Gloria’s Terms and X’s Lament

“Pfft, alright, alright, my esteemed benefactor, my sincerity towards you is absolute… pfft.”

Upon seeing the little loli before her—no, ‘Gloria-chan’ was the proper address—strutting about with the same haughty, conceited air she had displayed at their initial encounter, X found herself unable to suppress a chuckle.

For Gloria was, in truth, utterly adorable.

Gloria believed that by putting on airs and uttering solemn pronouncements, she could project an image of maturity and gravitas.

Yet, to X’s discerning eye, she appeared nothing more than an emotionally immature child, clad in grown-up attire for an adult gathering.

The suit, clearly held up by a hanger, and the water balloons conspicuously tucked into the neckline of her gown, were blatant contrivances.

Even with the most serious expression she could muster, her delightful little face possessed not an ounce of genuine menace.

Gloria-chan, it seemed, remained blissfully unaware of the profound impact her appearance wielded, an innocence so potent that any attempt at outward disguise was instantly pierced, revealing her true, unadulterated self to all observers.

She was, in every sense, pure adorableness incarnate.

Moreover, what if Gloria-chan truly embodied a heinous Blasphemous Demon God, a universally dreaded antagonist?

X had no prior acquaintance with the former Gloria.

She only knew that the current impression Gloria conveyed was, thus far, remarkably favorable.

Nevertheless, this did not imply X would grant her complete trust.

Time was still required to truly ascertain Gloria’s genuine character.

Gloria, for her part, seemed oblivious to any underlying impropriety in X’s tone, simply offering a nod in response.

“Yet, every endeavor bears a cost.

I am neither inherently benevolent nor utterly malevolent.

By the classification of your human nine-alignment grid of good and evil, I would likely fall into the chaotic neutral camp.

Anything that displeases my sight, be it virtuous or wicked, I shall endeavor to obliterate.

Conversely, anything that captures my attention, regardless of its nature, I shall strive with all my might to safeguard.

Your trust in me is of no consequence; my sole focus lies in tangible advantages.

Trust, being predicated upon past experiences, and the future remaining inherently uncertain, renders any relationship built purely on such faith inherently fragile.

Only demonstrable, material benefits possess the capacity to sustain a genuine collaborative bond.

As one of your own maxims wisely states, ‘There are no eternal allies, only eternal interests.’

Thus, my current state of possession within you is also born of a specific need.

As I previously stated, my physical form having been stolen and my powers sealed, my soul currently remains unstable, and my strength is incomplete.

Consequently, I urgently require the retrieval of the Divine Remains and various artifacts scattered across this world to reclaim my full capabilities.

Throughout my endeavor to recover my true body, you shall be obliged to render me your unwavering assistance.

Provided you aid me in locating my physical form and enable me to reclaim a portion of my inherent power, I shall, in turn, bestow upon you commensurate rewards.

You are free to consider this a mere transaction.

Be it wealth, influence, raw power, or anything else your heart desires, I possess the means to fulfill your every wish.

I can even provide a partial advance payment as a guarantee.

So, then, do the terms of this arrangement meet with your satisfaction?

Should there be anything you desire, voice it now.

Let us both be forthright, adhering to our individual needs and aspirations.

There is naught to conceal.”

Having articulated her conditions, Gloria granted X ample time to deliberate and formulate a rational response.

Though she was keenly aware that, owing to the soul contract, X possessed no avenue to refuse the transaction, Gloria understood that Demonic Edicts were best kept as unspoken leverage; openly discussing them would only cause discomfort for both parties involved in the exchange.

‘Any condition can be met?’

Previously, X had dismissed Gloria-chan as merely a little loli attempting to mimic adult speech.

However, the gravity of Gloria’s pronouncements had effectively dispelled the lingering doubts in X’s mind.

She no longer perceived Gloria as some malicious computer virus implanted by an external entity, but rather as a genuine extraterrestrial life form, housing an ancient and profoundly wise soul.

Faced with such exceedingly generous terms from this otherworldly being—the promise of fulfilling her every desire in exchange for merely aiding its search for lost artifacts within this realm—X found herself momentarily caught in a web of hesitation.

“The influx of information is overwhelming; allow me a moment to process…”

“Time is indeed ample.

I shall await your response.”

In that instant, X recalled her inability to perceive her own body, save for a lingering ache in her posterior and chest.

This disconnect from reality stirred a profound unease within her, prompting her to voice a request: she wished to ascertain the integrity of her physical form.

Acceding to her request, Gloria then manifested a transparent thread, which she deftly connected to X’s very soul.

In a flash, a chilling darkness enveloped X, who, from a first-person vantage, beheld a pristine white pearl slumbering on the seabed, its image reflected in the polished surface of a black crystal.

Initially, a wave of relief washed over her, celebrating the complete restoration of her physical form.

This, however, was swiftly eclipsed by a surge of profound grief.

The self-repairing, chemical-resistant black silk, valued at thirteen billion, which had adhered to her body, was utterly gone!

This black silk functioned akin to X’s own exoskeleton, shielding her from a myriad of harmful rays.

Furthermore, it boasted the self-repairing capabilities of nanomaterials, allowing it to fully regenerate from head to toe within ten minutes of sustaining damage or being incinerated.

What was more, she possessed the ability to actively control its repair process, crafting various visual representations—from ‘normal’ to ‘overloaded’ to ‘severely damaged’—all to be cataloged within her personal inspiration database.

Instantly, X felt a significant portion of life’s pleasures diminish.

Regardless, she reasoned, at least she had survived, and the world offered more than just that single type of regenerative hazmat suit for her to tear with abandon.

‘Woe is me, my exclusive inspiration database…’

Following this, she commenced a thorough inspection of her body, seeking any missing modules or components.

To her astonishment, she discovered that her charging port had been blocked, and in its place, a peculiar jellyfish-shaped mark had inexplicably appeared.

Initially, whenever X charged herself using a super high-voltage electrical grid of several hundred thousand volts, she experienced an extraordinary sensation of pleasure.

She had mistakenly believed that only the act of charging could elicit such feelings.

Subsequently, during a laboratory mishap, X inadvertently plummeted from a considerable height onto a novel uranium rod, and to her surprise, she again encountered a similar rush of stimulation and pleasure.

It was then that she deduced the crux of the matter lay not in the presence of an electrical current, but rather in the existence of an orifice.

From that moment onward, she experimented with carbon rods, electromagnetic missiles, and even nanomaterial fingers, swiftly becoming enamored with the practice and cultivating a commendable habit of ‘three orifices a day.’

Yet, with the disappearance of these orifices, such delights would, alas, cease to exist…

‘Oh, my sacred orifices of maidenly bliss…’

She lamented.

‘At least,’ she consoled herself, ‘aside from the absence of a few apertures, this body’s external form remains intact.

At worst, I can simply create new ones with my fingers later.’

Amidst her profound sorrow, the young woman utterly disregarded the peculiar jellyfish mark, instead beginning to vengefully massage the two prominent ‘snow mountains’ upon her chest with her small, claw-like hands.

The tactile sensation and texture remained largely unaltered, yet she distinctly perceived a subtle reduction in size, a transformation from a D-cup to a C.

“Which thoughtless brute, when striking a beautiful maiden, would aim for her chest instead of her face?

You’ll flatten them into steel plates!”

‘Could the Skyfire Cannon inflict such irreparable damage upon the data within the gravity core that, upon subsequent repair, even one’s breast shape could be altered?

Is its power truly so formidable?’