Chapter 11 - The Azure Oracle's Big, Brutal Beating

In Nirvana, very few were capable of achieving a Cultivation level of 100.

Even to arrive just shy of this incredible summit, at level 99, was to stand on the cusp of divinity—as did someone whom Vash wanted Akira to meet after they'd finished their seafood lunch.

"The Azure Oracle is kind of a big deal," Vash said as they were walking. "She's Level 99, and crazy wise and powerful."

Akira was scratching her chin, intrigued.

"They're called an Oracle," she mused. "So it must be that they can read the future, right?"

"Not only that, Akira-san!" Vash said in a rushed, excited voice. "The Azure Oracle knows everything! She can dip into the System code like it's nothing, to answer any question you can think of! It's also how she can retrieve a player's Memento."

Their destination was a temple called [The Azure Palace], built atop a ledge jutting from a cliffside draped in waterfalls.

Similar to the rest of Acquama, it was constructed in an ancient Roman style with marble pillars and decorative reliefs coloring its pearly walls. If caught in a direct beam of sunlight, it would give off a radiant glow that could be viewed from miles away at its elevated position—like a beacon—often having the desired effect of luring in new players.

Inside the temple was a large, wide-open space, whereupon entering one needed to wade through an atmosphere thick with static, causing their hairs to stand on end, produced by Her mere presence…

Sat upon her giant throne, the Azure Oracle loomed large at a height of no less than six meters, from the top of her silver laurel crown to the hem of her austere white toga, beholden to a certain Queenly majesty. The pupils of Her eyes, with their unfathomable gaze devoid of pupils, flickered with dormant lightning—but a small glimpse of the fierce storm, brooding within. Her skin was pale blue with streaks of emerald, like painted waves of the sea, with trailing hair as white as clouds.

As a figure of godlike authority in her own past life, Akira Maximilian respected the power she exuded; every ounce of his mortal being immediately desired to breed with her, so as to create the most supreme pantheon of glowing-eyed, blue-skinned part-squirrel CEO superbabies that there ever was.

Because at that moment she understood, with utmost clarity, that one's value in this world was judged not primarily by their wealth…

But by their level.

...well...

'Level and wealth, as well as how SEXY they are!' A holy trinity.

'Actually, this Oracle's pretty cute...'

'Though, I wonder if players at her level can even still make love.'

Secretly, Akira had been extraordinarily flustered since her walk with Vash, among the depraved masses of downtown Acquama, and wasn't sure of how to express it.

'I've...never felt it this strongly before.'

She gulped, sweating bullets. Her plush thighs quivered with desire, as her anxious gaze lowered to the tiled floor.

Seeing her in this state, Vash stepped forward alone, in a sweeping bow, as the Oracle watched with a serene expression. Like a kindly mother, expecting a cute showing of crayon drawings.

"Great Oracle! I have a new player with me who seeks your profound wisdom."

He then gestured to Akira--

Adding, with a cough: "Ehem! If you'll please excuse her name."

The Oracle—unbothered—gave a magnanimous smile. "A charming name, to be sure," she said, in a voice that was crystal clear, gentle and soft as a lapping wave, but with an underlying strength of a typhoon: forceful, if need be.

She lowered her great head to stare closely at Akira, summoning a cool gust of wind in her wake.

"Tell me what it is that qualms you."

"Help!" Akira pleaded with a grimace as she turned to Vash, hunched over and groaning in her continued frustrated anguish. "Stomach...hurts...body hot...can barely...breathe…"

"Your stomach hurts?" He snapped. "Don't tell me you're hungry again, already!"

"The Squell Curse..." The Oracle mused, drawing both of their attentions as she stroked her magnificent chin. "An affliction which affects a Squell who hasn't engaged in any recent sexual activity."

"W-w-what?!" Akira uttered, in disbelief.

"What?" Vash uttered, unconsciously beaming with excitement.

"On that note, I'd like for the two of us to have a little private talk—"she glanced at Vash, her voice suddenly steeped in resentment—"that is, if mage boy here doesn't mind."

Vash gave a nonchalant wave. 

"Ah, not at all, Oracle-sama!" he said. "Whatever suits you. After all, I really am so grateful for all you've—"

"Yes, yes, I already know I'm awesome."

With a wave of her hand, he was encased in a block of ice.

Akira gasped. "What did you do?!"

The Oracle shrugged. "Eh, it's only temporary. There shouldn't be any lasting effects."

She snickered, with a devious glint to her eyes.

"I just can't stand the guy, personally. He used to come by here a lot asking soooo many questions about campfires and shit. Like, the dude really needs to get laid."

"You know...take a chill pill."

Akira laughed through her pain, liking this lady more by the second. "You're pretty 'chill' yourself," she complimented. This was turning out not at all like she expected.

To which the Oracle responded with a charmed smile, extending her hand to conjure a swirl of icy mist to appear in front of Akira, prompting her to shield her eyes. "Now, don't be shy. We're going to have a little fun now, just to help you relax."

From out of the mist, a human shape was drawn.

It was a freckle-faced young woman of a short stature and top-heavy, but otherwise slim figure. Shoulder-length hair, colored a dark ginger brown. Squinty eyes, with vibrant brown pupils, and perfectly pouty kissable lips. She was dressed in a black leather jacket and skirt; tall, glossy black laced-up boots with fishnet stockings, and a metal ring choker. A real punk.

This woman borne out of the mist was labelled [Level 1] [Azure Mirage], speaking in a far more subdued version of the Oracle's booming voice:

"We're just a regular pair of midwestern gals," she said. "Both musicians. I do lead vocals, you play the drums. We started a garage metal band with some other friends in High School, and stayed together all through college, playing a few gigs out of state, making a name for ourselves."

She crossed her arms, bearing a frown.

"It...really almost seemed like we were going places, but then…"

While the Mirage spoke, Akira noticed more of the icy mist creeping in along the surroundings like a rolling fog, until it fully enveloped her view of the inside of the Azure Temple.

She then watched as, gradually, the cover of mist took on various shapes and forms, culminating in a scene of a dimly lit motel room with rain pouring outside in heavy sheets. The bright headlights of cars, rushing by on the street, flooding in through the long glass window. A retro television showing a flickering image flooded in static, with garbled and distorted audio. An alarm clock on the bedside dresser, reading five minutes after midnight.

The [Azure Mirage] was standing at the foot of the bed with an open guitar laid across it, undoing the zipper of her jacket. 

Tossing her head, she let out a weary sigh.

"Unfortunately, there was an accident...on the drive to one of our gigs…"

Akira glanced down at herself, to see she was wearing a red tight-fitted midriff band T-shirt, cropped denim shorts and cowgirl boots.

"What the fuck is this shit?"

As well, her Squell arm fur, ears and tail were noticeably absent.

Then she took a cursory looke around, and saw...Vash! Still entombed in ice, his eyes were shifting with apparent consciousness throughout all of what was happening.

Meanwhile, the Mirage continued her narration:

"We're the only surviving band members."

She threw off her leather jacket onto the floor, revealing the lime green band t-shirt she wore beneath it. And her lovely round breasts, Akira noted.

"Because of the tragedy we've both had to endure together, a love has blossomed between us—"she slipped the band t-shirt off over her head, down to a black-laced shoulder-strap bra with lavender cups—"two talented and passionate young women, at the very height of our beauty…"

The Mirage then drew close to Akira, her voice falling to a raspy whisper: "Seeking comfort in one another's warm embraces."

Akira's heart was beating fast.

Her knees were weak, her brow slick with perspiration.

She wasn't sure of what was going on, but knew she liked it: the mirage proceeding to wrap their arms across her back, gripping her by the shoulders, nestling their head snugly against her.

"I want out of this crappy town, babe."

"Uhh…" Akira murmured, thinking, as she could feel the Mirage's expectant gaze upon her. 

'Was it like...a game of pretend?'

'Roleplay, it's called?'

"I'm...uhh...working on a business degree," she returned quickly, testing the waters.

The mirage nodded, pleased.

"You always were good at numbers."

Sighing with relief, Akira watched as she turned and strode toward the bed, plopping down onto it then facing up at her with a coy smile.

"What?" Akira asked, wary.

She was sitting cross-legged, dangling one booted foot out at him.

Akira nodded, with understanding.

Stooping to one knee, she started undoing the lace of the first boot.

The Mirage gave a small, amused laugh.

"It's a miracle you're still alive."

Akira froze, keeping her head bent low.

The rain outside continued to drone nonstop. A truck could be heard speeding through a large puddle on the highway, spraying a huge tide of water.

"Deep Karma wanted you DOA."

"Deep Karma?"

"It's the System that governs all of Nirvana."

Akira scoffed. "You talk like it's a person."

"It is," she cut back sharply, halting Akira as she was drawing the first boot off their foot. "Deep Karma is a sentient A.I., its chief duty being to individually judge every person's soul before they enter into Nirvana."

"So, computer God wants me deadl…"

With an annoyed growl, the Mirage brushed their other foot against her face. 

"Hurry up! I have needs too."

Akira sighed, grinning. "Yes, dear." Finally, yanking off the first boot and tossing it aside, secretly delighting in the musty smell of the Mirage's feet. 

'What the fuck is wrong with me?'

Shaking her head, she returned to her senses. Then slid over, to start on the next foot, as the Mirage returned to speaking "in-character" again:

"It's raining cats and dogs tonight."

"Y-yeah," Akira meekly replied, gliding her gaze across their nicely fattened thighs.

"Packaged" meat, with the stockings on.

Maybe it was this "Squell Curse" the Oracle had mentioned, but Akira Maximilian was a churning cauldron of tense emotions, waiting to blow. 

Being all slow and romantic in his approach…

Just wasn't going to cut it.

She shot a playful glance at the Mirage.

"I assume...none of this is real."

"None of it," she murmured in reply. 

Akira's breathing grew heavy, filled with excitement.

"So, I can do whatever I want?" An intense stare pervaded her eyes, hinting at some dark machinations within. "Like, injuries and hypothermia...wouldn't be real concerns, would they?"

The Mirage only smiled, eyebrows raised.

…

Hours later, the alarm clock in the dimly lit motel room still read five minutes past midnight.

However, neither of the two former bandmates turned lovers were to be found in that dimly lit motel room. Instead, they were outside, allowing their intense lovemaking to be doused by the piercing cold rainfall:

Rolling, intertwined, across the parking lot asphalt.

Slamming against motel doors.

Strewn across the splashing wet stairways.

There was no rhyme or reason, or delicate art to it at all; only rawly exposed pent up passions. Nor could it have just been Akira's so-called "Squell Curse" acting up, either.

It went...far deeper than that. Dipping into something primal.

A profound inner craving she'd had…

To re-exert control.

As the Mirage—an extension of the Oracle—seemed all too content to allow him that privilege, in spite of her being one of the most powerful beings in all of Nirvana. Each forceful act against her elicited a gasp or a grunt, but never a sound of protest or complaint.

The reigns were fully in Akira's hands.

And yet, Akira was growing more and more angry; becoming ever more vicious and brutal in her treatment of the ragdoll Mirage, as if fighting against something.

Scratching. Throwing. Pummeling.

Bones were being broken. Flesh ruptured.

Akira still couldn't accept the reality of her own death—that of her real self—aka the world's richest, youngest, cutthroat playboy billionaire CEO. 

She couldn't accept that all she'd traded her life, her youth, and even her soul for…

Was completely for nothing.

And now she was starting from the bottom rung all over again, with an omnipotent entity conspiring against her. Only spared, thus far, through the undeserved sacrifice of another—Lazuli: one far more worthy of this second life than he.

'Even the Squell Cattle to live more...'

Akira dragged the battered and broken [Azure Mirage] with her to the roadside, feverishly looking to and fro for any cars as the street lay eerily—and in her mind, suspiciously—empty.

"You're stopping the cars from showing up," she growled through her gritted teeth.

"Because you know what I'm about to do!"

Through her broken teeth and swollen, purple-bruised face covered in blood, the Mirage nonetheless still managed to crack a smile.

"No one...controls it," she gasped. "It's only...fate."

Akira's eyes widened. "Fate…?"

She heard a loud carhorn, the side of her face washed in oncoming floodlights.

Turning, she froze when she saw it—

A speeding delivery truck!

Exactly the same as the one that ended her first life!

'It isn't planned, it's just fate?'

Screaming in rage, she—

Fell to her knees. Head bowed.. Crying.