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It’s a hot summer day. Clear blue skies, all the clouds gone. The sun beats down mercilessly upon your body. Moisture crawls down your forehead, threatening to fall on your cheeks. In the distance, a cicada buzzes in the shade of a tree.

You stand in your backyard, holding a curved, wooden sword—a bokken—in your hands. It’s heavy. The grip is coarse. You feel as if an eleven year old girl like you shouldn’t be holding one. They shouldn’t be swinging it through the air, stepping and retreating in a reenactment of the most basic kenjutsu kata.

But you are no ordinary eleven year old girl. You are Airi Hirayama, a fledgling spirit tamer. Your new partner has told you of how the path of the magi is immersed in violence. To this end, you must practice. You must grow strong and be able to protect yourself.

Yet, it hurts.

With every swing, every step, every action, your muscles burn. Your lungs plead for mercy and your vision blurs. The heat is roasting you inside, sucking the moisture through your barren skin. Not for the first time in your life, you curse the way you were born. You curse your frail body, your feeble muscles. You curse the very existence of anemia and all its diseased ilk.

You wonder what you are doing here. You try to answer why a girl with strength so far behind her peers is practicing with a weapon. You start to question if it’s really all worth this agony.

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You swing again and knees threaten to buckle. Your chest is shrieking. The wood is digging red brands into your palms. Slowly but surely, exhaustion is creeping up on you.

You want nothing more to lie down in the shade, close your eyes and rest until the sun goes down. Drop the weapon, forget about the routine, return to the comfort of your room.

And indeed, you almost do. Your fingers loosen. The bokken nearly slides out of your grip and lands on the sun-bleached grass. However, at the last second, you tighten your grip and refuse to let it go. You stare towards the horizon, panting ragged breaths.

Deep down, you know that you cannot quit. Painful as it may be, the alternative is so much worse. Your brother will one day learn about the element of nothingness and it will remind you of the state you were back then.

(You are tired of so many things. Your room is a prison and its windows are the wardens that taunt you. The bills in the mail gnaw at you in the dark. Your brother came home with bruises on his skin and you couldn’t help but burst into tears. When you heard one of the details of Shesmur’s partnership—his ability to call on the faith of his kin and strengthen your blood over time—it felt like nothing short of a miracle.)

You stand there, resting for a moment. Then you grip the bokken tighter, temper your breathing and drop into the stance. Lift the bokken above your head. Swing once. Step forward. Retreat backwards. Put the sword in the guard position. You go through the motions and Shesmur chirps his approval, a solid “Well done.” Your muscles burn, but your heart swells with satisfaction.

Even if it hurts, this is good. You’re not burdening anyone. You’re actively seeking to improve yourself. One day, you’ll recover from the shackles your birth chained you in and you’ll grow into a stronger person.

And maybe, just maybe, you’ll be able to stand beside your dear brother.

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>>Resume being Airi Hirayma.

When you were eleven years old, you ate some very bad food at a local festival. Magi are said to be superhuman, but you were still suffering from anemia and your body was unable to cope with the sudden influx of poison in your stomach. You felt as if the devil itself was nestling in your belly.

Keiichi had been furious. Your mother and Shesmur, even more so. You didn’t say much before the healer spirits got to you, because you were busy upending the contents of your stomach into the kitchen sink. Staring at the muck down there, you thought it wasn’t possible for any living being, spirit or human, to contain that much liquid inside of themselves.

You’re now been proven wrong.

There’s a spirit girl in front of you and she’s vomiting. Actually, that’s not the right word. Vomiting would imply there are pauses in between the retching. No, this is a continuous flow. It is several rivers merged together and stretched out on the steepest mountain known to man. It is a tsunami of pungent blackness that has covered the entire floor of the warehouse before you could blink.

Your nose instantly retches at the smell. You are submerged halfway up your knee. Keiichi looks disturbed. Michiko is horrified, no doubt thinking about her sense of dress. Last but not least, the thugs you were hounding look as if they really would like to wake up.

Your grip tightens on Shesmur’s hilt. You shift into a stance, blade in front, one foot behind the other, muscles ready to spring forward. If the spirit girl will attack, you will be ready for her. Except this doesn’t happen for another a few seconds. The spirit girl flips through the notebook, nods in approval and her body collapses into a pile of ink. It merges with the sea of blackness covering the ground and vanishes from sight.

“What?” You hear yourself say.

And she’s back again, scrambling out behind the thugs, her body reforming itself like slime. Before they can react, she grabs the heads of the tattooed and muscled ones and squeezes with all her might. A sickly, purple light bursts from her hands and pours into the heads of their victims. It illuminates their screaming mouths and bursting eyes, hollow and inflamed like vengeful ghosts. The spirit girl then drops them to the ink face-first.

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There is silence as everyone comprehends what just happened. The last thug, the leader in sunglasses, is the first to react.

“G-get away from me!” He shrieks, scrambling backwards. Without pause for thought, the spirit girls grabs his head, spins him around and repeats the same procedure. A sizzling sound, like cooking meat, fills the air. Keiichi snarls fires another round of shots. They sink into the spirit girl’s body, creating holes but doing nothing. She tosses the thug to the side and grins.

“W-what the heck was that?” Michiko cries, brandishing her staff in the spirit girl’s direction. “What did you do to them?”

“I brainwashed them!” The spirit girl chirps, smiling.

“You what?” Keiichi says, his disbelief partially from the spirit girl having revealed the secret of her technique.

“Yup! So, they’re on my side now. They won’t be when I harvest them, though. Look, they’re getting up now…”

True to the girl’s words, the thugs slowly lumber to their feet. They make squelching noises as they move through the blackness. Their heads swivel towards you and others, movements far controlled to be anything natural. Their eyes have rolled back in their sockets, their sight functional but not comprehending. They shamble forward, dragging their legs against the mud.

“Okay, get them!” The spirit girl cries.

Keiichi barely has time to say an ‘oh shit’ before the muscled one roars like a wounded beast and charges him, knocking him down into the swamp of ink. Michiko gasps and brings her microphone to her lips, only to forced sideways by a blast of lightning from the tattooed ones fingertips. The sunglasses howls and runs with his fists swinging.

“As for you…” You tense at the spirit girl’s words. She plunges her right hand into her stomach and tears out a large blade, as impossible at it sounds. She smiles without malice. “I have to take care of you!”

What will you do?

>Get rid of the thugs first.
>Attack the spirit girl.
>Attempt to escape.
>Destroy the field of ink.
>Custom option.

>>1744085
>>Destroy the field of ink.
Sprinkler system or use the fire hydrants.

So since things are slow, How are you Thorn? You feeling any better over last week? Keichi is using the anti-spirit bullets yeah?

Who's best girl that is not the Last Word?

>IT'S BACK
Yessss

>>1744085
>>Destroy the field of ink.

>>1744085
>Destroy the field of ink.

>>1744085
>Destroy the field of ink.

>>1744117
Better.

Yes, Keiichi has his Anti-Mana Bullets and Avery's Mana-Devouring Bullets.

Last Word is always the best girl and it is heresy to imply otherwise.

Writing now...

>>1744169
>Last Word is always the best girl and it is heresy to imply otherwise.
I mean who would be best girl if best girl was not yet existent?

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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gPqb7gagTJI

>>Airi: Destroy the field of ink.

Yes, that sounds like a good idea. The ink is sticky and thick, effectiveness enough to slow your movements and reduce your AGILITY. This wouldn’t be that much of a problem if you were the bulky and headstrong type, but you’re not. The only one around here who even comes close to matching that criteria is Michiko and she doesn’t have that much ENDURANCE.

Warehouses such as this one always have a sprinkler system. Even if the place has been abandoned for a while, it should still work. You eye a small red box on the far side, attached to a wall. It’s circular and rusted and attached to a small pipe running up to the ceiling. You can’t read what’s written on the front, but the shape is unmistakable.

You quickly communicate with Shesmur about your plan. There’s a hint of silence, and then he chirps out a hearty ‘Do it.’

Confirmation granted, you tense your muscles and prepare to dash towards—

“Okay, let’s go!”

Sudden movement. Your instincts rip you away from your spot, kicking up sludge in the process. A large, flat blade comes slicing through the air. It hits the ground you once stood on, a mixture of a nasty squelch and a concrete-shattering crunch. You recognise the blade as a cleaver knife with a serrated edge. It is pure black and the center seems to be dripping.

The spirit girl rips the cleaver out of the ground with both hands, smiles again and lunges straight at you.

>Roll 1d30 to combat her.
>Best out of three.

Rolled 8 (1d30)

>>1744264

Rolled 22 (1d30)

>>1744264

Rolled 8 (1d30)

Huh. So this is back. Neat!

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The spirit girl comes at you like a man possessed. Her blade is a thick slab of metal that speaks of pain and death. Hard and fast, you find yourself dodging and blocking with Shesmur’s blade. There’s no time to summon your blood, craft an item. The air is soon filled with the sound of clangs and screeching metal.

Elsewhere, your brother hefts up his shotgun and fires a round of pellets at point-blank range. They sink into the chest of the muscled thug and crack his ribs. It does nothing to slow him down; he howls like a lion and punches forward. It connects with your brother’s side, knocking him back. Michiko slams her microphone on the nose of a thug. Cartilage twists and blood spurts out. Empty eyes glare at your friend and she finds herself on the receiving end of a wind blast.

A smile from the spirit girl. A quick heft, then a lunge. You sidestep. Not good enough. Part of the serrated edge rips a small cut on your cheek. You wince at the pain. The cost of holding Shesmur’s blade is your blood and you can’t afford to waste a single drop. The girl swipes to the side. This time, you block. The two of you struggle in place, blade against blade.

Despite all the STRENGTH you’re putting in, you’re being overpowered. Your hands are shaking with the effort. Shesmur strains and grunts. You sense a gap in his defenses. Knowing you can’t hold on for much longer, you put force into your next strike and swing upwards.

A flash of crimson. A loud hiss of metal. The cleaver is deflected upwards. It’s a miniscule distance, but the spirit girl wasn’t expecting it. She almost stumbles and it gives you enough time to retreat, put some distance between you and her.

You notice that a sizeable crack has formed in the black cleaver. Ink drips down from the top of the blade and seals up the holes. It happens so quickly that you almost overlook it.

Damn, what to do? Her movements are full of strength and her pursuit is relentless. On any ordinary day, you would be able to dance around them, but your movements are restricted. On the plus side, you’re now closer to the sprinkler alarm. For all her power, the spirit girl doesn’t seem particularly intelligent. You managed to guide her here with your footwork.

“Oi, Airi. You need to do something, or y’all fall here.”

Thank you Shesmur, that is some truly helpful advice. Maybe you can use your next encounter to your advantage.

The spirit girl swings her cleaver once more, and you…

>Parry.
>Block.
>Dodge and run past her.
>Destroy the cleaver.
>Custom option.

>>1744343
>Parry.
>>Dodge and run past her.

>>1744343
>>Dodge and run past her.

>>1744264
>Lisa
Are the other games any good? Only bothered to play the first one.

>>1744343
>Parry.
And just like that, my mental image of Shesmur splinters and reforms.

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>>Airi: Parry, then run past her.

The cleaver comes down like a sledgehammer. There is no finesse, only power. In that short instant, you raise your own blade, ignoring Shesmur’s protests towards your decision, and steel yourself…

>Roll 1d30 to parry.
>Best out of three.

Rolled 11 (1d30)

>>1744417
NAT 30

Rolled 7 (1d30)

>>1744417

Rolled 24 (1d30)

>>1744417

>>1744432
CLUTCH

>>1744432
Based

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>>1744444
>>1744447

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The blade arrives. You grit your teeth and rush forward to meet the spirit girl. Your blades clash once more. But instead of struggling like before, instead of attacking the thick slab of blackness, you sidestep and attack the girl’s wrist. It’s another unexpected move. She’s caught off guard again and instinctively freezes up.

In that moment, you see that opportunity. You slash again, aiming for the girl’s wrist. It’s like cutting through grass. The girl’s arm, a peach-colored thing with black ink oozing out the stump, goes spiraling through the air. The cleaver falls with it. You quickly conjure a blood knife, a rush job at best, and throw it towards the girl. It detonates in her face, blinding her.

You take the opportunity to make a mad dash for the fire alarm.

“But what if it’s broken?” Your partner suggests.

“Then I’ll have to use my Ultimate or something.” You reply. You’re hoping it doesn’t come to that, simply because a sudden loss of blood is never a pleasant thing.

You slam your hand on the rusted button. For a second, nothing happens. Then you hear a series of spluttering noises high above. A drop of water falls from the sky and lands on your nose. A few more follow. And then, a sheer downpour descends upon the warehouse. It tastes mildly of copper.

The water strikes the ink. The level rises, but the density has fallen. The blackness you’re standing in is no longer as sticky or thick as before. Much to your relief, it no longer feels like you’re wading through a swamp. More like running through an ankle-high pool of water, at the very least.

The spirit girl is not pleased. At all. “Hey, that’s not fair!” She shouts at you. “You can’t do that!”

Frustrated, she consults her notebook and squeals as the water lands on the pages, softening them. She hurriedly stashes it away. She picks up her discarded arm, reattaches it and grabs the cleaver. You notice she doesn’t seem affected by the sudden loss of a limb, or the fact that the body of her weapon is rolling downwards like an oil canvas in heat.

“Is that…nah, it can’t be.”

“Shesmur, do you know something?”

“Keep attacking her. I need confirmation, Airi. If it's what I think it is...damn.”

The question is, do you want to?

>Ask her to surrender.
>Attack without mercy.
>Help your allies clean up.
>Custom option.

>>1744626
>Attack without mercy.

>>1744626
>Attack without mercy.

>>1744626
>>Attack without mercy.

>>1744626
>>Attack without mercy.

>>1744626
>Attack without mercy

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You decide that not giving this spirit girl any pause for thought is the best decision. AGILITY restored, you charge forward with all your gusto and clash blades once more. Again, the cleaver slices through the air, the serrated edges ripping ghosts against your skin. Again, you weave in and dodge, but with more aptitude than before. Shesmur’s edge cuts thick rivulets in the spirit girl’s skin. No blood is drawn. That’s sort of expected for spirits—their biology is far removed from that of humanity’s—but you haven’t seen spirits that leak ink.

The cuts seal back up and the spirit girl continues to attack in a frenzy, swiping with her all her strength. You attack and attack and attack and there’s no visible outcome whatsoever. Bruises vanish, cuts heal and limbs fly off like frail branches, then snap back in place a second later. Fatigue hits you, weighing down your limbs.


“Yeah, figures…”

“What is it, Shesmur?”

“She’s intangible. You can’t hurt her.”

“Excuse me?”

“Not with physical attacks…gotta put some mana in them.”

You pause.


“But, I don’t know how to do that.”

“I can, but it’ll cost you some blood.”

You pause again. The impossibility has now been made possible through your partnership, but at the risk of your constitution. The more blood is drained, the weaker you become and the less time you can fight with. Adrenaline can only carry you so far.

Before you can answer, you hear the blast of a gun and a loud shout. You and the spirit girl turn around to see Keiichi and Michiko standing before three unconscious thugs, faint frails of magic steaming off them. Your brother is nursing a welt on his cheek, holes are in his tracksuit and his fingers are tightened around his shotgun. Michiko’s hair is a mess and she’s clutching her microphone stand, which is chipped and covered in ink. If looks could kill, these two would be professional assassins.

The spirit girl pauses for thought. She flips through her notebook. Keiichi doesn’t let her. He draws his new revolver and charges it with his magic. The familiar void magic, you recognize. He fires two shots at the spirit girl, just like before. This time, she dodges. One bullet scrapes against her chest and the other sinks into her shoulder. There’s actual blood this time. The wounds don’t heal. The spirit girl hisses in pain, falling to one knee, and glares at your brother, eyes wide with shock.

“You shouldn’t be able to do that!” She exclaims. “Master said I was invincible!”

“So anything magic can hurt you, huh? That’s good to know.” Your brother says, “By the way, your minions were a real pain in the ass. Fucking illusion magic…”

He hefts his revolver and fires again. The spirit girl blurs, a mass of black dashing over to the window and reforming beneath it. Apparently being outnumbered three to one is too much for her.

>Pursue
>Do not pursue, tend to the wounded.
>Custom option.

>>1744961
>Pursue

>>1744961
>>Pursue

>>1744961
>Pursue
Aw hell naw.

>>1744961
>>Pursue

>not pursuing a cute girl
Come on, Thorn

Damn it, why does real life have to get in the way now? And just when I had made time for myself too...sorry guys, the session will have to end here. I'll see if I can make updates over the rest of the week.

Archived Thread: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/1744060
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>>1745110
Fug.

Thanks for running, man.

>>1745110
thanks for running! what happened?

>>1745179
It's a private thing that involves my family. Nobody's physically hurt, which is good.

>>1745197
that's good. best of luck man

>>1744060
Go fuck yourself

>>1745110
Thanks for running
Honestly, I'd prefer you update every once and a while when you can, rather than wait weeks not knowing when you'll be back.

>>1745197
Thanks for running