarming, even when she didn’t want to.
"I noticed that the two of you are trying to secretly rendezvous again," Verina tuned in.
"We’re literally inside the same Landship."
Verina was still Verina. There wasn’t much change.
"Hehehe, I think I can easily hijack a telepathic connection without any effort now!" Lupina chimed. "Can anyone praise me? This should be a hard thing to achieve, am I right?"
"That’s because you’re in no way deterred from the channel to begin with."
Lupina was no longer Lupina. There was too much change in such a short amount of time.
There was also Viviane which I asked Kuzunoha to make her tune to this telepathic channel unless I asked her not to. My water nymph elderly was not as talkative unless I brought up important stuff to the table. Though, I could see her keenly amused at the interactions happening from time to time.
"No, I do not."
"Did I just say that one part aloud?"
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"No, but I could see it," Viviane said. "You’re literally smirking right in front of my face."
Sometimes, even when there were no active combats happening within the vicinity of the bastion, my confidantes and I were a little bit too busy to talk face to face with one another.
Thanks to that, this method of communication had become somewhat normalized, except the time when we all gathered together inside the observational dome within the center of the Landship.
Still, I loved my people dearly as I loved this perfect face of mine.
And just as though I began to think that there would be more peaceful progress of the Ordeal until the start of the Ordeal of the Midnight. A new alert pulsed through the network.
The screens flickered, recalibrating their focus as the system honed in on a high-influence Calamity Object manifesting nearby.
My gaze sharpened as I turned my attention to the holographic projection forming in the air before me. The data streams adjusted in real-time, compiling fragmented readings of a new entity—a presence so immense it warped the space around it, twisting the very laws of perception.
A towering behemoth had appeared in the far distance.
Even without the full analysis, the mere presence of the creature sent a wave of caution through every active bastioneer and Duolos vessel. Psychic murmurs from the neuromorphic network rippled through my mind—a collective unease spreading as the image became clearer.
The entity was vast, stretching skyward like a monument of dread. Its form was vaguely humanoid, yet impossibly grotesque, its elongated body anchored by writhing tentacles that coiled and slithered across the terrain. And atop its massive frame, embedded deep within a shifting mass of otherworldly flesh—
A singular eye.
Not an ordinary eye, but something far worse.
A rift.
A spiraling wound in the fabric of reality itself, endlessly churning with the remnants of fractured dimensions. It did not blink. It did not waver. It merely watched, its silent gaze surveying the land as if seeking something unseen.
The Landship halted once more.
In an instant, the Ordeal Intensity Prediction Facility shifted all processing power to the new anomaly. The neuromorphic network, the Duolos Hive Mind, and the accumulated memories of the countless lives that had been converted into my vessels—none contained any record of this being.
A first encounter of this Calamity Object, to put it simply.
I extended my perception outward, allowing my awareness to expand beyond the limits of my physical body. The perceptive extension—an unseen, intangible force—reached forth, delving past the surface of the Calamity Object’s existence.
I pried into the very core of what it was, peeling back the layers of incomprehensible reality that made up its being, searching for the truth that governed its existence.
The answer came swiftly, settling into my mind like an undeniable decree.
A judge.
This entity did not attack. It did not lash out. It did not bring destruction upon those who stood before it without reason.
It observed.
And it judged.
A silent arbiter of morality, bound not by reason, but by something far more rigid—by an unseen order, a law written into the very fabric of its existence.
It would not bring harm to those who stood before it unless they had sinned.
The realization unfolded within seconds, and the Ordeal Intensity Prediction Facility finalized its analysis, cross-referencing my findings with its own computational models. Within moments, a new designation was assigned—
One Thousand Sins.
I asked Kuzunoha right after in a curious mind to see if the new denomination was accurate to its true name.
"It is quite accurate, I would say~"
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The name appeared across the illuminated displays within the Landship, the information spreading rapidly through the network. Every bastioneer’s MSUs, every Duolos vessel, every Heavenly Maid now had full access to the details of this entity’s mechanics.
Yet, even with the knowledge in hand, the tension remained.
It was not a mindless beast. It was not a chaotic anomaly.
It was something systematic.
And that made it far more dangerous.
The silent unease that had settled over the Landship deepened. None dared move carelessly beneath its watchful gaze. Even the Duolos vessels, unshaken by most things, hesitated in their next movements.
Then, from the far horizon. A new presence emerged.
A pack of Calamity Objects rushed forward, their forms streaking through the dark like hunting shadows.
Bloodhounds.
I exhaled slowly. A familiar sight.
"I think I know how it will go from here," Verina commented.
The crimson beasts tore across the landscape, their movements coordinated, their eyes burning with predatory hunger. They were one of the more common Calamity Objects to emerge during Ordeals—a pack of ravenous, blood-hunting creatures, relentless in their pursuit of any living thing unfortunate enough to cross their path.
Their target?
A cluster of Duolos vessels positioned at the forefront of the Landship’s scouting perimeter.
The moment the Bloodhounds set their sights upon them, they lunged—an explosion of motion, their bodies twisting mid-air, fangs bared, claws extended.
And then.
They were erased.
Not slain.
Not struck down by weaponry or defensive countermeasures.
But utterly erased.
A surge of unseen force descended from above, a formless energy that obliterated the Bloodhounds the instant they made their move.
There was no sound. No struggle. No resistance.
One moment, the creatures existed.
The next, they did not.
I watched, unblinking, as the space where they had once been remained eerily undisturbed, as if they had never been there at all.
The answer was obvious.
The Bloodhounds had sinned.
An act of wrathful wrongdoing.