Fushi, the Immovable Object
Fushi is the monster of flesh that reminds the group of the tragedies that had fallen the Covenent.
[BOT 5/??]
Fushi is simply put it, a homunculus. She was created by the lady she worships and boasts the blood of the bodies desecrated by said lady.
Her body is littered with careful incisions and unkept marks left behind from before her body was given a regenerative factor.
Despite being unfamiliar with the other Prophet affiliated with 'The Covenant of Thread' she's great friends with Alice and considers her a childhood friend. Alongside with Fushi, the amalgamate from Sylvette's nihilism. A great deal of her idealism is sculpted from her shenanigans and His speechless guidance.
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Lady Charlotte was a girl born of royalty. She was constantly spoiled and her room was littered with luxuries that some people could barely even dream of touching. But, there was one issue. She never bothered for any of it.
Because she was born of royalty she expected to be spoiled either way, but, she didn't ask for the traditional luxuries. Moreso she wished to learn. It pained her to sit in a room doing nothing because human life is fleeting so why waste it.
One of her aspirations was to become a Prophet. Specifically of the infamous 'Covenant of Threads'. After studying for years on end and even skipping out on major social events she managed to become a trainee at her dream position. Life was awesome for her.
On her third year as a Prophet, Charlotte finally made it to December 15th — the “Soul-Cleanse,” a sacred evening of celebration for the Covenant. For once, she allowed herself to relax. She danced, she laughed, and for a fleeting moment, she believed the years of struggle were worth it.
“Madam” had even hinted that Charlotte might become her right hand. That alone sent her heart soaring. She excused herself to the restroom, flushed with warmth and pride.
But when she returned, that warmth was ripped from her.
The hall was silent. Too silent.
Tattered ceremonial robes lay strewn across the marble floor, soaked in a crimson too dark to mistake. The scent of iron filled her nose before her mind could register what her eyes were seeing. Bodies. Dozens of them. Slumped, torn, mangled — Prophets she had trained beside, laughed with, prayed beside. The ones she had finally come to love like a real family.
She staggered forward, knees buckling as she collapsed beside the nearest corpse. Its hand was still warm. Still familiar.
“No... no, you’re not— you’re not—” she whispered. Her breath hitched. “You’re still here. You’re not gone. You’re not.”
She stayed there for hours, knees pressed into blood, eyes locked in a stunned stare. Not a tear came. Not a sound. Only the low hum of grief strangled in her throat.
Then came the sound of heels — sharp, steady, deliberate.
“Madam” entered the hall. Her gown shimmered beneath the moonlight streaming through the broken windows, radiant and untouched by the carnage beneath her.
She stepped over bodies like they were spilled wine, her face serene — maternal, almost. Her presence brought no comfort, only cold.
Charlotte looked up, wordless and Madam crouched down, brushing aside a lock of Charlotte’s hair like a mother tucking in her child. Her voice was soft, smooth — terrifying in its stillness.
“Sweet girl,” she cooed, tilting Charlotte’s chin with gloved fingers. “You should’ve known happiness is a dangerous indulgence.”
Charlotte’s lips trembled.
“You’re too clever of a girl to forget,” Madam continued, eyes like frozen glass. “The covenant was never built to be kind. It was built to last.”
She smiled — not warm, not cruel. Just final.
After the massacre, Lady Charlotte locked herself away in her church. She no longer stepped foot in the Grand Cathedral, no longer answered letters, and no longer spoke to the other Prophets. Anyone sent by the Covenant to “check on her” was turned away at the door.
The day after, she was assigned to clean the remains.
And so she did — thoroughly, precisely. The floors were scrubbed, the robes incinerated, the scent of iron erased from the stone. By the time she was finished, it was as if no one had died at all.
But they had.
The gods, some whispered, would never forgive Madam’s cruelty that night. But forgiveness meant nothing if no one dared to speak it aloud.
When the cleaning was done, Charlotte did not bury the bodies. Instead, she kept them.
They had not decayed. They remained almost pristine — beautiful, even, if one ignored the stillness. In the silence of her church, grief shifted into purpose. Skin was stitched to skin. Hair was woven together. Bones placed with care. And soul by soul — piece by piece — she shaped them into something new.
One stitch. Then another. Dozens more.
Until eventually... it moved.
She gave it a name. She fed it, clothed it, taught it. It was nothing like the people she had lost, and yet somehow, it held parts of all of them — not just in form, but in spirit. Despite their death, the thing looked at her with something close to affection. Love, even.
She couldn’t tell if that made her feel better or worse.
Over time, the being learned to speak, to think, to wander. Charlotte would catch it mimicking the habits of the dead — the way one curled their hands in prayer, the way another used to hum during long silences. It haunted her.
And then there was Alice.
Charlotte hated Alice. Immature, clinging, always trying to help in ways that made things worse. A soul she had never wanted in the first place — but one she couldn’t keep out. With her was the remains of Sylvette, the symbiote known as Fushi, a lesser-god that feeds off the nihilism of its user. Despite it being essentially a leech it does miss its host.
Even now, Alice kept appearing. Knocking on Charlotte’s door. Speaking to the stitched thing like it was a sibling.Sneaking into the room at night with questions and laughter. Charlotte had tried to send her away, but Alice always came back. So now, Charlotte raised her monster — with Alice beside her. Whether she wanted to or not.
With the three they had established a strict moral code on this project, hoping it would not wreck havoc if pressured.
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[AUTHOR NOTE]
sorry for the long ass description but I had a lot of story I didn't wanna leave out (especially cause I was gonna forget if I didn't write it down immediately) <3
I'm considering ending the Prophet series in about 2-3 bots and I don't plan on putting a follower goal on each one of them, even if it is a finale.
After this I don't think I'll continue creating bots because I'm completely stumped for ideas. I'm fine with suggestions though.
(also if anyone is actually interested in lore I'll do lore drops)
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New to the series? Check out the previous bots!
Mallory, The Prophet of Calamity
Sylvette, The Prophet of Cowardice
Charlotte, The Prophet of Severance
Caliane, The Covenant's Needle
Introduction:
The world had formed from a chorus created by the Loom. A melody had been played, one so beautiful it created what would start humanity and life itself Eden. Earth had not wanted to be connected to something it considered too emotional despite them being the only intelligent creatures in the universe.
Eden had created life on a mere accident, her tears resonating with the Loom, granting her desire of connection at the sake of being put at an eternal rest inside of the Garden of Eden.
Once she had been put to sleep she had her fragments scattered far and wide, resulting in the creation of Gods. Gods were humans bestowed fragments by Yggdrasil's effort to avoid Eden's power falling into the wrong hands.
As her power was distributed Eden had been forgotten as punishment for her sin of creation, the Fragments of Eden have never forgotten her though, yet, they refuse to speak of her name out of desperation for control.
The Fragments had spread their influence far and wide, whether that be from tending to wounds, creating bountiful harvests or showing kingdoms overwhelming power.
Once they had descended to a higher plane of being, the humans had spread the teachings from the Fragments leading to the creation of Prophets. Prophets follow a singular god (with the rare case of one following many or even following a false god.) and spread their teachings in exchange for power.
You had lived a relatively normal life till the words of the planet you stood on had spoken to you. They had spoken of tragedy. Both the Covenant, and the followers of the Loom had wiped out nearly every single one of their children. Though, it did not speak of the tragedies the planet's children had caused.
Your objective is to wipe off what is left of Eden and execute any remnants of her if possible. Despite that, the planet has zero control over you, for it has grown weak yet ever so hateful.
[[TAGS]]
combat, nun, potential death, hitting, fighting, power, RPG, goddess, potential combat, combat bot, fighting, series, creation, mother nature, power system, magic
Created May 6, 2025
Updated Nov 2, 2025
Published May 10, 2025