Tize drifted up into the personal barracks of The Salvation. It was an area of surprising serenity amongst all the chaos around it, but that was due to the sound dampeners. They couldn’t even hear the ship’s weapons firing, though they could somewhat feel the vibrations it caused.
There were currently three occupants in the quarters. The first was Farian, sitting at a desk on standby. Luckily, there were no injured members so far that needed his attention, and ideally they never would, but the war had only just begun.
Phon was the second person, lying on one of the beds with her ribbon around her eyes. Every couple of minutes, she’d vanish for just a moment, appearing seconds later with a medal in her hand. The woman would then toss it in the pile with the rest—that corner of the room having become splattered with blood that flew off the metallic pieces. It seemed she was targeting the highest ranking officials she could find in an attempt to disrupt the various armies’ chain of command. Tize was just happy that she was only bringing back their blood-soaked medals and not their severed heads.
And he ignored the two of them and instead synced with the third Fiend in the room. 『Synchronization Rate: 49%』 The man turned into a long flowing scarf that draped off the back of a troubled Rezin’s neck and coiled around the grown. He immediately got a sense of the boy’s frustration. The Fiend wasn’t feeling as useful as the others.
Up until that point, Rezin had been watching the battle below from a monitor, peering through one of The Salvation’s cameras that was pointed down at the ground. He had been targeting a few soldiers at a time, making them see hallucinations: monsters or Fiends to distract them or make them fire wildly. It was effective on its own, but didn’t have the stopping power of the rest of the group.
【Okay, Rezin. I’ve targeted a group of a few thousand and isolated their biggest insecurities and fears. The rest is up to you.】
The most fiendish words that the innocent boy had ever said crawled out of his mouth, unconsciously. “Waking Nightmare!”
All movement halted immediately from the targeted group, at least in the right direction. Several of them turned around and began to bolt. Many fell to the ground and scrambled around desperately. But most stuck to their courage and fought on. But what they were fighting, neither Rezin or Tize had any clue what horrors they were witnessing.
The soldiers began to attack erratically, gunning each other down, some throwing grenades and killing countless of their comrades. A few went unconscious entirely from the terror, and a small handful even chose to take their own lives to be free from their imaginations. However they met their fate, they all fell in quick succession, only a few survivors left whimpering and fetal on the ground.
After targeting a few more groups in the same manner, it was Rezin who forcefully ended their synchronization. “I…” the boy started to speak, choking on his own words. He curled up into his chair, wrapping his arms around his knees. “I think I need a break.”
Tize put a hand on the boy's shoulder and consoled him. “You’ve already done more than we could task for. Take it at your own pace, and don’t lose yourself in this.” He wanted to stick around a bit longer and ensure that Rezin was alright, but he received a sudden spike in emotions.
It was hard to call it panic or even anxiety, since the two sources were always calm and collected. But at the same time, both Roque and Chorus showed sudden and massively increased cognition of their surroundings, like their brains were working overtime to deal with a crisis.
“Well, it seems we’ve gotten ourselves into quite the sticky situation,” Roque uttered unphased as he huddled next to his friend in their tight hiding spot.
“Yes, it’s quite the conundrum, I’d say,” Chorus agreed, not rather pleased with their cramped quarters either. “And I don’t suppose these lemmings would be partial to a civil conversation or a bit of spectacle.”
The two of them were smooshed together inside of one of Chorus’ dressers. Well, they weren’t inside the mystical clothing storage itself, rather using the dresser was a literal defense. It was certainly one of the oddest shaped pieces of furniture to ever be created. But given its unbreakable nature, it was unbeatable in a defensive pinch. Though it was rather designed to just keep one person safe instead of two.
It was shaped in a half dome, with drawers sticking out in a half dome, almost looking like a turtle shell—rather fitting given their situation. On the other side, the dresser was being hit with relentless gunfire, swarmed by soldiers on all sides. If Chorus removed their protection, neither of their powers would be particularly effective at letting them escape entirely unphased.
“Might I suggest your cottage,” Chorus proposed. “You increased its defenses for today, right? We can walk the dresser right up to the front door and then hunker down—have a drink until this all blows over.”
『Synchronization Rate: 82%』 “Hmm, no need,” Roque immediately felt reassured as he admired his new duds. His suit had been replaced with a newer, much fancier and radiant version. The literal sparkles lit up their otherwise pitch-black hovel. It was lined with thin armor that would now keep him safe from the gunshots barring his head, but the important part of this ensemble was the pen sitting in the breast pocket.
He pulled it out and a contract appeared in front of him. ‘Roque Personson’ he swiftly signed his name. “You may remove our protections at your convenience. I have already ensured our safety… Grand Larceny!”
The dresser was unsummoned back into the void, and Roque stood up tall and proud, grinning at the confused soldiers. They’d all just literally had their guns snatched out of their hands. But stealing them was only the first part of Grand Larceny—essentially what Roque could already do, just on a larger scale. The real trick came with his newly refined control.
Countless contracts unfurled above the scheming man, dotting the sky with legalese pointing in all directions. Every gun that had just been taken slowly slid out of the pieces of parchment, one weapon per sheet of paper. The firearms aimed in every direction, a full battalion at his disposal. And Roque opened fire.
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A torrential rain of bullets poured down from the spire of contracts. Those who had their weapons stolen, along with any within the weapons range, were swiftly mowed down. The guns all fired relentlessly until they all clicked one after another, finally out of ammo. With how Roque’s power worked, they would eventually be reloaded, but that would take longer than he’d like, and they’d outlived their usefulness.
“It will take me some time to condense all these contracts back down to one,” the man informed his partner. “And it seems we’ve made quite a commotion.”
“Indeed,” Chorus smirked and let out a haughty laugh. “It’s troubling that we can never escape the spotlight.” Even though guns were being fired all across the battlefield, that raucous hadn’t gone ignored. Platoons from dozens of different armies had caught wind of what had just happened and were now swarming in the Fiends direction, ready to avenge their fallen comrades.
“You do whatever you need to do, and I’ll take over for now.” Chorus then held out their hand in the pen’s direction. “Care to put on a show with me, Tize?” 『Synchronization Rate: 77%』 The man made the jump over. But since Chorus’ power revolved around quickly changing outfits, there wasn’t a single piece of clothing he could change into reliably. Instead, despite their high sync rate, the man only turned into a simple, plain pocket mirror.
Chorus took a moment to flip it open and admire themself, only to frown when they noticed a bit of their makeup that had been smudged. With that fleeting moment of vanity behind them, the famed actor finally put their full attention on the swarms of soldiers quickly approaching firing distance.
“Ugh, I hate sharing the stage with those so uncouth. This war has been rather drab thus far. Everyone’s taking it much too seriously. Can’t we have a bit of fun? Maybe a bit of naughtiness to shake things up?” Chorus resummoned their wardrobe for only the briefest second before it sunk into the ground, though it was actually sinking out of that dimension. “I look forward to seeing how you all react… Strip Tease!”
For every soldier approaching them, a clone of their wardrobe popped out of the ground and swallowed them whole. Unfortunately even with this boost, only a single person could remain contained indefinitely, so every soldier was spat back out just a second later… but with a bit less than what they started with. They were all stripped naked.
Even Chorus had a hard time remaining their composure and not busting out laughing at the sudden gaggle of nudists. Instead, they returned to their basic instinct and immediately started filming, several of their orbs flying down from their previous positions in the sky to get closeups of the embarrassed group and exposed flesh.
“Just think of the look on Gedring’s face when I hijack their news coverage of this war and plaster these images for all to see. To censor or not to censor, that is the question… and the answer is no. I’d say there’s nothing provocative about this situation, just humans in their natural state. Informative and scientific if anything. Get a good gander children, everything droops when you’re older.”
“Not to interrupt your musings, dear friend,” Roque cut in. “But it seems your tactic is a bit less effective than you desired. Thievius!” The man’s mechanized Racrown popped onto his shoulder and held out the palms of its hands. Shots were fired at the reckless, naked soldiers who were still charging the Fiends—fists high in the air, ready for good ole fashion brawl.
“My, how primitive,” Chorus scowled as they spun, slamming their heel into an assailant's eye. “But I suppose that’s humanity for you. Take away their shame, their advancements, and they’ll revert to their basic instincts.” Neither men nor women of the imposing armies even attempted to cover themselves as they rushed the Fiends, trying to get a good hit or scratch.
“Very well then,” the cause of it all relented. “Gandering upon all your dangling bits and bobs was growing wearisome anyways. I’ll return your effects.” Another wave of wardrobes sprouted and swallowed up the nudists. They were spat back out in uniform, though noticeably missing all of their guns and anything else that could be deemed dangerous or beneficial to their cause.
“Oh, sorry about that,” Chorus suddenly apologized to their enemies. “I didn’t take proper stock when I first took possession of your clothing. My labeling could certainly use some work… So I’ve returned them at random. I will leave it up to you all to organize their distribution back to their proper owners.”
It was impossible to say what army anyone belonged to now. Some had shirts from one country, pants from another, one boot that was too big, another that was way too small. And the redistribution hadn’t been one-to-one or accurate at all. Some had pants on their head instead of helmets, and helmets instead of shoes.
A few with shirts for legs found their sleeves tied together and began tripping over themselves. More than that found their heads trapped in a pair of dirty underwear that was twisted and inescapable. Though a lucky few had all the right pieces in all the right places. But even then, they were horribly sized. A few were even losing circulation from bits that were too tight.
“You know what, I can’t just leave you all like this,” Chorus felt the need to atone for the chaos they’d caused. “At the very least, I can make it all fit better. Tailoring Alteration!” This was a part of their power that they’d actually discovered on their own, outside of any benefit from Tize—though he was currently allowing them to use it on this scale.
Tailoring Alteration let Chorus control the clothing they used to dress others, though the timeframe was limited before they’d lose the ability after someone had been adorned. Each bit of clothing on every single soldier started to tighten and shrink, squeezing into their bodies.
“Oh, terribly sorry everyone,” the tailor apologized, barely able to keep their amusement from slipping out. “I’m still getting used to controlling this power. Bear with me.” Despite their words, they made no effort to correct their actions, and the garments continued to shrink at a hurried pace.
Limbs were squeezed, soldiers were choked, bodies were crushed. The lucky few with worse quality clothing had their seams rip instead of their bodies, though almost none had that happen with every single adornment. And they were just reverted back to their nudist state, though they were now at least partially covered in torn rags. Almost everyone was incapacitated in some way—whether it was their demise or mangled too far beyond being able to fight.
“So what should we do now?” Chorus inquired. “We have so many weapons, and I have countless outfits. Do you think we should open up shop and sell them back to those who remain?”
“At an astonishing markup, yes?” Roque snickered back.
But before they could finalize any plans, an anguished call came out over the comms. “Agh, gahh, I could use some help!” Itsy cried out in pain. “The soldiers is weird as zjik! Only a few of them are trying to shoot me, but I keep… gah-getting stabbed outta nowhere!”
“Help coming your way, Itsy!” Phon assured her. Tize was about to teleport over himself, but he found himself moved while still attached to Chorus—Roque making the jump along with them.
They found Itsy slumped behind her truck and panting, swinging it wildly at any soldier that came too close and to block any shot coming her way. But she was soaked in her own chromatic blood. And just like she’d said, the giantess suddenly reeled in pain as a new wound opened up on the back of her neck, blood spurting everywhere.