Johnson’s feet hit the ground with a thud, dust kicking up around him as he landed in the midst of the chaos. The Unclean army surged forward like a living wave, their weapons clutched in white-knuckled fists, faces twisted with fury. Though their training was lacking, their raw anger and sheer numbers made them a force to be reckoned with. Fires raged behind them, and the sacred cattle lay slaughtered in the streets. Everyone they came across had to either swear fealty to the upcoming utopia and the destruction of the class system, or die. They carried whatever weapons they could find: guns, spears, pitchforks, etc.
Johnson held out his wing hand and declared “by the authority of the United Provinces of Losan, I order you to stop!”
“Equality or death!” one shouted, waving a bloodied pitchfork.
“You don’t scare us, bird!” another snarled, brandishing a rusty spear.
“To hell with the Provinces!”
Their taunts echoed in the air as they surged closer, the mob undeterred by his authority.
Johnson lowered his wing-hand, heart pounding. His mind raced. “They’re civilians—angry, misguided, but civilians nonetheless. I can’t just kill them.” He breathed in deeply, steeling himself.
“But if they leave me no choice…” he muttered under his breath.
He spread his wing-arms wide, and began to breathe in a certain rhythm. He pulled in Aether from the air, and his wing-arm muscles began to swell. As the Unclean militants drew closer and closer, he began to flap his arms. Razor sharp blasts of wind came from them, tearing up the front lines of the Unclean army, but they continued to press forward. Seeing this, Johnson began to sweat through his feathers.
“This is your last warning!” he shouted at them. They didn’t care, and continued to burn and murder.
“Kill him!” shouted an Unclean, raising his pitchfork. “Kill the filthy Losanian elite who wants to keep us poor! Make an example of him!”
“Oh man… I probably should have gotten some men to come with me… Dammit! I need to protect the civilians from these… other civilians!”
Johnson continued to shoot blasts of razor sharp Aether wind from his wing-arms. Again, the front lines of the Unclean army were torn up (not torn to pieces, but certainly incapacitated), but the lines were quickly filled by more militants, and the force remained undeterred. They pressed forward with intent to murder Johnson and place his ostrich head on a spear.
“Should have listened to Franco…”
He transformed fully into an ostrich and took off into the city at top speed. As he ran through the streets, he witness the carnage wrought by the divisions of the rebel army that had already been through there: corpses of longlegs and cattle, burning buildings (some of which were completely razed), and graffiti bearing the letters “MW”, as well as the gear and wrench. He reached the slums and ducked for cover there, where he ran into Andy and the doctor, holding Roxanne and Carne, respectively.
Andy was shocked. “What’s an ostrich in a suit doing here?!”
Johnson shifted back to his human form.
“Oh, it’s just a fed,” said Andy.
He paused for a second, then remembered he, Roxanne, and Carne had bounties on their heads for being alleged accessories to mass murder. “Wait! What’s a Losanian fed doing here?!”
“I’m here to stop this bloodbath!” Johnson panted, still catching his breath, his eyes darting toward the sounds of battle in the distance.
Andy crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. “And yet, here you are, hiding in the slums with a bunch of wanted criminals. Care to explain that?”
Johnson wiped the sweat from his brow. “Look, my squad’s here to pressure the future king into handing over Shaska and her company. But, uh… I didn’t exactly think the whole plan through when I jumped out of that bird.”
He then recognized the trio from their wanted posters. “Wait a sec, you guys are from Worldwide Smoke!” he exclaimed, still catching his breath.
Andy tried to take off, but the doctor didn’t follow. “Doc, come on! We gotta find another hiding spot!”
“I am not sure how much I want to help you and subsequently be charged for aiding and abetting foreign criminals,” said the doctor.
“Relax, guys,” said Johnson. “I can’t speak for the rest of my men, but my main concern is stopping innocent people from being slaughtered.” He thought for a moment, then said “granted, if Shaska is here, innocent people might get slaughtered anyway. In any case, the bounties the feds issued say you three aren’t particularly dangerous on your own, so I’m not worried about you three.”
Roxanne started to stir in Andy’s arms, and slowly woke up. As she yawned, she took notice of her husband… and Johnson. She bolted out of Andy’s arms.
“Andy! What are the feds doing here?!”
“Relax, Roxie, he said he’s not going to catch us.”
Carne then woke up, and the scene repeated.
“About my bill…” said the doctor. “I really do not want to be caught up with the government of Losan…”
“Ugh, fine,” Andy said, producing all the losas he had on him. The doctor counted it up, and was soon on his way in a huff.
“Well, now what?” asked Carne, holding his bandaged stomach.
“Well, I can’t believe I’m asking wanted criminals this, but will you help me stop those invaders?” Johnson asked.
“We… can’t fight,” Roxanne said sheepishly. “We took out an assassin, but that was mostly dumb luck.”
Johnson gritted his teeth and simply replied “crap.”
A sudden rumble echoed through the slums, followed by a deafening crash that shook the ground beneath their feet. All four of them turned just in time to see the impossible—an entire mountain cleaved in two, its fractured halves sliding apart with a thunderous roar. Seconds later, the colossal chunks of rock were hurled aside as though they were nothing more than pebbles, crashing into the foothills with a force that reverberated through the city.
“That can’t be good,” said Carne.
“We should… We should go look for Shaska. She’ll be able to help,” said Andy. “And I doubt she’d let herself be caught by an ostrich.”
Johnson wasn’t amused by that comment.
<hr>
Samudra moved through the palace halls with slow, deliberate steps, his thoughts consumed by the weight of Ta’Gup’s words. The corridors, once grand and alive with royal activity, now felt hollow—like the very soul of the palace had been drained. The sounds of distant battle echoed faintly, but Samudra’s mind was elsewhere, clouded by doubt and betrayal. As he turned a corner, he found himself face to face with Cazimir, the assassin’s dark figure cutting a sharp contrast against the palace’s gilded walls.
“Good afternoon, prince,” Cazimir greeted, his voice calm, almost bored, as if the chaos around them were nothing more than background noise.
“So, you defeated Schwarz?” Samudra asked.
“Like it was nothing.”
“And you’re not going to attack me too?”
Cazimir brandished his sheathed sword. “I have my orders to take out just the crown prince. What I wanted to know is why you’re not trying to stop me.”
“My broth–Ta’Gup has made it very clear he wants nothing to do with me. So, do what you will,” Samudra said, walking away.
Samudra turned on his heel, starting to walk away. But then it hit him—Schwarz. If Cazimir had left him behind, he was likely bleeding out at that very moment. His heart skipped a beat, and his slow steps quickened, then broke into a sprint. He could feel the weight of urgency pressing down on him, drowning out his brother’s betrayal, as he rushed through the halls until he reached the foyer. The air was thick with the metallic scent of blood, and the silence in the room was deafening.
“Sir Schwarz!” he called out. He ran over and picked over Schwarz’s body. He found a faint heartbeat. “By the gods, he is still alive, if only a little bit…”
Samudra slung Schwarz’s unconscious body over his shoulder, picked up his sword, and left. “Let us go find Sir Carne!”
As he left the palace, he witnessed the mountain being sliced in half and everything that followed.
“That can’t be good,” he said.
<hr>
Lulupo and Ren stumbled into each other at a smoke-filled intersection, both hauling the limp bodies of their fallen foes. The city around them was a warzone—flames licking at buildings, the air heavy with the scent of ash and blood.
“Ren, darling!” Lulupo greeted, his voice breathless but still cheerful. “You look like you’ve had quite the encounter. Here, let me take that.” Without waiting for a response, his hair extended, gently wrapping around Kandar’s body and lifting him with ease.
“He barely touched me,” said Ren, rubbing her bleeding ear. “You, on th’other hand, ‘re covered in blood!”
“Oh, don’t worry about me. It’s nothing I haven’t handled before,” he said with a wink. “Just a few bumps and bruises. A night in a seedy Manha cabaret is much worse.”
The ground trembled as a battalion of Unclean militants charged down the street, their ragtag weapons gleaming in the flickering light of burning buildings. Longlegs fled ahead of them, their terrified screams piercing the night as they sprinted past Lulupo and Ren.
“Oh dear…” Lulupo said as the army charged at them.
“Ya… Ya feel lahk fahtin’ an entahr army?” Ren asked, pulling a grenade off her belt.
“Tell you the truth, I do not…” he replied, clutching his bruised stomach.
“Me neither!” Ren shouted as she pulled the pin on the grenade, chucked it toward the army, and ran. As Lulupo followed her, the grenade exploded behind them with a deafening boom, thick clouds of smoke pouring into the street, choking the air as the militants coughed and stumbled, temporarily blinded.
“What’s your plan, darling?” Lulupo asked as they turned a corner.
“We gotta stop this, somehow, but Worldwahd Smoke ain’t enough to stop an entahr army! There’s only a handful of us that can even faht!”If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.
“Right! Maybe Miss Shaska will know what to do!”
“We don’t really got any other options,” Ren replied. “But where is she even?”
“I don’t know, darling… I guess our best bet is to go to the palace and rendezvous with the prince. Maybe she’ll be there too!”
As they ran toward the palace, they witnessed the mountain being sliced in half, and had to stop and stare.
“That can’t be good,” said Ren, a look of terror on her face..
<hr>
Zinnia walked with a steady, measured pace, her breath still ragged from the fight with Ubitsa, who now lay unconscious behind her. The streets were bathed in chaos—smoke curling into the sky, buildings crumbling, and the terrified cries of civilians echoing through the city like a haunting chorus. In the distance, she saw a wave of desperate people surging toward the palace, their faces etched with fear as they fled from the ravenous Unclean army. They were stopped at the gates by two of the few surviving palace guards, brought in as relief after Cazimir’s rampage.
A young woman, clutching a wailing baby to her chest, pushed her way to the front of the panicked crowd. “Sanctuary! Please, for the love of the gods—give us sanctuary!” she cried, her voice raw with desperation. Behind her, an older man stumbled forward, his clothes torn and his face streaked with soot. “The Unclean—they’re killing everyone! Please, let us in!”
The guards at the gates remained unmoved, their faces hard as stone. Without a word, one of them shoved the woman back into the crowd. “No one gets in!” he shouted. “The palace is in lockdown—we’re under orders to keep it secure. Go back to your homes!”
“There are no homes left!” the woman shouted, but the guard had already turned away.
Zinnia, however, was not paying attention to this, and was transfixed by the Unclean army drawing closer and closer. Meilong hissed in her ear, and Zinnia began to run to the palace.
She, too, was stopped by the guards.
“Go away, foreigner,” said the first guard.
“Sirs,” she began, her voice steady but firm. “These people—they are in danger. You must let them in. The Unclean are almost here!”
The guards exchanged a look, unimpressed. “We know,” one of them said gruffly. “But orders are orders. We can’t let anyone in.”
Zinnia paused, her mind racing for another approach as she stared at the guard. “I know Prince Samudra,” she said, her voice more measured. “I have fought alongside him. He can vouch for me, and if you let me in, I can help protect the palace from–”
“Samudra’s been kicked out of the royal family,” the first guard interrupted, his tone sharp. “We’re not interested in the prince’s acquaintances. You’re wasting your time.”
“Leave. Now,” ordered the second.
Zinnia turned around and pushed her way through the throngs of normal citizens swarming the palace for sanctuary, giving an apology to everyone she pushed. She made her way to the base of the steps leading up to the palace, where she witnessed the mountain being sliced in half and tossed away like trash.
After a moment, Meilong hissed in her ear, and she finally said “that cannot be good” in her native tongue.
<hr>
The rukh birds descended onto the dusty ground of Shahar’s airport, their wings beating against the rising smoke as Franco and the federal agents disembarked with military precision. The air was thick with the acrid stench of burning buildings and ash. Even from the airport, the distant screams and crackling fires of the city’s destruction were unmistakable.
Franco’s shoes hit the ground, and his men gathered swiftly around him, their faces grim beneath the shadow of the unfolding carnage. The third in command (since Johnson was absent) ran forward and saluted. “Sir! What are your orders?”
Franco thought for a moment. Johnson’s words crossed his mind.
“First division, with me! Let’s take down Shaska!” Franco barked. “Second and third divisions—your orders are to stop the rebel army’s advance. Prioritize saving as many civilians as you can!”
The feds snapped to attention, saluting before breaking off into their squads, weapons drawn as they sprinted into the burning city. Franco exhaled sharply, equipping his sword and shield, his mind already racing ahead to the chaos he was about to face. He warped up to the front of the pack with his Aether Flash to serve as the vanguard.
He looked around and saw the damage inflicted by the Unclean army: the burning buildings, the corpses of people and once-sacred cattle, the MW graffiti. He had served in the Losanian army during the Great War, but because the Provinces got involved in the conflict so late, he never saw any active combat, with his combat experience relegated to dealing with gangs and bootleggers back home. Now, Shahar was a warzone, and Franco wasn’t just an agent anymore. He was a soldier again, fighting a battle he never expected to face. His grip tightened around his shield. “Stay focused. One mission at a time,” he thought.
Amid the carnage, Franco spotted a longleg man struggling to his feet, his body bruised and battered from an earlier encounter with the Unclean. Blood trickled down his face, his clothes torn and caked with dirt.
“Sir! You’re injured!” Franco called, rushing over. “Let me help you.”
The longleg blinked up at him, dazed. “Who… who are you?” His gaze fell on Franco’s badge, soldered onto his breastplate above his suit jacket. “The federal government of the United Provinces?”
“We’re federal agents from Losan,” Franco explained, his voice steady. “We came for a different mission, but given the situation, I’ve made it my priority to help stop these rebels.” His words were resolute, his decision final.
The longleg replied with “thank the gods! The Unclean have lost their minds!”
“I… the ‘Unclean’?”
“Mister Losanian, there is no time to explain the politics and culture of Panipuri while Shahar burns and innocent people are being slaughtered! You have to help us!”
Franco’s mind raced, weighing his options as he scanned the burning streets. Civilians were dying, buildings crumbling, and the rebels were gaining ground. His original mission gnawed at him, but there was no room for hesitation.
“New orders!” Franco shouted, turning to his men. “First division, abandon the search! Join the second and third divisions—help push back the invaders and protect the civilians!” His men saluted, their faces reflecting the gravity of the change in plan before they rushed off to join the fray.
The third in command ran forward and saluted. “Franco! Sir! What about Shaska?!”
“Leave her to me,” Franco responded.
The other agent was shocked. “But sir! She leveled an entire city by herself! Are you sure you can take her on by–”
“Follow my orders, officer!”
The agent saluted, and led the rest of the agents away and toward the fighting. Franco glanced down at the longleg, then reached into his pocket, pulling out a crumpled wanted poster of Shaska. The image showed a tall, imposing merwoman, her ever-present cigar hanging from her lips. Beneath her picture were the bold words: WANTED: DEAD OR ALIVE.
“Have you seen her?” Franco asked, holding up the poster for the longleg to see. “Merwoman. Chain smoker. Dangerous.”
The longleg was surprised. “Why… Yes, I did see her. She asked me for directions on how to get to the Smoky Mart on Dhuaan Street,” he said, pointing in the direction. “It’s that way.”
“Thank you, sir,” Franco replied. “Please, find shelter somewhere.”
With a quick, rhythmic breath, he tapped into the Aether around him, launching himself into the air in a series of rapid jumps, each one higher than the last. The cityscape stretched out beneath him, burning and broken, but his focus remained sharp. Shaska was out there, and he wouldn’t stop until he found her.
As he floated over Shahar, his eyes widened as he witnessed the mountain being sliced apart and casually tossed aside.
“That can’t be good,” he muttered.
<hr>
Shaska ran toward the Smoky Mart through the burning city, her breath coming in short, ragged bursts. Notably, the logo was different and no longer an image of her smiling face; instead, it bore the likeness of the new boss, former company vice president, Kalynch, a merwoman whose skin was covered black and white stripes with long, gray hair. The sight made her blood boil.
“That snake… They had their coup ready to go, didn’t they?” Shaska growled as she went inside. The familiar scent of tobacco and smoke hit her like a wave, but the inside felt different now—darker, colder. Longlegs huddled in corners, seeking refuge from the chaos outside, while Smoky Merchants stood guard with pistols and Tommy guns at the ready. She was promptly greeted by three longleg Smoky Merchants pointing handguns at her.
“Oh, it’s the old boss,” said one of them dryly, puffing on his cigar.
“We’ve got orders from corporate to bring you in if you ever set foot in a Smoky Mart again,” said the second.
“Your ‘incident’ back in the Provinces was a PR disaster for the company, even after the board kicked you out,” said the third.
“Didn’t expect a parade,” she said, eyes glinting with danger. Her voice was low, calm, almost taunting. “But you really think you can take me? Even now?”
The Smoky Merchants didn’t flinch. “We do, seeing as you’re all banged up,” the second merchant said, gesturing toward her bleeding wounds. “You look like you barely survived a beating.”
“Listen, I’m not here to shop, I’m here to get your help. I’m sure you all have heard the commotion outside? The literal class war that’s going on?”
“Not our problem,” the first Smoky Merchant said with a shrug, blowing a cloud of smoke. He gestured toward the huddled longlegs, their faces pale and trembling. “These folks are paying us top losa for protection right now. Whatever’s going on outside? None of our business.”
Shaska shook her head. “And? You don’t need to be in business as long as I have to realize that the thousands being slaughtered in the city means fewer customers in the long run compared to the couple dozen you got holed up in here.”
The Smoky Merchants didn’t react and held their guns steady.
“In other words, get off your lazy asses and put your bounty hunting skills to use to save the city!” Shaska ordered.
One of the Smoky Merchants, his face twisted with frustration, pulled the trigger. The gunshot rang out, but Shaska didn’t even flinch. Her hand shot up, catching the speeding bullet between her fingers with effortless precision. She looked at the bullet in her hand, then dropped it to the floor with a soft clink.
The Smoky Merchant''s eyes widened in disbelief. “W-what the hell…”
Shaska cracked her knuckles, her voice calm but laced with danger. “You really think corporate told you everything about me? I’m the strongest merwoman alive. It’s freakish, really.
“Alright, listen, you jerks, here’s the deal: there’s a whole bunch of Unclean raging through the city, killing anyone in sight who isn’t also an Unclean. I’m trying to stop that so thousands of people don’t die.”
“Pfft. Like we’d listen to some crazy scalie broad who killed an entire city,” said the second Smoky Merchant.
“You do know that snake, Kalynch is a scalie broad, too, right?” Shaska asked.
She shook her head again, then said “here’s the plan. You guys aren’t Unclean yourselves, I take it. So, die to them, or die to me.”
The third Smoky Merchant’s eyes widened, but the other two weren’t impressed. They shot at her, but once again, she snatched the bullets out of the air.
“We can do this all day, fellas.”
The three merchants exchanged uneasy glances. The first one let out a long sigh, the bravado draining from his face as he reached for his radio. “We’re gonna need backup.”
Moments later, the rest of the Smoky Mart’s staff appeared—nearly a hundred longlegs, all armed and ready. But even with their numbers, there was a nervous energy in the air, as if they knew the odds were still against them.
Shaska was unperturbed. “Once again, I say, die to them, or die to me.”
“We’ll… Die to them. We’ll try to save Shahar,” said the manager of the store.
“Excellent choice,” Shaska said with a sly smile.
She left the Smoky Mart, and the employees followed her, one by one, leaving only a small skeleton crew behind to protect the civilians in the store. They were greeted by a horde of Unclean brandishing weapons. Shaska reacted by punching the air as hard as she could.
The shockwave ripped through the Aether and water vapor, The Unclean were knocked back like ragdolls, their bodies tumbling across the street as the shockwave ripped through the crowd. Before they could recover, the Smoky Merchants charged in, guns blazing, engaging the disoriented enemy.
As the skirmish between the Smoky Merchants and the Unclean Army ensued, Shaska bore witness to the ground shaking and the mountain in the distance being thrown aside like trash. Her eyes widened like dinner plates.
“That can’t be good,” she muttered.
<hr>
Barabar soared over the Panipuri Kingdom on a giant rukh bird from his base in Baagee. From a cabin on the bird’s back, he witnessed the mountain being sliced in two and tossed aside, shattering in the foothills.
“Excellent… King Balthasar is here. I hope my reactionary nephew is deceased by now.”
He pulled out a gun and pointed it at the pilot of the bird. “Pick up the pace,” he growled. “My benefactor is waiting. You will land in the town square leading up to the palace.”
The pilot was sweating profusely. “Yes, Prince Barabar, sir.”
“The time for revolution is here. I shall secure my spot in the new world order. Heaven on Caldris is upon us.”
<hr>
The red and gold clad soldiers marched over the bedrock where the mountain once stood, with von Ragnar picking up the rear, and his creepy sister right next to him, daintily skipping. They soon stood at what was once the precipice overlooking Shahar, but as von Ragnar had forcefully removed the mountain, nothing stood there anymore. The force marched into the city, with von Ragnar taking note of the destruction.
“Sad. The masses have had their livelihoods stripped away in the pursuit of a higher goal. Alas, it is a necessary sacrifice to make in pursuit of utopia.”
The group came to the town square a short ways from the palace, which was surrounded on one side by the Unclean army, on the other by Losanian federal agents fighting them. In the middle were citizens of Shahar, fleeing for their lives with nowhere to run.
Lulupo, Zinnia, Ren, Andy, Roxanne, Carne, and Johnson all met in the town square with intent to march on the palace and force the gates open, but the arrival of the red and gold clad soldiers caught their attention. The fighting came to an abrupt halt when a Minus World soldier blew a horn, drowning out the thoughts of the combatants. Everyone turned to face the noise. Balthasar von Ragnar took his place at the front of the army.
“Friends! Dear lost sheep! Lend me your ears!” Von Ragnar proclaimed in his deep, booming voice that projected out all over the town square after he focused Aether into his vocal cords. “The time for revolution has come! And a new day will dawn upon the world! Rejoice! As your king has arrived!”
He held up his right arm with his palm facing toward the sky, and his cadre of soldiers quickly followed suit.