The sapphire-blue light didn't just knit his flesh back together; it felt like it was reforging the steel of his willpower. The arrow in his hand dissolved, not into dust, but into pure energy that surged through his veins, seeking an outlet.
From the center of that azure radiance, the energy solidified. With the heavy, mechanical sound of an engine locking into gear, Crazy Diamond burst into existence.
She was a towering vision of restoration and raw power. Her armor, a vibrant blue and white carapace, hugged a physique that was undeniably feminine but built like a fortress—broad shoulders, thick, powerful thighs reinforced with heart-shaped knee guards, and a chest plate that accentuated a formidable bust while promising impenetrable defense. Her helmet, a fusion of knightly aesthetics and sleek modernity, hid her eyes, but her jaw was set in a stoic, masculine grimace. She slammed her massive fists together, sparks of restorative energy flying, and let out a single, thunderous war cry.
"DORA!"
The void rippled violently as the challenge was issued.
Instantly, a flash of gold tore through the white space. TheWorld zipped into existence, her voluptuous form clad in yellow armor, platinum braids whipping behind her like a crown. She struck a pose mid-air, emerald eyes flashing with haughty irritation at this new rival taking up space in Min-jun's soul. She didn't hesitate; she launched herself at Crazy Diamond, a flurry of golden fists aiming to assert dominance.
Crazy Diamond didn't budge. She caught The World's wrists with a restorative clang, locking the time-stopper in a stalemate of strength.
Whirrrrrrr.
The sound of the Golden Ratio spinning up drowned out the clash. Behind them, the fabric of the mind-space seemed to unzip as Tusk Act 4 emerged. The colossal pink entity was a wall of muscle and star-patterned drapery, her feminine form massive and terrifying in its scale. She didn't shout; the infinite rotation spoke for her.
With a speed that belied her size, Tusk reached out. One massive, armored hand clamped onto Crazy Diamond's shoulder, the other wrapped around The World's waist. She pulled them apart effortlessly, the infinite energy in her grip nullifying their struggles instantly.
Silence fell over the void. Tusk looked down at the two smaller Stands, ensuring the peace was kept, before turning her helmeted gaze to Min-jun. Slowly, with grave seriousness, she raised a thick, pink thumb.
Min-jun, watching the chaos unfold, let out a relieved breath. "Good work, Tusk. At least one of you has some discipline."
Tusk nodded stoically and began to fade, dragging a reluctant, grunting Crazy Diamond with her back into the depths of his spirit.
But The World remained.
Realizing she had been physically overpowered and then ignored, the golden Stand's haughty expression crumbled. She dropped to her knees on the invisible floor, the imperious time-goddess vanishing instantly. In her place was a pathetic, sobbing mess. Her emerald eyes grew comically large and watery, her lip wobbling in a perfect imitation of a certain useless goddess begging for debt forgiveness.
She crawled toward him, pitiful whining sounds escaping her throat, and threw her arms around his waist. She buried her face into his chest, her golden helmet knocking against his sternum as she rubbed her cheek against him, sobbing theatrically.
Min-jun looked down, trying to muster a glare, but the sensation was... distracting. The World was soft where the armor gave way to pale skin, her voluptuous curves pressing firmly against him as she clung on for dear life. He sighed, bringing a hand down to chop the top of her head, though he didn't push her away.
"Oh, stop it," he snapped, looking down at the crying powerhouse snuggled into his shirt. "You picked the fight! You can't just try to mug the new recruit and then cry when Tusk separates you. You are a manifestation of ultimate power...one of the most manliest of manly stands from where im from stop acting like a—"
The World's sobbing suddenly stopped. The vibration of her pathetic whining against his ribs ceased, replaced by a tense, strange stillness. Min-jun paused mid-sentence, looking down.
The World wasn't crying anymore. Her face was still buried in his chest, but now she was... taking deep breaths?
He felt her nose nuzzle deeper into the fabric of his shirt. A low, appreciative hum vibrated through her throat. Slowly, she tilted her head back, her emerald eyes locking onto his. The tears were gone, replaced by a wide, unnervingly perverted grin that stretched across her face. Her nostrils flared as she took another long, exaggerated sniff of his shirt, her expression practically melting with ecstasy.
"Hey!" Min-jun yelped, a flush of embarrassment and alarm shooting through him. He grabbed her golden shoulders, trying to pry her off. "What the hell are you doing?! Get off!"
She didn't budge. If anything, she clung tighter, her armored legs wrapping around his waist like a vice, her grin widening as she seemingly tried to absorb his scent through osmosis. She was stronger than him—orders of magnitude stronger—and she knew it.
"Let go! This isn't part of the scolding!" he shouted, pulling at her platinum braids.
Suddenly, a massive pink hand and a blue armored fist shot into the frame.
Whirrrr-CHUNK.
Tusk Act 4 and Crazy Diamond had returned. Tusk grabbed The World by the back of her golden collar, while Crazy Diamond seized her by the waist. The two titans pulled, their muscles straining against The World's hysterical grip.
The World hissed like a feral cat, digging her fingers into Min-jun's shirt, refusing to be separated from her prize.
"DORA!" Crazy Diamond barked, sounding genuinely annoyed. She planted a boot on Tusk's leg for leverage and gave a mighty heave.
With a loud POP, The World was dislodged. She flailed in the air, held aloft by Tusk and Crazy Diamond, reaching desperate, grasping hands toward Min-jun while making silent, dramatic wailing faces.
"Get her out of here!" Min-jun ordered, straightening his crumpled shirt.
Crazy Diamond nodded sharply. She shifted her grip, essentially putting The World in a headlock, and began to drag the struggling golden Stand away into the white mist.
But Tusk didn't follow immediately. The massive pink centurion lingered. She looked at Min-jun, then at the retreating forms of the other two, then back at Min-jun.
Slowly, Tusk's terrifying, dark eyes softened. The giant metal skirt of her lower half shifted, and she floated closer. Before Min-jun could react, Tusk's enormous arms enveloped him.
It wasn't a crush; it was a warm, encompassing embrace. Unlike The World's manic clinging, Tusk held him with a gentle, protective weight, her chin resting lightly on top of his head. She squeezed him just enough to make him feel safe, grounded, and infinitely protected.
Min-jun blinked, the residual annoyance at The World fading instantly. He patted Tusk's massive, star-patterned forearm.
"See? This is how you behave," he murmured, leaning into the hug. "You're the best one, Tusk. The only sane one in the bunch."
Tusk let out a low, vibrating hum of satisfaction, nuzzling the top of his hair briefly before finally pulling away. She gave him one last, lingering look, then turned and floated into the mist, her silhouette fading as the white void began to collapse around him.
Min-jun closed his eyes, the warmth of that final embrace lingering on his skin.
"Right," he whispered as the darkness took him. "Time to wake up."
- - - - - -
Min-jun's eyes snapped open.
The white void was gone, instantly replaced by the oppressive grey sky of the Orleans singularity. The air smelled of sulfur and damp earth.
He didn't hurt. That was the first thing he noticed. The gnawing, burning pain in his side that had been plaguing him for miles was gone. Erased. He sat up, his hand flying to his ribs, but there was nothing—not even a scar. Crazy Diamond's restoration had been absolute.
"Master?"
A soft, childlike voice chimed right beside his ear.
Min-jun turned to see Jack the Ripper crouching next to him in the mud. The small, white-haired Assassin tilted her head, her large green eyes blinking curiously. She was cleaning one of her large combat knives on her thigh, her scantily clad form seemingly unbothered by the chill or the grime of the battlefield.
"You went quiet," she said, her tone innocent, like a child asking why a toy stopped working. "Your heart sounded funny. I was about to open you up to see what was wrong."
Min-jun sweat-dropped, pushing himself up to his feet. "No need for surgery, Jack. I'm... I'm actually better than ever."
He flexed his hand. The weight of the three feminine spirits settled in his gut—a chaotic, nuclear battery of power. The World's clinging warmth, Tusk's protective embrace, and Crazy Diamond's stoic restoration. He felt sharper. Stronger.
He looked toward the distant sound of battle. The wyverns were screeching, and the clash of steel echoed from the direction Ritsuka and Mash had taken.
"Jack," Min-jun said, brushing the dirt off his uniform. "Change of plans. We're splitting up."
Jack pouted, spinning the knife on her finger. "Ehhh? But I want to stay with Master. It's safer if I'm close to protect you from the bad things."
"Ritsuka and Mash need a shadow," Min-jun instructed firmly, looking down at her. "There are too many Wyverns for them to handle while they push for the castle. I need you to go into the fog. Clear their path. Anyone who tries to ambush them... you have permission to dissect."
Jack's eyes lit up immediately. The pout vanished, replaced by a disturbing, gleeful smile. "Really? All of them?"
"All of them."
"Okay! I'll be a good girl!" She sprang up, light as a feather. With a sudden burst of mana, she vanished into the mist, a predator returning to her element.
Min-jun watched her go, then turned his gaze toward the deeper part of the forest, away from the main battle. He could sense it—a faint, cursed resonance pulsing in the distance. He remembered the lore of this Singularity. He knew who was out there, brooding and wounded, cursed by the very blood that made him invincible.
"Sorry, Jack, but this job requires a different kind of touch," Min-jun muttered, his hand drifting to where his Stand would emerge.
He started walking toward the dense treeline, his eyes narrowing with purpose. A healer Stand wasn't just for fixing broken bones; it was for fixing mistakes.
"Hold on, Siegfried," he whispered into the wind. "I'm coming to fix that back of yours."
Min-jun tore through the dense, fog-choked underbrush of the French countryside. His boots hammered against the sodden earth, splashing through puddles that smelled faintly of iron and rot.
He didn't have a map, but he didn't need one. He had the lore. In the story, Siegfried, the Dragon-Blooded Knight, had isolated himself to avoid becoming a liability to the others due to the curse of Fafnir and the endless waves of Wyverns drawn to him. He was out here somewhere, bleeding out a tragedy that Min-jun intended to rewrite.
"Just hang on, Dragonslayer," Min-jun muttered, vaulting over a fallen log with newfound agility. "I'm not letting you sulk in the woods this time."
A piercing shriek cut through the air, vibrating in his teeth.
Min-jun skid to a halt, his boots carving deep furrows in the mud. Above him, the grey canopy shattered as leathery wings beat against the branches.
One. Two... three. Two more flanked from the rear.
Five Wyverns. The standard infantry of the Dragon Witch, their jaws snapping and eyes glowing with mindless hunger. They circled him, cutting off his escape routes, sensing a lone, servant-less Master ripe for the picking. They dove in unison, a synchronized kill box closing in from all sides.
Min-jun didn't draw his sword. He didn't even flinch. He simply planted his feet and raised his right hand, splaying his fingers wide.
"Tusk."
The air behind him warped, heavy and pink. With the deep, rhythmic thrum of a heavy engine, Tusk materialized.
She raised her own gargantuan hand, her fingers thick and armored.
Min-jun didn't need to shout an attack name. He just focused the Golden Ratio.
On the tips of all five of his fingers, a small, golden spiral ignited. Behind him, Tusk's five fingertips mirrored the glow, but hers were blinding, roaring with the sound of the Infinite Spin.
The Wyverns were mere feet away, claws extended.
Min-jun flicked his wrist forward.
not a sound. Just the terrified tearing of wind.
Five fingernail bullets shot forward simultaneously—one from the thumb, index, middle, ring, and pinky.
They were faster than bullets. They were inevitability made manifest.
Each nail found its mark instantly. The shots didn't just pierce the Wyverns; they twisted them. The moment the spinning energy made contact, the Wyverns' bodies contorted violently, the Infinite Rotation seizing their very cells and spiraling them into oblivion.
There were no screams. Just five simultaneous, wet thuds as the twisted heaps of dragon-kin slammed into the mud around him in a perfect circle.
Min-jun lowered his hand, smoke trailing from his fingertips. Behind him, Tusk Act 4 lowered her massive arm, her job done, and faded back into the astral ether with a low, protective hum.
Min-jun stepped over the corpse of the lead Wyvern, his eyes fixed on the path ahead.
"Too easy."
Following the path down more finally a cave came into sight making him relieved as he took a couple of steps in
Min-jun wiped the mud from his boots as he stepped into the gloom of the cave, the heavy scent of iron and sickness hitting him instantly.
"Halt!"
A lance tip hovered inches from his face. ElizabethBáthory stood there, tail twitching, eyes narrowed. Behind her, Kiyohime gripped her fan, green flames licking the edges of the paper. Deep in the back, slumped against the cold stone, was Siegfried, looking more like a corpse than a hero.
"State your business," Elizabeth demanded. "Are you with the Witch?"
"Chaldea," Min-jun said simply, raising his hand to show the Command Spells. "Reinforcements. Ritsuka is handling the front."
Elizabeth let out a dramatic, relieved sigh, lowering the lance. "Finally! Do you have any idea how exhausting it is in here? Between the brooding knight and the stalker snake, I'm losing my voice!"
"Stalker?!" Kiyohime snapped, her fan cracking shut. "I am a devoted wife protecting her charge! You're the one screeching like a dying banshee every ten minutes!"
"It's called practice, you tone-deaf reptile!"
"Deer-girl!"
As the two devolved into a loud, petty argument about idols versus wives, Min-jun ignored them completely and walked straight to the back of the cave. He knelt beside the Dragonslayer.
Siegfried looked up, sweat beading on his grey skin. "Master... keep your distance. The curse... it draws the enemy. I am a beacon for them."
Min-jun looked at the blackened veins pulsing on Siegfried's chest. "It's a conceptual curse. Gilles and the Alter?"
Siegfried nodded weakly. "It has rewritten my Saint Graph. Standard healing magecraft is useless against it. It is woven into the concept of my existence now."
"I know," Min-jun said quietly. He didn't have a plan, not really. He just had an instinct. A strange, gnawing feeling in the back of his neck that he'd been ignoring since he arrived in this world. "Hold still."
He closed his eyes, centering his breathing. He reached for Crazy Diamond's power on his left—the feeling of fixing, of returning things to how they should be. He reached for Tusk on his right—the sensation of spinning, of infinite motion that could pierce dimensions.
He tried to push them together.
It felt like trying to force two magnets with the same polarity to touch. The energies clashed, grinding against each other in his mind. The restoration fought the destruction of the spin. It wasn't working. He needed a bridge. He needed something to force them to obey.
Merge, he commanded internally. Just... work.
And then, something in the deepest recess of his soul wokeup.
The temperature in the cave plummeted. The shadows in the corners of the room didn't just darken; they seemed to stretch, detaching themselves from the stone walls. A low, guttural vibration filled the air, deeper than sound, rattling the teeth of everyone present.
Elizabeth and Kiyohime went silent instantly, the argument dying in their throats as a primal chill raced up their spines.
Behind Min-jun, the air began to bleed.
A thick, viscous black mist poured out of empty space, curling around his shoulders like a living shroud. It wasn't just smoke; it felt heavy, oppressive, like the weight of a collapsing star. It swirled violently, blotting out the faint light of the cave entrance.
Min-jun's eyes snapped open, but he wasn't looking at Siegfried anymore. He was staring at his own hands, watching as the black mist engulfed his wrists, acting as a terrifying adhesive. It grabbed Crazy Diamond's sapphire light and Tusk's golden rotation and crushed them together.
From within the roiling darkness behind him, two crimson slits opened.
They were eyes. Ancient, jagged, and burning with a malevolent intelligence that made the very concept of "Heroic Spirits" feel small. They stared unblinkingly at Siegfried, not with malice, but with a terrifying curiosity.
Min-jun didn't know what this was. He had never called for it. He didn't even know its name. But he felt its power coursing through him—a power that didn't ask permission, a power that simply took.
The mist forced the two opposing energies into a singular, unstable harmony. The pink aura of restoration was no longer gentle; it was being spun into a violent, high-frequency drill by the Golden Ratio. Rings of black and gold light locked around Min-jun's forearms, grinding like the gears of a doomsday clock.
He didn't speak. He couldn't. The pressure was too immense. He simply slammed his hands down onto Siegfried's chest.
The black mist roared.
"Singularity Drive: Eternal Restoration."