Chapter 158: The Little Yin, And The Little Yang
Noirette lounged atop Blanchette’s back with casual indifference, her legs dangling over the smaller woman’s shoulders like a makeshift throne.
The ruined church loomed before them, its crumbling spires piercing the overcast sky like jagged fingers grasping at forgotten gods.
Vines choked the stone walls, and the air hummed with the faint, unnatural static that seemed to permeate this forsaken corner of Fathomi.
Blanchette, ever the picture of strained and tortured composure, bore the weight without complaint—though her knees trembled slightly under the pressure.
It wasn’t the first time she’d been reduced to furniture; Oizys and Samael had turned it into something of a habit, a peculiar ritual of dominance that Blanchette had learned to endure with her trademark tomfoolery and annoying smiley deadpan plastered firmly in place.
Noirette’s gaze fixed on the crest of the church—a faded emblem of some long-lost faith, etched into the weathered stone, and now glitching like a game’s instance object missing its texture.
"So, what is this ripple or glitch up there on the crest?" she asked, her voice laced with curiosity as she pointed lazily toward the disturbance.
Blanchette shifted slightly, adjusting her posture to better support Noirette’s shifting form.
"It’s subtle, isn’t it? Barely noticeable unless you’re looking for it—or unless you’re attuned to the world’s undercurrents in a way most aren’t." She paused, her voice steady despite the strain. "The fabric of Fathomi’s reality is slowly being rewritten. Not torn apart, mind you, but reshaped into something hybrid. Otherworldly in nature~
"It’s like threads from another existence are weaving themselves into the very essence of this place, blending what we know with something alien, something that doesn’t belong to fate or entropy as we’ve understood them."
Noirette chuckled, a low, throaty sound that echoed through the ruins.
She leaned back slightly, putting more weight on Blanchette for emphasis, eliciting a faint grunt from below. "Fitting, really. This whole world looks like it’s straight out of a game. You’ve got the Well of the Soul popping up stats and skills like some RPG character sheet, and Curios spawning randomly like loot chests that cough up tiered items—common junk to legendary artifacts.
"If this glitch is part of some bigger update, it almost makes sense. Fathomi’s already got that virtual vibe."
Blanchette’s smile widened, though her arms ached from holding steady. She tilted her head just enough to glance up at Noirette, her crimson eyes reflecting the distorted crest. "Ah, but that’s precisely why you’re the one spotting it, Noirette. Or should I say, Kivas~"
"Don’t use that name if you’re the one who urged me to not use it."
"Right, I apologize. Unlike you, I can forget things."
"Yes, acknowledge your inferiority, underling. So what do you want to say again?"
"Basically," Blanchette continued as if they didn’t just have an interlude a second ago. "You’ve only been here a short while in the grand scheme— a newcomer to this bizarre tapestry. Your perspective isn’t clouded by centuries of immersion in Fathomi’s madness.
"To you, the strangeness stands out like a sore thumb because you’re still half-anchored to whatever world you came from. That fresh eye is what’s needed to pinpoint the exact anomaly here. It’s not just a visual quirk; it’s a symptom of deeper change, one that natives would dismiss as another distortion or anomaly in a world full of them."
Noirette nodded slowly. "And if someone like Samael or the Karasu Association saw this? They wouldn’t bat an eye?"
"Exactly," Blanchette replied, her voice taking on a lecturing tone, as if explaining a profound secret to a favored pupil. "They’ve lived too long within Fathomi’s rules. To them, this ripple might register as a minor fluctuation in the metaphysical weave—perhaps a side effect of some distant quake or a Voidling’s passing influence.
"But that’s what makes it so dangerous. It’s insidious, slipping under the radar because it mimics the world’s inherent chaos. If there are no alarms raised, no investigations are launched. It hides in plain sight, eroding the foundations while everyone carries on with their wars and alliances."
Noirette’s expression sharpened, connecting the dots. "This phenomenon... it’s tied to that cosmic threat Norn mentioned, isn’t it? The kind of threat that is lurking beyond Fathomi’s edges, waiting to unravel everything."
Blanchette’s grin turned almost feral, her teeth flashing in the gloom. "Yes, in a way. But let’s peel back the layers, shall we?"
"Is it that complex for it to have layers?"
"Obviously!" Blanchette preached. "That pixelated corruption is unraveling at the very same end of Fathomi’s fabric of existence—a pseudo-digitization."
"Digitization...?"
"To put it simply, Fathomi is slowly being transformed into a world of digitized hybrids. Not fully virtual, mind you, but infused with structures that echo digital constructs.
"Think of it as code infiltrating biology and metaphysics. Pixels bleeding into souls, algorithms subtly overriding fate’s whims. The Well of the Soul, those Curios—they’re already proto-digital in function, quantifying existence into stats and tiers. This glitch, as in the phenomenon that we’re seeing right now, is resulted by something that amplifies that, turning the abstract into the literal digital existence.
"And then slowly, reality here is becoming programmable, layer by layer, without anyone noticing because it’s so gradual, so woven into the existing fabric, that it become part of it and everyone will deem it normal because it is what Fathomi can do~"
Noirette raised an eyebrow, her red draconic eyes narrowing in intrigue. She shifted her weight again, deliberately this time, making Blanchette wince subtly. "To ensure that I won’t question this again. This, digitization, is it like in games? Virtual worlds, simulations, that sort of thing? Where everything’s data and code under the hood?"
"Yep."
"Sounds absurd."
Blanchette nodded, her voice unwavering despite the discomfort. "But not a clean, human-made sim, mind you. This is messier— a fusion. Imagine Fathomi’s entropy and fate as organic code, now being overwritten by an external protocol.
"Structures that were once fluid, governed by divine whims or the rule in which no age-related decay exists, are crystallizing into binary patterns. The ripple you see? That’s a seam where the old and new clash. It’s like a rendering error in a vast simulation, where the engine struggles to reconcile incompatible assets.
"Over time, it could stabilize into something entirely new: a world where thoughts manifest as code snippets, where souls are data packets, and anomalies become glitches that can be patched—or exploited.
"The danger lies in who, or what, is doing the patching. If it’s that cosmic threat Norn alluded to, then Fathomi isn’t just changing; it’s being colonized from the inside out~"
"And to think that if what you said is true, the attempt has already been made," Noirette placed an index finger on her cheek. "And the inevitable threat itself is going to be the total assimilation of Fathomi with this whole digitization."
"Yep!"
Noirette’s amusement faded into irritation. She reached down and pinched Blanchette’s cheek hard, twisting just enough to elicit a sharp hiss.
Her smile was angered now, sharp and unforgiving. "You idiot. This information could literally prevent Samael and the Karasu Association from missing a subtle cosmic threat to Fathomi. And here we are, ridiculously far from them, thanks to your little ’fresh air nudge.’ Teleporting us out here was dumb and needless— we could’ve warned them and began harvesting more and more hints of this phenomenon!"
Blanchette’s smile faltered for a split second, pain etching lines around her eyes, but she held it. Her voice came out pained, breathy from the effort of supporting Noirette’s rather tall frame. "It... won’t matter either way. You—as Kivas—won’t be able to tell them in the first place."
Noirette released the pinch, her anger giving way to confusion. She slid off Blanchette’s back, allowing the smaller woman to stand and stretch with a relieved sigh. "Why the hell not?"
Blanchette huffed and puffed, rolling her shoulders to ease the ache. She dusted off her cloak, the silver crescents glinting. "Because they can’t see it, and so was you when you’re still Kivas." Blanchette grinned. "Their perception is filtered through the Well of the Soul— that metaphysical anchor that quantifies everything in Fathomi. It binds them to the world’s rules, blinds them to anomalies that operate outside its framework.
"This pseudo-digitization? It’s invisible to those tethered by the Well. It’s like trying to spot a virus in a system while running the infected code yourself. You, right now, in this severed state... you’re free of it. That’s why you noticed the ripple. Your vision is unclouded~"
It clicked for Noirette then, a puzzle piece snapping into place.
She stared at Blanchette, her draconic eyes widening. "You... you don’t have a Well of the Soul either, do you?"
Blanchette’s enthusiasm burst forth, her grin wide and genuine now, free of the strain. "Bingo! I don’t possess one. Never have. It’s liberating, in a way— no stats dictating my entire capabilities, no soul traits boxing me in into something sketchy. I exist on my own terms, slipping through the cracks of Fathomi’s systems~"
Noirette crossed her arms, skepticism creeping in. "How did you hide that? Especially from someone like Samael? She’s got senses sharper than any blade— she’d sniff out an anomaly like you in seconds."
Blanchette’s response was vague, delivered with a wink and a flourish of her cloak. "Everything can be done as long as one knows a way to do it. Tricks of perception, veils of will. Let’s just say I’ve mastered the art of seeming ordinary in an extraordinary world."
Noirette pressed further, her curiosity piqued. "And being my sister? Sharing the Chariot surname? Is that a lie too?"
"No, that’s true," Blanchette answered without hesitation. "I am a Chariot, through and through. Anyone who can read spiritual signatures would attest to it. The essence matches— the core resonance is there, undeniable~"
Noirette tilted her head, pondering. "But the Noble Surname system... that’s tied to the Well of the Soul, right? It’s how Fathomi places and quantifies existence. How does it work for you if you don’t have one?"
Blanchette’s smile turned triumphant, her red eyes sparkling with mischief. "It works because I willed it to work!"
That answer made Noirette want to punch the living hell out of this brat, but she didn’t want to be deemed an abuser.
Even though she was currently abusing her sister right now.
Before Noirette could probe deeper, a massive explosion rocked the air nearby.
The ground trembled, flora rustled violently, and weird birds scattered in a chaotic flurry, their wings beating against the sky like thunder.
Dust and debris plumed upward from the direction of the blast, carrying the acrid scent of scorched earth and something metallic, otherworldly.
Blanchette glanced up, her expression shifting to mild intrigue. "Well, that was dramatic. Care to stop abusing me and check out what caused that ruckus? Could be fun."
Noirette nodded, her own curiosity overriding the lingering questions. "I’m giving you a break because you’re my lovely little sister."
"Aww, that’s so sweet of you~ big sis~"
Together, they approached the source, weaving through the overgrown ruins and dense underbrush.
The sounds grew louder—clashes of steel, roars of fury, shouts of desperation.
Emerging from the foliage, they beheld a chaotic battlefield: a group of Void Hunters, clad in rugged armor etched with protective runes, locked in combat with a colossal five-headed snake Voidling.
The beast towered over them, its scales shimmering with entropic voids that swallowed light. Each head snapped independently, spewing corrosive venom that sizzled against the hunters’ barriers.
The Void Hunters—about a dozen strong—were struggling, their formations breaking under the assault.
One lay crumpled, armor melted, another fired desperate bolts from a Curio weapon, only for a head to lash out and shatter it.
Blanchette tilted her head, observing with detached amusement. "Looks like they’re in over their heads, as in having a lot of trouble. Want to intervene?"
Noirette shook her head, stepping back slightly. "Not my business. Besides, I don’t have my Well of the Soul or any divinity left to help. I’d just get in the way—or worse."
Blanchette’s grin returned, sly and enticing. "Oh, come now. What if I sweeten the deal?" She put on a devilish grin. "Defeat that Voidling before the hunters do, and I’ll teach you how to turn the absence of the Well into a positive. All that jazz— harnessing your untethered state as a strength. Imagine wielding power unbound by stats, free from Fathomi’s chains~"
Noirette paused, her lips curling into a smile.
If she just happens to die, then she could just reset. This whole timeline was already going haywire anyway the moment Blanchette did her stupid stunt.
But Noirette, as Kivas, already promised to Samael that they won’t reset the timeline until the little puffball matured enough to tell its name to everyone.
Well, then that settled.
Noirette just need to not die.
"Maybe it’s worth a try."