Happy Birthday! Just in case it's your Birthday.
-0-
Shortly after Rimuru's message, Kaneki landed on a flat rock overlooking the valley and raised his hand.
Blood spiraled out from his fingertips, forming a shape in the air—not a construct, not a weapon. A communication thread, reaching outward through the network of blood he'd spread across the forest. Miles away, a drop of his blood that lived inside Touka responded.
The clone formed beside him in seconds. A perfect replica of Touka, translucent red at the edges, kneeling before he'd even finished speaking.
"Report," Kaneki said.
"Master Ken." Touka's clone kept its head bowed. "The mission is partially complete. I managed to clear approximately forty percent of the hunger-cursed Orcs and convert the remainder to our forces. We now number just over a thousand Blood Orcs." A pause. "However, the Orc Lord Geld and a small contingent of guards escaped before I could reach them. I have been tracking them, but they move faster than anticipated."
She pressed her forehead lower toward the ground.
"I failed to complete the assigned mission. I ask for your forgiveness, Master Ken."
Kaneki looked at her for a moment, his expression unreadable.
"Don't grovel," he said. "It's inefficient. Groveling doesn't undo mistakes, it just delays fixing them."
Touka's clone straightened slightly, uncertain.
"The Orc Lord has appeared at the goblin settlement," Kaneki continued. "Head there and finish the job. If you can convert him, do it. If not, kill him and his guards cleanly."
"Understood, I will—"
"THANATOS." A voice crackled through the pact bond, sharp with barely contained panic wrapped in a layer of forced casualness. "Hey. So. Quick update. The Orc Lord isn't exactly here for war. He came to seek sanctuary. And also to ask for help against—" Rimuru's voice dropped into something between bafflement and deeply reluctant amusement— "what he's calling an emissary of the God of Death."
Kaneki stared at the middle distance.
Then he started laughing.
It came out quietly at first, just a breath, then a genuine laugh that he didn't entirely expect. An Orc Lord. Driven to seek sanctuary from his own servant. An Orc army, reduced to refugees by a girl he'd created two weeks ago and named after a memory.
"Rimuru," Kaneki said, composing himself. "Take them in. Lock them up somewhere secure. Don't let them leave."
"Lock them up? They came peacefully—"
"They came scared. There's a difference. Keep them contained and comfortable until my representative arrives." He cut the pact bond before Rimuru could object further.
He looked at Touka's clone. "You heard that."
"Yes, Master Ken."
"Go to the settlement. Try to convert the Orc Lord first. Talk to him, explain what we're building, give him the option to join willingly." Kaneki's tone didn't shift much, but it became slightly more precise. "But if he refuses, or if he poses a threat to the settlement, kill him and his entire guard. No survivors who aren't converted."
Touka's clone nodded. Then she hesitated.
Kaneki noticed. "What?"
"When will I see you next? In person, I mean. Not through the blood connection."
The question was asked quietly, with a slight ducking of the head that was more shy than submissive. It was a very Touka gesture, which was simultaneously understandable given the memories he'd accidentally transferred and slightly disconcerting.
"I'll be occupied for several weeks at minimum," Kaneki said. "You have your mission and you have an army. You don't need me present to function."
"No," she agreed. "I don't need it."
The distinction between needing and wanting went unspoken. Kaneki let it stay that way.
"Go," he said.
The clone dissolved, blood retreating back into the air and vanishing.
Kaneki stood alone on the rock for a moment, looking out over the valley. Then he pulled the Dullahan skull from his Predator storage, held it in both hands and studied it, set it on the rock beside him, and sat down cross-legged.
Blood rose around him in thin threads and crystallized, forming a diamond dome that sealed him inside completely. From outside it would look like a giant crimson gem had appeared in the valley.
"Great Sage," he said. "New problem."
[Acknowledged. You are referring to the skill saturation issue.]
"The dungeon gave me a lot." Kaneki flexed his hands, and he could feel it—a kind of internal crowding, skills and abilities packed so densely that some of them were interfering with each other. Forty floors of undead, consumed and absorbed. Skeletons, zombies, ghouls, wraiths, all with variations and sub-types. Too many skills doing too many similar things. "I feel bloated."
[Accurate description. Current skill redundancy analysis: 47 skills have significant overlap with existing abilities. 31 skills are minor variants of each other. 12 skills could be merged into superior composite abilities. 4 skills are genuinely unique acquisitions from the dungeon. Recommendation: Consolidation.]
"Can you do it?"
[Yes. However, the process requires Master to remain stationary and in a meditative state while the consolidation occurs. Estimated time: three weeks minimum.]
Kaneki's expression went flat. "Three weeks."
[Affirmative. Skill merger at this scale is not a passive process. The magicule restructuring required is substantial.]
"I'd have to sleep for three weeks."
[Or enter a deep meditative state. The distinction is minimal in practical terms.]
Kaneki picked up the Dullahan skull and looked at it. The cracked crown had shifted slightly during the dungeon conquest, sitting even more lopsided now. The death energy within the skull pulsed slowly, like a second heartbeat.
During the dungeon fight, he'd used death energy—absorbed it, been hit by it, turned it back on the Dullahan—but he hadn't controlled it. Not the way he controlled blood magic. It had been a tool he was using blindly, like trying to paint with his fist instead of a brush.
Death energy was potent. Which was why the Death Scythe was hard to control. More potent than blood magic in certain applications. If he could learn to shape it, direct it, use it with the same precision he used blood magic—
"I'm not sleeping for three weeks," he said. "I'll meditate instead. Properly. And while the skill merger runs passively, I'll use the time to study this."
He held up the skull.
[The Dullahan's skull contains concentrated death energy equivalent to the dungeon's core output. Studying it is theoretically possible but carries risk. Death energy in concentrated form can cause cellular necrosis even in highly resistant beings.]
"Then I'll be careful." Kaneki set the skull in front of him, at the center of his cross-legged position. "Begin the skill merger. Queue everything below Unique rank that has overlap. Run it in the background."
[Confirmed. Skill consolidation initiated. Background process active. Warning: Master will experience mild disorientation during the process as magicule pathways are restructured. This is normal.]
Kaneki closed his eyes and let his awareness sink inward.
Elsewhere, in a field 90 kilometers east of the goblin settlement's walls, Touka stepped out of her tent.
The army was already assembled.
A thousand Blood Orcs stood in formation, their converted bodies radiating controlled power compared to the mindless shambling they'd been capable of before. They'd retained the Orc resilience and raw physical strength but shed the hunger curse entirely, their eyes clear and intelligent where they'd once been yellowed and dull.
At the front of each squad, the Blood Orc Captains Touka had promoted based on demonstrated competence stood at attention. Former Orc Generals whose tactical ability had survived conversion better than most.
Touka looked at them. All of them, looking back at her.
An Orc artisan—one of the few craftsmen in the group, a thickset female who'd been a weapon-maker before conversion—approached with something bundled under her arm.
"The flag is finished, General Touka," she said, holding it out.
Touka unwrapped it.
The fabric was deep black, clearly repurposed from Orc battle standards, re-dyed with Blood Orc magic to hold a color that wouldn't fade. At its center, in stark red, was the insignia she'd commissioned some days ago—a skull wearing a cracked crown, crossed behind it with two death scythes. The design was clean, precise, and unmistakably connected to the being who'd created them.
"Wave it," Touka said.
The artisan handed it to a flag-bearer, who immediately raised it on a staff and let it unfurl in the morning wind.
The skull and scythes caught the light.
Touka faced her army.
"We march to the settlement of the slime administrator," she said, her voice carrying across the formation. The Ukaku kagune at her back spread slightly as she spoke, the red and blue crystals catching light. "Our objective: the Orc Lord Geld and his guard, who are currently detained there. Lord Thanatos has given his order. We offer them the choice of conversion and loyalty, or we offer them nothing."
The army was silent, listening.
"We are the Red Order," Touka continued. "We are the instrument of Lord Thanatos's will in this forest. Every enemy of his authority is our enemy. Every ally of his nation is our ally." She paused. "And every Orc still under the hunger curse is our responsibility—either we bring them to our side, or we end their suffering. There is no third option."
She turned and began walking west.
"Move out."
The Red Order moved.