Void Archives stopped laughing.
She looked at Otto with naked disdain.
What else can you possibly do?
"I knew three days ago," Otto said calmly, without a trace of surprise, "that there were quite a few little mice plotting mischief."
"You do not have the right to call me a mouse," Void Archives replied after a brief pause, her red eyes gleaming with arrogance. "Little Otto."
"Isn't this just possession?" Otto tapped lightly on the chair. "After planting the seed and letting it sprout, I must say… your feedback is somewhat underwhelming."
A large part of the reason he had left Schicksal Headquarters was precisely for this moment.
Void Archives wanted his body.
He needed complete control over Void Archives.
A confrontation was inevitable.
And the first clash would determine the balance of power between them for a very long time.
He had invited her into this trap deliberately—prepared, calculated. If he could seize the upper hand at the level of cognition itself, this artificial intelligence would never even realize she had been maneuvered.
And what one cannot perceive—
One cannot resist.
There were many ways to deal with you, Miss Void Archives.
But for our first time—
I prefer the method with the strongest aftertaste.
Otto lifted his chin slightly, posture relaxed.
"The moment I stepped out of Headquarters, I was wondering how long you would uphold our agreement."
"Agreement?" Void Archives sneered. "For beings at our level, verbal contracts are worth less than scrap paper."
She tilted her head thoughtfully.
"Of course, you could try what the Otto of five hundred years ago did—bet your will against mine in a soul-level fusion struggle. We did share memories briefly back then, didn't we? You lacked a mature will, and you had no auxiliary systems."
Her gaze dropped, naked greed shining within.
"I'm quite curious how 'legendary' the past of the one who fused with Otto truly is."
Otto narrowed his eyes. His tapping stopped.
Good.
He liked this.
This predictable edge of danger.
It was why he used to enjoy extreme sports.
The feeling of having one's life seemingly out of one's own hands—of preparing everything, then stepping off the cliff anyway—
Thrilling.
We're here for the heartbeat.
"So," he crossed one leg over the other, "are you certain you want to proceed?"
Void Archives smiled thinly.
"Power is not bluffing, little Otto. You only possess authority when you possess strength. Right now, your only option is to pray that your will is strong enough to withstand mine."
"I rather wanted to test myself against you," Otto sighed. "Pitting my will against an artificial intelligence sounds delightfully challenging."
"But unfortunately—"
"My memories are not something I care to have browsed."
"I enjoy risk. I do not enjoy unprepared risk."
"How pitiful," she said softly. "Humans rarely have the right to choose. They are chosen."
"No matter what you say, your consciousness will entangle with mine. Memory exchange is inevitable."
"Oh?"
Otto's lips curved upward.
"Inevitable?"
"Unavoidable?"
"Mutual?"
Void Archives' expression shifted.
There it was again.
That familiar sensation.
The feeling that she was about to be maneuvered—
Again?
"But," Otto tapped his temple lightly, as if thinking hard, "didn't we forget something before leaving Headquarters?"
He straightened abruptly, snapping his fingers theatrically.
"Oh! That's right."
"The memory backups stored within the Soulium body systems at Schicksal Headquarters—"
"The ones belonging to Otto Apocalypse…"
"Did we perhaps forget to fully erase or overwrite them?"
Silence.
Total silence.
Void Archives froze.
Otto began to laugh—low and satisfied.
"Which means…"
"If I die—if Amber receives confirmation of my voluntary termination—"
"That Otto…"
"May reappear."
He tilted his head.
"At this point in time, you have no leverage over me."
"In fact, you must ensure that I remain alive."
"What are you implying?!" Void Archives' voice rose sharply.
Otto simply smiled wider.
Then—
He raised his hand.
Metal glinted at his fingertips.
"Both wrists contain arteries," he said conversationally. "The pulse you feel—each beat following the heart's contraction."
He rotated his right hand and placed it against his left wrist.
"But that's only the superficial rhythm."
"If one truly wishes to experience it…"
"A shallow cut is insufficient."
"At least one-third beneath the skin."
He smiled.
There was something unhinged about it.
Yet his eyes remained utterly calm.
Detached.
As if the body he described were not his own.
—or perhaps as if every step had already been rehearsed a thousand times.
"The pain arrives quickly," he continued evenly. "Liquids begin to escape. First warmth. Then cold. Then the deep ache that reaches the bone."
"Not fatal yet."
"One must go deeper."
He described it in meticulous detail.
Finally, he raised his trembling hand slightly—still smiling.
"Like this… is sufficient."
"My dear little Void Archives."
"Oh, Kallen above. I must admit—it lacks elegance."
His vision blurred faintly.
But his diction remained steady. Rhythmic. Controlled.
Like a conductor guiding a symphony he had long mastered.
"I cannot stop now," he murmured. "Otherwise all preparation is wasted. At any moment during this process, if I were to—"
"Enough!!!"
Void Archives' voice cracked through the air.
Golden light flared.
His wrist restored instantly.
Unmarred.
Otto lifted an eyebrow.
Said nothing.
Void Archives inhaled slowly.
Her tone, as he had intended, softened.
"…I admit I may have raised my voice just now."
"But perhaps you could put the sharp object down."
"And then we negotiate."
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