>>6142153

Betty- or more accurately, whatever errant piece of your soul is puppeting her body, places a warm hand on your cheek, delicately holding it as she continues her speech: “I’m really sorry things had to be this way.”

“W-what way?- and you still haven’t told me who, or even WHAT you are,” you spit back, recoiling from her touch and stepping away from the maid.
The melancholy in her eyes persists, the makings of tears forming at their edges, “I want to help you. And not just superficially, I want to bring you back, I guess. Or out. Doesn’t really matter which.”

“Great. So, you’re gonna help me find some way home?”

She shakes her head, “I want you to be better. Better than Atë. Otherwise..” she chokes on her words, her sentence trailing off as its end as she takes a moment to let out a shaky breath and steel her resolve, “Otherwise I’m going to have to keep you here.”

“Are you insane!” You shout, closing the distance between you and the so-called ghost again, “Are you trying to get us both killed!”

“If that’s what it takes.” She answers, “Besides, I’ve been dead for a long time.”

“You crazy bitch.” You begin to pace around the room, the anxiety beginning to claw at your chest, a cavernous void only growing wider and wider as you continue to reflect on the situation- if a piece of your impetus big enough to manifest itself like this is trying to keep you trapped here, you might never be able to get home.

“This really isn’t the time for this.” You complain, staring daggers into Betty’s back.

“This is the first, and, well, probably only time I’ll ever have for this.” She answers without turning to face you. You suppose she knows where you are, regardless.

>Try to crush the Ghost
>Ignore the Ghost and wait
>Introspect
>Try to negotiate
>Write-in

>>6142154
>Try to crush the Ghost
You want to die so bad then do it alone. I’ll even help you along.

>>6142154
>Introspect
Call me curious, but I thought we'd unearthed all our traumas

>>6142154
>Write-in
Wake up the 'sleeping' Betty with a kiss.

If you make out with a part of yourself which has taken over Betty's body is it incest? Very Olympian.

>>6142154
>>Introspect
my mind goes to Jane. A piece of soul that was grafted onto ours, and now that the system is not here it doesn't suppress the individuality of those souls anymore, or something like that.
but desu, we might just assume it's a part of our own soul, and not some other thing, like a god of this white world. there's a chance we meet some.

anyway, can we stop being rude to unknown things we're meeting? aren't we supposed to be a master manipulator now?

we also still need to figure out what our protag wants. we want to play videogames and make music. make and enjoy art. to be our own god, we eventually have to leave the moniker Atë behind. What we are doesn't map onto a long dead religion, we're more than that

>>6142154
>Try to crush the Ghost

>>6142429
It's definitely possible that our desire to spare Jane protected some piece of her from total absorption and annihilation.

I suspect that attempting to crush is going to fail, if it were weak enough for that I think we wouldn't be having this problem.

>>6142154
>Introspect

>>6142154
>Introspect

>>6142154
>Introspect

>>6142154
>Introspect

>>6142154
>Ignore the Ghost and wait

Wow, lots of votes

6 for introspect (some not mentioned directly to dodge the spamblock)
>>6142245
>>6142429

2 to crush
>>6142176
>>6142436

And 1 write-in
>>6142265

>Introspect

You scoff at the petulant maid, closing your eyes to enter your soulscape.

As you open your <Eyes> the crisis is obvious. Red water defies gravity, trickling upwards in streams, like droplets running down the rim of an overfilled cup. The water evaporates into steam as it reaches towards the dimming sunset sky, crimson clouds fizzling into dust as the hostile reality of this place annihilates them- annihilates you.

The sea is turbid, writhing like a swarm of insects as wretched screams gurgle up from the surface. Though pulverized, the souls are awake. Fortunately, none of them are whole enough, nor concentrated enough in its <Impetus> to break the surface tension and emerge from the chaotic sanguine waters.

None, of course, but one.

Shimmering in the lambent light of the setting sun, refracting its rays against its golden hide and seeming almost incandescent as it looks down on you from its perch atop the ocean itself, stands a massive golden stag- no, not a stag.

“Jane.” You say, a complicated expression on your face as you see her again for the first time since her passing.

“Hello, .” She replies, her melancholy voice carrying across your world without her mouth ever even opening, “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

"T-this is impossible." Your voice quivers as you recoil backwards at the sight of her. You expected her, somewhat, but the shock still overwhelms you.

"Maybe." She laughs. Fuck, you remember her laugh.

>”How are you here?”
>”Why aren’t you upset with me?”
>”You can’t be real.”
>Attack her
>Leave
>Write-in

>>6142737
>"It was fun killing you, but if I knew you would be this much of a pain in the ass I would have let you live."

>>6142737

> So...mario kart?

Joking! Joking!

>"This isn't one of those turn me from evil sort of things is it? Because Jane, I'm bad. It's terminal. It's deep, deep, deep to the core. Grab a shovel, we'll say hi to Atë.

>>6142737
>"I know when I'm being baited, but sure, I'll bite. How did you keep your individuality in there?"
>”Why aren’t you upset with me?”
Still thinking QM doesn't want us to go full evil, with a side dish of called it

>>6142737
>”Why aren’t you upset with me?”
>Write-in
"Whats it like being inside me?"

>>6142764
>>6142766
>>6143020
>>6143065

>”Why aren’t you upset with me?”


“I KILLED you. Even if it didn’t stick.. why aren’t you more vengeful? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You saved me,” she answers, “From being shredded into nothing by the System.”

“..what?”

“I’ve seen enough of you now to know,” she elaborates, “that before you wanted to kill me, you wanted to spare me.”

Your eyes widen, and you release a shaky gasp. You feel your knees weaken beneath you as you recall that night in the woods. You couldn’t bring yourself to- no, that’s selling it short- you CHOSE not to hurt her. Nausea overtakes you for a moment, but a comforting hand on your shoulder brings you back to yourself.

”It’s true.” you- or you suppose Atë- says, ”You had a moment of weakness. You were conflicted. However, you have to ask yourself- how many times did the powers you took from her save your life? <Preservation Instinct> and <Supernatural Speed> have been your lifeline. You would have been burnt to a crisp or beaten into a red paste without doing what you did.”

“And now she’s trying to kill me.” You add.

“That’s right. She doesn’t seem upset, and maybe she isn’t, but that doesn’t change the reality of the situation. She needs to die.”

Without a hint of fear, the hind stares you directly in the eye. Another wrench of emotion assaults you as you recall the fairy tale in the snow-covered woods- a past that wasn’t. You’re a little girl again, fingers shivering with cold and terror gripping a frigid knife. Red water, or what might be blood, trickles down from the deer’s chest and mixes with the ocean beneath her hooves.

>>6143345

“I haven’t changed my mind.” She states, “You and I.. are kindred souls, I think. Of all the people you hurt, all of those lives, you never forgot mine. All this time, knowingly or not, you’ve protected me.”

She approaches you. You limply reach an arm out, placing a hand on her neck just as you did in the little forest clearing on the outskirts of town all those months ago. You can’t bring yourself to crush her throat.

“I still love you. Even though you lied about your name, and your face, and your motives, and, well, everything else there was to lie about, you couldn’t have made me feel like that with a trick. I think- no, I know that we had something important. Maybe it wasn't in the same way that you said you did, but you cared about me. Watching- making- me do what I did, it hurt you too. That’s what I think, anyway.”

“You’re still stupid.” You can only muster an insult.

“Always.” Though she doesn’t have a human face, you can hear the smile in her voice. You feel your flesh begin to melt away like a fresh coat of paint in the rain, inky black muck seeping off of your body and mixing into the sand as your mind goes blank. Once again, you fight the urge to throw up.

”We can’t afford to negotiate,” Atë says, a surprising degree of genuine understanding evident in her tone, ”We need to finish the job.”

"I know it feels good to hurt people. To get back at the world. Even I.." her voice trails off, "Well, um, I've thought about it. A lot. But you have to know that it isn't helping you. Every time, it just makes the hole in your chest bigger."

You expect Yourself to intervene, but she remains silent.

>Harden your heart and do what you must
>Decide later
>Write-in

>>6143346
>Harden your heart and do what you must
You should have stayed hidden

>>6143346

> What the hell is supposed to help then!? Because I've been mask after mask after mask and none of them help!

>>6143346
>>6143545
+1
>when you're cycling through mask like I do, it's because you're afraid of what gets revealed when they drop. Will it be this thing? *point at Ate*

>>6143346
>>Write-in
I got an idea. If we want to become a god, "creating life" might be on the todo list.
>Why waste a perfectly good soul that can inhabit our first creation of life?
>This is totally not because we want to save her somehow, nope

>>6143720
Ex Nhilo is probably a bit beyond us, but the classic molded from clay bit probably isn't

>>6143346
>>Harden your heart and do what you must

>>6143460
>>6143545
>>6143561
>>6143720
>>6143804

You tighten your grip around the deer’s neck. Her breathing becomes rugged but, despite the discomfort, Jane never pulls back or allows discomposure to enter her elegant stance. Like a mother waiting for her child to stop a tantrum, she merely allows you to process on your own.

You have to do it.

You have to kill her.

Oily black muck seeps out of your eye sockets, blurring your vision with dark grime, as more and more of you begins to melt away.

”I need to kill you.” You and the goddess speak in unison, ”You need to die.”

Silently, patiently she waits.

“FUCK!” You let her go, slamming your fist into your chest instead. It sinks into it like your entire body was made of slime, “WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO THEN!?”

Jane bends her neck, meeting your gaze directly at an even level instead of looking down on you. Your face feels rigid like porcelain resting atop a surface of inky detritus. Compulsively, you try to pull it off, but no matter the effort, your face, the mask, it won’t budge an inch.

“You know, you said we should go to the beach sometime,” A sentimentality, a reminiscence of better times, leaks from her voice as she turns to look out over the ocean, “You said it was the second most beautiful thing you’d ever seen. Ha, I can still feel how red I got.”

Your memory of your time with Jane is hazy. You can’t recall the specifics. You see her shift back into herself, wearing the very same outfit she did on her last day.

“You can decide on, y'know, my ultimate fate later." She chuckles as she imitates the severe voice of a cartoon supervillain, mocking the very real possibility of her death. "For now, let’s build a sand castle.”

“Are you serious?” You scoff, barely able to maintain a human shape as more and more of you leaks out, “A fucking sand castle?”

“Ha, stupid, right?” She laughs, sauntering over to your melting body and sitting down next to you, “But it sounds fun, right?”

She reaches into the sand, seemingly manifesting the handle of a pail out of nothing. As if it were natural, she pulls out the whole thing, a plastic bucket like the ones you and your friends used at the beach when you were little.

“This one’s for you.” She flashes a genuine grin with a hint of mischief as she hands the yellow bucket over to you. Inside is a small metal trowel, perfect for scooping and shaping sand. “I have dibs on the pink one.”

>”Why not?”
>”I want the pink one.”
>”This is ridiculous.” (Leave for now)
>Write-in

>>6143840
>”Why not?”
Might as well see where this is going.

>>6143840
>”Why not?

>>6143840
>”Why not?”
Wow so happy we're building an imaginary sandcastle as reality itself consumes us.

>>6143859
>>6143865
>>6143872

>”Why not?”

You grab the bucket, clumsily using it to scoop up sand for a parapet. For some reason, the normally anomalous texture of the sand becomes normal as you dig at it with the pail.

Once you fill it, you turn it over. However, the sand collapses into an unshapely mound instead of the cylinder you wanted. Jane smugly creates a perfect tower right next to your failed one. “You gotta pack the sand better.” She instructs, slowly carving little windows into the sides of the bucket mold tower.

You grumble, begrudgingly following her instructions as you complain.

“This is a complete waste of time. I’m dying as we speak and I’m making imaginary sand castles.”

She shakes her head. “Not imaginary. Where do you think we are?”

“My soulscape.”

“That’s right.” She smiles gently as she uses the edge of her shovel to carve stone brick textures into the sides of her castle, “In other words, everything here is a part of you.”

“What’s your point?”

“Isn’t this place empty? It’s pretty lonely if you ask me.”

“I told you to tell me your point.”

She sighs, “It’s hard to explain. You, um, asked me what you should do with your life, right? Instead of just lashing out at the world or whatever.”

Having made five reasonable towers, you begin sculpting sturdy walls out of the wet beach sand, “What does this have to do with that?”

She sticks a small toothpick flag into her tallest parapet, “You didn’t choose anything about this place.” She begins, “It just kinda, happened to be you, y’know? But this time, look-” she gestures to your lumpy, vaguely evil-fortress shaped pile of sand, “-you made that! You chose to make that sand castle how it is!”

“Well, I’d like it to look nicer,”

“Then you have to work at it, y’know?”

You scowl, “Just tell me what you mean.”

>>6143918

“Look, I’m not trying to talk in riddles, I’m really not. I just.. don’t really know how to describe it. When people say ‘be yourself’, they kinda assume an intrinsic ‘you-ness’ that I don’t think really exists.”

You use your arm to straighten out the north wall of your castle, “And?”

“Well, what do you think of when you hear ‘you’?”

“Atë..., I guess.”

“And who is that?”

“Ruin incarnate.”

“Awful critical, isn’t that?”

“It’s just who I am.”

“That’s exactly my point! There is no ‘who I am’. There’s just.. you.”

You sigh, “I don’t get it.”

“Uh, hmm, Ok. Imagine a person who drank coffee every day for ten years. When they wake up in the morning and brew themselves a cup, is it because making coffee is an intrinsic part of their soul?”

“No.”

“Exactly. They do it because they like the drink, or because they need the caffeine, or whatever other reason they have.”

You flop back onto the beach, noticing your entire body is back to normal.

“Did you like hurting people?”

“Sometimes.”

“Did you like hurting me?”

You can’t bring yourself to answer.

“I’m running low on focus.” She says, her body becoming translucent as she disappears into the saffron glow of the sun, “Let’s chat again soon, ok?”

Before you can say another word, she vanishes. The sand returns to its glassy rigidity, the sandcastles immortalized against the tides.”

>Introspect
>Practice an <Art>
>Wait until the prince gets back
>Look around the palace
>Write-in

>>6143919
>Look around the palace
God I wanna kill her so bad
Mince her soul up like ground beef so she can't bother us ever again

>>6143919
>Practice an <Art>
Better meditate on Soul Publisher a bit if it's one of our primary tools here. Maybe try to smooth out some of this writhing sea of damned souls.

>>6143941
Her screams would be sweet I admit, but we do so very badly need a therapist if we're ever going to get our Impetous functional.

And sooner or later someone is going to attack us directly in the soulscape, probably Prometheus. These sand castles need to become entrenched bunkers, and we have to get through our trauma to do that.

>>6143966
Weren't we waiting on the prince to bring back practice dummies for the Soul Publisher practice?

>These sand castles need to become entrenched bunkers, and we have to get through our trauma to do that.
Do they though?
How does one attack a beach, or the ocean? We can just pull them under and drown them within ourselves.

>>6143968
The problem isn't attacking the beach, it's our exposed ass on it. We don't have control over our soulscape, so we can't effectively defend ourselves with it.

>>6143983
Clearly the solution is to hide underwater
I suppose I could compromise with a fortress on the ocean floor

>>6143919
>Introspect
reminded me of the "the only thing you can't seem to comprehend is that it is your mind within your control"

>>6143919
>Look around the palace

>>6143919
>Practice an <Art>
Soul Publisher

>>6143966
>>6143968
>fortifying our soulscape
I think if we have our mind under control, like Pallas, we can make the soulscape take any form we want instantaneously.
Literally setting up physical fortifications in our soul is a little too on the nose about metaphors

>>6144230
Yeah, I'm hoping Atë's desolate beach eventually can convert to a pleasant tropical island beach instead.

>>6143941
>>6143966
>>6144021
>>6144136
>>6144230

>Practice <Ordinance of Atë>
>Explore the palace

Pressed for time and tired of waiting, you decide to explore the palace on your own. Shaping the Gown to resemble the outfit of the maid standing limply in front of you, you alter your appearance to shed all evidence of your modern origins. You frown at the deep blonde color of your hair, opting to change it to brown instead.

Though you seem natural now, you would rather not have to deal with being interrogated. You forcibly activate <Guerilla Tactics> and, though its output is a shell of its former might, it should be sufficient to blend into the background in tandem with your disguise.

You exit the cellar, making note of the illusory wall which obscures the entrance. You put your hand on it, feeling the stone, but with the awareness that it isn’t there, you find yourself able to pass effortlessly through the space. You try to analyze the spell with your <Eyes>, but the intricately woven divinity is complicated even to you, incomparably convoluted compared to <Gifts> or <Authorities>. So this, you think to yourself, is the divine essence of magic.

Taking stock of the area, you seem to be underground as anticipated, a cool stone hallway at the entrance of which lies a sturdy spiral staircase. There are other rooms, one of which is barred off with a steel gate, another obscured by an old oak door. At the end of the hallway lies what appears to be a heavily guarded vault, two armored knights standing between the door and you (as opposed to only one guarding what you presume to be the entrance to the palace dungeons). You decide to enter the wooden door first, finding a wine cellar filled wall to wall with barrels of various spirits. You would consider partaking if not for the particulars of the situation, but this room seems useless to you.

Regardless of the circumstances, your primary problem is being conspicuous. You can essentially do anything ‘normal’ without being questioned, but the moment you act in a way whatever shape you bear wouldn’t, the chances that you might be noticed skyrocket.

Then again, there’s no need to do anything untoward: you have an abundance of test subjects right here- the guards. All you need to do is get a hand on their armor and it should be relatively simple to plant an <Ordinance>. Though, if it’s more difficult than you expect, there might be a problem.

>Try <Ordinance of Atë> on a guard
>Explore the rest of the palace
>Sneak out into the capitol
>Write-in

>>6144400
>Explore the rest of the palace
Somewhere is a servant's quarters, or a kitchen.

>>6144400
>Explore the rest of the palace
Find someone more isolated
Sorry prince, took too long

>>6144483
Some poor bastard is going to get the job of being our minder at some point and it is not going to go well for them.

>>6144400
>>Explore the rest of the palace

>>6144400
>Explore the rest of the palace
a thought occurs. why would we help the prince at all? as soon as we know we can use our powers properly here, we should ask others to teach us their type of magic. (after we burned through the people he brought us)

>>6144782
Probably because he's the only sorcerer, and magic might not have enough potential to get us home.

>>6145016
>he's the only sorcerer
we don't know that.
I'm just saying we shouldn't feel obligated to stick with him

>inb4 we have to merge with him to be able to survive off this dimensions divinity and we spend some millennia try to breach back into our own dimension, wait a minute...

>>6145252
I feel no obligation to him beyond him being our current best lead to escape

>>6144422
>>6144483
>>6144698
>>6144782

>Explore the rest of the palace

You consider experimenting on one of these guards, but you reason that it’ll be easier for you to snare a cook, maid, or some other less dangerous employee of the crown than someone whose purpose it is to prevent things like what you’re about to do.

You walk forward, keeping your eyes low (as you presume to be custom here just as it was back when your world was feudal) but keeping your stride confident and firm as you climb the stairs and begin to traverse the unfamiliar halls of the castle. Since your authorities are weakened so much, you have no choice but to rely on psychology: generally, people tend to notice very little, far less than one might think. The human brain is impressive, but its computational capacity is limited and its focus even moreso.

So, even if you have no idea what to do or where to go, so long as you have the confidence to look like you belong, you will never trigger enough of the subconscious alarms for suspicion- or perhaps more so ‘wrongness’- in the unsuspecting minds of the busy little people of the world.

The castle above is carved seemingly from the same stone, but has a much warmer atmosphere, both in the figurative and literal sense. Wooden paneling lies beneath your feet instead of the cold stone beneath, and the walls are adorned with decorative tapestries, paintings, and intricately crafted lanterns in place of wrought iron torch-holders.

You find a maid as you walk, her steps burdened by the fatigue of a long day at work. It seems to be rather late, as the lamps are dim and the oil within runs low. Seizing a perfect opportunity, you subtly begin to follow the older woman, subtly imitating her stature and fatigue.

>>6145338

As you proceed, you <See> an anomaly through the walls, around an upcoming corner. The servant in front of you stops, bowing low as the divinity signature approaches. You follow suit, copying her show of humility while observing with your <Eyes> instead.

The figure before you, a woman with a striking resemblance to the second prince- sharp ice-blue eyes, a noble, arrogant gaze (though not as much so, you think to yourself, as the prince himself might if he weren’t so stricken with terror), and a head of silvery hair which, disregarding defects, would be unseen as a natural color in your reality. What struck you, though, rather than something different from your world, was something similar:

Her divinity pool is almost 100. If the prince’s was double the average (and based on those you’ve crossed he appears to have been telling the truth) that would make this woman 6 times stronger than the people of this world ought to be. You can see that her soul alone is enough to cause an instinctual feeling of intimidation in those she comes across.

Your eyes narrow- though the mana in Malgharians (and presumably all mortals from the White World)- is lesser than that of Earthlings, their sensitivity seems to be much, much higher. It is no wonder, then, that enough of them were able to independently develop <Arts> for sorcerers to be known and feared by all.

“Greetings to Her Majesty the First Princess,” the maid cries, “Jewel of Malghar, Anointed by the Light of the Moon!”

What a needlessly tedious introduction, you think to yourself, suppressing a scoff at the trivialities of nobility. You repeat the greeting, lowering your head slightly to make up for the poor etiquette of being late.

“You may raise your heads,” The princess declares in an even tone. You do so, keeping your gaze at her feet. Observing her body, you find that, either unconsciously or through some sort of sorcery, she’s spread divinity to her entire body, strengthening it in a similar (though more subtle) way than the System might. Still, the limit of quantity makes the extent unimpressive.

You shake your head, clearing your mind of unnecessary thoughts- what matters is that you have confirmation- this is the first princess, your target.

>Stick to the plan and allow her to leave
>Tail her back to her room
>Kill her where she stands
>Reveal yourself and offer a deal
>Write-in

>>6145339
>>Kill her where she stands

>>6145339
God, I really want to just do a soul knowledge rip on her, but fucking hell it would sting. We'd lose a lot of stability. Still....

We want her knowledge, so killing her seems ill advised. I'd like to get Dominion ironed out before we go for anything bold though.

>Stick to the plan and allow her to leave

>>6145435
A thought occurs, suddenly and sharply. Did we learn anything from the King within the Uncrowned we could use here? Could we use that experience to manipulate the princess? Play the "I come from a terrible reality where your brother has become a monster, pray aid me in defying such a fate?" Regardless I'd like to sharpen our Art before putting ourselves out there but it feels like that experience should be an advantage of some sort here.

>>6145339
>Kill her where she stands

>>6145339
>Tail her back to her room
Why kill her here when we could use her as a test dummy?

>>6145339
>>Stick to the plan and allow her to leave
seems like she will be more useful than the prince

>>6145339
>Tail her back to her room

>>6145339
>Kill her where she stands