Artificially modified Honkai beasts?
"Cat-shaped ones?"
Otto arched a brow, genuine intrigue flickering in his eyes.
Durandal's future pet, Stan, was precisely such a creature—an artificially altered Emperor-class Honkai beast.
"Cats?!"
For a fleeting instant, the little goose's excitement surpassed even his own, only to deflate moments later.
"No, Overseer."
"Any humans near the beasts?"
"Mm… yes."
Durandal nodded.
"During the pursuit, I glimpsed a woman in black, but she vanished the instant I gave chase."
She paused, recalling.
"Ah—yes. She carried a purple sniper rifle. It radiated a genuine sense of threat."
"Oh, a sniper—sniper rifle?" Otto's expression froze.
"Yes. The barrel seemed to glow with purple light."
"…Bianca Hollander Ataegina." The man fixed her with a grave stare.
"What is it, Overseer?"
Otto regarded her with the weary sympathy one reserves for a perpetually unlucky child.
"Every time, you truly do snatch your fortune back from the jaws of oblivion."
"Why say that???"
"Should I proclaim to the world that you are my final disciple?" Otto evaded, asking with earnest solemnity instead. "That way, when you venture forth, other organizations might exercise a measure of restraint."
Durandal: ???
Otto lifted his gaze to the luminous moon, exhaling long and slow. For reasons he could scarcely name, a maternal ache stirred within—the fretful worry of a parent watching their child wander far from home.
Goose baby, oh goose baby. If my suspicions hold true, you are fortunate indeed not to have caught her this time.
…
Back in the residence, Otto and Cecilia finally parted their hands.
The woman stared into the distance for a long while before murmuring.
"Sniper… sniper rifle… what was that about?"
"What sniper rifle?"
Otto sprawled upon the sofa, responding languidly.
"The one… the one we just discussed—the sniper—sniper rifle," Cecilia pressed with faint urgency, gesturing animatedly with both hands and mimicking Otto's earlier tone. "You even corrected Dur…andal."
Oh, the sniper rifle… Wait, lady, is it possible I merely stuttered?
This Cecilia is adorably clueless.jpg
"To me," Otto answered without stirring, eyes closed, "it represents only potential profit."
"And… Miss Durandal?"
"That rests with fate," Otto replied. "So long as she avoids taking a bullet, all paths remain open—I shall watch over her regardless."
"Thank you." Otto heard Cecilia exhale in quiet relief.
"I watched her grow," he remarked offhandedly, sowing emotional seeds. "We are quite close. For instance, earlier—she may bypass my secretary and report directly to me. She is the finest student in my heart. No thanks are needed."
"Okay." Cecilia answered softly, a serene smile blooming across her features.
"Of course, I have no intention of sending her there for now."
Otto gauged her mood and continued.
"She will enter seclusion for training soon. In three days, she may submit her S-rank Valkyrie examination application to Amber. By early next year, she shall become Schicksal's newest S-rank Valkyrie."
"S-rank Valkyrie…" Cecilia seemed to grasp a fleeting shard of memory—a Valkyrie receiving a medal from a blond man. "That… must be truly arduous, mustn't it?"
"…"
Already fretting like a mother before recognition dawns…
Otto marveled once more at the profound resonance between mother and daughter, nodding.
"Indeed, quite exhausting. Were I her father, I would wish to shoulder all her burdens myself—let her play carefree with friends for a few days, untroubled."
"Then… where is her father?"
"Off pursuing freedom," Otto replied—he had awaited this opening to plant subtle venom. "He seized one of my experimental subjects, claiming it was for her liberty and protection. Result: he cannot see his daughter. Then he lost control, abandoned the subject in the wilderness, and fled to another organization."
"That… experimental subject… sounds rather pitiful."
"…?"
What sixth sense allows her to pinpoint pity for her own child from two heavily slanted remarks?!
Otto opened his eyes, staring in astonishment.
Are women's intuitions truly this formidable?!
Cecilia shifted uneasily beneath his direct gaze.
"Onii-sama, what shall we do next?"
"Let us count our steps—we did wander quite far from the office," Otto mused, rising from the sofa. "So—rest."
"Rest?"
Cecilia's mind blanked briefly, yet she washed up obediently, changed into the pajamas Amber had delivered earlier, and waited beside Otto.
He understood and guided her toward the master bedroom.
"You must make do here tonight. We shall decide later whether you receive new quarters or reclaim the old."
Not a hardship at all.
Cecilia heard her heart reply.
She lay in bed, watching the man's silhouette at the threshold. For a moment, an impulse surged—to ask him to remain and sleep beside her.
The notion perished the instant it formed—vague recollections extinguishing it. Increasingly vivid fragments whispered: no matter what, avoid burdening the man before her.
And he resides here anyway.
He is near. Thus, loneliness need not be feared.
The swirling thoughts gradually ebbed, yet deep within, an unnamed seed quietly took root, awaiting its moment to sprout.
Onii-sama… is such a gentle, reassuring presence.
Sleep claimed her. Cecilia mumbled an indistinct "Good night" toward the doorway, then sank into the pillow and drifted away.
Thirteen years of cryogenic slumber differed vastly from true repose.
Especially near-brain-dead hibernation—her mind had only resumed normal function after Otto issued the command to the Book of Wei.
Otto lingered at the door, watching Cecilia succumb to sleep with her head upon the pillow before even drawing the covers. A tender smile curved his lips.
To fall asleep so unguarded… means she trusts me utterly.
Otto tucked Cecilia in properly, then departed the room. He settled upon the sofa, closed his eyes to rest, and reviewed the day's whirlwind before slumber.
What an extraordinary few hours: transmigrating into Otto Apocalypse, earning Void Archives' wary approval, claiming the golden finger, rescuing Cecilia Schariac, accompanying the amnesiac saint through bath, stroll, and meal, flirting with Cecilia before Durandal…
Along the way, orchestrating strikes against Theresa and Siegfried, igniting the World Serpent conquest, occasionally casting glances toward Anti-Entropy…
He knew not how he measured against the original, nor could he vow superior outcomes. After all, usurping the body of current-era humanity's intellectual zenith would unsettle anyone.