This wasn’t the first ti my sisters had used that exact set of words when talking about . Even so, it wasn’t like hearing that made feel special, amazing, or one of a kind. If anything, no matter how much they insisted on seeing that way, I could never bring myself to view myself as soone worthy of those kinds of descriptions.
Honestly, from my perspective, they were always the extraordinary ones. Even though they rarely used their powers, the few tis I had the chance to witness them in action were enough to burn that impression deep into my mind.
There was sothing almost srizing about watching them, the effortless way they handled such absurd abilities, the confidence behind every movent, and the unique way each of them expressed their own strength.
My little sisters were incredible in their own ways. Each of them had sothing that made them unforgettable, sothing impossible to replicate or compare. Maybe that’s why, even though I eventually managed to surpass them in one specific aspect, I was never able to credit that solely to my own strength.
That would be way too arrogant. If I made it this far, it was thanks to a pretty unglamorous combination of constant help, unexpected opportunities, and, above all else, an absolutely ridiculous amount of luck.
Considering everything I’ve gone through since the mont I awakened in that forest, trapped inside a body completely abnormal by any human standard, I wouldn’t even place myself among the higher-class anomalies. If I had to rank myself, I’d say I’m sowhere in the middle, far from ordinary, but still nowhere near what could truly be called monstrous.
If there’s anything that genuinely makes special, it would be my golden field capable of freezing ti, my rainbow-colored eyes that can perceive any weakness, and my ability to absorb powers. Those are, without question, the only truly impressive traits I possess.
Still, there’s one pretty frustrating detail: I can barely use those abilities more efficiently than their original owners. Most of the ti, all I really do is improvise, piecing together resources and possibilities depending on what the situation demands. When I think about it rationally, that doesn’t sound all that extraordinary.
Especially when I compare my abilities to those of my little sisters. Within the very concepts that define them, they can accomplish practically anything. It doesn’t matter how absurd, impossible, or contradictory an action may be; as long as it aligns with their conceptual nature, limits simply stop existing.
Anyway, even though I still didn’t fully trust myself, I couldn’t think of any plausible reason for my sisters to be lying. Honestly, I seriously doubt they’d risk telling a lie when my head pats and affection are on the line, you’d be surprised to learn just how absurdly serious this matter is to them.
With that thought in mind, I shifted my attention back to my little sisters. My expression remained unchanged, but internally, a quiet uneasiness was beginning to grow. I asked in a relatively monotone voice, though sohow my words still seed to echo strangely around us, even though I was speaking only ntally.
“Alright...” I paused briefly, organizing my thoughts before continuing: “Setting aside how special I may or may not be...” I began, lightly furrowing my brows: “Though, honestly, I very clearly don’t feel that way at all” That last part ca out in such a low, nearly embarrassed murmur that, for a mont, I doubted even my little sisters had managed to catch it.
I took a deep breath, as if gathering the courage to finally voice the real question that had been circling in my mind from the very beginning: “So...” my ntal voice faltered for a fraction of a second before regaining its usual steadiness: “What exactly is so special about that could stop that apocalyptic pillar?”
As always, Althea was the first to speak after hearing my question. Her signature mischievous smile remained intact, as though that expression were inseparable from her very nature: “In simple terms, dear sister, all you need to do is get close and touch the epicenter of the inversion”
Even though Althea hadn’t specified exactly what she ant by “epicenter,” it wasn’t difficult to figure it out. I had witnessed the pillar’s ergence firsthand, watched its formation from the very instant the energy began condensing, so the answer was obvious.
Noticing that I already understood, Althea continued in her light, casual tone: “The concepts will obey and follow you the mont you co into contact with them”
For a brief mont, silence hung between us. Then, Althea revealed a pure, delicate smile, almost innocent at first glance. Ironically, that expression only made it even more obvious that she was plotting sothing behind that angelic facade.
Opening her arms in a soft, carefree gesture, as though she were explaining sothing absurdly trivial, she concluded: “Simple as that” For so reason, hearing those words co out of Althea’s mouth made the entire situation feel way less trustworthy than it probably should have.
Well, I definitely couldn’t argue with the “simple” part. From that perspective, the plan really was ridiculously straightforward, since technically, I wouldn’t actually have to do anything at all. Even so, there was one tiny detail that made all that apparent simplicity a little problematic: “There’s so kind of... force field spreading across the city. Back when it was still tiny, I tried touching it out of curiosity, and my arm just disappeared”
Just rembering that scene sent a chill down my spine. At the ti, I thought it had been so kind of illusion or maybe my senses glitching out, so I tried again. And then again. The result never changed. Every ti I ca into contact with the barrier, so part of my body would vanish as if it had been erased from reality itself, no resistance, no pain, no signs of physical damage.
My body shuddered involuntarily as I recalled the sensation. It wasn’t exactly pain, at least not in the conventional sense. It was sothing much harder to describe: a strange absence. Like my brain was still stubbornly trying to acknowledge the existence of sothing that was no longer attached to my body, creating this deeply unsettling sensation.
Definitely not sothing I was eager to experience again. At the very least, I had zero interest in continuing to lose random body parts in the hope that, at so point, sothing would magically work out.
“S-Sister... she’s going to have to reveal herself... isn’t she?” My thoughts were abruptly interrupted by Nyara’s hesitant words. Her timid nature was still obvious, but this ti there was sothing beyond her usual insecurity in her voice, a subtle apprehension, almost like she was forcing herself to say sothing she didn’t want to admit.
Beside , Tenebrya had the exact opposite reaction. Her eyes sharpened slightly, and her curiosity practically overflowed without effort, her emotions displayed with almost childish transparency after hearing Nyara’s words. As for , I wasn’t much different. Reveal herself? The phrase echoed incompletely in my mind.
What exactly did “reveal herself” even an? Judging by the way Nyara said it, it didn’t sound simple... much less positive. As if confirming my suspicions, Eryanis showed, for the first ti, a genuine trace of concern. Even so, her posture remained flawless.
She still carried that usual aristocratic elegance, every movent more graceful than the last, though now there was a faint tension in her delicate features: “That may be... sowhat problematic” Her voice ca out quieter than usual.
Eryanis paused briefly, crossing her arms over her chest while one finger tapped rhythmically against her own arm, a small gesture, but unusually restless coming from her. Her gaze drifted away for a mont, as if carefully weighing her next words: “We don’t know for certain what an early revelation might do to Sister...” she said, her expression growing more serious: “I’m not sure her current mind would be capable of enduring the sight”
I felt genuinely confused by everything being said. We were still talking about saving the city from the Apocalyptic Pillar... right? So why did I suddenly have this strange feeling that the conversation had veered into sothing completely unrelated?
Furrowing my brow, I let my confusion slip out as a question: “What exactly are you all talking about? What does “reveal herself” an? Is this so kind of secret sister code that, for so reason, I’m supposed to understand?”
My sisters exchanged silent glances. It was the first ti since the conversation began that their expressions showed anything close to genuine concern. Up until then, they had seed strangely calm and confident.
But looking more closely, I realized even they didn’t seem to fully grasp the true severity of the situation. Maybe they had believed everything could be resolved without resorting to extre asures, a naive hope that was clearly beginning to crumble.
The silence that followed was uncomfortable. I waited for an answer, and it ca from Nekra. Maintaining her usual pale, corpse-like expression, she slowly turned her face toward . Her presence always carried this overwhelming sense of absolute apathy, as though emotions were concepts far too distant to ever reach her.
And yet, sothing had changed. Her eyes, normally dull and lifeless, now held a faint glimr. But it wasn’t the soft, childlike sparkle that appeared whenever I patted her head. No, this was different. Sharper. Heavier. Laden with apprehension.
After a brief pause, Nekra finally spoke, her voice low and dragging as always: “Revelation... ans... assuming, if only for a brief mont... your true self... at the center of creation”
I wasn’t sure why, but the way Nekra said that sounded anything but reassuring. If anything, hearing it from her made the words feel unnaturally ominous, almost like a death sentence being casually announced. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one who noticed.
“That doesn’t sound remotely promising” Rupert muttered, his voice low and uncertain. His eyes swept across the group before returning to Nekra: “Actually, it sounds absurdly lethal, considering all of you are staring at the [Angel of Death] like she’s already a corpse waiting to be buried”
The comnt drew a few uncomfortable looks, but no one bothered contesting it. After all, Rupert had only put into words what everyone was probably already thinking. Victor let out a long, heavy sigh, crossing his arms as he tilted his head back slightly, as if trying to find so hidden logic buried within this insane strategy.
His voice followed shortly after Rupert’s, carrying an unusual sense of resignation: “This ti... unfortunately, I feel obligated to agree with Rupert”
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