Guinevere clasped the mouth of the prisoner with a hand as the ex-Scarlet Logic mber plucked the cigar from the Blood Angel. Then, the space was filled with the sound of searing flesh. The figure squird within the grasp of the Blood Angel as their eye burst with viscous fluid.
“Was it necessary to break their jaw?” The ex-Scarlet Logic mber questioned to which Guinevere dusted her fur coat nonchalantly before retrieving her cigar from his hand.
“As you saw, they injured themselves. A few broken teeth is nothing to worry over either. Which reminds of when the hero Sagramore found issue when there were molars in his soup. Nutrients are nutrients. Why give pity to those who would not spare a thought to ravage us?”
Her logic was based on centuries of conflict, persecution, and unending hatred of sides that called themselves good whilst labeling others as evil. She then took another puff and returned to the table where she dipped a finger into a shallow pool of blood.
Afterwards, she gave it a tentative taste and lapped her lips.
“Now now. Your animosity towards the Larin Empire is shared by the Head and its Ateliers. But know this, keep your killings away from Emvita for the ti being.”
“It would an death to disobey the wishes of the Head.” One humd. “May I ask what will be happening in Emvita?”
“You’ll find out in the coming days. Keep an eye out on the newspapers. Evmita’ll be a shitstorm. Can’t control everything that’ll happen. Naly, you’ll get yourself killed if you happen to overstep your boundaries.”
She took another puff. Heavy footsteps suddenly approached from behind her. The ex-Scarlet Logic mber stepped aside as they stared at the ground. It was a sign of terror. The sight of a terrified Scarlet Logic mber caused the room to chill by several degrees, and the Serial Convention could not help but stare at the space behind Guinevere with morbid fascination.
“It’ll be until after the war that covert operations will begin. You nobles are good at your public relations.” Guinevere added. “Clean up loose ends wherever they may be. Power vacuums will also beco an issue. There will no doubt be others eying the real estate left behind.”
No one questioned the ‘if’ or ‘how’. They were aware it was an inevitability. Outside of the Head’s Ateliers and their own power, they possessed the Black Wings which were already powerful enough to overwhelm a nation on their own.
However, Elysia was a gargantuan place.
The fatal flaw of the Nexus was its numbers. No matter how powerful they were, they could not be everywhere at once.
This was why the likes of the Serial Convention, and even the Weavers – who were previously from a Fallen Beholder – were actively used by Ateliers. Moreover, these individuals were bound by the Golden Ring and the Golden Pinky, aning that they could not betray the Nexus.
They were never coerced into an agreent. One of them recalled the jubilance they felt when their work was finally being legitimized by an Atelier. Whilst the group rejoiced over the direct condonent of the Head, a strange, black creature bounced along the bloody tiles with a visceral splat.
The heart-shaped creature – which was roughly a ter long and tall – began floating at around chest height. Embedded within the center was a golden eye. Its shell pulsated with each breath it took, revealing crimson muscle between the cracks.
It emanated a warm sensation. For a second, an overwhelming sense of comfort filled the hearts of the mbers of the Serial Convention. One reached towards it, before smartly retreating. The urge they felt was akin to a child wanting to embrace a stuffed teddy bear.
However, they knew that touching that thing – which distorted light like a gravity well – would be the undoing of them.
“What is that creature?”
“Quite hard… but beneath exposes humanoid flesh… Could it be an Impuritas?”
Guinevere waved her hand and patted the top of the creature.
“Neither a creature born from the Hearts, or a creature at all. It is a Dreg of Treachery. We call this a Sin. Cold is the love of a heart that cannot love itself.”
She guided the Dreg towards the unconscious prisoner.
“So, by the virtue of the Head’s gifts, she grants people a chance to love themselves.”
The heart was then placed gently against the prisoner’s chest. Their flesh distorted as their chest was hollowed out. The Dreg of Treachery sank into where their heart resided. The shell opened like the petals of a flower, revealing a cold stake that steadily impaled that heart.
At the tip of the stake was an eye, and once it skewered their heart, the petal closed, their chest stitched itself back, and a black, crystalline mark was left on the left side of their chest.
The figure’s eyes fluttered open, and Guinevere drank their despair as several more Dregs entered the room.
“In Vivo, I believe I was told. Ponder deeply about the dreams you wish you had. What you could have beco. Let those dreams and your precious mories swell in your heart…”
Guinevere cupped the prisoner’s broken jaw tenderly.
“… So that the brood parasite may inherit it. Your body will serve the Head well.”
“G-Get… Get it out… Get it out! Get it out! It’s squirming! A-ahhh – Mmmmph!”
“So noisy.” She gestured at the ex-Scarlet Logic mber, and they swiftly shut the prisoner up by detaching their jaw. “My good friends. Will you show where you are keeping the Larin Empire prisoners? We have an experint to conduct. It would be in bad taste for the Head to conduct these herself.”
Horror – yet fascination – filled the eyes behind the respirators of the Serial Convention.
“Is it appropriate to ask what those brood parasites are…?”
“What else, other than a bird of the sa feathers She bears? They are the Denizens of the Nest laid so generously by the Head herself. Fear not, for we share the sa Nest. The purpose of a brood parasite is infiltration and replacent.”
Suddenly, a much larger, darker creature approached the entrance. It was far too large to fit its many limbs through, so it had to claw its way through. Jagged-tipped limbs resembling a spider made of crystals entered. Stitching the limbs to the body were strands of flesh. Seated in the center was a singular golden eye where countless cracks seed to spread from.
It resembled a black Anid. Its limbs tapped every surface it could as if to visualize the space it had entered. Then, it moved to one of the mbers of the Serial Convention. Fear froze them in place. But their excitent betrayed how their heart felt.
The creature lood over them, bringing its eye – which resided beneath its abdon – close enough to make contact with their face. A low-pitched rumble ca from the creature, and its eye split into eight perfect petals, each peeling until its entire lower half revealed rows of rotating teeth…
… and a heart made from compact humanoid flesh.
A long, prehensile tongue slithered from within the petal, and it licked the air in front of the figure.
The figure leaned inwards, ready to offer itself as a al to satisfy their morbid curiosity despite their fear. However, and much to their disappointnt, the creature snapped its mouth shut and suddenly lunged towards a door that was being opened.
Muffled screams ca from the other side of the door as it slamd shut.
“Aren’t they adorable? The Head’s Denizens take all manners of wonderful forms. They are just like our early prototypes when we attempted to replicate an Anid’s biology with the Dwarves.” Guinevere smoked her cigar until it crumbled in her fingertips. “Pwaaaaaah. Black Wings, and the Head’s Denizens. The Bird and the Spider. A tale as old as ti.”
“How… many…?”
“As many as the Head requires. Manpower has admittedly been problematic. As for these, I envision thousands upon thousands. Quite fitting, no? Scarlet Logic cannot die. And these have the potential to breed rapidly. It fixes the Nexus’ lack of a sizable military force ever since Scarlet Logic betrayed us.”
Ateliers could only throw so much. Yes, they were incredibly powerful, but it was not smart to spread them thin, less they wished to incur extre casualties like what occurred in Frontier against the Impuritas.
Thus, the Nexus required an army that would not relent no matter the circumstances.
An army that the Amalgam could comfortably send into war en masse.
None fit better than her Denizens and the Sins of Treachery.
“Which reminds . Are there any volunteers to beco an Original Sin? We received orders to find a suitable partner. Half of you are already partially Demon. It would not hurt to complete the process. If you are interested, or have soone in mind, then please do let us know.”
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