Streamer in the Omniverse

Conversation and Aura.

Quick note: I'm a few hours late, sorry about that. This chapter is longer than usual to make up for it.

Next chapter: February 14th.

Quick note2: I wrote this chapter while traveling. I really hate writing on my phone, so I wrote this chapter in my notebook at the time and later digitized it. Usually, the chapters I do this way have a different writing style since I can’t just press CTRL + Z and similar shortcuts on an A4 sheet of paper.

Just a heads-up, since some people have mentioned that the writing feels different whenever this happens.

That said, good Night and happy reading!

[...]---[...]

The breakfast was quick.

Neither Charlotte nor Helena brought up any serious matters. Everyone just ate and talked about lighter topics, probably leaving the "main issue," so to speak, for the end. I thought they — maybe even Melissa and Darnell — might ask or bring up the fact that I was an alien, but no.

Of course, there were glances; I could almost feel the surprise emanating from Charlotte and Helena, and what seemed to be a "Damn, I knew something was off!" from Melissa. If they were human, it would’ve been simple to sense their emotions, but since they weren’t — and the emotions weren’t negative, which would’ve made it easier — I couldn’t.

Curiously, Darnell seemed to be the calmest. Something along the lines of, "Well, I still have to work tomorrow..." Frankly, his reaction was kind of amusing to me. I could see myself having the same reaction.

Most of the conversation was led by Selina, who asked me everything she could about the Proto-A: how the ship was made, the materials, its functionalities, and anything else she could think of.

To be honest, I held back on the information I gave. Not because I wanted to keep everything about the ship a secret — well, not entirely — but because I was afraid Selina might actually suffer something — be it a heart attack, a stroke, or an orgasm. Any of those were possible, and I didn’t want any of them happening at my table while everyone was having breakfast, much less with the stream on.

Once the meal was over, I had a brief mental conversation with Jinn, and she got up to take Selina to see the Proto-A. Jinn was the best person to answer Selina's questions and keep her entertained. Melissa and Darnell ended up following the two a few seconds later, each for a different reason.

Melissa said she needed to clear her head and organize her thoughts. The envy on Charlotte's face was something the princess didn’t even try to hide. It looked like she wanted to switch places with the nurse but knew she couldn’t, no matter how much she might’ve wanted to.

Darnell simply followed Melissa, saying that whatever topic we were about to discuss was probably above his pay grade. That, and he wanted to see if he could learn a few things to use in his weapons.

Jinn seemed pleased to accompany the four away from the dining room.

("I'll keep an eye on them. Use our connection to ask me anything if you have doubts. The mark's 'battery' is full; it should last for a few hours.") Her voice echoed in my mind.

("Just keep an eye on Selina. Melissa and Darnell aren’t my real concern. And don’t let her go to the control room!") I shot my thoughts back at her.

With a mental chuckle, heard only by me, she and the other three left the room. I could still sense them — the air flow around them, the sound of their steps, and the mana — but I didn’t focus on it.

After the four left, I cleared the table with a gesture, pulling everything into the VoidBag. Everyone fell silent for a moment. I looked around. Gilbert and Robyn didn’t seem inclined to follow the others outside and remained seated to my left, even though they chose to stay silent, probably because they had the least "status" in the room.

Well, theoretically, I was a beggar, so I had the least status, but fine.

The same went for Dylan, who stayed to my right, facing his mother, while I was facing the princess and Alalia. The dryad remained in her doll-like form, which I assumed was for the safety of others.

The dryad had created a small wooden chair attached to the edge of the table and sat there, eating far more than the small doll-like body could possibly hold. It was impressive, in a way.

The first to speak was Charlotte.

“First of all, I must welcome you.” She placed one hand over the other elegantly. “Welcome to Terraria, Devas. I hope my kingdom has treated you well since your arrival.”

“Formalities?” I asked.

“You are not just someone from another country but from another world. I believe formalities are necessary.” Her response was reserved. “I imagine you’d want an ambassador’s visa.”

“Not at all.” Her expression was odd, which amused me a bit. For some reason, Helena didn’t seem surprised by my answer. “I like how things are currently. Even if it’s just an empty title, I don’t want more responsibilities than I already have.”

Translation: I already have too many problems; don’t screw me over by piling more onto my shoulders, thank you very much.

“And didn’t you say you hadn’t planned on any official matters?”

“That was before I learned you were an ali—” She corrected herself before finishing the word. “Someone from outside this world. I’m afraid that forced me to rethink my plans.”

“Fair enough.” I shrugged and clasped my hands, resting my elbows on the table. “And the word ‘alien’ doesn’t bother me. That’s what I am to you.”

“I felt it might sound offensive.”

“It’s not, don’t worry.” I didn’t care much about it.

“... Alright. Miss Jinn and Alalia gave us a brief explanation of the matter, but I still have some questions. Would it be possible for you to answer them?”

I responded with a silent nod. Charlotte hummed to herself for a moment before speaking again.

“This technology.” She pointed around. “Is it something common in the world you came from? I mean, your home world.”

“In parts, yes. But this ship is from Jinn’s world, not mine,” I replied.

Jinn had explained my situation, which included hers as well. I noticed she didn’t mention anything about the stream — neither Dylan nor anyone else from my group had brought it up, by the way. Thus, Charlotte wasn’t surprised when I said Jinn’s home world and mine were different.

The princess nodded before looking at Helena. The two exchanged a glance for a moment, with Oakwood’s mother giving a subtle nod. Charlotte turned back to me.

The next questions varied.

Could I bring more people, as I had brought Jinn? My answer was: “Maybe.” Jinn was a special case, but with the Pylons — which I didn’t reveal — it would theoretically be possible.

Not that I’d do it, for obvious reasons.

The third question was whether everyone of my race — humans, whose name sounded strange in her language, I noticed — was like me, as strong as I was.

("She wants an army. Either that, or she’s worried about an invasion.") Ozma spoke in my mind.

("Both are equally likely.") I responded mentally. ("Frankly, I don’t think she needs one, with Alalia by her side.")

("Relying on one person alone for the kingdom’s safety is foolish. As powerful as Miss Alalia may be, from her perspective, the kingdom was still drowning in blood.") Ozma reminded me.

("And I still want to know how the hell that happened...”)

I paused the mental conversation and answered the princess with the truth: “There are stronger and weaker humans. I don’t consider myself anywhere near the top.”

That was the plain truth, from my perspective and knowledge. Ozma chose not to comment, but many in the (CHAT) strongly disagreed. I disagreed with them. I knew the monsters that existed; they didn’t.

[BrowCranwen]

This guy doesn’t consider himself near the top... I must be closer to a worm than I thought.

[So-Tan]

On a global scale, no, but for humans, in my opinion, you’re at the top.

[TheBestAndMostBeautifulThief]

I must be made of wet paper, then...

I ignored the comments that appeared as cards in front of me. Charlotte didn’t seem to believe my answer, judging by her expression. Neither did Helena, but neither of them insisted. Alalia was content to stay silent and watch, as were the Terrarians on my side of the table.

After a few more questions, she reached the topic I had been expecting.

"Do you intend to help us with this current situation?" The words carried a hint of trepidation. "If not, what would it take to change your mind?"

I noticed Helena furrowed her brow for a moment but chose not to comment. I had an idea why. Charlotte seemed desperate, not even waiting for my response before offering something in exchange for my help.

She had been the acting princess for quite some time, frequently dealing with nobles, as I had briefly researched. For that reason, I doubted she didn’t know how to "play the game." I couldn’t understand why she was giving away cards like this for free...

“With the storm, the sick, or the traitors?” I asked.

“All of it.”

I thought for a moment before answering: “I have a few conditions—three in total—but yes, I do intend to help Terraria.” Not just because it was the best option for me as well, but because I had friends here. This was their home.

“What conditions?” she asked after a moment, her voice carrying a more regal tone than before. “Name them. If they are within my reach, I shall grant them.”

Unclasping my hands, I replied after organizing my thoughts:

“First: information.” I raised one finger on my right hand. “There’s some information I want that I couldn’t find in a library or by asking Dylan. I feel the Crown or the Order of Guides might possess it.”

It was brief, but I noticed a flicker of what seemed like anger—or something similar—in Helena’s gaze when I mentioned the Order of Guides. I mentally filed that away under “There’s definitely something fishy here.” Charlotte didn’t take long to respond.

“I imagine you’d rather say what information after the fact?” she asked. I nodded. “Very well. I cannot promise I will have it, let alone speak on behalf of the Order of Guides, but I will do my best to obtain it. What is your second condition?”

My gaze briefly landed on Alalia.

“Alalia—”

“If my body is required for your assistance, I would gladly make that sacrifice.” The small wooden doll spread her arms wide.

I ignored the messages in the (CHAT), Robyn’s amused huff, Charlotte’s scandalized gasp, Gilbert’s restrained laughter, and Dylan’s sigh—which was synchronized with his mother’s across the table. Both even brought their hands to their foreheads in the same way.

“It’s my fault; I should’ve expected this,” I said, just as with Jinn. “You seem happier, more relaxed,” I commented.

You know, thinking back, I’d associated the term "heinous crimes" with murder, rape, torture, and the like. But in a world where magic existed, that list could be far more extensive. Considering that all the prisoners here seemed essentially sealed away, that list was undoubtedly much worse as well...

It was almost instinctive. I pulled the Bone Helm from my inventory and placed it on my head. The widening of Dylan’s eyes said he recognized where—and from whom—that item came. I ignored the four who were now staring at me with curiosity and suspicion and focused for a brief moment.

The shadows deepened. The light illuminating the environment grew frail.

“... Why are these people still alive?”

Not one of them had committed fewer than heinous crimes. Not one bore less than ten or more innocent lives on their conscience. None of them should still be breathing...

Sins. I could feel them. Each one.

The Shadowflame writhed within me. Hunger. It wanted me to use it. It pulsed just beneath my skin.

“Twenty-seven victims. Twenty-two children. Experiments with earth, crystal, and stone magic. Murder. Torture. Terrarian experimentation...” I looked at the cell to my right. A man stared back at me in terror, behind the glass. The air around me grew cold. “He wanted to create a golem as intelligent as a person. Something self-sufficient.”

“‘Children are more malleable. They adapt better.’” I spat the words. I could ‘hear’ them, ‘read’ them. His sins spoke to me. Whispers in a windless place. Dispersed words.

The color was purple.

I turned, my gaze passing over the four others present in the room. One shone blue, analytical and concerned. Another, light green, frightened. A third, brown, cautious. The wooden mask on the doll’s face reflected recognition.

“Forty-nine victims. Twenty-three deaths. All women. Potions. Slow poisons. Murder. Torture. Poisoning. Slavery...” The woman in the cell recoiled, the chains clattering against the bars. “She envied every woman she killed. Loved watching them writhe, seeing their skin melt away.”

“‘Commoners and slaves should be as ugly as their roles in society.’” The words spilled out on their own. “She envies you two, Helena, Charlotte. Your beauty.”

The corridor’s chill turned dark. The light shifted to a purple hue.

“This flame...” I ignored Alalia’s whisper and kept walking.

With every cell I glanced at, the Shadowflame grew frenzied. It followed the same path as something more innate within me. It flared outward. This hadn’t happened in Remnant, even though I could see human sins much more clearly than Terrarian ones. An old job. An old memory.

An old habit.

Numbers began appearing in my mind. They rose and fell rapidly before stabilizing on specific digits.

“198 years, 4 months, 12 days, and 23 hours.” A glass-walled cell. A man.

“126 years, 5 months, 8 days, and 1 hour.” A metal, steel cell with no view. A woman.

“83 years, 2 months, 29 days, and 17 hours.” A barred, steel cell. A woman.

“837 years, 9 months, 15 days, and 21 hours.” A cell with no door, only a small window. Bronze. A man.

All monsters. Every single one of them. All the flame wanted.

I heard Ozma calling to me from within my Spiritual Realm, concerned. My response was simple: “I’m fine.” The flame was part of me. It didn’t want what I didn’t want. I wasn’t influenced; I was the one who influenced it.

Its whispers were words I wanted to hear. Words I would say. My will.

I stopped before a "common" cell. Metal bars. Mystic Symbols. An old, filthy man.

I stared at him. He trembled. My gaze didn’t waver. His voice was muffled by the matrices on the walls. I read his lips. His pleas were ignored. Dylan’s voice, however, I heard.

“Devas, my friend, my brother, look at me.” I turned to him. Brown and a blue glint met brown and a purple glow. “You’re not yourself right now. I don’t know where that flame came from, but the rest... it’s identical—or almost—to that deer. Is it you or the mask? Insanity?”

The concern in his voice danced around the fire, reaching me. He was a good man. His number was nonexistent. His sins, insignificant.

“I’m fine, Dylan. Don’t worry. It’s me. It’s always me and will always be me.”

My response reassured him. Not completely, but mostly. His trust in me was immense. He sighed in relief. Helena chose this moment to answer while Charlotte seemed frozen.

“Everyone here is serving a life sentence. This is the kingdom’s worst prison.”

“Why?”

“Lack of sufficient evidence to sentence them to death. Many also have influential families.” She looked around, disgusted, before turning to me. “But you seem to know all their crimes.”

“The fire knows. The flame knows. I know.”

“The Shadowflame...” Alalia’s voice made the environment lighter. Happier. She tilted her head, curious. “I didn’t think it still existed. I couldn’t sense it before. How did you acquire it?”

“W-what is that flame?” Charlotte clutched the doll against her chest. “I can feel it judging me.”

I answered both questions simultaneously: “The fire of hell. I got it in Jille. Tamed it only in Remnant.” I didn’t elaborate further. I let them form their own ideas. I’d explain to Dylan later.

I glanced at the cells for a moment before a thought arose. I asked dryly: “And it didn’t occur to you that, if they escaped, they’d be in the perfect spot? Beneath the palace and one of the Guild’s main headquarters.” I stared at Charlotte and Helena. “Every single one of them hates you two with everything they have.”

“It’s impossible—”

“As impossible as you talking to an alien?” I interrupted the duchess. “As impossible as that same alien killing another? In WinterHord.”

She fell silent. I scoffed. Charlotte’s eyes widened.

"The traitors of your vision, Alalia... Could they have?" Her voice was a barely audible whisper. Dylan was the only one who seemed confused. The duchess mirrored the princess’s wide eyes as the doll in her arms responded.

“It’s likely...” Alalia’s words didn’t confirm it, but the possibility was enough to tense both Helena and Charlotte. “Damn, it’s very likely they freed them...”

“And even weakened, they’d cause some damage.” That’s if whoever freed them hadn’t healed them first. I turned to the man in the cell. “Just another drop in the ocean of reasons I have to kill you.”

He couldn’t hear my words. I knew that. The cell’s matrices blocked sound—on both sides, though they could be disabled—and vision, limited to the inside looking out. However, just as he could "feel" me, he could sense the intent behind my words.

He fainted.

I tore open the cell door with bare hands. The fire made him wake. Dense shadows shaped the eight black hands that lifted him into the air.

“You know, Marchel, how many you raped?” His name surfaced effortlessly—the flame whispered. My voice sounded delirious, even to me. “Do you know the exact number? Or should I say it?”

“No, please! It wasn’t my fault, the maid seduced me!” His words disgusted me. Everything about him was repulsive.

“He lies.” Charlotte’s firm voice made my face turn. My gaze made her recoil momentarily, but she took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “I remember him: Marchel Lyero, former lord of the Lyero family. We managed to charge him with slavery, tax evasion, murder, torture, and rape—nine victims, that last one.”

Marchel tried to scream again, but one of the shadowy hands gripped his throat.

“Wrong, princess.” I shook my head as the old man writhed in the air, terror etched into every muscle of his face. “You’re good at hiding bodies. Hiding victims. Experienced...”

The number of victims had three digits.

“One hundred and twenty-three. You raped every single one of them. Men, women. Children, the elderly. And you enjoyed them all. You tortured each one.”

The number the flame whispered had four digits.

Before anyone could intervene, my lips parted. A chant emerged from me. One of three. Two were born from the Shadowflame. The third was mine.

... Only mine.

“For it is in sin that we find our essence and ruin...”

Everyone in the prison froze. Most in fear. Three in shock. One in awe.

The old man became even more terrified. The purple fire rose.

“Through it, we become the personification of temptation and choice, shaping the shadows that devour the world's light...”

I dislike this role. But here, now, it was necessary. The flame is mine and always will be.

Sins are Sins.

“Infinite in corruption and unbound by redemption, I claim your soul and, by my hand...”

I could see it in his eyes: The fear. The man. The soul.

The first remained until the end.

The second burned in the fire.

The third the flame wanted in my Spiritual Realm. I denied it.

Hell awaited him.

“Condemn thee.”

[...]---[...]

There are three chants that belong to the Devas. Two of them exist thanks to Shadowflame, a kind of "sharing," so to speak. The third is something entirely his. They will appear in the future.

Have a good Night and happy reading!