*"Five days before the Spiritquake of the start of the anime …"*
The apartment reeked of old blood and mold.
Rain dripped in lazy rhythm through cracks in the ceiling, pattering against the rusting stove she'd dragged to one corner. Every breath was thick with decay, the windows sweating grime as if the building itself wept for being forgotten.
She didn't mind.
The Unknown sat cross-legged on the floor, polishing metal shards that once resembled a mirror. Her bare back rose and fell in slow, labored cadence, skin marked with violet veins that pulsed like a heartbeat outside the body.
She hadn't slept.
Sleep brought visions.
And those weren't *hers*.
---
Inside her mind, a war of whispers stirred.
> "Your structure's unraveling," Kafka said. "If we don't realign the neuro-webbing, the host will collapse."
> "Let it," Sirin purred. "I like the breaking part."
> "It won't matter. Only form matters. We adapt."
> The Unknown God's voice was timeless, a soundless bell echoing through space.
Her fingers twitched. Nails blackened. Then returned to pink.
Muscles stretched, tore, stitched themselves again. Her thighs ached with pressure—unseen growth. She touched her side and flinched. Flesh was shifting. Rewriting itself. **Becoming something else**.
She looked into the cracked metal slivers.
One blink: a white-haired girl with soft red eyes.
Another: A sharp-faced woman with violet glare.
A third: Something… void. Hollow. Eyes like broken galaxies.
"This body doesn't belong to any of you," she whispered.
> "Not true," Kiana said, sulking. "You're us now. Isn't that romantic?"
> "You're *unstable,*" Kafka murmured, annoyed. "You're going to rupture if you don't expel some of it."
A sharp pulse shot through her abdomen.
She cried out, clutching herself. Something **new** had grown. Something *unfamiliar*.
**"You added a cock,"** Kafka hissed.
**"I was curious!"** Kiana chirped. "I wanted to know how it felt!"
The Unknown slammed her fist into the mirror.
The shard cracked further—but her reflection didn't shatter.
It *smiled back*.
---
Then came the knock.
And the silence after.
Outside—the sound of boots.
---
### ✦ Ratatoskr HQ (30 minutes after first contact)
The analyst's voice trembled. "They found her again. Same quadrant. Energy readings are... escalating."
Commander Itsuka narrowed his eyes. "She didn't retreat?"
"No, sir. If anything, she waited. She made no effort to suppress her spirit energy. It's… leaking across dimensional boundaries."
Another analyst chimed in. "We confirmed it. She's a Spirit. But not a born one. Possibly a *constructed* mutation. Her power is reactive… volatile… evolving."
Itsuka folded his arms. "How long since initial manifestation?"
"Thirty-two minutes. She arrived, destroyed the initial AST response, and now she's confronting reinforcements."
On screen, her figure flickered—sometimes girl, sometimes woman, sometimes glitching entity. Her golden eyes pulsed with ringed violet as distortions flared around her.
"She didn't run," Itsuka said softly. "She let us *find* her."
"…She might want to be seen."
---
Rain hit the ruined street, sizzling as it met residual heat and broken space.
The Unknown stood in full view, cloak fluttering like corrupted silk. The crimson sigils she'd left from her last battle were still hanging in the air—runes made of memory, matter, and fractured time.
Another AST unit surrounded her. Heavily armed. But slower. More hesitant.
They remembered what she did.
"Unknown Spirit," the squad leader called, trembling. "You've already resisted extraction. Stand down or we will use force."
Her expression didn't shift. She cocked her head slightly, watching their movements with childlike interest.
"I hope they brought stronger toys," Kiana murmured inside her mind.
"No... I want to test *restraint,*" Kafka's voice whispered. "Let's see if they can handle *precision.*"
"They can't," Sirin giggled. "But they'll make pretty sounds."
*Reality cracked.*
The air folded inward as one soldier vanished into a floating prism—his body twisted inside a kaleidoscope of space-bent blades. No blood. No scream. Just deletion.
Another opened fire.
Her bullets reversed in midair—turned to glass, then to salt, then to *teeth.*
She screamed as they returned to her, embedding into her skin—not fatally, but painfully. Emotionally.
"Intent suppression intact," noted the Unknown God.
Three advanced with riot shields. Kafka's strings shimmered—ruby red lines wrapping ankles, necks, minds.
One began laughing hysterically. Another slumped, whispering her childhood memories. The third knelt and began drawing a picture in the mud—her hand bleeding but steady.
They weren't dead.
Just... rewritten.
---
The last of the AST soldiers had collapsed into the mud—sobbing, shaking, or twitching. Not dead. Not screaming.
Just... *corrupted.*
Each one had been altered in a different way—no pattern, no mercy. One had lost all pigment in her skin. Another spoke only in reversed sentences. The leader now had blackened veins crawling up her throat like vines. Their minds weren't intact, but their bodies were... useful.
The Unknown watched.
Unblinking.
Silent.
Her fingers twitched slightly—she was done here.
The space around her bent—like glass under pressure—and the world folded inward.
No build-up.
No drama.
Just **vanishing.**
---
### ✦ Abandoned Cabin in the Mountains
The wind howled through shattered trees. Snow blanketed everything in sterile silence.
High in the jagged spine of the mountains, a forgotten log cabin stood—half-buried, leaning slightly from decades of frost and storm. No one had lived here in years. Maybe ever.
And then, space twisted again.
*She arrived.*
The Unknown stepped through a tear in reality, barefoot against the creaking floorboards. The cabin groaned as if acknowledging her presence.
She exhaled.
Her energy spread like a virus at first, infecting the room with warmth, static, distortion.
Then she focused.
*Tighten it. Compress. Seal it in.*
She held out her hand, tracing the air. Golden rings spun around her arm as a **localized power-dampening field** formed—a containment shell drawn from dimensional code.
Kafka's voice murmured in her skull. "Suppression spell... crude, but functional."
"It will hold," the Unknown God said coldly. "Long enough."
Sirin giggled. "This place is gross."
Kiana chuckled. "Then we clean."
---
She moved slowly, dragging an old, cracked broom across the floor, pushing aside dust and broken leaves. Cobwebs were seared away with a flick of her finger. Rotten curtains dissolved into threads of light. Books with faded ink were realigned on the shelf—not to read, but for symmetry.
She wasn't trying to make it livable.
Just *less offensive.*
She paused at a cracked mirror.
For a second, all four faces flickered in the glass—Kiana's hunger, Kafka's calculation, Sirin's amusement, and the Unknown God's emptiness.
Then just her.
She stared.
Golden eyes.
Still unfamiliar.
Still wrong.
---
She sat down cross-legged in the center of the room, the silence absolute.
Outside, a storm gathered.
But inside the cabin, her presence was a void.
Untraceable.
Undisturbed.
For now.
---
### ✓ Final Updated Classification:
* **Designation:** UNKNOWN
* **Confirmed Status:** Spirit (Type: Mutation-Class)
* **Time Since Arrival:** 32 Minutes
* **First AST Engagement:** 12 minutes after arrival
* **Second Engagement (Current):** 30-minute mark
* **Consciousness Profile:** Fractured fusion
* **Energy Type:** Multiphase anomaly, cannot be masked
* **Threat Level:** NIGHTMARE CLASS
* **Directive:** OBSERVE ONLY (But likely to escalate)