Disclaimer: I own nothing, this is purely a fanfic for enjoyment.
Cross-over from various games, books, anime, manga, and movies.
The familiar characters you see here belong to their respected authors and owners.
"Speech"
Time*
Chapter 48: Courting Death
An hour later*
I let out a yawn as I finished checking the medicine stocks. The cabinets were organized, supplies were accounted for, and not a single student needed emergency treatment.
Momoyo was out scouting the school grounds again, busy beating up any unfortunate male who dared approach her with impure intentions. That left me alone in the infirmary, surrounded by sterile silence and the scent of antiseptic.
Crap. Now I'm bored.
I hadn't expected this, and it didn't bode well. Whenever boredom set in, strange ideas crept into my head—some so alien and vivid that I wasn't sure if they were my own or whispers seeded by the Cards of Blasphemy.
Still, one thought refused to leave me. I needed to test something… a very reckless, possibly suicidal test.
First things first: I constructed the Wall of Spirituality, shielding myself somewhat from external influences. The protective barrier shimmered briefly before settling into place.
With the foundation secured, I shifted over to the Black Emperor Pathway, then layered on the Justiciar Pathway. So far, nothing felt out of place—no backlash, no rejection. That was good. It confirmed that I could handle two of the standard 22 Pathways simultaneously.
Now for the moment of truth.
I invoked the Chaos Mist Pathway, without relinquishing the other two. A reckless move, bordering on forbidden.
Three Pathways. A Triple Pathways Beyonder.
A sharp breath caught in my throat as a cascade of new information flooded my mind—innate knowledge of the Chaos Mist Pathway.
Chaos Mist Pathway - Sequence 9: Broker
Brokering: They can facilitate transactions and exchanges through their words and connections. Before reaching a deal, they will agree on a price with both parties, and sometimes no remuneration is required. It's mainly to establish and maintain relationships. They become more attuned to their specific needs and are able to find the suitable candidates needed in order to fulfill those needs and requirements. The main purpose of this ability is to establish and maintain connections, which does not involve any supernatural ability.
Gray Perception: They can more acutely sense the Gray Domain between white (Order) and black (Disorder).
Exceptional Eloquence: They possess a mastery of language, which, as a side effect, endows them with the ability to decipher others' emotions through observance of their facial expressions and words.
However, that wasn't the end.
I felt it—an intense, invisible force latching onto my soul. It bound me to the Sefirot: Nation of Disorder, a gravitational pull that resonated through the chain-like bond linking the three Pathways I now held. The connection wasn't merely symbolic but alive, pulsing with mysterious significance. In response, the abilities granted by the Black Emperor, Justiciar, and Chaos Mist Pathways surged, refined, and enhanced to a frightening degree.
More than that, I gained limited access to three distinct authorities: Order, Disorder, and Contract. All I needed was to release a wisp of smoke from the Nation of Disorder, or use anything touched by its aura, and I could channel those powers directly.
Curious, I rubbed my chin thoughtfully, then reached for a pen on the desk. With focus, I cloaked it in a thin sliver of smoke drawn from the Nation of Disorder, then imbued it with the essence of Disorder.
The transformation was immediate.
The pen twisted and warped, its form contorting until it no longer resembled the mundane object it once was. Angles bent impossibly, and its structure defied logic, like something sculpted by madness itself.
I felt a pull on my Spirituality. Not overwhelming, but noticeable. Then again, I'd only used a pen for the experiment—a minor sacrifice.
Thankfully, as a Triple Pathways Beyonder, my Spirituality reserves were vast—almost monstrous in scale for a Sequence 9.
Still, it was a clear warning: using the Sefirot's authorities, even in a limited form, came with a price of using up Spirituality, just like any other Beyonder's abilities.
I tore down the Wall of Spirituality and casually tossed the twisted pen into the Nation of Disorder. Leaving it out in the open would only draw unwanted attention and possibly worse. Anything with the aura of a Sefirot wasn't something you left lying around.
The infirmary was silent again, and I looked around, once more struck by the sheer monotony of it all. A dangerous realization dawned on me: boredom, in my case, was a threat. A subtle, creeping danger. I was starting to walk the same razor's edge that Klein once danced along in Lord of the Mysteries—courting death, madness, and the unknown with alarming regularity.
Yet, just like Klein, I'd survived… and more than that, I'd gained power. Something new. Something unprecedented.
That thought stirred a deeper curiosity.
What if I could replicate this with other Sefirot? Equip all the Pathways tethered to a specific Sefirot, just as I had done with the Nation of Disorder? If that were possible, then even at Sequence 9, I could access a staggering array of abilities most Beyonders couldn't dream of without having to be driven into madness in the end.
I rubbed my chin, lost in dangerous thoughts, until I realized the irony of that thought. So, I cloaked myself in the smoke of the Nation of Disorder… and imposed Order upon myself.
The effect was immediate.
A chilling calm washed over me, deeper and more mysterious than anything I had experienced in either of my lifetimes. My thoughts, once chaotic and scattered, aligned into clean, logical patterns.
"I see..." I muttered under my breath, eyes narrowing as I scanned the room with renewed clarity.
Everything looked different now.
I began evaluating the infirmary with cold efficiency—what was useful, what was not, what could be improved or weaponized. My mind naturally drifted toward optimization and strategy. Clutter, once ignorable, now felt like an insult to structure. Disorganization became an eyesore. I wanted to fix it. No—I needed to.
However, the door slid open before I could begin reorganizing anything—abrupt, unwelcome.
A group of delinquents stood in the doorway, their postures cocky, their expressions ranging from smug to apathetic.
"Silent." I ordered, my voice low but firm. The command wasn't just verbal—I subconsciously use Order as a hint of Nation of Disorder's smoke spread out and touching the delinquents, amplifying the instruction. Their idle chatter and foot-shuffling ceased instantly. Not quiet—silent. As if the very air had frozen. "Get in here. Close the door."
They obeyed without protest. Four in total. Their movements lacked hesitation, their faces carefully blank. Strangers. None of them sparked recognition in me. Not that it mattered. They weren't important yet.
I let a breath pass, letting the silence stretch just long enough to remind them who held control here.
"Each of you, state your reason for coming." I said coldly, my gaze sharp. I extended a finger and pointed to the one furthest left from my perspective. "Start with you. Then the one to your left. Continue in order."
They straightened slightly under my gaze, posture snapping into something resembling discipline, though the unease in their eyes betrayed their nerves.
"We're here to check on who the new nurse is gonna be and whether she's gonna be a woman or not!" The first one blurted, words tumbling out in a rush like he thought speed would protect him.
I shifted my eyes to the second. He cracked under the pressure instantly.
"I just came along for the same reason, but I'm hoping it's a hot nurse!" He added with too much enthusiasm, his voice rising like a bad punchline.
I stared at the third. He tried to hold my gaze, then quickly looked away.
"I was gonna steal some meds if the nurse wasn't here." He mumbled, then stiffened when he realized how blunt that sounded.
Finally, my eyes fell on the last delinquent. He straightened like a soldier under interrogation.
"I-I actually need stomach meds!" He yelled, as if volume could prove sincerity.
I didn't say anything right away.
The silence returned—unnatural, heavy, almost oppressive—still fueled by my lingering use of Order.
"You three. Leave. Now. You—grab the stomach meds you need, then scram." I said coldly, my voice sharp and unblinking.
They didn't need to be told twice.
The three delinquents bolted, practically tripping over one another as they yanked the door open and fled down the hallway, not sparing a glance for the one left behind.
The remaining student moved quickly, but not recklessly. He was familiar with the infirmary—his eyes went straight to the correct cabinet. Under my watchful gaze, he retrieved just enough for a single dosage, no more than an adequate amount. Then, without a word, he returned the box precisely where he found it and rushed off, clearly relieved he wasn't grouped with the others.
Silence returned once more.
With a quiet breath, I released the influence of Order, allowing the smoke of the Nation of Disorder to dissipate from around my body. The oppressive clarity faded, and along with it came a dull throb behind my eyes.
"Hm… it seems they couldn't even see the smoke." I muttered, rubbing my chin as the lingering headache settled in.
The sudden absence of that compulsive urge to organize everything left the room feeling… off-kilter. Disordered, yes, but now tolerable. Barely. I turned my attention inward.
Most likely, Spirit Vision is required to see the Nation of Disorder's smoke.
Even with the headache dulling my thoughts, boredom begins creeping in again, persistent, gnawing at the edges of my mind.
Shit.
Whose brilliant idea was it to make me a high school nurse? An unlicensed one at that?
I sigh and open the infirmary door, only to catch a flash of motion—Momoyo sprinting past me in a blur. No explanation, no warning. Just her, tearing through the corridor like a human hurricane.
I blink.
"…Right. It was Tesshin." I mutter under my breath. "Why the hell did I agree to this again?"
I glance down the hallway just in time to catch the last glimpse of Momoyo before she disappears around the corner. My eyes instinctively follow the sway of her legs and her butt.
"…Oh yeah." I mutter, a slow, sage-like nod following. "I remember now. Worth it."
With that affirmation, I close the door behind me and step out into the hallway, my steps casual, hands in pockets, curiosity steering my direction. I keep all three Pathways: Black Emperor, Justiciar, and Chaos Mist equipped for now. Everything still feels stable, so I might as well keep the advantages.
Still… my mind drifts.
What would happen if I tried equipping Pathways: Fool, Error, and Door simultaneously? Unlike the others, I didn't summon their corresponding Sefirot through a Card of Blasphemy. Instead, I entered the Sefirah Castle the same way Klein did.
So, with no anchor card to act as a control mechanism, stacking those three Pathways could very well lead to madness, reality distortion… or something far worse.
Anything could happen.
And somehow, that idea excites me more than it scares me.
On another note, I really should consider making use of the other Pathways, especially since I've already obtained more than one Sefirot through the Cards of Blasphemy.
It would be a waste not to experiment. Each Sefirot boosts the abilities of its connected Pathways far beyond their normal Sequence limits. If the Nation of Disorder alone could grant me access to Order, Disorder, and Contract authorities in a limited fashion, then who knows what the others might unlock?
And if I can maintain multiple Pathways from a single Sefirot… what happens if I do that across several Sefirot at once?
That thought sends a shiver down my spine, equal parts dread and anticipation.