1

“I guess you're convinced now," Heather said.

"Yes. Can you round them all up? Your army?"

"Of course, I am their princess, after all."

That kind of absolute power sounded more like a queen, but if she wanted to call herself a princess, fine. Why argue about it? Sylvester put a hand to his ear to spread the message.

"I don't have time to explain everything, so listen very carefully," he said, addressing all the agents on the island. Leave alone any Lunar Remnants you encounter, unless they attack you first, obviously. Forget about the target, too, the Lunar Princess. "We have bigger problems. Enemies have appeared in the center of the city through portals. Their goal is to kill us all, humans and Remnants alike. To leave no trace of our beautiful planet. So now we have to unite and fight."

2

"What the hell did he say? Did I hear right?" Cynthia asked, not entirely sure if she was referring to the appearance of new enemies through portals, a science fiction artifact or a fantasy spell, or if what had her so surprised was that of not fighting against the Lunar Princess and her army of monsters.

One or the other, she wouldn't be the only agent to share those feelings.

Right now, all the agents on the island (except Sylvester, of course, who in theory knew what he was doing and had no reason to doubt or worry) would be thinking as one.

3

The message had been longer than expected even though he had skipped, as he clearly stated, any explanation, asking them to trust him blindly simply because of who he was.

He hoped they wouldn't do anything foolish. He hoped he wasn't doing anything foolish.

But while he waited, he would have to lead by example.

Anyway, if he was making a mistake, there was nothing stopping him from turning around and taking care of Heather once the matter of greater importance was currently resolved.

You mean, betray her?

That there's nothing stopping you from sticking a knife in her back, is that what you mean?

He shook his head.

What nonsense, for God's sake.

They took off again. Speaking of nonsense, he got a notification.

Luck: 7 (-3)

Yes. His luck stat had dropped by no less than three levels; good thing it was the only stat that could drop just like that or gathering experience points and leveling up would be a big waste of time. It didn't make his heart sink or anything, he could only think: I figured that one out. In fact, I'm not sure how it's so high still.

The heavily armored giants and the alien creatures (although, in the truest sense of the word, said giants were also alien creatures) had started fighting each other.

They weren't allies.

Of course, they couldn't be, if they were really staking the existence of their universes. If there really could only be one left.

As Heather had said, within the rules of that twisted game they were the only sides with the advantage of not losing anything by cooperating.

He just hoped that would be enough.

Heather landed explosively, forming a crater in the ground and attracting the attention of those fighting. The portals were still vibrating in the air. He hoped not too many more of those bastards would come out of there to say hello, they had their hands full enough with these guys.

Especially if they thought to temporarily join forces against them.

Sylvester didn't land, he stood in mid-air, watching.

-You're in my territory," Heather said, drawing the black crystal sword from her body as usual and tapping the ground with it.

That was the signal, apparently.

Dozens and dozens of Lunar Remnants came out of the trees, out of the darkness or just appeared out of nowhere, rushing towards the enemies.

There was going to be quite some shit going down. Fuck.

He just hoped this planet would still be standing by the time it was all over.

Sylvester's scream joined the hundreds of howls from the Lunar Remnants as he also threw himself into the fray. Who would have told him that he would live long enough to fight side by side with his most hated enemy? That in reality the actual situation was quite a bit more complex than he had ever imagined and in fact they weren't his greatest enemy at all?

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

It was crazy, but at this point he lived and breathed crazy.

He could handle it.

Those giants with weapons even bigger than themselves, rifles of sorts. On the chest of their armor they bore the symbol of what was clearly a phoenix rising from the ashes. They were humanoid, clearly, two arms, two legs, and so on, but they also shared certain cultural ideas. At the very least that bit of mythology.

Curious.

Did they come from a similar world, where humanity had simply developed differently?

In any case he'd send them to hell. And, unlike the phoenix, they would not rise from the ashes. He would make sure of it.

Half a dozen fired in his direction. Most were distracted by the Lunar Remnants that had fallen upon them, surely they believed them to be the greater threat. Big mistake.

Sylvester dodged the fired energy (plasma, were they plasma rifles?) in midair with ease and fell on one of them, cutting off his head?

No.

He would have, but he raised the rifle above his head, using it to block his katana at the last moment. He thought fast and reacted twice as fast. Size wasn't the only advantage he had.

He heard him laugh.

Maybe he was wondering what Sylvester was doing bringing a sword to a gun fight.

He'd show him.

Sylvester pulled the katana back.

Leaving the big guy free reign to sling the rifle over his shoulder and try to shoot him again.

Before that could happen, however, he slid the katana into the barrel of the gun.

The peerless blade reflected the plasma before it could come out. He was going to call it plasma until he had a reason to think otherwise.

As a result, the giant's head disappeared without a trace.

It exploded like a piñata, letting out dark gifts.

Sylvester turned to deal with the rest. Deal with the other giants, too embroiled in their own fights to have saved their companion, and the stranger creatures. He was worried to some extent about getting confused between the Lunar Remnants and the other bizarre, not remotely humanoid alien creatures that had emerged from the other portal.

There was no easy way to tell them apart. He could only safely rule out the monsters that lounged upon the other monsters, the ones that were clearly not on the same side.

That was something. He shook his head.

Sylvester took a step forward.

And he didn't get much further. A black sea. He was swept away like a piece of wood by the current of a black sea that suddenly manifested itself in this place, desecrating even more what was left of this city, which wasn't much but everything was worth preserving.

The pressure was unbearable. It felt like being under the sea too many meters deep. He imagined this was like being down there, unable to see even the light coming from outside. So far from dry land. So far from oxygen and the world of humans.

And he was still managing, albeit barely, to keep his head above the black sea. He didn't want to drown, he didn't want to....

Suddenly he felt fingers on his skin and looked down, with the feeling that his heart had turned into a block of ice.

Hands. Little hands that were trying to drag him to the bottom.

They weren't Remnants or some other kind of monster that had suffered the same fate as he had. He knew it with the first glance. Those small, skeletal hands belonged to the black sea itself.

"Let go of me," he shouted as best he could with barely a breath, spitting out black like an octopus his ink.

He scrambled, trying to shake them off. But they kept pulling at him. Harder and harder, digging into his skin, rubbing against his flesh. Although they looked fragile and skeletal enough to break without knowing they were there, they possessed incredible strength.

If they managed to drag him down there, what would happen?

What would happen other than, obviously, he would eventually drown?

What was it that was crawling, what was sleeping down below, in the depths of that dark sea?

He didn't want to find out, damn it.

Sylvester thrust the katana into the trunk of a tree that came floating up to him. He plunged it hard, almost to the hilt.

His lifeline.

His fucking lifeline.

With his weapon as his only foothold, he dragged his body upwards. Up, up, up, he had to save himself from their clutches, from the darkness of the black sea. Just a little longer.

He looked around briefly, wet hair sticking to his forehead, and laughed seeing that the others were having as hard a time as he was.

That included his allies, except Heather, he couldn't see her anywhere.

But he laughed anyway.

The hands left him alone once he managed to stand up on the tree. Instead they set to work, trying to tear it apart to get his life preserver out of the way and make him dive into those dark bottomless waters (how did he know, how did he know they were bottomless?) again.

Stupid. Sylvester simply took flight.

And soon after he began to fall, spinning. Like a shooting star. No one's fault. He hadn't been hit by an attack. The only thing was that his wings were dirty with the black sea, since its waters had almost covered even his head, and they were too heavy and stiff to fly properly.

That was all.

In short, it was he who had made a mistake, not the hands of death. No, now they had him going where they wanted him to go. Falling headlong. An easy prey.

He tried to fly back, of course.

But he knew he wouldn't be able to. He was acutely aware of what awaited him.

Then Heather arrived, catching him in mid-air and clearing the black goop on his wings.

She had saved his ass.

She had surely saved something more important than his life.

"Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me. This is what it means to be partners."

It was.

It was, but...

He'd never imagined he'd have this with an inhuman creature.

"That thing..."

"That thing that looks like nothing but tentacles?" Sylvester added.

"Yes. If we kill it, the black substance should stop."

"Should?"

"I'm no expert, I just know they're not from around here."

Neither are you, Sylvester thought.

"All right. We have to kill it anyway, whether it works that way or not is another matter."

"Right."

Sylvester used an energy shot. One of his many Skills, not technology. On the list its name literally appeared as [Energy Shot], but it was too unimaginative for his taste, not to mention it barely counted as a name, it was a damn description.

But to get to the point.

The shot hit that tangle of tentacles and apparently did nothing besides piss that thing off.

"Great."

It opened its mouth (which, of course, was full of tentacles instead of teeth) and catapulting itself over the black sea leapt towards them.

Luck: 5 (-2)

"Really great."

Sylvester moved out of the way in time and Heather was also able to dodge. That mass of tentacles fell hard back into the black sea, causing the tide to rise, the waters to churn. He heard people screaming and more trees being ripped from the ground and placed at the mercy of the dark current.

He realized he hadn't dodged. Not really.

He had black spots on one shoulder.

Which morphed into those skeletal hands.

Pulling at him, tugging at his wings.

Until they damaged them enough that they stopped working, and Sylvester fell like a shooting star. This time Heather wouldn't save him.

He knew because he saw her fall with him.

The Defense of Kaleidoscope (1): END