It took longer than she planned. An entire night and half of the day was gone. Luckily she didn't have to clean or dust it before hand, all she had to do was move things around to fit her needs. For now, old papers and scraps filled the floors and desks. It wasn't really known what this was far, but it always appeared to be some den or library, possibly something Ceasar had for himself in private. Only a good half of the basement was cleared, while the rest was still cluttered with crates, books and other odd treasures. She would be sure to clean everything up before the arrival of her master.

She smiled, a large clearing of the polished hardwood floor open for her own needs. Her bag of her new items from the other day remained unset. Now it was to find the man who had requested her aide.

She would ascend the steps only to reach the large door that divided this place from the rest of the guild. She twisted each lock, and chain from the hinge. Sh traced her finger along the carvings on the other side of the door. It was as dark as night, as if it was stained or burned, yet it smelled as if the tree it was cut from was standing that same morning. It was fresh, and it was perfect.

She would open the door, peeking around, wondering who else knew the secrets of the deep dwelling. But it didn't matter, those that helped, were followers now, if they weren't before. Something that may prove to either be helpful, or a hindrance in the future.

She would open it only just enough to poke her head out. And she would catch the end of the man's words.

"Key?" she said, almost laughing at him, "It locks from the inside. That knob has been broken as long as anyone could remember." And she would stare at the man with the most omniscient  smile, she knew that this day would be different

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She needed not to tell him about their rules. It had been that way since Chisu had came to Fiore, and was even the same way in Sin. Someone always occupied the buildings. Nothing was left vacant, always. In the case of Fiore, a Shrine maiden always stayed in the temple. If all went to plan, then Caitlyn was now the heir, and she would follow the rule until their master arose.

Bodak would be the Phantom that never left Oak, at least until her own master would tell her otherwise. This basement would be the same. Another mage would always be cleaning up, in this mysterious dungeon until Bodak returned. Perhaps soon, she would move all of her belongings to this dwelling. Perhaps one day.

"Thank you." she would speak with genuine feeling. It was probably one of the first times, if not the first time anyone had complimented her since her rebirth. But it was unimportant how one looked. It mattered only of one's devotion.

"Being... Vice Guildmaster, I guess would be the most accurate name.. has its perks. That or being a book keeper and allowing others to climb ranks with meaningless tasks. She smiled, turning to the clearing that was made. She would move to one of the desks to retrieve her bag, only to then make her way to sit upon the polished floor. It was none cold, but rather a strange grossly warm. One would think it to be cold, but. . . no matter...

She would motion to him to take a seat opposing her, a good meter or so away from her, her bag only a few feet before her. It was between them, but within a lean and a reach for her needs. There was no time to waste, unless this man had his own suspicions to lay to rest first.

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". . . and to him, let him know it was not his fault. It couldn't be his fault. This was my fate. It is all of our fate. We will die only at the hands of ourselves, or those of the Nobu Assassins. No one can stop their death, but you can choose what you die for.

I die for the glory of this fateful guild. When I return, I won't be the same. I won;t be me. But know, I will never betray you."

The words echoed in her mind. She had read over that book a dozen times since she discovered it, and she was probably the only one who knew her fate. Of course, then there would be the new crown, it was going to be Caitlyn most likely, seeing as she was the closest to the bloodline. It didn't matter none, seeing as it was all temporary. It was all soul transfer, but before that, soul collection. And here, she would use her god's power to reshape a soul.

She would reach forward to her bag and take out a few candles and the vial she had bought some time before their meeting when they were out shopping. She would set them in front of her, only to get a lighter out of the bag. She would flick it on, to ignite the wick of the first candle. With it, she would begin to use the flame to melt the bottom of the second, then the top. With the second, she would melt the first's bottom, and she would place them both between the two mages. Together, they would make a shape of a square, with the bag misplaced in the center.

"No need to rush things. It takes time." she would say to him. "Before I start to empty out this bag, what can you tell me about both Phantom Lord, and the Manji Culture?"

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She reached to the bag, expecting a whole hearted answer, though it seemed as if she had gotten ahead of herself. There was much to learn, and she would build off of this foundation.

"Phantom Lord was once allied with Blue Pegasus do to family relations. While most of Fiore holds us in a tainted light, we're still the good guys. Grimoire Heart have been, and will always be the enemies... and to us, so are the Rune Knights." If he wanted a history lesson, she would give him all she had absorbed in the last few months. There was much to learn.

"We're banned from playing the good guys, thanks to the council. That's why we take odd jobs and often more sinister contracts. this alone doesn't make us evil however." That was all she had to say on it. Even she didn't know the entirety of the tale.

"Cult is a strong word. To some it's a religion believing in one, two, or three gods. To some it's a culture. To me, it's my family." She would smile, but it wouldn't stay for long. Her lips would fade into a frown as she continued to think of their fate.

"Today, the Manji offer you a great and confusing power. I cannot teach you the ways, for that is your own path to walk. You must discover the great potential within you. I can, however, explain the changes and what will become of you, as a person, as well as few of my experiences. "

There was much she had to say, but she had learned to hold her tongue. Everything would come in time.

"I've never done this before. But upon request of our Nameless god, I must record all of my thoughts and feelings as well as interactions and adventures. In the case that my mental state is lost, it will be this recording of my humanity that will tether me to this world. Should it fail, then accept this book as my memoir.

To the reader, I beg of you to live life to the fullest. You never know when your story will end. Make sure every page is an adventure."

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She reached into the bag holding onto the vial, pulling it to her lap, onto to crush it into her palm, the glass shattering, the fluid pouring onto her lap, mixing with the blood that spilled from her hand.

"I can only offer you tales of the past, rather than ones of our present day." she continued, "However using this magic, submits both my soul, and your devotion to my god." She would bow her head, looking upon her hands.

She would rub the glass between her palms, slicing her skin, only to take her fingers with her crimson paint to begin to draw on the floor. She would rise slowly, only to take time to finish a portrait that would take some time to complete. But they were in no rush. They had all the time to prepare. The ritual itself, was short.

"I will be more than content to offer my soul to my god for a second time, but you must understand that this is no simple leap of faith. My god is real, and soon she will walk this earth again. She will never ask of you for something you cannot deliver. But for each gift you accept from her, she will request small tasks of you. Think nothing of it. She's been making Wayne do nothing more than keep tabs on Crocus for us." She would smile, drawing a large half circle starting from her side, closing into Tecka, and soon past him. After it was complete, she would move into the center to continue her piece.

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Bodak listened to his words as she continued to draw half circles, triangles and other symbols all over the ground. Some new, some old, all with a meaning. "She only asks what you can deliver. If you are a merchant, you are to offer your wealth. If you are an assassin, you are to remove who she chooses. If you are a guard you will protect what she needs. It's nothing to think about. After all, for my life, all I do is keep notes on everything in and outside of these walls. Everything is a fair trade." She would smile, going to sit back in her place, though knelt, and leaned forward.

"Come closer, I need your forehead." she would say, before answering his final words.

"I was dead a few months ago. I was a soul lost for years, I have no idea how long I was gone. I wandered the darkness until she welcomed me. I kept her company, and she was pleased with my conversation. She found this body for me, and allowed me to live again.

In an age before, she fought a great enemy, and held Phantom Lord on her own. It was by her hands that the walls stood up, and it is by her hands today that they still do. I cannot vouch for her entirety, but you can decide for yourself when she walks through our doors, very soon,"

If he would lean forward, she would place her right thumb on his forehead, drawing a horizontal line of blood. After, she would motion with a nod and a wave of her hand for him to sit again, to which she would as well.

The matter was complete, but still she wanted to settle any doubts. The time was nearing, and soon the both of them would find the Eternal. And soon her god would awake from the earth, as she did not long ago.

The eternal felt like forever, to be trapped within it... but to be freed... that was the work of a god, to one she would owe her life.

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How could she ever fear death? Why would any amount of pain shake her? She had suffered for an eternity. Bits of glass and fear of death did nothing to her. To offer her soul, the last thing that belonged to her, at a chance to live again was a small price to pay. She would serve her god to the day she died, and beyond. She was bound to the eternal darkness that existed within her consciousness alone. Eons of silence filled with meaningless prayers was pleasing to hear a new and refreshing voice from time to time. Everyone wanted something, but only few offered something in return. Only the latter received their gifts, the first would receive death, only to be absorbed into the collective. People who only took and refused to give were less than the precious and worthless humans. They were below worms and bottom feeders.

"The more you give, the more you will receive." she would speak, closing her eyes, her bloodied hands resting on her cheeks, covering her face in the same color of the ground. The flow was beginning to stop, and it was no matter. After all, all she needed to do, was done. For now, the rites of blood were offered, and now the boy would offer his allegiance, and her, her own soul once more.

"If you please her, you will be gifted with a second life, as I have. If you fail her, you will be cursed with a second life, only to serve us as a slave until you pay your dues." She would close her eyes. It was about to begin.


"My dear, why do you call upon me so brash? Can this wait?" her voice rang within her mind. In the present world, Bodak was nothing more than squinting with her eyes closed,
fighting the battle in her soul.

"I'm afraid not milady. A man offers his allegiance to you. He requests our power, and with it I will pay with my soul as well." Soon, it was all going to be over. Soon he would see this world.

"Very well. I will give you my knowledge. I trust your judgement, young Iki." With it, she laughed before fading away into the dark.

Bodak would open her eyes to look at the man's face, only to give one instruction. "Please, close your eyes. We will finish within her domain." Her arms would fold over her lap, her eyes would close. When he would close his eyes and open them again, he would find himself in a world of darkness. Black as far as the eye could see, only to have a white marble flood under the two of them. Both would be seated as they were before, the bag remaining, along with the large circle. In this world, they were spirits, and here, Bodak would speak the harsh truths of the magic, as well as the tale of her master.

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"She has granted me the rites, and thus we shall finish what we started." Bodak smiled, not one of happiness, nor of joy. It was something she was born ready to do, without the hopes of ever doing it. These two people were going to become a team, and the best way to unify them was a skill that was one and the same. Tonight, they would become one.

"Ah, my daughter? Why do you ask of her?" his voice echoed, however faint, within this dark and odd realm. "I gave everything up for my children. Her mother gave up her life. That's why she lives, but that's not important. You wanted to know how she worked? How she lives on? I don't know. But if I had to say, it had to do with our bloodline. Our curse. Our blessing. We are sworn to kill our masters to become the next generations of teachers. But I became immortal, and she became eternally mortal. I can never be struck down, and she will never stay down." his voice played over and over, end to end. Never stopping. It was the only sound in this dark world.

She begun to hum, a tune that would start with two low notes, a high, a middle, and low again. A pause, and she would start again. This world was an echo of what could be, and what was.

"No one knows what happens when you die. But when I was lost, this place found me, and now it will find you Tecka." his name. it was probably one of the first times she would say his name, and most likely the last. Everyone was born with a name, but others are known by something given, something earned. That was the title of the Manji Clan. The crown. The helm. Yoshimitsu. The Dragon Warrior. That was the god without a name. That was the ruler of this cursed and dark world. For the first time in forever, she had left her own domain, for she was being risen elsewhere. It was her time.

"I am no god, but i am her disciple." Bodak spoke. Her mind drifted to the years of watching from behind a lit lantern, only to listen to words and prayers. She could see the earth, the dirt, the offerings, but never the faces of who visited the shrines. She begun to make them up, imagining how these people would look. Some revealed their names, others only wanted to seek peace. In their eyes, they were nothing more than moving auras in the shape of an average human. They all looked the same, but Bodak knew her god could see the faces of them. She knew she was greater, stronger, wiser.

Bodak was nothing more than another spirit kept for entertainment, and now, she was serving her master in return for her life and the chance to be free, even if bound by her law. This was her life now.

"The hunger in all of us, tonight it feasts." She lifted her arms, extending them over Tecka, her steps drawing closer, slower. Her arms moved at her side, making her self into a cross. For her, it was self-preservation. To allow another to share her burden of this power, but with it, she too could gain more power. She would use him, as he would use her. Today they would rise, no longer just as Phantoms, but those of the Manji.

"May you feast upon the knowledge of the world and be left never satisfied!" She yelled, her tone deeper, as if to invoke a new power, yet the world around them did not change. Even if it felt the ground was shaking, neither would be moved from the still terrain. Both would hunger for things human and inhuman. They would crave power, knowledge. They needed skills, power. For them, they would collect data, not for themselves, but their god.

"Rise and be born again, rise from the blood!" the circle of the dried blood would begin to lift off the ground, glowing, growing fresh and fluid once more. The volume of the blood growing, the shape spinning, rotating, hovering around the two of them.

But what would become of them after it was over? What price did they really pay for this skill?

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Darkness. Can you see it? Let it fill everything. Close your eyes. No... that's nothing close to it. Darker. ... Darker.... Darker. Yes. Pure darkness.

Wisps dancing along the dark night of a unlit sky. Shadows cast over large figures that gave the other shade from the black entirety of this realm. You could spend an eternity here, without even seeing your own hand an inch from your face, if you were lucky to still have hands in this world. Everything was different, for everything did not, and at the same time, did exist. But when you are shown a light, at the cost of your loyalty to a being you know nothing about, you have to make a choice. Do you dance in the darkness like the many years you have done before, or do you enjoy the warmth of the sunlight for once and begin to open your eyes to see the sights of her domain? If you chose the darkness, you're a liar. Everyone gets trapped into serving her. It's her trade, her trick. Everyone works for her, and she's smart about it. She never takes advantage of her pupils. You almost want to work for her, forever.

But you can't know one thing off a single promise. That is why she'll trap you, hold you, testing you for years to come. She is the only one who can see outside of this world, but she allows you to catch glimpses, little moments of the mortal world. You can hear sounds that don't create fear of the mysterious unknown. You can hear voices of children, old men, teens, kings and commoners all ask for her aid. There was no discrimination. But all seemed to ask without giving in return. That was, until the Manji stepped into the picture.

Bodak had watched her god vanish from her sight, only to walk the earth. She could hear the world around her. She could speak to her god, providing aid as needed, as the other spirits could. Oh, other spirits. The feeling the boniness would escape this world. You weren't alone anymore. You belonged to something larger. But you knew that some were suffering. They had wronged her. In her domain, you lost your powers. Some no longer could speak out, others were blinded and bound. But still, you would choose to be a prisoner in this Eden than to walk the darkness once more. A demon you could see, was much less frightening than one that you couldn't. No one wanted to remain tormented in the unknown land, unsure if their time was coming, if it was to come. No one knew when it would be their last second alive. But in a world where nothing existed. . . you weren't alive anymore.

"Rise Tecka of the Manji-Ma, rise and serve our people!" Her head tilted back to stare into the sky of a unlit sky. The marble floor begun to glisten like a moonlit path, the blood reflected, protected them and the light. It would turn dark, cold and black, spinning, their wounds healing. They were no longer home. They were in her domain. If they were to suffer, she would pain them. If they were to die, she would claim them.

But her arms would fold in, before her chest. She would fall to her knees. A great pain would strike her heart. Her eyes would be filled with tears. The pain, the fear of this world would settle. She was not going to be a mortal much longer. She was going to suffer. She was going to die.

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Would you live again, if you would lose everything you had? Your memories, your friends, all of the love you had and didn't have. Could you toss it away to continue to live behind the guise of a face you never knew? What past would you hold onto, when it keeps merging with the new vessel you inhabit?

Years. Decades. Centuries. Millenniums. Eons. Eras. Ages. Eternities.  How many times would you start over, until you forget why you began? How long until you forget who you are, who were where, and who you wanted to be?

A sad life. To be born again without choice. Without direction. To live in moments because the next day you may no longer remember who you were. Can you trust the pages in your handwriting? Can you trust them?

Can you trust your students, your pupils? Can you leave a legacy to people who know your name is not the truth? This is your life. This is your fate. It doesn't matter if it was a blessing or a curse. This is how it is now. There's no escape. You chose this life, or perhaps it chose you. No one could ever know the truth besides you. That's the truth of it. No one else but you could know the truth. But with years and years, and thousands and thousands of minds and memories mixed in with your own, did you forget who you were, or who you are? Can you remember them all?

This void. This world. It does not, it did not... It's not Bodak's world. It's not the world of their, her, god. This is a realm of terror, pain, and loss. But here, everything is eternal, including memories. At least here, you will no longer be mixed in with untruths and half lies. Here you will know what you know and learn what you will know. Here you can see what has become of your legacy and be presented with the outlooks of who you used to be.

But you will never know why you used to be, only what others saw of who used to been.

Can you live with a life where you don't matter? Can you live a life of someone who used to have been?

Nameless didn't have to suffer anymore. She had lived alone in this void for far too long. Time escaped her. She had given up. But just as the thought crossed her mind, a man approached her disciple, and her legacy was retold. She saw the face of a friend that used to be, and time was restored to a world where the sun did not rise.

It was coming to an end. But was she ready? Was Bodak ready to accept a life like her master? All of this suffering to understand a magic that was conjured from the darkness of her soul. A darkness. A shadow as black as could be, a darkness full of nothing. A darkness so dark, it had begun to emit light and attract spirits to serve her. Whatever she wished for, she was granted. With an empty life, she would entertain herself granting her wishes to others, to have them continue to feed her wishes.

If she was going to live again, she needed not only a body, but a soul for her to create, to fill the lost corpse. This was the cost. Bodak would offer what was left of her soul, her spirit, her freedom. Tecka would offer his servitude to this nameless god. That was her price. Assurance.

Assurance that when she arose, when she finally came back. . . assurance that she would have something to come back to.

This was no longer a ritual of power. It was a ritual of sorrow. It was a place full of personal hells and desires. In this world, you were alone, and there was no way to avoid your own truth. In this world, you were a pawn in the grand scheme.

She would continue to hold herself in pain, the feelings and thoughts flooding through her. It was her own suffering, but she would feel all that Nameless had her entire life. In order to share her gift, she had to share the pain. This was the price of a pupil. This was the price of being remembered.

This was the pain of being forgotten by everyone, including herself.

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. . . Ginger, and... cinnamon? She watched, amused, aware of her own devotion. For her, this was all in an instant, but it seemed as if this boy was trapped in limbo, fighting for his own loyalty of his own body. Was he being betrayed by his own will?

No. It was rose... cherry perhaps, something sweet. Definitely cinnamon. Bodak didn't think too much of it. She inhaled again, sucking on the cigar that lay betwixt her lips. She didn't know where it came from, only that it was an offering to her god. It was left behind, and she was no fool. No one would outright steal from a plate of offerings that belonged to another. But here, in this guild, she was the placebo. And besides, the smell alone she could tell it was nothing she would find interest in. It was fresh, pure, and untainted. That cursed god, she would only find pleasure in poison. Tobacco was nothing near her desires. She shrugged, the end of the cigar burning with each puff and exhaled smoke from her mouth. The paper turned to embers, embers fell to the ground. Ash became of the embers and her feet put out the light that remained. That was her job, to extinguish the flames that remained. Only those worthy and of use were to be kept alive. Perhaps the same to be said of her.

She puffed, inhaling, watching the boy's body as his mind delved into his own consciousness. This was a ritual not to bond people to each other, but to the god that granted them power. She was no creator god, she was a god of destruction. But from the ashes, you could rise again. When everything is torn down, you could build again. From her destruction, you were allowed a chance to redeem yourself. Offer all you ave left, to be more than you ever were.

Her rear rest pressed against the desk, watching the boy, waiting for him to snap back to it. Bodak's hands were well wrapped, her own medical supplies kept in the bag for preparation. She knew well enough what to expect. She could have told him, but there was no joy in that. It was his journey to venture, not hers. She only offered half of her soul, or rather all of it. She only held onto just enough to live, to be physical. She was a puppet to her god, and from her wishes, she would live and grant them.

She pressed off the table to lean forward, walking towards the boy. Whatever he saw in his mind, must be dark and troublesome. His expressions would speak so. She would have laughed, if only it was just herbs and plants. This was different. If she didn't collect him soon, he would be lost and untethered. She would only be able to pray for a safe return.

She took a seat before him. Ah yes. A final inhale. All of the smoke, tasting the sweet smoke and ash. Soot. Was this the taste?

She removed the cigar from her mouth, her lips pressed, holding the dying flames. She held it off to the side, dropping the ashes on the ground. She would exhale into the man's face.

Though to her, he was always a boy. It was his choice how he would return, if he returned. Her left hand would reach out and hold his. She would fold his palm over, observing the back of his hand. Surely when he awoke, a new power would be born from him.

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The cigar dropped. Ash fell to the ground. The markings remained, her grasp tightened. She pressed against his lips...

.. Her hands divided the space between them. "And I'm in the body of a chronic alcoholic. We all got our problems." She smiled with his words. It amused her, and she would be lying if a feeling did not surface. But what was it? Perhaps this was the start of Nameless's journey of the Thousand Bodies. It was a story that she could never forget, and perhaps this was the start of the same for her.

"I'll take your offer, for the drink. The rest of you, can remain yours." She would lean back, taking her hand off his face, finding some enjoyment in the ritual. This must be the feeling Nameless sought. This must have been why she didn't give up after her demise. It was an ecstasy, and she would not stray from this. This was bliss. This was addiction. This was her drug.

"My destiny has been sealed. I cannot allow for emotions to blind me." she'd smile, with a slight lean of her head to the side. "You'll make someone happy, but it won't be me. My life is one of a servant. Perhaps when Nameless arrives, you can speak to her about all of this." She would begin to rise, as he would .

"Let's get a drink."

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