PoiL̸̶̨͈̱̯̪̱̲̤͉͇E̵͖̮̩̼̝̤̩̦̖͙͠͠Ą̴̘̙̲̠̗̮̘͔̖͔̟̠̖͞ͅN̴̲̭̰̕ͅm ̸̵̸̡̲̦̙̱͇͇̫͈̗͟O̴̢͖̲̝͕̭̘̭̣̖̹R̸̡̰̳̠͎͓͍̰͎͎͎͇͓̣ ̶̟̫͙̠̖͎̥̬͉a HarpoV̵̨̭̲͇̯͈͚̯̫̱̠̮̤̻͕̩̖̝͞͞͞ͅͅE͟͜҉̨̭̬̜̠͔̰̥̝͝E̶̶̯͔̱̗̳̰̹͘͢͝ͅN͏̖̜͓̙̞̙A̷҉̧̜̜̰̼͓̞̣ͅcrates

chibi makeshift clothing of Eleanor above

Art: runaticjarrett

The first thing she noticed as she looked down was that she had smaller boobs. A second later, the girl realized she had red skin. She was wearing a white coat, which was a custom of scientists. Is this…? Eleanor thought to herself, Am I in Poima’s body? She tried to move when she realized her new body moved on its own, towards a large laboratory that had a glass window. She stood behind the glass panel, watching the scientists in the room scurry about as they channeled mana into red symbols across a male Sanctuary Elf’s chest.

She wanted to hurl, noticing the runes were etched onto the skin of the elf’s body. A demon scientist brought out a strange-looking metal syringe. A black liquid in the tiny tube seemed alive, as it stuck to the glass walls of its small prison.

Eleanor wanted to grimace, but her new body simply walked over to the laboratory, entered a four-digit code into the keypad, and looked over the elf like a giant looking over an ant. The cold calculative gaze she felt boring into the man unnerved her.

Although she was in Poima’s body, she couldn’t feel her emotions at all. They were out of sync somehow; she was thankful for that.

But Eleanor couldn’t shake off the weird feeling of not being able to move on her own accord.

“Chief Harpocrates,” the male scientist said.

“Please, call me Poima,” Eleanor felt her lips say, “Calling me ‘Chief Harpocrates’ makes me think you’re referring to my father instead.” The voice that left her was as soft as silk and as sweet as honey. It was the most beautiful voice she has ever heard. It was like music derived from the weaving of Arachne herself.

“How goes the project, Ahriman?” Poima asked, looking over the creature inside the tiny syringe. The way it squirmed like a poisonous slime sent shivers up Eleanor’s spine. It entranced Poima though.

Ahriman shook his head, dejected, “Unfortunately all of our previous tests have resulted inconclusive. No such luck forcefully opening the telepathic pathways to the Sanctuary Mind. So we’re going to try to use Majin #75 to try to pry open this person’s psyche.”

“Ahh, Plan S75C,” Poima thought back to the Majin in the syringe. It was an ominous black substance; like poison with a mind of its own. It was the child of the Majin Queen, the one Poima went to great lengths to steal. “I’ll use the Crown myself to tear open the subject’s mind.”

That’s a Majin? Eleanor grimaced, Weren’t they supposed to be foggy spirit-like creatures? This things looks more...like a corrupted slime.

“We were hoping your father, Senior Chief Harpocrates, would be willing to lend a hand instead,” Her coworker said awkwardly. The way he shuffled his toes annoyed Poima. Eleanor felt her blood raise without feeling the anger itself.

Weird, she thought.

“Fine,” Poima said, anger and slight trepidation evident in her voice. She looked down on the elf, blood dripping from his mouth. A lung must’ve been punctured. “Amazing how the Elves bound by the Sanctuary have a completely different spiritual signature than those that have either been outcast or left their home.” The elf’s glazed eyes showed no fear, and their attempts at torture had been fruitless.

“Since wild Elves do not have the Sanctuary influencing their every move, they might as well be a completely different species, even with their biological identity being the same,” Ahriman said.

Eleanor felt Poima wanted to speak more about the subject, but drowned her curiosity and turned her back on Ahriman, “I’ll call for my father, however,” Poima turned back slightly to glare at him, “I wish to see the process.”

“Your father might no-”

“I will document the process.”

“Yes, Chief.”

She left the laboratory and the scene shifted, like a jump in memories. The sudden timeskip left Eleanor feeling dizzy and nauseous, like a sudden change from winter to summer in an instant.

A red-skinned, rather lean demon draped in a white coat sat quite bored in a metal chair while staring at the elf in front of him. Ahriman strapped metal chains on his arms. “Apologies, Senior Chie-”

“Apologies not necessary. I know what this is for. Bring me the Cleanser’s Crown.”

His order wasn’t directed at Ahriman, but to his daughter, Poima. He scarcely even looked at her before barking orders. Eleanor felt her-Poima’s blood boil. There was also a hint of resignation there, though.

Am I starting to sync with her emotions more? Eleanor thought to herself. This was the first time she’s ever experienced a memory crystal made by demon-kind. It was much different from the ones she’s used before, which were more akin to seeing the memories from afar rather than upfront.

This felt much more personal.

Regardless of Poima’s feelings, her body moved to a case clad in several red and white runes. Eleanor could tell they were high level seals. Whatever was in there was extremely dangerous.

Poima hovered her hand over the case and released a white glow from her palm. Ambient mana flowed into each individual rune. Eleanor herself could hear the runes being unsealed like locks opened through keys.

Like an airlock releasing air, gas hissed through the cracks of the opened case. Using Poima’s eyes, Eleanor peeked into the case and noticed a hollow skull the shape of a mutated human being. Its appearance was that of a bloated human skull. The Cleanser’s skull.

“Inject the majin into the subject’s body,” Senior Chief Harpocrates’ cold voice ordered, then motioned for Poima to place the skull over his head.

Ahriman injected the majin into the male elf’s neck. Almost immediately, the test subject started to convulse and seizure, but his eyes ultimately kept the same composure, almost like he was bored.

“It’s time to tear your mind apart, little elf.” That smile was all teeth.

Senior Chief Harpocrates’ empathic mind, empowered by the Crown, moved into the elf, taking ample opportunity of his weakened mental fortitude.

“I will see behind your little Sanctuary’s Veil.”

Eleanor saw the air itself twist, bend, and break into itself, like it was falling into some kind of invisible well behind the elf. The energies of the crown pulsated through the room with divine will.

“G̶̛̣̘̖̀̆͐̂̋͂̃͋͊̆̍̒͘̕Ṛ̶̹̖̼̦͐̽̒̑̌̓̌̈́̾̃̏̀̚Y̵̨̨̛͉̩̟͚̙̥͇̪̟̞̰̻̓̐̂̒̀̐͂͂̐͂͘ͅḀ̸̣̣̳̞͓̻̩͔̫͉̟̾̉̂͋̎̀̃Á̵̡͓͔̗̫̑͂̂̄̎͋́̐̈́͘Ä̷̛̬́͐̈̍̓̎̀̀͂̑̀̐͆̕A̵̠̬͖̍̊̔̏Ą̵̯̭͚͚̫͓͖̥͙͈̠͔̼͒̿͊̀̆Ḥ̶̞̮̟̭́̌̈̔͊̊̈͂̈̕!” The elf’s first screams of agony pierced Eleanor’s ears.

Veronica Leylon

Art: runaticjarrett

She really shouldn’t have let Eleanor take up this trial. Whatever was in that memory crystal had kept her mate’s mind locked. The short auburn-haired girl didn’t even stir.

Demon technology was very different from other species. Memory crystals didn’t last this long, nor did they keep their users asleep.

Then, without warning, she felt her nose crink in disgust. Like a parasitic worm, a putrid smell invaded her nose. It was the smell of black magic, more specifically, the one from the Vadstena.

The door they entered from opened, revealing a young man fidgeting with a book against his chest.

“Michael…” She hated that name, “What are you doing here?” Her arms shielded Eleanor from the disgusting freak.

“I wanted to see you,” he said shyly, “T-thing is, I’ve been wanting to tell you something for the longest time. I...I need you to come with me. Just leave Eleanor on the ground or something.”

His lovestruck eyes glued themselves on Veronica. That gaze felt like she had diseased worms crawling up her shirt and neck. Or something? Really...? “And why would I leave a defenseless girl alone while I go with a creep like you?”

“C’mon, Veronica, you’ll understand once you do,” he clutched the book harder against his chest, “I promise. You will understand, I’ll make sure of it.”

“With that cursed book? Really? I had enough of your nonsense. It’s time someone beat some sense into you, perv.” Veronica’s blood boiled. She clenched her teeth and smiled wide with teeth.

Although Veronica loathed to admit it, she learned a few things from watching her rival in love, Elsie. She clad her arms in an electrical silver swirling pool of mana. Her technique wasn’t as refined as Elsie’s, but it was enough for self-defense against a mage.

Michael revealed his wand from his pocket as he stashed the book into his waist bag. He was the only one with a wand and that scared Veronica. As freaky as Michael was, he was no pushover in magic. He was just as capable as her or Eleanor, in the right circumstances.

And right now, the stakes were in his favor.

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be, Veronica. I’ll bring you with me, through carrot or stick.” Michael pointed the wand to his prey. “You will be my wife, Veronica Leylon.”

She chuckled darkly. “All this because I smiled at you that one time. I was in a good mood that day. I suppose that’s my fault,” Veronica bumped her fists together, creating a mana discharge, “I’m going to smash your skull concave, Michael Hernold.”