Bright Frown Dark Smile Jester’s fine men’s suit was tattered and bloody.
The stains were dark brown and dry from age.
Her customary top hat was nowhere to be seen.
Instead, black hair had gone white and long, crusted with dried blood from open sores on her scalp.
Jester’s hair had been cropped short, like a man’s, the last time Marloes had seen the woman, which was a week ago.
Jester reached for Marloes face.
She willed bullets to shoot out in all directions, but only out to 10 meters. She wasn’t going to friendly fire her allies on the nearby rooftop or anyone else fighting or fleeing the monsters.
Jester blurred and vanished.
The woman had always been one of the fastest.
Marloes leapt across the barrier platforms, firing omnidirectional bursts to keep Jester off her.
She headed north away from her allies.
Jester was too much for them, even when diminished by the parasitic worm in her brain.
She could see it in the movements.
Not nearly as precise and noticeably slower.
Which gave her a chance.
The true Jester would’ve already defeated her.
She reached the last of Endo’s barrier platforms, forcing her to leap down onto a rooftop.
Jester appeared behind her arm outstretched in a throwing motion.
She had seen the trick dozens of times.
The attack would come from the front, so she slipped her head to one side.
A bawking plastic chicken shot out from nothing, whizzing past her ear.
The damn thing would’ve pecked right through her tiara’s magic shield and into her eye.
Sometimes it was hard to see how horrible their abilities truly were when one usually saw them being used on monsters.
Case in point…
Marloes shot bullets from the air surrounding Jester.
The simultaneous cracks of a few dozen shots shattered the relative quiet surrounding them.
Jester blurred, but Marloes felt a handful of shots strike home.
“No, not Jester, not anymore…” she muttered.
The mahou shoujo had died the moment the worm had reached her brain.
All that was left was a prisoner in her own body. Trapped in agony until someone could free her in the only way.
Death.
“You damn worm!” she called as she ran and leapt across the rooftops. “How dare you defile a true hero!”
The monsterpedia said that the worms were sapient and had weak to middling psychic abilities. Mostly, used to confuse their targets, muddling their thoughts.
Odd that she didn’t feel confused or muddled.
Her mind was as clear as it had ever been.
Strange… it was a lot clearer.
The Bountiful Decade had pushed her to work tirelessly to kill monsters and put down spawn zones.
She had reasoned that since she was alone there was no room for anything else in her life. Not even rest.
Perhaps the worm was being forced to give its all to control Jester?
Marloes hoped that was the case.
She didn’t like the idea of Jester being helpless.
“If you’re still in there help me free you!”
Laughter echoed.
Instinct told her that the attack would come from the front and back. High and low.
Two ropes made out of colored handkerchiefs tied together swept out of nowhere.
They didn’t look it but they were nearly as sharp as monofilament wire.
Marloes leapt, twisted, contorting her body horizontal to the ground. She spun, letting the razor-sharp handkerchief ropes pass her harmlessly.
A sudden flash blinded.
A loud pop deafened.
Muscle memory brought her shield up just in time to block the bulk of the colorful confetti she knew had been sprayed in her face.
The high-pitched keening whistle bore its way into her very being.
Her mouth split into a clownish smile as a tiny giggles began to bubble out. Her limbs leadened with the deep depth of despair that would’ve have kept her in bed for days at a time if not for the needs of the people.
And what was her response?
As it always had been and ever will be.
.50 caliber bullets in all directions imbued with explosive fire.
She closed her eyes and mouth, holding her breath.
Her tiara grew hot, though not from the fire.
Its magic shield absorbed the shockwave.
The flames burned parts of her uniform and singed her bared skin. The tips of her hair burned, lighting up like candle wicks.
Confetti turned to ash in a few seconds.
Hot air pulsed against the back of her neck.
Fine hairs tickled her ringing ears.
She dived forward desperately, turning it into an artful handstand.
Her short skirt remained in its place in defiance of gravity. It was a Skill, if perhaps a wasteful one. Neither wind, nor pervert would ever threaten her modesty.
Her long legs split like a dancer’s, generating the spin that had her facing Not-Jester when she landed on her heels.
Hair-like tendrils partially obscured her senior mahou shoujo’s black and white mask.
A green dot appeared on Not-Jester’s forehead, neatly split by the line between black and white.
The worm-ridden mahou shoujo blurred, but it was already too late.
The bullet fired as if from barrel of the gun placed directly against the mask.
Not-Jester reappeared where she had been standing. Her head snapped back.
Marloes shifted the wand of laser pointer.
Crack!
Not-Jester’s left knee flew back.
The green dot appeared on her right knee.
Crack!
Only a glancing blow, as Not-Jester somehow twisted out of the way.
She turned it into a spin, thrusting a torn and tattered black glove with a flourish.
Marloes only just noticed that two fingers were missing while the middle finger was down to the second knuckle. Dark-stained ivory protruded out of encrusted flesh.
Her tiara flared heat around her head as the shield took the attack she had failed to notice.
Not-Jester blurred.
Marloes raised her shield.
The kick landed like an explosion.
She didn’t hear it. The only thing she could was something like a muffled droning mixed with tinny ringing.
Her wrist felt it, bending back with sudden violence.
She felt the pop, heard the crack.
There was something to be said about wearing the shield strapped around the arm rather than in the fist like a much smaller buckler.
It slipped out of a broken hand and wrist, clanging on the rooftop.
She lashed out with a teep, stabbing the stiletto heel through the forest of hair-like tendrils into Not-Jester’s eye.
She had kicked a lot of eyes, man and monster.
It didn’t feel like any of them.
There was no brief resistance before instantly giving way.
Resistance was firm all the way through.
She thanked her choice to go with full-coverage high heels going all the way up to her knees.
The tendrils grasped, poked and prodded in their search for an entrance.
She pulled free before they could succeeded.
Her uniform provided protection similar to bulletproof fabric and steel plate armor combined.
The tendrils could penetrate the former, but not the latter.
She shot a tight-packed spread into Not-Jesters chest, sending her senior flying back across the rooftop and over the ledge.
The higher level woman’s uniform was even stronger.
No blood. No penetration.
Marloes didn’t hesitate, shooting a hail of bullets down after Not-Jester. She fired behind her in a wide spray.
Instinctively, through her class, she knew that a handful had hit.
Not-Jester stood oddly. She canted to one side like that strange tower Marloes had seen a picture of in her mother’s old phone.
The knee was clearly ruined and not healing as quickly as it should’ve been.
Pain was a nonfactor for the worm since it had mastery over its host’s body. It could cut itself off from the signals. It was another matter for the host. They felt everything, yet couldn’t react and act appropriately to alleviate it.
Thus, the real Bright Frown Dark Smile Jester was in agony from being forced to place her weight on her ruined knee. Not to mention all her other injuries.
“Worm. You tortured her to your own detriment. The true Jester wouldn’t have taken more than two seconds to get from the street back to here. Monster, you are slowing down.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. She had to be brave. Jester needed her help. “If you can hear me, senior… I will end your suffering and set you free.”
Marloes was too tired. Her heart and head were heavy and muddled. Her ability failed to activate.
It almost cost her.
Not-Jester crossed the distance in a blink.
Marloes felt two and a half fingers around her throat for a moment before her shield kicked in and bought her another second.
“.50 Caliber Burial Coffin,” she whispered.
Light stung her eyes while she choked on the sudden eruption of cordite.
Her tiara practically burned her head.
Not many shield uses left.
She stumbled back.
Bullets bombarded Not-Jester from all directions.
The worm-ridden mahou shoujo was lost in the bright flashes and smoke.
Marloes readied her wand of laser pointer, keeping her gaze just to the side lest she be blinded.
The bullets left a coffin-shaped afterimage flickering between every barrage.
She couldn’t keep the ability active forever. Ammo and energy were finite.
The smoke lingered around a dark silhouette until the breeze picked up.
Not-Jester still stood.
She swayed on one good leg and one bad leg.
Tattered suit had been shredded beyond recognition. Wet red mixed with dry dark brown.
The body beneath was unrecognizable as such. It was just leaking holes.
She shouldn’t have been able to stand with her muscles and bones destroyed.
The mask had weathered the storm best of all.
Cracks spider-webbed across its surface. The bottom half had been destroyed, cutting a diagonal line from right eye to left cheek that reveal part of her nose and her whole mouth.
The sight would haunt Marloes’ dreams for a long time.
She placed the green dot on the mask.
Pieces broke with each crack until it finally shattered.
One last shot imbued with fire.
Not-Jester’s head exploded like a roman candle.
That was what the monsterpedia had recommended.
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Burn the brain, kill the worm.
She filled the rest of the body with incendiary bullets just to be safe.
There was nothing left of Bright Frown Dark Smile Jester except ashes.
Marloes realized that she had never known the woman’s real name. Had never seen her true face. Even her voice had been altered behind the mask.
A memory flashed.
A young girl with an anti-material rifle almost as tall as she was listened intently to a masked woman in a fine men’s suit and top hat as they chatted atop Tokyo Tower while taking a break from their nightly patrol.
It had been the first conversation to make her realize that the true weapon wasn’t the rifle in her hands. It was her.
Most people couldn’t make the illogical leap.
The familiar chime sounded in her ears, breaking her from her reverie.
Text flashed.
Voice spoke.
The Quest.
She had ignored it earlier when she was too busy running and jumping across the rooftops. She ignored it yet again.
The battle wasn’t over.
She grabbed her broken hand and dislocated wrist.
The touch sent spikes radiating up her arm.
Pain and injury were familiar friends she had first made at the tender age of 11. Hence why she never sent underage fighters away. They were as she had been once.
She popped her wrist back in place.
Her vision erupted into bright stars before going black.
The next thing she saw was the rooftop rapidly approaching.
She caught herself with her good arm at the last moment.
Mahou shoujo healing meant that she just needed to wrap her wrist and hand in tape to immobilize it and she was ready for another fight.
The night sky was filled with flashing light and the sounds of battle.
She leapt away, causing the ashes to swirl in her wake.
----------------------------------------
Super Happy Sparkle.
The name had sounded better when Marloes was young and not alone.
When she fought with a perpetual grin.
She had liked to announce her entrance into battle with a trademarked sign in the sky.
Trademarks were necessary because of the merchandising.
Tokyo had shrunk, but some things hadn’t changed.
Merchandise added Universal Points to one’s account.
The government had officially dropped the Yen, though some gray hairs refused to give it up. They were humored. After all, the economy had no reason to be as it once was. Chang had arrived and they would adapt to it rather than force their old ways to fit the new reality.
Mahou Shoujo Super Happy Sparkle announced her return with a giant smiley face in the night sky.
She held the bullets in the shape just long enough for the flash of light that accompanied their emergence to remain visible, twinkling like distant stars.
It lingered with the gun smoke as the bullets ripped down into the worm-ridden monsters and people.
She mentally included the trogs in the latter category. At least according to the monsterpedia.
Her rain of bullets ripped into an entire street filled with worm-ridden.
She landed on a nearby rooftop for moment to breathe and assess the situation.
Her allies still held the tallest building in the immediate area.
Three floors.
It was high ground, but just over 9 meters wasn’t a lot of distance.
In fact it had been overrun.
Worm-ridden monsters had occupied it.
Shooting guns or using monstrous projectile attacks like sharp spines or caustic vomit.
The standard really.
Her allies had taken to Kekkaishi Endo’s barrier platforms as they fled and fought across a three block area.
They could’ve retreated to a safer position ahead of the enemy’s advancing lines, but that would’ve allowed the worm-ridden to spread out and possibly reach other people to infect, which would be calamitously quick.
The kekkaishi deftly created barriers for himself, Dashing Bandit Celebration and even some of her summoned plushies while dismissing the ones the worm-ridden tried to use.
He would then create vertical barriers below the worm-ridden.
The thin panes were a fraction of a millimeter thick. As sharp as razor blades.
Not many managed to avoid being bisected as they fell.
The faint rainbow hues painted over in red. Thick smears as though the painter had forgotten to thin her paints.
Soldier tanuki plushies fired miniature guns and threw miniature grenades. Some even had miniature flamethrowers.
Ninja tanuki plushies slipped in and out of the shadows, striking with straight-edged blades, throwing weapons of all types, blow darts and powder-filled bags. The sneaky little things used poison on their weapons.
Samurai tanuki plushies fought in formations with miniature spears and bows. When the worm-ridden broke through they drew miniature katana, shedding blood until they were inevitably torn apart. A larger specimen, twice as large as the rest fell last, swinging its two-handed kanabo until it vanished beneath its enemies.
The streets were awash in the carnage of blood and cotton.
The mahou shoujo kept her best summons near her. Seven. Dressed in garish costumes and wielding impossible powers. They were a tribute to the girl’s love of American superhero movies.
It took a few moments for Marloes to locate Shinigami Yuta and the miko-sama.
He flash stepped across the sky. Sometimes using the kekkaishi’s barrier platforms, but mostly using his own ability to essentially jump and stand on air. It wasn’t flight exactly. If he did anything other than stand still he would fall.
The miko clung to his back like a baby monkey to its mother. She had her legs wrapped around his waist and one arm around his neck. The voluminous sleeve of her robes had been turned pink by a single slash near her shoulder. She wielded one of her torimono in her other hand. The suzu attached to the upper half of the arm-length wooden rod tinkled as she waved it in what appeared to be a deliberate pattern.
The chiming of the bells increased intensity in line with her motions.
Down on the street a knot of worm-ridden stopped their pursuit.
The monsters howled, snarled and gnashed their teeth. Claws tore out their own ears as they rolled around as if their hides had been set aflame.
The worm-ridden people reacted differently.
Oh, they also writhed, but something odd happened.
Marloes squinted.
It was hard to see, but she thought for sure that ghostly shapes emerged from the people. From chest or back, these souls or spirits of the true owners grappled with the physical body stolen from them by the damn worms.
Good!
The people deserved a chance to control their fates.
Would that Jester had the same opportunity.
Alas, the mahou shoujo was— had probably been too strong for the young miko to affect.
Yuta took advantage and jumped down.
He had already activated the second release of his katana. This time for a legitimate reason. The blade had grown four-fold in length and width, but not thickness. He flash stepped through the knot, cutting through multiple bodies with each slash.
Dashing Bandit Celebration shouted something at Kekkaishi Endo while gesturing at the scene.
Four barriers appeared, enclosing the sliced, yet still alive worm-ridden in an open-topped box.
The mahou shoujo leapt into the void only for her tanuki plushie in the blue spandex costume with fluttering red cape to seize her by the back of her collar and fly her over the barrier box.
She frantically plunged her hand into one of the bags of holding on her belt and started tossing glass bottles down to shatter and coat the worm-ridden.
Marloes smelled the noxious fumes.
Dashing Bandit Celebration gesticulated wildly.
Her plushie followed her command with two thin beams of red heat from its eyes before flying her back to one of the barrier platforms hanging in midair.
“And that’s how you cook worms!” Dashing Bandit Celebration whooped, pumping her fists like an over-excited and uncoordinated boxer.
Marloes leapt over, putting bullets into the heads of every remaining worm-ridden capable of projectile attacks.
Heads burst into flame.
The remaining worm-ridden began to run away, running into buildings and alleys, slinking into the sewers.
Or rather, they tried.
The miko’s chimes forced the worm-ridden people, human or otherwise to stop and grapple with themselves while slowing the monsters long enough for the kekkaishi to block their way with barriers.
Yuta cut them with his blade or sent windblades.
This time he aimed for the brains.
Marloes hit the ones the others missed.
She hopped over to a platform near Dashing Bandit Celebration.
Far from smiling the other mahou shoujo frowned.
“I freed Jester-sama.”
“Huh? Oh… good…”
“What’s wrong?”
“I read in the monsterpedia that there is a mother worm thing.”
“Not necessarily.”
“Yeah, but there is probably one if the rest of them show even the tiniest bit of strategy and tactics. They sent a strong fighter against you, forcing you to take the fight elsewhere.”
“That is not good tactics. I would’ve went after the weakest members of our group first.”
“Even bad tactics are tactics.”
“So, where is it?”
Dashing Bandit Celebration shrugged. “Sneaking out to where there are more people? Say… Endo-chan, can you ask your military friends if any of them have seen a mother worm. Probably a woman… ish. Definitely gross and bloated. Very dangerous.”
“We’re aware of what it is and no. No sightings so far. The alert would’ve gone out to everyone if there had been,” the boy kekkaishi said.
“Guys,” Yuta alighted on a nearby barrier platform and let the miko-sama down. “I don’t know why, but I’m pretty sure that the thing is back there.” He pointed to the Imperial Palace.
Strangely, Marloes got the same exact feeling.
One echoed by the rest with simple nods.
“How are you for more battle?”
“We should be asking you that, Sparkle-chan,” Dashing Bandit Celebration regarded her with a raised brow.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re hurt,” Miko Hiromi said before bravely hopping over to stand on the same platform.
“I will accept any healing you are capable of giving, but please don’t do so at the expense of your ability to continue battle.”
“You got your ass kicked.” Yuta smirked.
Marloes didn’t have time nor energy to deal with stupid, so she ignored it.
Battered, bruised, burned and broken, in some parts, but not as a whole.
Aside from the opponent that did it to her, it wasn’t an unusual night for her.
It was the price of being a solo fighter.
“How is your mana?” She regarded the boy kekkaishi.
“I am at half mana and I have already consumed my limit of potions. However, I will risk it. I know I must be here… with you.”
“That’s very brave of you, Endo-kun, but I was thinking we need to send you back and report… this stuff.” Dashing Bandit Celebrations waved her hands in vague directions to encompass, well, everything underneath them. A lot of bodies, blood and fires littered the streets and rooftops.
“He can just call it in,” Yuta said.
“I have already reported. I’m ordered to remain attached to you.”
“Fierce kid!” Yuta jabbed the boy in the arm.
“Boys,” Dashing Bandit Celebration rolled her eyes. “Well, our opinions don’t matter anyways, Sparkle-sama is in charge.”
----------------------------------------
Cal had been here once as a tourist.
He couldn’t reconcile the memory with what stood in front of him in the present.
The Imperial Palace had been turned into a place of horrors.
The beauty and grandeur had been covered in gore, like the finely-embroidered curtains draped over the throne. They had been broken and cracked, like the two pillars near the throne.
Echoes of suffering suffused every structure and even the grounds.
Rituals had been carved practically everywhere he looked written in the blood and souls of the people that once occupied the place.
It took a second to process the psychic imprints.
Ghosts of the pasts played out the vile deeds.
Victims and perpetrators needed to be remembered.
The latter scattered, except for one.
Children.
Not a one over the age of 18.
Which meant they had been even younger when they had raised the barrier and perpetuated tortures that were on par with the worst humanity had done throughout its history.
And how did they gain the power to do so at such a young age?
Magical artifacts.
Just like Deon’s party.
Cal poked at their memories only to find blank spaces.
Nothing to reveal who gave it to them.
The when was easy enough to figure out based on where the blank spots were located.
At least six months ago, so well after Deon’s party received theirs from Kerkestis.
Why mask her presence in the memories of these perpetrators when she hadn’t with the previous group of pawns?
She had sworn truthfully, as far as he could tell, that she had not giving any commands on how they were to use the artifacts. She had even acquiesced to a viewing of her memory. He hadn’t detected any subterfuge.
As for that crown of hers?
It only viewed memories. It was incapable of altering them or deleting them outright.
If the eidolon was responsible for this then he was responsible as well.
She had violated nothing in their agreement by handing the artifacts to Deon’s party. She had been truthful in her claim that she had merely wanted to strengthen a group of potentially useful young people. Their actions had been their own. She had even agreed to amend things, allowing him to vet future potential candidates for her generosity.
The eidolon had been earnest, which had made her smug.
He had nothing on her in this case and she had known it.
Whether that was because she had been entirely truthful or she had managed to pull a sack over his face remained to be seen.
One incident could be considered an unfortunate turn of events.
Two started a pattern.
Although, it didn’t fit.
The magic wrought by these group of children was much darker than Deon’s crew.
A reasoning man couldn’t fail to see the evil inherent in the ritual sacrifice of sapients.
Even that of animals had made Cal uneasy in the past. It had been hard to balance the need to respect traditions with his own squeamishness. Ultimately, he had come to the conclusion that he couldn’t decry the practices when said animals would be cooked and eaten afterward. Besides, he didn’t want to be a hypocrite. He ate meat. Loved it. And the way animals were kept and processed by the old food industry had been levels of cruelty above the quick bloodletting of a traditional animal sacrifice.
He pushed the distraction away.
“That’s new.”
Subtle psychic tendrils had led his thoughts to wander.
He recalled Mother Madrigal.
She had been like him.
This one had the feel and flavor of a spell.
Well, he supposed it had been only a matter of time.
He knew from perusing the memories of hundreds of outworld invaders that magic replicating his powers existed. Or perhaps it was the other way around? Much like vampire was a class on his world, but an actual species on others. Granted they called themselves by as many different names as Earthians had for themselves. Nation, coloration, ethnic origin. Vampires, just like his people, fought about those things. Who was a true vampire? What were the desired levels of purity? And the many other dumb, arbitrary things they used to place themselves higher up on the hierarchy.
“Please stop. If I make you stop it might break your brain.”
He hadn’t lied.
Forging connections to an other’s mind was very dangerous.
Connections went both ways.
And one need to be strong and skilled to keep their end of it closed to access by the other.
He put a little pressure on the teen boy’s mind. Light as a feather.
The scream echoed from outside the throne room.
“That’s two-fifths of your number down in seconds. Surrender and I’ll show you mercy even if you don’t deserve it. You’re children. You’ve been manipulated by an evil someone. Surrender and I will help you overcome that influence and maybe you might find a way to atone for all that you’ve inflicted on other people here.”
Metaphorical crickets was the answer he received for the palace was eerily silent.
Outside was a different matter.
JSDF, independents and non-combatants fought as they retreated to shelters where they could face the siege of monsters and outworld invaders from a stronger position.
The collective thoughts of thousands pushed on his psychic walls like a trickle of water from a knotted garden hose.
Terror from the greater majority mixed with fear from those that could fight.
This latter group carried a smaller stream beneath the dominant emotion. Despair and determination warred for control.
He gave the latter a boost.
It wasn’t much since his power was spread out over a wide area and a large number.
He placed greater effort in nudging the scales to the side of his allies during key moments where ultimate victory or defeat would be determined.
Case in point.
Marloes, Super Happy Sparkle, would’ve been a dead young woman had he not placed suggestions in her thoughts several times in her ongoing fight with the worm-ridden Bright Frown Dark Smile Jester.
Existence was not a just one when the woman’s reward for an epic last stand at the doors of the crown princess had been a parasitic worm monster inserted in her brain.
The mahou shoujo had been forced to watch her young charge ritually defiled and murdered from behind dry, wide-open eyes as the worm inside had been acclimating itself to her body.
There was no inherent justice.
One had to make it.
His niece had understood that on an instinctive level at a young age.
Vee’s experiences on another world had shaped her into a woman that knew that truth.
The children weighed two options before them.
Flee and continue to level and grow from the huge gains they made over the two years inside the barrier, counting on the chaos they had unleashed and still had in their back pockets to slow his pursuit.
Or… go for it all.
Cal knew that the Quest they had just received contained a massive haul: millions of Universal Points, an automatic jump to Level 50, multiple attribute points, multiple Skills and/or spells, and multiple magic items. It would propel them to near the peak of the mountain.
They would also get—
What that might’ve been was hidden in the empty holes in their memories.
To complete the greatest Quest the spires had given to date on Earth they just had to accomplish the impossible… defeat the greatest boss in the world.
Him.
“Last chance.”
The silence in the palace stretched out for what felt like eternity.
They answered as their type always did.
With violence.