I am merely minding my business, just walking leisurely to the throne room only to find The King is getting impatient. How can I tell? A veritable storm of Miasma rushes me like a bull.

Trust me, there is nothing like a blackish-purple flurry of thick strings and wicked-looking whips flying over the fiery, orange-and-yellow crystal halls, unfurling in ugly and cruel fractals to drag my ass all the way to the throne room. It buoys me up in the air in a delicate balancing act, upsetting my stomach thoroughly.

I duck around a few of the younger chandeliers' gnashing, golden teeth, my smile looking decidedly frustrated as I bob up and down.

The storm of Miasma unceremoniously plops me down next to the The King's seat of power.

Oof!

How rude. Very unbefitting of a Princess to be so ruthlessly manhandled.

I swat the cloud for its insolence, before brushing out my dress. It lashes my back in retribution, easily breaking through my skin.

I sniff at it pettily and then a petal of hanging strings grabs my hand to use it punch my own self in the face.

I squint.

You're going to go that far, huh?

I wipe off the phantasmal fluid oozing from the lash it had given me on my back, before waving it threateningly at the whirling storm.

It promptly retreats in fear of the pure despair that coats my fingers.

Yeah. I thought not.

I turn my attention to The King, who is currently making preparations for battle.

He stands taller than any skyscraper I have ever seen in person, in ceremonial armor constructed out weeping, submissive souls. Granted, I believe there are a few Master Builder-Enhanced skyscrapers on our blue marble that rival him for height. It is important to keep in mind though that those are masterpieces taller than the tallest mountains known in our solar system.

The light has literally fled the room, leaving only essence-based senses to allow observation of the activity in the room. Thankfully, my ears and eyes, recently modified as they are, put me head and shoulders above most in the next 300 hundred levels in terms of perception. This includes even those who spec in Perception, though it excludes taking into account certain existences. Still though, I have not exactly foregone the typical human reliance on light. It is still quite disorienting to rely on these Torment senses. It is certainly a learning curve when you don't have the words to describe what hearing magic sounds like. It is like a horrible amalgamation of an impossible register of sound with a forced telepathic link.

The noble (and I don't mean it kindly) Torment's maggot-like fingers trail along in the air, ruthlessly rending an unbelievably powerful spell into existence. The sheer amount of Will he is incorporating is considerable. He rips off a piece of the Magic souls he had forced into his armor and elegantly rams it into the spell.

He shoves the spell into the throne and then unholsters a sword from his back, the slab of metal practically a building itself. With surprising gentleness, he demarcates a circle around the throne, including me in it. Grinding shrieks emit from his cut into the ground, sending my ears bending backward against my head in pain.

He points a finger at me and then at the throne. The message is very clear.

SIT and STAY.

Of course, my lord. I hear you loud and clear.

...pushy bastard.

The amount of concern he has for me is palpable. In fact...

I parse the threads of Miasma, focusing intensely on the whispers it passes to my big Plushy Predator Ears. This concern brings hints of his concept The Brutal King.

My eyes widen upon realization. Hidden in the concern is a promise.

If something ever happens to his treasure, he will subsume himself in brutality.

If the Magical Guardians save me or hurt me... either one, it doesn’t really matter... he will turn himself into a mindless, malevolent maelstrom (gotta have that alliteration in dire circumstances, no?) unbound by any rules and logic other than the intent to destroy as much as he can before he dies.

A chill runs up my spine.

Looks like the choice has been made for me! I get to chill out here!

I settle into my role of Tormented Princess. I need to make sure that he really does keep me safe, and following his storyline is the best idea, as it has been since I got stuck here. Therefore, I should put on a show! HAHAHAHA!

Admittedly, there is a less-serious motive in addition to the all-important motive of saving my life.

I just enjoy terrifying the shit out of people.

While it may not be successful on the jaded, immortal Magical Guardians, I should still stand alone as a terrifying work of art. It’s like modeling for a fashion contest.

Why should I not take the chance to show off? Why not delight in being strange? And enjoy my monstrous self?

I open all of my golden eyes, looking from the shadows under the gaping cuts on my arms. The multiple views in golden haze temporarily disoriented me and I can feel the faint movement from the huge Orbs of Vanity moving under my flesh, swiveling around as they were with glazed stares. I still manage to become quickly reaccustomed to it though.

I laugh to Facet to make a throne next to The King’s. Facet does this with enthusiasm, eagerly violating the law of conservation of mass as they grow, expanding into hundreds of crystal tentacles that form a beautiful eldritch throne. I gingerly sit on the terrifying living statue, squirming crystalline tentacles nuzzling against me everywhere like an octopus with a dog’s mentality.

While I do so, The King summons all of the Anathema in the entire Tormented Zone by making the fabric of space bring them to him like a courtier. My Plushie Predator Ears hear the gravitational waves that compose the space-time's servile muttering, which is certainly a downright novel sensation. Which is why I have the even more novel experience of hearing space-time carry all of the Anathema into this dark space all why speaking to The King with like a sycophant. That certainly is an extreme way to teleport. It is none of the Divines of space-related concepts that he is commanding. He would have to be Divine himself, and be a superior Divine on top of that. Rather, he is “only” commanding a law of physics. It is still a ridiculous show of power, and a reminder of why there is no escape.

Someday I’ll escape though and kill him. I am certain of it. I can say that with utmost confidence.

For now though, I continue my role, improving upon it by adding to my art, with me as the centerpiece.

I remove my bows and bands from restraining my hair back, letting it loose and allowing it to partially obscure my face. I hold out a mirror that The King gave to me yesterday and focus on changing my facial features into a slightly wolfish shape. Cracking noises come from my jaws and skull as I slowly and carefully mold my face into a gorgeously animalistic expression. My own bone cuts me from the inside as it rearranges. Blood leaks behind my skin, before oozing back into the arteries they are supposed to be in. I lock my expression into a wolfish and manic, yet still regal, grin.

I shiver with happiness. I am perfection personified.

Fear me.

It is amazing what Charisma can do, allowing me to express even more than what my undeniably considerable talents had been able to do.

And speaking of Charisma, with so much in the stat and such a natural grasp of it already, I should just be able to brute force a mind-based aura. More specifically, I push all of my misery and despair at being stuck in this hellhole and make it affect the Magical Guardians. That will really accentuate this art piece.

I focus on the well of the energy that I can feel infuse my flesh with each beat of my Fae Heart and focus on exuding it for my target audience. My fellow actor The King should not receive the mental attack. That will distract from his role.

Through the lenses on my eyes, I can see Miasma-infused Charisma radiate off my grey-brown skin, filling the room with despair. Panicked faces formed like whirlpools in the wake of someone’s trailing hand, though they were only visible to me, the creator.

I decide to do something pretty extreme for makeup. I claw two trails in my skin from my tear ducts down my cheeks, blood slowly flowing out of the shallow cuts.

Now I am permanently crying! Isn’t it soooo beautiful!?

It’s nice to cry, even if I have to harm myself to do it. I know for certain that The King would kill me for normal crying. The immense amount of favor I have curried with him will be useless even now for certain actions. My knowledge is affirmed by our prior talks over dinner.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Now, let’s see if I can change my outfit from a casual (if still very elaborate) style to a more ball-gown formal look. The tragedy mask mummified on my neck is obviously the main source of the magic. Being the main symbol on the dress, it makes sense that I should focus my Miasma control on it. I give a general idea to the source of Miasma in it and hopefully, it will make something from the bare bones of my idea.

Hey! Lo and behold, my decision pays off. I am a prodigal royal! I ram my fist against my chest pridefully.

A suitably gothic outfit spins itself into existence, though with a similar color scheme as before.

I look myself over.

Damn! I look hot. It’s really nice to be able rock dresses like this.

My throat closes as I feel The King’s gaze run over me. He reaches over and musses up my hair, my ears getting scritches as well by his maggot-like fingers.

Kill me now.

Granted, I didn’t actually feel the prior emotions because I had selectively wiped my memory for the day. Soulless machine for the win!

He turns back to his vigilance.

You know what? I think that inspired my artistic side.

Acting on my inspiration, I ask Facet to wrap tentacles around my arms and legs like manacles. After all, I am The King’s prisoner, in essence.

It certainly makes a spectacle for the Magical Guardians that will be coming soon, and I feel like it is important to include some commentary on him in my art piece.

Ah.

Perfect timing.

Four Magical Guardians fly in a relatively slow pace. In other words, the top speed of a cheetah. The cheetahs that are still around, anyway. The rest have been poached by elves.

Looks to be the Magical Guardians Sunshine, Mourning Diamond, Fire-Fighter, and uh... I don’t recognize the Pink Magical Guardian.

What I do recognize though is that exactly like Betsie, she is way too much of a noob to do much. She is solely here for the learning experience. I can hear the intense shielding magic wrapped around her that is practically blasting the Essence-sound “PROTECT” right in my ears. I twist a finger in my furry ears, trying to ease the discomfort I feel at the "loud" magic.

I know I would twitch normally seeing someone so close to Betsie, but dang if this repression skill isn’t paying off dividends. I’ll pay the price at some point, but that day is NOT today!

The moment the Magical Guardians enter, they look around for the source of the effect messing with their mind. I am unsurprised. They are too well-trained for my makeshift skill to be seriously effective. My skill hasn’t even been recognized by the System.

That doesn’t mean it isn’t rather horrifying to suddenly feel a deep fascination to see how they should let themselves die and rid the world of their monstrous existence. There is nothing as draining as an incessant temptation to kill themselves in the most miserable way possible because it is what they deserve. Not to mention, the fact that I am actually having an effect on them despite their no-doubt-considerable Will deserves a pat on my back.

Pat-pat. Good on me.

They quickly recognize that the effect is coming from me, turning their heads towards my location with intense looks.

Sheesh! They might as well have a Skill-based gaze attack! They look fierce! If everyone’s looks could kill... well, I would have killed them first in this hypothetical, but at this moment, they could certainly do some damage.

While the three veterans do a good job of restraining their expressions, the Pink cadet looks deeply disturbed. As a sidenote though, I feel like I should qualify the veterans’ control of their expression with “more-or less.” I can still see their disgust and horror at my art piece. To think they would be able to hide it from me is laughable.

The success of seeing all color leave the Pink cadet’s face warms my heart, being from a different species not affecting my enjoyment in the least.

I stare at her specifically and whisper “~Soon you will join me. Hope you won’t leave me like the others.~”

True terror begins to replace the tame variety on her face.

Technically, if she analyzed what I just said, she would have realized that I want her to survive. However, the surface meaning likely made the poor girl, unused as she probably is to Devil court intrigue, ignore any potential messages.

Thus I could delight in the terror that formed from her ignorance.

M.G. Sunshine unfortunately has no intention of letting me continue to frighten the cadet she is taking care of.

The standoff between The King and the Magical Guardians ends as M.G. Sunshine rushes around him to get at me and end the mental effects.

My eyes widen in surprise as she appears right in front of me as if she had teleported. Practically right after she appears, an ball of raw, unstable Magic the size of a house burst into a conflagration capable of demolishing an entire metropolis.

Am I going to die? Is this how I go?

Oh.

How sad...

It didn’t kill me.

The spell The King made earlier saves me. I appreciate his foresight. To say I didn’t expect being attacked would be a lie. It’s fun to tempt fate after all. I appreciate it nonetheless.

My eyes widen further as in retribution, the entirety of the Anathema, in synchrony, use the curse magic written in blood for days on end to blast all four Magical Guardians. They move around in their various particular manners, completely furious that the Magical Guardians would dare attack their Princess.

They really know how to make a monster feel special. Awww. So sweet.

The rivers of rancid dark blood running over the clear crystal lights up like a gunpowder fuse, huge volumes of green sparks burning through the curse runes. Within the circle, the Miasma clears up, subsumed to fuel the signature green aura of curse magic, before it reaches a trigger point. M.G. Fire-Fighter and M.G. Mourning Diamond look briefly surprised, M.G. Sunshine looking cool as a cucumber, and the noob just looking stressed as fuck. They hastily activate ridiculously complex, pre-made arrays that had been orbiting them as the array releases its pent-up magic.

For ten minutes straight, green flames that might as well have been taken straight out of Disney's "Sleeping Beauty," Maleficent-style, liquifies the entire ballroom, only to reveal the Magical Guardians to be unharmed, completely healed by healing magic. It does manage to push them back multiple kilometers from where I am and completely rid them of any backups that they had prepared prior to entering the battle. The advantage cannot be understated. Magical Guardians, given time, can completely resurrect other Magical Guardians. Unfortunately, I am unaware of the limitations of that type of skill.

I still frown internally, though I maintain my manic grin.

Magical Girl Sunshine frowns at the fervor every Miasmic entity shows in protecting me. With casual ease, Magical Girl Sunshine swings her sword down to the tips of her feet, summoning the Sun in miniature. From the intense and barely constrained blaze, she creates many salvos of yellow laser-blasts towards The King. Each are as wide as a house, these massive pure energy blasts numbering in the thousands, giving the illusion of a singular, continuous laser extending towards him.

The most shocking thing is how casual she is. She set off this awe-inspiring arsenal of firepower with a slight move of her hand. She hasn’t even used the powerups that Magical Girls have as part of their classes.

The King twitches one of his finger tentacles equally casually, his massive molars still stuck in his smile, creating a transparent wall easily demarcated by the veritable flood of power crossing the throne universe.

He moves from defense to offense, grinning wider as he launches his body – and keep in mind that his body is still the size of an entire skyscraper. A skyscraper made of flesh and bone is now airborne – bringing his sword of gnashing metal teeth down onto the relatively miniscule M.G. Sunshine.

The explosion from a sword with the length of a multiple-story building going supersonic batters the room, and yet, M.G. Sunshine is untouched. Whether she was just that fast or she had teleported, I don’t know. Regardless, she easily dodged the blow. Like a cartoon, she turned into a flat pane of light, zigzagging around him with Speed.

Sword fighting doesn’t stop after one move though.

With incredible speed of his own, he brings his weapon to bear, deflecting hundreds, thousands of blows from M.G.s Fire-Fighter and Sunshine. He forced space to allow him to reach through multiple dimensions, sending his blade into what seems like impossible directions. He then let loose a slew of blows that left rips in the outfits which represent the Magical Guardians inherent protection.

He slashes offensively in an upward motion, only to get caught on a shining blue shield created by M.G. Mourning Diamond, who dances around this throne world, while crossing more distance than he should technically be crossing with the motions he takes. The King’s crown sent out monsters in retaliation like a volcano turned into a cannon, burying M.G. in a pyroclastic flow of evils. The Torment then swung the sword towards his chest, only for it to emerge behind his back like a shield, blocking the retribution from the Pink noob. All the while, his shackled legs dance around in a ballroom's dance. It is a work of art, where he nimbly flits around and lands punishing blows.

A pulse of Will in the form of his purple Miasma grows into a snowflake-like array, as frosty as his callous personality. A wave of crystal emerges from the world of the Tormented Zone to swamp the Magical Guardians, casting shadow on the floor of the ground of the entire zone, only for M.G. Mourning Diamond to make his return, who had shredded the unstable Anathema into bright fragments of light that littered the floor. The temporary spawns no longer could serve their purpose.

M.G. Mourning Diamond’s short, limp hair starts floating as if he is underwater, and his tear ducts shine with radiant blue energy. Like growing rifts radiating out from a hotspot, fractures grow out from his feet, glowing blue light gleaming from them. The tsunami of precious stone becomes riddled with these cracks before it crumbles before the Magical Guardian’s might.

And yet...

bit by bit...

though The King sustains nasty injuries, he still gains the upper hand. Through turning the Anathema around him into fuel to heal himself and fuel to burn for his attacks, he fights on the level of the Magical Guardians.

After trading more attacks than I could count, he teleports into just the right angle, hovering right where they are unprepared, his chains slowing them down. His aura explodes, demanding that they cower. A meteor of Strength forces his ideal of Submission upon the weak link: the Pink cadet.

Its trajectory is inevitable.

M.G. Mourning Diamond summons as many shields as he can to block it. M.G. Sunshine and Fire-Fighter are in no position to block it.

Their best efforts prevent total annihilation of one of their members, but it is still takes a limb in addition to who knows how many injuries the cadet sustained.

The Pink Magical Guardian gazes helplessly at her arm, her lifeblood gushing onto the ground, unable to comprehend that she just lost a piece of herself. M.G. M.D. panics and he quickly rushes over to her, weaving a simple spell that prevents more blood from escaping.

With a roar of righteous judgement, M.G. Fire-Fighter reaches the conditions for her class powerup. And just like that, all of his progress halts, as she summons something truly terrifying.

In this miniature world, a vast whirlpool of orange and red fire spins into being.

The summon that she has used to punch far above her weight-class.

The bane of all heroes.

Truck-kun, Fire-Truck Shiny Mode.

Once the fierce automobile joins the battle, the war turns in favor of the Magical Guardians.

From my first-class seat of this show, I clap my hands excitedly, straining against my bonds to show how deeply entertained I am by the battle.

The tentacles of Facet writhe in response to my infectious enthusiasm.

How delightful!

Truly top-notch entertainment!

"Hahahahohohoho!" I laugh, mimicking an eager spectator.

HAH! I am on the edge of my seat. If only I could participate...

Is what my face says. I look forward to the next scene of this act.