Number 100 Red Nova Sorcerer

Chapter 28: Preparations

I make it back to the castle, where a large crowd of Numbers waits. This must be more than half of the group I called! Powerful-looking men and women speak amongst themselves as they await my return. Well, I did not expect this many to fight with us! Even those harmed when they were in the Human World join us!

"This many will risk their lives?" I call out with a small chuckle and grin. "Thank you all. Now, those with missing body parts, please come with me. The rest of you, find Number 39 Aspiring Emperor Hope to start training immediately. Expect to be pushed past your limits." I enter the palace with a small group of Numbers with me.

After many turns in the hall, we enter a room in which they can get new parts for their missing areas. While we do not have technology like the Humans, one Number has managed to find a way to bind his own dangerous magic to mechanical parts and onto the bodies.

"ACID!" I snap, looking around for the giant of a Number. He is not as bulky as Dyson, but he's definitely taller. Much taller.

"Yes?" a coarse voice responds. The tell-tale scent of something burning reaches my nose, warning of the arrival of the dangerous yet serene beast.

Number 30 Acid Golem of Destruction comes into view shortly after the scent arrives. His skin is a dark shade of violet with a black marking across his forehead, dipping down into his nose and then going back up when it reaches his eyes. Wavy markings decorate his cheeks, and that's the end of that. A black, messy, soft mohawk lines his head, the tips starting short at the back of his head and growing in length as it nears the front. In an attempt to stop the leakage of his fatal acid, he's hooked up plastic tubes to the various holes in his body and attached them to a large tank, which is about half his height, half his weight, and strapped to his back. This has caused him to hunch forward some in an attempt to shoulder the huge weight. Currently, the acid has filled up about a quarter of the tank. His gloved hands, stained with more acid because they leak more than tubes can handle, are shoved deep into the pockets of his specially made alchemist-looking coat. It's brown lines with gold and a little bit of light brown. A silver pocket watch, which he actually made himself, is tucked into the pocket of his black slacks. A chain from the watch snakes from the pocket to a one of his belt loops. He is fairly lean and very tall, about four times taller than I am! He's actually the one who made the method of artificial limbs. In fact, his right leg is artificial and works exactly like a normal one! His throat is constantly lines with acid, so a hoarse voice and constant coughing is a natural curse for his kind. His toxic green eyes look down at everyone with a superior expression, but in reality, he's just normally very bored. He means no offense.

"Acid, these Numbers need new body parts," I explain, gesturing to those behind me. "Would you mind supplying them with some?"

Acid's shoulders shift, the liquid inside sloshing about, and he runs one hand through his hair in thought. "I can," he sighs.

"Good. See to it that they are compatible with their bodies," I instruct. "They need to be ready by next week at the latest."

The Golem's eyes widen drastically, an expression that normally doesn't cross his face. "My king, attaching the parts takes time, and the physical therapy is also a matter worth-"

"If I did not think you would be able to handle this, then I would have asked someone else, no? I know you can give me the results I want in that time."

Acid's gaze shifts to the Numbers, to me, and then back to the Numbers, a look of doubt momentarily crossing his face. Then, he sighs. "Very well." He ushers the Numbers inside and closes the door just as I take my leave.

~.Astral/Nova.~

I need another vessel to carry the death magic for me. I need one void of emotions so that the magic doesn't take over. I've learned this after hours of trying to control the magic that I, in reality, cannot control perfectly. I need a mindless puppet to handle it. Using the Creation Magic, I construct a vessel  with my form so that I can easily absorb it back into myself and materialize it when I need it.

The finished product is surprisingly good for my first attempt. Its pure white skin and empty eyes make it look like a blank canvas that I can paint on. Before I can even add markings, I need to add the magic so the detail can fill in by itself. I approach it and touch its forehead, my black arm slowly draining of the color. Black patches bloom on various parts of its skin as the process continues. When that's done, I reach deep inside myself for something else that I've noticed I have, but I never used it.

Toxins.

Somehow, my body acquired toxins. I found out when I woke up from my comatose state in the Floral Territory. I assume it was when I was bitten, but either way, I have it. I transfer this into the puppet as well, giving a purple hue to the black. Markings like mine but with different colors form on its body.

"Breathe," I hiss, pushing my palms to its chest. "Breathe!"

The puppet's heart flutters, its chest muscles spasm for a quick second before it becomes still once more. I continue my actions. The reactions grow ever stronger with each shove. Its eyes remain blank, signaling no intelligence. Its mouth opens slightly; small, desperate gasps for breath escape from the orifice as its body tenses.

"Live!" I growl, forcing more pressure on its chest. This gets a sharp cry of pain and surprise from it, a sure sign that it now lives.

It stares into the ceiling for a long while, awaiting instruction from me. I move my right arm up; it mirrors my movement. I send it a mental message to stand, so it does. So far, so good. I give it the command to come to me. The moment it does, I absorb it back into my body for later use.

I exit the room after opening the balcony doors to look for my brother. He must be somewhere in the castle; I can feel his dark aura. I wonder what he was doing to take so long. Was it just his speech, or was it something else he felt needed to be done? Well, he's here now, so I suppose he is doing fine. Shrugging the matter off, I wander around with no direction. I've been cooped up in that room for long enough; I need more air.

"Nova!" Blackie calls to me.

I run up to my brother. "Yes?"

"There will be more trained fighters among us now," he states. "Hopefully, the promised time Ichigo gave us is correct."

"It is," I console, setting my hand on his midnight shoulder. "We will have plenty of time. That is a good thing."

"Yes." He does not seem so convinced. "Let us hope that it stays that way for the rest of the time."

I grimace slightly. "Nothing good will come if you think negatively, Mist. You know this."

"I know." Blackie gives a short chuckle. "Just because I think that does not mean I have given up on winning."

"I know."