I will just make a bit disclaimer
I won't make a first person POV for our MC
Why?
Because....
Y̵̮͒o̷̟͌̋ṵ̷̧͆ ̶̜̇c̴̨͝á̵̰ñ̴͇̈́'t ̸̺̆͘ú̴̗̏ͅn̸̫̞͊͑d̶̫͔̈́͊ë̵̞͝r̴̦͙͗̐ṣ̶̈͠ͅt̸̰͊̕͜a̷̧̋n̷̛̘d̷̺͙̊ ̴̯̿ȟ̷̢ĭ̸̗s̸̭̔͘ ̶͙̾͝m̶̮̖̀̀ï̵̧̪n̴̓ͅd̴͔̖̀
Also, don't worry, the snippet is a the bottom of the chapter.
Without any further to do, enjoy!
------------------------
(Third Person's POV)
The first light of dawn painted the walls of Akira's sparse apartment a gold colouring.
Akira was already dressed and sitting on a cushion in his tatami floor. He sat at a small table, a cup of tea cooling, untouched, before him.
He didn't sleep
He hasn't had a need to for a long time.
The night he just did work, or sat in his living room, going to any memory that got in his mind at that moment. Or merely wasting time watching late night television
As he sat, he started thinking about everything he has seen in "This World".
At first he thought it would a simple one, but after seeing so many characters united in a single world, he started reaching what else there was
And he found a lot
'Kasumigaoka Utaha.
Hiratsuka Shizuka.
Yotsuya Miko.
Shinomiya Conglomerate
Cursed Spirits
Hyakkaou Private Academy
Totsuki Culinary Academy
Mid Bio Informatics'
The words flowed through his mind at rapid speeds, remembering each and every timeline.
Visiting a world was one thing, but seeing multiple words united in one was something uncommon
A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips.
It was not an expression of joy, but of recognition. The pieces clicked into place with a final, silent certainty.
"A crossover world" He murmured, the words a soft exhale in the quiet room. "It's been a while since I encountered one"
His mind, a library of infinite realities, began to categorize. This wasn't a simple world with a single ruleset. It was a grand, chaotic intersection of many
A junction of points where the narratives of multiple universes had inexplicably tangled, their borders frayed and overlapping.
Like any crossover world, it had many stories and timeline happening one alongside the other
Slice-of-life romantic comedy was sharing space with a horror story and a battle shounen plot, all filtered through the mundane lens of a suburban high school.
He has seen this types of worlds many times before, each very interesting.
Coming her on the recommendation of her. He decided to give it a try. And he liked what he saw.
Crossover worlds were rare, usually located on the edges on the multiverse were many other multiverses bordered it.
The possibilities were actually infinite, since the Monocosm has many multiverses and even Omniverses that border each other.
He came here blind, and was actually glad he did. It was a surprise to be sure, seeing that many story-lines connected to each other, but it was a welcome one.
That made him wonder, what else was connected to this world?
Which other story-lines are included in this world?
He could, if he wished, open his perception fully. To see everything in this world in a fraction of a second
Not with his eyes, but his í̶̪͔̔n̷͉̻̆̃s̶̪̔ī̶̫g̶̖̜̑͗h̸̨̝̓ť̶͖̺
He could gaze directly into the underlying leylines of this reality, see everything, everyone.
He could see every thread, every character's point of origin, every plotline yet to unfold, every potential future branching out from this curious world
He could map it all with absolute without any resistance from the world itself, he could know everything.
The temptation was a faint, familiar itch in the back of his consciousness, the ghost of an old habit. Knowledge was, after all, the ultimate power, the ultimate defence.
But then his gaze fell upon the simple ceramic cup. He watched the last wisp of steam vanish into the still air
He listened to the distant, rhythmic hum of a delivery truck down the street, the sound of a world utterly oblivious to what it hid beneath the surface, to the horrors that would unfold in the future.
He thought about what he has been doing all this time. Actually enjoying the mundane life he has had until now.
The role he was playing
His part of the story, or better yet, stories
Of course, if he wanted, he could unfold a fraction of his full power. And he could end every menace or threat that could appear before him.
But, as he always said....What is the fun in that?
He has already done that many times before. Curb-stomping worlds just for the fun of it. Just going around destroying everything. Even worlds with reality-bending beings that could destroy or create with but a thought.
And that was without counting those times. Were he was lost in rage and hatred and thousands worlds fell
No, right now, he was on sabbatical.
To open his í̶̪͔̔n̷͉̻̆̃s̶̪̔ī̶̫g̶̖̜̑͗h̸̨̝̓ť̶͖̺ fully would be to break the immersion. It would be like reading the last page of every book in the library simultaneously.
It would render the entire experience… null, to turn the adventure boring
It would turn everything predictable. And predictability was the one true death of curiosity, the only thing that truly bored him.
The mystery, the slow piecemeal discovery by the inhabitants themselves, that was the reason he decided to come to this world. The reason he came here in the first place
Seeing how most things have been going until now, he can guess many story-lines are just starting and unfolding
A flicker of genuine amusement crossed his features.
He finally picked up the cup of tea and took a sip. It was cold. The taste was bitter as he liked it, and utterly perfect. Made with his own [Skills]
The day awaited
-------------------------------
The gates of Soubu High were still swarming with students as Akira approached
He didn't have watch duty today, so he could arrive a little day. Usually, one teacher is assigned a turn to watch over the gates until the closing hour, then after that, every student that arrives gets either a verbal reprimand or if he is a repeat offender he might get assigned a written apology to give that same day or extra-work to do the day, either physical like helping a teacher move stuff, or extra homework, depending on the teacher.
It is rare for students to arrive late, but it happens from time to time
As always, when Akira arrived, many of the female students started to gossip. It has been like that ever since arriving here
He had enough CHaRisma to attract that much attraction to him
The morning sun caught the platinum strands of his hair, making it seem like a crown of cold fire. The sharp, impossible perfection of his features was a stark contrast to the soft, youthful faces around him.
Feeling slightly bored since that morning, he decided to do something to get himself a slight amusement for the day
He decided to give them something to talk about. So he slicked his hair back slightly, closing his eyes and sighing lowly
A group of first-year girls fell into a sudden, breathless silence, their hands freezing mid-gesture. A cluster of students from second year eased their chatter, their eyes widening with awe, blushed cheeks, and eyes expressing desire.
Having done that, he continued walking, without a single beat missed
The murmurs and sounds of the morning rush of students to their classrooms dampened around him as he walked towards the teacher's lounge
When he entered, he saw a couple of teachers going by and doing their various task, some prating around while serving drinks
He acknowledged a few colleagues with a micro-nod, a gesture so minimal it was barely a twitch of his head
As he has become quite famous even between the teacher of Soubu High, they replied with a smile and a Good Morning
At his desk, a neat stack of homework to grade awaited him. But sitting squarely on top of the pile was another thing completely foreign of his normal desk
It was an envelope.
Not the standard inter-office memo. This was heavy, cream-colored vellum, its surface watermarked with a subtle, intricate pattern. The address was calligraphed in jet-black ink with a flawless, aristocratic hand: 'Yoshioka Akira-sensei, Soubu High School Faculty Office' There was no return address
He picked it up.
The paper was thick, expensive. He could tell the fabric around the envelope was high-end, easy costing around half his teacher's salary. He could even tell the ink used for the letters was high-quality. That is besides the calligraphy written in the envelope
Japanese Calligraphy was a renowned profession. Some could even go about 500,000 yen a single commission. And he instantly could tell the writing in the envelope was made by a professional.
Of course, he could do better, but he wasn't going to dedicate himself to write in paper for a living, again.
He slid a single finger under the flap, and the high-quality seal gave way with a soft, satisfying rip.
Inside was a single card, of the same heavy stock. The script was formal, precise, and utterly grandiose.
"The Shinomiya Group
Requests the pleasure of your company
At a celebration in honor of
Shinomiya Kaguya
On the occasion of her birthday"
Details of time, place, and a dauntingly exclusive address followed.
A faint, imperceptible smile touched his lips.
'So' he thought 'The financial conglomerates have finally decided to take a step'
Of course, he knew appeared all of the sudden and gaining billions on inversions in so short time would attract attention.
And seeing how the Shinomiya Conglomerate existed in this world, he could see Ga'an himself be curious, or stressed about it.
Seeing how he buyed a couple of failing business from them that turned out into millions of yen gains.
As to why, well, his Finance and Economics skills were high, very high, so why not?
Besides, he wanted to have an easy life, and investing, specially knowing where and when to invest was one of the easiest way.
And even if he used the money and riches he has stored, it would actually be counterintuitive. Where could he explain where he got those thousands ton of 100% Gold bars, with purity that is impossible to get in this world
The Shinomiyas were merely the first to address him. Of course, he knows that many other conglomerates, zaibatsu and entrepreneurs have already taken notice of him, some probably thinking he has connections or an inside source, others probably thinking he is just lucky
The sheer audacity of it, the belief that their world of corporate empires and social standing could possibly contain or define him, was laughable.
It was like a single-celled organism attempting to issue a Q&A to a hurricane
He placed the invitation back on the desk, aligning it perfectly with the edge. He remembered the dozens of times where he had been inside worlds of politics, and remember the kind of people he had seen and met
The kind that he had meet across thousands of worlds, but only met with the inevitability of his existence. The ant finding out there was more to the garden and its mind couldn't go back to their narrow perspective of the world.
Like the man that lived in a cave and discovered the light.
How did the saying go?
'Men tried to interpret their dreams, and the gods laughed'
He remembered
So many suicides….
But then, the amusement returned.
The Shinomiya head, in his gilded cage, believed they could figure him out, bring him to their claws and strangle him
They had no idea who they were messing with. He has been in this game long before their universe's dust even sparkled
He picked up his papers for today's class
The invitation was dealt with.
He would go to the gala, he would play their games, go to their level and beat them in it, just like he has done a million times before, where he decided to forgo power and deal with universes with only words and political maneuverability
For now the immediate task was teaching a class
The bell for first period chimed
Akira stood, collected his materials, and walked towards his classroom.
Let's see if he can mind-break some teenagers again
--------------------------
The final bell's drone faded into the usual after-school cacophony of shuffling feet and slamming lockers.
Akira methodically stacked his papers into a perfectly aligned pile
As he stepped into the hallway, the flow of students instinctively parted around him.
It was there that Hiratsuka Shizuka found him, leaning against the wall just outside the staff room with a casualness that seemed practiced.
"Yoshioka-san!" She said, a faint smile playing on her lips. "Busy on the weekend? Or are you finally free to let a concerned colleague pester you into a little bit of fun?"
He turned his head, those crimson eyes regarding her with their usual flat neutrality. "I appreciate you invitation, Hiratsuka-sensei," he replied, his voice a calm, low baritone. "However, I have a prior engagement. A… social obligation."
Shizuka's smile tightened almost imperceptibly. She'd been gently, persistently trying to breach his walls for weeks "A social obligation? You? Do tell. Did you finally get a fanclub?"
"Something of that nature," he said, the ghost of a dry smile touching his own lips. Maybe they were, seeing how they were probably investigating every inch of his background, finding out anything that they might have overlooked. He gave a slight, dismissive nod. "Perhaps another time."
He walked off, ending the conversation as cleanly and efficiently as he did everything else.
Shizuka watched him go, a mix of frustration and fascination in her eyes.
'Damn, I hate seeing him go, but I looove watching him leave' Of course, Shizuka's eyes were focused on a specific part of Akira
Akira continued on his way, his path took him toward the main entrance.
And there, he saw her. Yotsuya Miko was frozen just outside her classroom door, her body rigid, her knuckles white where she gripped her bag strap.
Her eyes were wide, fixed on an empty patch of corridor where a faint, shimmering distortion, a pale, weeping thing only she could see, was drifting a little too close to her friend Hana, who was obliviously tying her shoe.
Miko's breath was caught in her throat, a silent scream of terror and helplessness.
Akira's pace didn't break. As he drew level with her, he raised his hand and flicked his wrist.
The shimmering instantly disappearing, erased from existence as he always does with that pest.
Beside him, Miko exhaled a breath of tranquillity, seeing the weight on her friend disappear
Then his hand moved to the breast pocket of his shirt. He withdrew a pair of simple, sleek glasses with thin, black frames. They were non-prescription, the lenses clear glass.
He didn't look at her. He simply held the glasses out to her, his movement so smooth it was almost part of his walking motion.
"Your visual acuity seems strained, Yotsuya-san" he stated, his voice devoid of any emotion, as if commenting on the weather. "These should reduce the glare."
Miko flinched, startled out of her paralysis.
She stared at the glasses, then at his impassive face, then back at where the horrifying apparition was.
Her hand, trembling slightly, reached out and took them.
Her fingers brushed against his, and his skin was cool, like stone.
Almost without thinking, she put them on.
The effect was instantaneous. The small spirits of old men that ran around didn't vanish. But they… blurred. It became a faint, translucent smudge, like an afterimage burned into her vision.
The terrifying details, the hollow eyes, the grasping hands, were softened into meaningless shapes. The oppressive, chilling aura was reduced to a faint static buzz at the edge of her perception. She could still see it, but it no longer held the power to paralyze her with its horror.
She let out a shuddering breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.
Akira had not stopped moving. He was already past her, but his voice, still calm and level, reached her ears
"It is a temporal solution," he said, not turning around. "It will only hide them from your sight. It will not stop them from being attracted to your friend's energy or stop them from existing. But it will allow you ignore them easily"
He paused for a fraction of a second, just enough so that his voice can only be heard by her "The world is full of those things, Yotsuya-san. Even here in the school, they could be hundreds hidden away everywhere" He then raised his hand, and snapped his fingers. Everything, from the small old men, to the locker screechers vanished. Leaving everything in a still silence that she hasn't felt in a long time "I will try to keep the school as clean as possible, but those will help on your way home. Be safe Yotsuya-san"
And then he continued, saluting Hana and she greeted the teacher on his way out, turning the corner and disappearing from sight, leaving Miko standing in the hallway, her world suddenly, miraculously, made just a little bit more bearable.
She touched the frame of the glasses, a profound, bewildered relief washing over her. It wasn't a cure. It was a shield. And for now, that was everything.
"Hey Miko-chan, I heard there was a shrine that could fulfil wishes, let's go check it out"
------------------------------
The air here was different.
The cheerful chaos of the school's main entrance faded, replaced by a clinging, greasy silence.
A few blocks in, the streetlights flickered erratically, and the temperature dropped several degrees.
It was the unnatural cold of a spiritual presence, one stronger and more malignant than the usual nuisances. It was close to the school, and that's why he decided to take care of it first before going home.
Lumbering from a narrow alley was a Cursed Spirit.
It was a grotesque patchwork of mismatched, weeping eyes and too many limbs, all twitching with a frantic, hateful energy. It was a Grade 2, perhaps even a semi-Grade 1.
It radiated a potent miasma of despair and rage, the accumulated negativity of a forgotten, suffering place
It hadn't noticed him yet; it was too busy scraping its claws against a brick wall, leaving behind streaks of ectoplasmic slime that only those with sight could truly see
Akira stopped. His gaze turning to the grotesque spirit that moved and dragged around the alley
This was a higher grade of pest than he usually bothered with. But it was still just that, pest
The spirit sensed him. Its multitude of eyes swivelled in his direction, focusing on the lone, still figure. It let out a wet, gurgling shriek and launched itself forward, a blur of malice and claws.
Akira didn't move. He simply raised his right hand, index finger extended.
The spirit was mere feet from him, its foul breath a physical pressure, its claws reaching for his face.
Akira made a small, almost lazy flicking motion with his wrist.
There was no sound. No flash of light. No burst of energy.
The Cursed Spirit simply ceased to be.
The oppressive, freezing aura that had accompanied it vanished, leaving the alley feeling startlingly clean. The flickering streetlights stabilized.
Akira lowered his hand. He adjusted the cuff of his shirt with a slight, fastidious motion, as if brushing off a speck of dust, and continued his walk home.
The entire encounter had taken less than two seconds
He decided to check around and deal with any other pest that might appear on his way to the school.
Maybe that will help his student be a little bit more at peace
As they say, the work of a teacher in never done
----------------------------
(?'s POV)
In a dim, secluded room far from the city's heart, he frowned. Before him, a complex, hand-drawn map of the city was spread across a low table.
Small, carved Cursed Spirit figures were placed at various points, their purpose to track the movements and status of the Cursed Spirits he had been strategically releasing. All for the sake of watching over some of the investors on his...business
So, he designed this to see the cursed spirits he had distributed all around Chiba.
Or more accurately, the ones that were supposed to still be there.
He picked up one of the figures, a twisted little thing representing a potent Semi-Grade 1 spirit he'd released near the industrial district just that morning.
The wood felt inert. Dead. The connection had been severed
His phone buzzed. A message from one of his followers, a low-level curse user who acted as a scout for him
'Area sweeps complete. No sign of the Festering Eye spirit. No residual energy. No signs of a fight. It's just… gone. Like the others'
His frown deepened.
This was the fourth one this week. Not weaklings, either.
Curse spirits with real potential, placed to stir up fear, to test Jujutsu High's response times, to watch over certains parts of the city.
He had initially suspected Satoru. His former friend had a habit of making problems disappear with overwhelming force
But this… this was different.
It would be easy to see if Satoru was the cause of this. His own cursed energy and power was very distinguishable from others. Specially for him, since he was once his closest friend.
But it wasn't him, otherwise his own windows, just high above those monkeys but not quite sorcerers, would have recognized him.
"This is becoming a pattern," He murmured to himself, his voice a low, displeased rumble in the quiet room. He picked up another inert Cursed Spirit figure "Whoever or whatever they are, are just messing with my plans"
He stared at the map, his mind working.
This wasn't the work of the Jujutsu establishment. Their methods were brutish, loud, and usually left a mess, unless of course you were Gojo Satoru, but even he had his moments of property damage
This was something else.
A new player was on the field. One with a methodology he couldn't comprehend. And they were actively, silently, cleaning up his messes
A slow, dangerous smile spread across his face. It wasn't a smile of joy, but of cold, sharp interest.
"How intriguing," he whispered, his eyes glinting in the dim light. "Another one in the shadows. Let's see how you handle a much, much bigger mess"
His eyes gleamed to the school that was around the area.
'Soubu High School'
-----------------------------------
(Thousands of Years Ago)
(?'s POV)
The sky was a weeping canvas of violet and ochre, stained by the smoke of countless pyres on what had been once been a city.
The modern structures of Kuoh Town were now little more than jagged teeth jutting from a jawbone of shattered concrete and twisted steel.
The air itself was dead, heavy with the coppery tang of blood, the acrid sting of ozone from shattered spells, and the cloying, sulfuric reek of annihilated corpses. This was the absolute end of things, the silence that follows the last, fading echo.
In the epicenter of the destruction, centred in the crater that was once the courtyard of Kuoh Academy, Rias Gremory lay pinned to the earth.
A blade of shimmering, concentrated magic was stabbed through her chest, having pierced one lung and missed her heart by a calculated centimetre.
It was a wound designed not for immediate death, but for a slow, agonizing suffocation. The weapon didn't bleed; it passively unmade the flesh and spirit around it, creating a horrifying, void-black cavity in her torso.
Each desperate, shuddering breath she drew was a wet, ragged affair, causing her to choke on the blood rapidly filling her lungs.
The Crimson-Haired Ruin Princess, the prized heiress of the Gremory, was reduced to a gasping, broken thing, her brilliant hair a matted banner of crimson against the grey dust of ashes that surrounded her.
Then, a sound. A clear, calm baritone, utterly dissonant with the surrounding horror, cutting through the suffocating silence. It was a cheerful, almost jaunty tune.
"Total Slaughter~ Total Slaughter~"
The voice grew nearer, accompanied by the soft, rhythmic crunch of boots stepping over powdered bone and melted glass with an infuriating casualness.
"I won't leave, a single man alive~"
A figure coalesced from the swirling ash and smoke.
His hair was the colour of polished platinum-white, untouched by the filth that coated everything else.
His clothing was pristine, a stark and insulting contrast to the universal carnage. His eyes, a deep crimson, scanned the absolute devastation with the detached curiosity of an art critic in a new gallery.
"La Di La Di La~ Genocide~ La Di La Di Die~ An Ocean of Blood~"
He stepped directly over the bisected, smouldering remains of her knight, not even affording it a glance, as if it were a crack in the pavement.
"Let's begin, the killing time~"
He finished the morbid little song just as he came to a halt a few paces from Rias.
He looked down at her, his head cocking to the side. A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips. It wasn't a smile of triumph or cruelty, but one of clinical interest.
"Well now," The man murmured, his voice a flat, analytical instrument that seemed to absorb her dying whimpers. "Still clinging to the land of the living. A testament to your devil stamina, I suppose. Or perhaps it's your plot-armour trying to maintain some lasts kegs of hope. And you have two big amounts of plot" He nodded to himself
Rias' vision swam, darkness encroaching at the edges.
But she could see him. The impossible calm. The absolute absence of malice or rage. He regarded her not as a conquered foe, but as a mildly interesting specimen.
"W... why...?" She managed to force out. The word was less a question and more a bloody gurgle, a final bubble of air and life escaping her ruined lung. It was the only thing left to ask as her world had been utterly unmade in the span of a single, afternoon hour.
The man's faint smile didn't waver. He took a slow, contemplative step around her, his hands clasped behind his back as if he were a professor lecturing a particularly dim student.
"Why? A simple question. The answer is equally simple, I'm afraid: Because I could."
He paused, letting the sheer, horrifying simplicity of it hang in the blood-soaked air.
"I wanted to see how many levels I could get by destroying a full world. This world, with its amusingly plot where everything existed, Dragons, Gods, Angels, Devils, presented itself as a particularly efficient farming ground. This is the third one I have been, you see. The first two were… messier affairs. I'm refining my process. Optimizing the grind, as it were."
His gaze swept over the ruins of the school, the town, the very world itself, which was beginning to fray at the edges like old cloth. He was speaking to himself as much as to her, organizing his thoughts.
"And it led me to observe all this world had to offer. Apart from being part of it, of course. Which I have already done. But more importantly, to see the social dynamics. The romance. If you can call it that" He said the word with a subtle distaste, as if describing a mildly unpleasant smell. "It's all so... straightforward. Almost tediously predictable. It operates on a singular, primal axis: power."
He stopped his pacing and looked down at her again, a flicker of genuine anthropological curiosity in his eyes.
"Take you, for instance. You are the prime example. Your entire romantic paradigm was a transaction based on a power dynamic. You were bound to a, in your own opinion, and womanizer that only wanted you for your body, someone you despised. The solution? Not negotiation, not compromise, not building a life of your own. No. The solution was to find a stronger male to defeat him for you. And voilà, love blossoms. It's not about intellect, shared values, or genuine compassion. It's pure, unadulterated Darwinian selection. The strongest mate wins the prize. You are, without a single doubt, one of the easiest women I've encountered across the vast multiverse, and that is saying something considering the sheer, staggering volume of tragically written female characters I've had the profound pleasure of meeting, including many different versions of you"
Rias tried to form another word, another denial, but her body had nothing left. Only a weak, wet rattle escaped her throat. The pain was fading, replaced by a cold numbness. The light in her beautiful amethyst eyes was guttering out.
The man continued, his monologue uninterrupted by her silent suffering. "It's why the original outcome was so pathetically written. Your destined saviour, the boy you were written to fall for… someone whose most notable pre-plot achievement was a proficiency in using his own hand, roughly a dozen times a day. The absolute baseline of a virgin, the ultimate self-insert in many ways. That, truly, is the lowest bar imaginable. Literally any alternative, any variable introduced into the system, be it a slightly different personality, a modicum of genuine ambition, or someone else entirely, is better, way better than whatever you ended up with"
He finally paused, ready to deliver his final line. He turned to face her fully, expecting perhaps to see the last spark of understanding or hatred fade from her eyes.
"And that is why I consider this world the "Easy Mode" of romance. Not only you, many of this world are like that- For example, your supposed best friend, just tell her "I accept you for who you are" and the Daddy-Issues instantly falls in love with them. Trust me, almost every woman in this world has the emotional deep of an unbaked potato" He sighed, as if exasperated from the world itself "Not that it matters to you now, of course—"
He stopped. His faint smile vanished, replaced by a blank, almost puzzled expression.
The light had already fled. Her eyes were glassy, fixed and unseeing on the hellish sky above. A single tears failing to escape from the corner
She had died in the middle of his speech, her final question unanswered, her story ended not with a bang or a whimper, but with the indifferent analysis of a being so far beyond her comprehension that her existence was merely a line of a book to be commented on
He stared for a long, silent moment at the corpse of the Crimson-Haired Ruin Princess.
"Huh" He grunted, a soft exhalation of air. The sound was absurdly ordinary in the absolute silence. "I guess I overestimated your own resilience. Then I guess the damage I caused must have been off" He shrugged, a casual, effortless motion. "Welp, it's no biggie. You can't always find a worthy audience for my critiques on the genre of Harem Anime"
He knelt down, his movements efficient and devoid of any reverence. He reached out and used two fingers to gently brush her eyelids closed. It wasn't an act of respect, but one of fastidiousness; he found the empty, staring gaze aesthetically displeasing.
He gave her still form a final, clinical assessment.
"See you around, Easy Mode."
He stood up, absently flicking a single, invisible speck of ash from his immaculate sleeve. He turned his gaze away from the ruins, away from the corpse, upward to the bleeding sky where he could see beyond the fabric of that reality.
Two colossal, draconic presences stirred in the Dimensional Gap.
"Only Ophis and Great Red remain" He murmured to himself, a new checklist already forming in his mind. His voice was already losing interest in this world, looking ahead to the next challenge. "And then the Machine Gods, I guess. Should be a more engaging fight"
And with that, he took a step forward.
The world around him, the ruins, the corpses, the entire destruction of thousands of innocents ignored as casually as a forgotten draft. He was already moving on to the next page, the next battle, the next experiment.
The ocean of blood was already drying behind him, forgotten.