Marloes sat in the uncomfortable chair, trying not to drum her fingers on the table or pick at the scabs on her arms.
Only about an hour had passed since Mr. Cruces dropped out of the sky with Haruo and two boys.
The man didn’t look like he had come out of a difficult fight going by the blue and gold paint being only smudged and scuffed a bit in a few places.
She had found it weird that the armor looked brand new with the exception of the jagged line running diagonally across the chest like someone or something had peeled it open and they had just pounded it back into place. Instead of doing a proper repair or simply just replacing the chest piece.
What followed was a brief discussion followed by a quick flight to the nearest hospital with all of the injured.
Once there, she had gotten a quick once over from a few healer types. The miko, like Hiromi, judging by the young woman’s red and white robes, but obviously specced differently chanted a prayer while ringing her torimono as a doctor and nurse set the bones in her hand and made sure the ligaments and tendons were in the right places before putting the cast on.
The pain had been a distant, numb thing thanks to their abilities. More importantly she remained awake and alert since they didn’t use traditional anesthetics because Mr. Cruces had invited her to the debriefing for some reason.
She had done one last check on Hiromi and was glad to see that they were reattaching the miko’s hand.
If all the military and government types thought to question her presence none had given voice.
They were a professional bunch. She had judged it so because not a one had even so much as glanced at her uniform’s short skirt or rather her long legs. Neither did their eyes dart to her chest despite how often she crossed and uncrossed her arms due to her general level of physical discomfort as the itching continued unabated and was now joined by shooting pain radiating from hand. The latter almost overrode all the pain signals from the many partially-healed microfractures and bruises across her entire body.
The room was a lot emptier than she had expected.
General Satoru was there with a single aide to take notes.
There were a handful of people from the civilian side of the government.
That was it.
They all listened while Mr. Cruces, still in the fancy high tech armor, talked.
The man kept his words precise and made it clear that he wasn’t going to answer questions.
Which she was thankful for.
Honestly, it had mostly gone over her head. She had paid attention, but was more interested in trying to figure out why she was healing at an accelerated rate even accounting for any residuals from the hospital trip and what she got naturally from her mahou shoujo state.
She hadn’t detected any healing magic emanating from anyone in the room and she hadn’t found any sort of healing ward or aura.
Yet, the physical evidence couldn’t be denied.
The itching was one sign, but the more obvious one was that her scabs were flaking and shrinking before her eyes.
Her ruminations came to a halt when Mr. Cruces reached the section of his briefing that interested her.
Haruo Tezuka was the top guy in Japan when it came to sheer physical might and combat.
The fact that he had been the sole survivor outside of the five kids responsible for the nightmare wasn’t surprising. What surprised her was that he had been beaten by said kids in the first place. Sure, he couldn’t go all out without irradiating everything around him, but she figured with every other person in the Imperial Palace dead he wouldn’t need to hold back. Worst of all, they had somehow controlled him through some kind of magic crown and organ combo?
She almost raised a hand, but then remembered the rules.
Mr. Cruces explained it to her satisfaction anyways.
It was a good thing that he had destroyed it.
The thought of being forced to do things she didn’t want to sent a shiver down her back.
“So, Mr. Tezuka will be fine physically. There are no traces of the circlet in his system. You don’t have to worry about that. He’ll recover quick with a lot of food and exercise. As for his mind… well, that’s a different story. By now you’ve all got a good idea on what happened in there and you’ll find out the rest as you go through your own investigation. As such, Mr. Tezuka will need very good therapists. I know you need him, but give him some time before you ask him to get back out in the field. And when that happens avoid sending him up against anything that might trigger those bad memories. As for immediate care? Keep him in that shielded bunker you’ve got him in. He’ll want to go to his home, so I suggest modifying it to contain radiation. If you can’t then impress upon him that his nightmares could lead to involuntary discharges. I’ll send you a few devices that can absorb it at his lower levels of output.”
“He’s a danger to us,” General Satoru said.
Marloes frowned at the old man.
That sounded like a question.
“PTSD. You should know how to treat that. Don’t take it for granted just because he has great power and you need him. The wrong trigger and you’ll have a literal meltdown on your hands. He’ll sleep for awhile. Maybe a few days, a week. I suggest a familiar face to greet him when that happens. Someone he trusts. Not in person. It could be dangerous to them. Use video.”
Mr. Cruces moved on to the five responsible for the massacre.
As far as Marloes was concerned death was the only just outcome… after a fair trail, of course.
The debrief grew contentious at that point.
The government wanted two things.
Like her, they wanted a quick trial and execution.
Close to a thousand people were tortured and murdered over a two year span in the Imperial Palace.
That had been the hardest thing for Marloes to accept.
Two years inside the barrier. Hours outside.
The other thing the government wanted were the extremely powerful artifacts the five had used to do the deed.
Mr. Cruces pushed for some kind of rehabilitation program for three of the five. It seemed self-serving that he had just the thing. He cited a few successful cases.
The government’s position was simple. The five were Japanese citizens, thus, Japan had jurisdiction over them. Including the items in their possession.
It wasn’t a discussion that could be resolved in an hour.
It dragged on into a second hour.
Marloes had enough of trying not to scratch the shrinking scabs. The lighter patches of skin revealed made it look like she had spots. It bothered her.
She stood abruptly.
“Execute the evil murderers and give those whatevers to people that deserves it and will use it for good. Or to people that’ll use them the best.”
She’d let them interpret what she meant.
“Would that included you, Super Happy Sparkle-sama?”
The government guy was young. Probably only a few years older than her. He had that easy smile of someone that lived an easy life. She couldn’t remember his name. Vaguely remembered him flirting with her at some kind of government thing. Then again, multiple people always tried to flirt with her at the government things she only occasionally attended despite their mandatory nature.
Ha!
Mandatory?
If they were so mandatory why had she only attended about one in every twenty?
She didn’t dignify the man with an answer.
“I have to go now,” she said flatly. “I have to feed the cat.”
She had no cat.
Her neighbor did and there were the strays.
She had cans of tuna.
It was not a lie if she took one and left it outside her small apartment.
“Sure thing, Ms. Kitagawa,” Mr. Cruces said. “Feel free to reach out to me at any time. I’ve already shown you the different ways through the Omninet. I guarantee that communication is secure. There will be no collection of personal data to sell to the corpos. Also, there are no cyber monsters… at this time.”
Mr. Cruces really wanted her to use the Omninet for some reason.
She nodded.
His offer rattled around in her head.
Did she really want to travel?
Her mother’s homeland?
She only knew of it from stories and small pictures and videos on her mother’s ancient phone.
It was Marloes’ most precious possession. She had spent quite a large amount of Universal Points to have people maintain it. Even paid a large monthly fee to keep it in a secure box at the best defended bank in Tokyo.
Would seeing her mother’s home make it better? Or worse?
She weighed her selfish desire against the need of the people.
For the first time in awhile the scales tipped both ways.
“It’ll be easier if you make an account—”
She waved Mr. Cruces off as she hurried out of the room.
Cal cleared his throat, grabbing the room’s attention away from the young woman’s back.
“Listen up, guys. The main reason you can’t just do a quick trial and execution is because we need information that only they have. This entire thing stinks of a small part in a larger plan. The more we know the better we can catch a repeat somewhere else before it starts. Someone or something helped those children pull this thing off. Fed them monsters through the spire to level them up to the top of what we have on Earth in just two years. Sent them allies. Taught them foul rituals. Those circles haven’t fulfilled their true purpose.”
“Which is why they need to be destroyed immediately, unlike what you propose,” General Satoru said.
“You’ve already tried.”
“We just have to try harder,” the government guy said.
“You’ve seen the circles absorb the energy and remain undamaged. Where do you think that energy is going?”
The general’s aide whispered in the old man’s ear.
“I’ve already ordered temporary cessation of our efforts,” General Satoru said. “Preliminary reports are not promising.”
“You might’ve just powered them up a bit more. They’re drawing ambient mana, right?”
“Yes. Again, that information is preliminary. We’re performing tests as we speak,” General Satoru said.
“That’s the safest route. Wall off the entire compound. Mine it, put guns on said walls, aim artillery at it.”
“It is the government’s position that continuity is important. The emperor and the royals provided crucial Skills for the nation. Unity is already fraying,” the government guy said.
“So? Just crown another one. That’s why you keep his sons in different cities. Or go with another relative.”
“We’re not sure, but we think doing that will require the proper ceremonies.”
“Then do them.”
“We did and the crown prince is still a crown prince. We think that the Imperial Palace is necessary. It is the traditional seat of power for the emperor. To become emperor the crown prince must take his proper throne. At least that’s what we think.”
“Well that’s obviously risky. A coronation ceremony is a ritual in itself. Who knows what might be triggered when you add that to whatever mystery mix those hundred ritual circles are all about. Maybe, do it quickly? And then get him out of there before anything bad happens?”
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
“In that event… would you be interested in providing additional security?” The government guy smiled. “We are willing to discuss appropriate compensation.”
“It could be a tempting target for the same people behind this,” General Satoru said.
“That’s not the impression I got. It feels more like when Old America would ship weapons over to the Middle East. Hand out toys and watch the kids fight it out. Swoop in and pocket the benefits after. You know, good old imperialism.”
The government guy didn’t take the bait.
“Many countries have been guilty of the same. We are one of them. But that is not our present and future.”
“Hopefully… alright. Let’s discuss terms. I think you should already have a good idea on what sort of things I’d want. I’ve got one other thing I’d add to the list. It concerns the samurai class. So, what’ll you give me in exchange for helping out with the ceremony?”
----------------------------------------
Southern California, Spring, 2051
Seasons turned.
Which meant the average daily temperature went up about 10 degrees Fahrenheit.
Fahrenheit as God intended because this land once belonged to a God-fearing Christian nation… according to roughly 60% of the nation around the time the spires apocalypse started.
Before that nation was another nation. It had been Catholic then. Less reliable census data.
And before that it belonged to the real natives of the continent. Their make-believe faith system was all about nature and, like, spirits.
Alin hadn’t taken classes that went too deeply into this stuff, but just from looking around he’d have to say that the natives were proved right in the end.
Spirits were real. Nature ones. Evil ones. Good ones. Neutral ones.
There were thunderbirds, skindancers, shapechangers, wendigos and other things straight out of native myths and legends. Hell, the necropolis encounter challenge under San Diego was full of all kinds of spirit-type monsters.
And where were the angels and devils?
Zalthyss didn’t count.
A real angel was, like, twelve wings and burning eyes or a wheel of burning eyes.
His grandmother liked to point out the demons, including the one she had fought in the slaver kingdom.
Nope.
Demon. Not devil.
Everyone had demons.
Catholics had devils aka fallen angels.
He knew. He had read the Bible.
Hell, the Torah had the edge in this regard. There were jinns and ghouls. The latter of which differed from the flesh-eating humanoid monsters in the necropolis and other grave-y zones by being more of a spirit-y monster that could take different shapes to eat people… alright, so they all ate people. And jinns were also spirit-y. He supposed that overlap was natural. That was the way of myths and legends after all.
“You ready?”
The voice in Alin’s ear pulled him from his digression.
His mom was close enough that they didn’t need to use helmet comms and this sector of the battle had fallen silent compared to the others.
Comms worked fine in close, line of sight range since they could transmit directly to each other.
Even with the towers communication from the command center was spottier.
The new monsters were jamming them and they had yet to figure out a counter.
Sonic telepathy.
That’s what his dad had called it.
His dad could’ve shut it down, but they had to devise a method to counter it with magic, technology and both. Something they could package into a reasonably-sized and easy to maintain device so they could share it with other communities.
Three months of training and practice led up to this moment.
He had slowly and steadily progressed in the usage of his power from his dad’s mindscape, to the training center, to low level encounter challenges and spawn zones. He had worked alone until he was a hundred percent confident that it was safe to work with people. The last month had been spent building on that last aspect.
Now, he hoped he was ready for a real test.
Facing stronger monsters in a more chaotic environment.
How to describe the monsters?
It was rather simple.
They had insect body types, but with mammalian skin. Which for some ungodly reason was the same exact color as Earthians from northern climates.
They reminded him of the hairless cats Kat loved.
So… gross.
And that didn’t even cover the worst monster of them all.
The brains that controlled the hive mind and generated the sonic telepathy
Actually… he had to retract that.
The worst aspect of the monster type was that they were sapient to a level that the spires’ autotranslation system worked for them.
“We. Fuck. Your. Mother.”
For the record, Alin didn’t agree with his dad’s reasoning in regards to blocking the shit talk from his mind because that was all it was. The monsters couldn’t read or tamper with their thoughts. They just sent a constant stream of vile shit.
Alin released the gray from within.
Fog billowed out of several openings all over his power armor.
It obeyed his will so it didn’t drift on the whims of the wind. It flowed down the 10 meter high wall and down to the street. It covered the open spaces quickly.
The monster’s curses doubled, tripled.
They had taken cover in the empty neighborhood homes on the other side of the freeway after their ranged types had been taken out with precision shooting and bombardment.
Some, like Primal had been itching to head out there to put them to the torch so to speak, but privilege reared its head and his dad decided it was a good opportunity to test him. He tried not to think about the second part of the test if he did well on this first one.
Every other sector of the defense was already in the process of doing just that.
It was just this section that had to wait on him.
He felt rather self-conscious. He knew what it was like manning a wall during a battle. They were definitely itching to get off duty, out of their gear and into a hot shower. Anyone injured would have that to deal with as well.
The fog moved like a slow-moving flood. He pushed it through cracks into homes and other buildings. He knew everything inside the gray. He saw. He heard. He could even sort of feel things as if he ran his fingers over it. Thankfully, he couldn’t smell or taste things. Touching the monster’s warm skin was bad enough. Too much like people.
“I’ve reached maximum distance.”
He brought up the overhead map and overlaid it in his faceplate.
Just about 300 meters. Enough to cover about half the neighborhood and some portions of the commercial section on the other side of the street running at about a 30 degree angle to the freeway.
He tallied the monsters inside his fog.
“1136 hostiles.”
“Are they reacting?”
“No. They’ve definitely noticed the fog, but don’t seem to feel it’s a threat.”
“Okay. Can you mark target locations?”
“On it.”
Cybernetic thoughts placed red dots on the map with numbers and types affixed.
It was hard to focus on two separate tasks at the same time, but that was what practice was for.
He was sweating by the time he finished and he had taken way too long based on his expectation.
“Do you want to try—?”
For a second there his mom was almost going to call him ‘sweetie’ or ‘baby’ on the battlefield.
It wouldn’t have been the first time and it had always been embarrassing.
All the guys and girls would laugh and poke him about it for days afterward.
He already had too much to worry about without adding the mom tax.
“Yeah. I do. But I’ll go for the brain bug.”
So named because of its over-sized brain visible through the thin skin covering its long, bulbous head.
The monster was also the most dangerous type in combat.
It had a strong, bipedal body with four stabby legs sticking out of the lower part of its thorax and an abdomen with a bony stinger. It had two arms. One was topped by a long, curved length of bone as sharp as a steel sword, while the other had an opening in the tip that shot darts made out of a keratin-like substance. They were meant for soft targets judging by the way they broke into pieces when impacting armor.
Alin would take that any day over the sort of ammunition the Faeran used.
He had seen pictures and video of that Quest.
Nightmare fuel.
These monsters were surprisingly tough because they had a sub dermal layer of chitin under the skin covering their red-blooded muscles in a criss-crossing pattern sort of like chainmail. Much stronger and lighter than iron or steel.
The magus and her team had already made a few prototypes for testing.
He’d never understand how monsters were made.
Were these created with skin over chitin while looking like insects just to trigger people’s uncanny valley ick factor? Or was it because the multiverse was infinite, which meant there were an infinite number of monsters for the spires to use to torment them? Infinity suggested there was nothing out of the realm of possibility.
His mom cleared her throat.
“I’m trying,” he hissed.
He was already tired. Like he was on rep 7 of 10 of three plates on the bench, on his third set.
Over a thousand was too much to really affect. They’d barely feel the drain.
A hundred?
He could take them to their last lap of a 400 meter race.
Ten?
He could take everything, leaving a corpse.
That’d take away his own fatigue. It’d feel good for his body.
Alin gasped.
The brain bug fell over.
Out, but not dead.
He straightened, feeling like he was ready to start that lifting session.
“You okay?” his mom laid a hand on his shoulder.
“I did it. Brain is out of commission.”
“Interference is down.”
He switched back in to the main channel.
Heard the voices.
“Primal, you can commence operation. Weapons free,” his mom said.
They didn’t care about damage to the homes and buildings.
Honestly, they’d rather they could flatten the entire area outside their walls to give the monsters less cover.
The problem was that the spires automatically rebuilt them.
It was frustrating.
Structures that were valuable to them, in their territory required Universal Points for the spires to fix them or they could do it themselves.
Sure they could expand their territory, but that’d cost a lot of points.
They didn’t have enough to purchase and maintain every structure in the Southern California. Dense urban or suburban sprawl. It didn’t make a difference.
Ownership upkeep fees were compounding now.
“You can stay here, ba— Boy.”
“No, Mom. I’m good to fight. It’s the test, right? Fight inside while maintaining it and keeping it from affecting my teammates.”
“Only if you’re sure.”
“I am. I have to be.”
They leapt off the wall to join Primal’s squad.
It wasn’t a fight at all.
They crushed the monsters one house at a time.
Primal blew the house apart, while the rest of them shot the survivors with guns and spells.
The monsters were slow to react.
Alin’s fog muffled their senses.
The brain bug could’ve counteracted that, but it was out cold. It would never wake.
A squad of 10 for over a thousand monsters.
It was a good fight by any metric.
----------------------------------------
“Stand by for announcement.”
…
…
…
Finley Stone, Ghost Sorcerer, Rayna’s Ranger, cast a dome of scintillating magic to separate his team from the undead monsters. That sounded like a distraction at the perfectly wrong time.
“We’ll wait for it to hit, but dismiss it for now. We need to focus on this.”
…
…
…
“Fall back!” Hanna Gozen, the Sword of Freedom, sliced monsters to ribbons with her sword aura even as her fighters retreated back to the wall. The street was clear in seconds. It appeared that their leveling was done for the day.
…
…
…
Sophia Freeman paused her little fire show, a re-enactment of her brother’s long ago exploits in that terrible stadium. It was for the kids. A little warmth and brightness to take away the dreary gloom and chill from the Pacific Northwest’s typical weather. “Remember. It’s only words. They can’t hurt you. Just don’t accept anything if it’s offered. Do you understand, smol humans?”
They nodded dutifully, though she didn’t like the speculative glint in a few of their eyes.
…
…
…
Tlaloc punched a skeletal warlord’s skull right off its shoulders while hurling his obsidian axe through an undead feathered serpent. It was a mockery of Quetzalcoatl. A mockery of the cultures of his ancestors. The stepped pyramid stood out of the dense jungle. It had not been there before the spires. The historians had assured him of that. Although, perhaps it had just been missed? The jungle was dense and he had vague memories that the only people that ventured deeply on a regular basis were poachers and cartels.
Regardless, spires announcements didn’t interest him. Not so with the young people he had been forced to… lead…
“Return to defensive positions, contemptible children. I will keep the monsters at bay while you allow yourselves to be distracted by your greed.”
He fired a bolt of pink-red lighting at his axe, splitting one into many as they illuminated the dark jungle, charring monsters, but sparing the plants and trees.
…
…
…
Holly Foster slashed the throat of a murderer and rapist. Big man wasn’t so big on his knees. The end of the Eagles of Christ or Aquile di Cristo in the local language, arrived with a dying whimper of the last oxygen in the man’s lungs bubbling up with the red.
“No more raping and pillaging for you,” she said in a rasp that came from everywhere and nowhere. “Just Hell.”
Satisfied with a successful expedition she slipped out of the manor and allowed her domain to dissipate.
No levels, but decent Quest rewards.
More importantly, she had followed Cal’s instructions to the letter.
Zero collateral damage.
She had even freed the boys and girls from the cages in the basement.
Iria and her fighters were already moving in to secure the place.
They’d find the freed children and so many dead bastards.
Holly had found her niche and it’d take something truly special to tempt her away from it.
…
…
…
“World Event Announcement.”
“Slashers’ Spree.”
“Compete for rewards.”
“Multiple Quests available. Main Questline restricted to slasher class. Completion of first Quest grants slasher class.”
“Consult Event Page for rules.”
“May the weak grow strong and the strong grow stronger.”