Fanfiction

## Prologue

Following the events of the Great War, mankind sought to attack the Three Factions when they were at their weakest point to prove to them why humanity itself should be considered an equal to even their races, a manifestation of humanities desire to become the absolute bst and most evolved life form on the planet. While formerly somewhat contented, as they were at the top of the food chain, the Three Factions shook the race in a form of an existential crisis that only the Magicians could actually fix, and as a result, the Magician's Council, an organization that works very closely with the French Church and Exorcist, was split, forming the precursor to Nilrem in the Khaos Brigade. This, rouge Magic Council, dissaitisifed with the peaceful mannerisms of their brethren, soiught to create supersoliders, an army of individuals that would strengthen them against their enemies and allow them to have a trump card capable of fighting off the rapidly expanding numbers of both Devils and Angels while staving off Fallen Angel influence, with the desire to prove to the world that humankind too can become a completely independent species relative to the supernatural races.
These supernatural trump cards would culminate in the pinnacle of alchemical feats, the creation of the first Homunculus, with the desire to bring to life something that would truly wipe out their enemie like no other weapon could. Fighting the magical with the magical, man, woman and child of mystical and alchemical inclination pooured their hearts, soul, body and mind into the construction and creation of such a being, as the Homunculus ravenously devoured soul after soul to become awakened. Nilrem's numbers vastly dropped due to this being, Karina LaBelle as she was called by those who started the project, as even when mildy awakened her desire was almost as if she sought out human souls to devour them, and clearly took great pleasure in doing so, judging from the pleasure-indicating eye roll she made with each and every thud, those in charge of the operation dedicating time and energy into creating a powerful enough offering to the Homunculus so that she might walk forth, as with each and every soul she consumed they could tell that she grew incredibly stronger and more intelligent, knowledgable of everything going on around her. Suddenly shattering the glass with an exertion of magic power vastly surpassing that which was continuously fed to her after hearing the final thud, the newborn Karina looked down at the shattered magic glass on the floor, noticing both her aura and her quite shapely figure, noticing that with her proportions, each and every last magician's soul she consumed were complete and utter perverts on a scale that would make them considered the natural enemy of all women by several individuals.

## Chapter One

***January 21, Year Zero of Story***

"It has come to our attention that the Magic Council will not support our ideals and aspirations in overthrowing the Three Factions and starting our own Great War where humanity becomes the dominant species. As a result, this can only mean that we must find an alternative method to both attain the necessary forces and raw destructive power that will enable us to atleast match, if not surpass the powers of the Three Factions and enable us to invade the Magic Council and overthow the leadership. As a result, I believe it is in our best interest to devote time, energies, research and resources into prohjects that will better enable us to become prepared for the war we wish to start. While our goals may be noble, it is clear that our own race will not simply accept our intention to takeover these realms unprepared for our rule, and we may need to slay some of our brethren, or even worse, partner with the supernatural beings we so wish to destroy. However, would it not be better if we could create our own? I, Cyril Blaine, the French Ambassador of our noble conspiracy, would like to propose the first of such aforementioned projects. We present you with Project Homunculus. We ask for your faith in us as we begin this project, and your financing, so that we begin our preparations for our Grand War."

Signed, Cyril Blaine
Chief Alchemist of France
A young man with golden blonde hair and similarly coloured eyes watches over his work several times, looking for any discrepancies in his letter. "*Finally, this war may begin,"*he thought to himself. The young Cyril stood up from his quite expansive library, observing his exquisite red carpet with golden fringes and well maintained books kept in shelves of smooth white wood, smiled, and left his throne of books behind. Picking up a book on the French Language and walking towards what seemed to be an alchemy lab with strange glowing engravements on every portion of the room and covering each and every section of the wall.

*"Time to get to work."*

***July 27***

In the midst of Paris, deep in the heart of the city which birthed and embellishes itself in Gothic arichtecture, laid a rather large Catholic Church that no-one exactly knew who it belonged to. No-one ever seemed to leave the Church, or no-one ever seemed to enter the church, and yet, the church was constantly clean, maintained, and at times, strange chants, almost akin to invocations could be heard erupting like mantras in the midst of the dark, temperate nights. In fact, even the construction of the building was a mystery, one day the land being bought in the name of the Great Church, dn the other the building seemed to abnormally appear from nothingness. It would just so happen that on July 27th, these noises, the chants, the screams, the shouts, they all raised dramatically in amplitude, almost as if the Church made a switch in denominations from Catholic to Pentecostal. The low tone and hum of men deep in focus permeated the atmosphere for miles from the source, chanting in a language seemingly beyond mortal comprehension, baflfing even the most advanced of linguists. These words continued to repeat loudly, shaking beginning to shake the Church visibly and reverberating from the hollow walls of the Church, as those who continued to boserve were paralyzed with fear and a loss of whatever investigative determination they might have had. As this volume increased, the words slowly became clearer, though yet again, any ordinary individual could not pick it up. This, of course, was magic, and any human lacking the mystical talent and the gift to control the ambient energies of the universe could never hope to understand the pinnacle of alchemical miracles that was currently taking place right in their very doorsteps.

If one were to go past the shattered glass panes that failed to keep out the light of the moon, the large brown door seemingly made of polished greenheart with an enormous golden cross within it, and the several barricades of benches behind said door, one would come across a sight one would not expect to see in a Church. Several men, clearly grown-adults fdrom the powerful depth and masculinity in their bvoices all draped in black hooded-leather garments, or, black robes in layman's terms, perhaps members of this peculiar church all gathering around and bowing before what seemed to be a magnified/glorified test tube with a lid at it's apex, putting all of their being into said test tube, containing quite a shapely young woman. Did I say several men? Sorry, I hope you would excuse me for such a grand mistake, I meant several hundred men covering the entirety of the church, and if several hundred was not enough, several thousand, as several hundred was perhaps only the number countable from immediately opening the door, the black robes outnumbering even the shadows of the night that fell within the cave. The aforementioned young woman appeared to be asleep, yet for unknown reasons was tossing and turning at each and every little word uttered by the church-people, who continued chanting with unweavering confidence, calmness, and determination. With only one individual standing out, a tall muscular young man witha  distinct jawbone and neatly-shaved facial hair, who seemed to be spear-heading the entire "ceremony", one would wonder if this really was a Church, or if they were actually summoning the Devil. But the answer to that was somewhat better, and somewhat worse than both  possiblities. One could say that they were in fact the Church, but they weren't "summoning" a Devil, oh no, they were creating one for the "protection of all mankind." Such were the goals of the organization truly involved here, the organization  that would come to be named, Nilrem, in times to come. These, Christian sorcerers suddenly stopped their chant for a mere second, as the woman within the containment made a deep, sharp breath, unconscious, but breathing despite all air being locked out from her surroundings. Their pause did not last for long however, as they were told to continue the ritual at all costs by said spear-header as their splinter-faction would require the research put into her in order to continue with the next stage of their plans, ***whatever those were.*** The omnipresent hum of the otherwise silent night slowly divided into a cantillation that blended both the murmurs and a new aspect of the ritual.

***"Stabilire Karina, '''''***Stabilire Karina. Veterum ritus Perfecio."

Half of the people seemingly responsible for this ritual began to seemingly call this woman out by name, or were they naming her? Perhaps that was a mystery unknown even to these individuals, as the woman convulsed as if being electrocuted by the combined voltage of a million electric eels, almost as if she was under incredible pain unlike anything imaginable by the mere common man, yet being healed at a seemingly similar rate, as no physical injuries were on the smallest quark of her composition. In fact, one might say she was flawless, and in way (actually, in several) one would not be wrong. Her physical body showing all signs of life except irritablity, it was almost as if she was fully conscious yet at the same time just shut down completely in terms of sensory capabilties, something that no-one magician present seemed to be able to accept. The ultimate embodiment of sacrificing oneself for one's goals, what they did next is something that needs a bit of context for one to truly understand the magnitude of what was done beyond that of someone who merely listened to someone repeat the words. While science is convinced that conscious thought and sensory capabilities all originate from the centre of thought, or the brain, the mystical side of the world is convinced that thought comes from the concept known as the mind, which is a derivative of the soul. As a result, these magicians, instead of simply giving up, laid down their very lives and offered their souls up to the cause, forcing conscious thought into the woman they seemed to be working so incredibly hard to revive, or perhaps, bring to life? If one really thought about it, this entire process seemed much more like alchemy than actual healing magic, as to both sides of the glass cage that this prisoner was trapped within, one could find vast arrays of chemical compounds, what appeared to be reagents, vials containing strange blood that seemed to continuously change form once being taken out, and semeed to compeltely neutralize what appeared to be all other forms of blood during a "coincidental" spillage, this was in fact a room where alchemy was taking place. This was a room of human and humanoid experimentation, and this woman? Well, she was to be the resultant of their grandest experiment ever, the attainance of the alchemical legend known as the perfect artificial human, or Homunculus. The Church wasn't named the Church of the Transfiguration (in French of cours) for nothing anyways. Too far? Too far. Almost breaking out into a song, each and every individual magician began to hum in several different tones, as the melodious tones coalesced into what was the true embodiment o all sound, each individual mystically supporting their own limited vocal chords to produce several tones simultaneously and therefore allowing them to represent each tone on every scale known to man.

Slowly but surely, the vast numbers of persons meant to behold the beauty of the creation continued to drop at an ever-increasing rate. It was commonly known that most incredible feats of magic come at a great cost, and usually, if a group were the ones to start such a spell or invocation, it would usually result in the cost being greater, yet split equally among each member of the group in a manner they could actually repay it in. However, this was clearly not the case here, because of one, *harmless* reason: The desire to achieve utter perfection, to become noted as the cream of the crop in the fields of alchemy and produce what no-one has ever created before, the perfect Homunculus. A perfect transmutation also required perfect reagents, or a perfect sacrifice, and as perfect reagents simply cannot exist in the universe, it does not take much to see that each and every last one of the magician's casting the spell, reagarldess of they cahnneled magical energy into it in the first place were going to die. But they started it knowing therisks, so they would continue down to the very end. As the final magician collapsed to the ground, still channeling every last ember of power within his body, chanting the name, Karina, the woman's eyes shot open, and with his dying breath, he looked at his creation and  thought it was good, titling it LaBelle, or the Beauty. But it, was no longer an "it" but a "her", a person, or in fact an entity a bit grander than a regular person. As the last embers withered away into the dark nothingness of the night, the woman, still in the glass, looked around her, down the red-carpet and towards the last individual standiing, the project manager in curiosity. Several voices sounded simultaneously in cacophonous harmony, as the newly named Karina LaBelle pointed her finger forward, releasing a magical power that broke her containment, sent powerful winds flying througout the room, and the windows fluttering in and out on their hinges repeatedly.

"*Who are you?" she asked.* The winds intensified with each subsequent word, pushing the recently dead magicians and sending them flying throughout the room in  a disturbing show of raw power, as the woman slowly walked down from the elevated position her confinement was situated in, moving down from the top of the altar to the grand halls of the church, sawyng her hips wioth a feminine allure to it surpassing most naturally created females.

Now, the common cliche for most beings now waking up from some sort of slumber is to ask, who am I. But you see now, Homunculi work differently. Homunculi have no concept of age, being fully matured at birth and attaining all necessary information and knowledge from the beginning to be considered matured, and a seemingly endless lifespan for as long as they are not killed in battle. This necessary information also includes a sense of identity and self brought to them inherently by merely existing, and as a result, their first question will be about their environment, not themselves.

Back to the scene however, the only man left in the area of the Church stood in a mixture of fear and awe at the Homunculus's power, as she passively cleaned her nails while waiting for a response.

*"Well? I don't have all-night, I'm a busy gal."* Karina, finishing up with her nails, ran her fingers through her long, thick auburn hair, awaiting a response from the seemingly helpless individual. *"I can sense I'm not the only one you created. What is it that you call us again? Ho-, Homunculi, yeah, I got it, Homunculi. You are aware if I just decided to leave now there's not much you can do to stop me right? So, let me rephrase the question I asked you...earlier."* The female humanoid steps forward with the utmost of grace almost paralyzing the captivated project manager. As Karina approached him, the poor man sweated enough bricks to build him a Minecraft house, and started shouting unintelligble blabber, not sure how to react, before finding himself hovering three arm-lengths above the ground, pinned to a wall. *"Now, who are you, and tell me everything you know, for your own good",* she says while stroking his chest playfully, *"darling."* Karina was well aware that the Church was overrun by perverted males, several of them deciding to pledge chastity in excahnge for divine blessings or favour and as a result kept these thoughts hidden, and had no problem capitalizing on it. A strange detail to inherently know but understandable considering she was created by "the Church". Karina looked down at his chest area, before noticing a small card within a carefully concealed pocket on his right side. *"Oooh...Cyril. Man you take long to speak."*

"I, know nothing." the fabulist spoke, his status as a teeler of unthruths clear as day to the woman who had absorbed the very souls of all of his lacke-, I mean, comrades serving the greaterepurpose of alchemical perfection. "Don't lie to me. Your survival indicates that you are clearly more important than you look, so get talking." Cyril fought valiantly to keep up his ruse as the beast he planned to create backfired on him, the reins being placed on him rather than the creature of his own creation and now he understood the repercussions. The repercussions of creating artificial life, with the first risk being there's no way to guarantee their loyalty. "I..won't speak, for the greater good of my cause."

"Hmm.. a man who never beaks his oath huh? How admirable.", Karina said, proceeding to switch her speech patterns continuously in what appeared to be her incredibly rare (and incredibly strange) verbal tic. "Well, that's a real shame honey...hoped I didn't have to do this to ya, but you left me no choice." A near downright demonic grin appeared on Karina's face in that very instant, as a cane suddenly manifests in her hand. The buzz of lightning could be  heard emnating from the staff, as Karina lightly tapped on his chest. Cyril writhed in agony unsurpassed by anything he had ever felt in his life, he felt all of his age and maturity fade away before this light tap as he began to cry and shriek the high-pitched streak of a young girl, not a grown experienced man. The cackling of an evil sorceress permeated the entitety of the church's echoing atmosphere, bouncing off the building's hollowed walls and increasing in volume in a form of constructive interference, continuously growing louder to match the combined hum of all the recently dead individuals around her. Throughout the night, people claimed to have seen lightning strike through the Church several times accompanied by a scream of absolute terror. The thought of the common man and woman walking past this busy road was simply, "Such a weird church". And such a weird church indeed, if only they had truly known.

The next morning, a tall, slender young woman dressed in the very embodiment of the sterotypical "hot witch's outfit" fetish emerged from the massive doors of the church, and from the sounds that occured the last night, garnered the attention, and concern of several persons, who believed that those sounds within the perimeter of the Church and the emergence of a woman could only mean she was raped by the Clergy. Oh, if only they knew what had really happened. Of course, Karina being the type of manipulative woman she is, said yes, but not before taking literally all of their resources, documents, and research papers, leaving them empty-handed, and imprisoned. Yes, life was sweet for Karina, the Homunclus on her way to Japan. Borrowing the international clearance documents the geezer had told her about, Karina sat comfortably in the upper echelons of first class, due to being told of a link in Kuoh Town to the rest of the Homunculi. Maybe she'd even find some good food, who knows?

Stretching her hands into the incredibly concealed pockets of her mystical garb that took the form of a skirt, Karina pulled out a shard of glass, broken by the winds created by her own power, and looked at her reflection. She was far too proportioned to the male desire, which explained the several glares she had been getting. "Perverts. Each and every last one of them." Picking up the magazine stowed away in front of her, Karina noticed a certain buxom figure with long crimson hair. "Oh...so the Gremory Clan's heiress has dominion over this particular area. Interesting..I wonder what her plans could possibly be, but surely she has...some knowledge of what's actually going on."