Disclaimer: I own nothing, this is purely a fanfic for enjoyment.
Cross-over from various games, books, anime, manga, and movies.
The familiar characters you see here belong to their respected authors and owners.
"Speech"
Time*
Chapter 70: The Grand Plans
The next day*
I let out a quiet sigh as I stretch my stiff muscles, pushing myself up from my seat and leaving the table behind after having my fill at the buffet.
Time to do something that would undoubtedly cause panic for everyone else.
I activate the Right Glove of Traveling, then do it again immediately. The first jump lands me in the wrong location, but the second corrects it, and reality folds neatly around me as I reappear in the basement of some wealthy family's estate. The air is cold, unnaturally so. I move forward without hesitation, my eyes settling on a massive block of ice dominating the room, a shadowy figure suspended deep within its frozen depths.
I draw out the Error's Uniqueness.
It's no longer bound by the old limitation of three seconds per day. Now, as long as I have sufficient Spirituality—supplied by the Cards of Blasphemy—I can use it freely. Something that shouldn't be possible. I'm not complaining, but the freedom makes me cautious. With no fixed cost to its activation, a single misjudgment could drain nearly all of my Spirituality in an instant.
The Uniqueness reshapes itself into a crystal monocle, which I place over my right eye—a small smile tugs at my lips.
I channel a measured amount of Spirituality into it and focus on the frozen mass. Decryption activates, prying secrets from the tiniest scraps of information, forcing patterns to reveal themselves. A Loophole forms—subtle, precise, usable.
I clench my right hand into a fist and strike.
The giant block of ice shatters effortlessly. An Error had already been imposed, a flaw introduced where none should exist, creating a breaking point just waiting to be exploited.
I stare at the person who had been trapped inside the giant block of ice. Now fully revealed, he's a tall, muscular adult male. Deep scars mark the left side of his face and run across his forehead, giving him a perpetually severe look. His hair is split into two tones—black and gray. The black hair on top spikes upward, while the sides are buzzed short, the lighter color standing out sharply. He wears a white dress shirt with a loosely knotted tie that hangs almost to his waist. Black pants are secured with a black belt and silver buckle, tucked neatly into black boots that rise to his shins.
This man is Xanxus—the current leader of the Varia, the independent assassination squad of the Vongola Famiglia, a character in the Katekyo Hitman Reborn series.
I don't say a word.
I walk over, grab Xanxus by his left ankle, and activate the Right Glove of Traveling once more. Space twists, folds, and snaps into place as we relocate.
Moments later, I appear in Momoyo's room. By now, she should still be there.
Sure enough, the instant I arrive, I'm greeted by a familiar sight—Momoyo glaring daggers at Alucard, who is glaring right back at her. The tension is so thick you can choke on it. Both of them snap their heads toward me at the same time, eyes blazing with pure killing intent.
"Xanxus?!" Momoyo shouts in disbelief.
She rushes over immediately and starts slapping him across the face without hesitation. "Wake up!" She yells, striking him again. "Tell me where you've been all this time!"
I subtly adjust the Error's Uniqueness and use Theft, targeting Xanxus directly. In an instant, I snatch his future possible member's position as a Cloud Guardian and take it for myself.
The effect is immediate—and violent.
An overwhelming urge to destroy everything around me surges up without warning. Deep within me, the Sefirot: City of Calamity—stirs in response. I clamp down on it hard, suppressing the impulse before it can manifest. Even so, I notice something troubling: it tried to interfere, to influence the newly formed artificial bond between Xanxus and me.
My right eye begins twitching uncontrollably.
At the same time, another presence awakens. The Sefirot: Knowledge Moor—floods my mind with forbidden insight, dumping ritualistic knowledge directly into my consciousness. Methods to seal away… or outright destroy… someone's Dying Will Flame, achievable through rituals alone, unravel themselves in precise, horrifying detail.
That's enough.
I immediately put the Error's Uniqueness away.
The side effects are unmistakable now. I should have known better—being able to use the Error's Uniqueness freely, so long as I had enough fuel in the form of Spirituality, was far too convenient to come without consequences. Its prolonged activation made it far too easy for the Sefirot to stir, to act, to push.
Once the Uniqueness is sealed away into the Cards of Blasphemy, the pressure fades. The Sefirot quiet down, retreating into uneasy dormancy.
My right eye stops twitching instantly.
Without giving anyone a chance to react—not even a fully awakened Xanxus—I act.
The wires of the Immortality Marble Glove snap outward in an instant, binding Xanxus, Momoyo, and Alucard all at once. The room tightens as if caught in a web.
"No one speaks. I need to think." I say calmly, placing my left index finger against my lips.
More wires spill from my left hand, spreading across the room. They anchor into walls, furniture, and the floor itself, redistributing the burden onto the environment so I can suppress the three of them simultaneously—clean, controlled, temporary.
I step in front of Xanxus and raise my right hand. Two fingers strike his central nerve point with deadly precision.
A pale blue aura of Spirituality erupts around him as the internal flow of energy is forcibly suppressed. His body shudders once, violently, before locking up completely—paralyzed, conscious, and unable to resist.
I repeat the process with Momoyo.
Then with Alucard.
Two strikes each. No hesitation.
With all three immobilized, the room finally goes still.
I pull a nearby chair closer, sit down, and lean back slightly, my gaze unfocused as I sink into thought—carefully, slowly, and very aware that what I decide next will matter.
For one thing, why did I feel that sudden urge to pull Xanxus out of his ice prison so early and bring him straight to Momoyo? That alone made no sense. I had already decided I wouldn't see Momoyo anytime soon—same with Alucard—yet here I was, doing the exact opposite of what I'd planned.
I tap my chin, thinking harder than before, letting the question linger.
I've already gone through my self-reflection on life itself, turned those thoughts over more times than I care to admit. In three more days, it would officially mark a full month since I regained my memories from my past life—and since I obtained the 22 Cards of Blasphemy.
Something is wrong. Either something is messing with my mind, or something is actively influencing the series of my actions—nudging me, subtly but persistently. And then there's the strangest part of all: what made me want to become Xanxus's Cloud Guardian? The impulse felt too random, too forced. It didn't feel like a decision I reasoned myself into. Especially not when, the moment that the artificial bond formed, the Sefirot: City of Calamity—immediately tried to extend its influence toward Xanxus through it.
That reaction alone should have been a warning.
I close my eyes, shutting out the surrounding sounds.
Suddenly, I pull off the Right Glove of Traveling and the Immortality Marble Glove, tossing both into my backpack without hesitation. The effect is immediate. My mind clears—too clean, like a fog being ripped away rather than slowly lifted. More than that, I can feel my control over the Sefirot strengthen.
Especially the Sefirah Castle.
The connection deepens, tightening through the Cards of Blasphemy as if it's finally able to breathe freely again. The same holds true for the other Sefirot—subtle, but undeniable. They respond more cleanly now, without resistance or distortion.
I really want to facepalm right now. Really. But I can't—not yet. What matters is that I finally understand.
The Immortality Marble Glove had a hidden flaw—one I couldn't perceive before due to my low Sequence. But now, as a Sequence 8 Beyonder of multiple Pathways, I can sense it clearly. It wasn't just a tool; it was a quiet danger, constantly exerting influence beneath my awareness. The Right Glove of Traveling has a similar issue, though far less severe. Still, it's been tainted—likely influenced indirectly by prolonged exposure to the Immortality Marble Glove.
That influence will need to be cleaned.
A Sefirot cleansing would be required, and the Sefirah Castle is the obvious choice.
Ah. Right.
The moment I removed the Immortality Marble Glove, the wires vanished instantly, dissolving as if they'd never existed in the first place. Thankfully, I'd already used the Nerve Strike on Momoyo, Alucard, and Xanxus beforehand—just in case. Sometimes paranoia really does pay off.
"Anyway, Momoyo. I brought Xanxus here to help you or for you to help him. Either way, he's here now, and he's free from his prison. You're welcome, by the way."
I glance at Xanxus as I say it. He's still paralyzed, his expression twisted into a furious scowl—though, honestly, that might just be his default face.
"Right. I'm leaving." I continue calmly. "Let Rion and Sakamoto know I won't be able to finish the mission with them."
Before turning away, I poke the three of them a few more times, injecting additional Spirituality into their bodies. The reaction is subtle but immediate, the energy settling in like a delayed switch waiting to flip.
"You'll be able to move in a few minutes." I add offhandedly. "Alucard will be free in about half a minute. So that's that."
With nothing more to say, I pull out a Teleportation Charm. The moment it activates, space folds, and I vanish from Momoyo's bedroom without another glance back.
Exiting the Spirit World, I reappear inside one of the shrine's buildings. The space is quiet and hollow, its air thick with age. At the center sits a well, its opening sealed beneath several heavy wooden boards, nailed down as if someone had been afraid of what lay below.
I use Door Opening, slipping past the boards without disturbing them, and descend into the well with ease. Halfway down, I draw out the Error's Uniqueness, which reshapes itself into a pair of gloves around my hands. A second Teleportation Charm follows, and I summon the Cards of Fool, Error, and Door. Through them, the Sefirah Castle's influence projects outward, reinforcing the charm until the surrounding space feels thin and brittle.
I focus on the artificial bond between Xanxus and myself—and finally understand. The urge, the impulsive decisions, the strange chain of events… it wasn't random. My Spirituality had been guiding me through a series of actions meant to strengthen and advance me further as a Beyonder.
With that realization settled, I shatter the bond.
Reality reacts violently.
A massive Error ripples outward, and the world around me stutters—textures misalign, space fractures, and everything glitches as if existence itself failed to keep up. Then, abruptly, I find myself standing at the bottom of the well.
I climb out.
The shrine is gone.
Instead, I emerge into a small forest. The well sits slightly sunken into the earth, its stone rim chipped and weathered, the surface rough with centuries of wear. Moss clings to the stones in thick patches, softening their edges, while thin cracks spiderweb through the masonry like old scars.
The clearing itself is uneven and cramped, carved awkwardly out of the surrounding trees—as if the forest had grown around the well reluctantly. It gives off the distinct impression that the well doesn't belong here at all… or perhaps that nothing else does.
I take a deep breath, then slowly exhale. Reaching into my pack, I pull out another Teleportation Charm and slip it into my pocket before zipping the backpack shut. With a thought, I toss it into the Sefirah Castle for safekeeping—along with suppressing both the Immortality Marble Glove and the Right Glove of Traveling, sealing their influence away for now.
Good.
Now… time to cause some problems.
I reshape the Error's Uniqueness first, transforming it into a blank white mask—smooth, featureless, with only two hollow eye holes. I place it over my face, the world immediately feeling more distant, more abstract. Next, I draw out the Hanged Man's Uniqueness, letting it unravel into a black, fog-laden robe that drapes over my entire body, swallowing my form until only the white mask remains visible through the shifting haze. Finally, I summon Death's Uniqueness, its power condensing into the unmistakable shape of a massive, lethal scythe, its presence heavy and absolute in my grasp.
With my transformation complete, all 22 Cards of Blasphemy rise and begin to orbit me at a slow speed. The cards tied to the Sefirot drift outward, projecting their influence into the surrounding space, while the others draw closer, clustering near my body.
The Sefirah Castle exhales a veil of gray fog, and everywhere it drifts, reality subtly changes. Space dulls, boundaries blur, and my presence becomes nearly impossible to detect by any conventional or supernatural means. Perception slides off me, as if the world itself refuses to acknowledge what stands within the haze.
From within that fog, the City of Calamity awakens.
The sound of a modern city bleeds into the forest—traffic hums, distant sirens wail, muffled conversations overlap, but none of it has a visible source. Within the gray, shadowy figures begin to form. Some are warped into grotesque shapes: a single oversized head dragging a blood-slick spine behind it; others are impeccably dressed yet completely headless; still others are bloated and swollen, their silhouettes pulsing unnaturally as they move. They drift alongside me, silent, malformed echoes of urban ruin.
The Nation of Disorder releases its own gray smoke, intertwining with the gray fog. The environment twists further—trees lean at impossible angles, distances feel inconsistent, and shapes seem to rearrange themselves when not directly observed. Yet amid the chaos, there is an unsettling balance, as if the disorder is being carefully regulated. The distortion grows more pronounced, but never collapses into total instability.
The Key of Light manifests next, forming multiple hovering orbs of pale radiance around me—most of them orbiting the shadowy figures walking at my side. The light does not comfort. Instead, it exposes. Anyone foolish enough to look too closely at those figures sees their true forms illuminated in horrifying clarity. Worse still, the orbs serve another purpose: they act as beacons, quietly luring distant observers toward us, curiosity and dread pulling them forward in equal measure.
Beneath my feet, the River of Eternal Darkness flows.
Broad. Straight. Dark. Completely colorless.
It moves silently, following me wherever I go, its surface smooth and indifferent. Those who dare to touch it are welcomed without resistance, drawn gently yet irrevocably toward their next—and final—destination.
Finally, the Knowledge Moor scatters itself across the area. Worn, yellowed papers drift through the air and litter the ground, each covered in dense, crawling script. The knowledge written upon them is not meant to be read. A single glance is enough to shatter sanity—or end a life outright—yet the pages wander freely, brushing against the edges of perception like a cruel temptation.
Together, the Sefirot advance with me.
And the world bends, not because it must, but because it understands it has no other choice.
I feel alive.