Old Mahem
The battle between King of Plagues, Candy Carnage and Death Shadow Marie Adler ended with both of their deaths.
Functionally, it was a solid defeat for Candy, but regardless it was a battle that didn’t leave much of a mark on the world. Once it was over, the combatants had both dissolved into light, Arcal had flown off, and Candy’s bacteria were rapidly decreasing in numbers as they destroyed themselves without his direction.
Soon, Mahem would look exactly as it had before all of this had happened—just uninhabited.
However, there was something in this scene that stood out.
It was a split piece of headgear—none other than the Prototype Horobimaru-Star Helmet.
Once given to The Hero To’ori Kusanagi by an SUBM, it was then claimed by his murderer, Candy. Now it was lying on the ground, thoroughly destroyed.
Instead of vanishing alongside Candy, its remains were simply lying there, exposed to the wind that flowed across the field.
There was other loot that Candy and Marie had dropped in death, but the helmet had an aura that made it stand out from the rest.
Suddenly—perhaps because of the wind—the remains of the helmet shook a little.
“Dead host. Dead victor. None qualified. Grave damage.”
A faint voice, its source unclear, could be heard in the barren wasteland.
“Continued recording impossible. Prioritize current information. Incomplete. Abandoning. Unsatisfactory.”
The voice was coming from the helmet itself.
“Returning.”
With that one word, the helmet transformed into bits of light and vanished.
The sight resembled the death of a monster or a Master’s death penalty, but it was neither.
If To’ori or other seasoned warriors of Tenchi had been there, they might’ve noticed that the Resources comprising the helmet were flowing somewhere else.
✦ ✦ ✦
Somewhere completely unknown, everything was obscured by darkness.
In the profound blackness of the deepest depths of an unimaginably deep cavern, outside of the reach of wind and rain and thus thoroughly unchanged since ancient times, there was a space that at first glance resembled a burial chamber.
Perhaps, though, this place was better likened to something with a far different purpose—a smithy, to be precise. There was a furnace, an anvil, and a hammer.
That was more than enough to make it a smithy even despite the fact that this was a crucible of pure darkness untouched by the rays of the sun or the glow of a fire, wasn’t it?
Now, however, the deep silence had a source. Absently floating in the heart of the black smithy was what looked like little more than a haze.
Did this thing exist? Did it not? Even that much wasn’t clear—but it was there regardless.
It must’ve been there—been waiting—for an obscenely long time.
“Retrieving.” But then, the seemingly inert haze whispered that word, and something flowed into the darkness. The shapeless and invisible energy took form in the haze’s hand.
The object was the now shattered Star Helmet.
“Incomplete.” The haze echoed the words spoken by the helm itself.
“The Hero, The Arts, The Earth, King of Plagues, The Cannon, Over Wrestler, Death Shadow.” The haze named some Superior Jobs—specifically, the ones that the owners of the helm had met or battled.
It almost felt as though it was lamenting something.
“Few. Insufficient. Unsatisfactory.”
It voiced its displeasure with the fact that the number it counted was less than desirable.
The haze was the creator of the helmet, and what it wanted was for the item’s owners to fight Superior Jobs.
It had even made the helm so it would seek out stronger and stronger wielders. In fact, while Candy had picked up the helmet off of To’ori’s body himself, it would’ve moved to him even if he hadn’t.
But now that Marie had destroyed the helmet before disappearing along with Candy himself, this feature had become meaningless. The helmet had no choice but to return to the haze, its goal incomplete.
“Conflict knowledge inadequate.” Disappointed though it was, the haze quickly took to action.
The furnace of the black smithy was lit for the first time in who knew how long, and its flame grew, melting the broken helmet. The haze took the hammer in hand and began working the metal that was left.
This task would clearly take him quite a long time.
“Begin. Perfect. First step.”
The haze’s—his—job was to repeat the same thing five times. Though the first step was incomplete, he had to fulfill his duty.
“Dedicate. Dependent. Task.”
This was something he’d decided he would do a long time ago.
Behind the scenes of the turbulent King of Plagues event, unknown to all, this being had taken to action.
This would eventually result in something fearsome taking center stage.