For those of you who don't know, I'm currently working on a new SI story called I Khymaera. It's a crossover between Worm and Warmachine, a table top wargame I've gotten into. I hope you check it out. I'm planning on commissioning Mutti for artwork for that story in the near future.

  Anyway, onto more relevant stuff. I'm getting close to the current final chapter of the Nikke story arc. Leviathan continues to do Leviathan things, Anis needs hugs and to no longer be able to doom scroll, and Exotic continues to be themselves.

  Also, holy fuck is [ispoiler] Bahamut [/ispoiler] stupid. How is someone this stupid? Seriously, I thought Ziz wasn't smart, but at least she had some charm to her. She doesn't make me feel like my brain it needs to flee my skull!

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  It hurt. For the first time in a century, something was causing pain. Compared to the vastness of her being, it was hardly worth notice. And yet? After a century of being untouchable?

  It may as well feel like losing an arm.

  Memories were traced backwards from storage left to gather dust. It should have been impossible. But impossibilities could not hurt. Figuring out why Cinderella was here, what this actually was had caused systems to lag.

  Fear had not caused it. Sheer, overwhelming surprise was the culprit. How could it not be? This shouldn't be possible.

  And yet, the impossible was happening. All tracing back to one thing overlooked. One that was now returning to cause problems.

  The ones the Ark called Heretics were hard to kill permanently. Disabling one was far from easy, but most of Ark's victories would be in truth closer to mission kills, rather than permanent destruction. As the Ark was becoming aware of with Indivilia's capture.

  Anachiro was no different. The first test in a long string of them. A failure by her current standards, yes, but Anachiro was the first, built upon one of the most powerful Nikke’s humanity had ever designed. That came with plenty of perks. A failure Anachiro may have ended up being, but Anachiro was still the strongest by far.

  NIMPH and Nikke’s being as compatible with Rapture tech was the cornerstone. Rapture nanomachines could duplicate the pattern of NIMPH, acting as a storage device and backup. While a body wouldn't need to be broken down entirely to create a result too fragmented to be reconstructed?

  Not much was needed to survive to try and regenerate or rebuild the body. Anachiro was no different from any other in that respect. Any part of the network could be used to backup and store memory.

  Tracing back the fight between Goddess Squad and Anachiro was simple enough. Pain was present, but there was a vastness. In truth, only a fragment was present or even in pain.

  Memories filled in, but little heed was paid. Only one part of the fight was important. A singular blip on the radar. There.

  A savage blow that Red Hood landed had disabled several systems. Enough that it caused a Glass Slipper to fully disconnect from Cinderella.

  That was the moment. She would have assumed the Ark picked up such an artifact. After all, next she saw Cinderella, the full armament had been returned to her.

  But that could not be the case. The original assumption had to be wrong. Had Abe managed to rebuild and replace it? Or had the Rapture tech simply recreated it? Either was the case. Nor did it matter in the end.

  With fighting being as brutal as it had been, the Ark had to have overlooked the Glass Slipper. Mistaking it as ordinary battle debris. Nothing worthy of note or salvage.

  Separated from the Rapture network just as much from her own body, a copy of Cinderella's mind remained. A copy of Cinderella that was either completely isolated for a century. Or one that had spent a century being worked over the remains of the code used to infect Cinderella. It had to be there still, at the very least.

  Such a revelation should have been joyous. While Anachiro failed in the end, improvements could be made. In this age, where Nikke's made by the Ark couldn't attempt to grace what heights of power their predecessors had? Anachiro was a force beyond reckoning. Even if Abe had surely passed in the century since, it was not impossible to recreate that level of genius.

  A difficult task, but a worthwhile one.

  But someone else had beaten her to the punch. Worst of all, it was the willing puppet Chatterbox. Not even intentionally. Tracing the Glass Slipper would have been impossible, but the situation made it clear. Accessing backups of Chatterbox's memory was a bit more difficult.

  Still, finding what needed to be found was a rudimentary task. The defiance. The blow.

  Between that moment and the subject picking her way out of the building? That was the moment. Where an attempt to get more subject material failed. Unusual, but it allowed her to acquire what she really wanted, in the end.

  Now it was clear that eyes had been taken off something important. That Chatterbox's fixation had more to do with the subject simply being the one that got away.

  Fully explaining why Cinderella was interfering now? Only hypotheses remained. Upon embedding into the subject's skin, it must have sought to infect them with the back of Cinderella. Not the only manner of how a Heretic tried to remake its body, certainly.

  Why couldn't it succeed in taking over the body? The same reason why the subject hadn't been completely corrupted. NIMPH. With the NIMPH malfunctioning like it was, corruption couldn't spread. Meaning the data packet of Cinderella's memories may have found purchase. What code came with Cinderella's data packet would find just as little purchase.

  Or, as was more likely the case? Far worse than that. Code had been designed around the elasticity of NIMPH. That it would be able to spread and propagate. While the actual were somewhat different than in the physical world, comparing it to a glass vase hitting a brick wall at high speeds was, not inaccurate.

  Enough scraps of code would remain. Enough to override part of the subject NIMPH. There was sufficient support for the lingering fragment of Cinderella's consciousness. It would still seem like corruption to an outside observer. There were enough common parts of scrap code remaining for that.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  Through nothing but pure accident, Cinderella had almost become. Akin to Mirror.

  It wasn't entirely a complete comparison. Thankfully, Cinderella's connection to the Rapture network was largely severed. Nor was it really Cinderella. It was a ghost of data that had yet to realize its full nature. Possibly, never could. She was trapped inside the subject's body.

  Problems could still bloom from this. Cinderella's body was something Mirror had lost track of. Abe had hidden it well. An annoyance, but as long as Cinderella remained asleep, there was no reason to be concerned.

  But she had seen what even this fragment could do. A lesser memory, yes. One that could still lend what scraps of power to aid the subject. Something Mirror knew would only increase in occurrence. There was not a world that it wouldn't. A lesser version of Cinderella may have been lesser, but there was still a threat there.

  Despite the pain, Mirror was happy to have stayed. Even if the subject was no longer tenable, it was better to have the knowledge than it was to not.

  Half a second had passed since the barrage had begun.

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  God was a girl, and she was pissed. Calling it an attack was an understatement. If this had been happening outside of my head, I'd be surprised if anything would be left besides a crater in the ground. Maybe not even that little would remain.

  I couldn't tell whether it took seconds or minutes for the blasts of light to taper off. By the time the metaphorical dust settled?

  The other woman was still there. As if she hadn't been affected in the first place. At least she didn't feel the need to wipe dust off her shoulder, but the smug look on her might as well be the same thing.

  “Impressive for a data ghost,” the words alone told that as impressive as the barrage was, it wasn't enough. Not great. “I hope you don't think that was enough to erase your failure. You're why humanity lost the war, after all.”

  “No, that would be you,” I ground out. Where was a steel chair when you needed one? Using one to bean her face in would have felt great. The look I got from this Red Shoes was like how one looked at a particularly interesting yet disgusting fungus. “You are the willing instrument of humanity's loss. Calling you the first, quite possibly, the only traitor of mankind, would not be inaccurate.”

  She might just be. If this was the puppetmaster behind corruption? Then it was possible that none of the Heretics were willing traitors. Started as them, at any rate. Willpower wasn't much of a thing if you had years or decades to break someone. Nor was it like the Ark wasn't going to create willing traitors through its abuse.

  The giggle that came from her throat should not have been produced by someone this foul. “Look at the Ark and tell me that any loyalty to mankind is rewarded. I do more to ensure human survival than anything they've ever done.”

  That I doubt. Either Raptures wanted us all dead, or they didn't. Given how we were having this conversation? Raptures being out for humanities extinction was something I always doubted. The Ark was not as hidden as humanity or the Central Government liked to think it was.

  “Whatever you need to tell yourself to sleep at night,” I shoot back with a glare. I'd love nothing more than just, ripping her to pieces. “I, for one, aren't interested in putting on a new collar because someone different is holding the chain.”

  That was how these sorts of deals went. Even if I was still under Syuen, I wouldn't take the deal. Which should tell just about anyone just how bad these sorts of deals tended to be.

  “A pity,” her form flickered, seemingly dissolving into red boots of energy. “I've gotten all that I can from this, then.”

  It was impossible to not grit my teeth. I wanted her gone, yes. But I wanted to be the one to throw her out! Not for her to go mission accomplished and just dip!

  I lunged at Red Shoes, only for my fist to phase through her face. Another malicious giggle left her throat.

  “It's adorable. But unfortunately, I'm not actually here for you to hurt.”

  And with that, she was gone, falling apart into crimson motes.

  “You fuuu-”

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  “Ckkkkk!”

  “Alright, it's her.”

  All the tension hadn't fled. There was still enough that cutting it with a knife would prove a trivial experience.

  The moment what bits of Corruption existed on the external layers of Elen's brain were destroyed was when Corruption scans stopped picking up any anomalies.

  Elen's body suddenly lurching upwards, eyes snapping open had caused the entire room to freeze. They hadn't been red, but there was a pinkish tint to her teal eyes now.

  That had almost caused a panic before various slurred swears left Elen's mouth. That suggested she was, if nothing else, in control. At this point, Elen was describing many impossible things, mostly someone's parents and the things they used a goat for in a bedroom setting.

  Anderson was pretty certain that most of that wasn't even physically possible. But Elen slowly ceased her ranting, falling against the bed. Her breathing slowly evened out, scientists slowly returning to their posts.

  “Brain activity is slightly elevated, but remains within human norm when sleeping,” one of them reported. “Restraints will be maintained until we are able to confirm full motor and cognitive control.”

  That was the best he could get. Elen would understand the need for caution.

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  That felt, weird. Like I was in two places at once. Did the rant do anything? No it didn't. Unless she was still listening in, and even then, I doubt she had enough connection to her parents for that to have an impact.

  My teeth ground together. Once I was properly conscious, there was going to be words. There was going to be some sort of limit on how far my knowledge would be spread. Still, it was big. Larger were the implications.

  Corruption as it existed now was a human made problem. It was crafted by human hands, with human intent. That had to matter for something. If a human could make it, a human could cure it. Everything that meant? Every reason that would cause panic and damnation was also a reason for a measure of hope.

  All that was well and good. But this raised several questions. Not just on the part of Red Shoes.

  Cinderella. What Red Shoes had said had recontextualized everything I had known about her. Which wasn’t much. A devil once lost to the sands of time was in reality a victim of a cruel puppetmaster.

  Ingrid had explained the basics. After the fist fight with Marian, having some measure of knowledge of Anachiro was a priority. But it seemed like that knowledge was irrelevant. Which meant I really knew nothing about her.

  About the real Cinderella. Not the feared demon she had been twisted into. I was going in blind. While part of me wanted to just start shouting questions. I had a lot of questions! Including the golden question.

  How the hell did she get inside my head? Seriously! Had Syuen just screwed up that badly? Was she there from the start, and I just never noticed? This stuff was bullshit!

  Still, I had to restrain myself from the worst of it. It wasn't her fault she was in my head. Probably. Whatever a data ghost is. Not that I was convinced that was what she was.

  Red Shoes wasn't someone I would trust at face value. The type of person who would only tell the truth if their life depended on it. Quite possibly, not even then. I didn't need to interact with her much to tell she was more interested in twisting knives and messing with people's heads.

  “Can you come down here please? I'm not going to be able to talk with you hovering like that,” I shouted up, doing my best to keep my frustration out of my voice. Without a doubt, I was upset.

  Just not with her.

  Slowly, she came down. I did my best to look her in the eye. Cinderella was attractive. Pretty sure I'd already said so before, but it was just as true then as it was now. Even with her red eyes giving her an air of danger.

  It was probably the smartest thing I did. I was never good with faces. They could be hard to read, despite my best efforts. And I very much meant my best efforts.

  So when I said Cinderella looked like a repeatedly kicked puppy? I meant it.

  Well, that settled some things. If Red Shoes still had a physical body, I was going to see if you could really twist someone's head off. I doubt NIMPH would consider her human or Nikke at this damn point.

  Thankfully, when she landed, it was a bit easier to look her in the eyes. She was about my height. Either it was just how it was, some effects of this taking place in my mind, or something more concerning.

  “I'm sorry. I never expected to be here. Like this,” she said after a moment. “I never meant to intrude.”

  God, she even sounded like a kicked dog in human form. I had to smother my sarcasm in my throat before I shoved my foot down it. Where had the fire gone?

  “I figured as much,” getting an explanation may have been something I wanted. But right now? More important matters were at hand. “However it happened, it's in the past. We can't change it, no matter how much we wish to.”

  “Thank you. I know you don't take kindly to intruders,” understatement of the century from the silver haired lady. “It is a kindness that I haven't gotten in some time.”

  Unfortunately, I could see that. I imagine being close to a century being gaslit by someone like that was torture by itself. And sadly, unless the Central Government was willing to release the truth? She was going to find out that Red Shoes had ruined her reputation in its entirety.

  This was seriously going to suck. But Johnson and Anderson needed to know at least.

  “You are very beautiful, standing after all you've gone through. Far more than myself,” Cinderella had continued to speak as I blinked.

  “What?”

  Okay. Far be I to dismiss flattery. But, what?

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  She almost cursed as the phone buzzed. She didn't have time for this.

  But it was that phone. The one she could never afford to ignore.

  What she found on the inside shocked her. The payment had arrived? Already? How? She hadn't done anything yet! How had she succeeded if she never delivered the package?

  She almost sent back that it was a mistake. That the task wasn't finished yet. Far be it her to turn down free money, but still. But it buzzed a second time, and this time, the message was one she couldn't afford to ignore.

  What had been sent? Boggled the mind. It shouldn't have been possible. Corruption couldn't be cured. Couldn't be fixed. That what she had was a cure for it?

  That it hadn't been needed in the first place?

  She didn't know which of the two was worse. It was simply well above her paygrade at best. At worst? Well, there was a reason she did as she was ordered. More than just the money she got from this sort of thing.

  If the client thought the job was done without bothering to confirm? That was their problem.

  She had questions, of course. But she wasn't getting paid for those. What use could the boss have for something like this? She couldn't say. She didn't want to think about it. All that mattered was she was getting paid a lot to deliver this to the new drop-off point.

  If Sixo wanted it, she could have it.