nekonyamicon

Chapter 235 - For the Record

Added 2025-07-28 12:39:00 +0000 UTC

How dare they!?

I drift across the empty hallway - empty because of course it is, my classmates actually need sleep. I, however, as a superior being, do not.

And yet Headmaster Owyn, in his ‘wisdom’, failed to see my true potential and consigned me to this place.

A demon lord? Really? Me, a greater seraph? I’d stomp my feet if I either had them or needed to touch the ground to move!

I’ll show them though. I’ll show them all. They’ll see.

I’ll be the one to do it - to finally unite all peoples and all planes. All under my banner, one will, one purpose.

An end to war.

An end to suffering and strife.

Yes, they’ll see. They’ll see indeed.

And then a voice interrupts my midnight musings.

“Omroneon… how many times do I need to tell you? Please return to your room. Plenty of your classmates have sensory Skills that allow them to hear your muttering, you’re likely keeping them awake. And even if that weren’t the case, academy regulations include a curfew. You know this!”

“Frail mortal rules do not confine me!” I snap back, but the dorm mother isn’t deterred.

Instead the maid replies, “Do not make me repeat myself.”

…

“Yes ma’am.,” I mumble dejectedly.

“Good. Let us not repeat this conversation.”

***

“Do you think that idiot is going to be a problem?”

“Hmm,” my second first wife muses, “maybe. But I have a feeling he won’t. Or… is it a he? They? It?”

I shrug, but not enough to dislodge either of my wives, one to each side of me.

Arty, meanwhile, just mumbles something noncommittal and buries her face further into my chest. Which, is fine. There’s plenty of room on the bed, but we always end up like this anyway.

As soon as my little pet hero fell asleep I’d found myself back here as usual, which just freed me up to fall asleep in my own bed.

Well, my own other bed. The one Sadie is in is mine too, my old master bedroom in the portal home. This one is way nicer though. And bigger! I’d even added runes to improve restfulness.

…Optional of course. Sometimes Izzy, uh. Doesn’t want to rest.

Which is also fine.

…

I still haven’t managed that kind of anything for my first first wife, but Livvie doesn’t seem too hung up on it, at least on the surface. She’s definitely got some wistful longing going on though. There are probably ways around it, I’d considered using the words of creation to make some kind of magic happen, but. Well.

She’d probably prefer something that wasn’t just another compulsion.

…

Although… hmm…

Without saying anything or even moving, I start formulating a plan.

A simple one. Simple enough, anyway.

It’s been simple from the beginning, and I can’t believe it took me this long to consider it.

Although…

I wasn’t myself then, so of course I didn’t.

…Or, her? Me? I don’t know. It’s still hard to tell who exactly I am now. Maybe I should have refused Mnemosyne, but it felt like if I had I’d be letting someone I’d depended on, my proverbial mother in a sense, just disappear.

I didn’t want that. It’s strange to think that I’d formed an attachment to my former System Assistant, even if most of what she had to say was some flavor of verbal abuse.

But that was fine.

We were fine, at least for a while.

…

Maybe I’m just remembering the good parts. Which is mostly irrelevant now, since I know how genuinely irritated I was with myself back then.

It’s sure been a long time.

But enough ruminating. It’s strange how much my newer self ruminates where my old crafter self only fixates on major issues… usually things that keep me from crafting if I have an idea.

Like this one.

I was right though… creating prototypes with the words of creation is way easier than trying to do it with tools… although there’s definitely a satisfaction from working with my hands that I just can’t get from the easy way.

But this whole idea is the easy way, isn’t it?

I don’t mind taking the easy way if it’ll make her happy though. I’ve already got an attachment to her, everything short of the physical attraction I share with Izzy from her Mantle’s compulsion, and it’s not like I don’t want that with Livvie too. I absolutely do, for her if not for myself.

I still remember when it came naturally. When it’d developed, even though it had taken years to bloom.

No time like the present though.

…

Within the space of my dimensional storage, I create one of my kin and begin speaking through it, speaking into existence a new definition for an effect: physical attraction toward a person defined by the effect’s instance, while maintaining full agency and autonomy. And as soon as it’s finished, I pull my spare tools and an old metal bangle I’d scavenged from who knows where, and get to work binding them together.

She’s going to be so surprised.

***

Why does everyone have this impression that heroes are supposed to lead the charge? It doesn’t make a lot of sense unless every single one is an, I don’t know… tank of some kind? Like, a normal, traditional tank?

My musing is interrupted by a zombie smacking wetly against my shield, one that’d managed to slip past Joy’s giant sword. There’s so many of them that I’m not really surprised by it, but I wish Lyra would finish her spell faster! I can’t handle them forever!

And right on cue a bolt of force lances across it, removing its head from its shoulders.

…

Now if only that was enough to down a zombie.

“The body, Lyr! You have to break the body!” I frantically shout as I struggle to redirect the now headless shambling corpse as it tries to reach around the runesteel plate. I’ve already shot it a dozen times, but small holes only do so much to them. It’s not like they have a single isolated core!

Or do they? No, I’m pretty sure they don’t…

(Left!)

I throw myself to the side as another two zombies make to grab me from where I’d been only a moment ago. It’s clear that Olive has a lot of experience; she’s an excellent Assistant for this kind of situation in particular, always keeping her eyes open for anything from an enemy attack I’ve overlooked or incoming numbers, even especially good opportunities to catch an otherwise engaged target unawares.

Like right now.

(Joy!) she shouts from my shoulder where the fae fox chooses to sit, and she’s right once again. He’s holding off three of the shambling brutes with the flat of his blade, but they’re starting to push him back.

Well, time to earn my title.

I keep moving to keep the zombies following me at arm’s length as I line up and take the shot. The burst of force pierces through the head of one and continues through a second, staggering them both just enough that my party tank can regain control of his test of strength, pushing back with a roar and sending all three of them reeling. He follows up with a wide lateral sweep, bisecting the entire group before turning to help me mop up the remaining - oh, nevermind. I turn to see that the remaining half dozen that had been chasing me all lay in a line, thoroughly dead. Or, dead again I suppose…

Were dungeon undead ever actually alive though? Are they just created as zombies or whatever?

Oh well. Maybe I’ll ask again later.

Pulling an arrow free from a zombie’s back I smile at my party. “Good work, everyone.”

“Thanks for the assist,” Joy chirps with a big grin despite the disgusting ichor dripping from his face.

And his arms.

And, well. All of him. I didn’t exactly help, considering at least some of the rotten brain matter dangerously close to dripping in his eyes was my doing.

My mage mercifully starts chanting, reading from a small book she keeps for occasions like this that unfortunately have been occasioning far less occasionally than I’d like, especially today in this crappy dungeon.

“We really need to work on our formations,” she grumbles through her focus as the spell completes and the slop starts pooling into a single ball in the air between us, drawing from our skin, fur, and equipment with a sickening slurp. “They almost got to us, and they were nothing but weak mobs.”

“Okay, sure,” I reply, “but there were more than a dozen of them, and there isn’t a lot I can do by just piercing… their… wait, how was Shaya killing them?”

The forest elf just tilts her head before flicking more ichor from a freshly pulled arrow. Because of course, she doesn’t understand me.

I sigh. This is already more difficult than I’d thought it would be, but it is what it is.

Pulling her attention, I quickly point to the corpse, then the arrow, and then make a cutting motion across my throat complete with hanging my tongue out. And then I spread my hands in a questioning gesture, which seems to get across my meaning as she points to something carved into the arrow’s head.

A rune.

A life rune.

She’s using radiant magic with every shot.

Ah, and she’s clearly not done explaining, drawing another arrow from her dimensional storage and pointing to an almost blurry rune in the same place. As she swipes a finger across it, it changes to a fire rune.

…

“Wait, I think I get it! You can pick which one you…”

Ten minutes of walking to the stairs down to the next level consist of me trying to communicate with Shaya at least get me the understanding that yes, she can indeed pick between a handful of damage types for those arrows, though they’re pretty expensive and can only be reused so many times before they break on their own.

Now I just need to understand why exactly Joy keeps smiling like an idiot, while Lyra simply glares impatiently and sighs a lot.

Oh well. It probably doesn’t matter anyway.