Unwritten Mythos

Recently, Mei had immersed herself in the realms of philosophy and physics, seeking to break through the boundaries of both. If she was to unveil the mysteries of the universe, she needed to grasp the rules governing it and discover new elements through particle collisions. By observing the interplay of particles, how they supported one another and then scattered apart, she could probe into their properties, gleaning insights that would lead her to formulate a profound rule.

Just as life evolves and civilization flourishes, it requires a collision to reveal its true nature. To that end, Mei conjured forth a legion of monsters, each akin to individual , unique and intricate. Though she scrutinized these creatures, allowing them to unveil their secrets, she realized that mere observation would not suffice. To truly expose their essence, she needed to orchestrate collisions—violent encounters where their powers would clash.

Theoretically, this meant forcing the monsters into a battle to the death. In such a dire struggle, they might unleash abilities hidden even from themselves. The collisions would illuminate their strengths and weaknesses, revealing how they could complement or restrain one another. This was the most efficient way to draw conclusions.

Within the ethereal crack of space, Mei surrounded by shelves brimming with books of diverse subjects.

"Energy is mass; time is space," she murmured, recalling the principles of the special theory of relativity. "The speed of light remains unyielding, suggesting that the distinction between mass and energy is merely a constant."

Yet, she noted, "The inherent traits of most cannot be easily explained by science."

Through her relentless experimentation, she discovered three categories of traits among the monsters she had summoned. The first was inherent traits—abilities bound by the laws of physics. Take, for instance, 002, the Deep One, who could perceive sound waves. When he emitted a sound, a fraction was absorbed by human ears, allowing him to sense their presence without diffusion.

The second category was secondary traits—those that skirted the edges of logic and embraced the supernatural. One such creature had the power to command its shadow to attack others. Another, 003 the Hollow, could harm individuals through their reflections in mirrors, a feat reliant on the refraction of light, blending the lines between science and the mystical.

Yet, it was the third category that fascinated Mei most: absolute traits. These traits superseded all others and defied conventional understanding. Imagine an absolute sharp spoon, capable of piercing the earth itself upon impact. It embodied the principle of absolute sharpness, meaning nothing could resist its cut.

Then there was the black arrow, a weapon wielded by 009, with traits of absolute hit and absolute indestructibility. This was the first absolute trait Mei had encountered, and now it rested in her possession.

"If the vase could absorb the black arrow's absolute hit trait," Mei pondered, "two scenarios might arise with the Potion."

In the first, those who consumed it could transform into black arrows, striking with an absolute hit upon being thrown. In the second, any object they threw might gain the same absolute hit trait.

However, there were two significant hurdles. The first was the black arrow's absolute indestructibility. When this trait be applied to a person or creature, it could create an immortal being. The second was far simpler: there was only one arrow. With its indestructible nature, it was impossible to split it for further experimentation.

Mei recalled her own words: "Trait entrusted, trait extracted, trait fusion, trait advanced." This cycle of alchemy involved placing a trait within the vase to create a potion for consumption, hence the entrusting. Extracting traits from individuals, be it through blood or hair, allowed for fusion, leading to the birth of new trait.

After each cycle of extraction and fusion, the organism would embody a breakthrough trait. Yet, even as she theorized the potential for ultimate characteristics, Mei remained uncertain of what the outcome would ultimately yield.

On one side of the vast bookshelf loomed a massive refrigerator, its interior brimming with an array of serums. Among these vials were not only those derived from the monsters Mei had summoned but also samples extracted from ordinary humans. Each serum was a testament to her relentless pursuit of understanding—like the one from Enko, a leukemia patient, or a serum from a vegetative state. Each contained its own set of traits, waiting to be unlocked.

Opposite the refrigerator stood a series of shelves laden with Mei's latest concoctions, each potion meticulously crafted and stored in double quantities. Yet some of these brews teetered on the edge of danger, their unpredictable outcomes a source of unease even for Mei herself. Among them were two newly configured bottles, ominously named "Angel" and "Demon."

The Demon Potion had already been entrusted to Zero, the Supreme Leader of Kitsune. However, the Angel Potion lingered without a suitable candidate to receive it. Mei understood well that the angelic essence was far more perilous than its demonic counterpart.

The ingredients of the Angel Potion were a potent blend: a myriad of biological embryos, materials harvested from various birds, and, most crucially, a split product from a great serpent—an enormous egg adorned with white feather patterns. This egg resembled a bird's, yet it was the size of a cantaloupe. Within, something stirred, a life force pulsing weakly—so fragile that Mei could extinguish it with a mere breath.

Despite her extensive research, the nature of this enigmatic egg eluded her understanding. Frustrated, she had cast it into the vase, using it to forge the Angel Potion.

"Of course, if the Demon Potion has been distributed, then the Angel should also find a worthy vessel," Mei mused. Yet she knew that this candidate could not belong to the Kitsune, the Chaos Insurgency, or any former monster.

"Let me see if there are any suitable candidates in the GPA," she decided, her perspective shifting as the layers of darkness peeled away, revealing the gleaming headquarters of the GPA.

As she surveyed the scene, her gaze swept skyward, taking in the organization's unique structure. Unlike the Kitsune, whose ranks were divided by nation, the GPA was organized across the seven great continents. Her eyes scanned each of the seven GPA directors, searching for signs of potential.

"Everyone seems quite ordinary," she noted, her intuition honed for the extraordinary amidst the mundane.