《Momo The Ripper [BOOK 3 STUBBING IN 14 DAYS]》 1 - The Newest Necromage If Momo knew she was going to die today, she would have planned ahead. She would have spent her entire ten dollar bill at the dining hall and splurged on the double deluxe burger. She would have faced one of her greatest fears¡ªordering upfront with the cashier, instead of with her beloved no-contact ordering screen. She would have gone out like a shining light, forever remembered as someone who was completely capable of talking to people. An extrovert. A bewitching, sociable individual. A woman with real generational wealth (read: whatever was left after she spent her ten dollars.) She supposed she would have texted her parents that she loved them, too, if she had any extra time remaining after the inevitable social come-down from speaking to the cashier. She would have even texted her good-for-nothing brother. She would have given him a final piece of sage, sisterly advice: to stop trying to make it as a Soundcloud musician. If only one of them was going to survive college, that remaining soul should at least attempt to be the non-embarrassing child. But alas, she had no forewarning. No blinking screen saying DEADLINE FOR EVERYTHING YOU¡¯VE EVER WANTED TO DO IN LIFE: TODAY. There was simply a regular, unremarkable day, and then there was darkness.
Momo awoke to the sound of her alarm clock, except she didn¡¯t. She assumed that whatever that loud, beating gong was had to be her alarm. But upon waking, she realized that it was just, in fact, that¡ªa loud, beating gong. Her surroundings were pitch black, and smelled of dirt and mold. The surface underneath her was no longer an uncomfortable college-issued mattress, but an arguably more comfortable pile of hay. She momentarily wondered if life would have been better if she had been born as a cow. This living situation seemed quite nice and reasonable. Except she hadn¡¯t been born a cow, so that sucked. She had been born a truly incompetent, demure, entirely average girl. Who apparently was so incompetent, even in her favorite aspect of life¡ªsleeping¡ªthat she had landed herself in a pitch-black cave. By accident. Her first thought was that she must have partied too hard the previous night and blacked out in some alleyway. But then she felt extremely stupid, seeing as the last time she had ¡®partied too hard¡¯ was her seventh birthday. She had ran headfirst into a brick wall while trying out her new scooter. It was a whole thing. Stolen novel; please report. So, the next plausible situations were:
  1. Sleepwalking
  2. Kidnapping
¡°Ah, she stirs,¡± came a voice a few meters away. Well, shit. Kidnapping it was. She immediately scrambled out of her beautiful bed of hay. It was impossible to see in the dark, but she could feel that she was still wearing her pajamas from last night. She was in no noticeable amount of pain, either¡ªso she hadn¡¯t been hit over the head or anything of the sort. Now she was feeling a bit of humiliation, to be kidnapped so easily. She could already see the headlines. Local college girl kidnapped - didn¡¯t even put up a fight or anything. Just walked to dark cave and sat there. Embarrassing. Before she could dwell further, she heard the snap of fingers. Within a moment, the cavern had come alight. And oh, shit¡ªthere were skeletons. Everywhere. The formerly human kind of skeletons. Not the frog ones you dissect in biology class. ¡°How did you sleep?¡± Momo¡¯s eyes snapped in front of her, where a man had seemingly materialized. He looked like he had gotten lost at a fantasy cosplay convention; he wore long, wizardly robes, a cowl, and had eyes like emeralds. He smiled at her calmly. Regardless of how nerdy the man appeared to be, her social anxiety still got the better of her. She tried willing her lips to open, but they remained zipped shut. ¡°Hm, yes, I know, it must be overwhelming,¡± he nodded sympathetically, and turned to one of the skeletons that was strewn across the floor. ¡°[Raise Undead],¡± he commanded. Just like that, the skeleton hovered lazily upwards. Its bones clicked back into place, forming arms, legs, and a proper head. After a few moments of sewing itself back together, it stood, unmoving. Momo felt a shriek building in the back of her throat. That had to be the best Halloween decoration she¡¯d ever seen. Either that, or this man just reanimated a skeleton. The stranger regarded her terrified expression, patting her awkwardly on the arm. ¡°Now come on, I know transitioning between the planes is never fun, but it¡¯s just a skeleton.¡± The¡­ planes? This was some insane dedication to a roleplay. Or whatever it was. Momo was becoming less and less eager to find out. ¡°Minion, please take the new recruit¡¯s belongings,¡± he spoke to the skeleton, which nodded obediently. What belongings? She looked down into the hay and spotted her art notebook. Naturally, she must have fallen asleep drawing. The journal was splayed open, a (bad) watercolor painting of her favorite TV actress drawn across the page. So, two things were now true: 1) someone just witnessed her art (horrifying), and 2) that skeleton was indeed alive, and moving, and¡­ Much to her displeasurement, the skeleton grabbed the journal and began to walk out to the cavern¡¯s entrance. ¡°He will show you out,¡± the cosplaying man said with a slight bow, ¡°I have some matters to attend to¡ªcorpses gaining sentience, rising against us, yada yada¡ªbut I¡¯m sure our paths will cross again soon.¡± He smiled at her again, broadly now, displaying a variety of rotting teeth. ¡°It is a pleasure to meet our newest necromage.¡± 1.2 - Escape Plan Before Momo could speak up, the man had already vanished into a plume of smoke. Now it was just her and the polite, expectant skeleton, staring at her through holed eyes. Figuring that her social anxiety should not apply to the undead, she finally cleared her throat. ¡°Um, hello,¡± she greeted him. He continued staring blankly at her. How helpful. She tried again, ¡°skeleton man, am I dreaming?¡± In place of an answer, a ghostly piece of parchment materialized from nowhere at all, falling conveniently into her hands.
Congratulations! For attempting to communicate with the undead, you have gained a level in the [Necromage Initiate] class. You gained the class skill [Friend of the Dead]! [Friend of the Dead]: You can now instruct first-level undead to do your bidding.
Class skill? Momo felt her head swimming; this was all entirely overwhelming. She had to be lucid dreaming¡ªmixing reality with some sort of video game. Not that she had ever been an avid gamer. She had tried pirating Nintendogs halfway through college, but it only took a few nefarious link clicks before she had Available Women (Single) (Sexy) (Near You) blowing up her browser. She had promptly decided the hobby wasn''t for her. She returned her focus to the skeleton. He couldn''t speak nor move, but she had the eerie sense that he was judging her. ¡°Stop looking at me like that,¡± she frowned. He turned his head 180 degrees at her command. She yelped, not expecting him to actually react. ¡°Nevermind, nevermind, reset!¡± His head snapped back in place. ¡°Ah¡­ okay. Okay,¡± she rubbed her arms, trying to calm herself down. This was fine. She just had to do what her therapist always told her to do - deep, calm breaths. Count to three. Do not roll up into a ball on the ground and assume fetal position. ¡°Can you please show me the way out?¡± she asked, figuring anything would be better than being stuck in this dark cave with her thoughts and a re-animated corpse. He nodded compliantly and guided her out of the small cavern. It turned out that the cave she awoke in was only one of many corridors in a larger cavern system; the labyrinth was winding and maze-like, every corner teeming with bones of the dead. The pair of them walked for what felt like hours, Momo tripping and falling over herself as she treaded the unlit path. A light the width of a tea candle illuminated inside the chest of the skeleton, so she could see only a small halo of her surroundings as she followed behind him. Nearly worse than the bones was the stench. It was too dark to see the source of the smell, but it stunk like dead rat. Half-way to retching, Momo pinched the bridge of her nose as she followed the skeleton''s footsteps. Eventually, they reached a small clearing. Momo knew it had to be a larger room than the rest because their footsteps echoed, and she could no longer use the tight, claustrophobic walls to guide her steps. With a tug of her hand, the skeleton guided her to a wall, and she could feel a rope ladder beneath her fingers. She looked up to see where it ended, but there was no end in sight. It was seemingly an infinite climb. She nearly laughed out loud. Nope. ¡°There is no way I¡¯m climbing that,¡± she informed the skeleton. The skeleton raised a bony eyebrow. ¡°Skeleton, I order you to teleport me outside of this cave so I don¡¯t have to climb this ladder.¡± Look - if this dream abided by no rules of reality, she might as well try. The skeleton stared at her, as if to say are you joking? She frowned and crossed her arms. Without any more instructions in its queue, the skeleton turned towards the ladder and began to climb it. Its joints creaked as it went, disappearing slowly out of view as it climbed higher and higher. ¡°Wait!¡± she yelled, ¡°don¡¯t leave me alone down here!¡± Her begging fell on deaf ears, as the skeleton was already too high up to respond. She huffed, realizing she was out of options. Her stomach had begun to grumble¡ªthe flimsy cheeseburger from yesterday had definitely not contained the sufficient amount of calories to process everything that was happening to her right now. The longer she stood there, the more it felt like she wasn¡¯t going to wake up from this anytime soon. Her morning bowl of Captain Munch was worlds away, and she was stuck here in a sad, dystopian cavern, absent of sugary breakfast cereal. ¡°Fuck it. If I die, I die,¡± she mumbled to herself, and began to climb.
The climb was tiringly long, her entire body aching by the time she reached the top. When she finally reached the last rung of the ladder, she crumpled over the side of the cliff, her body flopping onto hard rock. Everything hurts, she thought, expanding like a starfish on the cold, hard, ground. I give up. Just as she began to doze off, she felt a piece of parchment land onto her skull.
Congratulations! For powering through the long climb from the cavernous abyss, you have gained a level in [Necromage Initiate]. You gained the class skill [Bone Infusion]! If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. [Bone Infusion]: You can heal yourself by sacrificing an undead minion.
She looked up, noticing the placid face of her skeletal companion looking back down at her. ¡°Don¡¯t look at me like that, I haven¡¯t been to the gym in a while,¡± she grumbled, heaving her body up from the floor. Her joints screamed, and she groaned. A while had been an understatement. She had pretty much become 50% mattress. She suddenly mourned the bliss of that wonderful hay pile. ¡°Why not try using that new skill of yours?¡± Momo screamed, the surprise of the sudden voice sending her into a terror. ¡°Oh, my my, I¡¯m sorry,¡± a completely un-sorry voice said, ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to scare you.¡± ¡°It¡¯s¡ªit¡¯s fine,¡± Momo murmured, still too flustered to see correctly. She had nearly fallen back down the cliff in shock, her heart beating into her ears. It seemed that people in this world did not enjoy knocking, or having footsteps, or announcing their presence in general. When Momo¡¯s vision finally recovered, she was greeted by a tall, daunting woman inspecting her from above. The woman was dressed in a luxurious green and black dress, koi fish and serpents embroidered in the trim. With long black hair, pale skin, and a shining, uneven smile that sported two vampiric canines, Momo found herself immediately drawn to her. She was eerily beautiful, like a forest stream bathed in blood. ¡°Minion, help her up,¡± the woman waved her hand at the skeleton, who obediently heaved Momo into a standing position. It did not help the terrible ache pulsing throughout her body. She might have sprained, like, everything. She really needed to work out more. You know, for situations like these. ¡°So, how did you like your quarters?¡± the woman inquired. Quarters? Momo¡¯s jaw nearly dropped out of her skull. Was she implying that those dank caverns were where she was meant to sleep? She knew one thing for certain. She was never going back down that ladder. She quickly remembered herself; it wasn¡¯t as if she¡¯d actually be sleeping here again. This was a dream, or at least a very elaborate kidnapping scheme that involved some weird roleplay. Either way, Momo would be finding a way out. ¡°From your expression, I¡¯m guessing you weren¡¯t impressed,¡± the woman frowned, ¡°but we can¡¯t exactly give every initiate the keys to the kingdom. We have limited space in our sanctuary, and it must be distributed equally among our thirty-five members.¡± Other people lived here? From what Momo could tell, she was the only living creature in that entire dungeon, save the odd little mage from before. If the caves below were like a necromage initiate dormitory, then she was certainly the only living student. ¡°Now, come then,¡± the woman beckoned her with a hand, ¡°you¡¯re already late for your initiation ceremony.¡± Ever the people-pleaser, even among necromancers, Momo followed. She figured this woman was important, and that abiding by what she said would be key to her continued survival. And despite what she occasionally said to her therapist, Momo was suddenly very keen on surviving. The woman led her and Momo¡¯s new skeletal friend towards a large, arched doorway. She pushed it open with ease, revealing a gigantic adjoining room. Momo was blinded by light as she entered¡ªthe darkness of the caverns giving way to a bustling main hall. She was hit with a flurry of sights, sounds and alarming aromas. The main hall was constructed of centuries old stone, bearing the sketches and scribblings of ancient creatures. Decadent gold fixtures adorned the ceiling and the walls; intricately-woven carpets were threaded with green and gold, and splayed over every staircase and floorboard. Everything in the room had a subtly natural element: chandeliers made of bones and lined with pure silver; sinew was upholstered to chairs; crushed bugs became mug coasters; plants were sewn into wicker baskets. In the center of the room was a U-shaped table made of cut stone, and adorned with hundreds of golden bobbles, skulls, worms, and a variety of other oddities. The table was surrounded by chairs, and in those chairs sat men and women, wearing green and yellow cloaks, playing with all sorts of odd instruments. ¡°Everyone,¡± the woman called out, and instantly the room¡¯s incessant hum settled into silence. Heads snapped towards her, eyes wide with attention, ¡°our new initiate has made her way to us, through the dark and foul labyrinth below.¡± Initiate¡ªthat was the word Momo remembered seeing written on the parchment. It was her so-called ¡°class,¡± whatever that was supposed to mean. The various cloaked figures rose from their seats, bowing to her in greeting. Momo found it incredibly embarrassing, her face turning red. She had never had so many eyes on her in her entire life. ¡°Initiate, would you like to introduce yourself?¡± Momo began to sweat. She had never been good at public speaking, but these circumstances added an entire new layer of absolutely not. Still, she had to say something. Everyone was looking at her so intently, so expectantly. As if she were giving some sort of presidential address. Her teeth chattering, she steadied her jaw, and took a deep breath in. ¡°Momo,¡± she announced, voice as light as a whisper. That was it. That was all her brain could conjure. Her own name. She should have left herself to rot in the cavern. ¡°Momo?¡± the woman repeated, eyebrows slightly furrowed, ¡°is that your¡­ name?¡± Momo nodded timidly, willing her head up and down with the last bits of dignity in her body. ¡°Wonderful,¡± she clapped her hands together, unphased. She turned again towards the crowd, ¡°let us welcome Momo, the future of our clan. Let her be the darkest of us, the most cruel, the most twisted and conniving. Let her plans be so sinister, that we all become merely fodder for her undead someday!¡± The mages all stood and applauded, smiling broadly at Momo. Momo stood there, speechless. Did they actually think someone as small and meek as her could really be capable of all of those terrible things? How flattering¡ªand gross. But still, she couldn¡¯t help the small, dimpled smile growing on her face. She had never been described as being ¡®capable¡¯ of anything in her life. Her fourth grade teacher had summarized her as ¡°sleepy and confused¡± on report cards. But these people looked upon her as if she were meant for something great. As if she really did hold the secrets to, erm, being twisted and¡­ kniving? It lit a spark in her, somewhere. A flame as small as a pebble, but a flame nonetheless.
Congratulations! For finally being seen as something other than a ¡°pleasure to have in class,¡± you have gained the skill [Burgeoning Confidence]! [Burgeoning Confidence]: CHA + 3
The parchment knocked her in the eye again, but she didn''t flinch; she was starting to get used to being attacked by these pieces of ghostly paper, and she held it in her hands until it disappeared. Burgeoning confidence¡­ she thought, liking the sound of that already. Reading it, she could feel something come over her¡ªas if maybe she could order at the front of the restaurant now, if she were feeling particularly brave. Maybe this dream wasn¡¯t so bad. It had people who weren¡¯t yelling at her - a rare win. No one was telling her she couldn¡¯t get an extension on her term paper (yes, she had over fifteen grandparents who were all very sick), or dumpster dive into the dining hall rubbish bin. It also happened to have a very cool, beautiful woman in-charge of things. Which totally wasn''t activating anything inside of her. She swallowed, looking up at the woman, who was now off inspecting the work of the other cosplayers. And no one had even tried to kill her yet, despite the entire ¡®we have a lot of dead bodies somewhere in here¡¯ vibe that the place reeked of. Maybe she didn¡¯t want to wake up... quite yet. 2 - Momos Dead Pets After Momo¡¯s empowered speech, the woman-in-charge led her to the central table for some further introductions. ¡°You¡¯re not very talkative, are you?¡± the woman aptly observed, sitting across Momo, ¡°that¡¯s alright. We have plenty of silent people around here.¡± The woman gestured towards the back of the room, where an assortment of skeletons stood, very much dead and soulless. Momo gulped. She urgently wanted to have more commonalities with the living than the undead room decor. ¡°Now then,¡± the woman clapped her hands together, and Momo noted that they looked a bit more like wolverine claws than hands¡ªwith her long, talon-like red nails, ¡°my name is Valerica, High Necromage at this sanctuary of Morgana¡¯s Dawn.¡± Valerica gestured to the statue that sat at the center of the room, directly behind the grand table. It was a statue of a woman wearing a cowl and a nightgown. She was sitting in a koi pond, playing sweetly with the fish¡ªexcept the fish were all bones, and no guts. And the water wasn¡¯t water, but a pool of rancid blood. ¡°That¡¯s her,¡± Valerica said, smiling affectionately at the statue, ¡°our wonderful, blessed deity.¡± She turned back to Momo, and laid her hand over hers. ¡°I picked you myself, from the Other-World,¡± Valerica said, emerald eyes gleaming, ¡°we monitor many possible recruits from the other side. Talented individuals like yourself that are just wasted on earthling pastimes like studying and col-lege.¡± Momo went pale. So this wasn¡¯t a dream? She looked frantically around her. ¡°Now, don¡¯t look so scared, darling,¡± she grinned, ¡°your skills were squandered there! It was a gift from Morgana that the cheeseburger you ate was undercooked, and poisoned your feeble body so rapidly that you died in your sleep.¡± Momo¡¯s shock was replaced by the deepest, most fatal embarrassment she had ever felt. She died from a cheeseburger. She couldn¡¯t even say she died doing what she loved, because she didn¡¯t die eating it. It was for the best that she was no longer on Earth, because she wouldn¡¯t be able to face her parents after dying from something so ridiculous. She was sure that they would haunt her ghostly ass, and not the other way around. ¡°So, I¡¯m dead?¡± Momo said, embarrassment momentarily canceling out her overwhelming social anxiety. ¡°Of course not!¡± Valerica laughed, and any relief Momo had of enjoying eternal peace and quiet vanished, ¡°we simply snagged your little body and tore it violently across the planes. Now you¡¯re being kept alive by a tiny little gerbil running on a wheel inside of your heart.¡± ¡°A¡ªa what? A gerbil?¡± ¡°Kidding,¡± Valerica said, erupting into laughter again, ¡°it¡¯s a rat. The sanctuary isn¡¯t exactly running on gerbil-money. They¡¯re much too expensive.¡± Momo decided not to press further. Her heart felt like it was beating, so she was going to pretend that it was doing that of its own volition, totally normally and without rodent-labor. ¡°Anyways, it¡¯s so nice to hear your voice,¡± Valerica said, squeezing Momo¡¯s hand, ¡°it¡¯s just so adorable. That¡¯s part of why we picked you, see¡ª¡± ¡°Because I¡¯m¡­ adorable?¡± Momo felt very stupid, asking that. ¡°Well, yes! Your meek, inadequate, and unassuming presence is quite the asset. I barely noticed you myself when I came upon you, and you were laying on the ground right in-front of me!¡± Maybe this was a fate worse than death-by-cheeseburger, Momo frowned. ¡°You see, us necromancers have a very¡­ how do I put this,¡± she perched her chin on her hand in thought, ¡°controversial reputation. We do very important work, but most people don¡¯t like to see it that way.¡± I wonder why, Momo thought, remembering Valerica¡¯s introduction speech from earlier. She was pretty sure she mentioned sinister, evil, cruel, and deadly at least six separate times each. ¡°So the people of Alois have taken a liking to killing us,¡± Valerica shrugged nonchalantly, ¡°as soon as they suspect a necromancer in their midst, they run us out of there like dogs, throwing daggers and casting incantations. It¡¯s all very disrespectful. But you, my dear thing, don¡¯t look murderous in the slightest.¡± ¡°I see,¡± Momo whispered, feeling her stomach turn. She had chosen to be an art major in college, and that was about as controversial as she ever wanted to be to the general public. ¡°Great, I¡¯m so glad you understand,¡± Valerica smiled, and Momo felt like that was a grand overstatement, ¡°in that case, I want to get you set up immediately on your first job. We have a very important new client down in Kalendale who is waiting on a crucial shipment. You will deliver it for us seamlessly, I¡¯m sure!¡± Deliver a shipment? Her skin crawled. That seemed like it involved talking to people, and moving long distances. Not to mention that at a place like this, she didn''t even want to wonder what she''d be delivering: corpses, dead rats? As if reading her mind, Valerica chimed in, ¡°don¡¯t worry, everything you¡¯ll be delivering is still alive.¡± Fantastic. That was much worse. Valerica led her over to a supply closet, where two wooden doors hid a menagerie of bugs, worms, birds, and a variety of other small things that should never be locked in a closet. She handed Momo a giant leather bag, and then patted her once on the head. ¡°Good, you¡¯re all set then.¡± Momo looked at her in horror, and whispered, ¡°what exactly am I delivering? And to who? And how? And when?¡± Momo¡¯s other greatest fear¡ªoutside of speaking, and several other greatest fears¡ªwas unclear instructions. ¡°All of it,¡± Valerica said, like duh, ¡°the buyer wants a sampling before he subscribes to our monthly Eating Dead Bugs is Good For You supplement.¡± The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. Momo¡¯s stomach flipped. And she thought her diet was gross. "But aren''t they alive?" she asked, remembering Valerica''s earlier quip. "They won''t be when you get there!" she grinned, "and don¡¯t worry, Phil will help you carry all of it,¡± she assured her. Looking back, Momo wasn¡¯t so sure why she expected Phil to be a person. Or at the very least, something that breathes. After tugging a very full bag of foul-smelling items down a winding staircase, she eventually took a moment to breathe. The bottom of the staircase opened to a back-entrance to the sanctuary. Dragging the goods outside the door, she was greeted by¡ªoh, dear, heavenly God¡ªa whole entire black bear. Well, what used to be a black bear. This black bear looked like it had hibernated for far too long, so long that it lost all of its fur, and skin, and body, and was now just a bunch of loosely tied together bones, and two remaining fuzzy ears. ¡°So you¡¯re Phil, then?¡± she mumbled. The bear responded by rubbing its cheekbones affectionately on her hand. Momo was both horrified and absolutely endeared. But if the townspeople were to see her walking into town with a skeletal bear¡­ Valerica had been very explicit that she had to stay under the radar. To appear as sweet and innocent and as un-necromancer-like as possible, which was rather simple by herself, but made deeply difficult by the presence of a very cute, but totally undead bear. Still, Momo was determined¡ªfor whatever stupid reason¡ªto impress Valerica and get the deed done. Maybe Valerica would reward her with a better sleeping arrangement, at the very least. Her own personal hay bed inside of the sanctuary instead of deep underneath it. She straightened her back, filled with conviction. A nice nap in that hay pile, that was motivation enough. Momo opened the pouch that Valerica gave her, theorizing that there might be something of use in there. The pouch included a few pieces of parchment¡ªa map of the surrounding area, instructions on how to get to Kalendale, and the name and address of the customer¡ªand a curious necklace. She took the necklace in her hand and examined it. Unsurprisingly, it was made mostly of bone, with a tiny, skeletal hand holding a red ruby at the center. It was rather pretty, and Momo suddenly had the urge to wear it. She strung it around her neck, paying no mind to possible consequences.
? You have equipped a [Skeletal Necklace of Transfiguration (LVL 2)]. ? This necklace, constructed of squirrel bone, is blessed by the goddess Morgana. It allows you to cast [Disguise] on low-level undead creatures in order to hide their true identity.
Ah. How useful! Valerica was a clever one. Momo smiled dopily, thinking about her. After a second, she snapped out of it, reminding herself that the woman was actually an evil necromancer who kept worms in her closet¡ªnot some hot college professor. Getting back to the task at hand, she pointed at the bear, and thought very hard about what it would look like as a regular bear. She imagined lots of fur, a pretty little pelt. She waved her hand around, and expected magic to flow out of it, like she¡¯d seen in all of those BC Comics movies. The bear merely squinted at her, looking confused. ¡°Damn it,¡± she grumbled, cursing her useless hand, ¡°how do I use this thing?¡± She remembered the cosplaying man from earlier¡ªwho she supposed was never cosplaying, but just an actual, real life necromancer, wonderful¡ªand how he had caused the skeleton to assemble itself from off of the floor. ¡°Ah, erm, [disguise]?¡± she said, as if she were asking the bear a question. With nothing more than a subtle ¡®pop!¡¯ sound, a full pelt of fur dropped from the sky and landed on the bear, covering him like a rug. The fur inched around his body as if sentient, crawling around all his skeletal features. It was very disturbing. But she had to admit, the result was rather convincing. If Momo were to look at him, she would think yes, that is a bear. Quite so. A bear that breathes and eats and other normal bear things. This whole necromancer thing was already rotting her brain. Wonderful. But holy shit¡ªshe just casted something! She just used a¡­ spell, or whatever. She had never felt this powerful in her life. The only similar sensation she had ever experienced was when she drew¡ªthe act of pulling shapes and forms out of imagination, it felt like its own supernatural event. To be fair, the shapes and forms usually looked a lot like Halle Berry. But still. Supernatural. The now bear-shaped bear mewled at her, stomping its paws. It seemed annoyed at having to carry all of this new fur. Being a lean, mean, skele-bear machine had to be way more aerodynamic. ¡°Sorry little guy,¡± Momo apologized, ¡°but I¡¯m going to need more of your help with the rest of it, too,¡± she emphasized the giant bag of dead things on the ground beside her. The bear huffed, but complied. He picked up the bag with his teeth, showing off his skeletal incisors. ¡°Good boy,¡± Momo smiled softly, rubbing the top of his now-furry head. It reminded her of her childhood cat, Luna. She had been devastated when she had to leave Luna at home when she went off to college; it took her months to recover, demanding that her Mom let her Facetime the cat for hours at a time. They even tried attaching a tiny GoPro to her head, but that quickly turned into a $200 scratching post. Nevertheless, the feel of warm fur transported Momo to a happier, safer place: in bed with her cat on a cold winter day, laptop in her lap, not a worry in the world except what streaming service to pick.
Congrats! For befriending and successfully disguising an undead creature, you have gained a level in [Necromage Initiate]. +3 INT
Her brain got all tingly. It was as if someone had gone in there and installed a new iOS update. Holding the parchment in her hand, she read the word¡ªINT¡ªhad she gained¡­ interest points? Interview points? She briefly imagined herself taking a career as a journalist, and her skin crawled. Necromancy was far more tolerable than talking to strangers. Right, yes, necromancy. Necromaging¡ªor however Valerica put it. Pulling out the map from her satchel, she studied it and peeked over the horizon. The back-entrance she had exited through was situated in a dark corner of the woods, with several dirt trails leading out in various directions. Looking behind her, there was a large, looming tower¡ªshe guessed that was part of the sanctuary she had just emerged from. The rest of the building was obfuscated by trees, but she could make out pieces of its cobblestone exterior. It wasn¡¯t the prettiest of places, but it was¡­ cozy, she supposed. The bear, sorry, um, Phil, seemed to have walked over from the nearby stablehouse. While the original building was obviously built for horses, it had been converted to fit creatures of many sizes and shapes, with door-holes cut out in unnatural forms that sent a shiver down Momo¡¯s back. Maybe an undead bear was not so bad. She could have been sent a companionable undead octopus to carry her wares. She gritted her teeth. She hated octopuses. Why did they insist on having so many legs? Remembering her quest, and specifically Valerica¡¯s belief in her, she closed her eyes and inhaled. She could do this. If for no other reason than to avoid returning to the world in which she had at least three upcoming math exams, she would complete this delivery. She gave Phil another pat on the head, and they ventured off. 3 - The Wizard of Kalendale Phil¡¯s fur was falling off. They were three quarters of the way to Kalendale, a town whose motto was EAT WELL, WORK HARD, AND DESTROY ALL NECROMANCERS, a fact which Momo discovered while searching for directions, only to find the inviting slogan plastered on the local regional map. ¡°No, no, Phil, stop it,¡± she said, frantically picking up the clumps of fur as Phil scratched them off with his back paw, ¡°I can¡¯t be killed on my first assignment, what will Valerica think?¡± He ignored her, continuing to scratch his backside. Half of his bony butt poked out, skeletally mooning half the road behind them. Momo was halfway to pulling out her own hair. ¡°Okay, okay,¡± she pressed at her face, calming herself down, ¡°this is fine. I just cast the thingy again. [Disguise].¡±
[Disguise] has a cooldown of 2 hours. You can cast it again in 32 minutes.
Momo¡¯s hands slid off her face as she groaned. Cooldown?! She was plenty cold already, thank you, useless piece of parchment paper. It had been summer when she fell asleep last night on Earth, and now she was terribly underdressed in a t-shirt in the brisk fall weather of Alois. ¡°I can¡¯t risk you ruining my first errand, Phil,¡± she shook her head, frowning at the clueless and soulless bear, ¡°I¡¯m going to need to store you somewhere.¡± She surveyed the area. They had finally broken free from the endless forest, and through the fog she could see the silhouette of a small village forming ahead of them. The village was located in a valley just below her, barricaded by snow-tipped mountains. It was like something out of a fairytale, Momo thought. Like those medieval paintings she had studied in university, with the endless grassy fields and the quaint wooden houses. Still, it was no place for a Phil, who would cast immediate suspicion the moment his bony hide entered the city. She turned her head east, and found a small clearing. It was brimming with flowers in full bloom¡ªplenty of visual noise to masquerade the bony bear. She turned towards her companion, ¡°Phil, go lay in that field, and don¡¯t move a muscle until I¡¯m back, alright?¡± Phil blinked at her. He didn¡¯t seem keen on moving anywhere. ¡°Agh, aren¡¯t you supposed to listen to me?¡± Momo whined, ¡°didn¡¯t I have a skill in this?¡± Phil seemed unfazed. Momo huffed. She didn¡¯t want to be late for the drop-off. ¡°Okay, Phil, you diva,¡± she frowned, ¡°walk around as you please. But I¡¯m not responsible if they make you deader than you already are, or whatever.¡± Crossing her arms indignantly, Phil simply walked up to her and licked her arm with an unnerving, dead-muscle tongue. It felt a bit bristly, like the tongue of a cat. ¡°Acting cute isn¡¯t going to win you any points,¡± she said (lying, as she already knew she¡¯d cry if anything happened to him) and tugged the leather bag from Phil¡¯s mouth. She¡¯d have to carry it the rest of the way. Phil gave the bag away easily and it flopped onto the ground, several now-dead bugs slipping out of it. Momo frantically picked them up, shoving them back in before the sensation nauseated her. The feeling of their prickly legs on her fingers was nearly enough to make her wish she had never been born. If necromancy had subspecialities, she was sure as hell not picking the one that involved bugs. She figured she¡¯d be better suited for undead-bear caretaker, or spell sheet organizer. Something quiet and pleasant and far removed from all things nasty. She re-tied the knot at the top of the bag, making sure the insides were as hidden as possible from prying eyes. Using all the strength in her tiny body, she heaved the pouch over her shoulders and headed down the dirt road towards Kalendale. She was thankful in a way for the workout, as it prevented frostbite from taking her fingers, with the chilly fall air clawing at her limbs. She wondered, briefly and stupidly, if Kalendale sold any hoodies. It had a cute enough name; she wouldn¡¯t mind wearing a Kalendale branded pullover. Not to mention that anything was better than her university¡¯s merchandise¡ªtheir logo was a drawing of a mole rat wearing sunglasses. Out of breath, she stopped her trek once she reached the town center. The town smelled of grilled game meats, of salts and beef stews. She was surrounded by a variety of market stalls, each selling their own variation of hung venison and home-brewed beer. Momo had never been a big meat eater, but she felt the sudden urge to make an exception, inhaling the overwhelming aroma. It probably also had quite a bit to do with smelling something other than dead rats, bugs, or rancid blood for the first time in hours. She was pretty sure anything would taste good right now, as long as it wasn¡¯t still alive. She sighed, her stomach rumbling. It wasn¡¯t like she had any money to buy a meal with. Valerica hadn¡¯t included any cash in her pouch. Going by her speech about the gerbil, it seemed that the sanctuary had hit hard times as far as funding. Money wasn¡¯t to be parted with so easily. ¡°Gods, ye smell terrible.¡± Momo let out a squeak, turning her head behind her to find a large, beer-bellied man towering over her. He had plump cheeks, round like apples, and an aged, wrinkly face. He was carrying a cutting board and a piece of venison, tied with rope and prepared for cooking. ¡°I¡ªI¡¯m sorry,¡± she automatically apologized. She was sure he was right. The bag reeked, and she had been carrying it for hours. He lowered his head, sniffing in her general vicinity. ¡°Aagh,¡± he threw his head back, instantly repulsed, ¡°when was the last time ye bathed?¡± ¡°Oh, um¡­¡± she trailed off. That was unfortunately a valid question, even previous to her life in this world. ¡°Bertha!¡± the man cried out, waving his free hand in the air, ¡°this one needs bathing.¡± He turned to Momo, ¡°do ye have any coin? Bertha runs the bathhouse.¡± Momo went pale. A bathhouse? If the medieval paintings had been correct, that would likely involve a lot of being naked around other people in a barely hygienic tub of shared water. If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. She hoped desperately that Necromage Initiate came with an eventual invisibility skill. ¡°Ah, nope, no coin. I¡¯m fine, t¨Cthank you,¡± Momo said, raising her voice by an octave, ¡°I¡¯ll be on my way.¡± A woman who could only be Bertha approached her, and with one sniff, she was sent into an immediate coughing fit. ¡°Oh Gods, yer right John,¡± she groaned, ¡°this one is absolutely foul!¡± Momo grimaced. Was this how the locals treated all of their visitors? She apologized again, profusely, and then quickly jogged away. She walked until she was on the outskirts of the village, and sat under the shade of one of the town¡¯s ginormous oak trees. ¡°I can¡¯t possibly smell that bad¡­¡± Momo muttered under her breath, hoping that smelling like death was not a permanent hazard of the profession. She pulled out the pieces of parchment from her pouch, searching for the client¡¯s address. She wanted to get out of this village as quickly as possible, before they convicted her of Crime By Smell or something else ridiculous. Viktor Mole, Great Wizard of Kalendale 24 Kalendale Way She remembered that street address. The marketplace square bisected the city into two: one half peeled off into a residential area, and the other¡ªreachable by Kalendale Way¡ªled to the city¡¯s university. She grinned. Maybe they sold hoodies! She grabbed her bag and snuck around the town market, steering clear of John¡¯s venison stand. She proceeded to Kalendale Way and counted the street numbers of the residences until she landed on 24¡ªan audacious, boastful residence, quadruple the size of all the other blocks of university housing. It advertised several ¡°wizarding services¡± on various lawn signs, and sentient garden gnomes danced behind the house¡¯s white picket fence. The owner of this house¡­ wanted to eat bugs? Never judge the customer, Momo shrugged, and knocked twice on the house¡¯s doorway. Momo heard a powerful rustling coming from inside the house, and seconds later she was greeted by a tiny, wizardly man with a long white beard. He was the most classical looking wizard to ever wizard. He had the drooping, long-tipped cap and everything. It was delightful. ¡°The esteemed Viktor Mole, Great Wizard of Kalendale, part-time lecturer at the Kalendale College for Wizardry, and Famed Solver of Problems, at your service, my lady,¡± he said, puffing out his tiny chest and raising a fist to the sky. Momo couldn¡¯t help but grin at him and his little slogan. He looked very much like one of the archetypes from her Depictions of High Fantasy classes in college. A real storybook character, come to life. It was all incredibly endearing. Then she remembered he was, in fact, a real man. Who had ordered dead bugs. That deflated her slightly. ¡°I have a delivery from Morgana¡¯s Dawn,¡± she informed him, slugging the bag to the front of her. His eyebrows shot up at the mention of the sanctuary, and he hastily shushed her. ¡°Not so loud!¡± he shouted, which drew more attention from passersby than anything else, ¡°you are from the Dawn? I¡¯d never take you for a necromancer.¡± ¡°I think they prefer the word necromage,¡± she whispered meekly. ¡°Necromage shmecromage,¡± he waved his hand in the air, ¡°they¡¯re a bunch of dirty, conniving liars, that¡¯s what they are. They think they can move into that old sanctuary and encroach on my business?¡± Momo¡¯s eyebrows shot up, ¡°your business?¡± ¡°Of course! No one sells the dead like I sell the dead!¡± he declared proudly, ¡°it¡¯s all very hush hush, naturally, as no one wants anybody else to know they sold their deceased aunt for a couple a¡¯ extra gold pieces, but sell her they do! And willingly!¡± ¡°I thought this town hated necromancers?¡± she tilted her head, confused and annoyed. This was starting to look like a lot more trouble than a simple delivery. And she really wanted this to be a simple, no nonsense, dead bug delivery. ¡°Of course they do, superficially,¡± he laughed, ¡°it¡¯s all necromancers bad this, kill all necromancers that, until you can¡¯t pay for the mortgage on your dwelling, and you need to sell off a few of your relatives'' bones.¡± Momo nodded. Any good city needed a thriving underground trade, quite like college campuses and their ¡°no drugs¡± policy. ¡°So, thanks for the bugs,¡± he said, grabbing the pouch, ¡°but you will not be receiving a dime of payment from me. And if your necromancer friends have something to say about it, they can try showing up to my door, I¡¯ll simply call the guards!¡± Momo¡¯s face turned hot. There was no way she was messing up her first job this badly. She didn¡¯t even want to know what Valerica would say. Or do. But still¡­ she was just a strange girl in a foreign town, and this wizard was a¡­ wizard. With many slogans and titles, and probably many more class levels. Valerica¡¯s words repeated in Momo¡¯s mind¡ªyour meek, inadequate, and unassuming presence is quite the asset. ¡°You know, the necromancers there kidnapped me just yesterday,¡± she looked down at her feet innocently, ¡°and this is the first job they¡¯ve sent me on. I¡¯m so terrified, Sir Wizard, and you seem brave and smart¡­¡± The wizard¡¯s eyebrows rose. ¡°Oh, dear one! How terrible,¡± he frowned, ¡°that seems quite like those nasty necromancers.¡± ¡°Yes, yes. I was hoping¡­ maybe a wizard of your esteem would let me stay? Just for the night? I promise I''ll be out of your hair by morning tomorrow, you won¡¯t even know I¡¯m there.¡± His ego sufficiently flattered, the wizard scoffed, ¡°of course! Who am I to turn away a young lady in need. That would be an action unbefitting of a wizard of my stature. Come in, miss, make yourself at home.¡± The wizard guided her into his home, the garden gnomes dancing around their feet as they stepped through the garden. Are those gnomes undead? She wondered silently, watching as they bobbled around mindlessly. Walking through the entryway, the house seemed to shiver and shake, taking on a new form as they transitioned into the main room. The bricks on the walls reorganized themselves, shelves and tables re-assembled from scattered planks of wood. It was as if the house slept when its owner was away¡ªand reformed when he entered. ¡°Welcome to my quaint little abode,¡± he exclaimed, gesturing both hands up towards the house¡¯s high ceilings. Glass panels formed the roof, allowing sunlight to stream in. She imagined it would be beautiful at night, when you could look up and gaze at the stars. ¡°It¡¯s wonderful,¡± she commented as he gave her a tour. That was not a lie; she wouldn¡¯t mind living here. It struck her, suddenly, that keeping allegiances with the necromancer¡¯s sanctuary wasn¡¯t actually the smartest idea. It wasn''t like they''d given her much aside from a hay bed and a dead bear. This new world seemed vast and bright, brimming with opportunity. Not that she had ever been one to grasp opportunity, but still¡ªthere had to be better paths than sleeping in a dank, rat-infested fortress. Valerica¡¯s smiling face floated across her consciousness, and Momo frowned. Yes, Valerica was a necromancer. Yes, she probably also regularly smelled like a dead rat. But the woman seemed to believe in her, genuinely so. She had never felt that before¡ªbelieved in. She turned towards the wizard, who was eagerly inspecting her delivery, sorting bugs and other undead goods into glass jars. No. Unlike everything else she had started in her life¡ªa college art degree, several self-help books, cleaning her room¡ªshe was actually going to finish this. This... quest, of sorts. Deliver the goods, receive the payment. If only to prove to herself that she could.
Congratulations! For believing in yourself and staying loyal to your new family of necromancers, you have gained a level in [Necromage Initiate]. You have gained the class skill [Raise Undead] [Raise Undead]: You can reanimate a corpse to become an undead at the same level as yours, and order it to do your bidding.
4 - Momo’s First Exploitation Momo awoke to the sound of eggs frying on a skillet, the heavenly smell of warm maple syrup wafting through the air. Morning light was beaming through the glass ceiling, and the leaves of the wizard¡¯s various plants arched their stems to touch it. She rubbed her eyes and groaned. She was immediately regretting the promise she made to herself last night. This was heaven. ¡°Good morning, young lady!¡± the wizard exclaimed, his voice filling the room. Momo sprung up in bed, always one to be caught off guard. Looking around, Momo found that the fantasy she had been imagining in her slumber did not match reality. It was not the wizard who cooked, but a skeletal figure wearing a long, flowing dress. The skele-chef was accompanied by a dozen garden gnomes, who stirred ingredients and sampled the batter as she flipped pancakes on the hot griddle. She didn¡¯t even blink when oil splattered across her face. Does anyone employ people with a pulse on this planet? Momo wondered. Of course, undead labor seemed economical, not to mention efficient, but it was not pretty, and ethicality was a whole other question¡­ ¡°G¡¯morning,¡± Momo whispered to the wizard, feeling once again very out of place. All of the gnomes suddenly stopped and turned to her, as if waiting for an instruction. Momo¡¯s eyebrows rose. Could she control them? She was entirely lost on how these new powers of hers worked. There were so many intersecting mechanics¡ªclasses, levels, skills¡­ She never thought she¡¯d regret spending her youth drawing anime characters (and being subsequently bullied on DeviantArt) instead of playing video games. But here she was. ¡°Back to work, you lazy gnomes!¡± the wizard frowned, regaining authority over his minions. Momo bristled at how he spoke to them. Even if they were dead and mindless, they still deserved respect. She momentarily dreamed of running a Home for Abused and Unwanted Undead, where she would rehabilitate unwanted minions of all shapes and sizes. A sanctuary where they felt warm and safe, or as warm and safe as skeletons could feel. Surrounded by mold and moss, given hard, cold cement beds. Momo smiled with glee. ¡°Stupid gnomes, no loyalty,¡± the wizard shook his head, sitting at the kitchen table as the skele-chef arranged a variety of breakfast items in front of him. He gestured for Momo to join him, and she reluctantly left her bed, sitting across from him. The skele-chef poured some hot water in her cup, placing a tea infuser on top of it. It smelled wonderful and rich¡ªlike the matcha tea her mom would make every morning. Momo¡¯s bright smile faltered. Her relationship with her parents had soured in recent years (they wanted her to go into a profession that makes money, Momo wanted to draw mediocre cartoons) but she still recalled them fondly. They had done their best, trying to raise her in a brand new, unfamiliar land. Momo looked around her. Brand new, unfamiliar land... She frowned. If the universe was trying to teach her a lesson, it was a lesson she was uninterested in learning. ¡°Dig in,¡± the wizard said, raising his fork and knife excitedly before cutting into the pancakes. Putting her questions about the ethics of undead labor aside, Momo was basically drooling just looking at the food. Throwing politeness to the wind, she went to work; she ravenously swallowed up three pancakes, a plum, ten cherries, and two eggs before her stomach begged for mercy. She groaned, reclining back into her seat. Yes, she did feel like she was about to give birth, but God, it was worth it. ¡°They really have been starving you,¡± the wizard shook his head, ¡°how cruel.¡± ¡°So cruel,¡± she whispered, barely able to speak. Her lungs were running out of room to inflate, her stomach now taking up most of the space. ¡°So, you say the conniving necromancers kidnapped you just yesterday¡­ where did you hail from before then? Do you have a family, a place to call home?¡± Momo froze. She wasn¡¯t sure how much further to continue with her lying. Not that any of it was much of a lie, per se. They did ¡°kidnap¡± her from a different world entirely. ¡°Um, Earth?¡± she mumbled. If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. His eyebrows rose comically, ¡°the Other-World?! You don¡¯t say!¡± She simply nodded, watching with uncertainty as he rose from the table. ¡°Oh, how very intriguing! I capture spirits from the Other-World quite regularly, as they make great workers, with all their knowledge in the various earthly disciplines,¡± he gestured to the skeletal chef, who was now busy cleaning the dishes, ¡°but you¡­ you are fully formed, with a personality and everything.¡± Momo felt very unnerved at the way he was examining her. As if she was a piece of venison sold at the market. ¡°They must have not taken simply your spirit, but fully¡­ transported you,¡± his eyes glowed with interest, ¡°I didn¡¯t even know it was possible¡ªto fully transport a person between planes. That must take an immense amount of nether magic, performed by a very high-level necromancer.¡± His eyebrows creased with concern, and he began to sweat, ¡°a very high level necromancer¡­¡± ¡°You must be talking about Valerica,¡± Momo said, unable to help the smile forming on her lips, ¡°she told me that she chose me herself.¡± ¡°V¡ªValerica?¡± he stuttered, skin going pale, ¡°The Valerica is the High Necromancer of Morgana¡¯s Dawn?¡± Telling from his appearance, Valerica had a reputation that even exceeded the sanctuary of mages she led. Momo sighed. She was so cool. ¡°Oh Gods, oh dear sweet heavenly Gods,¡± he buried his head in his hands, ¡°I have made a grave error.¡± After babbling nonsense for a few moments, he got up from the table and rushed towards a locked chest. He fished for a key in his pockets, and shoved it frantically into the lock. Cool factor aside, the amount of terror a mere mention of Valerica inspired in this wizard was not lost on Momo. By the time he had rejoined Momo at the table, she could have filled a full bucket with his sweat. ¡°Here,¡± he insisted, pushing a small mountain of gold to Momo¡¯s side of the table, ¡°take all of it. It¡¯s the cost of the bag of undead bits, and then some. Please tell Valerica that I have nothing but respect for her sanctuary.¡± Momo picked up one of the gold pieces. It was unexpectedly light, barely a feather to hold. The currency seemed to be enchanted with some sort of magic, making it easy to carry around in large amounts. He looked at Momo with pleading eyes. His begging filled Momo with a completely foreign feeling¡ªa rush of power. She couldn''t remember the last time she had felt a sense of dominion over someone; that she could make them do anything just to appease her. Oh no, she was¡­ she was enjoying it, wasn¡¯t she? She swallowed. No, she was better than this, maybe. Still, it was an opportunity. And Momo had promised herself that she would start taking those. ¡°Can we count on you to be a repeat customer?¡± she mumbled, voice cracking like she was going through puberty. How embarrassing. She cringed. The idea was there, but she had a lot of work to do on the execution. ¡°A repeat customer?¡± he grimaced. She nodded. If Morgana¡¯s Dawn was in need of funds, then the best thing she could do was drum up regular business. Momo had worked long enough at Mallmart to learn a thing or two about exploitative business practices. ¡°I think Valerica would like that,¡± Momo smiled. He looked quite like he might piss himself. ¡°Yes! Fine, fine,¡± he capitulated, shaking his head, ¡°Gods, a girl kidnapped by the Queen of Decay herself¡­ I pity you, even in our current circumstances.¡± Queen of Decay? That sounded very gross, but also hey, a Queen nonetheless! He lifted his head, having calmed himself down a bit. ¡°Listen,¡± he said, looking earnestly into Momo¡¯s eyes, ¡°you must be careful around her. She might seem charismatic, friendly, beautiful¡­¡± he trailed off, which Momo could absolutely relate to, ¡°but it¡¯s a carefully constructed ruse to get what she wants. At the end of the day, she is evil incarnate.¡± At his grave warning, Momo grinned. How fun, she thought. Good villains were always the best characters. ¡°I¡¯ll keep that in mind,¡± she nodded, totally aware that she wouldn¡¯t. Valerica believed in her. Saw great things for her. No one had ever done that before, evil incarnate or not. ¡°Fine, it¡¯s your funeral,¡± he sighed, and reached out his hand, ¡°now, what was your name, you vile little lass?¡± Momo looked down at his hand, staring wordlessly. Could this be it¡ªher first ever job completed? ¡°Momo,¡± she said quietly, and shook his hand. He shook it hard in return, flinging her limp wrist up and down. ¡°Momo,¡± he repeated, ¡°I¡¯ll remember that. Now skedaddle, before I remember my pride and change my mind about this whole arrangement!¡± As Momo exited the house, she couldn¡¯t help but do a small victory dance in his lawn, the gnomes mirroring her awkward little steps. With a satchel loaded full of gold, she grinned all the way back to the town square, pure dopamine lighting up her brain in a way that she¡¯d never felt. 147 - Start of Book 3: All Hail Our New Queen MEKNA GAZETTE DAY 3 OF SPRING, YEAR 2023 ALL HAIL OUR NEW QUEEN¡­ MOMO? Written by Kelly Kraken Very unusual reports have spread throughout the kingdom¡¯s newsrooms today. Riding on the heels of what Nether meteorologists are calling a cataclysmic cloud fall comes the assassination of the Prince, and the retreat of King Jarva into the Barium Sea. This startling retreat, first reported by our very own newsroom, was something we at the Mekna Gazette witnessed from mere feet away. One minute we were enjoying a clam brunch at the Squawking Gull Cafe, the next we were watching in horror as the Knights of the Sun raided our ports and stole off with our ships, our crew, and thousands of banknotes worth of goods and contraband. It was an unprecedented theft by the government of its people. One never before witnessed in the history of our little sea-side town. Which is why we, the Mekna Gazette, stand proud as the first in the newly declared Queendom of Morgana to recognize her Queenship Momo the Ripper, Disciple of Valerica, First of Her Name. She requested we simply refer to her as Momo, and nothing more than Momo ¨C what humility! Jarva could never. What a welcome breath of fresh, necromantic air. I know many of you out there in the kingdom do not share my sentiment. Okay, maybe is a bit of an understatement ¨C most of you are aghast at this news. The polls don¡¯t lie. Two days after ascending the throne, the new Queen has an abysmal approval rating of just 7%. And 5% of those votes were cast by undead voters. She has a steep hill to climb, to say the least. As a reaction to the new Queenship, ex-members of Jarva¡¯s Expert Holy Knights Brigade have taken up a new banner: The Holy Resistance. The Holy Resistance has formed camps throughout the continent, riddling the land with dissent against the new Necro-Ruler. They are actively recruiting sympathetic citizens to join them in their effort to recapture the capital from Momo¡¯s feral, undead army. Of course, you might be wondering what this change in regime means for you, citizens of Mekna and beyond ¨C tax breaks for not-yet-deceased workers? New regulations on if your buried relatives can be drafted into the undead army? Don¡¯t worry, Kelly Kraken is no sell out. I remain dedicated to the truth and solely the truth, which is why I asked Queen Momo¡¯s representative chancellor, Excalibur Bauble, the hardest hitting questions I could muster. Those answers lie¡­ behind this paywall! If you¡¯d like to read the full article, please upgrade to our Deluxe Subscription package, which is by-mail only. No more stealing newspapers off the streets, cowards. ¡ª ¡°Seriously?¡± Momo groaned, tossing the newspaper to the wind. ¡°A paywall? I really wanted to read that interview.¡± ¡°Why? Isn¡¯t Excalibur just your mouthpiece, anyway?¡± Radu said, holding tightly to the reins of his horse. ¡°I just assumed you just told him what to say and he said it.¡± Momo laughed as Nightmare trotted forward on the forest path, the dawning sun hanging over them. ¡°No way. The bauble tells me what to say,¡± she said. ¡°He¡¯s practically my ghostwriter.¡± ¡°You can¡¯t seriously be letting a toy make all your geopolitical decisions.¡± ¡°Of course I am,¡± Momo said, glaring. ¡°What do I know about geopolitics?¡± ¡°Well,¡± Radu glared back. ¡°You just recently overtook an entire kingdom, so I¡¯d hope a little bit.¡± Momo sighed. ¡°You know I never do that kind of thing on purpose.¡± Nightmare stopped abruptly, his hooves digging into the dirt and throwing Momo back in her saddle. ¡°Nightmare,¡± she grunted, just barely keeping herself in the seat. ¡°We¡¯ve talked about this. Give a girl a little warning first.¡± The horse sniffed defiantly. He had stopped just in front of a wide wooden fence, a mile-long circular border made of thick and gnarled branches. Coarse ropes, barbed wire, and metal spikes haphazardly decorated the barricade. Momo slipped off Nightmare¡¯s side and approached the wall, poking it with her finger. It didn¡¯t budge, fastened tightly to the ground. She peered through, and could see a few buildings between the cracks in the fence: a few watchtowers, a sprinkling of tents, a bonfire. In the center of the encampment was a tall flagpole, and at the top, a flag, waving wildly in the wind. The canvas was marked with a white circle in the middle, and eight purple tentacles sprawling out of its center. Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. The flag of the Holy Resistance. ¡°This is the place,¡± Momo whispered, and took off her backpack. Dusk slipped out of it, the oncilla¡¯s paws dancing silently on to the ground. Momo grabbed her, slung her around her shoulder, and turned to Radu. ¡°You okay to climb the wall, or are you scared to rip your designer robes?¡± ¡°Shut up,¡± Radu grumbled. ¡°They¡¯re not designer ¨C they¡¯re ancient holy artifacts. And you¡¯re giving me a piggyback ride.¡± ¡°These clogs were present when I stopped the universe from imploding,¡± she said, lifting her own feet. ¡°You don¡¯t see me calling the local museum for an exhibit.¡± Radu groaned. After the Oblivion Crisis ended, Radu was forced to return to Drachenheim for training. The process in which a new heir becomes The Dragon was referred to as the Ascension period, which was a fancy word to mean that Radu had to wear a lot of very hilarious clothing. It¡¯s like a lizard wearing a lizard costume, Momo had thought, seeing it for the first time. The shimmering pieces of red metal designed to look like scales; the fake wings that inflated like pool floaties whenever he jumped; the boots with three-pronged pieces of metal that looked like someone attached forks to a red-painted cowboy boot. His clothing hadn¡¯t been the only thing to change. During the first week of the Ascension, he jumped from Intermediate to Expert, transforming into something called a Knife Wyrm. Momo thought the class name was almost as funny as the clothing. The level up didn¡¯t come with any physical changes ¨C like very cool horns ¨C but it did make him a certified meister of all assortments of short-bladed things, which was most likely helpful for many reasons, but Momo was exclusively excited about the new party tricks he could do with his daggers, such as spin the head of one on his fingertip, or throw them with perfect accuracy at a balloon from ten meters away. ¡°Let¡¯s get this over with,¡± Radu said, hauling himself onto Momo¡¯s back and avoiding Dusk¡¯s whipping tail. ¡°I only have until seven. The Dragon is very specific about dinner time.¡± Using [Death Monkey Leap], Momo soared easily over the fence. They landed in a thorny shrub, and Radu made a great deal out of picking branches out of his inflata-wings. ¡°Keep it down,¡± Momo whispered harshly at him. ¡°They¡¯ll hear us.¡± About five meters away, sitting around the blazing campfire, was a group of three knights. Two typical steel helmeted grunts and then one peculiar little guy ¨C some sort of bard, with a gold-encrusted mandolin slung over his shoulder. He had to be a dwarf, or at least the half-son of one. ¡°Aren¡¯t you going to play another of your ballads?¡± one of the large knights berated the dwarf, poking at the fire with a stick. ¡°I don¡¯t see the use of having you around if you¡¯re just gonna¡¯ galavant about the place drinking our mead and eating our rations.¡± ¡°I sang twenty-four of them ballads just this morning. My throat is all dried up like a dirt road,¡± the bard said, coughing painfully. ¡°And I have to save some time for my songwriting. New ballads don¡¯t write themselves.¡± ¡°Oh, by Kyros. It¡¯s just words,¡± the second knight added. ¡°I could write one for you in a matter of minutes. All you have to do is sing it, you precious little songbird. I lost my arm to a necromancer, and you¡¯re scared of losing your damn vocal chords.¡± The bard went hot in the face, jumping off his log and thrashing his tiny fist in the air. ¡°Just words? Just vocal chords? You dare to speak of art in this way, you uneducated brute?¡± ¡°Settle down,¡± the knight scoffed. ¡°Half your verses are just rhyming Momo with bozo, necro with hell no. It¡¯s not art. It¡¯s auditory sabotage.¡± ¡°They write songs about me?¡± Momo whispered to Radu, cheeks reddening as the two went back and forth. ¡°Not good ones, apparently.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know. I¡¯m on the bard¡¯s side,¡± Momo pouted. ¡°Art takes time. He can¡¯t be expected to produce anti-necromancer hits one after the other. He has to really think about his muse.¡± ¡°His muse?¡± Radu said, gawking at her. ¡°And wouldn¡¯t that be you?¡± Momo frowned. ¡°I guess so.¡± ¡°About time he met his idol, then,¡± Radu said. ¡°Come on. There¡¯s only three of them.¡± With a small whine of protest from Momo, Radu stalked forward out of the brush. The knights immediately caught on, stopping their squabbling to jump out of their seats, point their swords ¨C and mandolins ¨C forward, and address the intruders. ¡°Halt, trespassers!¡± the knight with the reductionist art opinions bellowed. ¡°This is not public ground. You have invaded a camp of the Holy Resistance. State your purpose, or be slain.¡± ¡°Charming,¡± Radu muttered. Momo ignored him, and extended a hand towards the knight. ¡°Hi there. I¡¯m, um, Momo. You might have heard my name from one of your friend¡¯s excellent songs,¡± Momo said, tilting her head towards the bard, who had gone quite pale in the face. ¡°I¡¯m the new girl-in-office running the Queendom of Morgana. It¡¯s my first week, so I¡¯ve been doing a bit of campaigning. Want to change those poll numbers and all.¡± Momo offered them a small, sympathetic smile. They didn¡¯t return it ¨C their jaws falling open, eyes going wide. The knight on the left fumbled, falling over the log behind him. ¡°Momo the Ripper,¡± the bard said, finally, his voice hoarse. ¡°It¡¯s really you. Gods, what an honor.¡± Momo turned her body towards him and blushed. ¡°I don¡¯t know about an honor,¡± she said, nervously scratching the back of her neck. ¡°It¡¯s an honor that someone¡¯s writing songs about me. I¡¯d love to hear one sometime.¡± ¡°Oh, please, they¡¯re no good,¡± he said, speaking in a rush of words. ¡°I¡¯ve written so many, but can¡¯t seem to find The One. There was Momo the Menace, Momo the Terrifying Menace, and recently, Momo the World-Ending Terrible No Good Evil Menace, but they¡¯re just not¡­ they¡¯re just not there, you know?¡± ¡°Ah. Well. Art is all about the journey. You¡¯ll get there,¡± she smiled. ¡°Have you thought of shortening the song to just Momo?¡± As the bard¡¯s eyes widened in understanding, a sword shot directly at Momo''s chest. ¡°Really?¡± she mumbled. ¡°I was having a conversation with a fan.¡± She ducked out of the way just as the tip of the sword flew over her head. The middle knight grunted, retracting his arm, ready to strike again. ¡°The entire nation will scream my name when they hear it was I, Tobias the Third, Son of Tobias, who felled the necromantic menace,¡± the knight bellowed, his sword arm reared. ¡°Be on your ready, Momo the Menace. I will turn you to Momo, Ash and Bones.¡± ¡°Now that is a good lyric,¡± the bard mumbled, scribbling furious notes in his journal. ¡°Perhaps I judged your songwriting ability too soon.¡± ¡°You¡¯re right, that wasn¡¯t half bad,¡± Momo agreed with a nod. ¡°But, sorry in advance, I think I¡¯m about to ruin the rest of the song.¡± She extended her Nether-painted hands towards the two knights, and smirked. I¡¯ve been meaning to try this one. ¡°[Maladaptive Daydreams].¡± 148 - The Campaign Trail ¡°Well, that was a bit hard to watch,¡± Momo mumbled. What remained of the knights¡¯ dignity lay in a moaning heap of limbs. All it had taken was one round of [Maladaptive Daydreams] to have them pulling their own hair out, screaming and flailing into the prickly fence. After the effects faded, they settled into a corner of the camp, whimpering. ¡°That¡¯s on you for using one of your Dokkaebi spells on a bunch of Intermediates,¡± Radu said, fiddling a lockpick into the camp¡¯s warchest. ¡°The jump to Expert is severe. It doesn¡¯t take much to flatline some knights who just made it past Novice.¡± Momo frowned. She hadn¡¯t come here to flatline anyone. In fact, quite the opposite. She had come to make friends. Sitting in the capital making statements of peace, love, and compassionate necromancy had done nothing to help her poll numbers. If she wanted the new Queendom to be ready to receive a counterattack from Jarva, she needed it to be united. And if she wanted it to be united ¨C she needed people to like her. Okay ¨C fearing her was an option too, but it wasn¡¯t the direction Momo wanted to take this thing. She didn¡¯t want to be a dictator. She didn¡¯t even want to be a queen. But Sumire insisted that she could redefine the role. Do it her way. The Momo way. Trademark pending. Thus: hitting the campaign trail. No army. No undead guardsmen. ¨C well, mostly. Sumire insisted a small skeletal contingent followed a few miles behind. Other than that, it was just Momo, her cat, and, on this occasion, her comfort knife lizard. The plan was to chart a course from the capital back to Kalendale, doing press conferences at swing-cities and visiting a few Holy Resistance camps along the way. Her army would keep the capital strong and develop its infrastructure; Sumire, blush, would make sure things actually got done; Excalibur would handle the droves of press showing up in caravans outside the city each day, and Momo would do the most crucial work of all: talking to the people. All the people. The thought made her nauseous. ¡°Finally,¡± Radu cheered, his grin accompanied by the click of a lock. The chest opened wide. ¡°Ugh, is this all?¡± the bard complained, leaning over Radu¡¯s shoulder to inspect the contents of the chest. Radu glared at him, swatting his hands away. ¡°I agree with him. Boring,¡± Momo said. ¡°It¡¯s just a bunch of paper and a half-eaten sandwich.¡± And it was ¨C two slices of white bread over gouda, and an assortment of letters. All of them were dated recently, and addressed to a specific person in particular. Marcella Celestina. ¡°That is an insane name,¡± Momo said. ¡°It¡¯s alright,¡± Radu said, taking the sandwich. Deeming it fresh enough, he bit into it. ¡°Do you remember where I¡¯m from? I have to deal with people named Bartholomew.¡± Momo unfortunately did remember. ¡°Fair enough.¡± While Radu and the bard fought over the last quarter of the sandwich, Momo took the letter out and examined it. And ¨C Oh crap. ¡°I¡¯ve got bad news and worse news,¡± Momo mumbled. The two paused their sandwich-fighting and looked at her. Radu frowned. ¡°Worse first.¡± ¡°Not all of the Knights of the Sun fled Jarvirium.¡± ¡ª ¡°So, this complicates things,¡± Radu sighed. ¡°You think?¡± Momo glared. The two ¨C well, three, now accompanied by the clingy bard ¨C sat around a campfire in the woods just outside Drachenheim. Radu was able to get away from dinner early, citing official diplomatic duties with the Queendom of Morgana, which really meant giving Momo a before-bed therapy session. ¡°It¡¯s not the end of the world,¡± Radu said. ¡°We¡¯ve dealt with that already.¡± Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°It¡¯s worse,¡± Momo sighed. ¡°It¡¯s the end of me proving to Sumire that I can run a kingdom.¡± ¡°That can¡¯t possibly be your sole motivation for this.¡± ¡°No, you¡¯re right, it¡¯s not,¡± Momo said, peeling the flap of a tin can backwards and pouring out some tuna fish. ¡°I¡¯m proving it to Valerica too.¡± Radu glared at her while Dusk hungrily lapped up the fish. Momo tried not to look as the remains of it traveled oddly through her half-skeletal body. The oncilla-zation process had resulted in her being half skin and fur, half bones. It was somehow more disconcerting than her original build. ¡°So gross,¡± she mumbled. ¡°The letters don¡¯t have a return address,¡± Radu said, inspecting the papers they found in the warchest. He looked towards the bard. ¡°You must know something about these two?¡± The bard looked up from his notebook, eyes wide. ¡°Me? I¡¯m just a wee bard.¡± ¡°And I¡¯m just a little lizard,¡± Radu rolled his eyes. ¡°You were hired by someone. Who?¡± The bard looked towards Momo. Momo gave him an enthusiastic smile, which most likely came across as a vaguely threatening one. Her [Innocent Look] skill seemed to have been impacted by the Nether Dokkaebi class. No matter how hard she tried, she just looked a bit up to no good. ¡°Promise not to kill me?¡± he whimpered. ¡°I¡¯ll be your own personal musician. I can write all kinds of genres. Not just propaganda music.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t kill people,¡± Momo frowned. ¡°Least of all musical geniuses.¡± He blushed, looking down at his lute. He reached into the center of it and extracted a small business card, which he handed to Momo. It was white, and said Grimli Copperstrings, Expert Bard for Hire in golden lettering. ¡°Grimli Copperstrings, pleasure to make your acquaintance,¡± he said, extending a hand as if he hadn¡¯t been following them around like a lost puppy dog for the last two hours. ¡°My family¡¯s from Deepgroove in the west, and I¡¯m the eighth son of the Copperstrings clan.¡± ¡°All we asked is who hired you,¡± Radu said. ¡°Let the man speak,¡± Momo said, egging him on with a smile. ¡°Go on.¡± He smiled warmly back at her. ¡°What a gentlewoman you are, Ripper Momo. I have met few kinder souls in my journey around this continent. The Holy Knights are a rancid bunch, really, concerned with little else than screaming profanities at the top of their lungs. It¡¯s artless.¡± Momo shook her head solemnly. ¡°Sounds like it. Did they pay you well, at least?¡± ¡°Terribly. Just terribly. A few gold pieces per ballad. Art cannot be measured this way.¡± ¡°That¡¯s pure exploitation.¡± ¡°It is! What a soul you are to recognize my plight,¡± he said, getting to both knees in a praying position. ¡°I¡¯m sure someone of your esteem and wealth can afford a much higher, more appropriate price. Something worthy of an artist.¡± ¡°Oh, great. Now he¡¯s marketing,¡± Radu grumbled. ¡°Momo, let¡¯s get Dusk to escort this guy out.¡± The cat¡¯s eyes brightened, staring intently at the bard. Grimli squeaked. ¡°Be nice,¡± Momo murmured. ¡°Grimli, I¡¯m going to need you to tell us who hired you. It¡¯s not very good business if I don¡¯t know who I¡¯m stealing you from. I don¡¯t want any lawsuits.¡± He bit at his nails nervously. After a while, he sighed, and nodded his head. ¡°I never met Ms. Celestina. No one has. She only communicates via bird. Pigeon. There¡¯s two others ¨C Ms. Bellafor and Ms. Slythorn. Only Ms. Bellafor shows her face. I met her in Deepgrove, an odd place to meet a human woman, it is. An odder place still to meet a Knight of the Sun.¡± ¡°By pigeon?¡± Momo said, interrupting him. She had an odd sense of deja-vu. ¡°Weird. And what did Ms. Bellafor tell you about the Holy Resistance? About the knights¡¯ plan?¡± ¡°Nothing much.¡± ¡°I¡¯m starting to think the knights back there had a point,¡± Radu added. Grimli looked startled. ¡°Listen, she didn''t say much - but I¡¯m an observant man, I am! Deeply so! I don¡¯t need people to run their mouths for me to get a clear picture,¡± he added, trying to preserve his place in their makeshift group. ¡°I overheard Ms. Bellafor telling one of her associates that she¡¯s headed for Mekna. Something something about an important package.¡± Mekna. That¡¯s where the Knights of the Sun had left from. Maybe there are still some lurking there? ¡°I don¡¯t miss that place,¡± Radu groaned. ¡°But Kelly Kraken is very interested in meeting you in-person. It could bolster your poll numbers if you gave her a face-to-face interview.¡± ¡°Does that mean we can skip the campaign event tomorrow?¡± Momo whimpered. ¡°Nope,¡± Radu said with a glare. ¡°You¡¯re the one who signed up to be Queen. You¡¯re going to have to get used to this.¡± ¡°Fine,¡± Momo said. ¡°But I¡¯m assigning you to catch any tomatoes they try and throw at me. We¡¯ll use them for dinner later.¡± Radu groaned. ¡°I want to elect a normal monarch next time.¡± ¡ª The small forest city of Refuge¡¯s End sat halfway between Drachenheim and Nam¡¯Dal. It was the culmination of many bumpy, forking roads, haunted trees with beady eyeballs, and wild boars roaming the brush. Momo would have missed it a thousand times over if it wasn¡¯t for the Campaign Trail, a true masterpiece of a map that Sumire had pieced together. ¡°If we have to fight another tree, I¡¯m going to get depressed,¡± Momo said as they turned another corner on horseback. Grimli sat behind Momo, his hands wound tightly around her middle. ¡°I won¡¯t be depressed, but I will be the cause of a forest fire,¡± Radu muttered. Momo laughed. ¡°Well aren¡¯t you grumpy.¡± ¡°I was born grumpy.¡± Much to Nightmare¡¯s chagrin, they passed through another long wall of vines. Leaves tickled her neck as Momo came out the other side, an overwhelming scent pouring over her. ¡°Oh my god,¡± Momo said. Lavender ¨C it was as thick and dreamy as the candles her mom used to spread around the house. Purple herbs danced through the air, doing pirouettes around the alcove of a city. White and purple ivy climbed up small humble homes, inns, and garden walls. It was the perfect picture of a cozy fantasy, all except one thing. At the center of town was a tall, wide board with an advertisement of her visit. Queen Momo. 12th Day of Spring. Q&A Welcome. And right next to it, was another, slightly different advertisement. Death to Queen Momo. Protest and Strike. 12th Day of Spring. Weapons welcome. 149 - Refuge’s End The lights were dim and the air was smoky as they settled into the packed inn. Momo wore a mask that covered both her face and horns ¨C a reflective metal thing that drew more attention than she¡¯d like, but less attention than if she were to go bare-faced. It turned out that the price of queendom was celebrity, and not the fun kind. ¡°How are you supposed to have a drink with that ugly contraption taped to your face?¡± the bartender asked, his furry, rat-like face twisted up in confusion. He poured a series of drinks without so much as looking at them, his practiced fingers winding around glass bottles. ¡°I won¡¯t be,¡± Momo squeaked. ¡°Actually, we¡¯re not here to drink, we¡¯re looking for¡­¡± ¡°Not here to drink?¡± Grimli chimed in, aghast. ¡°Speak for yourself, metal-cheeks.¡± Grimli slapped two banknotes down on the table. ¡°What¡¯s the specialty here?¡± he asked. ¡°Lavender Stabbers,¡± the bartender said, waving towards a poster in the corner. Momo raised her eyes. The poster was vintage, wrinkled and old. It had an illustration of a lavender plant caressing two daggers, purple blood running down the hilt. ¡°I¡¯ll take as many stabbies as this money gets me,¡± Grimli said with a tipsy grin. Momo squinted. She had assumed that the flask he was carrying had been apple juice. ¡°And two for my friend in the helmet. Kyros knows she needs a drink.¡± The bartender rolled his eyes, taking the money before setting ten glasses in a line, turning the spigot, and letting a shimmery purple liquid rush out and over the cups. He queued them through the spray like cars in a car wash. ¡°Ten Stabbers,¡± he said dryly, placing them down. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t suggest having more than two if you have any documented gastrointestinal issues. More than five of these will split your stomach into two distinct organs.¡± Momo grabbed one for inspection. A bit of electricity jumped off the surface of it. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m good. As I said, we¡¯re looking for someone named, um¡­.¡± She looked towards Radu sheepishly. She wasn¡¯t good with names. ¡°Cedric,¡± Radu filled in, giving her a look that meant your memory is depressingly bad. The bartender stopped his whip crack movements, stilling completely. Purple liquid sloshed on the ground and all over his apron. He didn¡¯t seem to notice. ¡°What business do you have with Cedric?¡± Momo swallowed. The bartender slowly regained control of himself, switching off the tap and grabbing a napkin to plot the stains. His mouse-like nose twitched, his teeth chattering. ¡°He invited us here,¡± Momo said. ¡°As¡­ um¡­¡± She looked around the room. Alongside posters advertising drinks were several of her own campaign ads. She had them distributed weeks prior ¨C hung up in every city on the campaign trail. They had arrived in pristine condition, fresh off the Jarvirium printing press, but were now in a state of complete disrepair. Each of them was graffitied with increasingly alarming iconography: skulls drawn over her eyes, her throat slit, bunny ears jutting out of her head. That one is kind of cute. She had expected that she would have a hill to climb with her popularity, but she didn¡¯t realize that the bottom of the hill began in hell. Sumire had assured her that each town on the trail would welcome her, plus or minus a few haters. Plus or minus seemed to be a huge understatement. Refuge¡¯s End was her first proper campaign event ¨C everything else had just been practice with a few villagers and Radu in the audience giving her a thumbs up ¨C but it was not looking to be a well-received debut. ¡°Look, I don¡¯t even want to know,¡± the bartender said. ¡°I just want you all out of my face. Cedric sleeps under the bridge in the center of town. If he¡¯s asleep, just throw a stone at him.¡± ¡°Sleeps there?¡± Momo said, eyebrows lifting. ¡°Is he homeless?¡± The bartender shook his head. ¡°You must be new here.¡± ¨C Political failure #1: Momo should have paid a little more attention to the town¡¯s slogan. This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. Refuge¡¯s End ¨C When There¡¯s Absolutely Nowhere Else To Turn She had assumed the hundreds of tents littering the perimeter of town were meant for camping. And she supposed they were ¨C but in the more permanent sense. The tents were proper dwellings, with chairs and couches and coffee tables. The house-shaped buildings weren¡¯t houses, but post offices. Bustling package centers for pickup and drop off. After a few minutes of careful observation, Detective Momo deduced two things about the local population: one, that the town¡¯s top import was nomadic outcasts and refugees, and two, its top export was handcrafted letters for far away loved ones. Just kidding ¨C it was black market goods. ¡°Just how many cities in Jarva¡¯s kingdom based their whole economy around banned items?¡± Momo remarked as she saw a lizard man carry a certified leaning tower of Pisa of boxes marked NON-ILLEGAL SUBSTANCES into one of the post buildings, shove each through the tiny mail flap, and then carry on with his day. Radu shrugged. ¡°Jarva¡¯s banned-item list was longer than his allowed-item one. He even banned cabbage because he didn¡¯t like the taste.¡± Momo stopped in her tracks, thinking back to her complete failure to find dumpling ingredients. ¡°That explains so many things.¡± ¨C They walked through a sea of hooded pedestrians as they approached the town bridge. They weren¡¯t unfriendly in the Nam¡¯Dal sort of way; not snooty like the birds, or thieving like the¡­ thieves, but a different brand of asocial ¨C scared, apprehensive. Momo could only feel bad for them. They had obviously been through a lot. But I have the power to make things better now, she thought, filled with fleeting conviction. She chose not to think about the fact that most of them wanted her dead. A small river split Refuge¡¯s End in two distinct parts, separating the city center from the tent-populated camping grounds. A small, furry creature stood in the middle of the bridge with a stamp, pressing it to a booklet offered by each passing resident. ¡°Is that¡­ Cedric?¡± Momo whispered, peering past the people and down below the bridge. Beneath the bridge, cast in shadow, was an enormous figure. Like the creature on the bridge, it was draped in fur and dressed in tattered clothing. Its chest rose and fell to the tune of the water rushing by, snoring loudly and sleeping soundly. ¡°Must we really wake him?¡± Grimli squeaked. ¡°I¡¯d much rather make any necessary dealings with the smaller version.¡± ¡°That¡¯s a child, Grimli,¡± Radu said. ¡°We¡¯re not making business deals with a child.¡± ¡°That child is a professional border patrol agent,¡± Grimli argued, crossing his arms. ¡°Look at him stamping all of those visas. We¡¯re drawing the line at this but not at child labor? How grim.¡± Momo ignored them, choosing to travel down to Cedric¡¯s side while they argued. At closer proximity, she could see the pattern of his fur, orange and brown like an Australian Shepherd. He reminded her a bit of a more feral, wilder Totoro. But still ¨C very cute. ¡°Hi Mr. Cedric,¡± she whispered, patting at his side. ¡°I¡¯m Momo. I¡¯ve been told you run things around here?¡± Another large, billowing breath escaped his nostrils. It made the bridge wobble. Momo tried a few more times ¨C with increasingly loud greetings ¨C but nothing seemed to work. The beast could sleep through anything. Remembering the bartender¡¯s advice, she turned to a stone on the ground. This feels like animal abuse. ¡°Please don¡¯t throw anything too pointy. It gives Da migraines.¡± A measured, childlike voice came from behind her. She whipped her head around to see the small creature from earlier. The one on the bridge stamping passports. It was about the same size as Momo, wearing overalls and a hat.
Type: Mogli. Name: Junior. Level 4. HP: ? The fat, furry guardians of the forest. The Moglis are forest spirits which watch over villages and cities, usually requiring patronage in exchange for their guardianship. They have a warm and friendly disposition, but don¡¯t anger the larger ones. They have a lot of room in that belly of theirs.
The audio-courier read the description out to her as her eyes raked over the furry thing. A mogli. How cute. ¡°Hello there,¡± Momo squeaked, embarrassed to be caught about to maul the thing¡¯s father with a rock. ¡°I wasn¡¯t going to actually throw it, promise. I just don¡¯t know how to wake him up.¡± The smaller mogli picked up a round stone and tossed it from hand to hand. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. Only way to get my Da up is a big pebble to the head. Either that, or entering the city without your proper registrations. Then he¡¯ll gobble you up.¡± Momo gulped. That¡¯s not terrifying at all. Rearing his hand upwards, the tiny mogli threw the rock hard and fast at the bigger one¡¯s head. ¡°Urgh.¡± Cedric blinked suddenly awake, groaning as he raised his head. Not thinking clearly, he collided with the bridge. A clump of bricks dislodged themselves from the bridge, clamoring to the ground around him. Residents screamed from above, running around the newly created hole. ¡°Junior,¡± the beast grumbled, glaring at his son. ¡°Didn¡¯t I tell you to get that bridge renovated? I can¡¯t keep hittin¡¯ my head every time I wake up from a nap.¡±
Type: Mogli. Name: Cedric. Level 12. HP: ?
¡°I did get it renovated up a foot, Da. But then you started falling asleep a foot higher than before,¡± Junior responded, obviously exhausted. ¡°It¡¯s a whole cycle.¡± ¡°And we can¡¯t just build the bridge at a right angle like I asked?¡± ¡°No, Da. I told you for the last time, humans can¡¯t just walk vertically.¡± ¡°Can¡¯t they climb?¡± ¡°Not all of ¡®em,¡± Junior shook his head. ¡°I ran all the numbers and the models. If we make the bridge vertical, we lose ninety-nine percent of our profits.¡± ¡°Gah,¡± Cedric said, throwing one of his ginormous paws through the air. ¡°Forget about it. Who¡¯s this?¡± ¡°No idea. Found her here in the river with a rock headed straight for your head.¡± Junior and Cedric both turned to her, looking expectantly. Momo turned red. ¡°I''m Momo,¡± she squeaked. ¡°I think I can help you with your bridge problem.¡± 150 - The Bridge Project ¡°Is that the mechanic, Junior? She¡¯s a bit smaller than I imagined,¡± Cedric said, huffing as he leaned down to grab the bricks sloshing around in the water. ¡°Can¡¯t imagine those arms doing much lifting.¡± ¡°Ah, no, Da, I think this is the new queen of the kingdom. The one that had Jarva running for the shores, or so they say.¡± Cedric¡¯s head turned. ¡°That so?¡± Momo blushed, trying to stand as straight and royally as possible. Her posture was still terrible, a relic of her art student days. She ended up looking like a bent ruler. ¡°Hm. She¡¯s a bit tiny for a queen, too,¡± Cedric said after a moment of analysis. ¡°I wasn¡¯t aware the position had a height requirement,¡± Momo mumbled. ¡°What was that?¡± ¡°Nothing, sir,¡± Momo said with a bow. Clearly, her new status didn¡¯t hold much weight here ¨C or anywhere on the continent. But that was nothing she wasn¡¯t used to. ¡°My military advisor, Sumire, told me that she contacted you to be a sponsor for my campaign event here in Refuge¡¯s End.¡± ¡°Ah, right. The pirate lady. She was charming to talk to via pigeon. Pretty handwriting.¡± Pretty in many ways, Momo thought, making herself blush. Not the time, Momo. ¡°Ms. Sumire promised you¡¯d fix our bridge in exchange for security at your event,¡± Junior said, talking like a little businessman. Grimli had a point about child labor. ¡°If you have no security, the people will probably shiv you to death. They¡¯re nice people, well-meaning, but they really don¡¯t like public officials.¡± ¡°She promised that?¡± Momo said, frowning. Sumire failed to mention that. ¡°I¡¯d be really happy to fix your bridge, but the campaign event is in a few hours. I don¡¯t think we can manage the construction in time.¡± ¡°Sure you can,¡± Junior said with a nod. ¡°Because you¡¯ll have to. Don¡¯t want to die at your debut event, right?¡± The forest spirit giggled, then walked away towards the bridge. ¡°Got passports to stamp. Don¡¯t worry about moving Da while you¡¯re renovating ¨C a skyscraper could fall on him and he¡¯d just whine about the inconvenience.¡± Momo looked at Cedric and sighed. He was already fast asleep. ¡ª The clock tower in the center of the town donged. The clock had struck three ¨C leaving Momo with only two hours remaining until her campaign event. ¡°Crap,¡± she sighed, looking at the parchment in her hands. ¡°Help me out here, courier.¡± By Radu¡¯s advice, she was sifting through pages of instructional documents she had never bothered to read about the Ruler System. She gained access to it after ascending the throne in Nam¡¯Dal, but quickly shifted the responsibility onto Viktor Mole as soon as he ambled into town. As it turned out, Momo had become a more confident public speaker ¨C but not more confident in general. She could reliably get a few sentences out of her mouth at any given time, but running an entire city? What if she made a mistake and someone got upset? What if people said mean things about her in the press? It was all too much pressure. So the responsibility for Nam¡¯Dal went to Viktor. And the responsibility of ruling Jarvirium to Excalibur. And the responsibility of her army to Sumire. And the responsibility of pretty much everything else to Dusk. This is becoming a pattern in my life, she thought grimly. She looked down at the paper and took a deep breath in. I¡¯m not stupid, she reminded herself. I can do something as simple as industrial bridge engineering. From the little that she studied it before, she knew the Ruler System could be used to shift funds around her holdings. Now that she was the queen, she theoretically owned all of Jarva¡¯s former holdings. Emphasis on the theoretically. For each holding within the queendom, a small meter ¨C kind of like a speedometer ¨C displayed her control rating in that holding. If it was too low, she couldn¡¯t access any of its funds or materials.
Refuge¡¯s End ¨C De Jure Holding This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Control Rating: 3%
  • 3% from neutral association with Cedric and Junior Mogli
  • -97% from negative association with everyone else
  • 100% of the residents are still living under the doctrine of King Jarva. Due to Kyros¡¯s [Brainwash] Area of Effect spell over all of Jarva¡¯s holdings, residents are initially predisposed to hate you, even if they didn¡¯t like Jarva much.
You can improve this rating either through Approval or Fear.
[Brainwash]? Great. Momo sighed. I didn¡¯t know that gods themselves could use skills. That must be part of the God System. Maybe I can get Valerica to cast a few Area of Effect spells of her own to dilute the effects. But she had zero idea how to get in contact with Valerica right now ¨C plus, she was busy with her God Onboarding, or whatever. So that left Momo to her own devices. Either Approval, or Fear. ¡°Definitely not fear,¡± she mumbled. ¡°I just want everyone to like me.¡± So, her default solution ¨C self-defense against crazy townspeople people ¨C was out. She would need the moglis as bodyguards, and to do that, she¡¯d need to fix their bridge. Somehow. Her eyes brightened. The undead contingent. ¡°Dusk,¡± she patted the napping oncilla on the head. ¡°Go get my skeletons.¡± ¡ª By Sumire¡¯s request (demand), a team of about thirty-two skeletons had followed Momo from Jarvirium. She had instructed them to stay as far back as possible to avoid scaring off any undead-wary townspeople, but they could move quickly to make up the distance. Especially when Mob Boss Dusk was involved. They waded in through the river, floating like a bunch of loosely connected limbs. Momo didn¡¯t want them to enter through the city ¨C she wasn¡¯t so sure the residents would be receptive to three dozen royal skeletons marching by their postal offices ¨C so the water was the only reasonable entry point. ¡°Is this some kind of bribery?¡± Cedric asked, picking up one of the skeletons by the collarbone. ¡°I usually don¡¯t eat things without some meat on them, but I can always go for a chew toy.¡± Momo waved her hands frantically. ¡°No, no. They¡¯re not snacks. They¡¯re going to fix your bridge.¡± ¡°Oh,¡± he said, sounding mildly disappointed. ¡°That¡¯s fine, I guess. Explains all the new bricks that fell on my head.¡± After much ¨C eurgh ¨C reading, Momo had realized one crucial thing about the Ruler System. While she couldn¡¯t take resources out of towns that she had no control over, she could rush money and resources into them. Just as the system had used magic to construct rooms back in Nam¡¯Dal, it could seamlessly transport resources from Jarvirium into Refuge¡¯s End. Standing in front of her modest undead force, Momo planted her hands on her hips. Fake it ¡®till you make it, she thought. ¡°My skele-helpers, here¡¯s the plan,¡± she said as loudly as she could muster. ¡°Following the recipe for a Town Bridge Renovation I found in the Ruler Guide, we¡¯re going to outline the section of the bridge that Cedric always hits his head on and increase the height of it by six feet. Then we¡¯ll install a set of stairs over that portion so people can still climb safely.¡± She peeled out the recipe from the courier pages, placing it in front of Dusk. Momo had nominated her to be the resident Cat-Construction Supervisor. Momo had no doubts ¨C the feline was more than up for the job. In absence of her friend Lizard Eater, Dusk had been dying for a chance to relieve her boredom.
Town Bridge Renovation Materials Required:
  • Stone: 300 units
  • Timber: 200 units
  • Mortar: 50 units
  • Iron: 50 units
  • Rope and Cables: 100 meters
  • Gravel and Sand: 100 units
  • Limestone: 100 units
  • Earth and Clay: 100 units
All materials have been acquired by shifting resources from Jarvirium¡úRefuge¡¯s End. Please restock appropriately.
¡°You have two hours,¡± Momo said, giving Dusk an affectionate scratch on the chin. ¡°Remember what Valerica taught us about undead employee management ¨C no breaks, and no mercy.¡± ¨C The renovation came in 30 minutes ahead of schedule. Momo had accidentally shifted more resources than necessary onto the project, resulting in a Town Bridge Renovation++, including a magical escalator, multiple benches, trash cans, and a shady booth for passport stamping. Junior was overjoyed. ¡°No more full-body sunburns,¡± he cooed, staring gleefully at the umbrella now overlooking his border control stand. ¡°We can tell the doctor I¡¯m no longer at risk for OMD.¡± ¡°OMD?¡± Momo asked, too curious to be polite. ¡°Overheated Mogli Disease,¡± Cedric said. ¡°Moglis aren¡¯t supposed to stand out in the sun too long. We¡¯re forest spirits, not sunray-resistant beach dwellers.¡± Cedric raised his head experimentally, and found that he could swing it around without a single collision with the bridge. The pedestrians didn¡¯t seem to mind the introduction of the stairs either; the other new perks, like the benches and the new tide pool, seemed to make up for it. The town bell sounded again. It was nearing five o¡¯ clock. ¡°Alright, Ms. Momo,¡± Junior said, crossing his arms. ¡°You¡¯ve more than earned our help. We¡¯ll make sure you survive your first campaign event. You won¡¯t even have to pay us or nothing.¡± Pay them? Momo stared at him, speechless. This entirely avoidable renovation just cost me 4,000 gold. After a moment, she found her voice again. ¡°Thanks, Junior.¡± ¨C Fireflies zipped around the tents, providing a faint source of illumination on the moon-bathed campgrounds. In the middle of the field, in a rare tent-free oasis, was a small, makeshift stage. Momo stepped lightly around it in her clogs, careful not to impale herself on an exposed nail. Cedric and Junior put up a fence around the stage, barring the pitchfork-wielding crowds from getting too close. They screamed profanities just the same, but Cedric threatened their visa status in the town if they were to actually try an attack. ¡°This feels wrong,¡± Momo whispered to Radu as they gazed out at the agitated masses. ¡°Why are we siding with the immigration police?¡± ¡°And with child labor,¡± Grimli reminded them. ¡°Stop it. It¡¯s a family business. It¡¯s different,¡± Momo mumbled. ¡°Well ¨C whatever. We¡¯ll sort out the sketchy visa situation after they don¡¯t want to kill us anymore.¡± ¡°Fine by me,¡± Radu said. ¡°It¡¯s your rules now, Queen.¡± Momo nodded ¨C and that¡¯s when the idea came to her. She grinned. She knew how she was going to win them over. 151 - Q&A Part one in Momo¡¯s master plan to win the hearts and minds of the public: Public humiliation. Otherwise known as Q&A. Cedric and Junior had attempted to enforce a queue of questions, but the mirage of civility had only lasted a few minutes before people started shouting out at random, waving their pitchforks in the air as they addressed Momo with their very specific, increasingly delusional concerns. ¡°Your government told my son he could become a Holy Knight, but when he showed up to the capital, they told him the results of his Capability Test better matched him for a Horse Brusher. How is he supposed to provide for a child with nothing but a mane-based income?¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry to hear that,¡± Momo said, offering her best attempt at sympathy. ¡°I¡¯d like to clarify for the second time, that wasn¡¯t my government, that was Jarva¡¯s ¨C¡± ¡°A Horse Brusher! Let him at least have a chance at being part of the Prince¡¯s Royal Armchair Association. My good-for-nothing son might not be the next Aloysius, but he could at least serve as a good enough foot rest. He¡¯s got a good back on him, sturdy knees.¡± ¡°That association has actually been retired,¡± Momo said meekly. ¡°Given that the prince is dead, and employing people to be chairs was deemed inhumane.¡± ¡°Oh, great, now he¡¯s dead. Instead of keeping him alive for the sake of the good people employed at the Armchair Association, you had to go ahead and kill him. What sort of transferrable skills do you have if you¡¯ve been an arm rest your whole life? How is that humane?¡± Momo blinked, speechless. ¡°Next question,¡± Cedric bellowed, glaring at the woman. A tall reptilian man was selected for the next question. He wore leather armor and had a silver bow slung over his shoulder, a fresh rip of meat saddled onto his side. He looks like some sort of huntsman. Surrounding him were six smaller reptiles, pipsqueaks with big, round, doting eyes. When he stood up, the other residents quieted. Even the belligerent woman grumbled her way to the sidelines, making room for him at the front of the picket line. He seemed to command some amount of respect in the campgrounds. Momo swallowed. She had a plan ¨C but it required convincing someone with some clout among the other residents. Group think, and all. He seemed perfect. Don¡¯t mess this up. ¡°Hi there,¡± she greeted, smiling softly. ¡°Your children are very cute.¡± One of the six kids turned bright red, squeaking. He hid behind his father. ¡°Thank you,¡± he said. His voice was deep, measured. Unlike the torrent of residents who came before him, he wasn¡¯t screaming at the top of his lungs for her to resign and die. ¡°They are well fed and taken care of. No thanks to your government.¡± Momo¡¯s smile fell. Okay. Not a great start. ¡°I¡¯m sorry to hear that,¡± she repeated softly, like a proper politician. ¡°But I really want to change that. I¡¯m not Jarva. I¡¯m here to help people.¡± ¡°People?¡± he asked, raising an eyebrow. ¡°The ones with skin and meat and muscle? Or the ones you order around to build bridges without pay?¡± Momo laughed nervously. ¡°I get the concern. When I first came to Alois, I was scared of necromancers, too. But the friends I¡¯ve made here have helped me realize that fear isn¡¯t an emotion to live your life by. When you move past it, there¡¯s so much¡­ opportunity.¡± She faltered at the last bit of her practiced spiel. She had never been good at rote memorization. Luckily, Sumire had forced her to practice for weeks before she hit the campaign trail. Together they fashioned Momo a proper backstory and motivations ¨C that she was just a lonely girl from the Vagrant Dunes, down on her luck, when she was taken in graciously by a cult of do-good necromancers. It wasn¡¯t too far from the truth. California was mostly desert, anyway. ¡°Spare us the lines,¡± the reptile said with a glare. ¡°I want to know how you intend to be different from the last shill. Refuge¡¯s End has seen the rise and fall of many leaders ¨C none of which cared to pour even a dime into our city. All they care about is control. Your little bridge stunt is no different. Upgrading the panopticon does not give us our freedom.¡± Momo blinked. Shit. Shill? Panopticon? This man has read way more of the dictionary than I have. She breathed in. Stick to the strategy. All she had to do was pinpoint his anger, and redirect it. Kyros¡¯s [Brainwash] could only go so far. Focusing intently on him, Momo cast [Silent Mindreader]. An image popped into her mind. This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. She saw the huntsman sitting alone in the campgrounds at night, his children playing while he was hunched over a paper reading FROM THE OFFICE OF THE KING: CEASE AND DESIST. It was a decree from Jarva¡¯s Kingdom about the sale of illegal game meats. According to the decree, to be a certified game huntsman, you had to receive free training in Jarvirium ¨C but to receive free training in Jarvirium, you had to be born inside Jarvirium. It¡¯s a Catch-22, Momo thought, frowning. Jarva. What an asshat. It was obvious from the memory that the huntsman didn¡¯t have the money to move his whole family, but he also had to feed them somehow. So he was forced to sell his game illegally. That seemed to be the central trap of Refuge¡¯s End. Jarva had created a place where it was illegal to live, illegal to work, illegal to be. All the while profiting off the fines he sent and the bridge toll it cost them to go into town every day for work. A certified grift of a city. Not anymore, Momo thought, anger rushing through her. Remembering Sumire¡¯s advice about connecting with the people, Momo stood from the stool she had been sitting on and walked to the front of the stage. The pitchforks were closer now, poking mere inches from her feet. Cedric gave her a worried glance. She waved him off and took a deep breath in. If they tried to stab her, so be it. She was going to politic the shit out of this. ¡°I¡¯m not going to tell you how I¡¯m different from Jarva. I think it¡¯s obvious ¨C he¡¯s an ugly, tyrannical octopus, I¡¯m a girl who fell into necromancy and badly needs a haircut,¡± Momo said, mustering all her nonexistent courage to look straight at the lizard. ¡°I¡¯m going to tell you what¡¯s more important. What I¡¯m going to do next.¡± She took out a piece of blank parchment from the Ruler Book and wrote something down with her Quill. Turning her wrist, she flashed it to the audience, desperately hoping they could read her handwriting. ¡°I just decreed Law Number 1045 ¨C the Free Hunting Principle,¡± she said, letting the adrenaline of the moment guide her trembling voice. ¡°Tomorrow, I¡¯ll make it so the Guild of the Hunt will open their first new location outside of Jarvirium ¨C in Refuge¡¯s End. And you, Mr. Sir, will be its legal guildmaster. A certified huntsman.¡± The audience erupted in murmurs. The lizard stared at her, wide-eyed. ¡°You can¡¯t be serious,¡± he said. ¡°Don¡¯t make such asinine claims.¡± ¡°They aren¡¯t ass-in-line,¡± she said, trying and failing to match his evolved vocabulary. ¡°I made a promise to myself that I¡¯d run things differently. No bureaucracy. No red tape. I will change every single law Jarva made until every person in the Queendom is represented and happy.¡± ¡°That¡¯s a bold claim,¡± he said. ¡°Why should we believe you?¡± ¡°Because I just did it,¡± she said, pointing towards the skeletal brigade which had already gotten started on their newest building project. ¡°Look I ¨C I don¡¯t claim to be the best person for this job, but I¡¯m not afraid to ruin everything Jarva ever did in order to make your lives easier.¡± She cleared her throat. Every nerve ending in her body was buzzing, but she had gotten into the flow of it now, the banter, the back-and forth. The crowd was receptive ¨C open and listening. As much as she could feel bile growing in her throat for doing this amount of public persuasion, she just had to see it through. ¡°And if any of your kids want to be huntsmen too, you can train them yourself and they¡¯ll be considered registered,¡± she continued, hammering the final nail to her point. ¡°No ridiculous upfront payments. No fines. No expensive field trips to Jarvirium required.¡± The huntsman had grown quiet, his pupils growing wide in disbelief. It¡¯s working, Momo thought, her stomach turning. I¡¯m winning him over. ¡°That¡¯s great and dandy for the huntsmen,¡± the woman from before interjected, daring to ruin Momo¡¯s political high. ¡°But what about the rest of us? I can¡¯t even sell my flower crowns outside the borders without Jarva callin¡¯ them contraband.¡± ¡°Or my zebra hot dogs,¡± another villager piped up. ¡°Or my grilled hyena sandwiches.¡± ¡°Or my fedoras with little flowers attached to them.¡± Feeling the crowd slipping away from her, Momo waved her hands in front of her face frantically. ¡°Not a problem. Consider all of that taken care of,¡± she said. ¡°No respectable merchant will face any problems in the Queendom. You won¡¯t have to deal with cease and desist letters anymore.¡± ¡°Even for my illicit narcotics business?¡± another villager belatedly piped up. Momo paused, grimacing. ¡°Okay. Well. I¡¯ll have to look into that one.¡± Momo summoned the Laws and Regulations courier from the Ruler System. A giant scroll of every single law Jarva put into effect materialized in front of her, rolling its way across the stage and onto the grass. The residents eyed it in awe, reading off every rule they wanted scratched ¨C and every new regulation they wanted added. Momo fulfilled every single request. She felt like a rush like nothing else as the faces in the crowd turned from hostile to excited, miserable to awed. ¡°No more illegal sandwiches,¡± she said, scratching another law off with her quill. ¡°Or hot dogs. And another Armchair Association will be opened up here in town, for anyone to join and make a career out of being furniture.¡± ¡°And we don¡¯t want our passports checked every time we cross into town,¡± another resident said. Coming off a power high, Momo just nodded, crossing the regulation off and saying ¡°done.¡± Cedric turned to her, his nostrils flaring. ¡°What? You can¡¯t just do that. You¡¯ll take me and my boy out of a job.¡± She froze. Oops. ¡°No problem,¡± she said, nodding her head. ¡°We¡¯ll just get you guys better jobs. There must be something you want to do more than stamp stamps and yell at people from under a bridge.¡± ¡°Can hardly ask for a better day-to-day,¡± Cedric said, crossing his arms. ¡°I¡¯m sure we can find something.¡± ¡°Not so sure about that. Come on, Junior. We aren¡¯t protecting the woman who¡¯s threatening our livelihood.¡± ¡°But Da, I like her,¡± Junior mumbled. ¡°She¡¯s fun. I just got her to get rid of that law about how many chickens you can consume on a weekly basis.¡± Cedric pulled at his hand, tugging him away from the crowds. Momo¡¯s stomach immediately dropped, bracing for the inevitable impact of the pitchfork-wielding crowds. After a few moments, she opened her eyes. No piercing wounds came. The crowd had let go of their weapons. In fact, they were smiling at her. Giddy and excited like schoolchildren. The huntsman¡¯s children had paraded themselves to the front of the picket line, grappling over the fence to get a chance to see her up close. Momo¡¯s eyebrows shot up, caught off guard by their grins ¨C big and dimpled and hopeful. Even the shy one from before had wandered up to hand her something. It was a slab of meat wrapped in paper. A makeshift peace treaty. ¡°This is for you, Queen Momo,¡± the small lizard mumbled. ¡°Thanks for not being awful.¡± Momo¡¯s heart swelled. ¨C ¡°While I¡¯m very impressed at how you turned an angry mob into your personal groupies, I do have one question,¡± Radu asked much later, as they tore through six pounds of gifted pork chops. ¡°How exactly are you going to pay for everything you just promised them?¡± Momo chewed slowly and shrugged, the dopamine of the day flooding through her. ¡°Relax. The king has plenty of leftover money,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯m sure it¡¯ll be fine.¡± Probably. 152 - New Class: Demagogue
Congratulations! For garnering the love and affection of the public by making overly bold claims, pandering to a very specific population, and misrepresenting government funding, you have gained a level in the class [Demagogue]. [Demagogue] now occupies your second major class slot. [Demagogue] is an intermediate class under the domain of Mordecai, God of Thievery and Deception. Since your first major class, Nether Dokkaebi, is Expert-rank, all new classes you receive will be at rank Intermediate. This is your second time receiving a class under Mordecai. As such, he has sent you the [Blessing of Honeyed Words], which provides a temporary 30% boost to all deceptive persuasion attempts. You have gained the skills [Cult of Personality] and [Crowd Control]. [Cult of Personality]: The Demagogue possesses a magnetic personality and the ability to cultivate a devoted following of loyal supporters who are willing to defend and promote their cause. At the first level of this skill, you will receive 1 Loyal Follower. [Crowd Control]: The Demagogue can effectively manage large crowds, controlling their behavior and inciting them to take specific actions through clever manipulation and stagecraft.
¡°I hate this,¡± Momo muttered. ¡°Why are you mad? That class description is a perfect encapsulation of your last twenty four hours,¡± Radu said, laughing as Momo frustratedly crumpled the courier into a ball and tossed it into the grass. ¡°You do realize you receive classes based on your actions, right?¡± ¡°I take plenty of actions,¡± she disputed. ¡°And yet the system never decides to send me a class about improving the livelihood of a lizard and his six children, or giving extra good tips to waiters, or petting stray cats. I¡¯d be happy with any of those.¡± ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure it did give you a class about petting stray ¨C sorry, dead ¨C cats, but then you somehow evolved it into this,¡± he said, waving at her protruding horns. ¡°That''s all on you. It gave you plenty of evolution options. You¡¯re the one who turned Beast Tamer into Terrifying Nether Demon.¡± She narrowed her eyes at him. ¡°You¡¯re leaving out a lot of details.¡± ¡°And you¡¯re not accepting that you just kickstarted a populist political platform.¡± Momo blinked at him, face as blank as a clean whiteboard. ¡°A what?¡± ¡°Did you not read that book I gave you about Aloysian political ideology?¡± ¡°We both know I don¡¯t read, Radu.¡± He groaned, massaging his temple. Momo recognized the gesture ¨C it was lizard body language for maybe I should have left you outside of Nam¡¯Dal when I had the chance. ¡ª Sponsored by the power of round-the-clock undead labor, the Guild of the Hunt¡¯s newest office took only four and a half hours to construct. Time enough for Momo to cut the ribbon (a piece of leftover rope painted red) and congratulate the Hunt on its fine new establishment. Of course, there were no representatives from the guild around for Momo to greet and congratulate. Every one of them resided in Jarvirium, and would only receive notice of their organization¡¯s immediate expansion in a week¡¯s time, given the sorry state of the postal system. The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. (The mail chute lobbyists weren¡¯t so fond of her defunding their people-transportation branch, so they retaliated by failing to send any mail at all. Now the only efficient way to get anything delivered was by carrier pigeon ¨C and, as it turned out, pigeons were the most unionized bunch of fowls in the entire nation. Same week shipping was out of the question.) So the only hand she shook belonged to the lizard man, who Momo soon learned was named Tenderscales. With his shiny new bow and shinier new appointed position, he stood long, tall, and heavily burdened by five children climbing up his back and over his shoulders. ¡°You¡¯ve given me and my family more than I could ever ask for, Ripper,¡± he said, looking stern in the way that some men do to prevent a sudden outburst of tears. ¡°I owe you a debt I can¡¯t even begin to repay.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it,¡± she shrugged, thinking that¡¯s what taxes are for, I think. ¡°But there is one small thing you could help me out with - just a bit of detective work I''m doing.¡± He nodded fiercely, the toddler strapped to his chest wobbling up and down with him. ¡°Anything at all,¡± he said. ¡°Have you heard about the Holy Resistance?¡± she asked. He looked briefly befuddled, so she went into detail. ¡°Big chunky guys in metal kneepads spewing backwards ideas about necromancy? ¡°Ah. Right," he said, recognition dawning. "A few came through here a few days back. Our people aren¡¯t too fond of Holy Heads either, so they didn¡¯t bother giving their whole recruitment shtick ¨C they just dropped a can of propaganda posters and ran out of town.¡± He eyed Cedric¡¯s bridge. ¡°Think most of them got dumped in the river.¡± Momo turned towards the stream. Her face fell when she saw that Cedric and Junior had fully abandoned their post. Discarded cans, bottles, pizza boxes and all other varieties of garbage now bobbed up and down in the water, muddying the creek. ¡°It¡¯s only been four hours,¡± she balked. ¡°How is there already so much trash?¡± Tenderscales shrugged. ¡°The moglis were also the city janitors. And the peacekeepers. And the handymen. Speaking of, do you think we could keep that skelecrew of yours? Would only be right, considering you got rid of our only two assemblymen.¡± Momo grimaced. ¡°Wait ¨C didn¡¯t you want them gone?¡± ¡°Of course,¡± he said, certain like only a father of six could be. ¡°But that doesn¡¯t excuse you for firing them.¡± ¡ª ¡°What do I do if I don¡¯t like my citizens, Radu?¡± ¡°Get into a new line of work, probably.¡± ¡°But I only just started a few weeks ago,¡± Momo sighed. ¡°That¡¯s no time to quit a job. How am I going to explain the gap in my resume?¡± ¡°What the hell is a resume?¡± The two, with the addition of Grimli, who had become attached to them like one of those too-tight bracelets you couldn¡¯t remove, even when threatened by airport security, bid adieu to the town of nomads and campers and trailed back towards their horses. As Momo fiddled with Nightmare¡¯s saddle, which had been impaled by several thorny branches, a piece of parchment threatened to impale her through the face.
Cult of Personality Activated! You have gained 1 new Loyal Follower, Grimli Copperstrings. You can order Grimli to do your bidding, pay tribute, or go on missions.
¡°What¡¯s all this about?¡± she mumbled. From the corner of her eye, Momo could see Grimli receive his own courier. He whistled happily, tapping his little feet to a non-existent piece of music. Momo gazed over his shoulder to peer at what got him so excited.
Having shown your exuberant allegiance towards Queen Momo the Ripper, you have been chosen to become her Loyal Follower. If you choose to accept, you will receive the following bonuses:
  • Complimentary Momo¡¯s Campaign Trail! T-Shirt
  • Complimentary Momo¡¯s Campaign Trail! Hat
  • 50 gold
Eternal Devotion & Employment Terms apply.
This seems like a terrible deal, Momo thought. ¡°What an incredible gift!¡± Grimli squealed. After he accepted, the shirt and hat manifested out of thin air, falling out of spacetime and into his open palms. ¡°What a spectacular piece of merchandise!¡± He wrestled into the t-shirt immediately, and Momo felt her dignity further vanish into the abyss. On the front of the shirt, printed in big, blocky, horrendous text, was a speech bubble that read RESURRECT YOUR FAITH IN GOVERNMENT! followed by Campaign promises that never die. Grimli grinned as he twirled around, saying ¡°check out the back.¡± ¡°Who did they get to design this?¡± Momo groaned. Drawn in the style of a band tour shirt, a badly painted portrait of Momo giving a double-thumbs up was accompanied by all of the campaign trail¡¯s various stops. First on the list was Jarvirium, obviously, then followed by Refuge¡¯s End, and after that¡­ Viktor Mole City? ¡°Wait,¡± Momo paused, her stomach dropping. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t that say Nam¡¯Dal?¡± 153 - The Holy Bird With Dragon Duties to attend to, Radu was forced to return to Drachenheim for the day, leaving only Momo and her straight-jacket of a bard to anxiously chart the course towards Nam¡¯Dal. Luckily, leaving Refuge¡¯s End was far more straightforward than arriving, so it wasn¡¯t long until Momo saw the familiar silhouette of the island city. ¡°Can you loosen your grip? You¡¯re suffocating me,¡± Momo pleaded with Grimli as they approached the northern gate. His distaste for horses was manifesting in his hands, which were gripping Momo¡¯s stomach like he was performing a heimlich maneuver. ¡°Oh dear! My strongest apologies, my Queen,¡± he squeaked. He loosened his grip a bit, but quickly regretted it, nearly falling halfway off the horse. ¡°By Kyros, I¡¯m not used to traveling on these creatures. They¡¯re so long and tall.¡± His hands resuming their stomach-chokehold, Momo grimaced. ¡°But aren¡¯t you always traveling? How do you get around without a horse?¡± she asked. ¡°Dwarven engineering, my royal highness. Dwarves travel by only the finest of contraptions.¡± ¡°I see,¡± Momo said, trying and failing to imagine such a device. ¡°And where exactly is yours?¡± Grimli stilled, and he cleared his throat. ¡°Stolen from me on the roads,¡± he said miserably. ¡°A true travesty. By some good-for-nothing grimy thief. That¡¯s why I was forced to join up with the Holy Resistance. I had no other means of transportation, and my money had run thin as a wafer.¡± Momo hummed. ¡°Well, if it was a thief, you might just find them inside here,¡± she theorized. ¡°I can ask Teddy about it. Maybe we can get your¡­ contraption back.¡± Grimli''s eyes went glazy and he gripped her stomach even tighter. ¡°Oh Queen Momo, you are simply the best.¡± ¡°You¡¯rechokingme.¡± ¡ª Awaiting them at the northern gates were two highly unusual specimens, at least for the city of Nam¡¯Dal. They looked to be monks, with bright yellow robes draped over their chests. They wore feathery cowls, with white, birdly plumes sticking out of every side of their head like juts of uneven hair. ¡°Bu-cuawk! Welcome to Mole City, traveler, Home of the Holiest Chicken,¡± the leftmost monk greeted. ¡°I am Brother Hencrest, and this is Brother Cluckfeather. We humbly welcome you to Alois¡¯s most magnificent aviary metropolis.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry ¨C what?¡± Momo said, losing all grasp of reality as she stared at their feathered caps. ¡°The last time I checked, this place was called Nam¡¯Dal.¡± ¡°Ah, bu-cuawk, I see you have been gone for a long time, traveler,¡± said Brother Cluckfeather. ¡°Nam¡¯Dal is the former name of this holiest of cities, from the Before Time when The Holy Chicken Baryte had not yet evolved.¡± Baryte? Momo¡¯s jaw dropped. Oh god. The chicken. A flash of memory crossed her mind as she recounted the days before she left for the Oblivion Quest. Viktor¡¯s chicken. She remembered how it was floating around the room and acting oddly; it had eaten some genuine baryte out of Viktor¡¯s stash, and Viktor offhandedly mentioned it might be evolving into something. Brother Hencrest offered her a pamphlet, which included a map and a legend for each of Mole City¡¯s most popular landmarks. Momo grimaced, not enjoying the way his feathery mittens dragged along her skin as he placed it in her hand. ¡°May I recommend a few popular attractions for new visitors?¡± he said. Without waiting for a response, he continued, pointing his talons at different landmarks, ¡°at the center of the city you¡¯ll find the Hen House of Worship. Then, take a stroll through the Old Town towards the Sacred Coop, the Avian Altar, and the Feathered Hall of Reverence.¡± The map looked nothing like Momo remembered it. The raven district was completely gone, Dumpling Hall had been refurbished into Mole Headquarters, and the Thieves¡¯ Guild''s central operations had been minimized and siloed into a small corner of the city, labeled Old Nam¡¯Dal. A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. ¡°And remember,¡± Brother Hencrest said, leaning so close to Momo that she could feel his hot, earthy breath on her face. ¡°Sir Mole is always watching.¡± ¡ª ¡°Oh, wow,¡± Momo mumbled. ¡°Viktor has truly lost it.¡± Momo¡¯s mouth remained agape the entire time as they walked into the city, stepping slowly and cautiously so as not to squash any wandering chickens. The place was no longer a city ¨C it had become an absolute farm. It smelled intensely of wheat and barley and oats, seeds and grains and small insects. Chicken food. Momo had heard plenty of jokes growing up about how Ohio had more cows than people, but this was another thing entirely; the abundance of cows were instead an invasive army of chickens, and the people were ravens and lizards and dwarves; the townspeople were no longer cloaked in dark loins and violent mystique, but instead grass and dirt and feathers. It was jolting and revolting all at once. ¡°Spare change for a poor piece of poultry?¡± a raven-headed woman asked. She was sitting cross-legged on the ground near what used to be the raven district. Even the Third Street Inn hadn¡¯t survived the Chickening; it was pulled apart for pieces, converted into various coops and chicken stalls. ¡°Here you are,¡± Momo said quietly, squatting down to offer her a bundle of coins. The woman bowed thankfully, coughing up a white feather. ¡°What happened to this place?¡± ¡°This place?¡± she wheezed, her voice chalky like an old smoker. ¡°Damnation is what happened here. Colonization. The ravens have lost everything. He has taken all.¡± Momo furrowed her eyebrows. ¡°He?¡± She raised a trembling finger towards the horizon. Momo followed her gaze backwards, and that''s when she saw it ¨C a tower, as thin and tall as a giant needle, with a marble chicken placed atop it like a pencil eraser. A sole window sat at the tippity top, the shades drawn. It was the only visible entrance to the entire thing. Whoever lives there obviously doesn¡¯t want visitors, Momo thought. ¡°Him,¡± the woman confirmed. ¡°The destroyer of raven-kind. Mole man.¡± Oh. ¡ª When someone shows you who they are, believe them. That was Justin Kennedy¡¯s high school yearbook quote. Momo hadn¡¯t thought about it once since graduating; not until this very moment, gazing upon the base of the world¡¯s gaudiest tower. Morgana had warned her about Viktor; the Goddess of Creation herself had gone out of her way to say yeah, this guy is bad news, and yet she didn¡¯t listen. Her stupid, impossibly naive everybody deserves three chances attitude had gotten her here ¨C and now she had to deal with the foul, err, fowl, consequences. ¡°Alright, Mole Man. I¡¯m coming up,¡± Momo grumbled. ¡°Boss,¡± Grimli said quietly. ¡°Not that I ever want to question your ways, as they are always fabulous and never wrong, but how do you intend to climb this tower, exactly?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t,¡± Momo said. ¡°But if Viktor comes flying out the window, can you make sure to catch him? I want to teach him a lesson, not kill him.¡± Grimli stared at her like one might stare at monkey juggling at the circus. ¡°I¡¯ll take that as a yes,¡± she sighed. She looked upwards, towards the tower''s infinite height. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s try this bad boy out. I suggest you look away. I doubt this looks cute from an outside perspective.¡± ¡°Sure thing, boss, sure thing.¡± He clapped his hands over her eyes. She inhaled. ¡°[Polymorph ¨C Nether Imp].¡± The contortions were of a familiar kind; her limbs shortened, her body squashed. What felt different was the sensation exploding from her palms. An intense warmth. Like she was hovering her hand gently over a fire. Distant enough not to burn, but still hot to the touch. Next came the wings, short and stubby but fluttering as fast as a rocket. Then the tail, a whip she could fire back and forth at will. Fun. She practiced doing just that for a second, giggling as she twirled around. She felt, for a brief second, like a kid again. Knees bathed in dirt, playing fairies with her classmates on the playground. Back then it had only been fantasy. Now she wasn''t just throwing pebbles and waving her fingers around and calling it magic. It was magic. She could shoot real, genuine fire out of her hands, and she was ruling an entire nation. A whole queendom. ¡°I wish Alois had therapists,¡± she mumbled. ¡°I have so much to process.¡± ¨C She fluttered casually up towards the window ledge, taking in the view of Nam¡¯Dal below her. She refused to refer to it as its new, bastardized name. The city held too much sentimental value to her; it contained so many firsts ¨C her first proper friend in Alois, her first government revolution. It twisted her gut to see it in such a state. She arrived at the window and drew the drapes. To her surprise, there was no window pane shielding the inside. She flew in with the wind, smelling the chamber before she could see it. Bird food. It was the same scent as the outside, only intensely concentrated. Inside was a small study, cluttered with equal amounts of books as grains. At the center of it, bent over a large table, was a short, hooded figure. An overgrown gray beard poked out of the cloaked man¡¯s cowl, untamed locks of hair fleeing from his head. That has to be Viktor, Momo thought, landing on a stack of books. God. He looks terrible. ¡°Oh, Baryte, what have I done¡­¡± Viktor groaned. Is he talking to the bird? Unbeknownst to him, Momo floated up behind him and peeked over his shoulder. And, oh no. Laying on the table was a very, very undead chicken. 154 - The Fall of Birdkind Viktor¡¯s table looked like the sight of a mad scientist¡¯s experiment. Feathers were strewn around the defunct bird in a circle, as if they had exploded off of him in a sudden rush. All that remained was a plucky skeleton which looked up at Viktor with bewilderment. ¡°Oh, my precious little Baryte,¡± Viktor mewled, scooping the boney bird into his arms. His voice was hoarse and croaky, like he had just swallowed a gallon of water down the wrong pipe. ¡°It¡¯s okay. Shhh. You soared too close to the sun this time, my feathered angel. But I¡¯m here for you.¡± ¡°Bu-cuawk?¡± ¡°Yes. Yes. Bu-cuawk, indeed, my perfect boy.¡± ¡°Viktor?¡± Momo regretted intruding on such a personal moment between a man and his bird, but Viktor very rarely lended himself to non-interruptible moments. The man was constantly caught in-between regrettable actions, like a man slipping endlessly on an icy driveway but never quite regaining his balance. Viktor whipped around, his mouth hanging from his jaw and his eyebrows nearly flying off his face. He looked like a man caught in a crime ¨C and he quite probably was. Only Momo wasn¡¯t sure which crime to start with. I guess I get to decide what is and isn¡¯t a crime now, it occurred to Momo. Weird. ¡°A Nether demon! Baryte, don¡¯t look! Shield yourself!¡± Viktor clasped a hand over Baryte¡¯s notably empty eye sockets. ¡°Oh, oops,¡± Momo said. She forgot she was Imp-ed up. ¡°[Demorph].¡± Viktor gasped as Momo¡¯s natural form appeared. His eyes went first to her horns, then her face. After a moment, he let out a long breath. ¡°Oh, it¡¯s only you,¡± he said. ¡°What a relief. I thought I would have to defend my dear chicken from the wrath of a real threat.¡± A real threat? She hadn¡¯t grown literal horns to be disrespected like this. ¡°Seriously?¡± she mumbled, mildly incensed. ¡°The new queen of Morgana¡¯s Mortal Queendom upon Alois showing up unannounced at your window isn¡¯t threatening at all to you?¡± ¡°Oh, is that what you¡¯re referring to yourself as now? How endearing.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not referring to myself as that. I¡¯m literally that ¨C¡± Ignoring her, Viktor petted the top of Baryte¡¯s head, cooing softly to him. ¡°Oh, Baryte, how lucky we are today. Our dear friend Momo, who we saved from such unfortunate circumstances when she first arrived on this plane, has once again come to repay us with her kindness.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not what I¡¯m here for, Viktor.¡± Viktor looked up from the bird¡¯s head, eyes narrowing. ¡°You¡¯re not?¡± he said. ¡°What else could you be here for? Money? I fear you¡¯re out of luck if that is the case. The construction of the Avian Altar and the Feathered Hall of Reverence went over-budget, and I¡¯m still waiting on the returns from the Hen House and the Sacred Coop to fund the next phase of expansion.¡± ¡°Next phase of expansion?¡± Momo groaned. ¡°No way. Viktor, why did you need four separate buildings dedicated to worshiping your bird? I could understand one ¨C I¡¯d do the same for Dusk ¨C but four?¡± Viktor gasped, affronted. ¡°Baryte is worthy of much more than four small, mortal-built structures. I take offense at this entire proposition. If this is how you want to treat my bird, then you can kindly leave.¡± Momo looked at him with as much respect as a preschool teacher affords a cranky toddler at nap time. The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°I¡¯m not going anywhere,¡± she said, doing her best to be resolute. ¡°I¡¯m ¨C I¡¯m handling this.¡± She tossed a few textbooks off of a dusty chair, pulled it in front of Viktor, then sat, facing him. ¡°I want to know everything that happened from when I left Nam¡¯Dal to right now,¡± Momo said, pointing an accusatory finger straight at his button nose. ¡°You have ten minutes.¡± ¡ª As it often goes with reality when compared to fiction, whatever insane scenario Momo could have dreamt up to happen since she left was far less ridiculous than the truth. ¡°I used the chicken to power the Sunbeam,¡± Viktor said, seemingly proud of this achievement in animal abuse. ¡°Baryte didn¡¯t mind at all. No, he was such a dear boy about it, very polite. Just in and out of the machine in a few minutes.¡± ¡°Are you serious?¡± Momo said for the first time in a very long upcoming series of times. ¡°Of course I am. I am a Mage. I would not lie about my magical feats,¡± he harrumphed. ¡°My research led me to discover that I could evolve Baryte to become more powerful than any source of natural magical power. By using the beast companion system, I have turned him into a Nuclear Bird, strong enough to power an entire city.¡± That gave Momo pause. ¡°Power an entire city? What do you mean?¡± ¡°Ah, dear Momo, your feeble, untrained mind will not understand,¡± he said, looking thoughtfully to the side like he was the subject of an interview. ¡°I have invented something called a Chickenductor. It causes magical currents of light to pass through waylines embedded in the soil, effortlessly powering machinery that previously required high levels of magic.¡± Waylines? Momo pursed her lips. Magical currents? What is he on about? ¡°My mind is understanding fine,¡± Momo lied, giving him a grave look. She breezed past the hilarity of Chickenductor, trying to hone in on his story like a shepherd herding sheep. ¡°I still don¡¯t see how this has to do with you completely destroying Nam¡¯Dal and turning it into a chicken-worshiping factory, though.¡± ¡°It has everything to do with it,¡± he argued, raising his hands dramatically upwards. ¡°You see, one of my agents discovered a piece of discarded dwarven engineering while doing field research on my behalf. When he returned it to me, I was able to use the Chickenductor to power it ¨C and the results were astonishing. It demonstrated the potential to change everything.¡± Dwarven engineering? That could be Grimli¡¯s vehicle, Momo thought immediately, her eyes widening. It didn¡¯t surprise her in the least that Viktor was the one to steal it ¨C sorry ¨C find it. But is he exaggerating the usual Viktor amount, or is there actually something that special about it? ¡°Anyway,¡± Viktor continued, playing nervously with the button of his cloak as he spoke. It was an uncharacteristically anxious tick for a typically confident-beyond-sanity man. ¡°Once I revealed the results to the public, they were immediately blown away by the sight. Their ignorant minds could barely handle what was in front of them. As a consequence, they founded a religion around my dear Baryte ¨C the Holy Chicken ¨C and I simply let them believe it. No harm, no foul.¡± So he stole a piece of dwarven technology, shoved his dynamite chicken inside of it, then used the result to emotionally manipulate the populace. Momo wasn¡¯t sure whether to be disgusted or impressed. She settled on disgusted. ¡°I think that¡¯s a lot of foul, actually,¡± Momo said dryly. ¡°You took advantage of their amazement and completely reshaped the city under their feet. That¡¯s terrible. You manipulated them.¡± ¡°Manipulated? What slander,¡± he huffed. ¡°I simply catered to their needs. They wanted an altar to pray to the chicken. I provided one. They wanted a temple to hold ceremonies, so I gave them that too. And so what if I required a membership to the Church of the Feather to enter those buildings? They were happy to provide. And so what if I needed to tear down a few buildings ¨C¡± ¡°Entire districts¨C¡± ¡°I needed space for more chicken coops! What else was I to do? Everybody in town suddenly wanted their own chicken. Good fortune, it¡¯s said to be. Good fortune to own your own chickadee. So I had to be a good mayor. I had to provide. Do you know how exhausting it is to field every single desire from every single citizen?¡± he said, pressing his hands to his cheeks and pulling at his skin. ¡°It¡¯s killing me. It¡¯s destroying me.¡± He looked down into the cradle of his arms. ¡°It killed my dear Baryte.¡± Momo worried her lip under her teeth. Her anger flared and faded abruptly, seeing that sorry look on his face. She felt an uncomfortable sort of recognition listening to him, like hearing a prophecy that hits a bit too close to home. That could be me, she thought. One wrong step, and she could be the Mole Man, caught in her tower of shame, a city of restless chickens screeching desperately from below. She was beginning to understand just how difficult it was to please the masses. Refuge¡¯s End had been a sampling; Mole City was a whole mouth-watering platter of chaos and distrust. While she didn¡¯t totally buy Viktor¡¯s pure, kingly intentions, the madness he had descended into was obviously not a front. It was a consequence. He had given his everything, his chicken, and then some. ¡°Look. I ¨C I get it. I don¡¯t love how you ended up here, but I¡¯m here now. We¡¯ll fix this,¡± Momo said softly, putting a hand over Baryte¡¯s face, cupping his skeletal cheek. ¡°Starting with the chicken.¡± 155 –The Bu-cuawk! Effect It turned out that the old proverb held true ¨C everything in life starts with the chicken. Or was it the egg? Not the time. Momo cleared her throat. Five thousand faces ¨C a healthy mix of eager grins and skeptical scowls ¨C stared at her from benches, rooftops, chimneys, coops, and street corners. The entirety of Mole City had been summoned to hear the word of the queen, and they had come in droves. The Old Town was stuffed to the brink, every townsperson and their chicken waiting to hear about supposed ¡°salvation.¡± At least, that was how Momo sold it. Banners throughout the city read off The Church of the Feather: Undead Salvation Awaits. It was a mediocre name for a C-list Hollywood film about zombie chickens, and an even worse name for a political event, but it was the best she could come up with under pressure. But it worked; the turnout turned out. Her hands grabbed fruitlessly at the edges of the podium, too sweaty to get a good grip. She could feel nausea nipping at her neck. I¡¯m going to make Viktor into the new Court Jester for this. For all the times she¡¯d done it since she got to Alois, Momo still hated lying. And this was about to be her biggest, stupidest deceit yet. If it wasn¡¯t clear from the way she was shaking in her clogs and unconsciously twitching her eye, she wasn¡¯t exactly crazy about the solution she was forced to choose for this particular political problem. The Counter-Brainwash Brainwash Strategy, she had self-dubbed it. It entailed, to her grave dismay, taking advantage of Viktor¡¯s societal mindgames. Despite the moral complications, Momo had quickly come to realize just how powerful the stupid religion Viktor had cultivated really was. All it took was one quick look at the city¡¯s page in her courier.
Mole City ¨C De Jure Holding Control Rating: 40%
  • 10% from fear-based positive association with Viktor Mole
  • 30% from neutral association with Baryte the chicken
  • -70% from Viktor Mole¡¯s negative association with everyone else
  • 75% of the residents are under The Church of the Feather¡¯s [Bu-cuawk!] effect, which makes them solely loyal to the teachings of Baryte the chicken.
  • 25% of the non-affiliated residents are still living under the doctrine of King Jarva. Due to Kyros¡¯s [Brainwash] Area of Effect spell over all of Jarva¡¯s holdings, residents are initially predisposed to hate you, even if they didn¡¯t like Jarva much.
The [Bu-cuawk!] effect. It effectively canceled out [Brainwash], loosening up Jarva¡¯s hold on the people. Or rather transferring it to a bird, but Momo tried not to think about that. So the plan was as follows: 1) Align herself with the bird, and 2) reduce that 25% residual loyalty to 0. Total religious control, with Momo as Baryte¡¯s human spokesperson. She¡¯d figure out the ethics of it later. ¡°Hello citizens,¡± she whispered into the wand-microphone. The crowd¡¯s murmuring dulled, their attention turning to her. ¡°You might recognize me from a few months ago. I go by Momo. Had a brief stint as the Ruler of Nam¡¯Dal. Had to go run some errands.¡± Some laughs ¨C a lot of silence. Tough crowd. ¡°It was a pleasure being your mayor for thirty-two days. Today, I come back to you as something a little different¡­ your queen.¡± Judging by the disjointed applause, it seemed a few Momo sympathizers did still remain even amongst the disaffected crowd. That reassured her slightly, but it still was nowhere near enough of a majority for her to use pure ethos to get them on her side. Too much had changed since she left; too much resentment had sprouted in the city¡¯s cracks. Chicken strategy it is. She breathed deeply. Keep going. ¡°That¡¯s enough about me. Let¡¯s focus on the reason you all came here today,¡± she turned her body slightly, revealing an object on the stage behind her. ¡°Sitting just below this canopy, napping peacefully, is a chicken you might be familiar with. Goes by a name starting with B.¡± Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. A monk in yellow robes ¨C not one of the two brothers she recognized, but a different, somewhat sinister edition ¨C ascended a small platform in the city square and grabbed his own wand-megaphone. He had seemingly prepared it for this very occasion. ¡°Listen well, Ruler Momo, do not tempt us with falsities like He did, the dastardly Mole Man,¡± the monk shouted, his voice bellowing through the square. A group of sympathizers nodded in agreement below him, all dressed in the same shade of sunflower. ¡°We have paid our dues and deserve to see the feathered god. He has been hidden from us for so long, weeks upon weeks, months upon months, imprisoned in that tower by that man who calls himself our lord. Let us look upon him, new queen, let us see his face.¡± The monk created a turkey with his hand, then opened it, both palms facing outwards. The men below him did the same. It seemed to be some sort of cult-like hand signal. ¡°Lord Viktor has conducted no such imprisonment!¡± another monk countered. Momo recognized him to be Brother Hencrest, the excitable man she met at the gates. He was part of a different mass of yellow-robed clergymen standing several yards away, and he too had his own platform and wand-o-phone. ¡°He alone knows the secret to Baryte¡¯s powers. That is why we entrust in him the great bird, and do not question his absence.¡± Did they really both bring their own debate podiums? Momo thought bleakly. I thought this was supposed to be my campaign event. Not a face off between the two branches of the Crazy Feather. ¡°Entrust him we do not,¡± declared the opposing brother. ¡°All he gives us is altars to pray, shrines to patronize ¨C shameless money grabs and ponzi schemes that force us to pay for the illusion of a connection with our god. Yet we see nothing of the holy bird himself, praise be his many feathers. He remains caged in that tower. Caged!¡± Brother Hencrest scoffed. ¡°As Brothers of the Feather, it is not our responsibility to see the Holy one on this plane, but to connect with him through the spiritual,¡± he said, his voice rising steadily. ¡°And trust that our coin is going towards his blessed welfare.¡± He raised a pointed fist. ¡°Your impudent slander insults the chicken himself, Brother Plumequill.¡± Brother Plumequill gasped. ¡°Don¡¯t you dare suggest I would insult the Most Holy ¨C¡± ¡°I do not suggest it, I state it as fact ¨C¡± ¡°Citizens,¡± Momo said again, louder now. The brothers¡¯ red, furious heads pointed towards her. They were moments away from settling the debate with not-so-holy magic. ¡°Would you like to see the bird or not?¡± That did the job of quieting them ¨C but it seemed like an imperfect peace. She¡¯d need to act quickly. Momo stepped back and pinched the edge of the tarp. ¡°I will warn you,¡± she said, her nerves pricking. Now begins the hard part. ¡°Calling him the feathered god might be a bit of a misnomer these days.¡± With a swift pull, the tarp flew upwards. It revealed the frail, skeletal body of none other than Baryte himself, sitting politely on a stool and chewing on a cat toy Momo loaned him. ¡°Oh, dear sweet Nether, our god is dead!¡± Shrieks followed. Several clergymen fainted. The townspeople clogging the square began to chatter fearfully, some running backwards, others forward. Knees and elbows collided, faces fell to the cobblestone. It had all the trappings of something that was about to devolve into a very fatal crowd crush. Momo swallowed hard. Ok. Just like we practiced. ¡°[Crowd Control],¡± she murmured under her breath. She had tested the Demagogue skill before she went on stage, using Grimli and Viktor as her victims. She had them pretend to be fighting ¨C it didn¡¯t take much, they both had a fair share of ridiculously specific and antithetical opinions ¨C and then she snapped her fingers, cast the spell, and watched them go wide-eyed and drugged out. It was like giving toddlers xanax. Luckily, similar results occurred to the brethren. Both Hencrest and his opponent simultaneously agreed to give the squabbling a rest, deciding instead to gawk, slack jawed and dead-eyed, at their bony savior. The townsfolk too paused their thrashing, their knees and elbows falling into an amicable truce. Momo smiled. Now this is a much more manageable crowd. She hoisted Baryte upwards, displaying him in a Lion King-esque pose to the audience. ¡°Your savior, Baryte the Chicken, has entered a new stage of life ¨C the, uhh ¨C unlife. He died due to natural causes, but was revived by the healing power of necromancy so that he could continue to reign supreme and grant his holy blessings upon Alois,¡± Momo said, putting her bullshitting powers in full gear. ¡°Please bow to your, uh, chicken.¡± The [Crowd Control] did its part. Momo never saw bodies fly with such a quickness. Every yellow-coated man in the crowd flew to his knees; every child, woman and reptile took a kneel. Even the lesser chickens themselves squawked in awe and appreciation. ¡°Err¡­ well done,¡± she said, ushering them to stand. ¡°Now, for those who are still disbelievers¡­¡± She eyed the back border of the crowd, the restless twenty-five percent which were unconcerned about the chicken. The [Crowd Control] seemingly couldn¡¯t reach them ¨C either just by distance, or by ideology. She could see some of them turning to leave, others passing weapons and torches hand-to-hand. This could get really messy. ¡°Before you do something silly like stage a coup d¡¯etat,¡± Momo said with a smile. ¡°I think you¡¯ll want to see this. Viktor, please.¡± With a sharp, mechanical whine, wheels began rumbling across the stage like thunder cracking. Three skeletons helped Mr. Mole to push a beast of a vehicle towards her; it was as tall and as wide as a forklift, made of many interlocking copper gears, metal chains, gas valves and inscribed runic patterns. Where a driving wheel would naturally sit, was a hole. Momo stepped towards it, carrying Baryte. ¡°And you¡¯re sure this will work?¡± Momo whispered harshly at the wizard. ¡°Not in the slightest,¡± Viktor whispered back, smiling wildly. ¡°But I have full faith in my chicken.¡± Momo stared down at the skeletal bird, took in a breath, and shoved it in the machine. I hope everyone else will, too. 156 – Ms. Slythorn Baryte fit snugly in the vehicle¡¯s open crater, pecking at his wings and making a polite yawning sound. It was a very cute display, something Momo would have normally sat and awww¡¯d at, but unfortunately it represented a lack of something else ¨C a lack of anything happening at all. ¡°Viktor,¡± she said lowly, with a petrified tone. ¡°The bird is just sitting there.¡± The Jarva loyalists had begun to slither their way through the crowd, traveling briskly and strategically from the back to the very front. Oh god, what are those? Momo thought, noticing something she hadn¡¯t before. Slung over their shoulders were large, cylindrical, gun-like weapons that looked a bit like they might fire projectiles at entirely undodgeable speeds. The closer they got, the more she could make out the finer details of the weapons¡¯ silhouettes. They looked like mini bazookas, inscribed with etchings that Momo recognized from before, at the Holy Resistance camp. Eight purple tentacles painted over a gold weapon body. What the hell? They weren¡¯t carrying those before. Someone must have armed them, Momo deduced, her stomach turning at the realization. I need to get rid of the [Brainwash] effect before they try to bazooka my head off. ¡°Baryte, we¡¯re going to need to hurry this up¡­¡± she murmured, giving the chicken a very serious look, but then realized her anger was misdirected, and targeted it straight at Viktor Mole. The wizard was sweating profusely, maniacally running his hands through his beard. ¡°It ¨C it must be the lack of feathers,¡± Viktor mumbled insanely. ¡°The feathers served as conduits for the magical currents. Now he doesn¡¯t have them, and all that energy has nowhere to go. The godforsaken bird has been grounded.¡± ¡°What?¡± Momo squinted. ¡°Like he¡¯s in time-out?¡± ¡°No, not like time out. Like science ¨C¡± Grimli, who had previously been standing at the edge of the raised platform, his chest puffed out like a securityman, decided, finally, that this was the time for him to butt into the conversation. ¡°That¡¯s my vehicle, it is,¡± he said, pointing an accusatory finger at Viktor. ¡°And I don¡¯t consent to a chicken being stuffed into it. The valves and the levers and the doo dads have very specific ways of operating, none of which require a chicken, of that I¡¯m sure.¡± Viktor pointed a finger back, pressing it hard and firm to Grimli¡¯s chest. ¡°You clearly don¡¯t know a single thing about your own people¡¯s engineering. Valves and levers and doo dads ¨C gah! Dwarven engineering is based on one principle and one alone ¨C gnomic currents.¡± ¡°Of course I know about gnomic currents, you blasphemous poser,¡± Grimli said, flicking Viktor¡¯s hand away. ¡°I was best in my class in second grade Gnomenomics.¡± Viktor huffed. ¡°I find that hard to believe. Tell me then, what is a gnomic current, exactly?¡± ¡°Guys, I really don¡¯t think this is the time,¡± Momo said, her mind peeling towards insanity as she tried to steer the dire situation back on the road. ¡°Viktor, the people with their gun-things are getting closer.. I¡¯m going to need that chicken to do something ¨C¡± ¡°Now then, I¡¯ll tell you about currents and then some,¡± Grimli interjected, puffing his chest out again with renewed purpose. He pressed his finger to an exposed wire jutting out of the vehicle¡¯s hood. ¡°Dwarven engineering is powered by little gnomes that live inside these things. And when you plug these gnomish wires into a magical cube, or something of that energizing sort, and then plug the other end into a vehicle like this one that you so boldly thieved, the gnomes go run, run, running up the wire, hand in hand.¡± Momo¡¯s mouth fell open. Is he describing electricity? ¡°Yes, but,¡± Viktor interrupted, growing red in the face. He did not like being shown up. He much preferred showing off. ¡°My chicken is like a superconducting magical cube. A beast of boundless energy, you see. An organic gnomic nuclear force ¨C¡± A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. ¡°No way that¡¯s possible,¡± Grimli crossed his arms. ¡°Not a damn way. Dwarves would¡¯a figured it out already. We¡¯ve tried making a power source of out of damn near everything. Rocks, apples, cakes, aunts and uncles and little brothers.¡± ¡°But not baryte-infused chickens, have you?¡± That quieted Grimli, his face falling into a considering frown. ¡°Well, that¡¯s just animal abuse, ain¡¯t it?¡± ¡°The chicken ate the baryte himself! I didn¡¯t force anything about it ¨C¡± ¡°Choke and die, you stupid chicken!¡± Momo¡¯s face went pale just as a thunderous crackle erupted from the barrel of a bazooka. ¡°Baryte!¡± Viktor squealed. ¡°[Energy Absorption]!¡± Just as Momo feared, the projectile soared at air-splitting speeds, barely visible as it zipped through the air. She threw herself to the ground, expecting impact, but found that the rocket flew to the right of her and pierced straight through the vehicle, headed straight for the chicken within. Only, there was no dramatic explosion; no kapow that sent every gear and valve and limb flying to the streets. With a modest squawk, Baryte glowed yellow, his mouth open, and swallowed the thing hole. It didn¡¯t travel through his system. It simply evaporated, gold specks of magic sprinkling the air around him. ¡°What on Alois?¡± the gunman mumbled, staring blankly at the chicken. His compatriots were similarly befuddled, stilling with their bazookas in hand. ¡°It just ate it.¡± ¡°Bu-cuawk!¡± Baryte hiccuped, a yellow zip of what looked like electricity firing from his mouth. It caught onto one of the gnomic wires, and a hum began emanating from the vehicle. Gears began to churn, metal flaps on the car¡¯s hood began to open and close like the snapping mouth of a shark. ¡°It¡¯s working!¡± Viktor cried, raising his hands victoriously. ¡°All of you disbelievers, witness the greatness of your god!¡± The forklift-like vehicle whirred to life. It was all in all a ridiculous sight ¨C a giant machine operated by an unknowing bird, flightless and dumb and still chewing on the remains of the bazooka ammo. The runes on the vehicle glowed bright white, and it began to slowly churn across the stage, moving at the speed of a heavily armored turtle. ¡°You idiots! I told you to fire at the girl, not the chicken!¡± Momo¡¯s eyes snapped to a voice calling from deeper within the crowd. It originated from a woman wearing a white, full-face covering mask, with only two holes for the eyes. A headdress sat over her cloaked face: eight purple tentacles, falling over her shoulders. The insignia of the Holy Resistance come alive. The voice sounded eerily familiar to her somehow ¨C like she could nearly place it, but not quite. ¡°But Ms. Slythorn, the chicken is a far greater affront to Kyros. He is a false god,¡± the gunman said, but then faltered, looking back at the glowing, rumbling machinery. ¡°Or perhaps a real one¡­¡± Slythorn. Momo nearly choked on her spit. That was one of the names Grimli mentioned ¨C one of the three Knights of the Sun that were orchestrating the Holy Resistance. She was here, in the flesh. ¡°The chicken is a distraction. Destroy the girl!¡± ¡°This is bad,¡± Momo said, frantically turning to Viktor and Grimli. Viktor was notably absent ¨C busy chasing his chicken around the stage. ¡°I don¡¯t know how to avoid bazookas without hurting the civilians.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t think you¡¯re going to have that problem, your highness,¡± Grimli said, a smidgen of disgust in his voice as he stared at the chicken-run vehicle. ¡°It seems they¡¯ve been convinced.¡± Momo looked again towards the front of the audience, noting that the bazookas had been completely abandoned. The dissenters had joined the rest of the spellbound audience, bowing, screaming and cheering as the chicken performed a U-turn at the edge of the stage, piloting the dwarven vehicle like a Formula 1 Driver. At that moment, it appeared she and Slythorn had the same thought. ¡°Give me my backpack,¡± Momo ordered Grimli, who was wearing it on his back. He shimmied it off with urgency, tossing it to her. Momo slung it over her shoulders and jumped off the stage, [Death Monkey Leap]ing into the crowd where the bazookas lay. Disappearing in and out of sight with a supernatural quickness, Slythorn met her there at the same time; they both urgently reached for a gun, rearing up and pointing them at each other simultaneously like two cowboys at a standoff. Momo grunted miserably, the weight of the gun way heavier than she was used to carrying. She was a magic user, not a heavy weapon maestro. Neither was Slythorn, it appeared, who was swaying slightly as she tried to steady the weapon. ¡°I really don¡¯t want to fire this thing,¡± Momo pleaded. And I have no idea how to, she didn¡¯t add. ¡°You don¡¯t have to do this.¡± Slythorn stared at her, silent. She had seemed so in control before, so easily authoritative, but something about Momo gave her pause. Through the small cuts in the mask, Momo could see her eyes squinting with indecision, almost painfully so. ¡°But I do,¡± Slythorn said. Her voice was darker and deeper now, kind of like she was doing a bad Batman impression. ¡°You just had to go and mess things up again, Momo.¡± Momo froze. ¡°What? Again? Do I know you?¡± Slythorn shook her head. ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter now. Tell Valerica I say hi once you hit the Nether, won¡¯t you?¡± ¡°Wait, how do you know Valeri ¨C¡± Slythorn squeezed the trigger. [Bauble Emporium’s One Day Bauble Trading Event]
WELCOME TO THE BAUBLE EMPORIUM¡¯S ONE-DAY ONLY BAUBLE TRADING EVENT. HOSTED BY THE ESTEEMED EXCALIBUR BAUBLE, THIS EVENT IS INTENDED FOR CITIZENS ACROSS THE ALOYSIAN COMMENT SECTION TO ACCRUE BAUBLIAN WEALTH BY TRADING VARIOUS BAUBLES. This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. RULES: 1. You start with any baubles you¡¯ve accrued previously, or if you haven¡¯t accrued a bauble, you can purchase one by saying PURCHASE in the comments. A member of the bauble emporium will then assign you a bauble. 2. You may post a TRADE OFFER in the comments with your bauble and you may make various deals in the comment thread. 3. Do not trust any false prophets of the bauble emporium. Real employees will be identifiable by their badge. Have fun!
157 – Cut From the Same Cloth Her eyes affixed to the tip of Slythorn¡¯s bazooka, Momo yelled ¡°[Possess]!¡± She felt a pull at her navel as her soul was sucked out of her body and into the gun. She had forgotten just how weird it felt to inhabit something inanimate. It was like shoving yourself into a suitcase. Her skin became a hard, metallic shell; her head became the gun¡¯s open barrel. She could feel Slythorn¡¯s fingers wrapping around the trigger, pressing down repeatedly to no avail. ¡°Stupid thing, work!¡± With a groan, Slythorn looked up. ¡°Wait, where did she go?¡± she said, whipping her head around. ¡°Right here!¡± Shoving herself forward, Momo flung out of Slythorn¡¯s grasp. She collided hard with the cobblestone, a weird sort of pain rushing into her as a dent welled up in her side. She quickly recovered, flipping herself around several times until she landed on the stock, the barrel of the bazooka pointed back at Slythorn. ¡°I¡¯ll shoot,¡± Momo mumbled, trying to sound threatening. ¡°So you better not try anything.¡± Slythorn just stared at her ¨C completely gobsmacked. She seemed unsure of what to do next. ¡°This is ridiculous,¡± she said finally. ¡°I¡¯m not playing chicken with some talking gun.¡± She raised her sleeve to her mouth, revealing a section of skin with a golden bracelet attached at her wrist. She spoke towards the bracelet as if she were talking through a walkie talkie. ¡°Bellafor, I¡¯m done here. I can¡¯t neutralize the target with the bazooka. She has some sort of new¡­ possessing power,¡± Slythorn said bitterly. ¡°And I don¡¯t feel like wasting my Holy charges exercising her soul out of it.¡± She lowered her wrist again, the message complete, and gave Momo a final glare. ¡°You¡¯re only making this harder for yourself, you know,¡± she said, almost like a warning. ¡°We could strike a deal, and this would all be over.¡± That gave Momo pause, the wheels of her brain turning. She didn¡¯t expect any of this to be open to negotiation. ¡°Wait. A deal? What kind of deal?¡± ¡°The kind where you turn over your new Queendom to us. The Holy Resistance is not so different from you as you may think,¡± she said slowly. ¡°We¡¯re cut from the same cloth.¡± ¡°No offense,¡± Momo said. ¡°But I find that hard to believe.¡± From under her mask, Slythorn laughed darkly. ¡°I could see why. The tentacles are a bit much,¡± she said. ¡°But you¡¯ll see in time. It makes no difference if I kill you right now or kill you later. The seeds we¡¯re sowing will come to fruition regardless.¡± Seeing no point in elaborating, she turned on her heel. ¡°It¡¯ll be just like old times, Momo,¡± she sing-songed. ¡°I¡¯ll lay a plan, and you¡¯ll obediently follow.¡± ¡°What? Wait ¨C¡± Slythorn disappeared into the crowd, her body absorbed into the bowing and cheering masses. Momo [Demorphed], pushing through body upon body to find her, but she was already gone. ¡ª ¡°I¡¯m so lost,¡± Momo groaned, putting her head in her hands. ¡°Why are you complaining? You won,¡± Radu said, pouring hot tea into a cup. Matcha ¨C Momo¡¯s favorite, and the only one he kept in his room in Drachenheim. ¡°The people are now obsessed with a chicken.¡± The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Momo glared at him. ¡°That wasn¡¯t exactly my main goal.¡± After the campaign event wrapped up, the chicken was safely retrieved from the vehicle, the vehicle was safely stolen back by Grimli, and Momo made the journey back to Drachenheim, insisting that she meet with Radu about business. The business in question ¨C tea time. They sat cross-legged in the Heir¡¯s room, a chamber reserved solely for the one to inherit the Dragon¡¯s power. Radu wasn¡¯t a huge fan of the place ¨C way too many relatives hanging from the walls watching him at all times ¨C but he had made it his own, obscuring their faces with wood panels and bringing in his favorite collection of knives. ¡°The way you tell it, it definitely was,¡± Radu laughed. ¡°You realized it was the fastest way to get them on your side, and you did it. Conniving. A bit twisted. It¡¯s the Momo I know and love.¡± Momo frowned. Valerica better be hearing this. ¡°Okay, fine, I did want them to join the chicken cult, or whatever,¡± she sighed. ¡°And it worked. Even the dissenters changed sides ¨C I have a 100% control rating on the city now.¡± ¡°Toast to that,¡± he said, clinking their tea glasses. ¡°But,¡± she emphasized, taking a sip and burning her tongue. ¡°Ow. Hot, hot.¡± ¡°Why do you always do that? You know it¡¯s going to be hot, but you drink it anyway.¡± ¡°I¡¯m impatient,¡± she said, biting her lip. ¡°That¡¯s true. On many fronts. I¡¯ve never seen someone rush into so many different political strategies before. Populism. Religious dictatorship. You¡¯re going to be in such a mess by the end of this, I don¡¯t even know if I can watch.¡± ¡°Shut up,¡± Momo mumbled, knowing somewhere deep inside that he was probably right. ¡°Just let me get to my point.¡± ¡°Okay, okay.¡± ¡°This woman who goes by Slythorn showed up. One of the remaining Knights of the Sun, apparently. She armed a bunch of the dissenters with bazookas, ordered them to kill me ¨C but her plan went up into flames, yada yada.¡± ¡°As a sensible plan always does when exposed to Momo.¡± She ignored that. ¡°But when I confronted her, she backed down pretty easily. Once she realized she couldn¡¯t kill me with one of the bazooka guns, she just gave up. Something about not wanting to use her Holy charges?¡± Radu scrunched his nose. ¡°Charges? That¡¯s weird. Charges are a limited resource that things like armor and weapons have.¡± Momo shrugged. ¡°Yeah. I don¡¯t know. And then she gave me this whole spiel on how I could just hand over the keys to the Queendom to her, and that we¡¯re more similar than we think. And she kept saying we know each other ¨C that I was going to repeat history somehow.¡± Radu¡¯s confusion mounted. ¡°That is really weird.¡± ¡°I know.¡± ¡°Any idea who it is?¡± ¡°No clue,¡± Momo sighed. ¡°I¡¯m so bad with voices. And faces. And remembering things.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not very helpful, no.¡± ¡°But I did receive this,¡± Momo said, pulling out a courier from her pocket. ¡°So at least there¡¯s that.¡±
Congratulations! Your holding, [Occupied Jarvirium], has ranked up to Rank 6 due to your improvements to liveability, infrastructure, and citizen happiness. The city¡¯s chosen deity, Morgana, has awarded the city a [Legendary] perk. [Great Wall of Nether]: A giant, impenetrable wall of Nether now surrounds the city. All attacks with Holy magic will be nullified on impact.
¡°Oh, that¡¯s niiice,¡± Radu said. ¡°Looks like Slythorn and her buddies won¡¯t be having an easy time, then. Jarva neither, in case he tries to stage a little return party.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± Momo mumbled, still a bit solemn. ¡°It does make me feel better to know Sumire is more protected. But I still feel bad about leaving her ¨C I mean, everyone ¨C in such a defenseless position while I¡¯m on the road.¡± Radu gave her an uncharacteristically genuine smile, and gave her shoulder a squeeze. ¡°Loosen up, Ripper,¡± he said. ¡°You don¡¯t have to claim to care about everyone when I know it¡¯s just about her.¡± She scoffed, blushing. ¡°That¡¯s not true.¡± ¡°It¡¯s a little bit true,¡± he said, leaning back to blow the steam off his tea. ¡°But either way, you¡¯re doing the right thing ¨C and the thing Sumire told you to do, if you recall. The only way to get this crazy continent on your side is by meeting the people where they are, and you¡¯re meeting them there, and then some.¡± He winked. ¡°The then some wasn¡¯t necessary,¡± she muttered, taking another experimental sip. It had cooled off a bit, and she swallowed it down greedily. She needed the calm ¨C the tranquility. ¡°I¡¯m just¡­ nervous, is all. I¡¯ve never been good with uncertainty. It gives me indigestion.¡± ¡°The next few months is going to be one long tummy ache, then,¡± he laughed. She groaned. ¡ª ¡°Where¡¯s our next tour stop, boss?¡± Grimli strummed a few chords idly in the backseat of their new carriage. They were forced to rent it to transport the dwarven vehicle, which was much too heavy for Nightmare to troll along with. Momo had wanted to stay in Mole City longer and hunt down her old friends from the Thieves Guild, but the tour schedule reigned supreme. Momo sighed, reading the next stop off the back of Grimli¡¯s t-shirt. It hadn¡¯t seemed to occur to him that he could take it off and read the dates himself. ¡°Ever heard of a little town named Bruda?¡± 158 – Deadly Dance Recital ¡°This is hell,¡± Momo said quietly, reflectively. ¡°This is genuinely hell.¡± ¡°You have no idea,¡± Trent said. When Momo strolled into town three hours earlier, she had expected a normal campaign event. People huddled around town square. A couple decorations. Locals either applauding her or trying to stab her guts out. You know the drill. What she got instead was a personal invitation to something called Bruda¡¯s Deadly Dance Recital, a new tradition in the mountaintop city ¨C hosted and suggested by you can guess who ¨C that happened every 19th day of each of season. Today just so happened to be that day. Momo was provided the invitation by none other than an old frenemy, Trent Magelegs. The boy had aged considerably since they last saw each other ¨C grown a few inches, made the awful mistake of keeping the puberty mustache, experimented with vests. Momo kept her feedback on his new unfortunate appearance to herself, because she¡¯s a kind person at heart - and more importantly, a coward. Trent had led her into the New School of Dance, an organically-built four-story building made of wood and rock. It stood out like a sore thumb in the traditionalist town, but if people minded, they didn¡¯t complain. Momo got the sense that whatever protests Bruda''s citizens might have had months ago, they had grown too tired to voice. Devola had that effect on people. ¡°Momo, I said first position, not third,¡± Devola corrected. ¡°Heels together, toes turned out. Create a straight line with your feet, straighter than a ruler.¡± Momo grimaced and altered her position for the fourth time. It wasn¡¯t her flexibility or coordination that was the problem ¨C she had way too much Dexterity for that to be an excuse ¨C it was her innate lack of... Dance Confidence. Performance, to put it more politically. See, she had never taken a dance class in her life. Too embarrassing. All those people watching. Terrifying, really. Her only exposure to the act came from the dance tapes her mom bought on VHS and left playing on loop when she went out in the garden. Momo''s greatest experience with rhythm was her mimicking Jane Fonda, throwing her nine-year-old hips around until her mom caught her through the window. Momo straightened her back instinctively. ¡°Wonderful form,¡± Devola said, teleporting behind her and putting her hands over Momo¡¯s shoulders. ¡°Now, relax the tension here¡­¡± she pinched her neck, and Momo felt a sharp pain run down her spine. ¡°Perfect. You¡¯re a natural, Momo. Just so perfectly rigid.¡± Trent looked at her jealously. Momo wanted to throw herself out of the closest window. ¡°Your friend here, however, needs quite a bit of work,¡± Devola said, looking askance at Grimli, who was failing to even reach his toes. ¡°He¡¯s no taller than a stepping stool but can barely touch his knees. A tragedy.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t take kindly to your jokes,¡± Grimli said. ¡°You misunderstand me. That was not a joke," she huffed. "And I don¡¯t take kindly to your lack of flexibility.¡± ¡°Alright, Devola, that¡¯s enough,¡± Momo mumbled, exiting first position with a sigh. ¡°I did your warmups. Now I¡¯m really going to need you to tell me what a Deadly Dance Recital is,¡± Momo stretched her arms, breathing out as the tension left her. ¡°And what it has to do with me.¡± You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. ¡°Oh, dear, not everything is about you,¡± Devola laughed, beckoning for a skeleton in the corner of the room. He was dressed in a pink flamingo tank top and booty shorts, as if he had just fled the pages of Undead Idol Magazine. ¡°In fact, it was your dear Sumire that decided to have you come on this specific day despite my warnings.¡± Momo blushed at Devola¡¯s usage of your. The blush quickly left her as she realized Sumire had set her up. ¡°What do you mean, warnings?¡± Momo said dryly. The Ken-looking skeleton skirted around Momo to Trent. Momo gawked as the two began to do a choreographed pair dance ¨C the skeleton bouncing off the floor with spins and cartwheels, Trent following along with his own succession of flips. It was like watching a Halloween edition of a breakdance competition. My brain can¡¯t handle this, Momo thought. ¡°My warning was very clear. Everyone who is in town for the recital must compete,¡± Devola said flatly. ¡°You¡¯re in town, so you will have to compete, too.¡± ¡°I ¨C what?¡± Momo¡¯s eyes went as large as saucers. ¡°I can¡¯t dance. I¡¯m not winning an entire city¡¯s respect through dance.¡± ¡°Those are the rules, Momo. You can¡¯t simply ignore the rules.¡± Rules you invented, Momo thought bleakly. ¡°But I¡¯m sure there are plenty of people who live here who don¡¯t compete,¡± Momo said. ¡°What about them?¡± ¡°They had to purchase an Early Bird Get Out Of Recital Card, which are now all sold out, sorry,¡± Devola shrugged, putting out the hopeful glint in Momo¡¯s eye. ¡°Everyone who didn¡¯t get one ¨C or couldn¡¯t afford one, they¡¯re quite an expensive luxury ¨C took holiday down in Kalendale.¡± Momo shook her head, sighing quietly. Of course they are. ¡°I don¡¯t get why Sumire would send me here now then,¡± she said, squinting. ¡°My goal is to convert as many people as possible in each town to our side. I can¡¯t exactly do that if all the locals went on an escape-cation.¡± ¡°Mm, perhaps,¡± Devola said, tapping thoughtfully at her chin. ¡°But I¡¯d give your lovely advisor some more credit than that. Check the window.¡± Momo turned around. The papery window shades were fully extended, allowing light to stream in while fully blocking their view of the outdoors. Momo yanked the thread holding them in place, and the blinds zipped upwards, revealing the town square below. And ¨C oh. People. Hundreds of people. Streaming in from the hills, snaking around the mountain. When Momo arrived early in the morning, there was barely a soul in town. Just empty streets smelling of cardamom and horses and getaway cars. Now the city was full to the brim, dozens of fans feverishly packing themselves around a central stage, which was busily being constructed by skeletal hands. When the hell did that happen? Momo said, blinking dumbly. ¡°Non-competitors and tourists aren¡¯t allowed to start journeying up the mountain until three in the afternoon,¡± Devola answered, as if reading Momo¡¯s mind ¨C but more likely her face. ¡°They started filing in while we were warming up. Quite the turnout, isn¡¯t it? It gets bigger every season. I¡¯ve made this event a continent-wide sensation. You might have even seen me interviewed in the papers,¡± she winked. ¡°Kelly at the Mekna Gazette is a big fan.¡± Momo kept blinking, completely unwilling to believe what she was seeing and hearing. ¡°The Kraken woman?¡± she said. Momo did recall reading that interview a few months prior, when the Oblivion Event was just brewing. It had shocked her to read Devola¡¯s name then, but nothing could have prepared her for the intercontinental clout she¡¯d gained in the meantime. ¡°That¡¯s her. But I just call her Kare-Bear,¡± Devola said, giggling. ¡°She¡¯s devastated she couldn¡¯t make it this season. Something about a high-profile piece with a Knight of the Sun. Nearly killed me to hear she was interviewing one of those hags ¨C but she promised it would be only the most negative of stories. A complete anti-puff piece.¡± That must be the other Holy Resistance woman, Momo thought. Slythorn¡¯s counterpart. ¡°I¡­¡± Momo trailed off, watching as more and more people piled into the tiny town. ¡°And just what kind of turnout do you expect, exactly?¡± ¡°Fifteen thousand,¡± Devola grinned. ¡°So you better dance your socks off, my dear. Or you can kiss that reputation of yours goodbye.¡± She blew a kiss to Momo, and then stalked out of the room. ¡°Trent, honey, come,¡± she beckoned. ¡°The competition just got interesting. We have a queen to beat.¡± 159 - Rules of Engagement ¡°Aw, the wee queen is blushing,¡± Grimli grinned. ¡°I wonder who it could possibly be from ¨C¡± ¡°Shut it, Grimli,¡± Momo said dryly, but it didn¡¯t wipe the smile from her face. The letter had arrived soon after Devola¡¯s little speech. Momo had taken to the rooftop of the school for a breather and a good look at the massive crowd, only for a little pigeon to swoop down with a letter. The envelope was inked with Jarvirium¡¯s classic insignia. Dear Momo, I hope your travels are treating you well. :) Small change in plans on the campaign trail ¨C next stop after Bruda will be a little place called Snowdrop Village. I¡¯ve adjusted your Kalendale date appropriately. Snowdrop won¡¯t be on the map I gave you, but I¡¯ve attached a new set of directions to this letter. Cheers, and good luck, Sumire Momo sighed. The smiley face. So cute. ¡°That letter¡¯s a bit¡­ mechanical, ain¡¯t it?¡± Grimli said, eavesdropping over her shoulder. ¡°I¡¯d expect more amore from a lover, would you not? Not to pry or anything.¡± Momo blushed profusely and gave him a look. ¡°And yet you''re prying.¡± ¡°Oh, sorry, m¡¯queen,¡± he apologized. ¡°Old habits die hard. I¡¯m used to snooping on all my brothers¡¯ love letters. I was always the one to check them for spelling errors, grammar, the like. A big business that was. Was how I first afforded my first bike.¡± ¡°Well I think the letter¡¯s just fine,¡± Momo said stubbornly. ¡°Look at the smiley face.¡± ¡°That is a nice touch, aye, I¡¯ll give her that.¡± Momo read it over a few more times, her smile nearly splitting her face. She and Grimli poured over the directions afterwards, charting a course from Bruda to Snowdrop, which was considerably out of the way, almost a day¡¯s trip backwards towards Mole City. I¡¯m sure Sumire has her reasons, Momo thought. She hasn¡¯t led me wrong yet. Momo gazed down at the stage in the center of town, at the hundreds of people gathered rabidly around it. Ok, she grimaced. Maybe she¡¯s led me wrong once. ¡ª Momo thought it¡¯d be best to size up the competition. As it turned out, there was some good news and some bad news in that department. The good news was that the entire town ¨C bar those that got away with their get-out-of-jail-free coupons ¨C was part of the contest. That meant anyone from the spunkiest two year old to the most decrepit elderly lizard was invited to compete. By comparison, Momo, with her new aptitude for twirls and kicks and landing on her feet, had a solid chance. The bad news, of course, was that Bruda was home to a premiere dance institution, run by the most tyrannical dance teacher this side of the universe. Momo had the pleasure of taking two lessons with Devola: one nearly killed her, and the second made her wish the first one had. Which was all to say: anyone who could survive that kind of training with Ms. Wraith had to be good. And if not good, at least insane. Compared to someone with that level of pure dedication, Momo¡¯s Dexterity-based advantage felt mediocre at best. ¡°This¡¯ll be my second season competing in the challenge,¡± said one seventy-two year old goblin in the school hallway, looking as proud as a father on his daughter¡¯s wedding day. ¡°I came in number one hundred and eighty three last time, now I¡¯m aiming for one hundred and fifty three.¡± ¡°Good for you,¡± Momo murmured. ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll make it.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t need your silly luck, princess,¡± he guffawed. ¡°I''ve been training my whole damn life for this sport. I was once a Gladiator, you know. The type that fights with lions. You gotta have some damn good dance moves to outmaneuver those beasts.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not princess. It¡¯s queen, actually ¨C¡± ¡°I¡¯m not sure my mate here knows exactly what dance means at all,¡± Grimli suggested in a barely-concealed whisper. ¡°It doesn''t mean fighting moves. It¡¯s a delicate, precise artform.¡± The goblin man¡¯s face screwed up in a terrible expression, not that goblin peoples¡¯ faces were terribly great to look at in general. ¡°What would you know? I bet those tiny legs and little feet of yours can barely catch a rhythm.¡± This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. It would be important to note here that the goblin was not much bigger than Grimli, maybe by a dime or a quarter at the most. Age and back problems had leveled the man down into a stupor, and Grimli¡¯s rage knocked him up a few inches, standing on his tiptoes. Still, Grimli got hot in the face at the accusation, as was his favorite hobby to do, and pointed a stubby finger at the elderly goblin. ¡°I¡¯ll have you know I once outdanced the Queen of Dwarves herself with these little feet, not that it¡¯s any of your business.¡± ¡°That so? Why don¡¯t we try and see whose feet move faster then, yours and mines ¨C¡± Momo¡¯s incoming-highly-embarrassing-event senses started tingling, so she took Grimli¡¯s hand before another word came out of his mouth. ¡ª ¡°You should have let me at him,¡± Grimli grumbled, arms crossed on the floor of one of the New School¡¯s several studios. Momo picked the one on the highest floor, so far unoccupied by any other students or competitors. ¡°I need the practice, anyway, if I¡¯ve got any hope of beating these tools at the dance school.¡± ¡°You?¡± Momo said. ¡°You¡¯ll do just fine. Me, on the other hand...¡± ¡°Nah, lass. I know you well, I¡¯ve seen you in action. What¡¯s that class of yours, Nether Doba-die? The whole thing is designed to mess with other people. Illusion and mental manipulation and all that. You¡¯ll do just fine.¡± ¡°But the competition is about dancing,¡± Momo squinted. ¡°Aren¡¯t spells banned?¡± Grimli laughed. ¡°Banned? Did you even read the rules, lass?¡± He removed a pamphlet from his pocket and handed it to Momo. It was labeled Competition Rules. ¡°Where¡¯d you get this?¡± Momo muttered, annoyed that she hadn¡¯t found it first. ¡°The Wraith woman gave me it,¡± he grumbled. ¡°Of course she had to throw in some jab first about how she hoped my mind was more literate than my feet,¡± his eyebrows slanted like a pissed off cartoon character. ¡°Like that makes any sense at all.¡± Momo laughed under her breath, and Grimli glared at her. She cleared her throat, and started reading the paper. RULES OF DEADLY DANCE RECITAL As all true fans of the New School of Dance will know, our school is unlike other schools in one crucial way ¨C our encouragement of magical practice. We do not solely accept students with conventional classes such as Dancer or Bard, but students who come from all paths, may that be Cleric or Farmer or Necromancer. In keeping with this practice, our recitals, unlike many other competitive recitals across the nation, do not forbid the use of magic during our competition. In fact, we welcome it. Using magic to defeat your opponent is considered an acceptable form of victory. There are only a few limitations.
  1. While casting magic, you must be performing a dance move or trick. The judges will have to agree that your moves constitute dance moves. Such examples of non-dance moves include: shoulder shimmies, hip rotations, and "tapping your foot to the music."
  2. Killing the competition is acceptable, of course, but it is not required. You must simply incapacitate your opponent completely so they can no longer perform dance moves.
  3. Have fun!
¡°Oh,¡± Momo said, her eyes widening. ¡°I have this in the bag.¡± ¡ª To keep things fair, the Recital was separated by rank. Novices fought novices, Intermediates fought Intermediates, and so on and so forth. This included one exception ¨C the winner of each league was promoted to the next, so on the rare occasion that a Novice might outdo an Expert, they were given the opportunity to prove it. These were all insignificant details to Momo, until they weren¡¯t. ¡°I will win the Expert league,¡± Trent said decisively. Momo heard him say it from the room over, talking to a few buddies by the yoga area. Momo was seated out of view behind a pillar, re-reading Sumire¡¯s letter for the hundredth time. ¡°Devola will eat me alive if I don¡¯t.¡± That gave Momo pause. There¡¯s no way I¡¯m fighting that kid. Especially not to the hypothetical-death. ¡°You¡¯re crazy. She won¡¯t care, man. You¡¯re her favorite student,¡± one of his friends added with slight bitterness. ¡°She¡¯ll be happy enough if you win Intermediates.¡± ¡°No, she won¡¯t,¡± Trent said, shrugging his head. ¡°She expects excellence from me.¡± ¡°Winning intermediates is excellence,¡± his friend countered. ¡°You¡¯re just delusional.¡± The other kids laughed. Momo didn¡¯t have a good view of Trent from behind the pillar ¨C and she didn¡¯t want to reveal herself in case she might embarrass him ¨C but from the sound of it, Trent wasn¡¯t budging on his stance. The boy had gone uncharacteristically silent. ¡°I¡¯m not delusional,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯ve got a leg up on the competition.¡± Momo heard a shuffling noise. Trent reached for his backpack, extracting something. ¡°What the hell is that, man?¡± the friend from before said, his voice notably a lot more serious. ¡°Is that some kind of potion?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± Trent said. ¡°Legendary Potion of All Defenses. Works against every kind of magic. Basically makes you invulnerable for a few minutes. Just enough time for me to wipe the floor with whatever Expert I have to go up against.¡± ¡°Where the hell did you find something like that?¡± the friend asked, voice quivering. ¡°You can''t be serious. You know as well as everyone that potions are banned, man. Spells are okay, but no dopes.¡± Trent shrugged. ¡°Please. It¡¯s not like they¡¯re potion-testing. They won¡¯t know.¡± ¡°Devola will, man.¡± ¡°She won¡¯t.¡± ¡°She will.¡± ¡°Just back off,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m going to do it my way. You all can be sorry losers in the Intermediate ranks. I¡¯m going to the big leagues.¡± Momo pressed herself against the pillar as she heard Trent steam by, his footsteps coming down hard and furious on the wooden floors. The door to the studio slammed behind him, draping the room in an uncomfortable silence. "Guy''s crazy, man," his friend whispered in the other room. "Top of the class but too stuck up his own ass to be happy with his progress. He''s gonna get himself kicked from the school for no reason." The other kids agreed, and they slowly got their things, following Trent''s trail out of the room and into their next class, leaving Momo to reflect on what just transpired. She shut her eyes tightly, sighing miserably. Damn it. She was going to have to do something she truly hated doing. She was going to have to be the bigger person. 160 – The Boy-Celebrity As the sun dawned over Bruda, light streaked across the grand stage. Hundreds upon hundreds of avid fans had slept beneath it the night before, snoring on pebbles and tree brambles until the sunlight woke them with a jolt. It was time ¨C the Novice competition had begun. Momo had bought popcorn (notably salted with Eldergoat Butter, which she chose not to investigate the origins of) and got the best seats in the house ¨C up on top of the Earl¡¯s Longhouse. It was opposite the Judges¡¯ Panel, which sat on a platform extending from the dance school. The whole display gave Momo eerie flashbacks to the last contest she was involved in, only the stakes were moderately lower here, the crowd was considerably less pretentious, and the contestants were mostly children, not high-security prisoners. Momo was originally concerned, seeing five and six year olds stumble onto the stage, that she would need to intervene immediately on the basis of human rights ¨C but luckily Devola wasn¡¯t a complete sociopath. Parents of all children below the age of eleven were required on stage, per ¡°Government Laws,¡± as Devola called them. Not Momo¡¯s Government Laws, of course, as no one here seemed to understand that she was the queen at all ¨C but apparently some laws, somewhere. Probably in a vault under the ocean, or in a filing cabinet in the Nether. Either way, Momo was happy to hear about them. If someone was going to invent a law, Momo was just happy it was one against child murder. ¡°My bets on the runt with the pink tutu,¡± Grimli said, pointing to the girl on stage who was currently sitting at the edge of it, waving to her grandma out in the makeshift stands. These stands, which were available only to the elderly and disabled, were just kegs of alcohol stacked upwards, with a small ramp attached. Her fierce opponent was a boy who was currently doing jumping jacks in place. This apparently aligned enough with the rule of constant dancing that the judges gave him a pass, and disqualified the girl for her ¡°lack of movement.¡± ¡°Looks like you lost that bet,¡± Momo said with a smirk. ¡°But I don¡¯t think we should gamble on the outcome of children¡¯s sports.¡± ¡°Well now you¡¯re all high and mighty.¡± ¡ª The Novice league¡¯s final battle was quite the study in opposites. The nailbiter of a match was between an elderly man, who had seemingly never surpassed the first class rank, but was plenty good at dancing the cha-cha, and a stupidly talented savant of a twelve year old, who managed to catapult the old man off the stage all the while doing her own one-person conga line. After the medics assured that the man was fine, if just a little pissed off and very eager for a rematch, it was onto the Intermediate leagues. For this, Momo was grateful. Her stomach had been whirring like a washing machine ever since she realized she¡¯d have to intervene with Trent¡¯s plans, but she hadn¡¯t been able to track the boy down. He had gone completely awol. Until now. ¡°There he is,¡± Momo said with a sigh of relief, pointing him out in the crowd. ¡°He¡¯s behind a bunch of people in the queue for the Intermediate matches. I was getting worried he¡¯d gone completely postal.¡± ¡°Hm. No. He mostly just looks angry and sweaty, so nothing out of the ordinary,¡± Grimli remarked. ¡°But how are you so sure he hasn¡¯t taken that potion yet?¡± ¡°I mean, I¡¯m not certain, but it¡¯d be a pretty stupid thing to do. He said it had a limited time span, like a few minutes at maximum. He wouldn¡¯t use it unless he really needed it ¨C like once he¡¯s in the Expert leagues and punching way above his weight.¡± Grimli made a sound of understanding, catching on. ¡°So you¡¯re planning on stealing it off of him now, then?¡± Momo sighed, nodding her head affirmatively. ¡°I really keep giving Mordecai new reasons to give me these classes, don¡¯t I? Next skill I get will be [Stealing Candy From A Child].¡± ¡ª Not wanting to alert anyone with the sight of a Nether Imp sailing around the stage, Momo was forced to employ the most dreaded spy strategy of all¨C using her feet. Taking advantage of her [Crowd Control] ability, Momo pushed through the masses of people with relative ease. The spell had a calming effect on the majority of the fans, causing them to go droopy eyed and gyrate their hips a little bit less enthusiastically, but it didn¡¯t stop the most diehard ones from elbowing her out of their coveted pit space. ¡°I¡¯ll kill you,¡± one particularly excited fan mouthed towards Momo; luckily, murder didn¡¯t seem feasible in that moment, as her hands were otherwise occupied holding a large sign that said WE LOVE YOU TRENT in big, scrawled-on letters. There were many such Trentonators surrounding the venue, as Momo heard them call themselves. These small hordes of teenage girls were the most resistant to Momo¡¯s mind games, and most likely to stare at her in ways that made her fear for her life. Apparently, Trent had become somewhat of a staple of this competition. A real frontrunner. He hadn¡¯t quite won the whole thing yet, but he had come close on many occasions. Enough to build himself a fanbase. And enough for Devola to use him as a marketing tool to attract even more publicity. A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. ¡°I am the biggest Trent fan here,¡± another fan shouted at Momo as she knuckled by. ¡°Everyone here who says otherwise is a liar, do you hear me? Do you understand?¡± Momo laughed nervously. ¡°Totally.¡± This can¡¯t be good for a young boy¡¯s psyche. Momo made it to the roped-off contestant area just as the first Intermediate fight began. It was between Trent¡¯s friend from yesterday, a boy named Culver, and the Novice girl who had won the previous rounds. All of Culver¡¯s friends, including Trent, were busy jeering him on ¨C not quite cheering, but not quite booing either, as is a common signal of support from teenage boys, Momo deduced. Don¡¯t give yourself away, Momo reminded herself as she snuck up behind Trent. Just be sneaky. The boy-celebrity was a good foot away from her, and too invested in the match in front of him to notice her creeping up from behind. Taking a shallow breath in, Momo prayed to Mordecai (in a rather treasonistic way, admittedly. Hopefully Morgana can¡¯t read my thoughts.) She needed [Nimble Fingers] to perform miracles. ¡°Come on, Culver, you¡¯re really getting schooled by a twelve year old?¡± Trent shouted, cupping his mouth with his hands for better volume. As he did so, his pocket bobbed upwards, the tip of the potion bottle sticking out ever so slightly. Silently, soundlessly ¨C Momo snatched it. She shoved it in her own pocket without a word. Confident that he hadn¡¯t noticed, she stepped away from him, turning to leave. ¡°Momo?¡± Just as Momo was about to flee into the crowd, Trent¡¯s voice froze her in place. Crap. Crap. Crap. She whipped around. ¡°Hi Trent,¡± she said, shoving her trembling hands in her pockets. ¡°How¡¯s it going? Pre-match nerves getting you? They¡¯re getting me, for sure --¡± ¡°I don¡¯t get nervous.¡± He narrowed his eyes at her. ¡°What are you doing here? Shouldn¡¯t you be practicing for the Expert league?¡± ¡°Oh, you know,¡± Momo said, not knowing in the least. ¡°Just surveying the possible competition.¡± Trent laughed, sneering. ¡°You''re scared of a bunch of Intermediates, huh?¡± ¡°I mean, maybe,¡± Momo said. ¡°But I could also be scared of a rock if it looked menacing enough. The bar isn¡¯t very high for me and being frightened.¡± His sneer fell. He rolled his eyes, and his hand moved into his lower pocket reflexively. Momo¡¯s stomach dropped as realization fell over the boy¡¯s face ¨C his eyes opening wide. ¡°It¡¯s gone,¡± he said, silent fury sitting underneath his features. ¡°My ¨C it¡¯s gone. Where¡¯d it go?¡± He whipped his head around like a rabid owl, eyes pointing accusingly at every child, teenager, and reptile in sight, before finally settling on Momo again. ¡°Did you see who took it?¡± he said, nearly frothing at the mouth. His eyes traveled down to her pocket. ¡°Was it you? Did you take it?¡± ¡°I have no clue what you¡¯re on about. Sorry,¡± Momo squeaked. ¡°Did you lose something?¡± ¡°Yes. A very very valuable something,¡± he said, walking towards her. ¡°Momo, if you took that something, we¡¯re going to have a very big problem.¡± ¡°Trent ¨C hey ¨C chill out, dude. I didn¡¯t take anything from you,¡± Momo mumbled, walking away from him as he stalked towards her threateningly. Her back pressed into the undulating crowds. Shit. The fans had pressed even tighter since the match began, and her [Crowd Control] skill was on cooldown. She had nowhere to run. It didn¡¯t take long before he was face-to-face with her, staring her down from his unusual height. His growth spurt gave him a few critical inches on her, and he was using them with great pleasure as a tool for intimidation. Momo was sure it worked on the other kids. Combined with his family history and Devola¡¯s affection for him, Momo could imagine he had the possibility to inspire a great deal of fear in other people. But not Momo. ¡°The outline in your pocket is a bit of a giveaway, Momo,¡± he said coldly. ¡°Just give it back.¡± He reached for the potion desperately, but Momo rebuffed him, dodging out of the way. ¡°You know, Trent, your [Pickpocket] skill is really abysmal,¡± she said under her breath, teasing him for the way he kept deftly missing her pocket. ¡°I¡¯d train that up.¡± ¡°Shut up and hand it over,¡± he seethed, letting go of any illusion of friendliness. He attempted the same maneuver, but Momo dodged again, hopping out of the way. As hard as he tried, her Dexterity was leagues above his own. The gap between Intermediate and Expert was a chasm, and not one he was about to cross. ¡°No,¡± Momo said, staring him straight in the face. ¡°This isn¡¯t how you get stronger, Trent.¡± Hateful as she was to admit it, Momo couldn¡¯t help but relate to the boy. Losing your mother and finding a new authority figure to prove yourself to in her absence? Momo knew that song and dance very well. She didn¡¯t like to think of Valerica as a replacement for anything, but Momo was smarter than that delusion now ¨C she knew she gripped onto the Necromage for a reason. When someone believes in you ¨C really believes in you ¨C you¡¯ll do anything to make their reality real. Even if it requires a variety of moral compromises. ¡°I need to win,¡± he choked out, trying uselessly for her pocket again. ¡°You don¡¯t get it.¡± ¡°I do get it, actually,¡± she sighed, continuing to hop from foot to foot. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be here right now running a stupid nation if I didn¡¯t get it. The people we love and respect make us into different people. Better people, usually. They make us want to try harder. Do better. But you can¡¯t get too caught up in it, Trent. You have to find yourself in all of that, too.¡± He lunged for her, and this time he caught the edge of her pocket. ¡°Finally,¡± he groaned, before realizing that he had come away with only a torn off piece of her cloak. No potion. He threw the torn fabric violently to the ground. He looked up, his eyes piercing straight into hers. His pupils had gone fully dilated, round and full with brimming rage. Momo knew that expression well ¨C the one of a cornered, desperate animal. ¡°Momo, I swear to the Gods, I¡¯m going to kill y¨C¡± ¡°Trent, darling!¡± Trent froze where he stood, his entire face stilling. Both he and Momo gazed upwards, above the chatter of the crowds and the stage, where Devola was leaning over the banner of the Judges¡¯ Panel. She held an empty cup in her extended hand. ¡°Would you be a dear and refill my juice, please?¡± she asked. ¡°I¡¯ve run out.¡± ¡°But I ¨C¡± She dropped the cup. It landed like a falling weight on his head, bouncing off into his open palm. After a considering moment, he gripped his fingers around it, careful not to break it. He sighed. The anger seemed to have drained from his body, replaced instead by a quiet resignation. ¡°I¡¯m going to beat you anyway,¡± he said under his teeth. ¡°Potion or not.¡± Momo grinned. ¡°That¡¯s the spirit, kid. Now, go fetch your juice.¡± 161 – The Creation of a Monster
Ruler System Admin Override: Sumire, [Chief Military Advisor] Modeling Feature: Activated
Just as Momo was returning to her seat on the roof, she heard a faint ping in her eardrum. Sumire¡­? Modeling feature? What was that all about?
Bruda ¨C De Jure Holding Control Rating: 70%
  • 70% from Friendly relationship with Devola Wraith, President of the New School for Dance.
14,824 non-residents detected Modeling Feature engaged
As the audio courier spit nonsensical information in her ear, Momo took a seat next to Grimli, who had emptied three popcorn cases and begun strumming a new theme song based on the day¡¯s events. Something called Dance Dance Momo. His daily ritual of music making was a habit that Momo hadn¡¯t yet decided if she liked or hated. Most of the melodies were good ¨C head-boppable and toe-tappable ¨C but the lyrics were just atrocious. Momo was just glad that Alois hadn''t caught onto the idea of reviewing music in the daily paper, or his ego would have been crushed ten times over. ¡°I¡¯m so lost,¡± Momo mumbled, slapping at her ear as if she had a hornet trapped in there. ¡°What is this courier thing going on about? It¡¯s like Sumire installed a virus into my Ruler System.¡± As if on cue, the audio glitched and began reading out an intro for something called the Sentiment Modeling Feature. Resigned to hear the machine out, she laid her head back on the hot roof tiling, stared into the sky, and anxiously chewed on her lip.
Welcome to the Sentiment Modeling Feature. This feature allows you to model how different actions will affect your approval rating among different populations. The Model has done the work of identifying the event and the population at this time, and several possible outcomes. Event: Dance Recital Population: 14,824 fans Possible Outcomes:
  1. Queen Momo wins.
  2. Queen Momo loses.
  3. Queen Momo dies.
Modeled Outcomes:
  • Queen Momo wins: Due to Dance Recital fans traveling from a variety of cities across the nation, gaining their approval will skyrocket your total control rating across many different territories. If you were to win this dance competition, your Control Rating over the entire continent would hit 30%, compared to its current 10%.
As it read the numbers out, Momo sat up with an urgency. ¡°That is a huge boost,¡± she said, mouth agape. It dawned on Momo at that moment why Sumire sent her to Bruda at this specific, unfortunate time. Despite Momo¡¯s absolute disdain for public displays of embarrassment, being able to sway a gigantic, diverse audience in one go created a ripple effect throughout the entire continent. If everyone at the event went home to their city and told their social circle how great Momo was, word of mouth would increase her control ratings way more than just visiting cities one-by-one. Sumire is a genius. Of course, there were other, less desirable outcomes, which Audio-Megan reminded Momo so dutifully.
  • Queen Momo loses: The opposite will occur if you lose. Every fan will now think less of you. They will view you as an incapable dancer, and thus an incapable queen. Your Control Rating over the entire continent would go from 10% to 8%.
  • Queen Momo dies: Control Rating will go to 0%, and control of the continent will default to [S3]
¡°Why is me dying even something that this thing is designed to forecast?¡± Momo grumbled. Wait. She paused. ¡°Wait, audio thing, can you play back that last part?¡± It obeyed and repeated the last line. Momo¡¯s frown deepened. This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. ¡°What the hell is [S3]?¡± she asked.
That is classified information.
¡°I¡¯m sorry, aren¡¯t you my system?¡± she asked. ¡°Why would that be classified? Just unclassify it.¡±
Classified information cannot be unclassified just because you say so.
¡°I see you have the same attitude problem as your parchment brethern,¡± Momo commented dryly. ¡°Can you at least tell me who I¡¯d have to ask to have it unclassified? Can Sumire do it?¡±
Admin [Sumire] does not have permission to view this classified information.
¡°Well, great ¨C¡± ¡°Momo, Trent¡¯s going on stage!¡± Grimli set down his lute, briefly pausing his work on the chorus. He had his finger pointed at the stage, where the Boy-Celebrity was indeed taking his first stand. His small fandom was going nearly dizzy with excitement as he greeted the crowd. He took a bow and waved like a proper English princess. She was grateful Grimli had pointed him out, because Momo would have never realized it was actually him. The young dancer was dressed to the nines in a proper tuxedo, with all the flourishes of an usher at an opera house. His hair had been slicked back, his fingers manicured, even his shoes ¨C pointy black things that looked very impractical for a fight to the near-death ¨C were shining like miniature suns. His opponent was a boy Momo recognized, Quentin, another of Trent¡¯s friends at the dance academy. He was dressed similarly, opting instead for a red tuxedo with white trimmings. Most interestingly, he held a wooden staff ¨C some sort of magically attuned thing that glittered with amber magic. It was the first of a kind Momo had seen a competitor use. Unlike the previous matches, which commenced with the ring of a bell, Devola stood to address the crowd. They all quieted in reverence, looking at her as if she was a goddess gracing them with a very rare visit. She had the look of one too ¨C her hair spread out like a hydra, nine heads of red curls floating in mid-air as she spoke, hands extended. ¡°As you all know, my dear Trent, one of my finest disciples,¡± she said, pausing for an excessive amount of cheers from a certain area of the audience. ¡°He lost by just a smidgen in the previous season. A technicality, really. But he has been training every single day since then, working himself tirelessly to put on a delightful show for you all." Momo looked from Devola¡¯s face to Trent¡¯s, watching as he desperately tried to control his reaction. His face was schooled into something completely apathetic, but the edge of his mouth gave him away. He¡¯s trembling. It didn''t surprise her. Momo could only imagine the amount of pressure he felt. Actually, she didn¡¯t have to imagine it. She¡¯d been there before. Very recently. But this felt more intense than saving the universe, somehow. ¡°I know he¡¯s going to give us quite the performance today. So,¡± Devola clapped her hands together. ¡°Give it your all, Trenty. Show Morgana what a wonderful student you truly are.¡± The bell rang out ¨C and the competition began. Quentin was the first to move. He did a simple back-and-forth motion as he conjured something with his staff. Telling from the furrowed look on his face, it seemed that his type of magic required a period of intense concentration. It only made sense that he kept his dance moves simple (but still qualifiable.) Trent opted for a different approach. The boy leapt into the air, curling into himself as he did three consecutive somersaults. "What athleticism!" "He''s practically flying!" Trent landed squarely in front of his opponent, who hadn¡¯t expected him to travel the distance in such a short amount of time; as a result, Quentin squeaked with surprise, firing his spell prematurely. Vibrant red magic shot from his staff, flying in all directions. Some of it hit Trent on the shoulder, but most of it spiraled out weakly into the crowds, doing no damage. ¡°Did I scare you, Quenty-boy?¡± Trent laughed, shrugging off the pain. ¡°Not in the least,¡± Quentin said, his voice small. But then he grinned. In one swift motion, Quentin jutted his staff forward, shoving it directly into Trent¡¯s ribcage. Trent groaned, clamoring backwards. ¡°This staff is good for a lot more than casting spells,¡± Quentin laughed as he leapt into the air, staff facing down like a battering ram, poised to level Trent right into the stage. ¡°You¡¯re not going to be Devola¡¯s number one anymore, Trenty-boy.¡± With a maniacal scream, Quentin slammed downwards. Trent rolled out of the way at the last second, a terrible splintering echoing out from the stage as the staff drilled straight through the wood foundation. Wood splinters rained over the audience, generating a misty cloud of debris. ¡°What was that?¡± Trent teased, his physical form lost somewhere in the mist. ¡°You were saying?¡± Quentin scowled. He pulled at his staff uselessly. It was properly wedged in the stage, unmovable. ¡°You stupid, pretentious idiot. My staff ¨C¡± ¡°Is broken,¡± Trent said. ¡°Time to get a new one.¡± Trent emerged from the cloud of debris mid-air, his feet pointed upwards, his head downwards, in some kind of perfectly aligned ballerina-esque position. He reached out his arms to grab at the top of the staff, then used the rest of his momentum in his somersault to unlodge it and send it soaring off-stage. It collided with a building and exploded on impact ¨C shattering into a hundred pieces. "My.... my..." Quentin mumbled. "I''ve had that staff since I was a Novice." He had gone completely still, frozen in disbelief, his eyes glued to the crime scene. Meanwhile, Trent landed on both feet, and did a small, polite bow. The crowd absolutely erupted. ¡°And Trent¡¯s done it again ¨C completely unarmed his opponent with grace and elegance!¡± the show¡¯s announcer cried. The roof Momo sat on began to rock under the immense amount of screaming and gyrating Trent¡¯s move generated. His fanbase had gone buckwild, all trying to imitate him in a complete disaster of coordination. Devola, from her high seat, laughed and sipped her juice. Momo knew a proud smile when she saw it ¨C and Devola''s face was positively glowing. ¡°My staff,¡± Quentin repeated, eyes as dead as corpses. "My staff." Devola leaned towards the wand-microphone. ¡°Quentin has been disqualified for a lack of movement,¡± she announced. ¡°Trent will be moving onto the next round.¡± Quentin didn¡¯t even acknowledge the announcement. He just stared off into the trees, as blank as a sheet of paper. Trent, to his part, took another bow, egging the audience on as they chanted his name louder and louder. ¡°Wasn¡¯t that guy supposed to be his friend?¡± Grimli said. "Plenty of other ways he could have beat ''im without destroying his childhood weapon." ¡°Yeah,¡± Momo said, swallowing thickly. ¡°I think Devola might have created a monster.¡± 162 – Friends to Enemies The subsequent rounds did nothing to improve Momo¡¯s impression of Trent. His matches had gone from depressing to complete and utter bloodbaths. In his second round, paired against a former dance teacher, he broke both of the guy¡¯s legs, laughed, and bitterly yelled ¡°those who can''t, teach,¡± as the medics dragged him away into their blue-rimmed tents. ¡°If there was a score for humanity, he¡¯d be getting a zero,¡± Momo mumbled. ¡°Watching him fight is like watching someone repeatedly kick puppies.¡± ¡°A zero? You¡¯re polite,¡± Grimli said, chewing on a chicken drumstick. ¡°I¡¯d be giving him a negative ten and hauling him off to the psychiatrist.¡± ¡°Wait, so you guys do have therapists?¡± Momo said with astonishment. ¡°Nah, the humanfolk don¡¯t,¡± he said. ¡°Only us dwarves. It used to be common amongst most of the races, but Jarva swore it off as necromancy. Haven¡¯t seen a licensed feelings-person since.¡± ¡°Of course he did,¡± Momo sighed. The third round was no more promising. He ended the match by breakdancing on the quivering body of his opponent, who he had tramped to near-death with a cast of [Flurrying Feet]. With the combination of Trent¡¯s bloodstained fight streak and his fan¡¯s commitment to recreating all of his signature moves, the medics were starting to run out of tents. As he neared the final match of the League, Momo¡¯s anxiety only mounted. She knew inevitably they¡¯d be matched against each other. She wasn¡¯t afraid for herself, but she was afraid what a loss would trigger in him. If she didn¡¯t need to win the Recital so desperately, she would have had no problem throwing the match. In fact, she would have loved to pack her bags and send her party straight to the next town, no questions asked. But, tragically, Sumire¡¯s campaign plan had contained no miscalculations. It was designed to end with a perfect 100 in Control, not a point more or less. The opportunity to win over this many people in one go was a necessity. To fail at this wouldn¡¯t just be embarrassing ¨C it would be potentially fatal to her entire campaign run. And with the Holy Resistance mounting an opposition from the sidelines, she couldn¡¯t afford any hiccups. And to top it all off ¨C Sumire would be disappointed. Momo couldn¡¯t have that. ¡ª ¡°I would never have called Trent a sweet kid, but this¡­¡± Momo trailed off, watching as Trent one-two punched a middle-aged White Mage. It was his second-to-last round, and he was showing no mercy. The woman tripped over her own gown, falling off the stage with a squeal. Trent¡¯s fans only jeered at her as she wiped the dirt off her dress, limping to the side. ¡°It¡¯s never the kid, Momo,¡± Grimli hummed. ¡°You always have to look upwards. It¡¯s always who they¡¯re emulating.¡± Momo¡¯s gaze slowly lifted towards the Judges¡¯ Booth. Indeed, Devola had done nothing to penalize Trent¡¯s behavior. If anything, she was encouraging it. Wide smiles. Claps. Cheers and laughter. Much like the other high-powered necromancers of the old regime ¨C Valerica, Sera, Viktor ¨C success to Devola was defined only by success, and rarely by the means it took to get there. A remnant of the Dark Calamity, Momo imagined. Momo had seen enough on Earth to recognize the same pattern here. When you¡¯re losing a war, couth and manners fly out the window. You can¡¯t be polite when some pompous, righteous knight is destroying every single one of your precious students under the guise of justice. And no one knew that more than Devola. She used to be a professor back then. Before she lost them all, and replaced them with skeletons. Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Momo¡¯s lip curled downwards. It wasn¡¯t like Momo was all high and mighty, either. She was Valerica¡¯s mini-me, just the same. Who would she be to try and get Trent to defect from Devola¡¯s leadership? She had tried to separate herself from Valerica¡¯s desires before ¨C make her own, humanitarian mark on the world of necromancy ¨C but at the end of the day, when Valerica was happy, she was happy. It was impossible to inextricably untie the two. But this ¨C violence for the sake of violence; violence for the sake of enjoyment ¨C wasn¡¯t what Momo wanted life in her queendom to become. She wanted to build a place where people rewarded kindness. Softness. She¡¯d seen what Jarva did to this place. The pestilence of greed and pride and bad character that he soaked into everyday life. It had seeped into everything and everyone, even the people who claimed to hate him. The lesson was clear: where power went unchecked, life became worse for the majority. In Jarvirium, people were sending themselves up mail chutes. Kids like Nura and Sumire were incarcerated and enslaved by Holy Knights for the crime of being young and naive. Even now, in Mole City, Viktor had left a crater of poverty under his feathery helm. This isn¡¯t Jarva¡¯s kingdom anymore, Momo thought decisively, curling her hand into a fist. I need to make the people realize that they don¡¯t have to follow Kyros¡¯s shitty morality anymore. Life doesn¡¯t have to be a constant fight to the top. Momo was drawn from her internal monologue by a deafening crack ¨C the sound of a bone breaking. A scream accompanied it, Trent¡¯s opponent falling off the stage as the medics rushed from the bleachers. Trent didn¡¯t offer to help, he just signaled impatiently to the ref for his next opponent. Not a hint of empathy on his face. Momo looked towards the Judges¡¯ Booth. For the first time, Momo noticed Devola¡¯s smile fall. ¡ª Soon enough, the final battle of the Intermediate League had arrived on Bruda¡¯s stage. Trent had cut down the competition like a woodsman with a carnivorous machete, chopping down eager students and their pipedreams like feeble tree branches. His final opponent was Culver. From what Momo had observed, Culver was probably Trent¡¯s closest friend in the entire academy; the same guy who had tried to convince him against taking the potion just yesterday. He seemed like the honest sort. Modest, from a background of small means. According to Momo¡¯s snooping, he only afforded the academy¡¯s tall tuition with a scholarship from Devola herself. ¡°I found him dancing for money in the streets of Nam¡¯Dal,¡± Devola had told her. ¡°His moves were quite rudimentary ¨C but the passion was there. I offered him a seat in the freshman class, and he¡¯s been our second best student ever since. Him and Trent have a bit of a friendly rivalry, one might say.¡± Coming from Nam¡¯Dal, not only was he a Dancer, but a dual-classed Rogue. He wielded two daggers with hilts like sunflowers. His armor was light as a feather, but heavy vines with prickly thorns snaked around his hands and forearms. Momo guessed that he was some sort of Druid Thief. A cool class, for sure, but Momo didn¡¯t envy the getup ¨C the way the thorns drilled into his skin was painful just to gaze at. ¡°Trent,¡± Culver greeted plainly as the two met on stage. He was barely able to look his friend in the eye. ¡°I don¡¯t even know what to say to you, man.¡± ¡°Congratulations, maybe?¡± Trent said, mischievously lifting an eyebrow. ¡°But that might be a little premature. I might as well give you a fair chance at besting me first.¡± From high up above, Momo sighed. This is supposed to be his best friend. The one confidant he had among everybody else. If he treated him just the same as the others, he was more foregone than Momo even realized. ¡°I know you want to win this, but this isn¡¯t how you go about it,¡± Culver said, his frown deepening. ¡°You¡¯re destroying people. Going too far for no reason. What you did to Quentin¡¯s staff was just cruel. You know what that thing meant to him.¡± Trent shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s a recital, Culver. You have to give the people a show. A show requires drama. I pity you that you don¡¯t realize that.¡± Momo could practically hear Devola¡¯s voice in her ear as he spoke. Drama. It was the woman¡¯s sole virtue. Like pious men and chastity, she valued performance and showmanship over all else. At least, she did. Watching her now, she had a darker expression on her face. Something contemplative. Worried. It was an odd look for her. Entirely too sane. ¡°Well, it¡¯s a shitty show,¡± Culver said, finally meeting Trent¡¯s gaze. ¡°And you¡¯re a shitty performer.¡± Trent scowled. ¡°We¡¯ll see about that,¡± he said, gritting his teeth. ¡°Sorry in advance about your little scholarship.¡± Before Culver could respond, the bell dinged. 163 – Soul Healer A storm from the south began to rustle in as the match began. It was as if Mother Nature herself had come to accompany the dour mood, like a conductor to an angsty orchestra. Rain poured down and neither boy made any sudden movements, opting instead to simply shift their weight back and forth rhythmically, appeasing the dancing requirement. The two were sizing each other up. Culver had studied Trent¡¯s brutal rise to the top and knew better than to act rashly. Trent had observed Culver just the same ¨C and wisely chose not to underestimate him. ¡°I¡¯d like to see a little more action than this, boys,¡± the judge aside Devola commanded, fanning a wide, floral fan at his puffy face. ¡°I thought you two were supposed to be the best and brightest of the studio, are they not, Devola?¡± The judge turned to Devola, who seemed surprised to be talked to. The Necrodancer had barely moved a muscle since Trent took to the stage, absorbed in some sort of inner conflict. ¡°Well, of course,¡± Devola said with a jolt. ¡°Never forget the audience, my dears.¡± Trent had not. In a flourish, the boy bounded forward, cartwheeling through the air. Culver braced for impact. ¡°[Shield of Nature]!¡± he shouted just as Trent¡¯s fist collided with his chest. A glimmering, green diamond appeared in front of Culver, rebuffing Trent¡¯s attack and sending him flying backwards. ¡°Damn it,¡± Trent cursed, landing on his feet like a death-evading cat. Momo could tell from his expression that he was surprised to be parried. Almost none of his opponents had been able to rebuff his first hit, especially such a direct one. Culver¡¯s power clearly rivaled his own. Wasting no time, Culver flipped his entire body forward, doing a handstand as he catapulted into the air. The audience came alive with cheers as he sailed almost as high as the school building, long whips of ivy following his ascent. Like a hawk locking onto his prey, he then barrelled downwards. ¡°[Vine Lash]!¡± he screamed as he fell upon Trent. Vines came crashing down into the stage, snaking into the wooden foundation. Trent slipped away at the last second, dashing to the side. ¡°Be careful not to completely trash the stage, please,¡± Devola mentioned politely into the wand-phone. ¡°There will be other matches after this one.¡± The advice went in one ear and out the other. ¡°You stupid rogue,¡± Trent spat, his pupils as dilated as full moons; his cheeks hot with fury. ¡°Aren¡¯t you supposed to be playing around in the shadows? Give up the ridiculous punching, it doesn¡¯t look good on you.¡± "Being an evil dickhead doesn''t look great on you, either." The two traded jabs, a flurry of fists and words and forearms. Culver had the advantage of speed, but Trent had sheer power; he wore him down quickly, backing Culver into a corner; the boy fumbled, nearly losing his footing off the side stage. Trent gave him no time to recover. "[Necrotic Fist]!" he shouted, black, grimy death emanating from his palm. Culver was still finding his balance when Trent flew forward, rushing at him like a bull. A right hook came rearing below his chin, smashing upwards. A fleshy crack echoed around the stage. After a collective gasp, the audience went as quiet as night. Trent¡¯s punch had landed. Culver fell backwards, unmoving. ¡°Oh my Kyros. Did he just kill him?¡± Grimli said weakly. Momo¡¯s heart dropped, unable to respond until she heard Culver¡¯s voice. ¡°[Ivy¡¯s Revenge],¡± the fading boy whispered. It was the last thing he said before his head slunk down to the side, his eyes rolling back in his head. The vines that his [Vine Lash] had buried in the foundation of the stage suddenly erupted from beneath, possessed by remnants of Culver¡¯s magic. Trent whipped his head around, alarmed as they all coiled around him like the prickly fingers of a giant. ¡°What the ¨C get off me!¡± The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. He thrashed and struggled against them, but they just wound tighter and tighter, constricting first around his chest, then his neck, until he was nearly blue in the face. ¡°We have to do something,¡± Momo said. ¡°It¡¯s going to kill him.¡± ¡°But he just killed his friend ¨C¡± ¡°We can save both of them,¡± Momo muttered, her heart rampaging in her chest. ¡°We can ¨C¡± Just as Momo was about to jump from the roof, Devola stood. ¡°The match has been concluded, as both parties have been rendered incapacitated,¡± she said, her voice cold and unwavering. With a snap of her fingers, black light emanated around the stage. Invisible razors cut through the vines in one fell swoop. Trent was released, his body falling to the stage in a heap. ¡°Wait,¡± he said, his voice straining from the near-asphyxiation. ¡°That¡¯s not fair. I could have escaped that. I won that. I won.¡± Devola turned her head around sharply, her voice bitter as she spoke. ¡°You would not have escaped that, Trent.¡± Without another word, she left the Judges¡¯ Panel, disappearing somewhere inside. Trent screamed, pounding his fist on the stage. The medics rushed to Culver¡¯s side, carrying his limp body into their one remaining tent. ¡ª ¡°Is he going to make it?¡± Momo asked weakly, biting at her nails as she stood at the opening of the medic tent. Grimli stood by her side, anxiously chewing on another bucket of drumsticks. ¡°We¡¯re not sure,¡± one of the medics answered honestly. The principal medic, a blonde White Mage, sat at Culver¡¯s bedside, administering a continuous low-dose of healing magic. ¡°His spine was nearly severed ¨C and his soul thread keeps ebbing and flowing out of this plane. He¡¯s still with us, but only barely.¡± His soul thread? Momo remembered Morgana speaking of those a long time ago. Soul thread, soul chain ¨C the words seemed interchangeable, but boiled down to mean the core element of the soul, the one which allowed you to transit between the Nether and the mortal planes. Necromancy was, in essence, the re-attachment of soul chains to bodies. Sometimes the same body, more than often a different one. Momo had never quite understood the details of how it worked, mostly because it was hard for her to grasp something she couldn''t see. Thinking of it, an idea came to her. It''s worth a try. ¡°Can I try something?¡± she asked the medic. The medic asked the White Mage, who nodded apprehensively. ¡°As long as it doesn¡¯t interrupt my healing spell,¡± she said. ¡°Of course,¡± Momo assured her. ¡°I just - I might have a way to help him.¡± Momo kneeled down by Culver¡¯s side and pressed a soft hand to his chest. She couldn¡¯t hear a heartbeat, but she knew there was something still there. A remnant of life. [Nether Cultivator], she thought. The spell activated, and the Nether magic around her revealed itself. Tapping into [Nether Cultivator] was like seeing the scene in blurry black and white, with soft, cloud-like puffs of steam floating mindlessly throughout. Usually she never bothered to concentrate harder than this, as only a small amount of concentration was required for her to harness the power ¨C but something inside her urged her to dive deeper. Pushing her Mana to its limit, she shut her eyes even tighter. It was like adjusting the lens of a camera ¨C the more Mana she poured in, the sharper the image. And wow ¨C she had been so blind all along. What had previously been shapeless blobs had sharpened into chains, interlocking and silver, sprouting from the backs of each and every person in the room. When she tried to harness the Nether like she had done many times before, she noticed that she began to pull at the surrounding chains, as if she were tugging the life force from their very bodies. ¡°Ugh,¡± one of the medics said, suddenly holding his stomach. ¡°I feel nauseous.¡± Oh my god, Momo thought, her heart racing. Have I been doing this every time? Using other people¡¯s souls to power my Nether Cultivator attacks? She thought back to the Oblivion Crisis, to the giant cloud floating above the Prince¡¯s Opera House. When the Nether Magic had all culminated into a Cloud Titan, was that thing actually just a culmination of hundreds and hundreds of wayward souls, all stuck together in some kind of Frankenstein monster? It would have explained its behavior. It barely moved, just staring dead-eyed and apathetic at the world it was aimed to consume. A thousand souls pulled from their bodies, stuck like glue to brainless water molecules. Momo swallowed hard. Focus, she said. You can make time for that crisis later. Making use, conveniently, of [Focus], she drilled her attention onto Culver. He did indeed still have a soul chain attached to his body, but it was rusting by the second. The bottom half had turned red and chalky, and it was singing a tune of utter dismay ¨C it was dying. The sound sent her back to her fight with Sera. She had heard that very song then, but had no idea where it was coming from. She always knew that the Nether had a certain hum to it, but she hadn¡¯t pieced together that the hum was actually the sound of souls, the musical melody of life itself. And when life was being detached from the source, it screamed. It screamed bloody murder. She stood up and grabbed it. ¡°What are you doing?¡± the White Mage asked, alarmed. All she saw was Momo¡¯s face screwed up in concentration, grabbing at something invisible in the air. When Momo¡¯s fingers wrapped around the chain, a terrible, hissing, dragging, ravaging sensation flooded over her. She screamed, but held on tight, instinctually flowing her Mana into it. It felt like a hundred nails were being stapled into her very skull, but she refused to let go, pouring every last drop of magic from her body until she gave out. Culver¡¯s chest rose, and the boy shot upright. ¡°Oh my god,¡± the mage cried. ¡°He¡¯s alive!¡± Momo grinned. The last thing she remembered was her body hitting the floor. 164 – A Last-Minute Contestant Momo awoke hazily and slowly, her head pounding. As things came into focus, she saw the faces of four attentive medics watching over her; her fingers wrapped around the soft cotton mat beneath her. She was in the same medical tent as before, only now it appeared that she was the patient. ¡°She¡¯s awake,¡± the White Mage sighed, relief obvious in her voice. ¡°Good. Culver, you can talk to her now. But keep your voice down. She¡¯s still recovering.¡± He¡¯s alive. Momo immediately raised her neck upwards, but was stopped by a pulsating pain throughout her entire body. It felt as if she had fallen down a cliffside and gotten razed over by an avalanche. In fewer words ¨C she was not going anywhere fast. Momo felt a hand on her back, softly guiding her upwards. ¡°Let me help you,¡± Culver said, his eyebrows drilled in concentration as he aided her to a sitting position. ¡°There. Be careful, you shouldn¡¯t make such sudden movements. Not without a lot of stretching.¡± The boy smiled softly at her. Seeing him from closer up now, Momo could glimpse the many scars that littered his face ¨C a jagged, long one across the bridge of his nose; two under his eyes. Despite his rugged appearance, his features were soft, placid. The kind of face that you¡¯d want to spill your secrets to. ¡°You¡¯re alive,¡± Momo said, mouth falling open. ¡°Yes I am,¡± he said, a small smile appearing on his face. ¡°All thanks to you, I hear.¡± ¡°Well, I don¡¯t know about that¡­¡± Momo trailed off, blinking in disbelief. I actually saved him? That meant her hypothesis had been correct. She could do more than just siphon souls. She could replenish them. She wanted more than anything to talk to Valerica. ¡°I owe you my life,¡± he said, bowing his head. The whole display felt a little ridiculous to Momo, who had never been responsible for even giving someone a bandaid when they scratched their knee. ¡°I never thought Magelegs would go as far as killing me, but I guess I didn¡¯t really know him at all. If it wasn¡¯t for you, I¡¯d be six feet under.¡± At the mention of Trent¡¯s last name, the memories flooded back to her. ¡°That little murderous idiot,¡± Momo said breathlessly, recounting the events in her head. ¡°I can¡¯t believe he went that far. We can¡¯t just let him keep doing this ¨C¡± ¡°He¡¯s gone,¡± Culver said, placating her with a hand. Momo froze. ¡°Gone?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± he said. ¡°Trust me, the first thing I tried to do after I woke up was go after him, but he¡¯s long gone. Since the match was considered a draw, he wasn¡¯t allowed to progress to the Expert league. He couldn¡¯t take it ¨C the guy totally lost it. Started throwing things, destroying the bleachers. Ms. Wraith wouldn¡¯t talk to him either, so he fled town and hasn¡¯t come back.¡± ¡°Wow.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± Culver said, whistling. ¡°A few of the university blokes told me they saw him run off with this lady. She had this strange armor. Weird hat. Seems like he¡¯s just gonna get himself in worse trouble. Can¡¯t say I pity him. He can fuck off and die, as far as I¡¯m concerned.¡± ¡°I ¨C yeah,¡± Momo mumbled. I wouldn¡¯t go that far, Momo thought. But I don¡¯t exactly blame this kid for feeling that way. ¡°Culver, language,¡± the White Mage reminded him sternly. ¡°Right, sorry,¡± Culver said, biting his lip. ¡°Don¡¯t mean to get all riled up. You need to rest. But if there¡¯s anything I can do for you, you can find me at the school. Like I said, I owe you.¡± ¡ª By the time she was able to stand up again, the Expert league had nearly come to a close. It was clear she wasn¡¯t going to be able to compete, save some Mother Teresa-esque miracle. Making use of a pair of loaned crutches, she limped herself like an injured snail over to the bleachers, joining Grimli and his eighteenth bucket of stress-snacks. ¡°My liege! It is good to see you walking again,¡± he said, bowing his head and making ample room for her on the seats. ¡°I would have visited you in the tents, but they barred me out like I was some kind of common mongrel. I think they hate dwarves, those medics. I tried singing you some healing ballads, but they wouldn¡¯t allow it.¡± I would discriminate against his lyrics, too, Momo thought with a grimace. Still, his sentiment was sweet. She gave him a soft smile and stole a handful of his candies. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡°Sumire isn¡¯t going to be happy,¡± Momo said after a moment, sighing defeatedly. ¡°I¡¯m going to lose out on so many potential supporters.¡± ¡°She¡¯d be less happy to see you come home in a body bag, your highness.¡± Momo frowned. ¡°How many rounds are left anyway?¡± ¡°Just the one,¡± Grimli said. ¡°It¡¯s between a boy named Desmond, third best student in the academy¨Cbehind dear Culver and sordid Trent¨Cand this masked outsider. The outsider lass isn¡¯t much of a dancer, but she keeps ending her rounds so quickly that she barely needs to move at all. She throws daggers, you see.¡± ¡°Sounds scary.¡± ¡°Deadly scary. I get the heebiejeebies just looking at her.¡± ¡°Where is she?¡± Grimli pointed a finger just below the Judges Panel, where the platform cast a looming shadow over a woman in white mask; she leaned casually on the side of the school building, her foot propped up on the side like a middle school truant. She was speaking unintelligibly into a golden bracelet on her wrist. Momo¡¯s throat tightened. Slythorn. ¡°It¡¯s her again,¡± Momo said, rushing upwards in her seat. The Mana exhaustion hit her almost immediately, nearly leveling her back down. ¡°That Knight of the Sun from before. The one that was acting all weird at the chicken event.¡± ¡°Oy,¡± Grimli remarked, eyes bulging. ¡°Now that you say that, she does look mighty familiar. Didn¡¯t recognize her without her silly hat on. She looks a lot scarier without that bouncy tentacle contraption.¡± Steadying herself on the railing, Momo moved towards the stairway. ¡°She must have the same plan as we do. Win the competition, convert the fans,¡± Momo breathed in slowly, using all her willpower to keep herself upright. ¡°We can¡¯t let her do that. It¡¯d set us back way farther than just not playing.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry to say lassie, but I¡¯m not sure they¡¯ll just let you intervene,¡± Grimli said, worrying his brow as she limped down the bleachers, carefully stepping around the many grandmotherly Eldergoats occupying the seats. ¡°They called your name while you were knocked out, and they were very explicit about what happens if you miss your turn.¡± ¡°Who cares,¡± Momo said, wincing as she got to the bottom ¨C now staring face to face with the crowds. ¡°I¡¯m the one who set up Devola with this whole school in the first place. I think it''s time to cash in on that favor.¡± ¡ª ¡°Absolutely not,¡± Devola said, her hair flying upwards in indignation. ¡°And I refuse to delay the final round any further. The fans are getting quite impatient.¡± ¡°They¡¯ll be fine,¡± Momo said, her voice coming out a lot smaller than intended. She had been so full of conviction when she started her journey towards the Judges¡¯ Panel, but by the time she managed her way to the top, her body had nearly decomposed. She was bent over like a hunchback squirrel. ¡°You don¡¯t get it, Devola. That woman is part of Kyros¡¯s army. She¡¯s an Excalibur. She shouldn¡¯t even be fighting in this league.¡± On the stage, Slythorn was slicing her blades across each other, creating a nails-on-chalkboard scratchingly metallic sound. Half the audience had their ears covered. So did the referee, who looked tiredly towards Devola. She threw a finger back at him. One more moment, she mouthed. The Necrodancer set her cup of juice down, sighed, and beckoned Momo to a more discreet corner of the Judges¡¯ Booth. ¡°If I¡¯m being honest, Kyros-schmyros the last thing I care about right now,¡± she said, her voice lowered considerably. ¡°I hear that Trent has run off. I¡¯m ¨C I¡¯m worried sick about him.¡± Momo felt a lump of pity lodge itself in her stomach. Creased, wrinkly lines ran under the woman''s eyes; her stature was heavy like Sisyphus. She hadn¡¯t seen Devola this drained since the Dawn. Back then, the only thing that had reinvigorated her spirit was the chance to tutor Trent. It had been like giving an abandoned lighthouse a boat to guide. ¡°But Culver told me you refused to talk to him,¡± Momo said, prodding slightly. ¡°Of course I did,¡± she scoffed, but her voice was thick and watery as she spoke. ¡°He nearly killed my second best student. I had instructed the students very specifically ¨C their aim in this contest was to practice and better themselves ¨C not to go all ego-maniac and destroy their competition. The Deathly part of Dance Recital excites and draws crowds, but that does not mean we need to pursue it. Tension is what counts in an event like this, not finality.¡± She pulled something out of her pocket. It was a crumpled poster. She handed it to Momo. It read Join the Holy Resistance ¨C Become Powerful Beyond Your Imagination. Under that attention-grabbing headline were a few examples of such power, like Reach Expert Level in Three Days or Less, and Make Your Enemies Cower Before You. Momo wrinkled her nose. It read like a weight-loss advertisement you¡¯d find in a tabloid magazine. She was surprised it didn¡¯t include a free trial for some magical, performance-enhancing beans. ¡°I found this in Trent¡¯s room. It was the only thing left of his belongings,¡± Devola said, her throat bobbing up and down. "He even took Cerberus, the poor mutt." Momo studied the parchment, flipping it around to check for secret messages in the margins. ¡°You think he fell for this?¡± ¡°I¡¯d hope he¡¯s smarter than that,¡± she said, pursing her lips. ¡°But given that he just tried to assassinate his classmate, I¡¯m having my doubts. He is a teenager, after all.¡± Growing antsy, the referee called out to Devola from the audience. ¡°Are we ready yet, boss?¡± Devola paused, a shadow crossing her face. She sighed and grabbed the wand-phone. ¡°A slight change of plans,¡± she said, her voice echoing into the crowds and across the hilltops. ¡°Whoever wins this round will face one more foe ¨C¡± Devola covered the device and turned to Momo, eyebrows furrowed. ¡°What do you go by now? Valerica was always calling you so many cute nicknames." ¡°Momo is just fine, Queen Momo if you feel like it might build some anticipation ¨C¡± ¡°Ah yes. Our semi-finalist will face the new un-democratically-elected tyrant of our nation, unbeloved necromancer, and waif-like winner of her hearts, Queen Momo the Ripper,¡± Devola said, her curls flourishing in the air like a ginger medusa. ¡°May the Queen¡¯s feet be swift, and her dagger-dodging instincts be swifter.¡± Momo gawked at her, her eyes nearly emptying their sockets. Devola would be a terrible PR rep. ¡°Seriously? You didn¡¯t have to call me a tyrant,¡± Momo muttered. She could practically feel her approval numbers dropping. ¡°And it wasn¡¯t like Jarva was democratically elected either.¡± ¡°Trust me dear, the most successful political campaigns start with a redemption arc,¡± Devola grinned. ¡°It is much easier to start a villain than end as one." She tapped her chin as if another, more relevant thought had just struck her. "This all does require that you win, of course.¡± Momo buried her head in her hands. Devola laughed, gave her a reassuring hip bump, and leaned into the mic. "Let the Semi-Final Match begin!" 165 – Behind The Mask Desmond had a knife in his kneecap before he could even shimmy his hips. Slythorn rolled her eyes as the boy collapsed, the bell dinged, and Devola certified the match over. The whole ordeal gave Momo very little time to regain her strength. She was already being ushered towards the stage before it had been wiped clean of Desmond¡¯s blood. ¡°Show ¡®er what you¡¯re made of, your highness,¡± Grimli said, tugging on the back of Momo¡¯s cloak as she limped onto the stage. ¡°And watch out for that bracelet of hers. Dwarven engineering, it is.¡± ¡°Wait ¨C it¡¯s what?¡± Momo snapped her head to look at him. But Grimli was already being taken away by stage security, shoved into the crowd with the rest of the groupies. Slythorn opted out of the staircase entirely, jumping onto the stage with a single, elegant hop. It was clear her Dexterity was higher than average. Why would a Knight of the Sun have such an emphasis on Dexterity, though? Not to mention her affinity for knives. It wasn¡¯t adding up. If Momo were to take her skills at face value, she¡¯d assume her to be some kind of rogue. Not to mention their supposed connection. Momo had turned the exhausted cogs of her mind around it for days since, and the only plausible culprit she could think of was one of the thieves she met back in Nam¡¯Dal, somehow masquerading as a Knight of the Sun to achieve her own ends. It wouldn¡¯t be a hard camouflage to pull off nowadays, Momo imagined, given that most of the Knights were on an entirely different continent. But what did a thief gain from pushing Kyros¡¯s agenda? That was where her train of thought hit a sharp, ragged corner. Certainly neither Mordecai nor Morgana would be fond of a stunt like that. Either way, it seemed like an awkward route to success ¨C it¡¯d make much more sense for an opportunistic rogue to try to rise to power under Momo¡¯s regime instead of at odds with it. I must be missing something. Momo frowned. A few feet from her, Slythorn adjusted her white mask. Without the distraction of the silly headgear, the face covering was truly an eerie thing ¨C with a mouth made out of handcrafted clay, splayed out and faintly grinning; Momo could see why Grimli had been shivering in his socks about it. The whole of her was hidden like a scar under heavy foundation. The woman¡¯s hands were gloved, revealing barely a hint of skin. The only thing Momo could deduce about her was that she was thin, muscular, and just slightly taller than herself. Even her hair was covered under a silk scarf, her ankles dressed in sheer leggings and topped with white robes. It was a dense costume, obviously intended to conceal as much as possible. No matter who hid underneath it, the wearer clearly had a secret to protect. ¡°Aren¡¯t you going to say something vaguely menacing like we meet again?¡± Momo teased, steadying her voice to conceal just how weak she was feeling. ¡°I feel like it¡¯d match the whole persona you¡¯ve got going on.¡± ¡°Would that amuse you, Momo?¡± Slythorn replied, her hand caressing the tip of her knife. ¡°Maybe a little bit,¡± Momo said. ¡°But I¡¯m not really in the mood to be amused. I¡¯m really in the mood to figure out why a thief is all dressed up in that ridiculous costume posing as some big Kyros-head. You must have a good reason. I imagine it¡¯s humid as hell under all that fabric.¡± Slythorn¡¯s hand stilled on her knife. Got you. Momo grinned. ¡°That¡¯s what I thought,¡± Momo said, grinning slightly. ¡°Aren¡¯t you clever,¡± Slythorn hummed. ¡°But not clever enough to consider my offer?¡± ¡°Seriously? The one where I hand over the keys to the Queendom to you without knowing a single thing about your organization or your intentions? Sue me for having more than one brain cell,¡± Momo mumbled, rolling her eyes. ¡°You¡¯re going to have to throw in a few freebies at the very least if you¡¯re going to get me on board.¡± Slythorn laughed darkly under her mask. Momo would have said it reminded her of a Bond villain, only she¡¯d never seen a James Bond movie. Such films were strictly banned for the children of the Lim household, deemed too fun by her parents, who, when they went about learning English, decided they didn¡¯t need extraneous words like scary or adult or pg-13. Fun did the job perfectly well, even if it did confuse any and all classmates who came over to Momo¡¯s house and found a stack of DVDs labeled too fun in the corner. Still, despite her imprisonment in the not fun corner of the movie shelf, she had heard that expression a lot growing up: like a Bond Villain. Even her parents liked to use it. They heard their new American friends throw it around. So Momo¡¯s vivid imagination filled in the blanks: someone sexy, sly, mischievous, evil. She didn¡¯t know that Slythorn was sexy, probably not, but she fit the bill otherwise; what with her dark laughter, diabolic aura, et cetera. ¡°I can think of a few freebies. That boy, what was his name ¨C Trent?¡± Slythorn said after a considering moment, slotting her dagger into her holster and bringing Momo back to the reality of the situation. ¡°If you come to our side now, we¡¯ll spare him. If you take your time, I can¡¯t make any promises. The Holy Resistance charges interest on stupidity.¡± Nevermind, Momo thought, reassessing her opponent. Threatening children ¨C that was decidedly not Bondesque. No, she sounded like a cartoon villain. One dimensional and ineffective. The ridiculous dark affect on her voice; the low, mirthy octaves; the recited textbook-bad-guy lines. It was all an elaborate maze of misdirections. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. She¡¯s just playing a role, Momo thought, her eyes narrowing. She¡¯s running a scheme on me and everybody else here. ¡°I would never want to work with someone that would threaten to kill a child over something as stupid as a kingdom,¡± Momo said, glaring. ¡°Plus, I don¡¯t believe you. I think your whole getup is a sham. You¡¯re not going to actually kill anyone.¡± ¡°Oh, Momo,¡± Slythorn sighed. ¡°You always have been so beautifully naive.¡± For just a moment, the woman¡¯s voice dipped into her natural tone. It was creamy and smooth, and it pinged Momo¡¯s memory like a beacon in a dark sea. She saw a flash of a woman sitting on a bedside, jovially retelling stories, her raven hair falling over her stunning face. ¡°Wait,¡± Momo said, her hands falling slack to her sides. ¡°Nia?¡± As recognition hit her like a truck, the match bell rang out. Momo had no time to think. A dagger came flying at her faster than she could say the other woman¡¯s name aloud. She shoved the realization aside, casting [Focus] as she flung out of the way of the gleaming tip of the knife. Even at her evolved level of Dexterity, the blade still managed to chip her on the cheek, leaving a sharp, scathing line of blood running below her eye. She saw red when she blinked. Momo¡¯s next few thoughts came in rapid staccato. [Focus] tended to have that effect. Every moment blended in with the next, colors went from vibrant neons to grayscale. Weak, feeble thoughts like I don¡¯t know if I¡¯m fast enough were jumbled in the great blender of her subconscious, turning into such behemoth instructions like getoutofthewaymoverightmoveleftjumpup like she was operating Mario on a joystick. Only she was Mario. Nia threw dagger after dagger, her brow creasing with exhaustion each time Momo flung herself out of the way with graceless agility. The crowd was eating up, slobbering over Momo¡¯s performance like she had choreographed it herself, slaved over it like a trainee at an idol workshop. ¡°Stay still, you rabbit,¡± Nia spat, throwing out a shuriken. She had emptied herself of daggers. "You''re wasting my perfectly good equipment." Momo dodged the shuriken with a skip and a hop, the star piercing into wood and joining its many metal brethren. By now, seven blade hilts stuck out of the wood like overly long nails. Momo felt quite like a dartboard at a dingy sports bar. Nia was down on the count, only a few beer-stained darts left, and running out of options. Still, Momo couldn¡¯t relax. Even when she wasn¡¯t Mana-drained, Nia was a formidable opponent beyond what she usually went up against ¨C disturbingly fast, agile, and intelligent. The only way she¡¯d evaded her before was with Valerica¡¯s help. ¡°That doesn¡¯t look much like dancing,¡± Devola suggested into the microphone, jolting both Momo and Nia from their back-and-forth. ¡°You both better show me some real performance or I¡¯ll serve you with a mutual disqualification.¡± Crap. Reaching into the darkest depths of her [Focused] mind, Momo remembered the dance class Dae-hyun took in high school ¨C back when he was certain he¡¯d go professional as a hip-hop artist. She had forced down the memory for obvious reasons, too much second-hand embarrassment, but it bubbled to the top of her consciousness at that very critical moment. ¡°Momo, your footwork is so bad,¡± Dae had whined, pushing at her shoulders and running back the track ¨C One Dance by Drake it had been. That song had an unholy grip on 2016. ¡°I don¡¯t even know why I¡¯m doing this with you.¡± ¡°Because you want your favorite brother to succeed,¡± he had said. ¡°Now, one, two, three¡­¡± Muscle memory ran through her veins, and she began to instinctually shuffle her feet side to side, shrugging her shoulders back as she did so. She could practically feel Dae¡¯s comments and critiques in the back of her head, his disembodied voice haunting from beyond the pale. Needs more swag, he¡¯d say, and she¡¯d groan. Still, somehow, the rhythm guided her. Then ¨C woosh. Another shuriken soared straight for her neck, but Momo felt it coming. She swayed out of the way with ease. The simple back-and-forth movement helped her calm down and tap into the Nether surrounding her. She could see Nia¡¯s soul chain rippling back and forth like a sea serpent as she darted around the stage. ¡°Just give in already,¡± Nia seethed, punctuating each word with a step taken towards her. To Momo¡¯s surprise, she bounded off the wooden platform, twirling and landing in front of her. Before Momo could react, she had her final dagger pressed to Momo¡¯s throat. Cold steel on hot flesh. ¡°Die,¡± Nia said. Momo yelped, catching the other woman¡¯s wrist with an urgency. She poured every last bit of her strength into keeping the blade from piercing the soft tissue under her chin. Still, Nia''s strength was greater; a choking sensation began to build in her throat, the pressure mounting. ¡°I don¡¯t understand why you¡¯re doing this,¡± Momo choked out. ¡°We¡¯re on the same team.¡± Nia scowled, pressing harder. Momo met her with equal and opposite force; the two of them were a trembling mess of muscle, two rocks pressed up against each other in an imminent avalanche. ¡°We¡¯ve never been on the same team,¡± Nia said coldly. While her expression was hidden behind her mask, Momo could see the betraying desperateness in her eyes. ¡°You became my enemy the moment you chose to follow Valerica.¡± ¡°But Valerica saved you ¨C¡± ¡°She didn¡¯t save me. Sera saved me,¡± she growled. ¡°And if you hadn¡¯t gotten in the way of our plan, I wouldn¡¯t have needed saving. After the missiles hit, I spent months in the Nether, my soul in stasis, stuck in a sanity-destroying bubble between life and death. But then you just so conveniently wrote a new law into existence¡­¡± Nia pressed the blade harder. Momo could feel its poison tip on her skin. ¡°The law that finally elevated my true mother to power. That gave her the opportunity to finally pluck us from that prison and give us a second chance at doing this right¡­¡± The tip of the knife felt like a lawnmower on raw skin. Momo tried swallowing down the pain, but her grip was wavering. She wouldn¡¯t be able to fight Nia off on pure strength alone for much longer. Wait. She looked down to Nia¡¯s feet. They weren¡¯t moving. Even with the blade pressed to her throat, Momo had managed to keep her shoulders rotating at the very least, her hips circling. If she could just keep her flailing fish of a physical form moving for a little longer; keep Nia distracted for just another fleeting moment in time ¨C ¡°You know, you¡¯ve ruined my life as many times as you¡¯ve saved it,¡± Nia said, the crisp, dry clay of her mask nearly pressed to Momo¡¯s forehead. ¡°I can¡¯t decide if I should kill you or thank you, really. So I¡¯ll settle for both.¡± Nia pressed with all of her bodyweight, and Momo¡¯s grip gave in. ¡°Thank you,¡± Nia said. Momo could practically hear her smiling. ¡°Thank you for everything.¡± The jagged metal edge pierced Momo¡¯s flesh just as Devola tapped the microphone, causing an overwhelming static noise to fill the area. ¡°Slythorn has been disqualified for a lack of dancing,¡± Devola announced, her voice as clear and revealing as daylight. ¡°Queen Momo wins.¡± ¡°Wait, what?¡± 166 – A Small History of Alois Momo gagged, clawing her fingers around her throat. A tinny, metallic flavor melted across her tongue. Blood. Nausea overcame her as she hit the platform. In the small window of vision that remained, she could see Slythorn angrily leap from the stage and disappear past the crowds, shoving people aside as she vanished into the woods. ¡°Wait,¡± Momo moaned hoarsely, her trembling hand reaching out towards the woman. I have so many questions. But Nia was gone. Another shadow in the dense thickets of trees. It wasn¡¯t long before the medics were upon her. Cupping her jaw and applying soothing gel; Momo was immediately carried onto a cot and transported into yet another tent, the cheers and chants of the rabid audience following her all the way to the zip-up flap of the tent¡¯s entrance. For some, shouting was not enough; eager groupies tried to shove their hands and feet into the tent like wild animals, but the Dance School¡¯s hired detachment of security paladins ¨C burly, not-to-be-messed-with sort of men and women with long white beards and shaved bald heads ¨C shooed them away like meager rats and lizards. The fans retreated, but Momo could still hear their calls and melodious shouts, led, of course, by an inconsolable Grimli. ¡°Quite a ruckus you¡¯ve caused,¡± the White Mage from earlier commented dryly, giving Momo an impressed smirk. ¡°Bruda hasn¡¯t seen an upset like this in quite a few seasons now.¡± ¡°That¡¯s the understatement of the century, Marjorie. I¡¯ve been working this recital for three seasons in a row and I¡¯ve yet to have fans try and tear down my tarp,¡± another mage added, his face puffy and red as he secured the wall of the tent. ¡°This is just madness. Next season will be even worse once they hear about the outcome of this one. A queen, goddamnit. Couldn''t you have been something usually-unusual, like a prince or a dance-happy dwarf?¡± Momo would have laughed, but to laugh in her current state probably would have meant decapitation. The gash in her neck was deep, and even breathing was a laborious task. She settled on an awkward smile as the chief medic lowered her into the bed and began to inspect her injury. ¡°You have scar tissue in this exact same place already,¡± the chief medic noted curiously, thumbing under her chin ¡°Are you a fan of getting your neck split open, your highness?¡± Momo bit her lip in embarrassment, her skin tingling at the memory. Despite intellectually knowing better, she couldn''t help but smile a little bit. That was where Sumire nearly slotted my head off. She forced herself to frown. I really shouldn¡¯t be smiling about that. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t go that far,¡± Momo said, her voice hoarse. ¡°I just keep walking into other people¡¯s knives, that¡¯s all.¡± The medic laughed, paging through his clipboard. ¡°You¡¯re a funny one. Especially for a queen. I thought it was a rule of law that royalty had to be cold and rather stupid when it came to humor. Not you, though. Then again, I never thought I¡¯d be operating on a queen at a dance competition. Apothecary school doesn¡¯t prepare you for situations like these.¡± He took out a small reflex hammer and tested her knee. It swung upwards automatically, nearly kicking the scraggly mustache off of his face. He didn¡¯t flinch ¨C simply humming as he went about testing the other knee, then her thigh, which luckily did not come alive. He seemed concerned about this fact. ¡°Do you have any previous ter-mi-nal ailments?¡± ¡°Like, diseases?¡± ¡°Sure. Or long-term magical poisoning.¡± Momo''s stomach dipped. I didn¡¯t realize that was a thing I could get. ¡°Not that I know of, no.¡± He hummed, testing her thigh again. It remained as thoroughly unresponsive as a thigh tended to be. ¡°Well, if your thigh continues to do that ¨C as in, nothing ¨C you might want to have it checked out,¡± he said. ¡°An unmoving thighmicular muscle is a principal symptom of magically-induced poisoning.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t think my thigh has ever not done that, sir,¡± Momo said. ¡°As in, done anything other than nothing. Except when I move it around when I walk. Then it does move. But it doesn¡¯t have any kind of mind of its own, is all I¡¯m trying to say. I feel stupider the more I try to describe this.¡± He nodded slowly, wrestling his fingers through his scraggly beard in concern. ¡°Might be a vitamin deficiency of some kind, then¡­¡± he trailed off, paging through his notes for a couple seconds until he came up empty. ¡°Oh well. Like I said, they don¡¯t prepare you in apothecary school for half the rattles and shakes of real life. Sometimes thighs don¡¯t have reflexes, and that¡¯s just that.¡± ¡°I can imagine,¡± Momo sympathized, despite not having a clue. ¡°My college didn¡¯t prepare me for this kind of thing either. Being a queen, fighting to the death, any of it, really.¡± ¡°Oh yeah?¡± the medic tipped his eyebrow up. ¡°Where¡¯d you go to school? Anywhere I¡¯d know?¡± ¡°Nah,¡± Momo said, wincing as she heaved herself upwards. ¡°It¡¯s a little far from here.¡± ¡ª After a few stitches and a lot of questions about her medical history that Momo couldn¡¯t answer, the mages and medics certified her well enough to stumble back out into the world. The security paladins ushered her through the crowds and she felt like a proper celebrity ¨C like Rihanna on her way to the Met Gala, only Momo was dressed more appropriately to be plopped into an open grave. Her white hair was nearly muddied brunette and knotted to all hell, sitting in a low bun that resembled an abandoned bird¡¯s nest. She was eternally grateful for Alois¡¯s lack of iPhones, or else she was certain she¡¯d end up on the front page of the Mekna Gazette looking like a pizza that got tossed around in a delivery bag. Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. ¡°O¡¯Momo, O¡¯Momo, Great Shimmier of Hips, You Danced Into Our Life And Left Our Hearts Smashed to Bits!¡± Of course, what Alois lacked in cell phones, it made up for in embarrassing bards. ¡°Please be quiet, Grimli,¡± Momo begged softly, pulling the dwarf aside as she made it to the perimeter of the crowd. Spotting the dwarf, a security paladin looked at her as if to say is he bothering you, ma¡¯am? But Momo shook her head solemnly no, so he backed off. ¡°Oh, Momo, we were all terribly worried about you,¡± he said, sighing dramatically. ¡°But on the bright side, my writer¡¯s block is completely gone. I was so derailed by my grief that the words just came flooding out like little boats lost at sea. Ah ¨C see, even when I don¡¯t mean to speak poetry, it comes flowing out of my lips like a fated breeze!¡± Momo grimaced. Maybe I should just leave him here. Of course, being Momo, she did not. She took him and her belongings back to the Dance School, stood under a hot, blistering shower, and hunted down the most remote studio room she could find, lounging around in just her bathrobe as she reviewed her Ruler System to see the outcome of the victory.
Entire Continent ¨C De Jure Holding Control Rating: 15% Projected Control Rating in 10 Days: 35%
Momo grinned, a burst of glee hitting her chest. I did it. It would take some time for the news of her victory to travel by mouth throughout the continent, but once it did, she would be in a much better position than she started. A resounding 35% control rating of the entire continent. As the warmth of her success trailed off, a question brewed in her mind. ¡°Wait, does this continent not¡­ have a name?¡± she asked the parchment. ¡°I¡¯ve never heard anyone use it. It¡¯s always Jarva this, Jarva that¡­¡± The ink on the page whirled around.
The name of this continent was formerly Aloysius, named after the Hero of legend, but when Jarva came into power, he made it Law that it would be referred to simply as Jarva¡¯s Empire, Jarva¡¯s Kingdom, or the Kingdom of Jarvirium, etc.
¡°Wow, what a pompous asshole,¡± Momo said. The text swirled once more.
Would you like to review the historical record of this event? As a Ruler, you can review documents that live within your holding¡¯s libraries. This includes all decrees from previous rulers.
¡°Um¡­ Yes. Sure.¡±
This was the official declaration the people of Aloysius when King Jarva changed the name:
Greetings citizens, I come to you with an important decree. I view it as rather stupid and overcomplicated that both our entire world (Alois) and this realm that I rule (Aloysius) should both be named after the same Hero. I figure it this way ¨C a heroic figure deserves one namesake, surely, but two? There are simply too many heroes for this to be the case. We don¡¯t have enough land or enough weapons, and certainly not enough concepts, for each important figure to have two lofty things named after him or herself. And, to be really and truly blunt, it is a matter of acoustics. Does it not bother your ears like it bothers mine to think that we live on the continent of Aloysius, within the world of Alois? How can our Kingdom truly rise to greatness if we are barely differentiated from the world with which we live in? If anything, Kyros should be the one we name our lands after, not a mere mortal man. As such, I will be changing the name of this continent to Jarva¡¯s Kingdom, or Kyros¡¯s Kingdom Ruled by Jarva, or other such synonyms, for the sake of simplicity and understanding. Any and all comments and complaints about this change can be directed to my correctional offices, as that is where you will remain if you have comments or complaints. Dearest regards, The Office Of The King ¡°Wow,¡± Momo said dryly, reading it back a few times. ¡°That was simultaneously both informative and incredibly annoying.¡± He must be like a Level 200 Demagogue, Momo thought. As much as it pained her to admit, she could probably learn a lot from reviewing his other decrees. He had a way of putting the most idiotic and atrocious ideas in the most palatable and persuasive means possible. Shoving the parchment aside, she made a mental note to reverse this decree in her free time one of these days. She couldn¡¯t have people referring to the land as Jarva¡¯s. That would be terrible for her campaign. Now, something like Morgana¡¯s Mortal Empire upon Alois ¨C that just rolled right off the tongue, did it not? ¡ª With her bags packed and her resident bard busy finishing up his last bag of carnival snacks, Momo headed for the carriage stables. They¡¯d take another carriage over to Snowdrop Village, where Grimli hoped they could find a capable mechanic to fix up his vehicle. Then, he claimed, they could travel the rest of the campaign trail in a quarter of the time ¨C by the sheer visceral power of dwarven engineering! ¡°I hope you weren¡¯t meaning to leave without saying goodbye, Momo.¡± Biscuit ¨C and thus Momo ¨C jumped in surprise when she heard Devola¡¯s voice behind her. She turned her head to find the woman leaning on the side of the carriage, twirling an envelope in her hand. ¡°Oh, um, of course not,¡± Momo lied. In fact, Momo had meant to leave without saying goodbye. They were already running late for their next stop, and knowing Devola, she¡¯d just get Momo involved in something that would delay their travels further. It was one of her prime qualities, really. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯m not insulted,¡± she said, strolling up to Momo. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t be the first to up and leave me in the past few days.¡± Trent. A pit of regret sat low in Momo¡¯s gut. She had nearly forgotten about him. ¡°We¡¯ll find him,¡± Momo assured her. ¡°If he really did run off with the Holy Resistance, I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll be running into him soon. I¡¯ll get him safely back here, pinky-promise.¡± She extended a pinky. Devola eyed it peculiarly. ¡°I don¡¯t require your pinky, Momo. You can keep it. But I am touched that you would offer me a sacrificial limb.¡± Momo quickly put her pinky aside. ¡°Right, well,¡± Momo swallowed. ¡°Will you be okay here? Without him?¡± ¡°Oh, I¡¯ll manage. I¡¯d leave my post to look for him myself, but I learned long ago that one must not chase students. If they are truly dedicated to the practice, they will learn from their mistakes and return in time,¡± she said. ¡°But I will worry, of course. I always do.¡± She gave Momo a sad smile. Momo felt like hugging her, but didn¡¯t. Sensing Momo¡¯s apprehension, Devola reached out instead, pulling her into a surprisingly soft embrace. A sense of safety and calm washed over her, but it left Momo with an oddly hollow, misplaced sort of warmth; she found herself wishing the hug was from someone else. She wasn¡¯t sure who, exactly. When they parted, Devola caressed Momo¡¯s hand, placing the envelope there. ¡°It¡¯s from a friend at Bruda¡¯s rehabilitation center,¡± she said, smirking. ¡°I recently closed down the facility ¨C it was mostly falsely imprisoned necromancers, who would have guessed ¨C but one resident in particular wanted to write to you. I trust you¡¯ll know what to do with it.¡± Momo looked at her with confusion. Before she could ask who that particular resident was, Devola was off, walking like a ghostly ballerina back towards the city that had become her new home. In place of an answer, Momo looked down at the envelope. In the corner of it was a signature, written gracefully in blood red. Duchess Lione Baumfreund 167 – Memories Are Like Wasp Nests As their carriage ambled along the untrodden road towards Snowdrop Village, a courier whizzed in through the side of the vehicle, landing in Momo¡¯s land with a plop. She looked at it quizzically; she was just about to inspect Lione¡¯s letter before its intrusion, but given it could be a message from Sumire, she put the envelope aside and took a look at the parchment instead.
Congratulations! For showcasing an unparalleled amount of artistry in your dance choreography, not to mention avoiding death while doing so, your Minor Class, [Artist], has been upgraded to Level 3. Yes, you still have that class, best you not forget about it! You have gained the skill [Patron of the Arts] [Patron of the Arts]: Sensing your appreciation for the arts, artists naturally gravitate towards you; you can more easily convince great artists and muses to let you browse their collections, enter their homes, meet their friends, or teach you skills. Yawnica, Goddess of the Arts, has also bestowed upon you a Blessing for your victory in a much regarded dance competition. [Blessing of An Artist¡¯s Eye For Detail]: For 24 hours, you are able to detect oddities in the world that others would not.
¡°Oddities in the world¡­¡± Momo repeated aloud. ¡°What is that supposed to mean?¡± ¡°Like a beardless dwarf,¡± Grimli added helpfully. ¡°Or a spider with seven legs instead a¡¯ eight.¡± ¡°Uh huh.¡± ¡°Or a bard who refuses to sing,¡± Grimli said with astonishment, as if this was the most inconceivable thing to him, out of all the possible inconceiveabilities. ¡°I heard a legend about that once. About an undead bard named Oreo whose throat went dry after he lost his wife Euridititties. Couldn¡¯t bring himself to sing a single note.¡± Momo nearly choked on her own spit. ¡°Oreo and Euridititties?¡± ¡°A strange pair, aren¡¯t they?¡± He must mean Orpheus and Eurydice, Momo thought, staring at him speechlessly. She couldn''t decide what was more unnerving to her ¨C that earthly Greek myth had managed to successfully permeate through the Nether, or that the game of telephone it played to get here was so severe that its resulting version would be enough to anger the Gods back home. ¡°Pray that never happens to your dear Grimli, won¡¯t you, your highness?¡± Grimli said, batting his eyelashes. ¡°You have a more direct connection to the Nether than any other I¡¯ve come across in my days, I¡¯m sure you could make a few quick calls to secure the fate of my feeble throat.¡± Momo sighed, holding her face in her hands. ¡°If I could call up the Nether so easily, I promise there are other things I¡¯d ask about first.¡± Grimli looked aghast. Momo immediately felt bad. ¡°Kidding, Grimli,¡± she lied. ¡°Of course I¡¯d ask Morgana about your vocal chords.¡± ¡ª When Momo had visualized a place named Snowdrop Village, she had seen something out of a Mario Kart level ¨C cheerful snowmen, icy roads paved with the occasional banana peel. Some place merry and buoyant, where Christmas, or the Aloysian equivalent, was celebrated year-round. As it turned out, Snowdrop was quite like a rotting apple wrapped in paper and bows. As the carriage came to a jolting stop at the end of the unpaved road, Momo and Grimli were immediately greeted by an assortment of drunk men dressed in costume. They were wearing fleecy, snow white garments and cloud-like hats. Silver-tipped teeth stuck out of their mouths. ¡°O¡¯welcome to Snowdrop, Ms. Momo, we heard you¡¯d be coming,¡± one of these faux-jolly fellows greeted her, shaking her hand firmly. ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯d be happy to pay tribute to the Goddess Guinevere?¡± The man stuck out a tin can and jostled it, coins rattling about inside. ¡°Um¡­¡± Momo trailed off, knowing she was being scammed but not entirely sure what to do about it. She wasn¡¯t used to this type of shakedown scheme; the men looked more like street performers than Nam¡¯Dalian crooks. ¡°I haven¡¯t heard of that goddess before, sorry. What¡¯s her domain?¡± ¡°Why, you don¡¯t know about the finest goddess of the pantheon? The creator of snow and rain and sleet, fury and wrath and the seasons?¡± another man chimed in, aghast. ¡°Just for that disgrace alone, you should make an urgent tribute, less you want to face Guinevere¡¯s wrath.¡± Grimli snorted, pulling a paper bill out of his pouch and stuffing it into the open can. It was a one hundred gold bill, and the men went positively dizzy with excitement, immediately tearing into each other about their share of the spoils. While they were distracted, Grimli waved to the carriage driver. Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. ¡°I¡¯ll pay you triple your regular fee to transport my vehicle somewhere safe and nondescript,¡± Grimli proposed hastily, folding his arms over the front-passenger window. ¡°And don¡¯t think about running off with it, or else you won¡¯t get the other half of the payment, you hear?¡± The driver took a look at Grimli¡¯s palm, counting the bills. With a gruff nod, he was on his way, tugging the dwarven monstrosity behind him. Grimli let out a relieved breath. ¡°Come on, your highness,¡± he said, pulling Momo¡¯s sleeve and beckoning her towards the town. ¡°Let¡¯s get on with it before I run out of all the coin I took off those Magelegs groupies.¡± ¡ª ¡°What is this place?¡± Momo mumbled. The drunk men turned out to be the rule, not the exception. Nearly every resident of Snowdrop Village wore the same assortment of ivory clothing ¨C distended vests, puffy joggers, boots with icicles jutting out of the outsole; only their celebration of this Guinevere never quite seemed genuine. It was more like a front in fear of possible divine retribution. ¡°Have you really never heard of Guinevere?¡± Grimli said, surprised. ¡°Not once.¡± ¡°Hm. Close as you are to Morgana, I¡¯m surprised she never brought her up,¡± he said, turning the corner towards the center of town, where a seven foot statue of the goddess stood, shining in marble. ¡°She was one of the first goddesses that Morgana created, born of her desire for change in the despairing stillness of the void.¡± ¡°Created?¡± Momo¡¯s eyes bulged. She had forgotten that Kyros was not Morgana¡¯s only experiment. It was a crazy thing to conceptualize, really, that every other god and goddess in existence at some point stemmed from her; that Morgana was the beating heart of everything, the seed of dozens upon dozens of wayward deities. ¡°O¡¯course, created. That¡¯s the power of Nether, ain¡¯t it? To create life, take it away, et cetera,¡± Grimli said, making an obscene gesture with his hands that attempted to signify such a process. ¡°Plus, it wasn¡¯t like she had much else to do. Quite a lonely place the Nether was in those days. Especially after her pet cat ran off, poor godly lass.¡± Momo winced in memory, recalling the museum exhibit she attended not long ago. Of course, before there was a pantheon, before Morgana thought to dismember herself to create others, there was simply a woman, a child, really ¨C lonely and abandoned. A person who tore herself apart to make a few friends. And in her time of need, the fabric of the universe untying itself like a shoddy knit sweater, those friends left her just like she was eons before. Alone. Momo felt a thrash of sick, nauseating sadness just thinking about it. But she had done something about it, Momo reminded herself. She promoted Valerica for a reason. The Necromage was somewhere up there ¨C or down there, or wherever ¨C helping her mend the seams of reality. ¡°She''s not so lonely these days,¡± Momo said, imagining Sera, Valerica, and the elusive Azrael all working together like a team of preschoolers attempting to finish a class project on time. ¡°I¡¯m sure she has plenty of stuff to distract her from the ¨C how did you put it ¨C despairing stillness of the void.¡± ¡°Ah, that¡¯s for certain, lass,¡± Grimli said. ¡°And she¡¯s got us to watch over as well. Can¡¯t have her mortal chickens running out of their coop. But that¡¯s what she¡¯s got you for, of course. You¡¯re her very own heavenly appointed farm dog.¡± Momo laughed. In his own weird way, he was right. Valerica was doing her part, now Momo just had to do hers. Redeem the name of the goddess to the very race she had mothered: the easily pliable, hateful, indifferent mortals. Momo never thought she¡¯d view the human race in that way, but it was hard not to, knowing Morgana the way she did now. There was something about the woman ¨C the Goddess ¨C that Momo felt oddly, unexplainably protective of, as if she was her own ailing mother. Momo tightly coiled her hands into fists, her thoughts suddenly drifting to her family back on Earth. She shoved the memories down as best she could, letting the sounds of the boisterous town square wash over her; hawkers shelling raincoats and snowboots yelled out to them, advertising their weathered wares, but Momo¡¯s subconscious was attacking her like wasps, images of her mother and her father and her brother swarming her. ¡°You okay there, your highness?¡± Grimli asked, giving her a pitying expression as they walked. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to scare you with all that talk. If you get any paler, people¡¯ll think you¡¯re a walking vampire. Maybe we should take a seat and sweat out the cold.¡± ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± she lied, schooling her mouth into a line. ¡°Let¡¯s just get to the event area.¡± She wasn¡¯t fine, of course. As much as she tried to resist it, thoughts of her family had been stinging like bees for days, sneaking into her subconscious like ants through cracked plaster. Something about Devola and Trent felt like the universe had held a mirror to her worst moments; played back a reel of failed daughterhood. There was no denying it ¨C Momo had been a raging disappointment back on Earth. A failing art student with crippling social anxiety who never called home. Never sent a greeting card on Chuseok. Never texted back. Her dad would always check in, every Sunday, seven PM on the dot, but she had been too embarrassed to say anything in return. Every message he sent ended in Read. She knew it hurt his feelings, but she couldn''t bring herself to do anything different. It wasn¡¯t malicious ¨C it was the opposite. She had wanted nothing more to exist like a perfect figment in his imagination. Forever the eight year old girl whose art he pinned on the fridge. Reality had a way of ruining perfect things like that, so she stopped letting it, one missed text after the next. But it didn¡¯t end up mattering, did it? Eventually, she was gone. Teleported. Transported. Just like that. No SMS message that your daughter just transmigrated to a new world, you¡¯ll probably never see her again. Would he have preferred knowing she was a failure to not knowing her at all? She took a shaky breath in. She could see the sign marking their visit in the distance, a welcome tent for Queen Momo and Associates. Just keep walking. After all, it was here, on Alois, where she could change things. Where she could get her second chance. And hey, maybe myths and legends of Momo¡¯s feats would travel through the webs of Nether like the tale of Orpheus and Eurydice had, landing in her parent¡¯s old kitchen; maybe they¡¯d smile as they talked about her, not knowing it was her they were talking about; laugh as they retold the story of Coco, Queen of Boloysius. ¡°What a silly name,¡± her mother would probably comment, and her dad would shake his head, saying ¡°every name means something to someone.¡± A wet, boiling heat bubbled in Momo¡¯s throat. She rubbed at her eyes and swallowed it down. For now, she had to focus on what was right in front of her. Learn about the new family she had landed in, odd and disastrous as it was, so she could better protect them. She knew one thing ¨C she wouldn¡¯t be a letdown twice. ¡°Grimli,¡± Momo said, voice shaky but decisive. ¡°I want you to tell me everything you know about Morgana and Guinevere. 168 – Guinevere of the Seasons Grimli, who would never turn down an opportunity to educate, led Momo to a small pit stop ¨C a statue of Guinevere herself, shining in marble; it was hidden away in a gated garden just behind the city¡¯s temple. ¡°Just through here,¡± Grimli said, following the icicle-shaped imprints in the ground like a hunter tracking prey. The more pious the priest, the bigger the icicles in his shoe, Grimli wisely deduced. If they simply followed the footsteps of the devout, it wouldn¡¯t take long before¡­ ¡°Aha!¡± he said, clapping his small, clammy hands together. ¡°We¡¯ve made it.¡± Just as Grimli suspected, the footsteps led them into the hidden garden. The small alcove was strikingly beautiful, like a forest oasis. Momo was particularly struck by the way the shadows fell differently over each plot of flora. Some of the blooms were chilled to ice, others wilting, and a select few flourished like it was the first day of summer. An odd sensation in the back of her head urged her to touch them, so Momo knelt down to inspect the petals of the healthy bunch. They were leathery and pink, like torched flamingo fur. ¡°These are all the same kind of flower,¡± Momo noted, scanning over the entirety of the garden. ¡°But they¡¯re growing so unevenly.¡± She looked upwards, checking the angle of the light streaming in. It was hitting the entire plot, neglecting not a single flower. There were no trees hanging in the way, either. ¡°There isn¡¯t a big difference in the amount of shade they¡¯re getting or the amount of sunlight. Why are they all acting like they¡¯re growing in different climates?¡± ¡°Astute, your highness,¡± he said. ¡°Seems that blessing by Yawnica is coming in handy.¡± Ah, Momo thought. That¡¯s what that weird feeling was. It was as if she was possessed by someone who actually had an attention to detail. ¡°This is where our lesson can begin,¡± Grimli said with his usual lofty, pedantic voice. ¡°Come, sit and gaze upon this paradox of a woman.¡± Momo reluctantly removed herself from the flamingo flowers and joined Grimli on a rain-covered bench, facing the statue. ¡°Oh,¡± Momo said. ¡°I see what you mean.¡± Quite like her indecisive flowerbed, the statue of Guinevere depicted a woman with four heads, each sprouting from their own neck atop her marble torso. Like Trent¡¯s Cerberus, each head had its own sharply distinct expression: one of poise and contentment, another of cold disagreement, the third of blithe indifference, and the fourth of fury and wrath. ¡°She doesn¡¯t actually have four heads,¡± Grimli explained. ¡°It¡¯s a metaphor, of course, for she is a woman of wild mood changes. Wildly charismatic when she¡¯s in the right mood, dire and insufferable if you catch in her the wrong one. But Morgana adored her. They were very close.¡± ¡°Really? Seems like a hard person to be friends with,¡± Momo said, pulling her knees up to her chest, her robes sinking into the wet wood of the bench. Members of the temple strolled in and out, some of them paying tribute in front of the statue. Others simply murmured prayers as they passed. ¡°You would think that,¡± Grimli laughed. ¡°But plenty of us mortals are a lot worse than that, aren¡¯t we? Many of us are in permanently dour moods. Some are chipper and fun, but you can never have a proper conversation with them. We humans, like Morgana, are attracted to a certain amount of chaos and dismay. We require change, in appropriate amounts.¡± ¡°I guess that¡¯s true,¡± Momo said, reflecting on the very people she found herself drawn to. Valerica, Devola, even Sumire ¨C none of them could be described as predictable. If anything, it was their inexplicability that drew Momo in closer, like a fly to a burning hot oil lamp. ¡°But, unfortunately, it was this very unpredictability that ultimately forced them apart,¡± Grimli said, grabbing his lute and strumming a low note for dramatic effect. ¡°Guinevere eventually grew jealous of Morgana¡¯s ownership of the universe. She wanted her own part ¨C her own domain. Morgana, adoring Gwen as she did, let her choose whatever she¡¯d like. But Morgana did not foresee what she would choose.¡± As Grimli spoke, a young boy came to kneel by the statue, his mother standing behind him as he placed a flower at the watery bed of Guinevere¡¯s feet. The flower sat there a moment, floating idly, until the statue moved; Momo watched in shock as a marble hand reached out to grab it, crush it, and let the disintegrated pieces fall back down into the still pool. Momo expected the boy to cry, but he did the opposite, jumping up and down with glee. ¡°Mommy! Guinevere hated my flower!¡± ¡°Well done, my son,¡± she said, scruffing his hair. ¡°Our crops will be delighted to see a refreshing spring shower.¡± They departed, leaving Momo more confused than she started. ¡°I am so lost,¡± Momo mumbled, digesting the scene. She then turned impatiently to Grimli. ¡°So what domain did she choose? Why did they stop being friends?¡± ¡°Well, it requires a small bit of context. Before Guinevere, the mortals frolicked in an eternal evergreen, you see. No one ever had to worry about blankets or jackets or the atrocious elvish invention of the scarf. But then Guinevere gave the mortals seasons. Morgana was completely affronted by the idea.¡± Momo blinked slowly at him. ¡°Their friendship ended over¡­ the existence of winter?¡± ¡°Many mortal friendships end over things like hair brushes or toe nail clippers,¡± Grimli pointed out chastisingly. ¡°So the introduction of winter, fall, autumn, spring¡­ they were a considerable shock to Morgana¡¯s system, you can imagine. She loved her humans very much. She didn¡¯t want to see them suffer through winter all cold and shivering.¡± Momo melted. ¡°She¡¯s so sweet.¡± ¡°Hm. That¡¯s one way to see it. Better yet, how would the mortals forage outside and pick flowers for her altar? How would they have the energy to build shrines out of bone and pour them full of boar blood? It was very hard to worship a goddess when you were deathly malnourished. Such a thing is deeply unmotivating.¡± Momo grimaced. ¡°Okay. Less sweet.¡± ¡°So the two had a little tiff,¡± Grimli shrugged. ¡°As one does over a heartache, Morgana got all sad and hid from the universe for a couple hundred years. Kyros became a total gossip about it, telling all the priests and the bards and the knights about how she abandoned her post, fleeing into the metaphorical closet. Guinevere despaired, so she went down to Alois ¨C to this very village, it is rumored ¨C and slept in an eternal snow.¡± This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. ¡°An¡­ eternal snow? Like a coma?¡± ¡°No, more like death. Gods, of course, cannot die, but Guinevere is a dramatic woman. So she pretended to be dead, and had the mortals throw her a very big party, err, funeral. It eventually created a new joke among the immortals, actually ¨C to pull a Guinevere. They would all gather in the Nether, mourn one of their compatriots, pretend to cry, lower the body into the abyss. It¡¯s all very amusing to them.¡± Momo got a flashback to one conversation she had with Morgana. The Goddess mentioned attending Salazar¡¯s funeral. Momo had been beyond confused at the time ¨C and only moderately less so now. Taking in what Grimli said, it seemed to essentially boil down to a bit of friendly immortal bullying. ¡°So is she still¡­ dead?¡± ¡°Oh no, she ended that charade years ago. It got too boring,¡± Grimli said, hopping off the bench. ¡°Plus, how are mortals going to pay tribute to a dead goddess? It wasn¡¯t a very profitable joke, especially for someone who trended towards narcissism.¡± He sidled up to the statue and placed a few coins in the water. They shimmered gold, then disappeared out of sight. A moment later, a courier appeared in his hand. ¡°Oh, I got lucky this time,¡± Grimli grinned. ¡°Here, try it out, your highness. A blessing from Guinevere is like divine gambling. It¡¯s quite fun.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­¡± ¡°Come on, live a little!¡± He handed Momo a coin. With a sigh, she reluctantly placed it in the fountain. A moment later, her fate was delivered to her in the form of parchment.
Congratulations! You have received [Guinevere¡¯s Blessing of Winter Chill]. For 24 hours, no matter the weather outside, you will feel as if you¡¯ve been placed in an arctic tundra.
Her teeth immediately chattered like she¡¯d just been dunked in a freezing lake. Momo glared at Grimli. ¡°Oops,¡± he said, laughing nervously. ¡°Let¡¯s get you one of those parkas.¡± ¡ª One shopping trip later, the two finally headed for the event tent. Momo looked like a plump marshmallow with her winter jacket and tightly-wound scarf, and she nearly fell over herself walking in her new oversized snow boots. Still, she made it up the modest hill eventually. ¡°Caught a bad case of the blessing?¡± Manning the Welcome Momo & Associates booth was a gloomy young woman. She was dressed like a gothic Instagram model: her hair tied up in a black scarf, her neckline piled high with cheap necklaces. Like the drunk men at the front of town, she had silver caplets over her teeth which shined when she spoke. ¡°Sure have,¡± Momo grumbled, wiping at her dripping nose. ¡°Do you have a tissue by any chance? Handkerchief maybe?¡± ¡°Nope,¡± the woman said, popping the p. ¡°Are you Momo?¡± ¡°She sure is,¡± Grimli butted in, presenting Momo like a show dog. ¡°Queen of the Queendom. Please bow.¡± ¡°She doesn¡¯t have to bow, Grimli ¨C¡± ¡°I¡¯m not bowing.¡± ¡°She¡¯s not bowing, Grimli.¡± Grimli scoffed. ¡°Disrespectful.¡± ¡°Here¡¯s your nametag,¡± the woman said, handing Momo a white sticker that had Momo scribbled on it in barely legible handwriting. ¡°Does your dwarf need one too?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not a pet ¨C¡± ¡°He¡¯ll take one,¡± Momo nodded. ¡°Grimli, tell her your name.¡± He harrumphed. ¡°It¡¯s Grimli.¡± The woman looked between them. ¡°Right. Here you go.¡± As she inscribed his name on another slip of paper, Momo noticed the name tag stuck to her own chest ¨C Nyk. It suited her, Momo thought. Even the letters looked like they might stab you in an alley. ¡°Come with me,¡± she said apathetically, beckoning them as she strolled away towards the surrounding forest. ¡°Where does she think she¡¯s going?¡± Grimli said. ¡°The event can¡¯t possibly be in the middle of the woods?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t judge, Grimli." ¡ª Even Momo, in her unlimited naivety, was beginning to grow suspicious as Nyk guided them into the dense, dark thickets of the forest. Disc-like foliage loomed overhead, blocking out even the thinnest ray of sunlight from touching them. ¡°Not to be rude, but¡­¡± Momo mumbled. ¡°Is there going to be an¡­ audience for this event?¡± Nyk scoffed. Momo could only make out the faint outline of her silhouette as the woman approached the foot of a small mountain, knocking several times on the stone face of it. A loud, grating motor sound reverberated from within, the stone walls parting to reveal a cavern. ¡°Come in,¡± Nyk said, in the most inviting voice she could muster, which still sounded vaguely like a threat. ¡°We¡¯ve almost finished setting up.¡± Grimli and Momo shared a look ¨C or, at least, they attempted to point their heads in the same general direction. Despite the overwhelming darkness, the thought was communicated loud and clear: there was obviously something amiss. Of course, in Momo¡¯s life, there was nearly always something amiss. So on the off chance that this wasn¡¯t another poorly disguised shakedown ¨C or even if it was ¨C she didn¡¯t want to risk insulting some sort of Snowdroppian cultural ritual. Maybe caves are considered venues here. After all, the worst possible outcome of this wasn¡¯t a brawl, but a social faux pas. She didn¡¯t want to seem insensitive. That¡¯d certainly tank her control score. And not only that ¨C but Sumire sent me here for a reason, Momo reminded herself for the hundredth time. She had promised Sumire over and over again that she wouldn¡¯t question her plans, even when those plans caused her mythical levels of anxiety and stomach upset. So she followed Nyk in, dragging a very reluctant Grimli behind her. When Momo entered the cave, the rock door behind her slammed shut, bathing the room in complete darkness. It didn¡¯t last long, however ¨C Nyk snapped her fingers, and a shallow flame lit out of her palm, as if her hand itself was a small torch. It looked seriously impressive. ¡°Wow,¡± Momo said, eyes wide. ¡°How¡¯d you learn to do that?¡± ¡°School,¡± she said, then paused. ¡°Obviously.¡± The cave was small, surely not big enough to hold more than ten people. If this was a venue, it was a venue for a very small brand of citizen indeed. Momo had heard whispers of such people, tiny people, no bigger than a flower bud. A cousin to the gnomes. But those people lived amongst grass and fields. No, the only inhabitants of this cave were ¨C oh ¨C skeletons. Lots of skeletons. Strewn about the place like festive decoration. It reminded Momo nostalgically of the abyss of Morgana¡¯s Dawn. All that was missing was the stink of rotting flesh. Then it¡¯d be home. ¡°Okay, what did that lunatic want me to say¡­¡± Nyk said dryly, pulling out a scroll from her bag. Despite the smallness of the pouch, the scroll was surprisingly lengthy. It dropped to the floor and rolled for a couple feet. ¡°Er, alright. Greetings traitor, you¡¯ll pay for your crimes against me¡­ blah blah. Fear my wrath, beware of my box¡­ God, beware of my box? I¡¯d rather choke than read the rest of this outloud.¡± Momo paled. None of this sounded good for her approval ratings. ¡°Traitor? Crimes? I didn¡¯t commit any crimes ¨C God, I decide what is a crime, don¡¯t I?¡± Grimli reached for the dagger on his waist, which was not really a dagger, but more of a fork that had lost two prongs. ¡°You dare take the Queen¡¯s name in vain, do ya? I¡¯ll have you know that you¡¯ll be one the payin¡¯, that¡¯s for sure. Momo, let me at her ¨C¡± ¡°Can you two be quiet?¡± Nyk groaned. ¡°It¡¯s hard enough to read this script without you blubbering like beached whales in the background.¡± Both Momo and Grimli turned very quiet, adequately chastised. With a final exhale, Nyk dropped the scroll on the ground. She dug her heel into it, and it evaporated in a cloud of green dust. That must have been a courier, Momo deduced. But if that was a courier, it had to have possessed some sort of message from the Nether¡­ Momo¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°There¡¯s not a campaign event happening in this hole in the mountain, is there?¡± Momo asked quietly. Grimli made a gurgling noise that sounded a lot like I told you so. ¡°Ah, what gave it away? Was it the lack of people? The general vibe of death?¡± Nyk said, voice monotone as ever. ¡°And here I thought my acting was enviable. But no, you¡¯re just too clever.¡± Gliding her black-painted fingernails through the air, Nyk reached up to the scarf binding her hair together and plucked out a pin. The fabric fell away, revealing a dark mop of obsidian hair, and two horns as red as blood roses jutting out of each side of her skull. Momo¡¯s heart stuttered. Holy shit. Those are Dokkaebi horns. ¡°Listen, as fun as this little charade has been, there are plenty of townspeople I¡¯d rather be robbing blind,¡± Nyk sighed, reaching out her palms towards Momo like one might point the open mouth of a revolver. ¡°Let¡¯s get this over with. [Maladaptive Daydreams].¡± 169 – Black Box Having seen the consequences of [Maladaptive Daydreams] on other people, Momo braced for impact, shutting her eyes tightly and pressing her hands to her ears. Yet, after a few agonizing seconds, nothing had happened ¨C not a single troublesome hallucination or disembodied voice. All she heard was the flutter of bat wings and the scattering of rats. Typical dark and spooky cave sounds. A courier materialized on top of her forehead. Huh? Momo opened her eyes one by one, confused and reluctant; seeing that no demons ¨C except the utterly bewildered Nyk ¨C were prancing around in front of her vision, she grabbed the paper.
Your [Nether Resistance IV] blocked [Maladaptive Daydreams].
¡°Why aren¡¯t you screaming?¡± Nyk said, staring blankly at her. Momo had never heard more emotion in her voice than then. She seemed properly pissed. ¡°Because,¡± Momo let down the hood of the parka, revealing her horns. ¡°Same team.¡± Nyk¡¯s eyebrows raised. ¡°Wait, you¡¯re a dokkaebi? Seriously?¡± she said with a groan. ¡°I ¨C ugh. Why didn¡¯t she tell me that? This job just officially became not worth the money.¡± ¡°Job?¡± Momo asked, alarmed. ¡°Someone put you up to this?¡± ¡°Duh. I wouldn¡¯t be wasting my time trying to execute some random mortal unless there was something in it for me,¡± she drawled. Momo pretended, for the sake of politeness, that she didn¡¯t just say execute. ¡°But taking out another dokkaebi is like, a whole other thing. Way too many internal politics involved. Morgana would have me by the horns.¡± She paused, considered something, then removed a small black box from her dress pocket. ¡°I was hired to place this on you,¡± she said, then took Momo¡¯s hand. Momo flinched away, and Nyk rolled her eyes. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t be a baby. It won¡¯t be able to kill a Nether Dokkaebi. I¡¯d keep it away from your dwarf, though.¡± Grimli turned pink at the suggestion. ¡°Miss Momo, I urge you not to accept any gifts from this devil woman ¨C¡± ¡°You¡¯re positive it won¡¯t kill me?¡± Momo interjected, eyeing the suspicious box. Well, it was more or less a box in the shape sense, but not in the material one; it was completely black, lacking concrete edges or any reflection. It seemed to absorb all the light that touched its surface. ¡°No offense meant, but I think I want to at least put on gloves first.¡± ¡°Oh, gods,¡± Nyk groaned. ¡°First of all, I¡¯m holding it, and it¡¯s not killing me. So there¡¯s that. And second of all, you¡¯re wasting my time. Just use your [Soul Sense] ability if you¡¯re so scared.¡± Momo blushed. ¡°My what?¡± Nyk narrowed her eyes. ¡°Are you sure you¡¯re even a dokkaebi, or are those horns detachable?¡± ¡°Not without a crowbar,¡± Momo squeaked. ¡°I just haven¡¯t gotten that skill yet. What does it do?¡± Nyk wrapped her hand around one of Momo¡¯s horns and gave it a weak tug. Satisfied that it didn¡¯t immediately rip off her head, she frowned. ¡°It allows you to see souls. The skill name wasn¡¯t exactly a creative writing exercise.¡± Momo¡¯s eyes widened. Luckily, she recently learned that [Nether Cultivator] could accomplish a very similar feat ¨C assuming she poured enough Mana into it. She didn¡¯t want a repeat of yesterday, though. It wouldn¡¯t be useful if she fainted in this cave right in front of her hired contract killer. ¡°Alright,¡± Momo said, exhaling. ¡°Let me try.¡± Casting [Focus], she concentrated on dripping just enough Mana into the spell that the blurry, amorphous Nether around the box solidified. Yet, oddly, even in the stellar sharpness that the spell afforded her, the box seemed to still pulse and swarm with unparseable energy. It was as if a nest of Nether hornets had encased the box in a cloak, shielding its true form. ¡°Oh come on. Don¡¯t hold back,¡± Nyk said with a yawn. ¡°You¡¯re not going to get anywhere with that amount of Mana. Put your goddamn horns into it.¡± ¡°But I don¡¯t want to faint ¨C¡± ¡°Excuses, excuses,¡± Nyk said. ¡°If it helps, I won¡¯t shiv you while you¡¯re down.¡± Reluctantly taking heed of her words, Momo lended the spell just a dollop more Mana. She felt the strain of it in her back, in her knees, in her shoulders ¨C the more she gave to the spell, the more the fog around the box dissipated, revealing the buzzing core beneath. Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. ¡°Oh ¨C oh gods.¡± Momo nearly threw up on the spot, a rush of nausea shooting up her throat. Unseeable by the naked eye was the true composition of the black box ¨C a giant mass of soul chains; hundreds of them, perhaps thousands, all packed into an infinitely tight square. An enormous chorus of souls were screaming in visceral agony, chomping at the air like tied-up dogs. And that¡¯s exactly what this was ¨C a leash, a choke collar. It was as if someone had corralled an entire village of souls around a central post and tied them there, leaving no food, no water, no sustenance; no room for escape. A hundred soul chains cut up and rearranged with a butcher¡¯s knife, knotted and compressed into a pressure chamber. Trapped. ¡°This is so cruel,¡± Momo said, tears immediately welling up in her eyes. ¡°Why would someone do this? We need to let them out.¡± Nyk hummed. ¡°I will admit, even for the Gods, it¡¯s pretty vicious.¡± ¡°A god made this?¡± Nyk went silent, narrowing her eyes. ¡°Client confidentiality,¡± she said. Momo glared at her, the raw emotion blowing past any polite feelings. ¡°I¡¯m going to need you to tell me who made this,¡± she said, adamant. ¡°No bullshit.¡± ¡°No can do, cousin,¡± Nyk said, whistling. As Nyk whistled the Spinesplitter Waltz, a violent shock of realization came over Momo. "There was no campaign event in this town to begin with, was there?" Momo said. "You didn''t interrupt anything. This was just a setup. An ambush. Someone sent me here for the explicit purpose of you finding me." Nyk shrugged, but the glint in her eye told Momo she was right. Snowdrop Village had been a distraction from the beginning. Nobody else but Nyk and the drunkards she employed to greet her had paid Momo any mind at all; not a single head had turned her way, no pitchforks or cries or cheers. There was no evidence of a single person knowing she was coming. Momo¡¯s face went hot in embarrassment. She had been too love-drunk to consider the possibility before, but Grimli had been right ¨C the letter ¡®Sumire¡¯ had sent had been... off. Unusual. The only thing that had granted it any legitimacy was the stamp of the King¡¯s office on the front. No one else in Aloysius had access to that stamp but Momo''s chief military advisor. Except¡­ The pieces began to fall together in Momo¡¯s mind. Yawnica¡¯s blessing did the rest. ¡°Sumire didn¡¯t write that letter,¡± she said. ¡°It¡¯s that woman ¨C Ms. Celestina.¡± She turned to Grimli. ¡°The one that only communicates by bird, right?¡± ¡°Exactly, your highness.¡± ¡°It¡¯s Komodo,¡± Momo said, dragging her fingers miserably across her face. ¡°She has a whole plethora of forged stamps. Delivery pigeons. Nia and Vivienne must have tracked her down and recruited her to their side. They knew she could guide me off-course so they could beat me to the next location.¡± ¡°Most astute, your highness,¡± Grimli said, not having a single clue about whatever a Komodo might be. ¡°That is very troublesome indeed.¡± ¡°That means you¡¯re working for the Holy Resistance,¡± Momo said slowly, stepping towards Nyk. ¡°Or they¡¯re at least the ones paying you off. Except¡­ someone like Nia wouldn¡¯t just be able to hire a dokkaebi. No. Obviously, some kind of god is crafting this entire operation. Moving the ventriloquist strings. The same one that made that devil-box¡­¡± As Momo drew closer, Nyk laughed. Her breath felt like fire. ¡°Alright, detective, you¡¯ve got me red-handed,¡± she drawled. ¡°Finish the case, then, queenling.¡± ¡°It¡¯s Sera,¡± Momo said breathlessly. ¡°Sera¡¯s trying to kill me.¡± ¡°Ding, ding, ding,¡± Nyk said. It was the first time Momo saw her grin. At the confirmation, Momo¡¯s nausea came back two-fold. It¡¯s true, then. The Holy Resistance was a complete fa?ade. A revolution coming from within the house of the dead. Momo knew Sera resented her and Valerica, but she naively thought that her wrath would be neutralized by a promotion; that she wouldn¡¯t do anything to jeopardize her new position under Morgana. But of course not. Because Sera was, ultimately, mortal. And mortals were fallible. Obsessive. Sera wanted to be Morgana¡¯s golden child ¨C her only child ¨C and even as irrational and impossible as it was, she¡¯d do anything to make it happen. To make Valerica a disappointment in the eyes of her goddess. And the best way to do that? Killing her prized subject. The limping underdog of a racehorse Valerica bet all her money on. Momo felt so stupid. ¡°I ¨C I can¡¯t believe I didn¡¯t see it earlier,¡± she said meekly, staring at the floor. ¡°Don¡¯t be so down on yourself, your highness,¡± Grimli comforted, giving her a pitying look. ¡°If it helps, I have no clue what you¡¯re talking about.¡± ¡°Neither do I,¡± Nyk said, idly checking her nails. ¡°I don¡¯t care about mortal politics. Wars on this plane come and go like the weather. But this is a little more¡­ worrisome. Sera¡¯s gone mad, and not in the typical immortal fashion. At first she was trying to be discreet, but it seems her mortal minions haven¡¯t been very successful in killing you, so she¡¯s resorting to us, now. Dokkaebis. Which would be all fine and dandy if you weren¡¯t one. But I¡¯m not going to be slaughtering any of my cousins without Mama Bear¡¯s permission.¡± ¡°Morgana¡¯s, you mean?¡± ¡°Exactly, cuz. You¡¯re getting quicker,¡± Nyk commented, sardonic as ever. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t usually be so forthcoming, but this stupid death box has me concerned. You should understand that I don¡¯t get concerned. But Sera is misusing her new status to¡­ build something. Something that threatens the very nature of Morgana¡¯s domain.¡± Momo¡¯s skin grew cold. She felt a sting of nostalgia, and not the good kind. ¡°Like another universe implosion situation?¡± ¡°No,¡± Nyk said, her eyes drifting from her nails to meet Momo¡¯s gaze. The intensity of her stare nearly took Momo¡¯s breath away ¨C it was like knives cutting into her very corneas. ¡°Worse. The implosion situation was inconvenient, but not terminal. Even if the universe was to be ripped to shreds, Morgana would be able to fix it, in time.¡± Nyk strolled past Momo, then took a pause at the opening of the cave. ¡°How do I put this,¡± she said, clicking her tongue. ¡°Sera is doing something that one should never do in their job - overachieve.¡± Nyk snapped her fingers, and the stone wall of the mountain hissed open. ¡°If anyone asks, you¡¯re dead, alright?¡± Nyk said, turning her head one last time. The silver caps of her teeth shone in the moonlight. ¡°See you around, cousin.¡± 170 – The Wraith Box For three hours, Momo was silent. Speechless was the better word. Grimli doted after her like a worried mother, constantly asking her if she needed anything ¨C tea, coffee, an inspirational theme song ¨C but she just nodded mutely. In truth, she was paralyzed. Fighting off upstart mortal idiots like Nia was one thing, but she¡¯d done this to herself. She was the one who promoted Sera, indirectly, to godhood. And now she was paying the consequences. She sighed deeply, turning the black cube around in her hand. Despite the inner inferno raging within, it was as cold as death. It made the skin on her hand tingle and hiss, as if the device was trying and failing to suck the very organ off of her bones. Charming. If only I could have asked Nyk more questions, Momo thought, growing mad at herself once more. Momo had done nothing but stare dumbly as the dokkaebi disappeared back to the Nether. It seemed that no matter how many points in Charisma or Intelligence she accrued, her strategy for women seemed to stay the same ¨C complete immobilization. It¡¯s not like she would have answered my questions anyway, she thought, comforting herself. Or would have even known the answers. The only person who truly knew what the devilish device in her hand was capable of was Sera herself. Nia, maybe, but Momo would sooner get a hungry rat to share its secret storage of cheese than get that woman to open up to her. Momo¡¯s eyes trailed to the edge of the wooden desk she was sitting by. After realizing that there was no campaign event, Momo had paid for a night at the town inn and retreated to a room to mope. The small cabin came equipped with a bed, a desk, and a heaping serving of cold-weather blankets ¨C thankfully, since Guinevere¡¯s alleged blessing was still chilling her to the bone. Momo had set her belongings on the side of the desk in an unorganized pile ¨C her bloody backpack, her new assortment of scarves, and finally, Dusk, who was chewing at the edge of Lione Baumfreund¡¯s unopened letter like it was a cat toy. Wait. Lione. ¡°Hey, stop that,¡± Momo chided, swatting Dusk lovingly. The cat meowed in annoyance. ¡°I bought three entire mackerels for you that you¡¯re actively ignoring, go eat those instead.¡± Momo gestured towards the pile of semi-rotting fish in the corner of the room. Dusk did the feline equivalent of a shrug, and jumped from the table. Momo reached urgently for the letter. If there was anyone else on Alois who might have a clue about Sera¡¯s plans, it was Lione. After all, she used to be Sera¡¯s devout student. Back when Sera was just a professor at Kalendale¡¯s Mage College. A colleague to someone like Viktor Mole, not a demigod who was dead-set on seeing her dead. Wasting no time, Momo took a knife and sliced open the top of the envelope, unfurling the neatly stored piece of correspondence. Leaning back in her chair, she began to read. Dearest Momo, First of all, I¡¯d like to start off by thanking you. Without you and my annoying brother, I¡¯d have been killed immediately by the Earl¡¯s men. Your appeal for my rehabilitation saved me. Of course, I despised you at first. After you destroyed my glob, I was sent to rot away in the Earl¡¯s cellars, forced to talk to something called a sigh-cy-a-trist. Urgh. I shall tell you about him. This sigh-cy-a-trist came to me as a troublesome man named Devon, who wore a monocle and spoke with a very unpleasant and unusual vocabulary. Trauma, he¡¯d say. Baggage. Motherly issues, Fatherly issues. Listening to him drone on and on, I would pray everyday for the return of my Glob, so that it could devour this man and his words whole, swallow him up to the Nether. But eventually, either by a blessing or by delirium, his lectures began to get to me. They started to make sense. I realized, then, that what I thought was my calling ¨C my purpose ¨C was instead a coverup for the pain that I had faced as a child. I know, it sounds ridiculous. But this is the result of sigh-cy-a-tree. My mind has become open like a dissected animal. To cover up this child-like pain, I sought the guidance of my mentor, Sera, a brilliant woman. We worked together on a project like none other. Completely unprecedented in the study of the undead: the practice of soul-fissuring. It¡¯s a practice invented by the wraiths of The Mists, and why their territory is so feared. It involves cutting up and re-attaching the soul chains of small, inconsequential things, so one can create unimaginable horrors, like my dear Glob. Of course, my Glob was merely a glimpse. An amateur experiment. Sera dreamt of much grander things. She wanted to create something self-sufficient, you see, something that would replenish itself. A monster that would soul-fissure the chains from hundreds of human bodies at a time. Eliminate entire cities with a mere touch. The Wraith Box ¨C she affectionately called it. A quaint name for such a beast. It would not kill people, you see. It would consume them. There would be no Nether afterlife for its victims. Fissured to such a creature, all a soul would be capable of is eternal screaming. This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. Such a tantalizing thought, isn¡¯t it? Ah, silly me, I don¡¯t mean to go on such tangents. My sigh-cy-a-trist tells me it¡¯s good to write things down, but I shamefully must admit it still thrills and delights me to think about such a creature. Not that I¡¯d like to build one anymore, no. That¡¯d be most inhumane. But it harms no one to simply contemplate it¡­ And if you were wondering, such a thing was never feasible within the confines of our reality. I dedicated myself to this research for years, and I was never able to come even close to replicating it. Even my Glob was a simplistic thing. It couldn¡¯t even properly kill people. It just stuffed them inside its amorphous body like one might submerge themselves in a pool. Ah ¨C how I miss my research. Anyway, if you¡¯d ever like to chat again, I¡¯ll be taking a new residence in the city of Karahtan, the capital of the Vagrant Dunes. I fear that if I stay in Bruda any longer, I might revert to old urges. Blessed tidings, Lione Baumfreund ¡ª ¡°Who would store a wraith in a box?¡± Grimli asked, positively aghast. ¡°That¡¯s like putting a Demonic Boar in a petting zoo. Or storing a ticking time bomb in the pocket of one¡¯s trousers.¡± He eyed Momo¡¯s lower half, and his face went even pinker. ¡°Speaking of the subject, it comes to mind that you should absolutely take that hideous contraption out of your trousers, your highness.¡± Grimli pointed his shivering finger towards Momo¡¯s pant pocket, where the Wraith Box was sitting, unmoving and undisturbed. Momo ignored him. As far as she knew ¨C it couldn¡¯t do anything to her. But Grimli was right, they would need a better place to store it. If only Alois had tupperware. ¡°I don¡¯t think it¡¯s exactly like she shoved a wraith in a box, Grimli. It¡¯s more so like¡­ er¡­ do you know what happens when someone comes into contact with a wraith in the wild?¡± ¡°Hm, well, much can occur,¡± Grimli said, tapping his chin thoughtfully. ¡°Firstly, one¡¯s soul is typically torn from their body, then there¡¯s the whole thing about the eternal screaming.¡± ¡°Great to know that Lione wasn¡¯t exaggerating,¡± Momo muttered. ¡°Yeah, so, that. Sera created a device that does that, but on a much larger scale. At least that¡¯s what I think it does. It interrupts the natural death process, so that souls don¡¯t get sent to the Nether, they just¡­ scream. Forever.¡± ¡°No souls in the Nether?¡± Grimli gasped. ¡°That seems highly destabilizing. Morgana¡¯s realm would be nothing without her shades.¡± ¡°I think she¡¯d survive without her Subway sandwich employees,¡± Momo drawled. ¡°The part that scares me is the¡­ self-sustaining bit. Lione suggested that a device like this would never just stop consuming. Unlike wraiths, who act defensively, this thing would act offensively. Once it goes off, it might just devour every soul it can get its grubby little box hands on.¡± ¡°Positively terrifying, your highness. Such a thing would make a wonderful ballad,¡± Grimli said in a too-cheery tone. ¡°I trust we will need to intervene with these dreadful shenanigans?¡¯ ¡°It seems that preventing world-ending catastrophes is now part of my day job, so yes,¡± Momo frowned miserably. I miss when my most adventurous job task was cleaning the men¡¯s bathroom at Mallmart. ¡°By the way, you know you can just call me Momo, right? Your highness is just¡­ a lot. It feels weird to have you treat me like royalty.¡± ¡°But you are royalty, your highness,¡± he corrected her. ¡°And if I were to refer to you as anything but, I¡¯d have to off myself,¡± he said with the utmost casualness, ¡°for I would have disrespected you. And I will not let anyone disrespect you, least of all myself.¡± Momo stared at him. I think that Demagogue perk is less of a perk and more of a curse. ¡°Ugh ¨C nevermind.¡± ¡ª Momo decided the only sensible thing to do was to keep moving. From her [Focused] inspection, there was no way to just disable the box. If she tried to manipulate the soul chains directly while [Nether Cultivator] was activated, there was a high probability that she¡¯d be electrocuted to death ¨C or whatever you might call the Mana-depleting equivalent. It would be like shoving your fingers in an open outlet, or dancing on a live wire. Neither of which Momo intended to do. At least on purpose. So there existed only two real options in Momo¡¯s mind ¨C one, she could give up, which she considered briefly ¨C or two, she could take some scissors to the campaign trail plan, cut it into a pretty little one-way path, and chariot her and Grimli straight to the Mekna, skipping over all the stops in between. Although she¡¯d lose out on some approval points, she had gathered quite a boost in Bruda. The towns between Snowdrop and Mekna were quite small and insignificant (not that she¡¯d ever say that publicly.) But in Mekna, she¡¯d have the opportunity to talk to Miss Kelly Kraken of the Mekna Gazette personally, which, if it went well, would be another huge boost in approval score. And then ¨C urgh ¨C she¡¯d have another important choice to make. Mekna was, of course, the port of sail to all other continents. The biggest dock in Aloysius. She could buy a ticket there to go directly to the Vagrant Dunes, and have Lione look at the box in-person. She¡¯s probably the only necromancer on this planet who would know what to do with it. But taking that route would mean abandoning her post entirely. Leaving the country unattended, save for Sumire. It¡¯d go against the entire plan she so carefully set out of her. A total repeat of her days ruling Nam¡¯Dal, when she stupidly and naively gave the reins over to Viktor. And look how that turned out. Momo frowned. You see, the worst thing that could ever happen to Momo was to disappoint someone she cared about. But she had made the fatal mistake of caring about multiple people, all with different and varying interests ¨C Morgana, who would be very unhappy if souls stopped showing up to the Nether; Valerica, who would be very unhappy if Morgana was very unhappy; and finally Sumire, who¡­ just wanted the best for her. Momo sighed, missing her viscerally. Thinking back to the pirate-knight, a flash of memory crossed Momo¡¯s mind. ¡°A queen doesn¡¯t have to look like one thing, Momo,¡± Sumire said slowly. ¡°I think I¡¯d like to see the queen you¡¯d become if you tried doing it your way. Not Valerica¡¯s way. Or Morgana¡¯s way. Your way. In clogs. With more jail cells full of expiring tuna fish than prisoners.¡± Momo looked down at her feet, at her worn and muddied clogs. My way, she repeated in her mind. Okay. 171 – The Mekna Gazette As it turned out, Momo¡¯s Way did not sit well with Grimli. ¡°We¡¯re canceling the campaign trail,¡± Momo repeated, watching as the bard¡¯s face drained of life once more. It was paler than pale ¨C like a ghost with a face mask on. ¡°The last stop is going to be Mekna. Queen¡¯s orders.¡± ¡°But, but ¨C my shirt!¡± he said, pointing two thumbs towards his torso. ¡°It¡¯ll all be a sham! I was disappointed already that it didn¡¯t include Snowdrop Village, a minor error as that was, but to think that I¡¯ll have to cross out half of the remaining tour dates. And oh, the songs I was planning on singing. I had a notebook full of melodies ¨C¡± ¡°Grimli. Do you want your soul to be consumed by a wraith in a box?¡± Grimli¡¯s mouth shut like a zipper. ¡°No.¡± Momo sighed, hauling the rest of their things into the back of the carriage. ¡°That¡¯s what I thought.¡± ¨C The journey to Mekna was long and doused in rain; and seeing as Grimli would soon have no public outlets to share his songs, he seized the one opportunity in front of him: accosting Momo¡¯s ears with every combination of rancid tune and mismatched lyric imaginable. ¡°O¡¯Momo, O¡¯Momo, Great Ruiner of Plans, Famed Queeness Who Trampled On my Dreams In Advance¡­¡± ¡°Can you please stop, Grimli?¡± ¡°Of course, your highness.¡± ¡ª Three minutes later. ¡°May I resume my strumming, your highness?¡± ¡°Do you have a pair of earplugs I can borrow?¡± ¡°I carry no such thing, your highness.¡± ¡°Then no, Grimli.¡± ¡ª Fifteen minutes later. ¡°Your highness, this awkward silence is deafening. Why don¡¯t I relieve it with a song?¡± ¡°Will the song have lyrics?¡± ¡°Of course, your highness.¡± ¡°Can the lyrics be in a language I don¡¯t understand?¡± ¡°Oh, like dwarvish?¡± Grimli brightened. ¡°Glad-vad-ra¡¯h-tahv, ro-da-da-tadvh?¡± ¡°Yes ¨C perfect.¡± ¡ª It occurred to Momo, as thoughts do when you stare out the window of a vehicle, that leading a country was a whole lot easier than leading one singular bard around a country. ¡ª During the last leg of the carriage ride, Momo drew up a letter explaining her plans to Sumire. In plain, Momo would be leaving the continent. But unlike when she left Nam¡¯Dal, she wouldn¡¯t let the nation waste away unsupervised. She was going to have Sumire pretend that Momo was still around ¡ª they¡¯d find a fitting shapeshifter, someone trustworthy and capable to do her public appearances. Read out new laws and doctrines and fend off the lobbyists. Of course, Momo and Sumire would write the impersonator¡¯s scripts, sign off on every word they¡¯d say. They¡¯d be a walking political puppet. All the while, Momo would be sailing towards the Vagrant Dunes. She¡¯d be able to track down Lione, figure out how to disable the Wraith Box, and possibly snuff out the location of Jarva¡¯s new upstart kingdom. She¡¯d be a royal spy in enemy territory. The plan would work twofold ¡ª foremost, it would prevent Jarva from seeing the Queendom as compromised. If that were to happen, it¡¯d be increasingly likely that he¡¯d prepare an attack to reclaim the capital. And secondly, the imitation plan would allow Momo to throw the Holy Resistance off her trail. If they thought she was sitting pretty in Jarvirium, any assassination attempts would be targeted at the highly-guarded capital, not Momo¡¯s boat overseas. It¡¯ll work, she assured herself, goosebumps running up her forearm as she finished the final stroke with her quill. I can do it all at once. This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. ¡ª They arrived in Mekna just as the rain let up. Gleaming under the cloud-parted sun, the port city was as vivacious as Momo remembered it, brimming with hawkers selling all sorts of miscellany. Only now, the docks were in full swing again. Hundreds of boats dotted the coastline, bobbing like soap bubbles across the wide open blue expanse. Good, Momo thought. Now we just have to find the right one. ¡°Remember, Grimli, no announcing our presence. We have to do this quietly and intelligently, so that the Holy Resistance doesn¡¯t catch wind,¡± Momo instructed the dwarf as they approached the front gates. ¡°So let¡¯s use some finesse, alright?¡± ¡°Finesse, yes,¡± he said, replying in a low whisper. ¡°I will be very finnessive.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t know what that word means, do you?¡± ¡°Not a clue, your highness,¡± he said, digging out his notebook with a swiftness. They had three parallel missions while in Mekna ¨C one, to find a mechanic who could fix up Grimli¡¯s dwarven vehicle contraption, which they could then use as transportation when they arrived in the Dunes. Two, to give a persuasive interview to Kelly Kraken in order to offset the efforts of the Holy Resistance and Kyros¡¯s [Brainwash]. And three, commandeer a whole ass ship. It¡¯s just like a car that goes on water. Can¡¯t be that hard. Momo laughed nervously. ¡ª They were able to get through the gates without a problem. Momo flashed the captain¡¯s badge she borrowed from Akram, and she was welcomed in with the rest of the registered traders. She didn¡¯t want to float around her Queen clout here, so it was better to use other means of entrance. The guards did give a sidelong glance at the giant forklift of a machine they were hauling in ¡ª but Momo tried to distance herself as far from it as possible. That¡¯s Grimli¡¯s mess. ¡°Okay,¡± Momo said, folding her arms and pulling her cowl over her eyes. She wanted to stay as camouflaged as possible. ¡°You deal with the big mechanical boy, and I¡¯ll find the Mekna Gazette. We meet by the docks tonight when all is settled. Sound good?¡± ¡°Roger that, your highn¨C¡± ¡°Shh.¡± ¡°Right!¡± Grimli gave her a salute instead. ¡°Roger that, Captain Coco.¡± Momo grimaced. If they got onto a ship without all of Aloysius knowing, it¡¯d be a miracle. ¡ª The Mekna Gazette was taller than last time. It had gained six stories of wide window panes, like a proper New York office building. It was surrounded by reinforced wooden gates and tuxedoed bodyguards, and topped with a giant billboard, showcasing the one and only face of the paper¡ªKelly Kraken. ¡°Never meet your heroes,¡± Momo mumbled, staring up at her ridiculous mug. Kelly was like a tan Medusa. Sunglasses pushed up her hair, which was not quite hair, and more so a cluttered arrangement of black-scaled snakes. The snakes slithered around her olive skin and freckled cheeks, framing her face into the perfect proportions. No photoshop required. ¡°Sorry, no peasants allowed in the offices,¡± the guard at the entrance said gruffly, extending his trident over the entrance for extra oomph. ¡°If you¡¯d like to buy a copy of the gazette, you can do so at any licensed dealer.¡± Momo had expected this. With the gazette, and specifically Kelly, being so high profile nowadays, it made sense that they wouldn¡¯t let just any street ruffian in to talk to the premier reporter herself. ¡°Look,¡± Momo whispered. ¡°I know you¡¯re just doing your job. That¡¯s totally cool. Keep at it. But I¡¯m actually the Queen.¡± He creased his eyebrows, unamused. ¡°Queen?¡± Momo bit down on her lip. ¡°Chief Necromancer-in-charge? Momo the Ripper? I¡¯m here to give an interview to Kelly myself. In-person.¡± His eyes lit up with recognition, but quickly dimmed as he reviewed her choice of clothing. ¡°You expect me to believe a queen is dressed like a common street urchin? The cowl, the clogs, the, the¨C¡± he scoffed, gesturing towards her general presence. ¡°I¡¯m no idiot. Move along before I report you to the actual authorities for royal impersonation.¡± One great thing about the advent of photography ¨C it ensured that people knew what other people looked like. Especially prominent people. Aloysius lacked such a mechanism. And since she wasn¡¯t an egomaniac, Momo hadn¡¯t bothered to have a portrait artist distribute her horned mug to all of the populace. ¡°Err ¨C what do you think the queen looks like?¡± Momo tried. ¡°Because I assure you it¡¯s me.¡± He frowned, taking a moment to consider it. ¡°Well, she¡¯d be taller than you, of course,¡± he said. ¡°And regal, as queens are. Very regal.¡± Momo straightened her back, fixing her posture. ¡°How¡¯s this?¡± she murmured. He hummed, gesturing with his hands for her to do a spin around. Seeing no other option, she obeyed ¨C twirling slowly like a model being appraised for a fashion magazine. After a moment, he shook his head. ¡°Still pretty bad.¡± Momo sighed. She was really counting on her Charisma or myriad persuasion skills to give her some extra points here, but the unfortunate reality was that most of her persuasion skills only helped her when she was trying to deceive someone, not tell them the truth. She¡¯d normally blast him with a case of [Maladaptive Daydreams], but that wouldn¡¯t be very low profile of her. She¡¯d have to find a way inside the building that didn¡¯t require ringing any alarm bells. Momo looked past him and through the gates. Inside the Gazette¡¯s courtyard, there was a guard that rotated position every five minutes. He¡¯d walk to his post outside, survey the area, then return inside the building. That gave her an idea. ¡°Nevermind,¡± she said to him. She gave a quick, awkward bow. ¡°Have a good day.¡± Before he could respond, Momo trailed away from him, walking until she was out of view. She hid behind a bush, eyeing the guardsman who was about to return to his shift inside. She had her gaze pinned to the handkerchief hanging lazily out of his pocket. ¡°[Possess],¡± she whispered. In all honesty, it was one of her more genius plans¡ªwithin the blink of an eye, her consciousness had teleported into the piece of cloth, and soon enough she was being carried into the office. Once inside, a hundred voices assaulted Momo. The place was a mess of journalists and editors, white-collared lizards and ravens with their ties knit neatly to their chest. Papers fluttered in every which direction, coating the floors and the ceilings. It was equal parts disaster and highly organized chaos. The guard Momo was attached to took a moment to survey the first floor, then went up to the second. He swiped a badge at a door, and was then let up to the subsequent third, fourth, and fifth. It was only on the sixth floor that Momo heard a promising voice, high-pitched and overly cheery, a certified radio host. ¡°It was a pleasure to meet with you, Ms. Bellafor. I won¡¯t lie, your angle on this whole story really surprised me.¡± Momo was jolted by the name. She looked up. Standing like mammoths before her were two women ¨C one with wild, snake-infested hair ¨C and another as blonde as the morning sun. And unmistakably familiar. ¡°The pleasure¡¯s all mine, Kelly,¡± said the other woman. ¡°Now, do the story justice, won¡¯t you?¡± She turned to leave, exposing the pale, taut skin of her face towards Momo. Vivienne. 172 – A Traitor in the Midst All at once, several highly diverging paths opened up to Momo the Handkerchief. If Vivienne was here giving an interview, that meant that she could be spinning the outcome of the Deadly Dance Recital in any which way, potentially accusing Momo of cheating or any manner of uncouth behavior, ransacking the Approval winnings she was due from that event. On top of that, if Kelly was easily manipulated, Vivienne could have convinced her to write a puff piece about the Holy Resistance, further eating away at Momo¡¯s Approval and Control. On the other hand ¨C Momo had zero idea what they had been talking about. All that Momo heard Kelly say was that Vivienne gave her a really interesting angle. Until now, Kelly had been strongly affiliated with the Queendom, and a close friend of Devola Wraith¡¯s to boot. Either this angle had swayed her away from that loyalty, or Vivienne had somehow said something to bolster Momo¡¯s side. Unlikely, but possible. Either way, it was best to play it safe. So, while she could relinquish all semblance of discreteness and chase Vivienne out, somehow take her hostage, and interrogate her until she gives up the secrets of the Wraith Box, Momo was keen on a very different strategic play, one that achieved success on both ends. Momo gave the strategy a very tactical name¡ªthe yell at her and see what happens. As Vivienne turned on her heel to leave, Momo called out to her. ¡°Ms. Bellafor!¡± she squealed, her voice coming out higher than anticipated. Vivienne stopped in her tracks, freezing at the top of the stairwell. Kelly Kraken¡¯s mouth fell agape. ¡°Did your handkerchief just speak, guardsman?¡± Kelly said, her snakes hissing wildly. ¡°My ¨C huh?¡± the guard said, face painted pink. He pulled at Momo, waving her around and giving her motion sickness. ¡°This is just a piece of cloth, madam.¡± ¡°No I¡¯m not ¨C urgh ¨C [Demorph],¡± Momo mumbled, slurring her words nauseously. With a dramatic woosh of Nether, Momo regained her physical form, emerging from the handkerchief and stumbling onto the wood floor. The overwhelming spinning feeling continued to plague her as she got to feet. ¡°Hello,¡± she mumbled, wobbling upwards and regaining her balance. ¡°I¡¯mMomo. Nicemeetya.¡± Kelly screamed, stepping back and nearly tripping over her six-inch heel. Vivienne finally turned her head, her entire face turning the color of a ripe tomato when she laid her eyes on just what had emerged from that chattering piece of cloth. ¡°Momo ¨C¡± Vivienne said, then stopped herself, freezing in place. ¡°I mean, who are you?¡± ¡°Wait,¡± Kelly said, her eyes enlarging comically. ¡°Queen Momo? As in, the new necromantic tyrant of Aloysius? Emerging from a napkin?¡± ¡°I realize the circumstances of my entrance aren¡¯t ideal,¡± Momo said politically, finally able to form words again. ¡°But the guards at the gate wouldn¡¯t let me in, so I had to make do. They didn¡¯t believe I was the queen ¡ª something about my footwear and general appearance.¡± Kelly gave her a onceover. While she didn¡¯t say anything, it was clear she agreed. ¡°I¡¯ll have them fired this afternoon, your highness,¡± she said, instantly turning on her journalistic courtesy. She even went as far as taking a small bow, the hissing snakes on her head darting their tongues out towards Momo. ¡°What timing you have ¨C I was just chatting to Ms. Bellafor here about you.¡± ¡°Oh really?¡± Momo said, lifting her eyebrows as she turned to Vivienne. The Holy Knight looked intensely stressed, an actress caught between two conflicting roles. ¡°All good things, I hope?¡± The logic of plan three went something like this ¨C Momo knew that if Vivienne and Nia were after the same thing Momo was, (aka: nationwide approval for their cause) then Vivienne had the same incentive to remain cool and collected in front of Kelly. With all the acclaim the journalist had been gaining in the months since Momo¡¯s rise, the snake-haired woman could crush a political campaign in a single headline. And telling from the aggravated look on Vivienne¡¯s face, she knew that very well. ¡°Yes, actually,¡± Kelly said with a note of surprise. ¡°She was just regaling me with the most fascinating tale. You don¡¯t mind if I enlighten the queen with it, do you? A little snippet of the story before it hits the presses.¡± ¡°Actually¡­¡± Vivienne began, then trailed off. ¡°Not at all, Kelly. But I really should be leaving. I have some important affairs to conduct out of town, you know how it goes¡­¡± ¡°Oh, of course,¡± Kelly said. ¡°No,¡± Momo squeaked, getting ahead of herself. The two women eyed her, one looking considerably more alarmed than the other. ¡°No, I¡­ if you wouldn¡¯t mind, Ms. Bellafor, I¡¯d really love a chance to talk to you before you go. I just bumped into your sister Nia at my last stop on the campaign trail. She¡¯s really trying on a new style these days, isn¡¯t she? The hat, the masks¡­¡± Vivienne¡¯s lip twitched. There goes my trump card, Momo thought. This better work. ¡°Oh, Ms. Bellafor, I had no clue you had a sister. Nia ¨C was it?¡± Kelly said, clapping her hands together excitedly. ¡°Is she also part of the Holy Resistance? Err ¨C sorry. Freudian slip. Got ahead of myself there.¡± Vivienne looked like a pot that might boil over. She let out a slow, balancing breath. ¡°Momo must be confused,¡± Vivienne said. ¡°Let me have a word with her before you two begin?¡± ¡°Oh, what a shame to have it off the record,¡± Kelly said, frowning politely. ¡°Why don¡¯t you have it on air?¡± ¡°I¡¯d rather not,¡± both Vivienne and Momo said in unison, then looked at eachother and frowned. Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. Kelly¡¯s eyebrows raised, her eyes lighting up. ¡°Well aren¡¯t you two cozy? Finishing each other¡¯s sentences, not to mention that thick tension in there, ooh la la¡­¡± ¡°Oh it¡¯s not like that ¨C¡± Momo stuttered. ¡°You¡¯re completely wrong ¨C¡± Vivienne insisted. ¡°No worries, ladies. You¡¯re welcome to use my breakroom to sort out your issues,¡± Kelly said, the heads of one of her snakes gesturing towards a small room at the end of the hallway. ¡°But Momo, dear, I really am looking forward to our interview. So don¡¯t take too long, hm?¡± Before Momo could respond, Kelly harrumphed, pivoted on her stiletto, and slammed the door to her office, leaving Momo and Vivienne in a sea of unsaid words. Momo expected Vivienne to run ¨C but she didn¡¯t. With an exasperated sigh, she stalked in front of Momo and walked herself like a prisoner to the breakroom. With a squeaky apology to the guardsman for inhabiting his handkerchief without permission, Momo rushed after her. ¡ª ¡°What¡¯s with the horns?¡± Momo flushed. ¡°That¡¯s the first thing you¡¯re going to say to me?¡± she stuttered. Vivienne shrugged, leaning back in her uncomfortable, coffee-break chair. She winced. ¡°God, for all the money this woman has, you¡¯d think she¡¯d have better office furniture,¡± she said, massaging her hip. ¡°There¡¯s no way she uses this breakroom. It¡¯s definitely where she sends subjects she¡¯s annoyed with. Like a journalist¡¯s penitentiary.¡± ¡°I could believe that,¡± Momo mumbled. It was a dingy, prison cell of a break room. All the furniture had sharp edges and exposed nails; the two vending machines were just slabs of brick with soda cans painted onto them, as if they were prehistoric concept art of the real thing. There were two chairs which sat around a small coffee table, where a musty mug of cappuccino had been standing for weeks. ¡°Yuck.¡± Momo took the mug and tried to put it in the rubbish can, but the bin was already pouring over with identically old cappuccinos. She sighed, and placed it on the floor. ¡°Alright. Let¡¯s get to the point,¡± Vivienne said, taking off her hood and placing it aside. ¡°Clearly you know the truth about the Holy Resistance.¡± ¡°It wasn¡¯t hard to figure out,¡± Momo grumbled. ¡°Your sister made it abundantly clear while trying to kill me. Are you working with her? What did you tell Kelly?¡± Vivienne sighed. ¡°It¡¯s complicated.¡± She looked down at the hood, which was nearly identical to Nia¡¯s, with several fabric tentacles shooting out of it. She ran her fingers over the material contemplatively, her lips stuck in a permanent frown. It wasn¡¯t how Momo remembered Vivienne. The woman was a force to be reckoned with, just like her sister; proud, strong, collected. Collected¡ªthat was the best word for it. Put together. Sure of herself. And how could she not be? She had spent years pretending to be someone else. Worked with people who completely went against her ideals. Kept her head down. Remained loyal to only her sister and her goddess, day in and day out. Momo couldn¡¯t even imagine the internal turmoil that would have caused someone more weak willed than Vivienne. Momo would have given up on Day 2. But the Holy Knight didn¡¯t look collected now. She just looked¡­ sad. Distraught. Conflicted. After a moment, her hand stilled on the fabric. She took it back, holding it tightly in her lap. ¡°I was working with Nia. But I¡­¡± she said, her voice strained. ¡°I quit. I just quit.¡± ¡°You quit? As in, you quit the Holy Resistance?¡± It was like an anvil of thick, silent tension fell on the room. After several seconds, Vivienne swallowed hard, then nodded. ¡°Originally, I wanted to do it for Nia¡¯s sake. I thought, what¡¯s the harm ¨C it¡¯s the same mission we started out with. Be Sera¡¯s puppets. Take over the country. Bring pride to Morgana¡¯s name. You know the drill,¡± Vivienne said, refusing to look Momo in the eye as she spoke. She kept her gaze pinned on the overflowing garbage bin. ¡°But after a while, I don¡¯t know¡­ my heart wasn¡¯t in it anymore. It was just ¨C I couldn¡¯t stomach the way Sera treated Nia. The way she plays with her emotions, promising her things but never delivering them. Always berating her. Always telling her do better, like she¡¯s not spending every waking moment following her bidding¡­¡± Momo¡¯s heart sank as tears collected under Vivienne¡¯s eyelashes. Angry tears. Indignant ones. ¡°It¡¯s one thing if someone is terrible to you,¡± Vivienne said. ¡°But it¡¯s a whole other thing if it¡¯s your sister.¡± ¡°I understand,¡± Momo said. And she did. ¡°So that¡¯s what you told Kelly? That you quit?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Vivienne said. ¡°I told her the truth behind the scheme. How it¡¯s just Sera trying to hatch a plan against you, against Valerica. She¡¯s going to run the interview in three days ¨C and by then I¡¯ll be on a whole different continent. I¡¯m buying a one-way ticket to the Dunes.¡± ¡°Wait,¡± Momo said instinctively, reaching into her pocket. Should I show her it? There was the off chance that Vivienne was lying, and that showing her the Wraith Box would be a huge mistake. But I¡¯m stronger now. If Vivienne tried to steal it, Momo would simply steal it back. They were on more equal footing than they used to be back in Nam¡¯Dal. To hell with it. Before she could think better of it, Momo removed the Wraith Box and placed it on the coffee table, right on top of the cappuccino mug¡¯s water stain. Vivienne¡¯s eyes enlarged with terror; she shot up in her seat, backing up towards the wall like a prey animal. ¡°What ¨C how did you ¨C¡± she hissed. ¡°Get that thing away from me.¡± ¡°Sorry! Sorry! I didn¡¯t mean to scare you,¡± Momo squeaked, waving her hands around in apology. She slipped the device back into her pocket and saw Vivienne visibly relax. ¡°I just¡­ I thought you might know what to do with it. How to turn it off.¡± ¡°Is that actually what I think it is?¡± Vivienne said, her fingers still gripping the wall. ¡°Is that Sera¡¯s Kill Everything Cube?¡± ¡°I think so.¡± ¡°Shit.¡± After a moment, her shoulders fell, and she peeled herself off the wall, finding her seat across Momo yet again. She put her head in her hands, massaging her temple. ¡°She talked about it, but I thought she was crazy,¡± she said lowly, shaking her head. ¡°Sera says a lot of crazy shit. Especially about building stuff like that ¨C devices that could create mass-undead events. Soul grenades. Chain vacuums. Wraith boxes. She¡¯s named more psychopathic devices than people have named children.¡± ¡°Mass¡­ undead events?¡± Momo squinted. ¡°I know it basically sucks out your soul, but¡­¡± ¡°Yes. From what I understand, it captures it. Or, rather, lots of them. And then Sera can empty its contents into a soulless body, and create a giant undead freak,¡± she said, speaking with absolute revulsion. ¡°Look, I used to be a necromancer, and I still think it¡¯s fucked up.¡± Momo paled. The more I hear about this thing, the worse it gets. ¡°Is there a way for me to disable it? To stop it from working?¡± Vivienne raised her head, shrugging. ¡°I have no idea. And I¡¯ll have even less of a clue once the Gazette goes live. I¡¯ll be lucky if Sera doesn¡¯t try smiting me on the spot.¡± Momo frowned. ¡°Is there no way for you to contact her beforehand? Ask her about her plans before she realizes you betrayed her?¡± Vivienne looked down towards the golden bracelet attached to her wrist. The dwarven contraption, Momo remembered Grimli calling it. Vivienne unbuttoned the bottom of the bracelet¡¯s chain and let it slink down onto the coffee table. ¡°Sera gave us this thing just before she ascended,¡± she said, tapping the bracelet with her fingernail. ¡°It¡¯s some kind of Nether-altering device that allows messages to pass long distances. Nia and I used it to communicate with each other across Aloysius, and Sera used it to send us messages discreetly, without having to rely on Nether couriers.¡± ¡°So that Morgana doesn¡¯t have a chance to intercept the communications?¡± Momo deduced. ¡°Exactly,¡± Vivienne said. ¡°But the one thing we can¡¯t do is send messages to Sera. It isn¡¯t wired that way. Probably for some precautionary reasons. There¡¯s a chance it could be re-wired, but I have zero idea how. I¡¯m a knight, not a technician.¡± She pushed the bracelet across the desk to Momo. ¡°It¡¯s yours, if you want it,¡± she shrugged. ¡°Nia won¡¯t talk to me anymore, so it¡¯s useless to me.¡± Momo nodded, eagerly taking it between her fingers. Maybe Grimli will know how to rewire it, she thought. Maybe I could even use it to get into contact with Valerica. ¡°Well¡­¡± Vivienne trailed off, wiping at her eyes. ¡°That¡¯s it. That¡¯s all I got.¡± She stood. Just as she was about to reach for the door handle, Momo shot out of her seat, grabbing her by the arm. ¡°Wait,¡± Momo said, a hopeful glint in her eye. ¡°If you¡¯re looking for a boat to the Vagrant Dunes, I¡¯m looking for a crew member who isn¡¯t an annoying dwarf. I can keep you updated on your sister, and you can get the hell off this continent. What do you say?¡± 173 – She Took You By The Horns and Kissed You? Vivienne stared at her for several moments, her lip trembling. Momo wasn¡¯t sure if she was about to pummel her or storm out. Ultimately ¨C she did neither. She laughed. Laughed hard. Head thrown back and everything. ¡°How naive are you, seriously?¡± she said between fits of laughter, nearly choking on her own words. ¡°Do you just trust people mean what they say? How do you know I¡¯m not just playing the long game? God knows I¡¯ve done it before, and for much longer than this.¡± Momo shrugged. ¡°I think you underestimate how much I hate meeting new people,¡± she replied, cringing at the thought of it. ¡°I¡¯d rather trust the traitor I know over the one I don¡¯t. Less small talk that way.¡± Vivienne stared at her blankly, laughter slowly dying in her throat. ¡°You¡¯re kidding. That¡¯s an insane principle to live by. How are you not dead yet?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t think it¡¯s insane,¡± Momo said, shrugging again. ¡°Take you for example. I know exactly who you work for ¨C or worked for. I know your family. I know your deepest personal conflicts. I know all the skeletons in your closet. But that random guy named George working at the docks? For all I know, he could keep women in his basement. Do you think I want him on my boat?¡± The click-clacks of stilettos began to echo from down the hall. With a frustrated huff, Vivienne scowled at her. It wasn¡¯t an angry scowl, though ¨C it was more annoyed than anything. Pissed off that Momo had made a point that was either too stupid or too genius to refute. And the worst part was she wasn¡¯t sure which one it was. ¡°I¡¯ll give you some time to decide, okay?¡± Momo said, offering her a small, kind smile. She reached for the door handle and cranked it. ¡°If you want to join this fight on the right side of necromantic history, you can meet me at the docks at nine. Otherwise, just¡­ I don¡¯t know. Send me a postcard or something.¡± Vivienne opened her mouth to speak, but was silenced by Kelly¡¯s face materializing on the other side of the breakroom window. The sight made both of them nearly jump out of their skin. ¡°Hello ladies,¡± Kelly grinned, feral as ever. ¡°Time¡¯s up, don¡¯t you think?¡± ¡ª Kelly¡¯s interview room was nowhere near as austere as the breakroom. While it was similar in size, a shoebox of an office, with space enough for only two chairs and a messy, newspaper-laden table, it was very¡­ cozy. Like visiting your hoarder aunt¡¯s house for the holidays, it was simultaneously like being held hostage and being doted on all at once. Whether by plain intuition or by Intelligence points, Momo knew instinctively that it was all a ruse. That Kelly had designed the space to put the subject of the interview in a very specific mental space ¨C one of faux intimacy. It was the same sort of feeling you got sitting with a stranger at a bar, their face too close, their breath too hot. And that wasn¡¯t just allegory. When Momo sat, Kelly¡¯s face floated mere inches away from her, the snakes in her hair dancing by Momo¡¯s forehead. Momo studied her skin ¨C unable to find a single pore on the whole surface of it. Kelly¡¯s cheeks were red with blush, her nose brushed with full coverage foundation. She emitted a cheap sort of perfume, like the type of thing you¡¯d find at Claire¡¯s. It was all perfectly constructed; an elaborate, visual trick. If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. This was how she was better than any other journalist in the nation, Momo realized, watching as Kelly poured them both a cup of boiling hot coffee. Two cappuccinos ¨C frothing and bitter. The woman didn¡¯t have interview subjects. She had interview targets. ¡°So, Queen Momo,¡± Kelly said, face wide with a grin as she removed a pencil from behind her ear. ¡°Tell me everything.¡± ¡ª ¡°And then she took you by the horns and kissed you?¡± Kelly gasped, eyes glowing like she was reading a cheap, dollar-store romance novel. ¡°Oh my. Now I need me a man like that.¡± ¡°I ¨C I think we¡¯ve gotten away from the important part of the interview¡­¡± Momo stuttered. If it was possible for Momo to get any redder, she probably would have died. Kelly waved her hand. ¡°I disagree. My readers are going to go wild for this whole forbidden love bit. A former Holy Knight and a necromancer¡­ Gods, I¡¯m blushing just saying it outloud.¡± ¡°Maybe you could just omit that part from the published story, actually¡­¡± ¡°Are you kidding? If you want Approval, this will get you approval,¡± Kelly cackled. Momo sank further into her chair. Despite having a sixth sense for exactly how Kelly operated, Momo played perfectly into her hands. She couldn¡¯t help it. She was a people pleaser. And beyond that, Kelly¡¯s Charisma points exceeded her own paltry amount by the hundreds. Momo didn¡¯t need to see a stat sheet ¨C it was plainly obvious. She could feel a spell being cast around her, as if Kelly had poured a row of shots and made her take them in succession. Momo¡¯s eyes fell to the cursed cappuccino in front of her, now completely empty. On second thought, it might not have been a spell at all. Kelly had drugged her in plain daylight. ¡°What¡¯s in that thing?¡± Momo muttered. ¡°Oh, the coffee?¡± Kelly said, innocently raising an eyebrow. ¡°Just caffeine, honey.¡± Momo stared at her. Right. ¡°So. I think I got everything I need¡­¡± Kelly said, biting her lip as she reviewed the notes in front of her. Unlike your average modern day journalist, Kelly transcribed the entire interview by hand. For any normal person, that¡¯d be too slow to keep up with conversation, but Kelly¡¯s hand moved with a wicked, inhuman swiftness. She didn¡¯t even have to look down at the page. Her fingers moved autonomously, scribbling so fast that they blew small gusts of wind around the room. That explains why this place is such a disaster, Momo thought, gazing at the cluttered floor. So maybe it wasn¡¯t all an act ¨C Kelly just happened to have a mini fan attached to her wrist at all times. ¡°Now, to review what I¡¯ll be publishing,¡± Kelly said, smiling politely. ¡°Out of courtesy.¡± Right, Momo thought. As if I actually would have any say. ¡°One. You¡¯ll be corroborating Ms. Bellafor¡¯s story, that the Holy Resistance is indeed a sham, a ragtag group of necromancers posing as members of Jarva¡¯s Knighthood,¡± she said, licking her lips. Momo could tell how excited she was to publish that bombshell. ¡°Two. You¡¯ll be cutting your campaign short to make sure things are going smoothly in Jarvirium. Oh, sorry. What did you call it?¡± ¡°Morganium.¡± Momo had thought of the name on the spot, if it wasn¡¯t obvious. ¡°Right,¡± Kelly said, quickly crossing out a few things on the page. ¡°Morganium. And you¡¯re returning the continent to its original name, correct? Aloysius?¡± ¡°Correct.¡± Another abrupt, caffeine-driven decision, but one she felt good about. She needed to erase all evidence of Jarva¡¯s rule. Taking his name out of the common vernacular was about as powerful a tool as she could think of. ¡°Wonderful. And finally, your sizzling love affair with your Military Advisor, Sumire. Do you have a last name for her? Just Sumire?¡± Momo choked on her own spit. ¡°I think we can cut that part ¨C¡± ¡°Just Sumire is fine. Lends such mystery. Ah.¡± Before Momo could get another word in, Kelly rose from her chair, her snakes hissing happily. ¡°Well, your highness, this has been just charming,¡± she said, jutting out her hand. Momo took it reluctantly. ¡°I would keep you for longer, but I have another very important interview in five minutes. A piece about this rising chicken religion. They call themselves Followers of the Holy Bird. Have you heard of it?¡± Momo frowned. ¡°Yeah. I¡¯ve heard of it.¡± 174 – Mandrake’s Revenge Having been unsuccessful in convincing Kelly to keep the more intimate details of her love life off the presses, Momo gave up and made for the Mekna shipyard. She followed the scent of rum and the troublesome noise of sailors until she was once again at the beach¡¯s end, the reflection of the full moon glittering across the waves. ¡°Never thought I¡¯d be in the market for a ship,¡± Momo mumbled to herself. The biggest vehicle she ever thought she¡¯d pilot was the Barbie-branded Kid¡¯s Car she drove around the backyard when she was eleven. Now that was an elegant mode of transportation. But circumstances had changed. Momo looked out at her selection. Extending off the coast were a series of docks, each with at least ten attached sailboats bobbing up and down in the shallow water. Momo sighed. They were fine boats, but they were awfully tiny. She was envisioning a proper Pirates of the Caribbean experience. A mighty vessel capable of carrying mighty people, with a mighty captain at its helm. Not that she even knew how to captain a Toyota. Her eyes fell on the final, most distant dock. It was a ways away, long past Mekna¡¯s city borders. It looked to be a privately owned port, with several chain fences protecting the dock¡¯s interior. Momo could see why: hiding behind the fenced perimeter was what could only be described as a medieval yacht; a ginormous, fully-featured hunk of wood equipped with several canons, ornate decorations, and the body of a ivy-covered mermaid hanging off the front, arms outstretched towards the sea. Momo grinned. Now that¡¯s what I¡¯m talking about. ¡ª It took a few hours for Grimli to arrive at their meeting location. By then, Momo had done a complete evaluation of the kind of security she was up against. She had used [Polymorph - Nether Imp] to fly around the perimeter and, to her dismay, it was quite the operation inside. ¡°It seems to be owned by some kind of pirate organization ¨C I saw a scary guy with an eyepatch shouting at the rest of the hundred-man crew,¡± Momo informed Grimli, gesturing wildly with her hands as she tried to paint him a vivid picture. ¡°Apparently his name is Captain Alraune Mandrake, and the ship, which is a gal-yon, or something like that, is called Mandrake¡¯s Revenge.¡± ¡°I think you mean a gallion, your highness. But oh dear, the Revenge¡­¡± Grimli mumbled worriedly. ¡°What¡¯s he revenging against?¡± ¡°No clue.¡± ¡°Do you think that¡¯s a good boat for us to nab? I¡¯m not sure I want to sail something with vengeance built into it,¡± Grimli mused. ¡°What if we do something to offend it? Step on a nail or bust a piece of the deck? I don¡¯t want to invoke any wrath from a vessel the size of a small lake. Seems unwise.¡± ¡°It¡¯ll be fine, Grimli,¡± Momo sighed, waving him off. ¡°It¡¯s just a name.¡± ¡°Alright¡­¡± Grimli said, his teeth chattering with obvious disagreement. ¡°So what¡¯s the plan then, my queen? We knock ¡®em all dead? Well ¨C erm ¨C you knock ¡®em all dead? I don¡¯t have much to rely on in the fighting department. Happy to play a ballad though, if you¡¯d like.¡± ¡°That won¡¯t be necessary,¡± Momo said very quickly, possibly too quickly, judging by Grimli¡¯s forlorn expression. She immediately felt bad. ¡°Well, okay, actually, I do have one idea. Involving ballads.¡± He immediately brightened. ¡°Do you have any songs that can¡­ enchant people?¡± Momo asked. She¡¯d been wondering about this for a while now. In all the time she had spent with Grimli, she had never once heard him mention his class or his rank. He didn¡¯t seem to be big on anything besides sitting, writing, and singing unprovoked songs in untimely circumstances. Furthermore, judging by his level of talent, or lack thereof, Momo doubted that he was a high level in whatever it is he was. The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. Still, it was worth a shot. ¡°Enchant?¡± Grimli blinked. ¡°All my songs are enchanting, if I do say so myself. Enchanting for the senses.¡± ¡°Not enchanting like the adjective, Grimli. Enchanting like real magic,¡± Momo clarified. ¡°Can any of your songs put a spell on people? Charm them into, I don¡¯t know, a suggestable mood?¡± Grimli ran his hand through his beard and closed his eyes, his face screwed up in thought. ¡°Ah, magic, you say. Well. I don¡¯t usually bother with all that, but if your royal highness insists, I could perhaps use something from the dreaded Class System¡­¡± Grimli cleared his throat and summoned his own courier. He ran his eyes across the page, mumbled something under his breath, and then relinquished it again to the Nether. He then pulled out his mandolin and began to strum. ¡°[Holy Ballad of the Dreamer],¡± he sang quietly. Bright yellow light emanated from his fingertips, zigzagging across the chords and then shooting into the air above him; the light painted a halo around the musician. Momo stared at him in awe, her eyes glued to the angelic circle sitting above his head. The song sent an indescribable shiver throughout her nervous system, a ricocheting pulse of calm. After an unknown amount of time, Grimli¡¯s fingers stilled. It broke Momo¡¯s trance in an instant. ¡°Wow,¡± she said. It was like coming to after a bout of surgical anesthesia ¨C everything just felt a little bit¡­ off. ¡°That was so¡­ so¡­ incredible. Why have you not shown me that before? What else can you do?¡± Grimli shrugged. He didn¡¯t look impressed with himself in the least, which was very offbrand for the dwarf. If there was an opportunity to be praised, he would seize it in an instant. ¡°The Class System is not well regarded amongst my people,¡± he explained as he tucked the mandolin back into its case. ¡°Long ago, us dwarves were sworn to Salazar, God of Fire and Forge, but he ultimately betrayed and disavowed us. Since then, it has been considered bad luck to engage with the system. It¡¯s ad¡¯va-glad¡¯ma salzasazma. In common tongue: only a fool plays cards with the dragon.¡± ¡°Huh,¡± Momo said, eyebrows raised. ¡°Interesting.¡± Her unfortunately infinite thirst for knowledge pushed her to ask more about this disavowment, as she was not a big fan of Salazar herself, but she refrained. She knew she¡¯d only get Grimli going, and they had places to be. A galleon to steal. Plus, if she were to loiter too long in Mekna, people might start wondering why she hadn¡¯t left for the capital yet. Still¡­ she did have to ask one question. ¡°So you don¡¯t have a class at all?¡± she probed as they began to walk towards the heavily guarded marina. ¡°How does that work?¡± ¡°Of course I have a class, your highness. It is not a matter of wanting one. If you so much as lift a finger, the gods will slap one on you, willing or unwilling.¡± Grimli snorted. ¡°But I¡¯m a lucky dwarf. My Goddess Yawnica is one of the less intrusive deities in that troublesome pantheon. Let¡¯s me go about my business without any blessings or quests or save-the-universe, destroy-the-universe summer holidays like the others tend to do.¡± Momo grimaced. ¡°Sounds nice.¡± ¡ª When they arrived at the marina, the gate was open. Wide open. ¡°It wasn¡¯t like this before,¡± Momo whispered. ¡°It was shut tight. With multiple guards.¡± Momo had concocted a plan in the short time it took them to walk there. Grimli would sing the guards into a suggestible mood, and Momo would use Demagogue¡¯s [Crowd Control] to have them do the difficult work of untying the lines and undocking the ship. Then they¡¯d be off. But it seemed circumstances had changed. As they stepped inside the wharf, an eerie silence plagued them. When she had been surveying the pier hours before, it was alive with murmurs and occasional shouts of laughter. The calls and chirps of drunk sailors. Now, it was dead silent, only interrupted by the wash of waves hitting the dock and the chirping of sea ravens. Momo was about to speak when she noticed a flicker of motion in the distance. It was something small and round, coming towards them from further down the port. She couldn¡¯t make out its features for a good few seconds ¨C the fog clinging to the pier was too thick and dense ¨C but it finally emerged from the mist. Dread sunk into every limb in Momo¡¯s body. A head ¨C a severed head ¨C was rolling down the dark jetty. It landed right in front of Momo¡¯s feet, stilling at the round tip of her clog. The head¡¯s mouth was agape, stuck in permanent shock; the eyes ¨C no ¨C the eye was wide open. The other one was covered in a familiar patch of black fabric. ¡°Your highness, is that¡­¡± Grimli stuttered, the pitch of his voice high and trembling. ¡°Captain Mandrake,¡± Momo finished, all the air leaving her lungs. Another sound ¨C a slow creaking ¨C began to echo from further down the pier. Momo whipped her head towards it, and saw that the ship¡¯s mooring ropes had already been untied, laying in wet piles on the pier. Through the dark mist, she could see a single sail being floated onto a mast, a bunch of huddled figures straining to yank it as fast as they could manage. ¡°Someone¡¯s stealing the ship we were going to steal,¡± Momo realized, her eyes still wide in shock. ¡°What the hell.¡± ¡°Oh well then, I guess it wasn¡¯t meant to be ¨C¡± Grimli sing-songed, stepping backwards and away from the severed body part. To Grimli¡¯s great dismay, Momo started running straight towards it. 175 – A Reunion on a Boat, Feat. Child Labor The linen slithered along at first, hitching every so often on the wood of the mast, but with a last grunting tug by the unseeable crew, the enormous mainsail rushed up the pole, flourishing wide and majestic over the sea. The sail took to the wind immediately, tearing and rippling through the air. The boat whined madly in response, drifting further and further from the dock ¨C and further from Momo ¨C as it began to rabidly gulp down the breeze. ¡°Grimli, run faster!¡± Momo yelled. The dwarf was lagging behind, and the ship was nearly beyond jumping distance. She¡¯d have to turn up the fuel grade to Nether Dokkaebi Premium if she hoped to make it in time. ¡°My wee legs aren¡¯t built for this, your highn ¨C¡± In a flicker of decision, Momo grabbed the dwarf by the waist, hoisted him on her back, and sprinted straight for the ship. ¡°Your highness!¡± he cried out. ¡°I urge you to put me down! The distance is too far to jump, we¡¯ll just fall in and drown like a bunch of drunk sailors ¡ª¡± ¡°You forgot who you¡¯re talking to, Grimli.¡± Her feet fell across the dock like rockets of hail. She bolted so quickly that she barely needed to hit the ground to cover the distance; but when she did, the wood screamed in injury, denting to match the heel of her foot. Dozens of brittle gashes trailed behind her like animal footsteps in the snow, holes in the dock that filled with sea water and fog. The closer she got to the ship, the more consuming the fog became. She could see less and less, but she could hear more; specifically, the sound of shouting voices. ¡°I thought you killed them all!¡± ¡°I did!¡± ¡°Then what is that thing coming straight towards us?¡± The fog parted, allowing Momo to see again. In the small amount of time it¡¯d taken her to push through the mist, the ship had already climbed far into the sea, allowing for nowhere near a jump-able distance. Well ¨C for other people. ¡°[Death Monkey Leap]!¡± Grimli screamed bloody murder, nearly choking her with his grip as they sailed across the water. Momo reached out her hand and caught the edge of the boat with one arm, keeping herself attached to it with pure finger strength. If she hadn¡¯t been hanging off the side of a moving vehicle, she would have taken the time to marvel at how insanely fit she¡¯d become. She groaned as she tried to hoist herself up, but with the combined weight of Grimli and her backpack, she couldn¡¯t do it. She flailed her other arm, but it was too short. The moist humidity was quickly wrapping around her fingers, making it harder and harder to keep her grip. ¡°Damn it¡­¡± Momo grunted, squeezing her eyes tight as she flexed her arm even harder. ¡°Just¡­ a little¡­ more¡­¡± Just as she was about to give it a final attempt, a hooded head appeared above her, gazing down at the horned, white-haired parasite who had attached itself to their stolen vessel. Momo paled. The figure was wearing a midnight black, full-coverage mask, giving them the appearance of a void floating between the mist. The figure reached one long, slender arm out towards Momo¡¯s hand. It looked as if they were about to smash their knuckles down on her, when the hand paused. The figure gasped. ¡°Wait, Momo?¡± ¡ª ¡°Why the hell are you guys stealing a boat?¡± ¡°Why the hell are you stealing our stolen boat?¡± Sitting at the center of the ginormous vessel, just below the thrashing mainsail, was Momo and an unlikely group of old comrades: Kami the Tiny, Furry Excalibur Thief, Kasula the Retired Model Elf and Dog Owner, Ribeye the Mist Illusionist/Chef, and his wife, who was politely instructing an entire horde of orc children on how to operate a ginormous sailboat. Oh ¨C and one other person. Vivienne. Who was conveniently tied up and gagged on a chair in the corner. Momo was surprised to see her there for several reasons. ¡°Why is she tied up?¡± Momo asked, pointing to the Holy Knight. ¡°She¡¯s a Kyros-head, why wouldn¡¯t she be?¡± Ribeye said gruffly. ¡°We caught her hiding out in the cellars. She was planning on hitching a ride with the old pirate gang before we took care of them. We would have killed her, but we figured we¡¯d keep her around in case we needed someone to feed to the sharks.¡± Momo did not enjoy the fact that there was ever a need to feed the sharks. ¡°She¡¯s not a Kyros-head, actually,¡± Momo clarified. ¡°She¡¯s a necromancer with a weird day job and a weirder backstory. But I¡¯ll let her tell it, not me.¡± ¡°That so?¡± Kami said, blowing smoke out of his pipe. ¡°Still doesn¡¯t answer my first question though. Why are you here, Momo? Aren¡¯t you supposed to be running a kingdom, or did you bore of that like you did with old Nam¡¯Dal? Not that I blame you. Bureaucracy is a bunch of bureaucrap, ain¡¯t it?¡± This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. Momo flushed. ¡°No ¨C no! I¡¯m still very much running the queendom. Just from a distance. Please don¡¯t tell anybody I¡¯m here.¡± Kami looked around, gesturing to the thrashing waves surrounding them. ¡°Who exactly would I be telling?¡± ¡°Oh,¡± Momo squeaked. ¡°Right.¡± ¡ª It started to rain only a few minutes after their trip began, so the group retired to the cabins below deck. There were dozens of them, outfitted with sleeping bunks, chests, food rations, and changes of clothing. The pirates had obviously been prepared for a long sail, and Kami¡¯s crew had taken advantage of that, having to prep only some maps and some undergarments. Momo wished she could claim to have chosen the ship for a smart reason like theirs ¨C that it already came pre-packaged with everything you¡¯d need to take you across the ocean ¨C but truthfully she just thought it looked really cool. And big. And reminded her of a ride at Disneyland. Kami didn¡¯t have to know that, though. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s exactly why I went after it, too,¡± Momo lied. ¡°I needed a quick way overseas, and this seemed like the best bet. After a lot of careful thought and evaluation, obviously.¡± ¡°Smart lass,¡± Kami said, ripping open a package of dried fish and snacking on one. He offered it to Momo, but considering it smelled like ripe death, she declined. ¡°We had the same motive. After we stole off with the Wraith Mace, we set out to complete the weapon set. Locate the rest of the Wraith Artifacts.¡± Momo¡¯s brow creased. ¡°A weapon set? Like how the Bracelet of Blood Immortality you gave me was part of an armor set?¡± And the amulet I have locked up at home, Momo recalled. She hadn¡¯t thought about the talking bracelet or the talking amulet in a while, since she couldn¡¯t make use of either with her lack of Neculai-based class. Not that she''d love to wear them even if she could. She wasn¡¯t a fan of having talking voices in her head at all times. I can¡¯t believe those are both part of some crazy powerful vampire armor. Kami nodded. ¡°Just like that. The Wraith Artifacts are all weapons that involve different body parts of the Mist wraith. The teeth, the tongue, the hooded shawl. The weapon we¡¯re hunting next ¨C the Soul Splitting Dagger ¨C is located somewhere in the Vagrant Dunes, according to the books written by its creator.¡± Soulsplitting Dagger? That sounds like¡­ Momo instinctively gripped the Wraith Box in her pocket. It wasn¡¯t actually made of wraiths, as far as Momo knew. It was built with a 100% Sera-branded insanity (and a lot of souls cut up like chopped liver.) But there was still a small chance, given his fascination with the species and their violent tactics, that Kami knew something about how to disable it. On the other hand, this was nothing like last time. The Oblivion Stone had been an anomaly. A stain in the floorboards of the universe, and Momo had been the ever-convenient bleach and mop. This box was different ¨C it was a weapon. A weapon of mass destruction created by a desperate god. It was simple in the worst way, where all it took was the wrong pair of necromantic hands to decimate entire cities; suck the souls of hundreds of thousands of innocents. And therein lay the problem, evident from the way he was twirling the tip of a dagger in his hand as they spoke: Kami liked weapons. She didn¡¯t know if he¡¯d actually use the Box, but she knew he¡¯d be interested in it. After all, he was a collector. A voracious one. Momo trusted him and his group not to kill her, but steal from her? She wasn¡¯t so sure. Kami cleared his throat, sensing something puzzling her. ¡°What brings you across the seas, my queen?¡± Kami said after a moment, his gaze as sharp and clear as a knife. ¡°You never did tell me.¡± Momo grimaced. She knew she couldn¡¯t bullshit him. ¡°I¡¯m searching for someone,¡± she said. ¡°A frenemy.¡± That made Kami laugh. He blew another smoke ring from his pipe, smirking. ¡°I hate to ask, but considering this is you I¡¯m talking to ¨C does this frenemy just happen to hold the fate of the universe in their hands?¡± Momo laughed nervously. She gripped the devilish, swirling box of black in her pocket even harder. No, but I do. ¡ª Momo wasn¡¯t sure why Kami¡¯s plan for crewing the ship had involved child labor, but she wasn¡¯t exactly surprised when it started surfacing immediate problems. ¡°The kids are refusing to work,¡± Gita, Ribeye¡¯s wife and Head of the Children, complained, pointing to the protesting kids all sitting, arms crossed, at different places about the deck. ¡°I tried tempting them with all their favorite stews and rabbit legs, but they won¡¯t budge.¡± ¡°You said they would, Gita,¡± Kami said coldly. ¡°Their parents assured us they¡¯d be up for the job.¡± Momo didn¡¯t feel it was her place to interject, but as often happened, she did anyway. ¡°Was there a reason you paid for a hundred children to run an entire galleon¡­ instead of just¡­ paying the parents to come do the work instead?¡± Momo said slowly, not even believing the words that were coming out of her mouth. Gita looked at her as if she was stupid. ¡°Paying a hundred gold-class thieves to man a ship for a month would have run us under the floor in debt. A terrible investment. Instead, their parents are paying us to run their kids¡¯ sailing summer camp. They get the punks off their desk for a month, we get a free crew.¡± Momo gaped. ¡°Right,¡± she said. ¡°Of course. Summer camp.¡± ¡ª After much protesting about ethics and morals and child labor from Grimli, Momo finally convinced him to do a repeat of their original plan, but with the children, not the pirates. ¡°Listen here, kids,¡± he said grimly. ¡°I¡¯m going to play you a song¡­¡± He proceeded to play [Holy Ballad of the Dreamer], which Momo quickly followed up with [Crowd Control], and before long, the kids were laughing and cheering as they trimmed the sails and monitored the tide. It was a marvelous sight of teamwork, and Momo only felt a smidgen of guilt at the morality of the whole situation. After all, this was just what was to be expected at summer camp. Soon enough, she got a notification from the courier.
Congratulations! For shamelessly brainwashing a hundred children into manning your stolen ship, you have reached level 2 in [Demagogue]. [Cult of Personality] has upgraded to [Cult of Personality II], allowing you to now have 3 Loyal Followers total. Loyal Followers also now have access to the spell [Evangelize], which allows them to more easily convince people to your cause by temporarily increasing their Charisma by fifteen points. Since you also have the title [Ruler] and the title [Queen], you have gained the skill [Spy on Foreign Policy] which allows you to use your Ruler System to get a rundown of the laws and culture of any foreign nation you are inhabiting, excluding the laws of The Nether, which are proprietary information that can only be viewed at the Creation of the Universe Museum.
Momo shook her head. She had to start being a better person quickly, or her next class was going to be Evil Dictator. 176 – Vra’ta and the Visitor At sea, the sun woke much like a toddler; bristly and thrashing and all at once. The reflection of its rays on the water were stark and blinding, the type of overwhelming light that made Momo wish she died with sunglasses on ¨C the cheap plastic ones you found discarded and half-broken by the beach. That would have been nice, and certainly more useful than her real funeral attire: a stained Fifth Harmony t-shirt, men¡¯s boxers, and the jeans she forgot to strip off before passing out. Luckily, the late pirates¡¯ belongings provided their own solution to the sun problem. While they didn¡¯t have sunglasses or sunscreen, they compensated by covering just about everything else the body had to display. Sitting at the bottom of the Captain¡¯s clothing chest were a hat and a bandana, ruffled collar shirts, leather jerkins, and wide, ridiculous trousers that had the silhouette of Mom Jeans. Momo grimaced. These were not made for someone with my body type. Or her clothing preferences. The captain had been a broad, sturdy man with a liking for audacious colors. Momo was a small, clumsy woman who didn¡¯t like to stand out from the color palette of your average door. They weren¡¯t exactly compatible enough to share closets. Still, she had little other options. She reluctantly took the head coverings ¨C the hat and the bandana ¨C and left the rest of the outfit for someone with more torso and less shame. Not that the hat was any less audacious than the rest of the garb. It was a proper pirate hat. The kind you¡¯d see in those old swashbuckler movies: worn and patchy, with a wide brim that curved up on three sides. But instead of a skull and crossbones on its front, the cap was covered in live plant roots; purple and green leaves sprouted from the rim of it, dancing in the wind.
You have equipped [Captain Mandrake¡¯s Tricorn]
  • 3 CHA
  • 4 STR
This item gives you the skill [Yar Har Har]: That¡¯s pirate-speak for Get The Hell Of My Boat. If a rival ship tries to board, this skill can be activated to send a very loud and threatening message. Warning: Instruct other party members to cover their ears when performing it.
¡ª One thing Momo didn¡¯t expect about sea travel ¨C it was loud. She always pictured it as a quiet journey accompanied by the whisper of the tide, a time for reflective meditation about one¡¯s life and struggles. No. It was nothing of the sort. It was a constant battle. Not with any one person, but with the wind. With the twisted whims of that terrible thing called weather. And appeasing the weather took more than effort. It took know-how. For the first week, she spent most of her time learning the ropes, literally. Ribeye and Gita were the only sailors aboard, so they instructed the hundred children ¨C and Momo ¨C in daily, spirited sessions. As it turned out, quite annoyingly, only half of sailing a boat was technique and muscle memory, the rest was vocabulary. For whatever reason, sailors decided to gatekeep the secrets of their profession behind a variety of ridiculous phrases like trim the main and jibe and tack and hoist the jib leeward. Only one of those words was a lie. Just kidding. None of them were. ¡°So what happened with your vehicle?¡± Momo asked Grimli, setting down her flashcards for the day. The inside of her mind was reverberating with sailor nonsense, and she needed a break. ¡°Ah, my ¨C oh! I never did show you, did I?¡± Grimli dug into his pocket and produced a small, golden ball of metal. It was no bigger than the pit of an avocado, sitting delicately in his hand. The more Momo looked at it, the more strongly it resembled her chancellor. ¡°I¡¯m confused,¡± Momo muttered. ¡°Did you exchange it for a bauble?¡± He gave her an offended look. ¡°Exchange? My vra¡¯ta is an exquisite, near priceless work of machinery. I would never exchange it for something as menial as human currency.¡± ¡°Your¡­ what?¡± she blinked. ¡°Vra¡¯ta,¡± he repeated, louder this time. Suddenly, the ball in his hand began to whirr, twirling quicker and quicker as it spun out and tripled in size. Like a machine that was carefully unpackaging its rib cage, long tendons of metal began to extend from its center, splintering out and turning into legs, arms, mechanical feet. Before long, a wolf-like creature of metal was standing before them on the deck, with hollow, concave eyes and a golden snout. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. It then proceeded to start licking its paws, its copper tongue lapping at its wrists. It didn¡¯t seem to mind the gaping, horned human staring at it nor the raging sea breeze. ¡°Oh my god,¡± Momo whispered. ¡°It¡¯s a mechanical puppy. Why didn¡¯t you tell me you had a mechanical puppy?¡± ¡°Oh, dang nab it ¨C Vra¡¯ta, kushrag¡¯va!¡± The wolf whined, its ears flapping down in protest as it began to repackage itself. The process was the most elegantly designed metamorphosis that Momo could imagine ¨C the dog¡¯s hind legs folded in on its torso, then its front paws in on its wrists, until finally it was nothing more than a gold ball once more, ham-fisted between Grimli¡¯s knuckles. ¡°That¡¯s your vehicle?¡± Momo said, still gaping. ¡°I thought it was like a¡­ forklift? At least that¡¯s how it looked up on the stage in Mole City.¡± ¡°One of its many forms,¡± Grimli corrected, frowning as he pocketed the sphere. He didn¡¯t seem to like the attention it was garnering from the hundred-so thieving children on the deck. ¡°Get back to work kids, nothing to see here!¡± ¡°So is puppy its main form?¡± Momo asked quietly as Grimli tugged her towards a more discreet area of the deck. It was the lookout point at the tip of the vessel, the rare place where you could dangle your feet just above the mist. ¡°There is no puppy form, your highness,¡± he bristled. Momo frowned. ¡°But yes, that was Vra¡¯ta¡¯s main form, the Wolf of Alloy. It¡¯s his attack formation.¡± Momo¡¯s eyes widened. So he¡¯s like a transformer from Transformers. ¡°Just how many forms does the ball have?¡± Grimli seemed to relax now that he was farther from the prying eyes of children. He took in a deep breath and sat down, extending his legs over the edge of the boat. ¡°Vra¡¯ta has four forms,¡± he said quietly, like it was a secret. ¡°Attack, Defense, Transport, and¡­ another one. That one doesn¡¯t have a good translation to common tongue.¡± That just made Momo even more curious, but he cut her off before she could talk again. ¡°Transport is the one you saw on the stage.¡± Momo quirked her head, confused. ¡°No offense, but it didn¡¯t look like the most practical means of transportation. It looked like it could lift a small cow, but that¡¯s about it.¡± Grimli harrumphed, crossing his arms as the tide splashed over his leggings. ¡°You didn¡¯t see anything yet. That thing can go at lightning speeds while carrying a cow. Or better yet ¨C a small family of cows.¡± Momo thought back to the small family of cows at Valerica¡¯s old farm. She wondered how they were doing since their caretaker¡¯s promotion. She frowned. The thought pulled at her like a drowning current. It made her want to stand up. ¡°Well, I can¡¯t wait to see just how many cows it can carry,¡± she said, pulling herself up by the lookout pole and gandering out at the massive, turbulent expanse of blue. ¡°Whenever it is we get there.¡± ¡ª It was their fourteenth day at sea when a new passenger arrived on deck. It is important to note that this passenger was not Vivienne, who had been there the entire time. Momo convinced Kami to release her from her bindings by day two, which the woman gratefully reacted to by spitting on the group of them, then stowing herself away in a cabin to sulk. Momo didn¡¯t blame her. Losing your faith and your sister all in one afternoon had a certain sting to it. Momo had lost her entire family and all of her McDonalds App points in one evening, too. And that had left her traumatized enough to become a necromancer. Anyways ¨C no. This visitor was not Vivienne, nor her charming sister. The new passenger arrived on a dark and stormy night; only every night on the Revenge was dark and stormy, so it was, by all accounts, a very normal afternoon. Momo had briefly taken over the wheel from Kasula, whose shoulder was starting to strain from the constant back-and-forth that was piloting a ship with a hundred children crew members. It was just about time for her to hand over the reins again that Momo saw the dark mist proliferating just above the sail. It was not the normal color of mist, not white or puffy or see-through. But dark and remarkably purple. It made the back of Momo¡¯s head thump unpleasantly, as if she was being pulled towards something. Like a fish to a squirming bait worm. ¡°That¡¯s Nether,¡± she realized, just as the mist burst. A figure shot down from it, fast and sharp, like an angel falling from heaven. The children reacted as children do (and very often as adults to, sometimes more so than children) ¨C by running and screaming and crying. The sail whipped wildly, uncontrolled, and the ship began to bow down towards the current. Momo groaned as she threw all her strength into turning the wheel the opposite direction, pulling uselessly against the wind. ¡°Grimli!¡± she screamed. ¡°Calm them down!¡± The dwarf pulled out his mandolin, but the boat¡¯s back-and-forth thrashing took him off his feet, and soon enough he was sailing into the wooden seats, yowling in pain. The children only got more frenzied, and Kami and the rest emerged from the underbelly in confusion. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± Gita yelled. ¡°Ribeye ¨C control your children!¡± ¡°My children? These aren¡¯t my bloodline, these aren¡¯t even my responsibility!¡± Momo took in a shallow breath and activated [Nether Cultivator]. Just as she suspected, the mist was not mist at all. It was flickering, twitching bursts of Nether. The Nether wasn¡¯t unstable, per se, but it was obviously not native to this realm. Momo had noticed the same phenomenon with the cloud grunts. Nether, the material of the universe, was always around, no matter where you went, but one could tell ¨C with enough practice ¨C when it was some place it wasn¡¯t meant to be, quite like one could tell apart two identical twins if you were to ask them who was older. As Ribeye and Gita settled the children, the Nether storm began to recede. The figure, shrouded in darkness, didn¡¯t bother to address anyone, but instead stalked carefully and purposefully up to Momo, and put its hand on the wheel. When it did, the boat stopped moving. Everything stopped moving. The air, the currents. ¡°Momo,¡± the figure greeted, two canines peeking out of a broad, sinister smile. ¡°Oh how I¡¯ve missed you, dear.¡± 177 – Check Your Sources The funny and annoying thing about sadness is how it sneaks up on you. In moments of weakness, you feel a pull just below your jaw, in the weak nape of your neck, but then you¡¯d push it down, force that desperate feeling to wade water for as long as possible, drown it below the noise of everyday life. But sometimes something, someone, comes along, so suddenly, so abruptly, that they drain all the water out of that pool of repression; they force those uncomfortable feelings to surface, arms spread, and devour you. Nothing could have prepared Momo for the tsunami that was seeing Valerica again. It was an involuntary motion, really, her hands wrapping around the woman encased in all black, more of a beautiful void than a person. Somehow she still smelled the same ¨C blood and lavender ¨C and her laugh was just as maniacal and sweet, her hands as cold and kind as they held the small of Momo¡¯s back. Seconds, minutes passed, yet not a flicker of life moved on the boat. Not a squeak of the wood or a thrash of waves. It was just them; as clich¨¦ as overwrought and simplistic as it was, that was the only way Momo could think to put it. She found herself crying into Valerica¡¯s collar, embarrassed as her tears stained the purple cloth. But Valerica didn¡¯t mind ¨C she just held her, let the low notes of Momo¡¯s sobs hit her chest as she hummed something Momo didn¡¯t recognize, but enjoyed all the same. ¡°Oh, dear,¡± she said, pulling back Momo¡¯s hair and forming it into a bun, strapping it together with a black elastic. ¡°People management takes a toll on the soul, does it not?¡± Sniffling, Momo finally pulled away, facing the woman in full. The Nether around her had dispersed, leaving her new form in the plain daylight. She looked mostly the same, her skin was still as pale as a vampire¡¯s, her lips still bloody red, but she was taller now, the kind of size that distinguished her from regular mortals; it gave her a sense of superiority, of god-like condescension. It suited her. Her clothes had also changed, although due to her ascension, or simply her ever-transient fashion tastes, Momo wasn¡¯t sure. Gone were the Necromage robes, replaced instead by a sheer black dress that went down to her ankles, wisps of smoke billowing from the sleeves. A dark purple attach¨¦ sat at her hip, and a blooming lavender flower was tucked behind her ear. She looked like a Bond Girl dressed for a cocktail party; the type of look that was hiding a gun. ¡°You look great,¡± Momo whispered, blushing as she did. After all, she was really looking upon a goddess, not in the metaphorical, I have a crush on the hot cult leader kind of way, but a proper, Morgana-appointed deity. It overwhelmed her senses in an entirely new way than before. ¡°So do you,¡± Valerica said earnestly, taking one of Momo¡¯s remaining white locks and twisting it around her finger. As she did, the hair went from white to black, alive to ash. Valerica withdrew her finger immediately, a pained expression on her face. ¡°Oh drat. I forgot I was made of Nether now. Apologies to your poor hair follicle, you probably will be bald there for a few months.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it,¡± Momo laughed nervously, watching as the ashen remains of her hair floated to the ground. Valerica looked towards the top of the massive sail, where the crow¡¯s nest sat. ¡°Why don¡¯t we find a quiet place to drink, hm?¡± ¡ª ¡°Is that¡­ alcohol?¡± ¡°In a way,¡± Valerica said, leaning back and propping her knees up in the small, enclosed space. The bird¡¯s nest was shaped like a circular bathtub, with about as much space as one. They sat parallel, their knees knocking together. It was intimate and cozy, and cold, the air chilled and the oxygen lackluster, but the view was spectacular. Momo could see for miles, even beyond the mist, towards the runny egg of a horizon; she could even see a few smaller, softly bobbing boats in the distance. Other sailors heading East. Uncorking the drink, Valerica filled two cups up with a dark liquid. It came from a shining glass bottle, with a label reading Nether Nectar on the front. She gave one glass to Momo, who eyed it with equal parts fear and suspicion, then pressed the other to her own lips, drinking it slowly. ¡°I still prefer wine,¡± she said. ¡°But nothing beats the trip that Nectar can take you on.¡± The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°The trip?¡± Momo said slowly, knowing she had been smart for not immediately swallowing it down. Gifts from Valerica were always meant to be enjoyed after asking as many questions as possible, and then, even after that, probably stored in a dark cellar somewhere in case they grew sentient. ¡°Oh yes,¡± she laughed, that glint in her eye that told Momo to be very afraid. ¡°It¡¯s just divine. Three shots of this and your soul chain is being ripped across the planes like a fish on a reel. It¡¯s perfect for a stomach ache or any malady, really. There won¡¯t be enough of you left to feel the pain.¡± Momo stared at her. ¡°So this¡¯ll kill me?¡± ¡°Of course not. What part of what I said made you think that?¡± Valerica pouted. ¡°It simply lets you teleport between the mortal realm and the Nether. If you were still human, it¡¯d probably result in a particularly gruesome death, yes, but fortunately, you are not. You are just an adorable little horned demon now. It¡¯s the way I always saw you, really.¡± Valerica reached out to touch Momo¡¯s horned head, then paused mid air, seemingly remembering what happened to her hair when she cradled that just a moment before. Momo stopped herself from being disappointed. Properly taking in what Valerica said, Momo brightened slightly. ¡°So if I drink this I can visit you whenever I want?¡± ¡°Probably,¡± Valerica said, licking her lips. ¡°Not sure. That¡¯s why you¡¯ll have Nyk to help you along.¡± ¡°Nyk?¡± ¡°Oh, haven¡¯t you two met?¡± Valerica opened her attach¨¦ and revealed a small glass jar. Inside it was a woman, shrunken down to the size of a pixie, pounding at the glass. Her voice was too small to hear, but she seemed obviously pissed. The hairstyle, the clothing, the general sense of gothic distress ¨C Momo immediately recognized her. It was the dokkaebi that Sera had sent to kill her back in Snowdrop. ¡°You trapped her in a glass jar?¡± Momo squeaked. ¡°Please don¡¯t tell me you¡¯re going to open it.¡± ¡°Of course I am,¡± Valerica laughed. ¡°But not yet. We still have much to discuss.¡± She stuffed the jar back into her purse. ¡°So,¡± Valerica said, clapping her hands together and leveling Momo with a meaningful look. ¡°You¡¯re the queen of a nation now. Worse, a nation of unruly citizens who haven¡¯t yet accepted your sovereignty, and there¡¯s a counter-movement to overthrow you, led by traitorous necromancers, no less ¨C yet you¡¯re floating away to a distant land on a stolen ship, just like Jarva did.¡± She took another casual sip, then smiled placidly. ¡°How do you square that circle?¡± Momo flushed, taken aback. That had to be the most direct and critical thing Valerica had ever said to her. The woman usually spoke in elaborate, insane riddles that could only be deciphered by some sort of undiscovered artificial intelligence, but that series of observations was¡­ uncomfortably lucid. Momo squirmed under Valerica¡¯s lightning sharp gaze, crossing her arms in front of her stomach. Is this what being turned into a goddess did to her? If so, Momo wanted to rewrite her haiku. ¡°Yes, but, um ¨C¡± ¡°Oh, your face. I¡¯m merely joking, Momo,¡± Valerica grinned. It was terrifying. ¡°I know exactly how you square that circle. As always, your mental chess is leagues ahead of my own ¨C even with my new, all-powerful brain. You clearly just wanted a vacation. You take after me, my dear, knowing that it¡¯s always best to take your paid time off the moment things have truly hit their cataclysmic point.¡± ¡°Wait, what?¡± ¡°It makes complete sense to me. You knew that Sera and I were having a little tiff, a bit of a ram-on-ram situation, our horns crossed ¨C hah, horns, not literally like you, of course ¨C so you wanted to sit this one out while we figured things out. Brilliant, really. You didn¡¯t want to get your citizens involved in the fray, so you decided to let things fizzle out.¡± ¡°No, that¡¯s not exactly ¨C¡± ¡°But it¡¯s no problem, really. You can turn the ship around now. Sera and I made up.¡± Momo¡¯s mouth froze in place. She waited for the punchline, but nothing came. ¡°I¡¯m sorry ¨C you what?¡¯ ¡°Ah, is that not an expression amongst you earthlings? Made up. Er, made amends. Confessed. Atoned. Purged. Prayed at the altar of friendship. We are good. So much so that we¡¯re going to go on a trip together to the Distant Isles once she¡¯s back from her research sabbatical. I¡¯ve been in a frenzy to buy the right bathing suit, you know ¨C something casual yet cool yet not too cool.¡± As Valerica droned on about her preferences in swimwear, Momo¡¯s brain slowly broke down. She blinked several times and nodded along, trying to piece together exactly what she was hearing right now. Does she seriously not know? ¡°Valerica, just who do you think is running the Holy Resistance?¡± ¡°The who?¡± ¡°The traitorous necromancers you mentioned.¡± ¡°Oh, them. Yes, yes, Bia and Burgienne. I¡¯ve heard they¡¯re just the nastiest breed of necromancer. Totally unfaithful, allergic to the smell of blood. Just unsuited. Not a clue who they think they¡¯re working for, they stand for nothing that Morgana would agree with.¡± ¡°Oh my god,¡± Momo said, the color draining from her face. ¡°Valerica, I ¨C where have you been getting your information from?¡± Valerica¡¯s eyebrow creased. ¡°Well, Sera. Of all us three, Morgana appointed her to oversee mortal affairs. Of course, I didn¡¯t trust her at first, I¡¯m not dim, but every time I could reasonably check on things, I did. I wasn¡¯t able to dig deep into the details, I¡¯m quite busy with my onboarding, but all the high-level items she was reporting seemed to be adding up to reality. Necromancer rebellion, chicken religion, stolen pirate ship, et cetera.¡± Momo ran her hands through her hair, a headache forming there. ¡°Of course¡­¡± When she met Valerica¡¯s eyes again, a quiet fury had begun to build behind them. The ship began to creak, the mist grew dark above the sail. A bird, previously sitting peacefully on the mast, suddenly combusted. ¡°Am I missing something, darling?¡± 178 – Quest Rewards & The Power of Literacy While the sun remained fixed and unmoving in the sky, Momo filled Valerica in on the myriad surprises and twists that had occurred since she ascended the throne. From finding Nam¡¯Dal in chicken-inspired ruin, to watching the downfall of a promising young dancer, uncovering the secret identity of the Holy Resistance, to finally being gifted the Wraith Box, which brought her here, to this very moment, gliding along the endless ocean. In true Valerica fashion, the woman reacted with a simple, nondescript smile. It was as eerie as the first day Momo met her ¨C like watching the tip of an iceberg meander slowly towards your boat. It was impossible to judge the size of the destruction it was hiding underneath. ¡°I¡¯m too trusting,¡± Valerica said with a light laugh, her voice as smooth as cream. ¡°I knew better, but I wanted to believe Sera had changed. That¡¯s my greatest flaw, Momo. Yours too ¨C it¡¯s part of why I like you so much. You¡¯re blithe naivete.¡± Momo blushed, but her heart stung. She could hear the subtle insecurity in Valerica¡¯s voice. It made her want to cry again. She swallowed it down; now wasn¡¯t the time to be a baby. Valerica so rarely put aside the riddles and talked like this, so raw and clear. ¡°It¡¯s a rather amusing irony, looking back. When I first met Sera, we were fast friends. Two hotshots at the top of our necromantic careers. I was running my first coven, she was Kalendale College¡¯s first Professor of Dark Magics. But despite our similarities, she was leagues ahead of me. Millions of experience points beyond my own meager pool. She was such a rabid student, you see ¨C she could concoct spells of enormous power in an afternoon. Revive enough undead to run a small country,¡± Valerica¡¯s eyes glistened in memory. ¡°I looked up to her immensely.¡± Momo could barely believe that. It was hard to imagine someone outmatching Valerica¡¯s power, even Sera. The former Necropriest was strong, yes, but her strength predominantly lied in her tools, her minions, her creations. Valerica¡¯s power was raw and electric. If the two were to fight, to properly fight, it would be like a god dueling with a toymaker. Momo knew it in her gut. ¡°If she was so powerful, how did she mess up so badly?¡± Momo asked, prodding her further. ¡°Wasn¡¯t she basically single-handedly responsible for the Dark Calamity going off the rails?¡± ¡°Ah, Momo, what is the weakness of every powerful person?¡± Valerica asked, smirking. When Momo kept silent, Valerica helped her along. ¡°Ego. Hubris. Sera¡¯s ability to voraciously absorb knowledge and create new types of undead made her believe she was above everyone else. But as you know, power isn¡¯t everything. When the powerful are done laying waste to each other, it leaves only the meek behind.¡± Valerica took another long sip of her drink and sighed, looking out at the still waves. ¡°But it seems Sera is intent on leaving nothing behind,¡± she said after a moment. She was contemplating something, but Momo wasn¡¯t sure what. ¡°Her stupid death box. May I see it?¡± ¡°Oh, sure.¡± Momo obliged her quickly, digging the Wraith Box from her pant pocket and placing it into Valerica¡¯s outstretched palm. The woman¡¯s face went cold and serious as she studied it, the Nether around her flickering like a tormented flame. ¡°Drat,¡± she said. The word did not seem to encompass the emotion behind it. ¡°And to think I was just getting the hand of Nether maintenance. Ugh. Every crisis begets another in this world, doesn¡¯t it?¡± she asked rhetorically, in the tone of a preschool teacher who had just finished wiping up some toddler¡¯s rejected lunch. ¡°I would take this devilish thing back to Morgana and have her do away with it, but I fear doing so will destabilize it, and possibly activate it here, on this very ship. And sucking your soul ¨C and every soul in a hundred miles ¨C into a box is not my idea of a pleasant afternoon.¡± ¡°Agreed,¡± Momo squeaked. ¡°Gods. To think that scheming witch had the chutzpah to call her time away a research sabbatical,¡± Valerica all but growled. ¡°This is just like her. She claims to have Morgana¡¯s best interest in mind, but all she¡¯s ever wanted is just this ¨C complete, unopposable power over mortals. And what¡¯s more unopposable than keeping all of them in a box, tortured for eternity? Gosh. How drab. How uninteresting. A mind like hers, and all she can think to obsess over is something as uninspired as eternal agony.¡± Valerica let out an annoyed exhale, then curled her hands into fists on her lap. ¡°But enough of this talk. We are both women of action, are we not? Just as we solved the last problem, we shall go ahead and solve this one. Sure, there are some new variables ¨C you have a queendom to run, I have a delicate, fragile universe to look after ¨C but eternal death box or Nether implosion, these are all just details,¡± Valerica said, standing up. ¡°What matters is you¡¯re not stressing yourself out too much, dear. It¡¯ll make your hair fall out.¡± Momo stared blankly at her. At least then the rest of my head would match the bald spot you gave me, she thought. This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. ¡°Before I go, a few things. One, I¡¯ll relay this all to Morgana, but I suspect Sera has already put some precautions up to evade her. She will have figured a backup plan if all things go south. Two, remember that it is three shots of the good stuff to get you over to the Nether, and take Nyk with you as a tour guide, things can get scrappy in there these days ¨C the plumbing is still an in progress situation ¨C and three, you have some rewards to claim, don¡¯t you?¡± Valerica winked. With a snap of her fingers, a courier whizzed in from the sky, the only moving thing in a hundred miles. It landed promptly in Momo¡¯s lap, burning hot like it was fresh off the printing press. Momo held it in her Nether-black hands, and the edges sizzled.
You have collected 50,000 XP in Nether Dokkaebi. Congratulations! Nether Dokkaebi has upgraded to level 2. CLASS SYSTEM ADMIN NOTE: The skill [Nether Cultivator] has been renamed to its original classification, [Eye of the Nether Demon]. This Excalibur-grade skill was never meant to be distributed to an Intermediate Corrupted Druid, but due to UNFORESEEN ERRORS WITHIN THE UNIVERSE, shit happens. The skill will not be removed.
Momo¡¯s eyes widened. Class system admin note? That was a new one. It seemed, under Valerica¡¯s jurisdiction, the system was actually turning into a well-oiled machine. Her interactions with it previously indicated that the underlying mechanics were pretty much a disorderly gamble with a few haphazard balancing mechanics stapled to the side. But knowing the former Necromage, there was nothing she loved more than organizing chaos. Also ¨C [Eye of the Nether Demon]? That sounded way scarier than the original name. She didn¡¯t like what it alluded to, either. Was there an Excalibur Nether Demon class? And given that she was already a Nether Goblin, would Nether Demon be her natural next step? No way. She hoped not. Demagogue had been her last straw; she very desperately wanted to put her eggs in a much cheerier, heroic basket. No more of this doomsday villain stuff. With a sigh, she kept reading.
[Eye of the Nether Demon]: You can see and interact with soul chains, harnessing their soulpower to create undead forms (weapons, monsters, or utility objects). Due to your previous actions, this spell has evolved a [See Injured Souls] option. This allows you to use [Eye of the Nether Demon] to view damaged soul chains. This does not impact your ability to repair them.
Her brow crinkled. Due to your previous actions¡­ Did it mean her stunt with Culver? Back when she reached out and touched his soul chain, flowing every ounce of Mana she could manage into it until she passed out on the floor of the medic tent. She had assumed that managing to save him was a fluke, an unrepeatable one-off, but apparently the system had registered it.
You have also gained the following skill: [Soul First Aid]: Repair injured soul chains on the verge of breaking.
Is the system actually encouraging my good behavior? This was the first time in recent memory that Momo was actually happy that her actions had consequences.
[Maladaptive Daydreams] has been upgraded to [Maladaptive Daydreams II]: You can now control the narrative of the nightmare in order to elicit certain actions or dialogue.
¡°That is actually torture,¡± Momo said under her breath. I¡¯m sure it¡¯ll come in handy. ¡°Ooh, torture,¡± Valerica said, grinning. Momo gave her a strange look. ¡°Weren¡¯t you the one calling torture drab like five minutes ago?¡± Valerica pouted. ¡°As one¡¯s main hobby, yes. But a girl can have side projects.¡± Before Momo could properly digest that sentence, Valerica reached once more into her attach¨¦. She withdrew two skill books and placed them in her lap. Then she gave her protege a wicked grin; much like staring into the open jowls of a wolf, Momo knew there was nothing wholesome waiting for her within those pages. ¡°You know, Momo, you owe me quite the thank you,¡± Valerica said mischievously, tapping the cover of the book on the right. ¡°Have you noticed how light these feel in your lap?¡± She had, actually. Remembering back to her session with Extrius, she knew that skill books beyond her comprehension level ¨C so, Excalibur-grade ones ¨C should be too heavy for her to bear. But this one was as light as your average novel. The only thing distinguishing it was the spine, which glowed bright yellow and shimmered in the light. ¡°I did,¡± she said, her voice small and reverential. Valerica never ceased to impress her. ¡°How did you do that?¡± ¡°As part of my onboarding, I¡¯ve been plagued with enough reading assignments to asphyxiate a school child. Since time moves differently in the Nether, that means I¡¯ve consumed roughly forty-two thousand books in the last two months,¡± she said, rolling her eyes as if that was light work. ¡°Anyway, the terrible exercise awarded me with the Librarian minor class, and the skill [Bless Student]. I casted it while you were reading your courier.¡± ¡°Huh? You did? I didn¡¯t hear it,¡± Momo said, her mind still reeling at forty-two thousand books. Now that seemed like Momo¡¯s idea of torture. She made a mental note to never go through goddess onboarding, no matter how appealing it might seem at the time. ¡°I cast it silently, dear. I can cast everything silently now. A feature of godhood, it seems ¨C a mouth becomes unnecessary. At least for this sort of thing.¡± She winked again. Momo nearly fell out of the bird¡¯s nest. ¡°G ¨C gotcha.¡± True enough, when Momo checked her blessings scroll, she found the following status.
[Blessing of Literacy]: For the next 02:16 hrs, you can read skill books above your level.
¡°Now,¡± Valerica said, placing her hand over Momo¡¯s and pressing it into the cover of the book. ¡°Let¡¯s get studying, shall we?¡± 179 – Soul Cannibal Momo started with the book on the left. It was the lighter of the two, and, in the same stylistic vein as the other skill books, the cover was painted from bottom to top with smooth oil pants. It had a vaguely Impressionist feel, a Monet type playfulness in how the light streamed into the picturesque scene ¨C a human and a skeleton holding hands and meditating in a field of wilted roses. ¡°It¡¯s beautiful,¡± Momo remarked, smoothing her hand over the cover. She always loved the bumpy surface of an oil painting; that satisfying combination of silky smooth and erratic, like riding your hand over the surface of a sand dune. She opened to the first page, and promptly realized that she had never actually read a skill book before. Extrius had used his Librarian skills to teach her one by proxy, but she never had to actually do anything except close her eyes and visualize. Not that you could actually read one of these things. They were picture books, only every time she gazed at the paintings within, her eyes strained like she was looking straight into the sun. ¡°Is it supposed to be this painful?¡± Momo asked, squinting so hard she could barely see the page. ¡°I feel like my irises are about to burn out.¡± ¡°Oh, right,¡± Valerica said. ¡°I knew I had forgotten something. [Blessing of the Reader].¡± Valerica set her palm on top of Momo¡¯s hand, and a lilac colored light traveled between them. The pain in Momo¡¯s eyes dwindled, and they started to feel unnaturally numb, as if they¡¯d been left out in the cold all night. When she moved them, it felt like jostling two ice cubes. ¡°Good thing you reminded me,¡± Valerica snorted. ¡°I forgot just how abysmal your reading apprehension is. A couple more minutes of staring into that page without protection and you¡¯d have two less eyeballs.¡± Momo gaped. How convenient. ¡°But I¡¯m good now, then?¡± she asked miserably. ¡°My eyes feel like they were put in the freezer.¡± ¡°Ah, yes. That¡¯s a good sign,¡± Valerica nodded. ¡°Just don¡¯t blink too much, or else.¡± ¡°Or else¡­ what?¡± Momo mumbled. ¡°Not a clue, my dear. I¡¯ve never casted this spell before, but I¡¯m sure something could go wrong. Something always does,¡± Valerica shrugged. ¡°Now read along, darling. There¡¯s only so much of that first blessing left, and my [Time Freeze] skill will wear off soon. I can¡¯t exist in this realm after that ¨C I¡¯ll be transported back, as if I was never here.¡± That thought alone pulled at Momo¡¯s heartstrings. She was just getting used to having Valerica back. She didn¡¯t want to lose her again so quickly. But she had a way to get to her now ¨C probably. To travel to the Nether. And if she could find a dwarven mechanic to repair Vivienne¡¯s bracelet, maybe she¡¯d have a direct line of contact, too. No portal-jumping required. Both promising, but both risky. Okay, stop being anxious, Momo reprimanded herself. Start reading. She cast [Focus], and got to work. ¡ª It took twenty five minutes of total, uninterrupted concentration ¨C something earthly Momo could have only achieved in her wildest dreams ¨C but she did it, closing the back cover with a slam and exhaling dramatically as if she had just run a half-marathon.
You have learned the Expert-grade skill [Bone Meditation]: Once a day, you can commune with one of your undead companions in order to boost one of your base stats by 10 points for the rest of the day. This boost will apply to both you and the undead.
Wait, I can commune with Dusk? Momo thought, immediately perking up. She hadn¡¯t gotten nearly enough one on one time with the cat recently. Having an incentive to sit down and pet the boney oncilla once in a while was certainly one of the best skills she¡¯d gotten yet. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. ¡°Ah, I remember when I first got that skill,¡± Valerica said, smiling nostalgically. ¡°I used to practice it on one of the skeletons I had chained up in the Dawn¡¯s basement. Simpler times.¡± Momo sighed. That woman¡¯s moral compass was certainly in a state of constant flux. ¡ª The second book was somehow easier, despite being an Excalibur-grade read. It was kind of like how when you already have a sunburn, it hurts a lot less the second time. The skin¡¯s already dead, the nerve endings fried. It only took her fifteen minutes to skim through this book, and it didn¡¯t hurt a bit; the plot was a lot more fun as well. Cheery even. Up until the last page. ¡°Oh my god,¡± Momo shrieked. ¡°Why did he eat him?¡± ¡°Quite the twist ending, isn¡¯t it?¡± Valerica giggled. ¡°Skill book plots are usually so dry. But this one really makes you want to re-read it for all the foreshadowing. Azrael is a brilliant writer.¡± Momo paused, looking up from the book. ¡°Azrael wrote this?¡± ¡°Naturally,¡± she said. ¡°There are only so many former Excaliburs. Sera¡¯s written a bunch, but she only hands them out to members of her little cult. And I can¡¯t be bothered to write any myself. Quills give me hand cramps.¡± Seriously? Momo glared. I could have so many skills if only she¡¯d learn how to properly use a pencil. Before she could think on it further, a courier appeared in her lap.
You have learned the Excalibur-grade skill [Soul Cannibal]: Absorb the soul of a foe after vanquishing them, preventing them from returning to the Nether or reincarnating for as long as you live. You will also learn their most powerful skill, regardless of their class.
Momo¡¯s fingers trembled as she held the page. She read the description twice over, the shock of it not diminishing even a little bit the second time. She had never read something so selfish in her life. Devouring a soul just for the sake of power. ¡°Valerica ¨C I. This is evil,¡± Momo said, looking up at her mentor. ¡°I don¡¯t want this.¡± Valerica pursed her lips. ¡°Evil is subjective, dear,¡± she said. ¡°Some souls are worth cannibalizing. I can think of a few.¡± Momo stared at her, not budging. ¡°I don¡¯t want it.¡± ¡°What the system gives, it can unfortunately not take away,¡± Valerica said, giving her a sad smile. ¡°But by all means, don¡¯t make use of it. I told Azrael that you¡¯d have no interest, but he was quite insistent. This is for Momo, he repeated to me, droned on and on. Your hands only, he insisted. I can only dream of why he was so unremitting.¡± That took Momo aback. She had only heard the Necroknight mentioned sparingly, and had certainly never met the guy. Well, she had met one of his corpses, but that¡¯s not quite the same, is it? ¡°Azrael knows about me?¡± Valerica laughed. ¡°Of course he does, darling. You¡¯re one of my favorite hobby projects, after all. My protege. I bring you up incessantly. As such, he¡¯s taken quite an interest in you himself. He very rarely gives out skill books, so this is something of an irregularity. I would think things over before writing the skill off entirely.¡± Momo shook her head affirmatively, but she still had a bad taste in her mouth about the whole thing. Her experience with high-level necromancers was pretty much net negative. Sera was the necromantic equivalent of a deranged serial killer; Devola was crazy; Viktor Mole was just about the worst mayor a city could ask for. Looking at them as a group, Valerica¡¯s incessant claim that she was the morally superior one didn¡¯t even look that ridiculous. It was almost an abject truth. In the corner of her eye, Momo noticed something she hadn¡¯t seen in hours ¨C the movement of a cloud. It wasn¡¯t gliding around the sky like usual, but it did twitch. The waves, too, moved an inch from their original position. Time was pushing back against its chains. ¡°It seems my spell is running out,¡± Valerica said with a sigh. She dug into her purse and once again revealed the small glass jar with Nyk stored inside. ¡°Before I forget, here¡¯s your new sea companion. After her contract with Sera ended, I put her on a retainer. A quite permanent retainer, if she knows what¡¯s good for her. She¡¯ll help you track down Lione and travel with you to the Nether when time permits.¡± Before Momo could respond, a soft hand came to cup her cheek. Valerica smiled at her warmly, her eyes painted a delicate red, like two ripe cherries. There was something soft and meaningful in her gaze, as if her eyes were whispering this part¡¯s important. ¡°It¡¯s about time I go,¡± she said, matter-of-fact, tucking a loose hair behind Momo¡¯s ear; the follicle promptly disintegrated. ¡°Now, don¡¯t get lost at sea, darling. The waves and the wind can push you in a lot of different directions, but if you have a firm grasp on the wheel, nothing else matters.¡± Valerica stood, without another word, and time released. Wind buffeted her dress like a wild animal; the Nether enveloped her, black blobs of goo wrapping her up until she was no longer recognizable. Within seconds, her black silhouette turned white, and she became one with the mist, just another passing gust of wind. She was gone. 180 – (Holy) Knights At Sea Momo could have never imagined her morning routine to look like it did now ¨C as in, waking up before the sun and meditating below deck on a pirate ship with a hairless feline ¨C but then again, she could have never imagined any of this. Here¡¯s how it went down: she woke up at 6am sharp, brushed her teeth with a toothpick, some straw, and a sliver of Barium sea-salt soap Sumire had gifted her. She donned her Tricorn, fit it snugly over her brittle white hair (using the toothpaste-soap as a shampoo wasn¡¯t doing her hair texture any favors) and then summoned Dusk to her captain¡¯s chambers. The oncilla took naturally to [Bone Meditation]. Dusk naturally spent most of her time sleeping and purring, so sleeping and purring with the added bonus of a stat boost was no issue. Every day, Momo would put 10 points into Charisma for herself, in order to better instruct the ever-fluctuating emotions of the child-based crew, and 10 points into Dexterity for Dusk, who was serving as lookout on the ship¡¯s bow. All of this meditation and training culminated in a level up for Dusk, who had been deprived of experience for quite a while. Previous to the voyage, Momo had been keeping the cat mostly on the sidelines, either carrying her in the bloody backpack, her skull bobbing about like a feline bobblehead, or having her scout the roads for any traps set by the Holy Resistance. The level up came with a new skill, [Hunt the Trail], which allowed the cat to sniff out prey like a bloodhound. ¡°Don¡¯t use this on anything without my permission,¡± Momo immediately informed the cat after receiving the skill notification. ¡°Having piles and piles of dead mice sitting around the deck is not good for the childrens¡¯ morale.¡± ¡°Meow,¡± Dusk begrudgingly obliged. As it turned out, [Hunt the Trail] was useful for more than hunting mice. As the Revenge was gliding along the waves mid-afternoon, Momo heard Dusk¡¯s signature Alert Meow sound from the lookout point. The cat bounded off the nets and onto the deck, her tail whipping back and forth nervously. ¡°What is it, girl?¡± Momo said, squatting down to scratch the cat under the chin. Dusk jutted her head towards the port side of the ship. Her tail went rigid. It didn¡¯t take long to know why. From out of the mist, appearing like the headlights of a car flashing on a dark highway, was a large vessel. A ship, about half the size of the Revenge, painted bright yellow and purple. About a dozen crew were rapidly adjusting the sail, cranking hard as the boat keeled at a nearly right angle. Another half a dozen were swinging grappling hooks above their heads. Momo tensed. The ship¡¯s colors were striking and unmistakable; they were the colors of Kyros. The pirates with the grappling hooks weren¡¯t dressed in leather cuirasses, but suits of heavy armor. These were Jarva¡¯s men. Knights masquerading as seafarers. The crew that was actually managing the ropes looked like a ragtag group of hired ¨C or more likely politely coerced ¨C civilians. These weren¡¯t pirates, these were political ambushers. ¡°Enemy sighted on the starboard side!¡± Ribeye roared, pounding on his chest as the grappling hooks soared across the water; the ropes twisted around the bow of the Revenge, and the enemy crew began to rapidly pull towards their ship, steering straight into their side. There was nothing Momo could do to evade them, their approach was too fast. They collided with the Revenge in a shuddering thump, sending Momo¡¯s less dexterous crew ¨C namely, all of the children ¨C flying off their feet. ¡°Take the wheel, Gita!¡± Momo shouted. The orc maiden obliged, and Momo used [Death Monkey Leap] to fly to the deck, joining Ribeye and a hundred disorderly child sailors. Hearing the chaos, Kami, Kasula, and Grimli all burst out from the lower cabins. Vivienne and Nyk, who was still in her pixie jar that Momo was too afraid to open, remained below. As the Revenge¡¯s crew recovered from the impact, six knights clamored aboard the ship. Four of them looked like regular Holy Knights, outfitted in their usual sheenless, Sir Lancelot-style golden plate armor. Despite appearances, the men looked confused and nervous, out of place under all that heavy garb ¨C it was too big around the shoulders, pinching at the waist. From what Momo could recall, Jarva had abandoned all of the actual Holy Knights back in Alois. These sorry lads had to be his replacement troupes: untrained, naive Kyros fanatics shoved into suits and set adrift. It was the two knights in the center that made Momo sweat a little. They were bigger than the rest of the men by three feet at the very least, wearing bright purple regalia. They had six foot long halberds strapped to their backs, which to Momo seemed completely impractical for melee combat on an undulating sea vessel, but were nonetheless menacing as hell to look at. The purple knight on the left stepped forward and banged twice on his steel chest, like an ape giving a greeting to a rival gang of chimpanzees. ¡°My name is Gorim von Haus Aloysius, the eigth and final member of the Circle of the Sun. You have been boarded by vessels of His Majesty King Jarva,¡± he bellowed, pointing his sharpened halberd straight forward. ¡°Surrender now, or face the wrath of Jarva¡¯s utmost protectors ¨C the physical manifestation of his many outstretched, all-seeing tentacles.¡± After a few uncomfortable seconds, Gorim then looked expectantly at his counterpart, who had seemingly forgotten to speak. ¡°Oh ¨C and uh ¨C I¡¯m Cyllindrel von Haus Cylinder, fourth member of the Circle,¡± the other purple knight said quickly, his voice and spear both wobbly; they clearly hadn¡¯t rehearsed this entrance well enough. ¡°And yeah, what Gorim said. Please surrender.¡± Gorim¡¯s words pinged something in the back of Momo¡¯s mind. The Circle of the Sun ¨C those were Jarva¡¯s Excaliburs. Are these more Holy Resistance dupes, or are they actually the real thing? Given that Momo had unmasked pretty much every member of that sham resistance, it seemed unlikely that they¡¯d try this trick again. But it was hard to say for sure. The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°Oh, shove off,¡± Ribeye said, spitting at them before Momo could say anything. He moved his hand upward, and six shimmering, cylindrical portals appeared behind and in front of each Holy Knight in an alternating sequence. With a grunt, Ribeye kicked one of the scrawny ones directly in the torso, and the knight shot through the portal behind him, exiting out the portal in front of his comrade, and sending each knight throttling at the next like a series of metal-clad dominos caught in a wind tunnel. This continuous barrage of screaming paladins ended at Gorim, who was undisturbed by the four other knights barreling into him like an accidental battering ram. They bounced off his armor like flies, their bodies flinging onto the ship¡¯s deck in groaning heaps. So that¡¯s Mist magic, Momo thought, blinking rapidly as the portals shuttered. ¡°You big metal lumps of lilac,¡± Ribeye muttered, pointing an accusatory finger at the pair of Excaliburs. ¡°A little portal magic didn¡¯t knock you off my ship? Fine. The next attack won¡¯t be so gentle. I¡¯ll give you ten seconds to belly flop back onto that puny vessel of yours, or I¡¯ll send you praying to the mist wraiths.¡± Gorim scoffed. Without another word, he lunged forward towards Ribeye, traveling at an astonishing speed despite the heaviness of his armor. It was like watching a ray of golden light dance along the deck boards. Still, somehow, he missed, his halberd slicing down into the space between the orc and Kami. ¡°So much for those Excalibur reflexes,¡± Ribeye chuckled. ¡°Bunch of shiny idiots ¨C¡± ¡°Ribeye, watch out!¡± Kami yelled. The dual blades at the end of the halberd suddenly expanded, tripling in length and stretching out in both directions like a pair of katanas. While Kami¡¯s elevated Dexterity allowed him to see the move coming, the blade shot out faster than Ribeye could dodge it, and it buried itself in his side. The orc moaned in pain, stumbling backwards. The blade retracted again, exiting the wound quickly and cleanly. Blood rushed out of the orc¡¯s leather cuirass. ¡°You bastards, I, I ¨C¡± he stuttered, his large hand clasping over his side. ¡°Damn it all. [Phantom].¡± The orc disappeared, fading into nonexistence before Momo¡¯s very eyes. It was another act of Mist magic. The same variety of magic that Momo saw that mouse guy use on Eji back during the Death Row arena tournament. Taking from her experience back then, she knew that Ribeye hadn¡¯t teleported anywhere ¨C he had simply mirrored the air around himself like a water vapor chameleon. ¡°Orcs,¡± Gorim said, voice laden with disdain. ¡°Always bowing out just when the fight¡¯s begun.¡± ¡°Shut up.¡± Momo didn¡¯t know what came over her. The words fell out of her mouth like boiling water over the lid of a pot. Her Nether-painted hands curled into fists. This was her ship. Okay, not really. It was a stolen pirate ship owned by some guy named Mandrake. But she had made this vessel her own, this crew her own, one hour of child labor at a time. ¡°Oh, and who are you?¡± Gorim laughed. ¡°The captain¡¯s malnourished daughter?¡± Kami and Kasula looked poised to retaliate, but Momo threw up a hand at them to pause. If this knight didn¡¯t know who she was, that meant that Jarva still had no idea she had abandoned her post in Morganium. That was good. As much as she wanted to send this overinflated piece of metal off the gangplank, it was more important that they got information out of him first. ¡°No,¡± she said, putting her hands on her hips as she stood across from him. ¡°I¡¯m no one¡¯s malnourished daughter. I am the captain. Captain Coco of Mandrake¡¯s Revenge. And I have a zero tolerance policy for anyone trespassing on my ship and stabbing my crew.¡± A weird, gauzy look fell over his eyes. The extra Charisma points from [Bone Meditation] must be working. Usually it was impossible for anyone to take her seriously, but the moment she opened her mouth, his puffy overconfident stance deflated like a balloon. He still didn¡¯t look as unsure of himself as Cyllindrel, who was busy playing with his thumbs in the corner, but she had certainly taken him down a notch. ¡°Captain Coco,¡± he muttered to himself. ¡°Never heard that name before. Are you registered with the Kingdom¡¯s Registry of Legalized Piracy?¡± ¡°Of course I am,¡± Momo lied. That¡¯s a thing? ¡°And I¡¯m currently in the middle of transporting a very critical shipment. Something King Jarva would be very, very sad to go without. What business do you have stumbling onto my ship and shoving your halberd into our perfectly legal enterprise?¡± The knight¡¯s shoulders drooped even further, his eyes clouding with self-doubt. It was about time I put [Doubletimer] to use. The skill gave her a 50% boost to all persuasion attempts against enemies she was trying to deceive. She didn¡¯t love the circumstances in which she was awarded the ability ¨C compulsively lying to all of her friends until the System registered it as a behavior pattern ¨C but it turned out to be a very useful skill in the right situations. ¡°I don¡¯t know about upstanding,¡± he grumbled. From behind Momo, Ribeye materialized again. He had bandaged up his side, but his hands were still painted red with blood. ¡°If you don¡¯t get out of the way right now, I¡¯m going to tear through the both of you,¡± Ribeye said to Momo, churning his teeth. ¡°This Kyroshead thinks he can pinch my side and survive it¡­¡± ¡°Down boy,¡± Kasula said, placing a hand on the orc¡¯s shoulder. A faint light radiated from it, and Ribeye¡¯s rabid fury dulled. Momo deduced that it had to be some sort of pacifying spell. She gave Kasula a grateful half-smile. ¡°Let¡¯s let the captain figure this one out before we get all murderous. This is probably just some big understanding.¡± ¡°Fine,¡± Ribeye grunted, but his eyes never left Gorim¡¯s face. Sufficiently sure that Ribeye wouldn¡¯t try to skewer the pair of them like kebab, Momo turned back to the knight. ¡°Enough questions for me. I have a question for you,¡± she said bravely. The extra Charisma was kind of going to her head. Is this how naturally extroverted people feel all the time? ¡°Is it common for Jarva¡¯s most prestigious force of protectors to randomly plunder registered pirate ships? Because it feels like a huge waste of resources. Not to mention stupid.¡± Gorim scowled, his jaw clenching. ¡°Of course not,¡± he spat. ¡°We only came aboard your ship because we thought you were unregistered sea scavengers. Sailing without a pirating license is a high crime, as I¡¯m sure you¡¯re familiar. But it turns out you scum are just the regular kind. Not worth our time. We have more pressing matters at play. Cyllindrel and I have been tasked on a special, confidential mission. A mission that requires only Jarva¡¯s best.¡± Momo¡¯s [White Lie Detector] pinged. But why would he be lying? She silently cast [Silent Mindreader] on him. The knight¡¯s thoughts streamed into her head easily. He obviously didn¡¯t have any mental fortifications against Con Artist skills. His Greatness obviously seeks to punish me. There is no other reason for why he would send me on a mission with that buffoon, Gorim thought, his eyes drifting towards Cyllindrel, who was breathing heavily after being scared by his own reflection in the water. Such reconnaissance missions like this could have been performed by any lesser knight. We already know that little necromancer girl will soon be out of the picture, and the recapturing of the capital will go flawlessly ¨C it has been foretold by Kyros himself. The prophecy is irrevocable. Momo froze, her eyes widening. Necromancer girl? Does he mean me? His voice replayed in her head several times over, the thought looping like a broken vinyl. The recapturing of the capital. Her capital. 181 – Gaslight, Gatekeep, Daydream So, to recap ¨C Both Sera, a crazy, power-hungry lesser goddess, and Jarva, Kyros¡¯s personal meat puppet, had an eye on Momo¡¯s throne room. Both also had the means to take it. And where was Momo, you might ask? Floating on a glorified piece of plywood towards a desert. Momo gritted her teeth. This was not good. Still, she had little choice. The ticking time bomb that was the death box in her pocket needed to be dealt with, or it wouldn¡¯t matter whose monarch was sitting pretty on Morganium¡¯s throne. Staring straight into Gorim¡¯s beady eyes, Momo weighed her options. While she could do very little to ward off Sera¡¯s rebels, the legendary [Great Wall of Nether] perk on Morganium would hopefully be enough to create trouble for Jarva¡¯s troops. The enchantment allegedly rebuffed all Holy attacks, so all of the Holy Knight¡¯s pretty little light beams and solar death rays wouldn¡¯t do much good there. But if Gorim¡¯s reconnaissance mission was a success, and they found out about the wall ahead of time, they could plan around it. Compel some non-Holy sorcerers to destroy the enchantment and let the Circle of the Sun troops pass freely into Morganium. That¡¯d be a disaster. Momo couldn¡¯t let that happen. Not to her capital, but way more importantly ¨C not to Sumire. Biting down on her lip, she outstretched her open palm towards Gorim. The knight gave her a quizzical look. ¡°What in the heavens are you doing?¡± he said, gripping his halberd. ¡°Probably something stupid,¡± Momo said. ¡°[Maladaptive Daydreams II]!¡± ¡ª The upgraded edition of [Maladaptive Daydreams] didn¡¯t work in the way Momo expected. She wasn¡¯t sure what she expected, but the reality was a lot more¡­ unpleasant¡­ than her imagination. In order to shape the narrative of the nightmare, Momo was mentally transported inside of the victim¡¯s mind. What he saw, she saw; by simply imagining what she wanted him to visualize next, it would appear inside his dreams as if cast there by magic. While Kami, Kasula and Ribeye worked to subdue Cyllindrel, which turned out to be a lot like convincing a golden retriever puppy to get into a crate, Momo closed her eyes and focused on the vision. Her plan was to convince him he¡¯d already been to Morganium; by showing him her own version of events, she could send him back on his way home with a completely falsified memory. It was a beautiful plan, in theory. Not so much in practice. In practice, Momo kept scaring herself every time she visualized a new thing. ¡°Agh!¡± both Momo and Gorim screamed synchronously. Momo had accidentally visualized the giant spider she found crawling around the ship¡¯s shower the previous night. It had been a hairy, red-legged thing called a fire tarantula that Momo had forced Kasula to kill ten times over ¨C not for any sadistic reason, but because the spider quite literally kept getting back up, even after the elf repeatedly stomped it hard with her heel. ¡°You good?¡± Kasula yelled from somewhere further down the deck. Her voice was accompanied by the muffled groans and screams of Cyllindrel, who had been blindfolded, gagged, and had his head covered with a wooden bucket. Momo wasn¡¯t sure what the point of the bucket was. ¡°I¡¯m great!¡± Momo squeaked, her vision once again returning to the dream ¨C and to the giant beady eyes of the oversized tarantula. ¡°No problems here. Just a big, angry spider that I summoned with my brain. Magic is so fun.¡± After taking a few shallow breaths in, Momo cast [Focus]. It allowed her to hone in singularly on the nightmare, pushing away reality and taking the reins on the narrative. She dismissed the spider and sculpted a replica of Morganium, with a few minor changes: she halved the size of the undead army inhabiting it, set fire to a few buildings, gave it zero barricades or fortifications, and made the residents poor, hungry, and restless. By all accounts, she basically made it look like Viktor Mole City, but with fewer chickens. ¡°By Kyros,¡± Gorim mumbled, his pupils completely dilated. ¡°They¡¯re defenseless.¡± Momo blew out a breath of relief, taking his reaction as a good sign. She concluded the nightmare by showing him a preview of the future, a vision of Gorim himself; in the dream, he took the capital all on his own. No other pesky Excaliburs or extraneous lesser troops required. He used his prowess to take down the petty undead, secure the throne, and went back to the kingdom of Jarva a hero, receiving every honor he had ever dreamed of. Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. Gorim smiled mopily, and Momo left him like that, paralyzed in his ego-fueled dream. A plan was forming in her mind. A stupid one, half-baked and probably riddled with holes, but a plan nonetheless. Something that could tie all of her loose ends together; a way to make her problems take care of each other, instead of piling up on her doorstep. At the last minute, she added another element to the vision ¨C a face. Nia¡¯s face. She was the necromancer Gorim was crushing under his foot. It made Momo wince to visualize, her stomach twisting uncomfortably. She didn¡¯t exactly like Nia, but she didn¡¯t want to see the woman¡¯s neck cracking under some guy¡¯s heel, either. But it was necessary evil. It was the first step. God, necessary evil? Who am I becoming, Valerica? Momo thought miserably as she watched the imaginary scene play out in front of her. It scared her just how enured she¡¯d become to the violence, even if it was all just pretend. ¡°Die, necromancer scum,¡± Gorim said, grinning madly as he absorbed Momo¡¯s vision. His eyes had gone hazy red with gluttony. ¡°Oh, I can¡¯t wait to see their miserable faces when I crush that sniveling twerp like a worm. They¡¯ll all be sorry when he finally chooses me. Not Kristof, not Farrah, not that idiot Cylindrel. Me. Only me.¡± Momo shook her head. People and their egos. She walked over to him, shut his eyelids, and punched him straight in the throat. ¡ª ¡°Owww.¡± ¡°Serves you right for punching an Excalibur knight,¡± Ribeye scolded as he rolled the bandage another time over Momo¡¯s knuckles. ¡°What were you even thinking? What¡¯s your Strength score exactly? A two? Trying to knuckle one of those brutes at your size is like punching a slab of stone. Just plain stupid.¡± ¡°I was just trying to knock him unconscious,¡± Momo mumbled. ¡°Like they do in the movies.¡± ¡°The what?¡± ¡°Nevermind.¡± While she hadn¡¯t been able to knock Gorim unconscious, the spell had naturally left him in a daze. Kami took care of the rest. The lemur gave him a sedative, Ribeye drew some crude drawings on his face with a quill, and then the group of them joined together to push the hulking heap of metal back onto his boat. After that, Momo performed the same spell on Cyllindrel, and they unfurled the grappling hooks connecting the two ships. ¡°Push!¡± Ribeye bellowed, directing the children to shove against the knights¡¯ vessel. With their combined but determined power, the yellow and purple ship set afloat once again, its sails whipping wildly in the wind. The six unconscious bodies strewn amongst its wet wood made it look a lot like a Viking Funeral. ¡°What sad sacks,¡± Kasula laughed. ¡°Jarva¡¯s best men. Right.¡± ¡°Putting a bucket over that cylindrical fellow did feel a bit like bullying an infant,¡± Kami said, taking a puff of his pipe. ¡°But on all accounts we got lucky. We caught them in the right circumstance. The Knights of the Sun aren¡¯t nearly as powerful on an overcast day like today.¡± ¡°Wait, huh?¡± Momo piped up, watching as the ship disappeared into the mist. She could see the faint silhouette of the civilian deckhands clambering over the knights¡¯ unconscious bodies. ¡°Are they solar-powered or something?¡± She meant it as a joke, but Kami looked at her gravely, as if to say, obviously. ¡°Not or something, that¡¯s exactly what they are,¡± Kami said with a nod. ¡°The brighter the sunlight, the higher their Strength stat. These guys clearly didn¡¯t expect a formidable enemy, so they didn¡¯t use any of their weather clearing skills. If they had known who we actually were, this could have gone very differently.¡± ¡°Oh¡­¡± Momo said, looking down at her bruised knuckles. The pain of punching him ¨C well, attempting to punch him ¨C was still radiating up her arm and into her shoulder. If that was how the knights were at their weakest, she did not want to see them on a sunny day. Oh well. There were always ways to block out the sun. Umbrellas, clouds. She¡¯d just have to tell Sumire to hire a bunch of water mages. They were going to have to turn the capital into Seattle, Washington if they wanted to keep their advantage. Luckily, the undead didn¡¯t mind working through a few rainy days. Actually, going broader, they didn¡¯t mind anything. They were literally mindless skeletons. Although it might be a good idea to buy them rain jackets, Momo thought. What if their bones start rotting and the capital starts smelling like a muddy graveyard? Ew. ¡ª ¡°[Summon Familiar - Vicar]¡± As she sat atop the ship¡¯s crow¡¯s nest, the undead raven materialized on Momo¡¯s outstretched forearm. The Scepter of Ruin was propped up next to her, dusty and covered in cobwebs. She luckily had the foresight to stuff it in her backpack before she left Morganium, but it hadn¡¯t seen much use on the campaign trail. With so many undead at her disposal these days, she had forgotten about the talking raven entirely. Not that I¡¯d ever tell him that, she thought, swallowing. I¡¯m sure he didn¡¯t notice. Now fully formed on her wrist, the raven squawked, coughed, and spit out a hairball. ¡°By Morgana, that backpack is filthy,¡± Vicar said in lieu of a greeting. After straightening himself, he turned to Momo and lowered his voice. ¡°Your Majesty. It¡¯s been awhile.¡± Momo winced. He totally noticed. ¡°Vicar,¡± Momo said, laughing nervously. ¡°Nice to see you too. Sorry about the backpack.¡± He huffed, looking towards the sea. The wind buffeted the two or three feathers still sticking to his bones. Momo had the urge to pet him, but she didn¡¯t want to infringe on his personal space. ¡°It¡¯s no issue. I¡¯m quite durable. Now, how may I serve you?¡± he said, his tone still a bit bristly. He was clearly peeved, but his loyalty overshadowed whatever irritation he was feeling. If Momo recalled correctly, the bird had been at the disposal of necromantic rulers for over a thousand years. Being stuffed in a backpack for a few months was probably not the worst thing he¡¯d endured. ¡°I need you to make a delivery. The carrier pigeons are out of service, and I don¡¯t know if I can trust the system these days. You never know who¡¯s watching, you know?¡± Vicar eyed her oddly, but made no comment. Momo slipped a piece of paper out of her satchel. It was a handwritten letter. The writing was awfully sloppy ¨C it was hard to dot your i¡¯s when you¡¯re sitting on a moving sea vessel ¨C but it still made her heart flutter to read it back. She tucked it in an envelope, and filled out the to and from sections. For my favorite pirate, she wrote, smiling stupidly. From your favorite sea captain. She handed the letter to the raven, and he took off into the rain. 182 – The Meaning of Life The remainder of the trip to the Vagrant Dunes was as simple as seafaring could be. A couple of pirates ¨C oh, sorry, sea scavengers ¡ª attempted to board and pillage them, but Momo was able to scare them off with enough spirited arm-waving and the [Yar Har Har] spell from her tricorn. Unfortunately, minor misstep, she forgot to warn the crew the first time she used the skill. Several of the children were left temporarily deaf for several days, causing Gita to chase Momo around the deck with a spatula for an hour. ¡°Why does it look like someone branded you with a cooking utensil?¡± Kasula asked when Momo strolled into her cabin later that night, a habit which had become routine for them. Of all the people on the ship, Momo found the elf the easiest to talk to. Of course, on a ship containing a pickpocketing lemur, a perpetually angry orc, and a bard that had the vocal chords of someone recovering from tonsil surgery, that wasn¡¯t saying much. As Momo explained the ordeal that led to the spatula-shaped burn mark on her arm, a gleeful, utterly amused smile grew on Kasula¡¯s face. ¡°Don¡¯t look so happy about it,¡± Momo grumbled. ¡°It hurts really bad.¡± ¡°Sure it does,¡± Kasula said, giggling. ¡°I like it, though. Maybe consider getting it tattooed?¡± Momo glared at her. ¡°Fine. Be that way,¡± Kasula said, turning away from Momo to grab something off the shelf. The room was dark and dusky, the single porthole off the side wall letting in only a sliver of moonlight. Kasula¡¯s three wax candles helped the situation, painting faint stripes of shivering yellow over the elf¡¯s face. Momo¡¯s hands curled around her chair¡¯s armrests. She felt suddenly, unexplainably nervous. Despite visiting with Kasula almost everyday, Momo rarely paused to really look at her. The moonlight did something to bring out the elf¡¯s stark features: highlighted the jagged ridge of her nose, played along the rocky curves of her mouth. Momo had never really had a chance to study the woman, but seeing her like this, she could understand why she had been recruited for that elf fashion magazine. She was striking. ¡°Quit staring,¡± Kasula teased, giving Momo a sly smile. ¡°Unless you¡¯re prepared to do something about it.¡± Blatantly caught, Momo gripped the chair so hard her knuckles turned white. ¡°I ¨C sorry. Was just daydreaming,¡± Momo lied. ¡°Lots on my mind.¡± ¡°Lots on mine, too,¡± Kasula said, raising an eyebrow playfully. Seeing Momo turn even paler, she opted for mercy. ¡°Relax, Coco. Honestly, I¡¯m just flattered. Traveling with the lot I travel with, doing the work I do¡­ I don¡¯t feel pretty too often anymore. It¡¯s nice to be appreciated.¡± Momo froze, all of her embarrassment immediately being channeled into disbelief. Kasula sat back down in the chair and studied her nails. The elf was usually the type to fill a silence, but not this time. As superfluous as the admission seemed, it was clearly weighing on her. ¡°What are you even talking about? You¡¯re so pretty,¡± Momo said quietly, and it still felt like a confession. But seeing the way Kasula lit up to hear it, Momo didn¡¯t mind. ¡°Aren¡¯t you a literal former runway model?¡± Kasula chuckled. ¡°Thank you, but Elf La Mode isn¡¯t runway, darling. It¡¯s minor leagues. For an elf woman of my background, being the face of a cover shoot by age sixteen isn¡¯t a feat ¨C it¡¯s an expectation. The fact that I decided to become a Spellsword instead of a professional Paragon is the very reason I ended up here.¡± Momo tilted her head, confused. ¡°A paragon? ¡°Ah, sorry. It¡¯s an elvish concept,¡± Kasula said, then pursed her lips. ¡°Hm. How to explain¡­ exactly how familiar are you with elf society?¡± ¡°I know you guys have pointy ears and live really long lives,¡± Momo said, racking her brain. She had encountered very few elves in Alois, and those that she did encounter tended to keep to themselves. Kasula was a noted exception. ¡°But now that I think of it, I have no idea how long. Like two hundred years?¡± The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Kasula laughed, knocking her knuckles on the table. ¡°Oh, Momo, you¡¯re funny. Try two thousand years. The oldest among us have been here since the beginning of the Class System.¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°Yeah. It¡¯s a blessing and a curse. Literally and figuratively. The goddess Guinevere gave it to our species after the Elder Elf Morsul made a mockery of her. Morsul, the asshat bard that he was, basically held a huge eff-you Guinevere party, then promptly died the next day. Since Morgana oversees the realm of the dead, there was nothing Guinevere could do to punish him in the afterlife. So she settled for punishing every other elf forever. By delaying our deaths, it gives her an unlimited timespan to torture us. Isn¡¯t that nice?¡± ¡°Wow,¡± Momo said, speechless. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ yeah.¡± ¡°Yeah," Kasula said. Her focus turned towards the small, half-cracked mirror hanging on the wall. It presented her with a jagged, imperfect version of her reflection. "So, the question arose amongst our people: what the hell do you do with your life when you never die? Some tried out meditation, a bunch of priestesses swore off mortal possessions and proselytized about reaching inner peace or whatever. But all the elves who signed up for that lifestyle ended up kind of gross ¨C as it goes when you swear off toothbrushes and live in the woods ¨C so elfish society at large eventually settled on a very different path to enlightenment.¡± Kasula then looked to Momo, expecting her to put the pieces together. ¡°...Drugs?¡± Momo guessed, not confident in the least. Kasula laughed again. ¡°No. Gods, no. You¡¯re thinking of the draguls. No, after living for hundreds of years, sizing up reality and life for all that it is, the elves realized that what mattered most wasn¡¯t who you are or what you cared about ¨C what mattered most was clothes. Aesthetics. Life lasts forever, but beauty. That is fleeting. So the Elder Elves invented what we call the Paragons. At the very top of the Paragons are the Beau Id¨¦al. Supermodels, in your vernacular. But way more murdery.¡± Momo stared at her in disbelief. For all the times she had pondered the meaning of life, she would have never guessed that the answer was the Met Gala. ¡°So your society is led by¡­ fashion influencers?¡± she asked, feeling the need to clarify. ¡°Yeah,¡± Kasula said, shrugging. ¡°Starting to understand why I left?¡± ¡ª As they neared the coast of the Vagrant Dunes, the mist turned from muggy vapor to thick, impenetrable clouds of dust. Kami had warned her of this. It was something called the Sand Cyclone, a protective shell around the port city of Karahtan, capital of the Vagrant Dunes. The sand storm wasn¡¯t powerful enough to rip into the ship, but it was incredibly blinding. The children had to start wearing blindfolds as they worked the sails. All the children except for Roggy, the appointed lookout. He had a pair of magical binoculars gifted to him by his thief father. They didn¡¯t let him see much, but Kami assured her that they''d come in handy once they got close. So Momo let him sit at the lookout point with Dusk, just as long as he didn¡¯t mind the cat¡¯s permanent undead stench. ¡°I spy something with my little eye,¡± Roggy said, peering through his mini-binoculars. ¡°And it¡¯s full a¡¯ rocks, sand, and¡­ dead bodies?¡± Momo, who had been busy feeding Dusk her daily allotment of rotting tuna, looked up towards the child. She could barely see his silhouette through the overwhelming dust. ¡°Are you serious?¡± she asked. ¡°Can you hand me those?¡± ¡°But these are my binoculars. Daddy bought ¡®em for me.¡± Bought is one way to phrase looting some royal¡¯s vaults, she thought. ¡°I promise you can have them back after,¡± Momo said, making a gimme gesture with her hand. ¡°Pinky promise?¡± ¡°Full-hand promise,¡± Momo said. Roggy looked suspicious, but after a firm handshake, he handed them over. As she laid the spectacles over her face, Momo¡¯s mouth fell open. The binoculars revealed a bare, sandy coastline just a few miles off. It looked nothing like the capital that Momo had been envisioning ¨C something with tall, imposing structures made of sand and adobe. Instead, she was looking at a quaint desert hamlet, with shallow, rotting buildings badly in need of repair. Sitting below the buildings were bodies. Dozens of them. Lifeless and unmoving. ¡°Goddamnit, Ribeye,¡± Momo groaned. ¡ª ¡°This is not Karahtan,¡± Ribeye remarked as they docked onto the shore. The children stayed aboard with Gita, while the rest of the crew, Vivienne included, disembarked onto the sandy coastline. The sand was hot like lava, the sun bathing everything in sight like a severe spotlight. ¡°No shit it¡¯s not Karahtan,¡± Kasula said, rolling her eyes. ¡°This is¡­ I don¡¯t even know where this is. Kami, what does your map say?¡± The lemur unfurled his scroll and sniffed. After a few long seconds, he cleared his throat. ¡°I have¡­ not the faintest clue.¡± ¡°Great,¡± Momo mumbled. She turned to glare at Ribeye. ¡°But I thought we were on course?¡± ¡°We were,¡± Ribeye grunted. ¡°But we must have slipped up right at the end. Blasted cyclone messed with our measurements.¡± Vivienne, who had remained as silent as a sleeping rabbit throughout the entire voyage, pushed past them and towards the village. She stopped when she reached the first body, the paralyzed corpse of a middle-aged butcher. She kneeled, removed the cleaver protruding from his chest, and dragged her thumb across the surface of it. She sighed. ¡°I know where we are.¡± 183 – The Cult of… Sera? Vivienne led them through the settlement like a morbid tour guide. She knew the name of every single corpse sprawled around the soil as if they were all her distant relatives, recalling their professions, their children and their children¡¯s children, their illicit affairs and late-night necromancy. If it weren¡¯t for the ever-present stench of death, Momo would have considered it a cozy tour through an old, dusty city. ¡°This one¡¯s name was Hobert,¡± Vivienne said, squatting by the body of a man with intricate drawings running up his arms. Despite the fact that he seemed intensely dead, his face was bright and dewy, his cheeks flushed. As with all the other bodies that Vivienne had introduced them to, there were no signs of rot or decay. They all looked like they had just woken up from a sweaty afternoon nap. ¡°Alright, lass, enough of this,¡± Ribeye said. ¡°What¡¯s the deal with you and this place?¡± ¡°Yeah, as much as I hate to say it, I¡¯m with the big guy. I¡¯m getting serious serial killer confession vibes from this whole thing,¡± Kasula added. Vivienne gave her an affronted look. ¡°No offense.¡± The former knight folded her arms defensively. ¡°Offense taken,¡± she started, looking towards the ground. ¡°It¡¯s difficult for me to talk about.¡± Momo itched to cast [Silent Mindreader], but ultimately thought better of it. She¡¯d feel bad to use it on someone she knew personally. That felt like crossing a boundary, even if it was probably the smart thing to do. So she waited patiently instead, watching as Vivienne carefully contemplated her next words. ¡°This is where Sera first started her cult,¡± she finally admitted. ¡°It also served as the first testing grounds for her¡­ projects.¡± ¡°Here? In the Vagrant Dunes?¡± Momo asked, disbelieving. She always figured Sera was an Aloysius native. Not that she was ever particularly patriotic about anything other than herself. ¡°Yes, here,¡± Vivienne said. She looked viscerally uncomfortable to admit it. ¡°These people used to all be members. Myself and Nia included, although we scraped by with our lives intact. Our ship landing here was no accident. Sera put an incantation on this place a long time ago, a spell that urges the wind to blow boats heading towards the capital subtly off-course. It¡¯s how she began to build her first undead army. She had an endless supply of wayward pirates to pick from.¡± Vivienne¡¯s description sent a chill down Momo¡¯s spine. It was hard to conceive just how many victims that woman had taken in her prime. Ribeye leaned down and poked Hobert¡¯s cheek. ¡°It doesn¡¯t add up,¡± the orc said, pinching the man¡¯s face. ¡°There¡¯s still blood coursing through this man¡¯s veins. His eyes are wide open, mouth agape, teeth white and shiny. Even his cheeks are flushed.¡± He slapped the man hard across the face in an attempt to wake him, but got no response. The silence was deafening and awkward, and Momo shifted uncomfortably on her heels. ¡°I assure you he¡¯s very dead,¡± Vivienne said, glaring at the orc until he stopped his poking and prodding. ¡°It was one of the first spells Sera ever created. [Mummification]. It effectively freezes you as you are at the time of death, so your body never decays. She created it so she could raise undead followers that still looked like normal people. Easier to trick the local guardsmen that you¡¯re not practicing necromancy if all your thralls just look like neighborhood guys named Joe.¡± ¡°That¡¯s terrifying,¡± Momo whispered under her breath. That explained the zombies that Momo found loitering around Lione¡¯s courtyard back in Bruda. She hadn¡¯t seen anything like it since: undead that hovered in that awkward, uncanny phase between life and rigor mortis. Her stomach turned, bubbling with nausea at the memory. The more Momo learned about Sera, the more she wanted to dig a deep, dark hole, crawl into it, and hide there for the next three years. I¡¯m sure Valerica will have this whole thing solved by then, she thought, lying to herself. It wasn''t in Valerica''s nature to solve problems that she could shaft onto Momo''s plate. ¡°But why would she do this to her own cultists?¡± Kasula interjected. Vivienne grimaced, her mouth tightening into a sharp line. Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. ¡°I don¡¯t want to talk about it,¡± she said. Before the nosy group could bother her with any further questions, the former knight stalked off towards an abandoned house, leaving them all to stare at the red, glowing impression of Ribeye¡¯s hand left on Hobert¡¯s cheek. ¡ª ¡°I don¡¯t like ¡®er,¡± Ribeye said, rolling a six-sided die onto the table. Night had fallen, and they were back on the ship, in the lower cabins. Him and Kasula were playing some card game Momo had never heard of, and Grimli was cursing to himself in the corner as he fiddled with Vivienne¡¯s lended bracelet. ¡°I think she¡¯s fun,¡± Kasula said, placing a card on the table. It was a Jester. This was displeasing to Ribeye for reasons Momo could not discern. The orc groaned and threw another die. ¡°I can relate to someone who''s outrunning their past. So she doesn¡¯t want to share all her pretty little traumatic memories with us, can you really blame a girl?¡± ¡°Yes. Yes I can,¡± Ribeye said gruffly. Kasula laid another card down. He growled at it, thumping his fist so hard on the table that the cards and dice flew right off of it, dribbling on the floor before getting lost to the cabin¡¯s many nooks and crannies. Kasula sighed. ¡°It¡¯s impossible to gamble with this guy,¡± she said. ¡°It¡¯s impossible to gamble with a cheater,¡± he said, glaring at her. Without waiting for a response, he angrily stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Kasula just laughed. She turned the card around, and Momo saw it flicker in the light. The appearance of the Jester changed to a Queen. It wasn¡¯t magic ¨C it was just some kind of physical trick. A cheat card. Momo rose an eyebrow at her, surprised. ¡°You must think me naughty,¡± Kasula said with a grin. ¡°You¡¯d be right. But I just can¡¯t help myself. I love getting a rise out of him.¡± Momo shook her head. ¡°That seems like a bad i¨C¡± ¡°Oh this stupid piece of metal gra¡¯v¡¯da!¡± Grimli shouted, throwing Vivienne¡¯s bracelet to the ground. His chest rose and fell dramatically, and he wiped a stream of sweat from his brow. Momo and Kasula stared at him, bewildered, until he registered their presence. ¡°Um, you good?¡± Kasula asked. ¡°Oh, your highness, please excuse my outburst,¡± Grimli said, his cheeks reddening as he ignored the elf and stared straight at Momo. ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ this contraption. It¡¯s like nothing else I¡¯ve ever worked on. I fear it will require a genuine dwarven engineer to recalibrate, and I¡¯m not sure there are any of those left in this part of the world.¡± ¡°Wait, dwarven?¡± Kasula said. ¡°That doesn¡¯t look dwarven to me.¡± The elf rose from her chair, leaned down, and grabbed the bracelet. ¡°I thought it might be a fake you got at some market, but¡­¡± She gave it an inquisitive look, twirling it around her finger. A white light shone from her hand, that same type of effervescent magic that Momo saw her use to calm down Ribeye. In response, tiny clicking noises echoed from inside the device, and small, golden gears and notches began to shift in and out of it. It was like watching the exposed innerworkings of an old fashioned watch. After a few moments, it stilled, clicking into a final position. ¡°There,¡± she said, like it was no work at all. Grimli had gone completely pale. She placed it in Momo¡¯s hand. ¡°Now tell me, dear Grimli, how in the hell did you come across a genuine paragon communication device?¡±
You have acquired a [Catwalk Communicator] A discreet communication device used by paragons to communicate with backstage staff, sponsors, and agents. Signals can be rerouted based on the target¡¯s Nether vibrations. This communicator is property of Elf La Mode and should only be used in official capacities.
Momo received the information through her audio courier, but in a different voice than usual. Gone were the uncanny valley tones of AI Megan Fox, replaced by an ethereal voice that sounded suspiciously like Valerica. It wasn¡¯t quite Valerica ¨C it wasn¡¯t nearly as condescending ¨C but it definitely had her fingerprints on it. Momo supposed it was another of her myriad changes to the system administration functions. I really wonder about this woman¡¯s priorities. ¡°It¡¯s not mine,¡± Grimli said. ¡°It¡¯s Queen Momo¡¯s. Er, well, not quite hers either. She got it off that eerie blonde. But she wanted me to try and reroute the signal to reach her pet lesser goddess.¡± Kasula raised an eyebrow. ¡°You keep pets in high places.¡± ¡°Not a pet,¡± Momo said, cheeks burning. I hope Valerica didn¡¯t hear that. ¡°She¡¯s more like¡­ a mentor. She was originally an Excalibur Necromage, but she got promoted to Lesser Goddess. She lives somewhere in the Nether now. Sera was using this bracelet to communicate with Vivienne, so we know it¡¯s possible for messages to flow between here and there. But there haven¡¯t been any incoming messages since Vivienne left the cult.¡± Kasula hummed. ¡°Using a catwalk communicator to commune with the Nether. That¡¯s¡­ ingenious, really. I don¡¯t know a thing about rerouting the signals on these things, but my older sister does. She¡¯s a paragon. The real deal. She¡¯s also a conniving little shit. Altered her bracelet to let her communicate with her boyfriend over in Aloysius. She made a whole business out of doing the same to the other girls'' bracelets. The entire runway show became a criminal enterprise.¡± Momo got up from her seat, excited. That sounded promising. ¡°Could she help us reroute it? Being able to talk to Valerica on the fly would be really helpful. It might be the only way we¡¯ll be able to predict what Sera will do next.¡± Kasula stilled, then evaded Momo''s gaze. Her shit-eating smile had dulled into something blank and foreboding. ¡°Well, maybe. But no way in hell am I coming with you.¡± 184 – Freeing the Flame ¡°No, Vra¡¯ta! Stop! Baaad dog!¡± Grimli shouted wildly as the recently unpackaged mechanical canine aggressively sniffed each body, his metal nostrils flaring at the stench. ¡°We don¡¯t go shoving our noses down corpses¡¯ throats! That¡¯s very impolite behavior. Not to mention you¡¯re among royalty.¡± The dwarf jutted his thumb towards Momo, who was holding back a laugh. While Ribeye was busy trying to rechart a path towards civilization, Kasula, Grimli and Momo were appointed to the Scary Village Investigation Committee. That meant, in essence, figuring out what the hell happened here. Step one, it seemed, was to let a dog muddy all the evidence. ¡°Ah,¡± Kasula blew out a breath, grinning as she watched Grimli chase Vra¡¯ta around like an escaped circus animal. ¡°Makes me miss Flocke.¡± ¡°Oh yeah,¡± Momo perked up. ¡°What happened to that good boy?¡± ¡°Left him at the camp with a doggysitter,¡± she said sadly. ¡°We determined he would have made the boat capsize, that big old loaf. But I left him with a porkchop supply bigger than the continent of Aloysius, so I know that boy is being spoiled rotten,¡± she grinned. ¡°As he should be.¡± ¡°Vra¡¯ta found something!¡± Grimli tore their attention towards one of the nearby houses. He was holding the mecha-dog back with all his modest strength; the thing was frothing at the mouth, its dry, metallic jowls snapping at the rank air. The house was the same small, ransacked ruin that Vivienne had stormed off towards yesterday. Momo assumed she had chosen any old house to throw a tantrum in ¨C but maybe it was more than coincidence. She and Kasula joined Grimli by the doorway and leaned inside. The walls were exposed pieces of plywood; the floor was a dust-covered mess of rugs, once colorful, but now reduced to a dull, emotionless gray. Paintings with shattered glass frames hung from the walls, amateur portraits of a woman with jet black hair. The woman¡¯s features were jagged and gruesome, like a human cliffside. Something about the portraits struck a chord in Momo. An uncomfortable chord. She had seen ¨C and painted ¨C many portraits in her time, but she had never seen one that seemed to loathe the subject as much as this one did. Every brush stroke seemed to boil over with detestation. Momo walked inside, mindfully stepping over shards of glass, and inspected the picture in full. ¡°Sheesh,¡± Momo said, taking it in. ¡°I would have probably mummified the person who painted me like this.¡± Hearing her own words, alarm bells rang out in Momo¡¯s mind. It¡¯s Sera. Momo had only ever seen the woman bald, so it was weird to see her with such luscious hair dripping down her shoulders. It was long and black and spiky like a crown of snakes. She was also depicted much younger, maybe twenty or twenty two. The rattles of age hadn¡¯t yet woven themselves into the creases of forehead, nor framed the open, grining recess that was her mouth. Momo wouldn¡¯t call her beautiful by any means, but she was definitely eye-catching. In the same way that roadkill was eye-catching. Her intrusive thoughts getting the better of her, Momo reached out and tugged at the painting¡¯s frame. Curiously, only one side gave: the painting opened like a book, one edge peeling away to reveal a shallow indent in the wall behind it. The indent contained two holes ¨C one was the shape of a locket, the other the shape of a bracelet. ¡°Well, that¡¯s disappointing,¡± Momo mumbled. She was expecting something way more interesting than an indent in the wall. She was hoping for a secret spiral staircase, or a magical artifact that would momentarily take over her mind and reveal to her the sorrowful memories of the phantom widow that still haunted the residence. You know, typical haunted house fare. ¡°That looks an awful lot like the bracelet Kami was so desperate to get rid of,¡± Kasula said, startling Momo by materializing over her shoulder. ¡°I forget what it was called ¨C but it was so talkative, kept going on and on about immortality as if I would give a rotting shit about living longer ¨C didn¡¯t you end up with that piece of golden garbage?¡± ¡°The¡­ Bracelet of Blood Immortality?¡± ¡°Yes!¡± Kasula clapped her hands together. ¡°Thank you ¨C yes, that one. So annoying. What¡¯d you end up doing with it? Maybe it belongs here. The thief we stole it from definitely had the Vagrant Dunes look to him. Ridiculously blond hair, freakish height, even for a non-elf.¡± Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. ¡°You stole it from a different thief?¡± ¡°It¡¯s the cycle of life, Momo,¡± Kasula said, giving her a blank, cranky look as she crossed her arms. ¡°Artifacts like that ¨C shiny on the outside, terribly annoying on the inside ¨C rarely stay in one man¡¯s pocket. They tend to travel great distances. Also, I must remind you that you stole it from us. We just let you keep your head along with it.¡± That shut Momo up. Sufficiently convinced, Momo went back to the ship to retrieve both items, the bracelet and the locket, from her backpack. She towed them back to the house, past Grimli and his still-drooling mechanimal, and affixed them into the open holes. To her surprise, they fit like a glove. Red, blistering heat emanated from the objects, and the painting slammed shut. The expression on young Sera¡¯s face turned from a scowl to an even eerier, gaudy smile. Then came the staircase. ¡°Hell yes,¡± Momo whispered, cheering slightly. She knew this place wouldn¡¯t let her down. The splintered floorboards shifted left and right, moaning apart to reveal a large chasm in the middle of the floor. Deeper in the hole, torchlight flared abright. The shimmering light was green, and to Momo¡¯s great dismay, she saw the flickering facade of many faces, mouths agape and eyes wide with madness, trapped behind each flame. She had seen Valerica cast this trick before back at the Dawn ¨C light fixtures powered by trapped souls. Advantage: they never burnt out. Disadvantage: it was a torture worse than death. I¡¯m surprised IKEA hasn¡¯t tried this one yet. Momo descended the stairwell carefully; the steps whined like newborns, the wood in obvious need of repair. She watched as her reflection stared back at her from the myriad flames. She swallowed hard. Sera hadn¡¯t been here in years, and still these souls were busy lighting up her basement. She had probably forgotten about them completely. It was beyond a cruel fate, it was honestly just a stupid one. Momo blinked. She had a dumb idea. ¡°[Eye of the Nether Demon].¡± Even with the new name, the spell worked as expected. And as Momo had suspected, the place was filthy with Nether. It clogged every pore of the basement stairwell, making it hard to see even with the miserable green light. Also as she expected ¨C or rather naively hoped ¨C she could clearly see the soul chains protruding from each torchlight. They were worn down and aged, nothing like Culver¡¯s. These souls had clearly taken a psychological beating. Momo approached one light and peered at the soul trapped inside. Unlike the raw torture Momo saw on the other faces, this one was more¡­ withdrawn. It looked to be a woman, middle-aged, with her chin sitting on her knees. She had her hands drawn up around her legs. She sat in the corner of whatever hellish room she was trapped in, utterly small and defeated. It made Momo¡¯s jaw clench. Momo wrapped her fingers around the soul chain. It stung terribly hot, like sticking your foot in an active furnace, but she stifled the scream in her throat. She knew it was a phantom pain, a mental one. Probably just a sliver of what the souls trapped inside felt every second of everyday. She steeled herself, gripping her teeth and strengthening her grip. Staring at the soul, she began to tug the chain upwards, away. Sera won¡¯t own you anymore. After a full minute of pulling ¨C and letting wet, uninvited tears stream down her face from the searing burn ¨C the chain broke off its holster. It shot out of the torch with an explosive release, wiggling like a landed fish as it breathed in hot, molten freedom, before disintegrating into dust, into the Nether. Momo inhaled and exhaled like a marathon athlete, waving her hands wildly through the air and blowing on her palms. Like a whisper of the wind, a light and feathery thank you caressed Momo¡¯s ears. ¡°Momo? You good?¡± Kasula said, watching the display with equal parts interest and confused pity. ¡°Because you look crazy.¡± ¡°I¡¯mfine,¡± Momo stuttered, jumping up and down to distract herself as the pain dulled. Once it did, she found herself drawn towards the light once more. Her body stilled, goosebumps prickling her arms. The woman was gone. The flame had turned to billowing smoke. Simultaneously, all around her, tormented figures pressed themselves up to the forefront of their torchlights like zoo animals with their faces plastered flat to the glass. They were screaming, begging, yelling, dancing ¨C all manner of evocative behavior, desperate for Momo¡¯s attention. Small, flickering fists pounded against the flames. She couldn¡¯t hear them, but she could imagine what they were demanding. She had just done something they thought impossible. Momo looked down at her hands. They were still hot to the touch, and her head pounded like an abused gong. Freeing them all¡­ would probably kill me, she thought. But I can¡¯t leave them like this. Now that she knew she had the power to end their torment, it felt endlessly selfish to just keep walking down the stairs. To treat them like mindless, battery-powered flashlights. Frowning, Momo asked the courier for her health score, and the audio guide provided her with the convenient but unfortunate truth.
Health Points: 86 / 300
Sighing, she looked to Kasula. ¡°Kas, I need a favor,¡± she said. Kasula raised her eyebrow, curious. ¡°Get me as many health potions as your hands can carry.¡± 185 – The Final Artifact In retrospect, it probably would have been smarter to release all the souls after she had explored the basement. ¡°Ouch,¡± Momo moaned for the tenth time, pain rocketing through her skull as she inadvertently slammed herself into another hard corner of the cavern. As it turned out, the staircase led to a small, very unlit, chamber, with several intersecting stone walls comprising an unwieldy underground maze. At least it felt like a maze. It could have very well been a completely normal room, only Momo had a truly dismal innate sense of direction. ¡°You really couldn¡¯t have waited just ten minutes before freeing all those souls?¡± Kasula groaned, using her hands to feel a path along the jagged walls. ¡°One, you¡¯ve made it impossible to see, and two, it was vaguely traumatic watching you bring yourself to the brink of death and then chug a health potion seven times over.¡± ¡°Those people were suffering, Kasula.¡± ¡°Well now I¡¯m suffering, Momo.¡± Momo rolled her eyes. ¡°Aren¡¯t elves supposed to have [Dark Vision]?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t be ignorant. Those are forest elves,¡± Kasula scoffed, mistakenly shimmying her hip into Momo¡¯s side. They were pressed together like canned sardines, both of their hands fighting for territory in the claustrophobic hallway. ¡°Forest elves, as you may recall, are the inferior branch of our species that decided to swear off possessions and live in the woods like a bunch of common animals. I descend from the people who liked bathing ¨C the high elves.¡± ¡°Sounds a bit racist.¡± Kasula sniffed, mildly incensed. ¡°Don¡¯t get it confused. I think my people are utter fools too. There is no sane race of elves. But if I were to be stuck starving myself as a paragon or dying from my own stench while camping in a tent, I¡¯d choose¡­ neither, actually. That¡¯s why I hightailed it and left. Screw them all.¡± Unwilling to comment on elf politics, Momo bypassed Kasula¡¯s point entirely. ¡°I think I have something that can help with this,¡± she mumbled. ¡°Help with what? The endless, self-inflicted plight of the elf race?¡± ¡°No,¡± Momo said, monotone. ¡°With our vision issues.¡± She had gotten bored one day and decided to actually read the detailed descriptions of her new Dokkaebi skills. As it turned out, her imp form had two implicit traits to it, characteristics the System attached to certain polymorphed forms. One of the traits was called Flame Wielder, or the ability to generate fire at will in the palms of her hands. ¡°Momo? What did you just do?¡± Kasula said with a tone of exhaustion. She looked around blindly, her ears picking up the subtle fluttering of wings. ¡°Did you summon a bird in here?¡± ¡°Nope,¡± Momo said, popping the p as a flame unfurled behind her fingers, illuminating her tiny, devilish face to Kasula. The elf didn¡¯t jump, but she did gawk at her for several long seconds. ¡°You really are full of surprises,¡± she said plainly, then took Momo¡¯s small hand and guided it towards the wall like a flashlight. It illuminated the craggy wall in the shape of a halo, revealing another series of paintings like the ones upstairs. They depicted the same subject ¨C a youthful, terrible Sera ¨C but each consecutive painting exposed more of the bone underneath her skin, until finally she was just a skeleton, raw and expressionless. A caption for the painting series sat just under the last portrait, a plaque with text written in delicate, feminine script. It read ¨C Die Bitch! Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. ¡°Oh,¡± Momo said, momentarily speechless. Then she laughed. ¡°What the hell are you guys doing down here?¡± Kasula tore Momo¡¯s hand away from the wall and towards the other end of the hallway, where a figure, faintly illuminated, was standing bent over like a creaky old man. Momo grew the size of the modest fireball in her hand, expanding the radius of the light to expose a severely unamused Vivienne, with a gaping, bloody wound slit around her middle. ¡°Vivienne!¡± Momo exclaimed, wiggling out of Kasula¡¯s grasp to fly over to the grimacing knight. She instinctively reached out to touch the wound, but forgot she was a literal fire-wielding imp. Vivienne squealed in response, swatting Momo¡¯s hand away and berating her. ¡°Are you trying to kill me?¡± she spat. ¡°No!¡± Momo squeaked, demorphing in an instant. The room fell dark again. ¡°At least not intentionally. What happened to you?¡± ¡°None of your business,¡± Vivienne said, then winced again, grasping at the wound. Momo thought to activate her [Eye of the Nether Demon] again and try out [Soul First Aid], but from her understanding, that incantation only worked when the person¡¯s health was hovering around zero. It repaired the tether between the soul and the body, not injuries of the flesh. ¡°Here,¡± Kasula said, stepping between her and Momo in the dark and blindly reaching out her hand towards Vivienne. Magic like moonlight traveled from her fingertips to Vivienne¡¯s center, cauterizing the wound and stopping the bleeding. Vivienne breathed out a lofty exhale and stared at the floor for several seconds, centering herself. ¡°Thank you,¡± she said, lifting her head. Her voice was small and embarrassed. She removed her mantle and fastened it over the healing wound to cover it. ¡°It was a stupid, completely avoidable injury. I was handling this old dagger when the lights suddenly went out. The place is lit by everburning soul flames, so they shouldn¡¯t have just dissipated like that. The sudden blackout made me drop the dagger and I ended up slitting my stomach wide open.¡± Oops. Momo felt bad, but she wasn¡¯t about to out herself as the culprit. Kasula side-eyed her. ¡°Dagger?¡± Momo said, shifting the subject. ¡°Is it part of that Blood Immortality Set?¡± Momo couldn¡¯t see Vivienne in the darkness, but she could hear the way she froze. ¡°What do you know about that set?¡± she asked slowly, her tone cautious. ¡°I know that I¡¯ve unwittingly befriended two out of three parts of it,¡± Momo muttered, recalling without any fondness her interactions with both talking artifacts. ¡°That¡¯s how we unlocked the basement staircase. I shoved the bracelet and the locket in the space behind the portrait.¡± Vivienne grabbed onto Momo¡¯s wrist. ¡°Are you kidding? You have the other two pieces?¡± ¡°Um¡­ yes?¡± ¡°And you didn¡¯t tell me?¡± Vivienne said rabidly, shaking Momo¡¯s arm like it was a pool noodle. Momo frowned. ¡°Okay, slow down. You were literally trying to kill me up until a few weeks ago, and also, I didn¡¯t know you cared. Everyone I talk to seems convinced they¡¯re pretty useless. Plus, aren¡¯t they vampire-only items? I don¡¯t know any vampires, do you?¡± ¡°They¡¯re not vampire-only,¡± Vivienne said quickly, then took a breath, steadied herself, and let go of Momo¡¯s wrists. ¡°You can wear them under one condition: a major or minor class blessed by Neculai. Back before Morgana and Neculai went their separate ways ¨C a fairly recent development, in the grand scale of mortal history ¨C there were plenty of class collaborations between the two.¡± She paused, then extended her arm. It was only when she rolled up her sleeves did Momo realize that she¡¯d never seen Vivienne without body armor before. Her arms were almost always completely covered in some kind of gauntlet or layered cloth. When she pulled the sleeve back, Momo¡¯s eyes ran over dozens of runic inscriptions like the ones that covered the arms of the man in town. Normally, she wouldn¡¯t have been able to see them in the dark, but the runes glowed a faint red, emanating a crimson light. ¡°What are these?¡± Momo asked softly, looking up to search Vivienne¡¯s eyes. Under the red light, the woman¡¯s skin looked almost ghastly, like that of a blood-covered ghoul. ¡°Blood runes,¡± she answered stoically. ¡°Every Sanguine Death Knight has them. I told you, I was a necromancer before I¡­ changed classes. I sacrificed a lot to undergo that transformation. Completely purged myself of the Nether. But these runes are different ¨C they don¡¯t exactly wash away in the shower. It was bloody difficult keeping up my identity in Nam¡¯Dal with these inscriptions running up my arms and legs. But I¡¯m sure their permanence was part of Neculai¡¯s punishment. He¡¯s a petty devil like that.¡± She pulled a jagged, sharp-edged dagger from the harness on her thigh. It was glowing vermillion and littered with the same runic letters that ran up Vivienne¡¯s arms. The runes glowed green, contrasting beautifully with the macabre red. The tip of the dagger was bathed in a permanent draping of blood, as if it was always fresh off a stabbing. While Momo couldn¡¯t hear chattering, she got the sense that there was some morbid sentience to it. It was waiting for an opportunity to strike with bated breath. ¡°But when I have all the artifacts together¡­¡± she said, moving the hilt gently to observe the dagger from all sides, staring at with absolute reverie. She looked back up towards Momo, and her eyes glowed red ¨C red like Valerica¡¯s. ¡°I¡¯ll finally be able to change back.¡± 186 – An Interrogation At Sea This revelation put Momo in an unfortunate situation. Luckily, Momo was no stranger to unfortunate situations. Some would say the opposite ¨C when put in a fortunate situation, it was Momo¡¯s instinct to, as quickly and with as little self-awareness as possible, turn it into a very agonizing one. Her parents had shamelessly referred to her as the unlucky child for a reason, and she was in steep competition with a brother whose personal idol was the neighborhood drug dealer. ¡°He¡¯s more than that, man, he¡¯s an up and coming rap god,¡± Dae-hyun would remind her as they watched him from Momo¡¯s bedroom window, their tiny eyes completely absorbed by his feeble attempts to insert the ends of balloons into his mouth and inhale the helium. ¡°Vivienne,¡± Momo said calmly, backing away just a smidgen to obstruct the path between the blonde woman and the upper staircase. The former Sera-loyalist tracked her every movement with a pinning, watchful gaze. ¡°No offense, but giving the chronic liar and backstabber access to ultra-powerful artifacts with unknown effects seems like a really stupid idea, even for me.¡± To Momo¡¯s surprise, Vivienne didn¡¯t react by pushing her out of the way and running for it. (It¡¯s what Momo would have done, if their roles were reversed.) ¡°Of course it¡¯s a stupid idea,¡± Vivienne said instead, scoffing and hastily pulling her sleeve back down. ¡°Which is why I intend to trade you for them. You have been good to me, despite having every reason not to be. I, unlike my sister, am not going to repay that kindness by slicing your neck open,¡± then for no apparent reason except to make Momo squirm, she added, ¡°for now.¡± She then took a moment to survey the frigid basement. A forlorn look took over her features. ¡°Enough empty bloodshed has occurred here,¡± she said softly. ¡°I don¡¯t intend to add to the pile.¡± Momo didn¡¯t hide her surprise, an odd feeling of warmth spreading within her. It wasn¡¯t often she saw her kindness genuinely repaid. Momo¡¯s grace was usually responded to with, at best, more threats, and at worst, actual attempts of murder. Receiving neither, she relaxed a bit. ¡°Trade what, exactly?¡± she asked. ¡°Information,¡± Vivienne said. ¡°But first, let¡¯s get out of the dark. This feels ridiculous.¡± Vivienne stepped forward, but Kasula cut her off, pressing a dagger to her nape. ¡°Nuh uh,¡± the elf said. ¡°Momo, please, at the very least, have the foresight to put the goods back on the ship before letting the vampire upstairs.¡± Momo turned red, mentally accosting herself. ¡°Oh, that¡¯s ¨C that¡¯s probably a good idea.¡± ¡ª The deal was carried out in the undercabins. Six wax candles drew lines of light across the damp floorboards, which were wet with not alcohol, but grape juice. A gaggle of child sailors had gathered there earlier, attempted to play hide and seek, and then, with nowhere to hide, decided instead to invent a game that involved spilling every juice canteen on the ship into one ginormous puddle of mirthy fruit. Momo¡¯s clogs stuck horribly to the floors, making that dreaded sticky, grippy sound as she disattached them. It made her cringe inwardly, shuddering as she settled into her seat. ¡°Are you alright, your highness?¡± Grimli asked, posted behind her like a minifridge-sized bodyguard. ¡°You seem rather off-kilter. Is there something I can do?¡± ¡°Yes, actually. Please get some soap and a mop.¡± Grimli stared at her blankly. ¡°I don¡¯t think the scary lady will take kindly to you washing her, your highness. It is not customary during deals of trade.¡± Momo instantly decided it wasn¡¯t worth continuing that line of conversation. Vivienne dropped into her seat, parallel Momo, with tired impatience. Kasula and Ribeye watched the door, and Kami was in the adjacent room monitoring the artifacts. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s cut to the point,¡± Vivienne said, crossing her arms. ¡°I haven¡¯t told you everything.¡± ¡°Duh,¡± Kasula added. ¡°You¡¯re clamped as tight as a clam in a straight jacket.¡± Momo side-eyed Kasula aggressively, quickly interjecting, ¡°I kindly ask that third parties refrain from commenting.¡± The elf laughed, then made a zipping motion across her lips. Momo turned her attention back to Vivienne, who was looking absently towards the door. Her mind was clearly on the artifacts. ¡°I want to know about the beginning of the cult, please,¡± Momo said quietly, drawing the woman¡¯s attention back to her. ¡°I want to know what happened to all those bodies on the beach. Why you and Nia weren¡¯t affected. What Sera is hiding from Morgana. What her full plans are for the Holy Resistance. All of it, and the artifacts are yours. I don¡¯t like carrying them around anyway. They¡¯re unreasonably heavy for a pair of accessories.¡± Vivienne frowned, but ultimately, she talked. ¡°Fine.¡± What Momo appreciated about Vivienne ¨C in direct contrast to her sister, and Valerica, and pretty much every necromancer or necromancer-adjacent being in the realm ¨C was how little time she had for evasive metaphors and unrelated tangents. She gave just enough detail to steer the story along, then moved on. It was so refreshing it nearly made Momo fall in love with her. Not like that¡¯s hard to do. The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. ¡°Nia and I were orphans,¡± Vivienne admitted first, visibly shrinking into herself. ¡°Got dropped off right outside the old granary like a rotting sack of potatoes. Really, that isn¡¯t some metaphor ¨C they thought we were rotting potatoes. We smelled filthy, and we came delivered in a withered old linen sack. It was Hobert, the town artist, that discovered us, took us in, and raised us until we were about eight. He couldn¡¯t hear, so he used the language of the hand. But we caught on eventually.¡± Emotion finding its way into her leveled speech, she took a moment, breathed in the grape juice scented fumes, then continued. Momo thought of ordering Grimli to get the knight a tissue, but she was sure that would only add fuel to whatever miscommunication they already had going on. ¡°One day, this older girl comes to town. God ¨C she smelled terrible. Worse than us in our little flour sack,¡± Vivienne said, and the tips of her lips curve upwards, amused. ¡°We asked Hobert about it and he said she was a sage. That was a code word for a magician that couldn¡¯t do magic, a useless, impotent type. Soon enough, though, she started miraculously saving people from the dead. Just as they were about to todge off into the Nether, she woke them back up, as if they were only napping.¡± Goosebumps ran up Momo¡¯s skin. That sounded oddly like [Soul First Aid] ¨C the same technique she¡¯d used to save Culver from descending into the abyss. To think Sera had only used it as a manipulation tactic, a performance to bring the townspeople to her side, made Momo sick to her stomach. That woman was an absolute leech, she thought. Dae-hyun would have probably looked up to her. ¡°Didn¡¯t take much after that for the whole town to be obsessed with her,¡± Vivienne continued, malice creeping back into her voice. ¡°Nia and I weren¡¯t unaffected. We thought she was the most incredible sorcerer in Alois, and, naturally, the ego-maniac that she is, Sera loved us in turn. She loved the attention. She¡¯d call us her apprentices. She taught us everything she knew about necromancy. This carried on until most of the children in town were part of her apprenticeship program, their parents her sworn evangelists. Not Hobert, though.¡± Vivienne sighed, momentarily lost in memory. ¡°To put it plainly, Hobert was loyal to Kyros. And not in the way that those doof Holy Knights are. He was a true believer. He didn¡¯t care so much for piety, or for the god himself, but for living by Kyros¡¯s original principle tenet: live well, praise truth, disavow lies,¡± she explained, surprising Momo. She had never heard any of Kyros¡¯s actual principles before; this one sounded like something she¡¯d see printed on a shirt sold by an Etsy seller that targeted middle-aged, religious soccer moms. ¡°He saw it plainly that Sera was lying about being a cleric. She was masking necromancy as something it wasn¡¯t, so he began to try and undo her influence. You can imagine how that ended for him,¡± she said, tone dripping with spite. ¡°He was the first to be mummified. Sera then took all his belongings, all his precious paintings, and left them in that ransacked house. She altered them to be storage containers for her experiments and artifacts.¡± Momo¡¯s eyebrows creased. ¡°So she originally had the Blood Immortality Set?¡± ¡°No,¡± Vivienne said, with an air of relief. ¡°Only I had the dagger. I bought it off some strange merchant with an even stranger accent ¨C he was selling giant dogs, mainly, and talked like he couldn¡¯t use his tongue properly ¨C but anyway, I hid the dagger from both Sera and my sister. My discovery of it alerted the Class System, and it allowed me to evolve my class all the way up to Sanguine Death Knight. I knew the other two artifacts were out there, and that they were a bracelet and a necklace, but I could never find them. It was so frustrating. Until now.¡± Her knee bobbed with anticipation, her eyes affixed to the door handle. It was clear she wanted nothing more than to be done with this interview. Momo didn¡¯t blame her. Being a fake Holy Knight for so many years sounded unimaginably exhausting. Momo found it tiring enough dealing with necromancers, but at least they weren¡¯t annoyingly obsessed with some tentacle-tongued feline whose religion was based on Pinterest quotations. ¡°Anyways,¡± Vivienne said. ¡°Soon after Hobert was mummified, the town turned against Sera, adequately horrified that she transformed one of their own into a lifeless wax mold. Nia and I were the only two who didn¡¯t turn on her, so we were spared. The whole thing happened in less than a day,¡± Vivienne swallowed. ¡°Once Sera deems you unnecessary, death comes swiftly.¡± ¡°And you two just¡­ watched it happen?¡± Kasula interjected with a disbelieving laugh. ¡°You turned on your own adoptive father. Pretty damn heartless.¡± Momo bit her lip, mentally groaning as she gave the elf another hard stare. ¡°And what would you have done?¡± Vivienne barked back, levitating out of her seat an inch to bear her teeth towards Kasula. The elf only smiled. She¡¯s doing this on purpose, Momo realized. Teasing out information by playing with her emotions. It was totally evil, unethical, terrible and also ¨C it was working. ¡°We had no choice. Sera would have mummified us just the same. Also, we were children. She told us, under her mentorship, we¡¯d become powerful beyond belief. That we¡¯d be able to bring back not just the dead ¨C but the souls of the dead ¨C like Hobert¡¯s soul.¡± That piqued Momo¡¯s interest. ¡°And did you?¡± she asked softly, directing Vivienne¡¯s attention ¨C and her fury ¨C away from Kasula. ¡°Did she teach you how to bring souls back from the Nether?¡± ¡°No,¡± Vivienne said coldly. ¡°It was a lie, obviously. No one can do that. Not without Morgana¡¯s permission slip, at least.¡± Momo hummed. That aligned with what Valerica had told her about the Nether Pool: the shimmering liquid cauldron that allowed her to fetch souls from Earth, or as she liked to call it, the Other-World. It seemed that souls could be ripped between the universes without issue, but not directly from the Nether. The Nether was Morgana¡¯s domain, and she was terribly territorial. ¡°Okay,¡± Momo said, racking her brain to remember the rest of the questions she wanted answered. Urgh. This is why she should have bought a bulk package of that ADHD-curing tea from Drachenheim. Unfortunately, the tea had worn off before she could remember to buy it. It was an eternal circle of executive functionless suffering. ¡°So the Holy Resistance. What¡¯s her end-goal there? And how does it connect to the¡­¡± Momo lowered her voice, ¡°the box?¡± Kasula gave her an intrigued look, but said nothing. Momo had yet to mention it to her. ¡°Sera¡¯s goal has been the same from the very beginning,¡± Vivienne said, the mirth in her voice only increasing. ¡°It¡¯s the thing she keeps failing miserably at¡ªto be beloved. Or, at the very least, to be feared enough to be beloved. It¡¯s exactly what she did to me and Nia, only she wants it on the grandest scale. She wants to agonize and torture enough souls that they come crawling to her on their knees with roses in their mouth. She wants to hold the entirety of humanity in the palm of her hand, and then look back at Morgana and say, hey look at me. Aren¡¯t I special?¡± After that, a silence like death plagued the room. Momo wasn¡¯t sure what else to ask, Vivienne wasn¡¯t sure what else to say. ¡°But I would be wary of one thing, Momo,¡± Vivienne said, finally. Her eyes moved off the door and towards Momo¡¯s pouch, where the dismal cube was stored. ¡°If the box hasn¡¯t activated yet, there¡¯s a reason for it. Sera¡­ she must be waiting for something. Unless you want to end up inside it, twisted miserably around all the other sorry soul chains, I¡¯d suggest you find out what.¡± 187 – So, Were Stranded? After they extracted all the information they could out of Vivienne, Momo and her crew made good on their promise. But before they handed the artifacts over, Momo add one last minute qualification to the exchange. "Vivienne," she said, rubbing her hands nervously. "Will you become my Loyal Follower?" "Your what?" Momo explained the concept to her. She had read the description in the Demagogue skill tree several times before proposing it, and as far as she could tell, becoming a Loyal Follower forebode someone from betraying the Demagogue it was attached to. If they did betray them, they''d suffer a huge and near-permanent stat penalty. "It''s just that, if I''m really going to hand over these ultra-powerful artifacts, it''d be really nice to have a failsafe in case you try and use them against me," Momo said, shrugging. Surprisingly, Vivienne eventually agreed. Kami disarmed all of his many visible (and invisible) traps, broke into his own safe using nothing more than a paperclip, then reluctantly slipped the artifacts into Vivienne¡¯s open, over-eager hands. Much to Momo¡¯s surprise, the knight didn¡¯t immediately put them on. Instead, she wrapped them tightly in charcoal paper, crumpled the sides so they were as secure as a child tucked into bed, and stuffed them in her backpack. ¡°I need to put them on under the right conditions,¡± she explained, not elaborating further. She then gave Momo a hard, considering look. If the woman wasn¡¯t so traumatized, the look might have even been pleasant. But this was Vivienne, so a thick cloud of wrong place, wrong time, wrong choice of necromantic mentor sat eternally between them. They didn¡¯t hug, or even shake hands, but Momo, being Momo, couldn¡¯t help herself. She gave Vivienne a small salute, tipping her hat downwards. Vivienne just frowned, shaking her head tiredly in response, but Momo could tell there was a small amount of amusement hiding behind all of that bristly exterior. An appreciation that went unsaid. ¡°For what it¡¯s worth, I hope Sera doesn¡¯t kill you,¡± Vivienne said. Momo grinned. ¡°That means a lot.¡± As Vivienne climbed up the ladder towards the upper decks, a courier swooped down through the hatch just above her, shooting through the hallways to land just in front of Momo¡¯s nose.
Congratulations! For viciously gaslighting a pair of Excalibur knights, prancing around in a town full of mummified bodies, and helping a Holy Knight betray Kyros, your major class, Nether Dokkaebi, has been upgraded to level 3. You have gained the skill [Nether Displacement]. [Nether Displacement]: By manipulating the Nether, allow your body (and all attached materials) to pass through previously impassible surfaces, such as doors, walls, and even other people! Use it to reach into the chest of your enemy and remove their uselessly beating heart, or to fetch a snack from the fridge when you¡¯re feeling too lazy to open it.
Momo smiled wide and turned to Grimli, who looked, as always, mildly terrified. ¡°I have something I wanna try.¡± ¡ª Momo had Grimli set up a line of apples on the main deck, just by where the children were manning the nets. She then spent the next half an hour giggling to herself as she bobbed her hand up, stole an apple right in front of their faces, and sucked it back down into the cabins below. The kids absolutely loved it. They kept begging her to disappear bigger and bigger items, until she was pulling down chairs, then ropes, then barrels, and finally Dusk, who clawed her in the face in response. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. ¡°Our captain surely has an interesting way of boosting morale,¡± Gita whispered to her gloomy husband. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen the kids more excited.¡± ¡°She¡¯s weird,¡± Ribeye muttered. ¡°But I can¡¯t lie, she makes it work.¡± ¡ª Unfortunately, the jovial antics only lasted so long. Ribeye had mapped out a new course to Karahtan, but just as they tried to get the boat moving, they discovered that no matter the wind in the sails, the hull just wouldn¡¯t budge. It swayed madly, jiving back and forth in the shallow water. After a quick investigation, the unlikely culprit became apparent. ¡°Barium Sea snails got the hull, goddammit,¡± Ribeye spat, holding one of the accused mollusk¡¯s in his hand and growling. ¡°We¡¯re beached.¡± Momo, her oversized tricorn slipping over her eyes, stared at the hull of the boat with all the menace and commanding presence of a baby monkey. She had tried to scare the snails off in a myriad of ways: [Yar Har Har]ing them until Ribeye¡¯s ears bled, knocking them off with a bat, and now, finally, aggressively gazing. Despite all of her efforts, not as much as a single mollusk disconnected from the ship. They were stuck fast like gum to a school desk. ¡°So, we¡¯re stranded?¡± Momo asked miserably. ¡°Like a whale dropped on a mountain top,¡± he said with a grimace. Momo took that for a yes. She looked off into the ocean, dejected. She had encountered many trials and tribulations during her time as captain, but nothing could have prepared her for the invasion of a thousand microscopic sea snails, their slimy blue gel coating the ship¡¯s wood. According to Ribeye, the snails¡¯ trails were made up of liquid baryte, causing them to give off unpredictable magical effects; some of the snails bore fiery holes through the hull like laser beams, others ate away at the wood like ravenous termites. ¡°There¡¯s only one reliable way to kill ¡®em,¡± Ribeye grunted. ¡°You have to smoke them out. You put a giant vacuum-sealed net around the hull, get ¡®em snug in there, and then pump enough excess fireball smoke inside that they faint from the lack of oxygen. That process won¡¯t take long, but repairing the damage they¡¯ve done with their freakish slime will. Probably a week at best, if we get all the children in on it.¡± Momo gripped the tiny, morbid box in her pocket. She imagined it swallowing Morganium whole, sucking every soul out of its many skyscrapers, picking out bricks from its teeth like animal bones. She imagined Sumire, sitting lonely in the throne room, gazing out the window as a dozen different combatants climbed the city walls like fire ants. There were so many different ways things could go wrong. There were so many different ways she could lose the one person on this mortal plane who actually believed in her. She didn¡¯t exactly have a week to spare. ¡°There¡¯s got to be a different way,¡± she said, breathing in. Grimli, who had been standing politely by her side, cleared his throat. He then held up his hand, showing the gleaming, golden sphere trapped inside. ¡°I believe there is, your highness.¡± ¡ª The plan they agreed on was thus: most of Kami¡¯s crew would stay aboard the ship to smoke out the snails and fix the hull, while Momo, Kasula, Grimli, and Nyk would travel on Vra¡¯ta to the Vagrant Dune¡¯s capital. There, Momo would seek out Lione and figure out how to disable the box while Kasula hunted for clues about the Soul Splitting Dagger. Naturally, there were already problems. ¡°I¡¯m terrified to open the jar,¡± Momo admitted, holding the glass up to her face to see the minified dokkaebi sleeping fitfully inside. ¡°What if she¡¯s mad at me for not opening it sooner?¡± ¡°Of course she¡¯s going to be mad,¡± Kasula said. ¡°If that was me, I¡¯d be pissed.¡± ¡°If you¡¯re trying to give me confidence, you¡¯re failing.¡± The elf laughed, and the waves rolled. The pair of them sat on the beach¡¯s edge, enjoying their last nighttime ritual before the two embarked on the next segment of their journey. Momo had come to enjoy the simplicity that was floating along at sea. She had assumed, prior to the voyage, that sleeping in undulating bunkbeds with no land for a hundred miles would be a claustrophobic nightmare, and it was, but it also turned out that there was a certain level of routine to it that dulled Momo¡¯s usual anxieties. She always knew what she¡¯d wear in the morning (the same, vaguely clean rags from the day before), and what she¡¯d eat (a bunch of shish-kebabbed insects, or, if she was lucky, Dusk¡¯s leftover tuna), and what role she¡¯d play (typically, glorified kindergarten teacher masquerading as a sea captain). Now, she had no idea of what was to come, only that she¡¯d be riding into the unknown on the back of a mechanical wolf, no saddle, and it would probably give her a rash. ¡°Look, sometimes you just have to rip the band aid off,¡± Kasula added after a moment, seeing Momo¡¯s horrified expression. ¡°If the nymph tries to kill you, I¡¯ll interfere. Probably.¡± Momo glared. ¡°How reassuring.¡± ¡°Eh. It¡¯s only an incredibly powerful contract killer stuck in a jar. You¡¯re overthinking it.¡± Momo shook her head. Oh, screw it. Taking a long, deep breath in, she uncorked the jar. 188 – Zephyra Ren The incredibly powerful contract killer took it better than expected. Which was to say, still not great. But at least Momo¡¯s horns were still attached to her head. The dokkaebi crawled out of the jar like a wet fruit fly, then rapidly grew in size until she had returned to her full, lanky form. Her typically pristine gothic attire was wrinkled and torn; her bangs, too, looked like they¡¯d just endured a small hurricane. All in all, it was as if she had put her clothes in the washing machine before remembering to take them off. She snarled at Momo. ¡°You¡¯re lucky Valerica knows my home address,¡± Nyk spat, dusting off her sleeves. Momo just laughed nervously. When Nyk said nothing more, Momo pointed to the mechanical wolf lying in wait on the shores. ¡°How about I make it up to you,¡± she said. ¡°You get to ride in the front seat?¡± ¡ª Momo had never seen four people ride atop a single wolf before, but then again, she had never seen anyone ride a wolf, period. Previous to her life in Alois, she had never even seen a wolf. And certainly not one that was reflective, or with nostrils like small steam engines. There were a lot of firsts for her here on this terribly unusual planet, and the breakneck pace at which they arrived never seemed to slow. But, back to the wolf. Due to his modular design, Vra¡¯ta¡¯s torso could seemingly adjust in length to account for the amount of people riding. For just one passenger, he assumed his typical lupine shape, but every time a person climbed aboard, his body elongated, until he looked like a perplexing cross between a dog and a gold-plated snake. Handlebars also emerged on the surface of his coat, making him technically more similar to a rollercoaster cart than a living, breathing animal. ¡°Does that not¡­ bother him?¡± Momo said to Grimli, gesturing to the wolf¡¯s body as it expanded once more to account for another seat. Momo personally couldn¡¯t imagine herself enjoying the sensation of adding another seven inches to her torso every time somebody needed a place to sit, but she had also never been a mechanical wolf. So it was a bit like apples and oranges. Grimli gave her a disbelieving look. ¡°Of course it doesn¡¯t. Vra¡¯ta is designed to carry entire hordes of dwarves into war. At his maximum capacity, he once carried an entire city atop his back, with a built-in nursery for the newborns, a dormitory for the tired, several taverns with various ales on tap, and one bathroom.¡± ¡°One bathroom?¡± Momo said, her throat suddenly dry. She all but fainted at the mere concept. A city with one bathroom sounded like her personal hellscape. ¡°I mean, it¡¯s a moving vehicle, your highness. If you really need to piss, you just jump off and take a wee in the woods,¡± he shrugged. ¡°I¡­¡± She stared off into the distance. ¡°Nevermind.¡± She boarded the wolf, tucked herself in behind the handlebar, and stored Dusk in the backpack. True to Grimli¡¯s words, Vra¡¯ta¡¯s mechanical biology accommodated for every need that arised; when Momo had no place to store her backpack, a storage bucket was produced from the wolf¡¯s side. Then, sometime later, a cup holder for Nyk¡¯s gin canteen, followed by a headrest for Kasula¡¯s aching neck, and a roof to block out the blazing desert sun. After a few hours, the wolf¡¯s back had transformed into something akin to an aircraft cabin. Unfortunately, the wolf-cabin did not come with air conditioning. The desert heat was dry and terrible, burning Momo from the inside out. Desperate to distract herself from the aching burn, she let her mind wander somewhere typically forbidden, a niche in her mind so precious and protected, she didn¡¯t allow a single visitor ¨C even herself. She thought of Sumire. Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. It wasn¡¯t that she wanted to avoid thinking of her. Quite the contrary. She quite badly wanted to fill her mind up with the most perfect distraction there was: the one girl who could tolerate her. It was just that everytime the woman graced her mind, with her ridiculous smile and her murderous sense of humor, a deep, fitful worrying dug into Momo¡¯s gut like a parasite. An anxiety that left her paralyzed. It was like drinking a poisonous elixir: it just so happened that the most precious human she¡¯d yet to find in this deranged realm also happened to be the de-facto leader of her people. A decision she had made, of course. It had made sense originally; if Sumire was her highest confidant, that meant they could spend more time together: scheming, giggling, drinking tea and making geopolitical decisions. But, as with most of Momo¡¯s rash, hormone-guided impulses, it came with the bitter aftertaste of unforeseen consequences. The truth of it was ¡ª she had left her most cherished thing in the perfect place to die. It was quite like abandoning your favorite teddy bear out on the lawn while your dad charged up the mower. She sighed, and on an impulse, fetched her sketchbook from her bag. However serendipitously, it opened to the drawing she had been sketching the day she died on Earth. The incomplete portrait of some television actress. She could remember the visceral way her heart jumped in her chest when the skeleton snatched it out of her hands. She had been more embarrassed than concerned back then, but looking back, the crux of the emotion had been very similar to the one now coursing through her chest¡ª He had something important to her, arguably the most important thing, and it was probable to perish in his bony little hands. She turned the pages again and again, until a blank canvas stared back at her. For as long as Momo had been able to hold a pencil, art had been her only way to remember. She had never been good with words, and even worse with writing them down. Her brain was as clouded as a midnight in Paris. A jar of still-lit cigars. Her therapists claimed it was ADHD, anxiety, OCD. Whatever. To her, it had always just been a fact of life. Sketching, and sketching alone, let her focus everything down into a single stroke of detail. While her mind was always apt to betray her, her drawings were as honest memoirs as she could get. So she dipped a quill into ink, and drew. ¡ª Momo awoke to the sound of raucous cheering. She groaned, her eyes painfully adjusting to the blaring light of desert day. Once her corneas recovered from being deep fried, they revealed a series of decadent archways. Paisley-patterned sandstone that served as the outer layer surrounding what could only be the Vagrant Dunes¡¯ capital city: Karahtan. ¡°What¡¯s all that noise?¡± she muttered, rubbing aggressively at her eyelids. She noticed that she was the only one still on the vehicle ¨C err ¨C the dog. Dogicle? Grimli and the rest had gathered around the city¡¯s entrance, the foremost archway that was barricaded by beige-colored guards. Their armor was camouflage, and it worked well. Momo could barely distinguish them from the rolling sand dunes. They were equipped with halberds much like the ones that the Knights of the Sun carried. It occurred to Momo that Jarva¡¯s men had left Alois without their weaponry. It only made sense that they had to borrow more than just the local¡¯s hospitality ¨C but their armories, too. ¡°There seems to be some kind of event happening in the stadium,¡± Kasula observed. ¡°It¡¯s probably a rockball tournament. Biggest sport on this side of the world.¡± Nyk, her face frozen in an expression of permanent annoyance, turned to one of the guards. ¡°Are you going to let us inside, or what? It¡¯s hot out here.¡± ¡°It¡¯s hot inside, too,¡± the guard responded neutrally. Nyk groaned. It seemed that due to the event, a queue had been enforced outside the city. Passports and visas were taking longer than usual to process, and the hellish manual system meant that Momo and her flock were looking at a twenty-six hour wait time, at least according to the magically-enhanced bulletin board floating above the gates. ¡°Alright, smartass. How about you answer this ¨C what teams are playing in the tournament? Because if one of them is the Louisville Lipid Litigators, I better be compensated with front row seats after all this wait time mess,¡± Nyk said, pressing a fiery finger to his chest. He looked completely disinterested in helping her. Momo didn¡¯t blame him ¨C he was probably suffering from permanent heat stroke standing outside in all of that armor. But it did amuse Momo greatly to learn that Nyk was apparently a¡­ sports fan? She hadn¡¯t seen the dokkaebi respond with anything other than apathy to pretty much every subject Momo raised. She hadn¡¯t expected her kryptonite to be a bunch of mortals kicking a rock around, but then again, people were hardly predictable. ¡°It¡¯s not a rockball tournament,¡± the guard answered, skipping over the vaguely shrouded threats. ¡°It¡¯s a paragon tour. Our first one since the Dark Calamity. The only reason I¡¯m working out here all day is so I could afford to buy my sister tickets,¡± he sighed, shaking his head. ¡°She¡¯s obsessed with that new hotshot elf Zephyra. Zephyra Ren.¡± Before the name was halfway out of the man¡¯s mouth, Kasula screamed bloody murder. ¡°My fucking sister is here?¡± 189 – Hidden in Plain Sight Much to Kasula¡¯s dismay, Momo immediately forced her to use her family ties to their advantage. A quick flash of her passport, which included illuminating details such as her last name, her elvish political class, and a fold-out family tree that included Zephyra and six other siblings, moved them straight to the front of the line. ¡°This way, ladies,¡± a guard instructed, leading them sideways from the gate and into a separate underground pathway. As it turned out, the archways¡¯ foundations were hollow; their interior contained an elaborate tunnel system which allowed the guardsmen to conveniently access different points in the winding city. Small torches ran across the sand-colored walls, brightening an otherwise pitch black underpass. ¡°Of all the places in Alois, she just had to choose this one, that absolute worm, that spindling spadra,¡± Kasula spat under her breath; she had been murmuring to herself for the last several minutes, cursing in a foreign tongue every one or two syllables. ¡°If word gets back to mother¡­¡± ¡°I¡¯m guessing that you and your mom aren¡¯t on the best of terms?¡± Momo whispered, nudging politely into Kasula¡¯s side. She wanted to subtly remind the elf that she was in fact talking, the aloud sort of talking, not merely disparaging her sister inside the safety of her own skull like most siblings did. Momo and company continuing to receive a personal escort through the city very much rested on the fact that Kasula was (allegedly) here to see her sister. Without that alibi, they were posed to be thrusted out onto the streets, or worse, to the back of the queue. ¡°My mother is a Beau Id¨¦al,¡± Kasula said quietly, with an utterly poisonous tone. ¡°If she knew I was alive, she¡¯d have every able-bodied dope in the Elven Empire searching for me. Not to bring me home, of course, but to make sure I was deposited safely and politely in a body bag.¡± Momo gaped. And she thought she had mommy issues. ¡°She thinks you¡¯re dead?¡± ¡°Yes. And I try my hardest to keep it that way,¡± Kasula said. ¡°If it wasn¡¯t for the job Kami has me on here, I¡¯d make a beeline for the ocean and paddle the waves like a goddamn sea turtle.¡± Beside her, Nyk smirked. ¡°You have a creative mouth,¡± the dokkaebi said. ¡°It amuses me.¡± Kasula did not seem amused. ¡°I¡¯m not joking in the least. If Kami gave me the signal right now, I¡¯d happily swim back to Aloysius on nothing but a pool noodle. Anything to get away from that glorified dress up doll. But the merchandise we plan to acquire here,¡± she paused, pursing her lips. ¡°It¡¯s too valuable. I can¡¯t let my tired familial angst stop me from getting the job done.¡± Momo admired her conviction. She had personally let familial angst get in the way of most things in her life. In fact, despite being lightyears away from her mother, it was probably getting in the way of something even now. ¡°It won¡¯t,¡± Momo assured her, knocking her on the hip. ¡°You can just stay behind, play dead, whatever you need to do. I¡¯ll handle the talking.¡± ¡ª Momo, of course, made that promise before seeing Zephyra Ren. Thanks to several iterations of [Self Confidence], a giant boost in Charisma from her Expert power up, and the added public speaking practice that came with awkwardly ascending to queendom, Momo was finally less petrified by the idea of holding a conversation. But one remaining variable kept her from total, uninhibited extroversion; and that variable was beautiful women. Beautiful women that looked like they could skewer you with their shoe. By all accounts, Momo knew it was a bit strange that she was still so deeply affected by any woman with a little bit of mascara and a dagger-like high heel. It wasn¡¯t like she was a particularly superficial person. Hell, she couldn¡¯t even be one if she tried; she was much too sensitive to be judgemental, and much too stupid about makeup to have an opinion about which chemical you should or shouldn¡¯t lather on your face. It was more so Momo¡¯s own lack of refinement that made the opposite seem so intensely alluring, her own complete inability to decipher between mascara and eyeshadow, or two handbags, or an evening gown and a dress you wore for pajamas. If she was ever invited to the Met Gala, there was a high likelihood she¡¯d show up in overalls. Beauty, charisma, wealth, stage presence¡ªthese intangible things had always seemed so elusive to Momo, who had never gone to prom, or saved up for a dress, or possessed more than twenty dollars at any given moment. It wasn¡¯t that she never wanted those things, she was just never aware that those were things she could want. To be beautiful, striking, charismatic. Momo had spent her middle-school years wanting to paint herself the same color as the school lockers. To stand out, even remotely, seemed like an invitation for endless psychological torment. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. Yet seeing beauty personified to its logical extreme, elevated to such a ridiculous point that it seemed almost silly ¨C it toppled Momo¡¯s worldview entirely. She felt herself wanting, longing, like a fish that had, after many years of finding it a tad difficult to breathe, realized on a random Tuesday that it was flailing out of water. And Momo wasn¡¯t even looking at the woman herself. She was only staring at a poster. ¡°Will you please stop ogling my sister?¡± Kasula groaned. ¡°I¡¯m not ¨C I¡¯m not ogling,¡± Momo said. She really hadn¡¯t been. She had merely been locked in a sense of respectful reverie, like one might have for a particularly fast dog at an obstacle course competition. ¡°I¡¯m just¡­ how many high heels is she wearing? Like, six? All stacked on top of each other? That must give her killer leg cramps.¡± Momo examined the poster again, and to her astonishment, it was seven shoes. Where each heel ended, another began. It wasn¡¯t just the heels that came in excess, but the woman¡¯s nails too, long like wolverine claws, each stacked on top of the last like a human centipede. Her dress was constructed of hundreds of pictures of herself, each framed in a certain way so that they perfectly fit her figure. It was all at once a performance and a parody, but done in a way that remained sophisticated. It bled Momo¡¯s simple brain to bits. ¡°The poster is enchanted,¡± Kasula said, waving in front of Momo¡¯s face until the girl finally (reluctantly) separated from the paper. ¡°It¡¯s designed to completely absorb you. Paralyze you. Works similarly to a toxin. Why else would all these sorry sacks be five hours late to dinner with their kids? They¡¯ve probably been staring at the posters all day. It¡¯s a powerful drug.¡± Breaking from her reverie, Momo looked around her. The guard had dropped them off right outside the arena and gone for a quick smoke break. Zephyra was currently performing, and they weren¡¯t allowed backstage ¨C even with their family pass ¨C until her act was over. And, just as Kasula let on, Momo wasn¡¯t the only one who had been caught completely rethinking her life in front of one of those flimsy sheets of paper. Dozens of fans had their faces smushed to the parchment, others were praying to the poster as if it was a roadstop shrine. ¡°I don¡¯t really get the appeal,¡± Nyk said, loudly chewing gum as she drew her finger over the picture. She pierced Zephyra¡¯s face with one of her razor-tipped nails. ¡°Oops.¡± The parchment immediately healed the damage. The pictured Zephyra frowned at Nyk. ¡°Please don¡¯t injure the merchandise,¡± poster-Zephyra said. Nyk rolled her eyes. ¡°Merchandise? As if you charge people for these flimsy pieces of nothing,¡± she said, poking at it again. ¡°I¡¯d sooner streak my walls with horse shit than have your creepy face watching me every night.¡± ¡°Please don¡¯t injure the merchandise,¡± the poster repeated as Nyk¡¯s nail tore through it again. It repeated it ad nauseum, Nyk continually poking and prodding with increasing amusement. ¡°Alright, I¡¯m out of here,¡± Kasula said with a sigh. ¡°Telling by the tracklist, the final part of her show just started ¨C and I am not staying long enough to hear her god-awful encore song.¡± Momo bit her lip. Crap. ¡°But how are we going to get backstage without you?¡± ¡°You¡¯ll make do, I¡¯m sure. Weren¡¯t you the one who was going to do all the talking?¡± ¡°I never said that,¡± Momo squeaked. Kasula stared at her with the dismayed, utterly drained expression of a kindergarten teacher. ¡°You said that literally no less than five minutes ago.¡± ¡°There¡¯s no proof of that.¡± Kasula groaned. The lights in the arena suddenly blinked, turning from plasma red to shining, blinding blue. The roar of the crowd reached a new pinnacle, and the DJ began building towards a crescendo on his already over-saturated playlist. From the look on Kasula¡¯s face, Momo knew she¡¯d rather lose her hearing than be present at the beat drop. ¡°Look. I know this puts you in an awkward position. I definitely wished on multiple occasions to never see my brother or, better yet, hear his bland, ear-bleeding, insanely obnoxious music ever again. And I actually got my wish. Permanently. And if I¡¯m honest? It kind of sucks. Really sucks. It¡¯s so terribly depressing that sometimes I wish I could just hear the end of his stupid Summer Hits playlist again, even though it¡¯s always going to be Pitbull, and, worse even, it¡¯s always going to be Fireball,¡± Momo said, equal parts emotional and exasperated. ¡°But trust me. If the universe put you and your sister here, in this annoyingly hot city, at the exact same moment in time, maybe it¡¯s a sign. Or maybe it¡¯s not, but if you hate her so much ¨C you might as well get the satisfaction of reminding her again.¡± Kasula stilled. The bass built louder and louder, echoing around the arena. The soundwaves were so thick and heavy that everything had a faint ringing to it. Nyk¡¯s finger circled over the poster and dug into it again. ¡°¡ªplease don¡¯t injure the merchandise¡ª¡± Nyk laughed. She dug three nails into it this time, ripping further. ¡°¡ªPLEASE STOP injuring the merchandise¡ª¡± Nyk paused. ¡°Huh,¡± she said, eyes widening. ¡°I got a new voice line.¡± At the same time, the beat dropped. The arena lit up like a strobe light. ¡°I¡¯m not doing it,¡± Kasula said. It wasn¡¯t angry, it was just tired. ¡°Sorry, Momo.¡± The elf stalked forward and pushed past Momo. Nyk pointed her nail at the poster again, but then she stopped, noticing something. ¡°Yo. Momo,¡± she said, cocking her head back. She pointed to Zephyra¡¯s right hand. It was holding something sharp and gleaming. ¡°Isn¡¯t that the stupid dagger?¡± 190 – Tuberena Security Force ¡°I must have royally pissed off some goddess, because this is just stupid.¡± The bass roaring from the stadium was nearly too loud to hear a thing out of the elf¡¯s mouth, but Momo didn¡¯t have to hear to see the displeasure written into Kasula¡¯s features. Her eyes were pinned to Zephyra¡¯s right hand, where the Soul Splitting Dagger ¨C the precise sharp-edged ¡®merchandise¡¯ that Kami and his band of thieves were searching for in Karahtan ¨C was sitting pretty between the paragon¡¯s fingers. Momo would be lying if she wasn¡¯t relieved. ¡°So that means you¡¯re coming with us?¡± she probed happily, failing to hide her excitement. She really hadn¡¯t been looking forward to facing Zephyra alone. She didn¡¯t have to see a Paragon class stat breakdown to know that the elf-celebrity would probably be able to persuade her to do just about anything ¨C and Momo really meant anything; with that ungodly amount of Charisma, she¡¯d have Momo streaking across the stage naked, jumping into an ice bath, and publicly declaring that the Queendom of Morganium was being renamed into the Zephyra Fan Support Station. Kasula huffed. ¡°It seems the universe is giving me no other choice. But I still can¡¯t find a single reason for my insane sister, of all people, to be in possession of one of the Wraith Artifacts. The information we had for the dagger all pointed towards some guy named Count Marzipan. He fits the profile for the type of asshole who¡¯d own a dagger like that. Filthy rich, well-known collector of illicit goods, total show-off type.¡± ¡°Maybe Zephyra beat him to it?¡± Momo said with a shrug. ¡°Put in an offer they couldn¡¯t refuse?¡± Kasula laughed. ¡°No way. She keeps everything above board, at least publicly. If something came out about a Beau Id¨¦al¡¯s paragon daughter dipping her perfectly manicured talons into the illegal wraith trading ring, all hell would break loose.¡± ¡°If I¡¯m being honest, I¡¯m struggling to understand that sentence,¡± Momo mumbled. ¡°Let me translate,¡± Kasula said, looming over Momo like a long, skinny shadow. Nyk watched the display with mild interest, tossing the crumpled poster from hand to hand. ¡°If my sister has that dagger, either she¡¯s gotten herself into some deep shit on accident, or, vastly worse, on purpose.¡± Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. ¡ª A guard materialized outside the arena thirty minutes after the encore performance. Luckily for Momo and her two broody companions, they had so far avoided a flood of adrenaline-sick groupies. Due to the arena¡¯s odd architecture, the rabid fans were still trapped inside. The building was constructed of hundreds of conjoined cylinders, where fans could watch the paragon from inside claustrophobic tubes, their faces pressed to the transparent surface. There were no stairs, so maneuvering around other fans required crawling and pushing. Momo imagined the architect originally designed the tubes to work like a slide, so attendants could shuffle out on their ass when the concert concluded, but in practice, due to the sheer number of people inside, it was blocked up like some giant¡¯s gastrointestinal tract. ¡°Miss. Ren is ready for you,¡± the security guard said, his voice strained. It was a different guard than before. This one had a name tag that read Sergeant Gulp, Tuberena Security Force. In stark contrast to the guards at the gate, he was small, agile, with emaciated limbs. The perfect build for maneuvering around those hellish tubes. Just seeing his flushed cheeks and fresh bruises made Momo grateful she had been drafted into the necromancer war and not the security fleet for the world¡¯s biggest fire hazard¨Cerm¨Cmusic venue. All it takes is a little perspective to make you remember how good you¡¯ve got it. ¡°Please tell me we¡¯re not going in the way you came,¡± Kasula said dryly. ¡°I¡¯d rather swim with some Nether barracudas than get manhandled by a bunch of sis¡¯s groupies.¡± ¡°I fear that we will have to, Miss. Ren. It is the only way in and out of the building. My most sincere apologies,¡± he said, teeth chattering. He looked both traumatized and terrifying, like a rabid, chittering chihuahua. It made Momo wish she had jurisdiction here ¨C she¡¯d be very curious to take a gander at these guy¡¯s contracts. ¡°However, I have been specifically appointed to see that not a single finger lays upon you. Any assailant that dares will face the full wrath of the Tuberena Security Force.¡± Demonstrating his alleged wrath, the guard bit at the air several times, clamping down his teeth. Momo had never imagined what it might look like to see a fully grown man chomp at the air like a dog, but the result made her viscerally uncomfortable. I guess it¡¯s not just an Earth thing, Momo thought. No matter the universe, people will always act clinically insane around famous people. Fascinating. Kasula just sighed, muttered something under her breath, and started walking. 191 – Mindreader vs. Momo If there was one thing Momo had specifically avoided in her life on Earth, it was small spaces containing a lot of people. Due to her slight stature and general disposition, she was, when exposed to a crowd, always at a high likelihood of being tossed around like a salad. Thankfully, navigating the tubes wasn¡¯t nearly as bad as Momo envisioned it to be. Sergeant Gulp possessed a type of magic that was very earth-like in nature: he screamed at people, and they fled. It was odd watching such a loud, frightful sound come out of a man that looked more like a nervous capybara than a person, but it was efficient nonetheless, and Momo was grateful. Her [Crowd Control] helped too, of course, but his magic was better. After pressing through several sweaty mobs, they arrived at Zephyra¡¯s VIP chamber. It was hidden in plain sight, the innermost tube at the center of the giant, translucent organ. The guard knocked thrice, mumbled a shy ¡°the kin has arrived¡±, and Momo heard a button being pressed on the other side. In response, the circular door opened like a sphincter. ¡°Guinevere be merciful,¡± Kasula muttered, drawing what looked like a religious symbol on her chest. She then turned to Momo and lowered her voice to a whisper. ¡°Momo, whatever you do, don¡¯t speak until I prompt you, alright?¡± ¡°Might be more of a problem to get me to speak at all, actually ¨C¡± ¡°And if her eyes get all big like this,¡± Kasula said, widening her eyes like a bug. ¡°Just think the word potato. Nothing else. Only potato.¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°No time,¡± Kasula said. The guard was leading them in. ¡°Walk.¡± They stepped inside, eyes adjusting to the fluorescent light that bathed the large dressing room. A giant cloud of sweet-smelling perfume wafted out, causing Momo to feel like she was suffocating on roses. Sergeant Gulp gave a salute to the other bodyguards, who all were similarly thin and rabid-eyed, and exited quickly. They were left in a pink-tinted, circular room, absolutely drowned in supernatural clothing and accessories: blouses with sentient spikes, necklaces with blinking googley eyes, heels with¡­ heels on their heels. Sitting at the center of it, reflected a dozen times over by the surrounding mirrors like a hivemind, was a female figure completely coated in rose-colored armor. A rosy helmet, salmon-colored cowboy boots, blushing guantlets with red, spiked bracelets. She sat in a chair that looked like one of those Gamer Thrones you¡¯d find advertised for an exorbitant amount of money online ¨C the well-cushioned, plush, four-wheel drive kind of thing that Dae-hyun was always begging for for Christmas. Not that they even celebrated Christmas. ¡°Is that really you, Kas?¡± Zephyra ¨C and it had to be Zephyra ¨C had the voice of a honeybee. Quick and fast and flighty, but smooth as butter. The moment the words came out of her mouth, Momo was almost choked to death by the Charisma entangled in them. It was like the very syllables were gripping her around the neck, shaking her around, and whispering love me, love me, love me. ¡°I see your color palette remains as subtle as a sledgehammer,¡± Kasula responded in lieu of an answer. She was trying to sound apathetic, but Momo couldn¡¯t help but notice the way her foot was tapping anxiously. ¡°Gods ¨C it¡¯s an assault on my eyes. Pink. Pink everything. I don¡¯t even want to know how much that suit of armor cost. Twelve million elk? Twenty-six million?¡± Zephyra turned slowly in her seat. Her diamond heels scratched along the floor, leaving a jagged, lightning-shaped mark. As she came to face them, she peeled off her helmet, handing it to the guard beside her. He jumped at the opportunity to cradle it in his hands. Although Momo was shy to admit it, she was now, with no excuses, gawking. Zephyra¡¯s face in the plain, fluorescently-lit daylight was the most striking thing she¡¯d ever seen. Her cheekbones looked as if they¡¯d been chiseled by a sculptor; they sat on her face higher than the heavens. An awkward silence hung between the two sisters for a second, but then Zephyra stood, took two steps forward, her shoes clacking like bells against the glass floor. She then embraced Kasula with the full force of an ape, tackling her into a hug that crushed down so violently on the other elf that she struggled to breathe. Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. ¡°You idiot,¡± Zephyra spat, not relenting even an inch despite Kasula¡¯s loud protesting. ¡°The helmet alone is worth one hundred million elk at the very minimum. Did you not spot the crystalline lining? The magically-tinted floral hue? This is what happens when you¡¯re away from home for so long. You lose all common sense. That skull of yours must just be full to the brim with human-made nonsense.¡± Finally, after several more seconds of chiding, she released her. Kasula tried to spit out some sort of comeback, but she was still struggling to get enough air in her lungs. Momo hadn¡¯t expected Zephyra to be so strong. The woman had the physical build of a pin needle, lanky and delicate, but there had to be hidden muscle rippling beneath all that extraneous gear. I guess it takes a lot of muscle mass to walk around dressed like a Barbie-fied Christmas tree. ¡°My skull is just fine,¡± Kasula muttered. ¡°Yours, on the other hand¡­¡± ¡°Have you talked to mom? How are you even alive? Gods, I have so many questions,¡± Zephyra said in a flurry, cutting Kasula off and gripping her arms tightly. ¡°Also, before I forget, fuck you. Fuck you so much, Kas. By Guinevere, I can¡¯t believe you didn¡¯t write or send me a transmission or even a note by bird for six entire years. Six years I¡¯ve been touring around, hopelessly praying my baby sister might show her snide little face in the crowd, but nothing. Dead, sad, embarrassing silence. And yet here you are.¡± Zephyra crossed her arms. She tipped her chin up. ¡°And yet here you are,¡± she repeated wryly. ¡°I can¡¯t help but ask myself what crime I must have committed to deserve the honor.¡± Momo¡¯s mind went to the dagger. She took a subtle look around the room, but the place was too cluttered for any specific thing to look out of place. She would have ordered Dusk to invisibly rummage around in it, but she feared the cat would get noticed. The guards were way too attentive for guys who were probably being paid below minimum wage. ¡°My friend here needs your help,¡± Kasula said, diverting the topic. ¡°Coco, this is Zephyra. Zephyra, this is Coco. Be acquainted, or whatever. No need for all those elvish practicalities.¡± ¡°Tch. You really have lost all your manners,¡± Zephyra said, rolling her eyes. ¡°Coco, ik il via freut du¡¯st. I apologize for my sister¡¯s lack of home training. But with all due respect, before we continue this conversation, I¡¯m going to have to read your mind. It¡¯s simply protocol.¡± ¡°Read my ¨C what?¡± Momo stuttered, cheeks flushing. The elf turned all of her full attention to her, and it was as if a surgical spotlight was suddenly shining down straight onto Momo¡¯s amygdala. She didn¡¯t mutter a spell or anything, she simply gazed at Momo with piercing blue eyes, smiled, blinked, and it was over with. Her mental defenses had been so weak that she had barely even registered the intrusion. Of course, she had forgotten, critically, to think potato. After taking a moment to stare blankly at Momo, Zephyra¡¯s expression changed. It went from bored and annoyed to mildly¡­ intrigued? Whatever it was, Kasula took advantage of the shift in attention. From the corner of Momo¡¯s eye, she could see the elf subtly step backwards. Momo wished at that moment for the power of telepathy; she¡¯d yell very loudly DON¡¯T LEAVE ME WITH HER into Kasula¡¯s synapses until the elf reconsidered her plans. ¡°Huh. Your mind¡­ it is fascinating. Like a tangled web of increasingly ridiculous propositions,¡± Zephyra said, pulling Momo back into her sphere of influence. The elf¡¯s pupils were fully dilated. She licked her lips. ¡°Your name is Momo, yet as a disguise, you call yourself Coco. A truly terrible alias. You¡¯re an alleged queen of a foreign nation, yet you dress like a wayfaring, homeless pirate. You¡¯re a necromancer, yet your mind shivers at the thought of a skeleton. The list of inconsistencies go on and on.¡± Zephyra looked truly vexed, gazing upon Momo as if she was a science experiment. ¡°You must be playing with me. No one¡¯s life is this counterintuitive,¡± the elf said defensively, her mouth flattening into a line. ¡°You have to be counter-broadcasting a thought into my head. Leading me astray of your true nature. But that means your Charisma¡­ It¡¯d have to be far higher than my own to pull off such a maneuver.¡± ¡°I can promise you wholeheartedly I¡¯m not doing anything like that,¡± Momo said miserably, feeling her ego suffering a considerable loss ¨C she thinks I¡¯m so stupid that I have to be some kind of genius ¨C ¡°You¡¯re right, my name is Momo. For whatever reason, I ended up becoming the queen of Aloysius. And I am a necromancer, and I am terrified of skeletons.¡± Zephyra laughed. That sort of laugh that happens when you¡¯re in such disbelief that air just sort of falls out of your lungs by accident. At the same time, a piece of parchment slid through the sphincter-like door, slunked like a snail across the ground, and sat flatly at Momo¡¯s feet.
Congratulations! Using nothing but the sheer power of your garbled brain, you left the individual with the 15th highest Charisma score in the entirety of Alois completely speechless. You heard that right ¨C the whole goddamn planet. As a result, your [Pitied] skill has been upgraded to [Aura of Utter Bewilderment]. In and out of combat, opponents with a low Intelligence score will be Stunned for 5s by their sheer confusion when you speak.
Momo groaned. ¡°Oh, come on.¡± 192 – Missed Call After Zephyra sufficiently recovered from her interaction with Momo¡¯s subconscious, she sat back down, propped her feet up on one of the guard¡¯s shoulders, and sighed. ¡°I have an hour until we have to pack this mess up and get to the next town,¡± she said. ¡°While my sister quite obviously tries to steal from me, why don¡¯t we solve your little problem?¡± In an unsuspecting corner of the room, Kasula froze. For as discreet as she was trying to be in finding the dagger, the room was claustrophobically small, not to mention brightly lit from all angles. But Zephyra didn¡¯t seem to care all that much about her sister¡¯s snooping. She clearly was just happy to have her back in some capacity, no matter how brief or ridiculous the circumstances; it was obvious in the way she kept subtly craning her neck back to look at her; the way she groaned (but still smiled when Kasula wasn¡¯t looking.) As a fellow older sister, Momo knew the expression well: endearing annoyance. ¡°I, uh, I¡¯ve heard you might know what to do with this,¡± Momo stuttered, producing the golden bracelet from her pocket and dangling it in front of Zephyra. The elf cocked an eyebrow and took it in her hand. ¡°I want to be able to send messages back and forth to a long-distance friend of mine. Kasula told me you might be able to help with that.¡± ¡°You have such a big mouth, Kas,¡± Zephyra groaned. ¡°Did you just spend the last six years traveling around Alois with a megaphone airing all of my business? You might want to look for a job with the tabloids. You clearly have a talent for it.¡± ¡°Oh shut up. If I wanted to kill your career, I could do it in an afternoon.¡± Zephyra snorted. Kasula kicked a heap of metallic clothing away with her foot, clattering it across the room, much to the guards¡¯ dismay. They looked to Zephyra to see if they should interfere, but the elf just waved them down. She was treating Kasula like a puppy having a meltdown. Just wait it out, she mouthed to them. She turned her attention to the bracelet and tapped her talon-like fingernails around it. ¡°Grunts, bring me my tools,¡± she ordered. The bodyguards immediately straightened. ¡°Your tools, ma¡¯am?¡± one squeaked, going red in the face. ¡°Of course her tools, you idiot,¡± the other said, but Momo could tell from his face that he, too, also had no clue. Zephyra sighed, muttered ¡°you have to do everything yourself,¡± and turned to what looked like a makeup desk. Blush and foundation littered the surface, but when she pressed a button on the side, a drawer popped out, revealing a variety of miniature, pink instruments: wrenches, tweezers, screwdrivers. It was like an engineering toolkit built for a mouse. Using the ends of her long fingernails as if they were their own apparatus, she extracted the wrench and the tweezers. She also took out a pair of goggles and slid them over her angular cheekbones. She looked, all in all, like a truly out of touch cover model for a women¡¯s engineering magazine. Face fully done, nails longer than king cobra snakes, with her only protective gear being a flimsy pair of swim goggles. The kind of person that the general public would scream at online for setting unrealistic standards for women in STEM. Momo thought she looked awesome. ¡°So, this so-called friend,¡± Zephyra drawled as she began to work on the bracelet. She was picking at it with the tweezers, causing the tiny springs inside to pop in and out. ¡°It has to be someone rather important, or else you wouldn¡¯t have gone to all the trouble. But, before you say it,¡± she turned to Momo, flashing a mad smile. ¡°Entertain me this. I know from experience that it¡¯s really only one of two options. Is it a current lover, or an ex?¡± Momo¡¯s throat went hotter than a forest fire. She nearly fainted from the embarrassment. ¡°Neither! Really, neither,¡± she all but wheezed. The thought had occurred to her to try and wire it to Sumire, but that would require the other girl to have her own bracelet. ¡°It¡¯s my boss. Kind of.¡± Zephyra hummed. ¡°That¡¯s no fun. Not even a boss you¡¯re having a covert affair with?¡± Momo shook her head so hard her neck nearly snapped. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. ¡°Nope. Nope. No affair,¡± she squeaked. ¡°Just a perfectly normal, manager-managee relationship.¡± Momo¡¯s mind wandered to the time Valerica made her deliver a sack of dead bugs to an unknown client while riding on an undead black bear. Their relationship had never, not even in the first hour, been normal. ¡°Right,¡± Zephyra laughed. ¡°Normal. Whatever. I¡¯d read your mind because I¡¯m nosy, but lucky for you, I¡¯m not risking another migraine. Now, what¡¯s this manager¡¯s name? Where does she live? Postal code, address, favorite color? And I¡¯m going to need something she¡¯s touched recently. A hat, a piece of clothing, a whiskey bottle. Anything with her Nether remnants¡ªthey¡¯re the only truly accurate way to lock onto a signal.¡± Luckily, Momo still had those bottles of Nether Nectar that Valerica gifted her. The ones that let her, theoretically, directly visit the Necromage in the Nether. Unfortunately, unlike the bracelet, they were a limited resource, and teleporting to and from the great beyond was less of an option now that Momo had a queendom to run and a doom box to disable. ¡°Here,¡± Momo handed her the bottle. Zephyra eyed it with interest. ¡°This looks expensive,¡± she said, causing a shiver to run down Momo¡¯s spine. A word like that did not come cheaply out of Zephyra¡¯s mouth. ¡°Is this really Nether Nectar?¡± ¡°Um¡­¡± Momo trailed off, not sure if honesty was the best policy around a woman with questionable morals and heaps of nepotism-sponsored blood money. ¡°Maybe.¡± ¡°Opaque as ever, my queen,¡± Zephyra chided. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I have no intention of stealing it. That¡¯s my sister¡¯s domain,¡± she side-eyed Kasula, who was still having no luck wading through the big-budget trash strewn around the room. ¡°But this will do. Give me but a moment.¡± Momo watched in amazement as she began the procedure. Zephyra took a cloth rag out of her toolkit and padded the bottle. Using her miniature pair of scissors, she then cut a small section of the rag, doused the rag in a chemical that smelled suspiciously like bleach, draped it around the bracelet, muttered an incantation, coughed like a chainsmoker as she accidentally inhaled some of the fumes, then set the bracelet back down. ¡°Her name, please?¡± Zephyra quipped. ¡°And be quick, before the effect wears off.¡± ¡°Valerica.¡± ¡°Full name.¡± It occurred to Momo at that moment that it had simply never come up. ¡°I¡­ have no idea.¡± Zephyra frowned. As the seconds clicked on, rancid smelling smoke began to emanate off of the bracelet. Nyk, who had been busy acting apathetic in the doorway, sneezed her lungs out. ¡°Fine, I¡¯ll just have to make do.¡± Zephyra grabbed the tiny, pink screwdriver. ¡°I¡¯ve always relied on a trifecta of magics to rewire these things¡ªpure Nether, gnomic currents, and old-fashioned elvish engineering. If the dwarves ever try and tell you their shit is better, it¡¯s not. It¡¯s practically medieval. But I like to use it as a backup transmission system in case there isn¡¯t enough Nether around to carry the signal the whole way.¡± Momo nodded enthusiastically, not having a single clue what she was on about. ¡°Gods, that smells rank,¡± Kasula said. ¡°Are you repairing that bracelet or are you cooking it alive?¡± ¡°You smell rank,¡± Zephyra growled back, in a truly sisterly fashion. ¡°Now shut up and get back to trying to steal whatever you need to steal, I¡¯m nearly done.¡± A faint white glow emanated from her palm. It was that same white glow that often shone from Kasula¡¯s own hand when she cast magic. It concealed the bracelet briefly, neutralizing the smell. It dissipated after a few seconds, leaving the golden accessory shiny and bright, as if it had just emerged from a car wash. Zephyra picked it up and beckoned for Momo¡¯s wrist. ¡°There,¡± she said. Momo blushed as the elf carefully slung it around her wrist. ¡°Now, time to try it. Simply press the notch underneath here, then the one atop here¡­¡± she guided Momo¡¯s fingers delicately around the device, placing them on infinitesimally small buttons. Momo was grateful for the tutorial, because she would have never found them herself; the bracelet was so obviously made by elves, with all the attention being paid to appearance, and none to function. ¡°Are you pressing down hard enough? It should be working by now,¡± Zephyra said, biting down on her lip in frustration. ¡°I¡¯ve quite literally perfected this operation. I can¡¯t think of a single thing that would make the signal miss, unless the Nether sample was contaminated¡­¡± A voice emerged from the air around Momo¡¯s wrist, cutting Zephyra off. It was a disembodied, static-coated tone, deep and agitated and oddly familiar. The voice brought Momo back in time¡ªtransported her to a dark, dank cavern. Made her think of rotting teeth and kidnapping and confusion and embarrassment. She saw in her mind¡¯s eye a skeleton, quietly obeying commands, a tea light stuck in its ribcage. ¡°Hello? Who is this? Is someone trying to burrow into my skull again? I told you for the last time, I am not interested in donating to Nether-displacement relief funds. The Oblivion Crisis ended minutes ago. Or hours. Or days. I can¡¯t recall. Nevertheless, move on and stop calling this address. If you don¡¯t, I will displace you into the abyss. Goodbye.¡± The air went cold again. The caller had evidently hung up. Momo remained frozen, her finger twitching. Zephyra looked at her in surprise. ¡°Valerica certainly sounds a little different than I expected,¡± she said, matter of fact. ¡°And quite a lot ruder, too.¡± Momo stared at her, a realization slowly crystallizing inside of her. ¡°That¡¯s because that¡¯s not Valerica.¡± 193 – A Realization & A PR Scandal The room went unnaturally quiet as Momo stared at the bracelet. She knew one thing unquestionably: the voice she just heard berating a nonexistent telemarketer belonged to the same man that greeted her during her very first day in Alois. The necromancer who had gone off to deal with some sort of skeletal uprising. She had never heard from him again, never saw him again, never recalled anyone even referencing him. She had half-convinced herself that he had simply been a comforting illusion she concocted, a post-food poisoning coping mechanism. ¡°So I gather that was a failure,¡± Zephyra said. ¡°Sorry to say, but you must have mixed up who gave you that Nectar.¡± ¡°No,¡± Momo said quickly. Her brusqueness caused Zephyra to bristle, and Momo quickly backpedaled. ¡°I ¨C oh, sorry. I just mean, I really didn¡¯t mix them up. Valerica was the one who gave me that bottle. I know it was her. My memory is bad, but not that bad.¡± The possibility had occurred to Momo that the Valerica she saw on the ship that day hadn¡¯t been Valerica at all ¨C an illusion instead, broadcasted by the necromancer from the Dawn¡¯s basement. But that proposition was shortly shot down by common sense. That was Valerica. Momo knew it in her gut. Felt it with her earthly intuition. Also, she doubted anyone, god or mortal, had the acting chops to portray Valerica¡¯s very unique brand of ridiculous. ¡°Could the bottle have passed hands before it got to you?¡± Zephyra probed. ¡°If she bought it off of some merchant recently that scent could be mucking up the signal.¡± Momo frowned. That was plausible. ¡°No idea. But Valerica hasn¡¯t been allowed to leave the Nether since she started her onboarding. So if that guy was the one to give it to her, he¡¯d have to be in the Nether, too. And probably within her inner circle.¡± Nyk bowed her head in through the doorway. True to form, she had been trying her very hardest to be as unhelpful as possible, but it seemed the conversation had reached such a point of aggravation that she could no longer resist. ¡°Gods, I can¡¯t listen to any more of this amateur detective work. That was Azrael, you idiot,¡± she said. ¡°Third Lesser God. Oldest and most maddening of Morgana¡¯s maniac trio. Even before his rise to godhood, he never spent time in Alois. Not after the Dark Calamity. He conducts all his business on other planets, occasionally sending messages through the realms. He constantly treats us dokkaebis like his paper boys. I¡¯ve delivered more packages for that man than he¡¯s taken breaths. That Nether Nectar included.¡± Momo¡¯s eyes widened, goosebumps biting at her skin. ¡°I met him. Here, in Alois," Momo said, recalling the memory. "He was the first face I saw when I arrived. Super gross teeth, had a pet lantern-skeleton. So he... had to have returned to Alois. At least very briefly. He returned to welcome me to the Dawn.¡± Nyk rolled her eyes. ¡°I can assure you he did not,¡± she paused. ¡°At least not physically. I¡¯m sure the man you saw was one of his many throwaway bodies¡ªhence the rotting teeth. He probably sent a signal to it from some faraway planet, animated the corpse for a few minutes, then dropped it off in a ditch outside. As for why he decided to talk to you, I can¡¯t answer that. Just consider yourself lucky. The man can very rarely be bothered to even talk to the dokkaebis who deliver his groceries.¡± The information rummaged around Momo¡¯s mind, not quite finding the right filing cabinet to sort into. ¡°Okay,¡± she said, ultimately, lacking anything better. ¡°Even if I can¡¯t talk to Valerica, I guess he¡¯s sort of the second best thing.¡± ¡°Good luck getting him to pick up the call,¡± Nyk said. ¡°He probably blocked you.¡± Mortified, Momo turned to Zephyra. ¡°Can people block you with a bracelet?¡¯ ¡°Of course not,¡± Zephyra huffed. ¡°Catwalk Communicators were literally designed as harassment devices. They¡¯re made in bulk by elvish modeling companies in order for managers to have a twenty-four-seven line of communication with their employees ¨C aka, underpaid models. You can never refuse calls. All you can do is reroute signals.¡± Momo nodded, relieved. She¡¯d try calling him again later once she had given her mind a chance to process this overwhelming amount of information. ¡°Now, about payment.¡± Zephyra closed her toolkit drawer with a click, removed her goggles, and fixed Momo with a terrifying smile. Momo blinked quickly, like one might while staring into the sun. ¡°What?¡± Zephyra said, licking her lips. ¡°You don¡¯t think I did that work for free, did you?¡± ¡°Oh, um, of course not,¡± Momo said. She absolutely had thought that. ¡°But I thought since I¡¯m your sister¡¯s friend and all¨C¡± ¡°Please. My sister isn¡¯t even my friend. You, Queen Momo, are even less than that: still a stranger,¡± Zephyra informed her casually. ¡°Not to mention a queen. Queens have funds. Lots of funds. Hordes of gold and shiny treasure. Tragically, tour tends to limit my ability to get out and purchase new shiny things. It¡¯s a real shame.¡± Zephyra looked at her with the intensity of a ray gun. Momo made herself smaller instinctually¡ªher hands crumpled into her stomach, her shoulders folded inward. She wasn¡¯t even doing it cognizantly. The effects of Zephyra¡¯s Charisma were so strong that Momo¡¯s body moved of its own accord. It was not isolated to the body; she immediately began to lose agency over her own thoughts, too, finding herself thinking of ways she could best make it up to her: how much gold she could reasonably part with, which of her favorite doo-dads she could stuff in a sack and present to her like a gift to the Gods. Momo bit down hard on her lip. Bit so hard that it bled. Snap out of it, she thought desperately. Don¡¯t do anything stupid. She hadn¡¯t had any time to check the stats in her Ruler System lately. Or had the time to hire an economic advisor. For all she knew, the price of gold had inflated like a hot air balloon back home. She couldn¡¯t risk making huge donations to foreign models just because they wanted her to. Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. ¡°[Focus],¡± Momo whispered under her breath. ¡°What was that?¡± Zephyra said, extending one of her talons to pick up Momo¡¯s chin. She ran her thumb across the skin delicately. ¡°Did you say something?¡± ¡°What¡¯s your price?¡± Momo choked out. It took every cell in her body not to crumple under the woman¡¯s touch. Even [Focus], which usually acted as an all-encompassing salve to her impulsiveness, barely made a dent in her swimming thoughts. The System hadn¡¯t been joking. This woman had clearly earned her spot as 15th most charismatic person in the realms¡ªher vibes were absolutely smothering. ¡°Grunt,¡± Zephyra said, turning her head to one of the anxiety-ridden guardsmen. ¡°What does two million elk translate to in Aloysian currency?¡± ¡°Roughly one hundred thousand gold, ma¡¯am.¡± Zephyra turned to her and silently raised an eyebrow. It was more than a provocation¡ªit was a command. That was the price tag, and she wasn¡¯t budging. Momo sighed in relief. That was a lot of money, sure, but it wouldn¡¯t bankrupt the nation or anything. Last time she looked at the capital¡¯s liquid funds, there was at least seven hundred thousand in there. She could part with a seventh of that and only have to beg a medium-sized amount of forgiveness from Sumire. Probably. Just as she was about to open her Ruler System and make the transaction, Momo paused. What the hell? She internally accosted herself. Why am I even considering this? The tiny, truly miniscule part of her brain that remained uninfluenced by Zephyra¡¯s charm was protesting loudly. It hijacked her nervous system and froze her in place, but she still wasn¡¯t able to will her lips to actually disagree. The oppressive nature of Zephyra¡¯s Charisma clamped around her willpower like a heavy metal claw. Using what little executive function she had left, Momo willed her eyes to look at Nyk, silently begging for her to interfere. ¡°This is none of my business,¡± Nyk said. ¡°I¡¯m here to escort you to Lione. Not to solve your glaring financial issues. For what it¡¯s worth, though, I think you should give her the money.¡± Nyk¡¯s eyes widened as the last sentence left her mouth. Momo recognized that expression ¨C the words had fallen off her tongue unprovoked, as if scripted there by a ghostwriter. Clearly the dokkaebi was not immune to the elf¡¯s Charisma either. It had to be at Expert level or beyond. ¡°Here it is. Gods, you really are a hoarder,¡± Kasula said, breaking the tense silence. The elf was holding up what looked like a black leather suitcase. The suitcase had a fresh, glaring hole in the middle, cut haphazardly into with a knife. Shining inside the dissected suitcase was the unmistakable silhouette of the Soul Splitting Dagger. It glowed like a diamond, blindingly reflective. It had taken the entirety of their painful conversation, but Kasula had finally found it. With a roll of her eyes, Zephyra turned her attention back to her sister. The spell broke its chokehold on Momo, and she inhaled sharply, suddenly regaining agency over her own thoughts and limbs. She took the opportunity to shuffle towards the door, but the guards flew to blockade her way, crossing their spears in front of the glass sphincter. ¡°You won¡¯t be running out on Ms. Ren, kid,¡± said the skinnier of the two sternly. ¡°Not a chance,¡± the other added. ¡°We¡¯ve sworn our lives to her bottom line.¡± ¡°That¡¯s what you¡¯ve been after this whole time?¡± Zephyra asked Kasula, not paying the least amount of attention to Momo¡¯s sad escape attempt. ¡°The silly dagger? You could have just asked. It¡¯s total garbage, anyway. The Count told me it could up my Charisma points by ten, but I¡¯ve already hit the System max. It didn¡¯t do shit but weigh down my hand, and my nails are already their own set of dumbbells.¡± ¡°You seriously bought this off Count Marzipan?¡± Kasula said, mouth wide in disbelief. ¡°I was really hoping you were smarter than that. It¡¯s an illegal good made from wraiths, which, as you should know, are a heavily protected species in The Mists. There are dozens of orc trackers looking for this exact item right now. And I can tell you with complete certainty that not a single one of them would be afraid to leak it to the tabloids that you were the one who had it.¡± Zephyra froze, blinking slowly. She looked as if someone had suddenly pushed her off balance. "What are you talking about?" she said quietly. "It''s not made of wraiths. Those teeth on the edge.... they''re just ornamental." "Now who has the undiscerning eye for merchandise?" Kasula said. She ran her finger across one of the teeth until it bled - a gaudy, but effective, persuasion attempt. "These are real, Zef. Real enough to kill your career if you aren''t careful." Zephyra opened her mouth, then closed it. Then opened it again. ¡°I didn¡¯t buy it. He.... The count... gifted it to me,¡± she said, holding a hand to her lips. ¡°Said it was some dwarven creation. That I had a fan from Deepgrove who wanted to show his appreciation. I ¨C I have groupies everywhere. I¡¯m constantly getting gifts like this. It wasn''t unusual.¡± Zephyra took a shaky step backwards, her fingers trembling as she sat in her chair. ¡°Shit, shit, shit,¡± she said, her typically neutral face growing more and more distraught by the second. ¡°The bastard set me up.¡± ¡°Yup,¡± Kasula agreed, frowning. ¡°Let me guess, he gifted it to you just before the cover shoot for the posters outside, didn¡¯t he? He probably kept insisting on how much it suited your outfit. How you¡¯d be silly not to make it part of the debut look.¡± Zephyra nodded coldly, completely frozen by shock. Kasula scowled. ¡°Total bastard. He made it so you¡¯d incriminate yourself. He probably made a deal with the elvish tabloids, sold them an unbelievable story about you and your illicit dealings with artifacts made of endangered wildlife. I¡¯m sure it¡¯ll hit the news broadcasts in a few days, just as your tour is peaking. I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if the Count is found dead a few days after. Another disposable tool of one of the other Beau Id¨¦al families.¡± ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter. This will ruin my career,¡± Zephyra said breathlessly. ¡°Mother will disown me, naturally. Insist she knew nothing and wash her hands of the whole affair.¡± ¡°No she won¡¯t,¡± Kasula said, her frown deepening. Kasula¡¯s apathetic fa?ade from before had vanished completely. Raw anger sat on her features; fury at the count, at her mother; fury at the prospect of her sister going through the same thing she once did, Momo imagined. ¡°She loves you. You¡¯re literally everything she ever wanted you to be. They¡¯ll figure out a way to run the PR on this, I¡¯m sure. Make it all out to be a huge misunderstanding.¡± Zephyra smiled at her sister sadly. Just watching the exchange, Momo was on the brink of tears. The elf woman¡¯s Charisma provoked an overwhelming amount of displaced empathy in her. Momo wasn¡¯t an uncaring person by any means, but it was as if she had suddenly just absorbed fifteen tearjerker films back to back. But more than that, more than any psychological misery the System could ever subject her to, Momo saw something else when she looked at the pair of them. She saw her own stupid little brother. Swatting away the rational voice in the back of her head that told her she had larger issues to address ¨C catastrophic, world-ending sort of issues ¨C she rashly stepped forward. "I think I have a way to settle our debt," Momo said. "And let you keep your career." Zephyra looked at her skeptically, but a glimmer of hope shone in her eye. "Oh? And how do you intend to do that?" she said coldly. "By tanking my approval ratings," Momo said, feeling Sumire''s overwhelming disapproval from an ocean away. "Just a little bit." 194 – A Momo Plan Momo was yet again engaging in what some may call a Momo plan. AKA¡ªanything that would simultaneously give Grimli fatal stress hives, would get a nervous laugh out of Sumire, and would make Valerica very, very proud. ¡°Are you sure this guy is a painter?¡± Momo said skeptically, waving around the Soul Splitting dagger. She was sitting on a small wooden stool in a dimly lit alleyway just outside the town¡¯s central market. They had chosen the market as the location for two main reasons: one, it had the highest volume of people willing to do ridiculous jobs for little pay, and two: Momo had been hungry at the time she made the call. After stuffing her face full of samosas, Momo, Nyk, Kasula, and a burly, bare-chested man with an apron and an easel took to the backstreets. Zephyra was left back at the arena for obvious reasons: having her this close to the public would be a recipe for all-out bedlam; Momo was not keen on setting the circumstances for a JFK-style assassination here in Karahtan. ¡°I found him and grabbed him off the street in under fifteen minutes,¡± Nyk said. ¡°Sue me if I wasn¡¯t able to verify his credentials. He has an easel and a paintbrush, what more does he need?¡± ¡°The ability to paint, perhaps,¡± Kasula interjected, frowning. She still hadn¡¯t fully bought into Momo¡¯s plan. Which was fine, of course, because neither had Momo. ¡°He has to deliver a photorealistic still of Momo and the dagger in under an hour. Right now, he¡¯s painting what I can only assume is supposed to be a dog on¡­ a bicycle?¡± Momo looked over at his canvas. It had three red circles, one of which had ears and a snout. She frowned. ¡°Just trust the process, Kasula,¡± she said, choosing to ignore the drawing. ¡°Great art takes time.¡± ¡°Time we don¡¯t have,¡± Kasula muttered. ¡°Seven minute,¡± the painter grunted. ¡°All I need.¡± Kasula looked at him skeptically. ¡°Seven minutes? To go from that,¡± she gestured her hands wildly at the canvas. ¡°To this?¡± she pointed at Momo, who straightened in her stool. ¡°Seven minute,¡± he reiterated. He then got a thoughtful look on his face. ¡°And orange juice.¡± Momo looked towards Nyk expectantly. The dokkaebi slapped her hand over her face. ¡°To think I used to do useful things,¡± she groaned. ¡°Like assassinating people.¡± ¡ª ¡°What in the Gods do they put in the orange juice here?!¡± Kasula gaped. The trio stood behind the easel in absolute, paralyzing shock. In front of them was a masterpiece that would have made Richard Estes weep. A work of true photorealism, so harrowingly accurate that it made Momo feel as if she was looking into a mirror for the first time in her life. Her raggedy white hair, her vampiric porcelain skin, her brown eyes which had gone heterochromatic with a mix of hazel and blue. And, of course, the shining dagger in her right hand. Everything was visually accurate except for the backdrop. They had forced the painter to replace the dark and sandy alleyways of Karahtan with the blossoming fields outside Morganium. Momo had gone to great lengths to hide her presence in the Vagrant Dunes ¨C and more importantly, her absence in her own queendom ¨C and she was not about to ruin all that just because of a little Charisma-inspired psychological warfare. ¡°Was not the orange juice,¡± the painter clarified, his voice still as monotone as cardboard. He sloshed around the mug of freshly squeezed fruit juice Nyk had fetched for him. ¡°I am Expert Portrait Artist. I do work for you because this one has [Patron of the Arts] skill. You are appreciator of the arts. I appreciate you.¡± He had his mug pointed to Momo, who blushed. She had forgotten about that skill. She got it when rising to level 3 in Artist¡ªit caused great artists to flock to her. ¡°I appreciate you, too,¡± she said, and gave him a heaping tip of one hundred gold pieces. She¡¯d rather her gold went to the working artists of Karahtan than some capitalist elf queen. ¡°Please buy yourself some clothes with this.¡± This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. ¡°I prefer just apron,¡± he said, staring at her blankly as he packed up his materials. ¡°Must feel the winds of inspiration under me in order to harness the great fluidity of the brush stroke.¡± With that piece of grand poetry, he was off. After a moment, Kasula cleared her throat, and brought their attention back to the artwork again. ¡°I can¡¯t believe I¡¯m saying this, but I think your ridiculous plan might actually work,¡± she said, gobsmacked. ¡°With this as collateral, Zephyra can get ahead of the tabloids by saying she was using a fake version of the dagger to protest the abuse of wraiths. Then if they accuse her of lying, you can come out with this photo and say you, in a partnership with the Elven Empire, stole the real weapon off the market in an effort to curtail wraith-hunting in the Mists. Gods, it¡¯s so wholesome and peachy I might just throw up¡ªhave you thought of being a Public Relations Specialist?¡± Momo shrugged modestly. She had barely considered even graduating high school back when she was debating majors, so, no. ¡°Didn¡¯t you say this would tank your approval ratings?¡± Nyk said, chewing boredly on one of Momo¡¯s leftover samosas. ¡°Seems like it might do the opposite. Who¡¯s going to hate the queen who¡¯s saving the wildlife? I mean, besides me.¡± Momo bit her lip. Admittedly, she had just assumed things would go wrong. That just seemed to be how things went. ¡°I guess I was just being pessimistic,¡± she mumbled. Nyk bit into the samosa again and rolled her eyes. ¡°Finally. Welcome to the club.¡± ¡ª With the painting safely deposited in Momo¡¯s backpack, Kasula went back to her sister¡¯s place, taking the dagger with her and leaving Momo and Nyk in the back alleys. Momo didn¡¯t particularly care what happened to the dagger now; she only cared that Zephyra was happy. (Okay ¨C lie. Momo didn¡¯t really care what state of mind the wealthiest, most charismatic elf this side of Alois was in; she just really wanted to keep that bracelet. She knew in her gut that it¡¯d come in handy soon. And, for the sake of her own continued survival, she also didn¡¯t want an elf death squad showing up at her doorway.) With that out of the way, Momo returned to the task at hand. She slipped her hand into her coat pocket, gripping the black cube. She could hear the faint screams radiating from within it. They ran up her nerve endings, shot around her veins like live wire. Vivienne¡¯s words kept haunting her, circling her brain like piranhas. ¡°Sera¡­ she must be waiting for something.¡± ¡°I wish she could have been a little more specific,¡± Momo muttered quietly. ¡°Are you talking to yourself again?¡± Nyk said, exhausted. ¡°Or are you doing something else weird and unnecessary?¡± Momo rolled her eyes, ignoring the comment. ¡°Come on,¡± she said. ¡°Time to do what Valerica hired you for.¡± ¡ª As it turned out, Dusk was a lot more helpful than Nyk in hunting down Lione. After giving the cat a sniff of the letter, Momo activated [Hunt the Trail]. The cat pounced into action, tail stiff like an icicle as she weaved through the Karahtan townspeople. They haphazardly sailed through the marketplace, Momo apologizing as she elbowed merchants, tripped over golden vases, and dug her dirty heels into beige carpets. The farther they delved inwards, the more Momo became aware that the city was simply a grid of archways and columns. The pattern repeated itself over and over, only differentiated by the kinds of people and goods sitting under those looming arches¡ªsometimes florists, with their teethy, chomping desert plants, other times children, using magic to ride along sand dunes or bend sandstone and dirt into small, lively sculptures. But every long archway ended somewhere, and they all ended at The Wall. The giant barricade that Momo had been led through initially. Everywhere Momo looked, guards were lazily emerging from portholes in the giant structure. The city felt like a relaxed panopticon; the police, while plentiful, spent most of their time idle chit chatting or playing board games with the old merchants in the streets, gambling away a day¡¯s salary and then earning it back the next match. ¡°Who do all these guys report to anyway?¡± Momo said, out of breath as she jogged behind the cat. ¡°I just realized I have zero idea who¡¯s in charge here.¡± ¡°Why would I know?¡± Nyk shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m a dokkaebi. Alois is just one of a hundred worlds in my domain. All I know about this place is from the replicant areas that show up in the Nether.¡± ¡°Really?¡± Momo said, eyes wide. ¡°Wait, what¡¯s a replicant area?¡± ¡°Sometimes I forget you¡¯re not a natural-borne dokkaebi,¡± Nyk sighed. ¡°Replicant areas are places in the Nether that look like other places. The Nether isn¡¯t really a place at all, it¡¯s just a collection of energy that has nowhere else to go. So when a lot of souls from the same place end up there, their combined memories tend to create a replicant area.¡± Momo remembered the New York City subway station that she and Morgana visited. She remembered the Subway restaurant. Even the Creation of the Universe Museum wasn¡¯t quite a place¡ªit felt much more like a memory. A distant fragment of Momo¡¯s terribly uneventful middle school experience. Thinking of Earth, a twitch of memory crossed Momo¡¯s mind. ¡°Those other hundred planets in your domain,¡± she said quietly. ¡°Is Earth one of them?¡± The permanently annoyed frown on Nyk¡¯s face faltered. She gave Momo a short, studying look. Something that almost verged on pity. After a moment, she answered, the irritated lilt in her voice notably absent. ¡°Yes,¡± she said. ¡°It is.¡± A shock of adrenaline coursed through Momo. A hundred questions flitted through her mind like cracks of lightning¡ªhow often do you visit? Where on Earth have you been? Do you ever go to California? What about San Francisco? Could I¡­ go there too?¨Cjust as Dusk came to a startling halt in front of a dark, somber doorway. A nondescript apartment in a series of hundreds. On the door, a plaque hung: L. Baumfreund ¡°Huh,¡± Nyk whistled. ¡°Looks like we¡¯re here.¡± 195 – Lione Baumfreund’s New Digs A wooden knocker sat on Lione¡¯s front door. Just as Momo was about to slam it hard on the plaque, her bracelet did something unexpected ¡ª it spoke. ¡°Report, Bellafor?¡± Momo froze, her knuckles stilling on the doorway. An immediate chill rocketed down her spine; that was Nia¡¯s voice, unmistakably. Momo went immediately silent, motioning to Nyk to do the same with a finger over her mouth. The dokkaebi rolled her eyes and tapped her wrist as if it was wearing a watch, but she ultimately complied. Outside of her and Momo, the alleyway was as eerily quiet as a rundown mall. Not even a bird was chirping. ¡°Ugh ¨C Gods, come on, Viv,¡± Nia said. ¡°Just answer me already, damn it. Stop being so petty.¡± Nia¡¯s voice was strained. It seemed exhausted. Momo was momentarily confused how she was receiving this transmission at all, until she remembered how the devices operated. These things are like cell phones without block lists. As long as you had someone¡¯s Nether phone number, you could always and forever send them a transmission. All Zephyra had done was add a new address to the bracelet¡¯s personal address book, not remove any. Everyone who had previously contacted Vivienne was still able to do so. ¡°Come on, Viv,¡± Nia repeated after a moment, her voice smaller than before. ¡°This whole operation is a mess without you. You know I¡¯m shit at running things. The new kid, Trent, he¡¯s a straight up bad press machine ¨C he beats up everything indiscriminately: necromancers, knights, pet chickens ¨C he¡¯s tanking our approval ratings with the populace like crazy. Sera can¡¯t stand him, tried to strike him with lightning the other day, but he danced out of the way at the last second. There¡¯s so much useless internal politics going on, it¡¯s making me nostalgic for when Sera¡¯s biggest plans were trying to blow up our neighbors.¡± I guess that confirms where Trent ran off to. Momo shook her head. Part of her desperately wanted to tell Nia the truth: that Vivienne wanted to reconcile, that she had only left the Holy Resistance to protect her, hoping she¡¯d follow her out. A considerably larger part of Momo was just grateful to hear the movement was in shambles. It was one less thing on Momo¡¯s giant platter of anxieties. She stayed silent. ¡°I¡¯ve got to go,¡± Nia said. Momo heard commotion in the background. It sounded like the clopping of hooves. ¡°Also, don¡¯t think I can¡¯t hear you heavy breathing on the other side. You sound like a wheezing gorilla. You should probably get that checked out.¡± Momo blushed in embarrassment and held her breath. Nia chuckled amusedly to herself, then paused. The other side of the line went momentarily silent. ¡°Okay. Look, I¡¯m still pissed at you. But I feel the need to tell you this, for whatever fucking reason. That article you interviewed for? It never left the presses,¡± Nia said. ¡°Komodo has connections down at the Gazette, so you can bet Sera caught wind of it. A head full of snakes washed up on the shores of Mekna the next morning. The whole town thinks some pirate crew did it ¨C some shmucks called the Mandrake¡¯s Revenge. Apparently the boat left the shores around the same time as Kelly¡¯s pretty little head bobbed up to the beachside. The Mekna Watch has a twenty-four seven crew out there with crossbows and pitchforks just waiting for the ship to dock again. So if that was you on that boat, you better not think of taking it back home. They¡¯ll have your head, too.¡± Another beat of silence. Momo¡¯s neck bobbed as she desperately held her breath. ¡°I made Sera promise she wouldn¡¯t kill you,¡± Nia whispered. ¡°But I can¡¯t stop someone else from trying. So, I don¡¯t know, stay safe, okay? And if you want to come back, if you want to finish what we started¡­¡± A clattering, metallic sound came from Nia¡¯s side of the call. She mumbled shit, then the line went dark, leaving Momo motionless in the silent alleyway. Her mind reeled at Nia¡¯s words. ¡°Oh my god,¡± Momo mumbled when her voice finally returned. ¡°Sera killed Kelly Kraken.¡± ¡°Kelly who?¡± Nyk said. ¡°What kind of name is Kraken?¡± ¡°She was a journalist at the Mekna Gazette. The one Vivienne and I both gave interviews to,¡± Momo said, dread climbing up her neck. ¡°And if Viv¡¯s article didn¡¯t go out, mine definitely went down the gutter. Sera would have made sure of that. Oh man. This is bad. Really bad.¡± Momo dug her hands through her hair. She squinted painfully. Her head throbbed. ¡°Gods, can you please chill out? You¡¯re wound up so tight it¡¯s giving me indigestion by association,¡± Nyk said, giving Momo an almost pitying look. ¡°What was so important about your little interview?¡± Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. ¡°It was my announcement that I was canceling my tour,¡± Momo said miserably, her eyes still shut tight. ¡°And my whole coverup plan. Without it, it looks like I just silently abandoned the people of Aloysius, stole off back to Morganium, and never showed my face again. I ¨C I don¡¯t even want to look at my approval numbers. No wonder Jarva started sending scouting parties towards the capital. He must think I ghosted the place and left it defenseless.¡± Nyk bit her lip. ¡°Alright, yeah, I¡¯ll give it to you. That¡¯s not ideal.¡± With a deafening explosion, the door to Lione¡¯s apartment flew off its hinges and lit up into smoke. Its burnt, prickly lumber shot towards Momo, sending her barreling backwards. Her spine collided directly with the opposite wall. Black, greasy smoke puffed throughout the entire alleyway. Nyk grimaced, brushing stray pieces of debris off her shoulder. ¡°Robert!¡± an exhausted feminine voice called out. ¡°Damnit, I just got that door put back on.¡± ¡°Uurgh,¡± Momo groaned, her ears ringing as if she¡¯d just been hit by a missile. A ten foot tall, vaguely human-shaped glob of green gelatin bent over, stuck his head through the door-hole, and then exited into the alleyway. He had no nose or mouth, no extremities like fingers or toes. His only defining feature was the shirt that was wrapped around his undulating torso, with the writing SERVICE DOG: DO NOT PET embroidered on the front. From behind him came a woman, as prim and proper as the Queen of England, with her shining blonde hair and a face completely plastered with smoking ash. ¡°Oh, Momo,¡± she said, with the least amount of surprise. ¡°It¡¯s only you. Why didn¡¯t you just knock?¡± ¡ª Lione led them inside, dragging Robert back in by his slimy right hand. They were brought into a simple and modest foyer, which had a bench, a hanger for coats, a shoe rack, and a guest book. No names had been written in the guest book. Another door led to what Momo presumed to be the rest of the apartment, but Lione didn¡¯t lead them through it. It was blockaded by a wooden plank that had to be lifted out of the way. ¡°What can I do for you?¡± she said, forcing Robert to sit on the bench as she stared at Momo and Nyk. ¡°I can only assume it¡¯s because Sera has done something irrevocably terrible, but my therapist has repeatedly suggested that I take a more optimistic approach to things.¡± ¡°Oh, um,¡± Momo said, briefly floundering. Her head was still pounding with the combination of pain, nausea, and anxiety. Nia¡¯s unpleasant revelations plus getting nailed into a sandstone wall were not a particularly fond mixture. ¡°Well¡­¡± ¡°Your therapist sounds like an idiot,¡± Nyk interjected, impatient. ¡°You¡¯re correct. Sera is building something that¡¯s going to turn Morgana¡¯s domain into a ghost town.¡± She frowned, seemingly annoyed with herself. ¡°Pun not intended. Anyway. My new and chronically inefficient cousin here has been tasked with trying to stop that from happening. I¡¯ve been tasked with making sure she doesn¡¯t blow up. Can you help, or not?¡± ¡°Is that so?¡± Lione said quietly. ¡°The things in my letter really did come to pass?¡± ¡°Unfortunately,¡± Momo murmured. ¡°But we think we can still stop it. If we act fast.¡± Lione stared blankly ahead for a moment. A shadow of something fell over her impassive face. Momo couldn¡¯t decipher exactly what it was¡ªglee? Terror? Distrust?¡ªeither way, it passed as quickly as it came. The woman turned to Robert, and gestured towards the doorway. ¡°Robbie. Be a dear and remove the plank,¡± she instructed. ¡°We have matters to discuss that require a little more space than this foyer allows.¡± ¡ª ¡°Your place. It¡¯s, um¡­¡± Momo trailed off. ¡°Homey.¡± It was clear that the foyer had been a front. A very convincing front, so much so that Momo nearly let out a shrill gasp when they traveled down the stairs into the basement floor of the apartment. It was a neat person¡¯s nightmare. The floors were cluttered with paper, namely ginormous, five by five foot blueprints, heaps of scientific notebooks, artistic scrawlings, and crumpled alchemic recipes. Above the mess of paper were tables, equally stacked with scientific instruments and heavy looking water tanks. The entire place smelled of salt and sulfur. There was no bed, at least not one that Momo could see. No couch or fridge or chest or dinner table. If Lione had been trying to escape her past life, she had utterly failed. All that was missing was a giant mansion and a few zombies. And at least in Baumfreund Manor, her crazy had enough space to stretch its legs ¨C here, it was compacted into a landfill of derangement. Lione pushed the trash away just enough to reveal a set of wooden chairs. ¡°Sit,¡± she instructed. ¡°I¡¯ll bring out some tea.¡± At a complete loss for words, Momo sat. Robert sat across from her, taking up two seats. Nyk opted to stand. ¡°This is the woman we¡¯re trusting the death box with?¡± Nyk muttered immediately as Lione was out of earshot. ¡°I¡¯ve seen a lot of crazy in the Nether¡ªand I mean a lot¡ªbut this is just an entire heaping mess of red flags. Not to mention Mr. Goo Guy over here.¡± Robert stared politely at Nyk, offering no defense. Part of his arm drizzled onto the floor. ¡°Don¡¯t be like that. She¡¯s reformed,¡± Momo said defensively, thinking back to the letter. ¡°I think,¡± she added weakly. The room wasn¡¯t inspiring much confidence. Still, Momo didn¡¯t exactly have any other options. There was a possibility that Azrael might know something, but his loyalties remained unclear to Momo. And the possibility of even getting him on the phone was slim. ¡°Look, she¡¯s the closest thing we have to talking directly to Sera,¡± Momo continued. ¡°Deranged or not, she¡¯ll have crucial information. We just have to pick our words carefully.¡± ¡°Or pick our weapon carefully,¡± Nyk grumbled. Just as Momo was about to scold her, Lione appeared in front of them again, holding a wide saucer with three cups of fizzling green liquid. The tea smelled like a corpse that had been boiled in a rice cooker. Lione smiled with all her pearly white teeth as she set the plate down in front of them. ¡°Now,¡± she said, taking a seat next to Robert. ¡°Where should we begin?¡± 196 – Marked For Death As Lione stared at her in wide-eyed silence, Momo contemplated how to best frame the discussion. Given the woman¡¯s obvious state of mental disarray, it didn¡¯t seem wise to just dive right in and hand over the all-killing death cube. But Momo also didn¡¯t come here to just sit and lie to the woman¡¯s face. If she was going to get the information she required, she needed Lione to be honest with her. On purpose or by accident, Momo didn¡¯t care. In absence of a table, Momo took one of the teacups off the platter, handed it to Robert, and then unfurled Lione¡¯s letter in its vacancy. ¡°Thank you for the tea, but I¡¯m good, actually. Super hydrated. What I really want to talk about is this line you wrote here,¡± Momo said, creasing the parchment with her thumb. ¡°The thing you and Sera were never able to create. The Wraith Box, you called it. You said it wasn¡¯t possible, that it couldn¡¯t be achieved¡ªat least not on this plane of existence.¡± Lione gazed at the page. Momo noticed that an odd, hazy cloud of gray hung over her eyes as she studied her own words. Her pupils were small, unfocused, flitting around her eye like a fruit fly stuck in a mason jar. It seemed almost as if she had never seen the letter before. In place of a verbal response, she plucked a tea cup off the platter, drank the noxious green liquid, and exhaled. Puffs of boiling steam exited through her nostrils. ¡°Want to hear a fun fact?¡± she said. Momo¡¯s question seemed of no consequence to her. ¡°This tea is made from the same nethergel as Robert. Hence the color. Cool, right? You shouldn¡¯t be scared of it. It¡¯s completely edible. I designed it to mirror the earthly Aloe Vera plant. Of course, it¡¯s not an exact copy, so there is a slight chance of paralysis from the waist down. But the chance really is slight, I assure you. Something in the point zero zero realm.¡± Lione bent the cup in Momo¡¯s direction, offering her a sip. Momo smiled politely at her and shook her head no, internally horrified. She enjoyed having full access to her limbs at all times, especially around people of unreliable sanity. ¡°Oh come on, it¡¯s just a sip,¡± Lione insisted, bringing the cup to Momo¡¯s lips and pressing lightly. ¡°I¡¯m sure you need it after spending all that time in the hot desert. You must be so dehydrated. Come on. Please.¡± In a flash of abrupt violence, Nyk slapped the teacup out of Lione¡¯s hands, sending it cratering towards the ground. Momo expected to hear it shatter, but the sheer amount of paper coating the floors muffled its fall. The cup simply rolled and rolled, eventually coming to a stop and laying in a soggy pool of its own liquid. ¡°Well,¡± Lione interjected, frowning mildly. ¡°That was impolite.¡± Nyk unsheathed a knife from her garter, brazenly holding it an inch from Lione¡¯s throat. ¡°Look, lady, we¡¯ve spent a lot of time prancing around the desert, and I¡¯m getting really tired of following this pipsqueak around. So you can either help us out with the deadly little riddle in Momo¡¯s pocket, or we¡¯ll find ways to make you talk. Your pick.¡± That¡¯s weird, Momo thought, observing Lione¡¯s physical reaction to the threat. The expression on her face didn¡¯t change a bit, but her hands balled into fists, her cheeks went hot red, the hairs on her arms stood on edge, her throat bobbed uncomfortably. The threat seemed to register in her body, but not in her mind. It was like watching someone in a coma fight off a looming grizzly bear. Either the woman was heavily traumatized, holding back her rage for unknown reasons, or under some kind of spell. With Momo¡¯s luck¡ªprobably all three. Momo got up from her chair and pushed Nyk¡¯s knife off of Lione¡¯s throat. The dokkaebi reluctantly let her. Lione didn¡¯t seem grateful, or like she even noticed. ¡°Nyk, please be quiet,¡± Momo whispered harshly. ¡°Lione, you can talk at your own pace. Sip your tea, take your time. I know it¡¯s been a difficult few months for you. Blob-death, jail, therapy, redemption arc, moving continents. I¡¯d be having a meltdown like twenty-four seven. I¡¯m honestly just impressed.¡± Momo glanced at Nyk. ¡°And I¡¯m sorry for Nyk¡¯s behavior,¡± she added. ¡°She¡¯s just¡­ like that.¡± Nyk snarled. Momo ignored her, turning her head again to maintain eye contact with Lione. Eventually, after several, awkward seconds, the duchess broke from her haze. Her pupils cleared, dilating back to a normal size. She blinked several times, as if exiting a dream. ¡°Huh. Odd. I was just in the kitchen, and now I¡¯m¡­¡± she gazed at her lap, seemingly surprised to see herself sitting in a chair. ¡°No apology necessary. I thank you for waking me up. I was in quite the daze. When did I¡­ get here?¡± The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. Momo¡¯s eyebrows rose. ¡°Waking you up? Were you sleeptalking? And you invited us inside a few minutes ago. Robert broke your door down, well, exploded it, then you led us down here.¡± ¡°I see. And no, not quite like sleeptalking, but more so like talking while being drugged with eighteen shots of distilled nether nectar,¡± Lione said, wincing as she massaged her temples. ¡°It¡¯s Sera¡¯s presence. It hopelessly warps my mind. Instantly undoes all the progress I¡¯ve worked so hard to achieve in therapy.¡± Her eyes fell towards Momo¡¯s lower torso, near where the box lay in her pocket. ¡°I can feel her presence here, now, sitting somewhere within you,¡± she said, eyes fixed to Momo¡¯s robe. ¡°I started feeling its effects a few days ago. Likely ever since you arrived in town. It¡¯s just been so incredibly potent. It probably seems difficult to believe, but my house was in perfect form until just last weekend. All my ingredients were properly stored, my experiments organized. Now it just looks as if a hurricane passed through. Every time I try and clean, I just wake up in the same situation again. Under Robert¡¯s pitying gaze, with a pounding headache.¡± She gestured towards the perimeter of the room, where storage containers, drawers, cabinets, and wicker baskets were all laid about, their wooden innards exposed like gore. Momo even noticed a bed she hadn¡¯t seen before. It was half-broken, the headboard concave. It certainly didn¡¯t look slept in. ¡°Anyways. That riddle in your pocket that your companion mentioned,¡± Lione said. ¡°That must be it, isn¡¯t it? The source of the presence. Show me it, please.¡± Momo reflexively reached for the cube. She could feel it pulse uncomfortably, like a continuous electric shock of Mana; it was as if the souls trapped inside were screaming louder than usual. Something about this apartment ¨C or likelier yet, the person inside of it ¨C was activating something. It felt like a ticking time bomb. Shit. Momo froze, her face starting to sweat. Could this be what Sera was waiting for? Did she want me to deliver it to Lione? I¡¯m so confused. ¡°I don¡¯t know if that¡¯s a good idea,¡± Momo said. ¡°It might kill you.¡± ¡°It¡¯ll be fine,¡± Lione insisted, waving off her concern. ¡°Just put it on the platter.¡± Momo looked at Nyk, who shrugged. Under normal circumstances, Momo would consider putting the ultimate weapon of mass destruction in the hands of its former superfan a big no-no, but these weren¡¯t exactly normal circumstances. She needed to do something. With a sigh, she took it out of her pocket, but settled on keeping it held in her hand. Lione gasped, her face going white as sheet paper. She reached out with a trembling finger, hovering just centimeters from the box¡¯s crackling surface. Thankfully, she stopped herself just short of touching it. ¡°Is that¡­ is that what I think it is?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Momo said. ¡°It is. The Wraith Box. The big bad box of badness. Sera managed to create it. I don¡¯t know how, but she managed. And I really need to figure out how to turn it off before it blows. Can you help?¡± Lione bit down on her lip, her hand shaking with a violent intensity. Momo could tell she was fighting off the urge to touch it with every bone in her body. ¡°That¡¯s it,¡± Nyk said, getting up from her chair. ¡°Enough of this. We¡¯re tying the bitch up.¡± ¡ª Momo didn¡¯t know Nyk had meant it so literally. Grabbing one of the water tanks hanging around the apartment, Nyk tied Lione¡¯s middle section around it with rope. She also tied her hands and covered them both in kitchen mittens. ¡°Just in case she tries anything funny,¡± Nyk said. To Momo¡¯s surprise, Lione complied. She seemed at least half-aware that she wasn¡¯t in control of her actions. Her eyes kept going in and out of the haze. Her words were sometimes lucid, sometimes garbled. Whenever she got particularly manic, Robert went to her side and began petting her hair. That seemed to calm her down considerably. ¡°I know this isn¡¯t what you want to hear,¡± Lione began, hesitant. ¡°But there¡¯s no way to undo it. We¡¯re just mortals. Sera is a goddess now. The amount of power it took to fissure all of those chains together is something only a person of her power is capable of. The same goes for undoing such magic.¡± ¡°That¡¯s what I was afraid of. But does that mean Valerica could take it apart?¡± Momo asked, hopeful. ¡°Or hells, Morgana, even?¡± ¡°No,¡± Lione sighed. ¡°And that¡¯s probably why they haven¡¯t tried to. They know the nature of that device threatens Morgana¡¯s very domain. If Valerica were to hammer it with raw magic, it would simply reflect that magic back at her. If she were to try and bring it to Morgana through the Nether, the box would open a tear between the two worlds, releasing the souls in an in-between zone, and possibly compromising the entire realm.¡± Lione paused, inhaling deeply. ¡°There is no easy way out. If there was, Sera wouldn¡¯t be a one of a kind evil fucking genius,¡± she said, wearing the slightest hint of a smile. ¡°The only way to deal with it is to disassemble it here, on this plane, with the accuracy of a surgeon¡¯s scalpel. To release each soul, one by one, back to the Nether. But there is no mortal with that kind of power and that finesse. And there is no goddess with it, either. At least not one that can reach it. And Sera knows that.¡± ¡°No¡­ No. I don¡¯t accept that. There has to be an answer,¡± Momo said, anger rising in her chest. She turned to Nyk. ¡°Didn¡¯t you transport it here? If it was going to explode between the planes, it would have done it then.¡± Nyk nodded. ¡°It¡¯s true. I did.¡± Lione tried to shrug, but the rope was too tight, so she just shimmied awkwardly. ¡°That doesn¡¯t help us. Sera probably installed a safeguard so it wouldn¡¯t go off the first time it was triggered. Look, I can¡¯t help you disable it, but I can tell you this. When we designed the box initially, it required a very specific condition to be met in order to activate. It was the only way that it would work as intended. Without it, the device would sit, dormant, a prison of screaming chains.¡± Lione paused. Momo felt a sense of sudden, heavy dread pricking at her skin. ¡°And?¡± she asked. ¡°What was that condition?¡± Lione swallowed thickly, the clouds around her vision building once more. ¡°In order for the husk to flourish, the soul who is marked for death must die.¡± The rope snapped. 197 – Don’t Look Up A flash of lightning struck outside the apartment window, filling the room with blinding light. By the time Momo¡¯s eyes cleared, Lione was gone; the rope that had been binding her sat in a burnt pile on the ground. Robert stared at it, stunned. ¡°M¨Cm¨Cmother,¡± he stuttered. ¡°M¨Cm¡ªmother?¡± ¡°Shit,¡± Momo said, whipping her head around. ¡°Where did she go?¡± Momo reflexively checked her hand. She was still holding the Wraith Box. Thank god. She had been scared for a moment that Lione had stolen it in the confusion. It was still pulsing, but not with any more intensity than previously. ¡°Momo, get back!¡± Nyk screamed. A force like a battering ram slammed into Momo. It sent her flying backwards into a pile of garbage; luckily, the paper muddied the effect of the slam on Momo¡¯s spine, which was still recovering from being flashbanged by Robert earlier. ¡°What was that¨C?¡± she groaned, looking upwards. Her eyes were met with hands: green, translucent palms the size of baseballs. She didn¡¯t even have a moment to scream before they were twisting around her neck, clenching down and completely cutting off her airflow. Despite looking like he was the consistency of gelatin, Robert seemingly had the ability to fluctuate his weight and mass, as Momo was now learning the hard way. ¡°R ¨C Robert. P ¨C please put me down,¡± she stuttered. She was trying to come up with the right spell to cast, but the lack of oxygen was making it hard to think; not to mention none of the skills in her repertoire were particularly successful against a giant mass of jello. She coughed and wheezed. ¡°Nyk, please¡ª¡± ¡°I¡¯m trying!¡± Nyk yelled. She was kicking at Robert¡¯s side unsuccessfully. Every time she did, her foot would just get stuck, and then she¡¯d spend the next few seconds wiggling it out. ¡°It¡¯s like he takes no damage!¡± ¡°You killed m-m-mother,¡± Robert said, his service dog shirt melting onto the floor. He tightened his grip, and Momo choked out a gurgling sound. ¡°I didn¡¯t k ¨C kill her, I swear,¡± she said hoarsely. A dark, hazy ring was starting to form around her vision. She frantically scanned the room, looking for something to help free her. There was so much useless junk around: torn paper, vats of water, broken tables, shattered glass, the discarded tea set¡­ Wait. Spotting the teacup on the floor, it clicked. That¡¯s it. ¡°Nyk, Nyk, stop. The ¨C the tea.¡± Lione had mentioned before that Robert and the tea were made of the same main component ¨C the same nethergel. Since the tea was liquid, and Robert was not, that could only mean one thing. ¡°What about the damn tea?¡± Nyk yelled, still kicking to no effect. ¡°Hot, hot,¡± Momo coughed out. ¡°The nethergel ¨C when it gets hot, it.. It¡­¡± Nyk¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°You idiot genius,¡± she said, wiggling her foot out and taking a few steps to the side so she was adjacent to Momo. She jutted out her palms, facing them forward towards Robert¡¯s side. ¡°If I were you, I¡¯d hold your nose.¡± A [Nether Fireball] rocketed out of Nyk¡¯s hand and straight into Robert¡¯s side, burning straight through him. It cut him in half, so his torso and arms flopped onto the floor, melting at the edges. Momo fell to the floor, gasping for breath. The sulfuric air burned her throat. Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. ¡°T ¨C thank you,¡± she said, wincing. ¡°Oh, that smells terrible ¨C¡± ¡°Don¡¯t thank me yet.¡± Robert¡¯s upper half, still sentient, had already begun to crawl towards his lower half, his gooey fingers dragging along the floorboards. Nyk threw another fireball, then another, until his torso was nothing but a puddle of emerald, runny liquid. His legs fell to their knees, unable to cope. ¡°There,¡± Nyk said, sighing. ¡°Gross.¡± ¡°P ¨C poor Robert,¡± Momo coughed. ¡°He didn¡¯t know any better.¡± ¡°I have no pity for a goo-man,¡± Nyk said, scowling. ¡°But where did its owner go?¡± Breathing in, Momo looked around the room again. Desert daylight was streaming in through the windows, illuminating the space like a stage spotlight, but still: nothing. It was as if the sudden lightning had struck Lione to smithereens, leaving no trace but a bunch of burnt rope. As she was about to try and stand, something landed on Momo¡¯s head. ¡°What was that?¡± she said, her hand flying to her hair. Something sticky had fallen into it. She pulled at the substance, but it wouldn¡¯t come loose without taking a chunk of her scalp with it. She dropped her hand to her lap, and saw it was coated in an unmistakable green putty. Momo trembled, a foreboding feeling turning in her stomach. She looked towards the ceiling. ¡°Oh god,¡± Momo said, her jaw going slack as she spotted it. Her voice lowered into a trembling whisper. ¡°Nyk, the ceiling.¡± The dokkaebi looked up to find Lione splayed out, caught in a spiderweb of green goo. She looked like a mother arachnid, eyes wide open, pupils fully dilated, limbs extended as far as her ligaments could manage without breaking. She was clearly in that hazy state again, somewhere between cognizant and possessed. The duchess¡¯s eyes unfocused and focused, finally honing in on Momo. ¡°That was very rude, what you did,¡± she said slowly, pouting. ¡°Obliterating my child like that. You¡¯re lucky I can just rebuild him by putting him in the freezer.¡± Lione freed her hand from the web and stuck it out towards them. ¡°[Nether Webbing]!¡± Goo shot from her hand, fine as thread, encircling Momo and bundling her limbs together. Momo shortly found her wrists bound to her chest, her legs coupled at the knees. She fell over, wriggling around on the floor like a worm. ¡°Urgh ¨C Lione, let¡¯s just talk this out, okay?¡± she yelled, the string binding tighter the more she fought against it. ¡°You just need to think clearly. We¡¯re on your side, remember?¡± ¡°Why are you even trying to reason with her?¡± Nyk said, gritting her teeth. ¡°She¡¯s clearly off her shit. She¡¯s just going to end up killing you ¨C¡± ¡°The only side I¡¯m on is the side of science,¡± Lione said, laughing madly. ¡°And to further science, the Marked One must be eliminated, dear. There is no other way around it. You must be the sacrifice.¡± ¡°Why are you so sure I¡¯m the Marked One?¡± Momo said weakly, arguing from her awkward position on the floor. ¡°That could be anyone. Wouldn¡¯t it be a mistake to just kill me willy nilly? What if you¡¯re wrong?¡± ¡°Because I know,¡± Lione said coldly. ¡°Why else would Sera send the box to you? Why else would she choose me to deliver the final blow? It¡¯s the circle of life, darling. You put me in a prison, I put you in one. Only yours will be terminal.¡± Lione grinned, her teeth exposed. ¡°Now, die,¡± she said. ¡°[Nether Webbing - Acidify]!¡± Momo screamed as the webbing around her turned from goo to acid. It burnt straight through her clothing, biting like hot wasps at her skin. Nyk fired another [Nether Fireball] at Lione in retaliation, but the duchess wrapped herself in a thick cocoon of the gel just as it hit, using it like an endlessly replenishable shield. Nyk threw fireball after fireball, but Lione defended herself with the same mechanism each time, laughing wildly. ¡°Burn,¡± she yelled towards Momo, ¡°burn!¡± ¡°I can¡¯t stop her!¡± Nyk growled. ¡°The goo regrows too fast!¡± Tears streaming down her face, Momo¡¯s mind reeled. All my skills are useless. She couldn¡¯t cast [Nether Fireball] or [Abysmal Blast]; Lione would just defend herself with the goo cocoon. Even if she used [Summon Lesser Familiar], the summoned creature wouldn¡¯t be able to unbind the acidic vines wrapped around her. And if she [Possesed] a piece of furniture to escape the vines, Lione could just destroy that furniture, and Momo with it. ¡°My Strength isn¡¯t high enough,¡± Momo cried. ¡°I can¡¯t break free of these.¡± ¡°Just try harder!¡± Nyk said, evading left and right as Lione cast [Nether Webbing] at her. If she paused for even a second, she¡¯d be caught in the same cage as Momo. ¡°Gods, how much Mana does this woman have?¡± ¡°A lot!¡± Lione cackled. Momo moaned, her limbs aching and her skin peeling. She was stuck, and her health points were dropping fast. Her head pounding, she could only think of one remaining trick in her arsenal ¨C a skill she¡¯d been too scared to try yet. Ever since she got her horns, she knew that her everyday form wasn¡¯t the true form of the dokkaebi. She had no idea what the transformation really entailed, but there was a small chance, at the very least, it would up her Strength enough that she could break through the vines. She had no other choice. She had to go full Goblin. ¡°To hell with it,¡± Momo groaned. ¡°[Polymorph - Dokkaebi]!¡± 198 – Soulfissuremorphosis A rush of adrenaline shot through Momo. Unlike her other polymorphs, the Dokkaebi form didn¡¯t shrink her or stretch her or otherwise contort her body at any awkward angles. No, quite the contrary ¨C it felt like shimmying into a perfectly tailored pair of pants. It felt natural. Her horns enlarged. Her canines became fangs. Black lines of Nether sew themselves into the skin of her face. Her entire body became covered in elaborate obsidian-colored tattoos. It was as if the Nether itself had bonded to her flesh. She felt so¡­ So powerful. She screamed, flexing her arms outwards. The acidic vines instantly snapped. From the ceiling, Lione¡¯s boastful smile fell. ¡°What on Alois,¡± she muttered. ¡°Those should be unbreakable!¡± ¡°Not anymore,¡± Momo whispered. ¡°Goblin mode. Get used to it.¡± Lione sent another cast of [Nether Webbing] at her, but Momo didn¡¯t even bother dodging. Her skin was burning as hot as a Nether Fireball. With a simple flex, the flames running down her arms evaporated the webbing into smoldering ash. ¡°Gods, why don¡¯t you die already?¡± Lione screamed. Lione hurled web after web, but every new bundle of nethergel was greeted with a flourish of flame. Momo grinned as she watched the goo evaporate, unable to touch her. She felt superhuman. Or rather, super goblin. ¡°As someone who formerly tried to assassinate her,¡± Nyk added, side glancing at Momo. She looked vaguely impressed. ¡°It¡¯s harder than it looks.¡± Lione growled. Unable to stick Momo to the ground, she changed tack; she abandoned her ceiling cocoon, and began to descend towards the basement floor, head first, a single thread wrapped around her ankles. The display looked like a black widow plummeting upon prey. The duchess halted her descent a few feet away from Momo. Momo braced herself, throwing up her guard. Power coursed through her veins, urging her to charge the spider-woman, but she resisted. She didn¡¯t want to accidentally kill Lione. One, because she didn¡¯t like killing anyone, especially spirit-possessed sidekicks, but more importantly, if Lione was wrong and it was actually her, instead, who was marked for death, everyone in that basement, hell, everyone in all of Karahtan was done for. Momo couldn¡¯t afford to make that mistake. ¡°I have been waiting for this day my entire life,¡± Lione said slowly, coldly. Her pupils had completely evaporated; her eyes were now full on black almonds, like two small slits of oblivion. ¡°Ever since Sera introduced me to the concept of soul-fissuring, I have dreamed of creating the ultimate Nether masterwork. The peak of necromancy. Not a resuscitated soul, but a created one. A husk born of hundreds.¡± Lione twisted her neck like an owl, the bones snapping. Instead of looking towards Momo, she pinned her gaze to Nyk. ¡°If the catch does not want to come willingly, I will have to resort to bait,¡± Lione said, pouting. ¡°Such a shame. I was starting to like this one, too.¡± Before either of them could react, the duchess reached out her hand. ¡°[Melt Soul Chain],¡± she commanded. Nyk screamed, her body immediately dropping to the floor in anguish. ¡°Nyk!¡± Momo cried, trying to run to her. She found that her feet were stuck, two globs of green gel fixing them to the floor. The flames that crawled up and down her arms stopped at her ankles, allowing the goo to fasten her there. ¡°You¡¯re so easily distracted,¡± Lione chuckled. ¡°Always wobbling around like a chicken with its head cut off. Now, be a good little sacrifice and die, won¡¯t you? I¡¯ll even let your friend live if you come nicely. [Acidify III].¡± The webbing around her ankles began to burn, and Momo winced painfully. The effect wasn¡¯t as bad as it was in her natural form, but it was still powerful enough to erode her feet to stubs if she didn¡¯t act fast. Momo looked frantically between the two of them. Nyk was digging her fingers into the cloth on her chest, writhing on the floor in pain. Momo couldn¡¯t see any discernible weapon or wound; it looked as if she was suffering from an invisible sort of stabbing. A dagger unseen. What did she cast? [Melt Soul Chain]? she thought to herself. If the spell¡¯s name was truly indicative, then Momo had a way to fix it. She silently cast [Eye of the Nether Demon]. Just as Momo thought, the spell revealed a corroding chain sticking out of Nyk¡¯s chest. An acidic black magic was decaying the end of the metal thread, traveling second by second towards Nyk¡¯s still-beating heart. ¡°No,¡± Momo said, and she stuck her palm outwards. ¡°You can try and kill me, fine. For all I know, I¡¯ll just pop up in some other universe, summoned by some other ridiculous cult. But you¡¯re not killing my friends. I won''t let you.¡± ¡°We¡¯re not,¡± Nyk coughed, blood dripping down her mouth. ¡°Friends.¡± Momo ignored her, moving her hand away from Lione, and instead faced her palm towards Nyk. Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. ¡°Oh, yes, yes, Momo. That¡¯s right. Let the fury take you,,¡± Lione groaned in pleasure. She swung happily from her web on the ceiling, waving around the basement like a pendulum. ¡°Let friend become foe. Enact that final fit of violence. Corrupt your soul further. Every point of experience you gain is just a greater drop in the husk.¡± Momo gritted her teeth. ¡°Gods ¨C won¡¯t you shut up?¡± She closed her eyes, and honed in on Nyk¡¯s fading chain. ¡°[Soul First Aid],¡± she shouted. A shot of black magic soared from Momo¡¯s fingers straight into Nyk¡¯s chest, blasting the dokkaebi back several feet. Nyk crashed into a table with a crunch, and for a moment, Momo thought she had killed her. ¡°Yes, yes!¡± Lione screamed, swinging with even more enthusiasm. She oscillated from one corner of the room to another, her unkempt hair swooshing wildly. ¡°Let your body rush with her power, absorb her very essence, let it liven you¡ª¡± ¡°Agh¡­¡± Nyk moaned. After several seconds, her body lurched up from behind a mess of blueprints and broken glass bottles. ¡°None of this is worth it. I¡¯m quitting. Fuck Valerica.¡± Lione¡¯s smile fell. Momo grinned. Taking advantage of Lione¡¯s brief moment of confusion, she dipped down and swatted away the nethergel at her feet with her fiery forearms. It melted quickly, allowing her to sidestep out of the constraints. Lione was still swinging back and forth, unable to stop herself. ¡°No!¡± Lione shouted, trying and failing to wiggle out of her own threads. ¡°[Nether Webbing]. [Nether Webbing]. Damn it! This can¡¯t be¡­ my Mana pool¡­¡± Lione¡¯s vacant eyes blazed red. ¡°For a dokkaebi to to kill another dokkaebi is to kill death itself. You were supposed to fell her, and the blow was supposed to fell you in turn. That ¨C that was supposed to be a killing blow! A final finisher ¨C¡± ¡°No,¡± Momo said, and raised her flaming fist upwards. Lione swung back and forth frenetically in front of her, a moving target. But Momo didn¡¯t need hand-eye coordination to end this. She reached out, and grabbed the duchess by the soul chain. ¡°This is.¡± Snap. ¡ª ¡°You should have seen the look on your face,¡± Momo giggled. ¡°So funny.¡± ¡°I doubt that,¡± Lione muttered. ¡°Unless you find the look of someone about to be murdered amusing.¡± ¡°Of course not,¡± Momo said, crossing her arms. ¡°But I wasn¡¯t going to murder you.¡± Momo had noticed the discrepancy about Lione¡¯s soul chain the moment she cast [Eye of the Nether Demon]. The chain had an unusual little backseat driver attached to the side of it, a parasite: it was shaped like a claw, colored obsidian, and once Momo gave it a good yank, Lione¡¯s eyes instantly cleared and the possession ended. The claw itself evaporated the moment it wasn¡¯t attached to the chain. ¡°I¡¯ve seen those before. Devil claws. Nasty little parasitic freaks. But I didn¡¯t notice this one,¡± Nyk said, still wincing everytime she talked. A large purple bruise was forming just below her collarbone. ¡°Annoying as it is to admit, you seem to have better Soul Sight than I do.¡± ¡°Oh, don¡¯t get down on yourself, I only got it through a cheat code anyway,¡± Momo said, shrugging. ¡°[Eye of the Nether Demon]. It¡¯s an Excalibur-level skill, but the System gave it to me by mistake when the Nether was all out of sorts. The upgraded version lets me see injured soul chains specifically. Like yours, and I guess Lione¡¯s, too.¡± A shadow crossed Nyk¡¯s face. ¡°You have a Nether Demon skill?¡± she said. ¡°Yeah,¡± Momo said, squinting. ¡°Is that a bad thing?¡± Nyk paused. ¡°Well, it¡¯s not good.¡± Lione interrupted them by screaming. ¡°Robert?¡± she yelled, aghast. Her wrists were once again tied with rope ¨C an understandable precaution ¨C but she writhed against them now. ¡°Did you¡­ did you kill my baby boy?¡± The puddle that was once Robert bubbled on the floor. Momo winced. ¡°Of course not!¡± she said, defensive. With the irrefutable evidence staring them both in the face, she backpedaled. ¡°Well, yes, okay, we did. But to be fair, he tried to kill us first. Don¡¯t worry though, we were planning on putting him back together, weren¡¯t we Nyk?¡± Nyk stared at her silently. ¡°Why don¡¯t you go do that,¡± Momo instructed, glaring back at her. ¡°Slosh him into a bucket and put him in the freezer, right? That should do the trick?¡± ¡°Hm. Yes,¡± Lione sniffled. ¡°That would repair his body. But psychological trauma is forever.¡± ¡°Well¨C¡± ¡°I¡¯m on it,¡± Nyk said, groaning as she stood up and grabbed a bucket and a mop. ¡°Anything is better than listening to you two moan. Momo, let me know when it¡¯s time to leave. Or if the duchess gets another case of the murder-eyes.¡± ¡°Will do.¡± With Nyk busy, Momo turned to Lione once more. She had a very specific question for her. Something the duchess had only mentioned while possessed. ¡°Lione,¡± she said. ¡°What exactly is the husk?¡± Lione blinked several times, then she worried her brow. ¡°The husk¡­¡± she mumbled. ¡°I did say that, didn¡¯t I?¡± ¡°Yeah. Quite a bit. You kept insisting the one who was marked for death would¡­ make the husk thrive, or something? You seemed very sure it was me.¡± ¡°Right, yes. The mark, of course,¡± Lione hummed, eyes widening. ¡°I remember now. It¡¯s the soul chain which triggers the device to enter the next stage of soulfissuremorphosis. The mark dies, the box transforms. I assumed it was you because, well, it is probably you. Sera did hire Nyk to plant the thing on you and kill you, after all.¡± ¡°Soulfissurewhatifis?¡± Momo mumbled, not liking where this was going. ¡°Soulfissuremorphosis,¡± Lione corrected. ¡°That¡¯s why it¡¯s called a husk. It is simply a shell that is protecting a growing larva. The spawn of a wraith. Once it has fed on enough souls, it hatches. The marked one serves as the trigger to that stage of its evolution. Without the death of the mark, it will never reach that point. It will just remain a sad little soul-prison.¡± Momo felt nauseous. She hated bugs. Especially soul-reaping ones. She held up the box to her face. ¡°You¡¯re telling me there¡¯s a gross little death insect in here?" she muttered. "And if I die, it¡¯ll turn into a massive, world-destroying death insect?¡± ¡°Sort of,¡± Lione said, grinning. ¡°Isn¡¯t that wonderful? From a scientific perspective, I mean. Dreadful for other reasons.¡± Momo sighed. ¡°You and I have different definitions of wonderful.¡± ¡ª The door to Lione¡¯s apartment closed tightly behind them. From a dim little basement window, Lione and her newly-reformed Robert, who was looking a lot more bucket-shaped than previously, waved goodbye. The streets were still quiet, and the daylight was still as sharp and bright as a gleaming needlepoint. ¡°So, that was useless,¡± Nyk said, yawning. ¡°First of all, we learned nothing. Second of all, I nearly had my soul chain melted off my chest. And third, I had to clean up the grossest mess I¡¯ve ever encountered, and I worked a night shift at the Nether Taco Bell.¡± Momo remained silent for a moment. She was stuck gazing at the circular top of the Tuberena. ¡°It wasn¡¯t useless,¡± she said, finally. ¡°We learned something really important.¡± ¡°Yeah?¡± Nyk said, skeptical. ¡°And what¡¯s that?¡± ¡°If the mark really is me... ¡± Momo whispered. ¡°For as long as I¡¯m in Alois, everyone else is in danger.¡± 199 – Small talk, A Bit of Overdue Flirting, and, Of course, Everything Else Mandrake¡¯s Revenge docked off the shores of Karahtan just a day later. After Kami managed to fake some ownership documents, him, Ribeye and Gita showed up in the most elaborate disguises that Momo had ever seen. Ribeye looked like a full on minuteman, with the bent leather hat and the ruffled blue shirt. Gita looked the part of his colonial pirate wife. Kami, in typical Kami fashion, was worn around her neck like a taxidermied scarf. ¡°Did you enjoy the city, buttercup?¡± Gita asked, greeting Momo warmly by the docks. The marina sat just outside the massive city walls, a gleaming oasis in the sandy dunes. ¡°The palaklava here is deadly good. Can¡¯t get anything like it outside of the Dunes. Have you tried it?¡± ¡°Palaklava? You mean baklava?¡± Momo asked, bewildered. ¡°And no, I haven¡¯t had the chance to try any of the, um, local cuisine. We¡¯ve been really busy¡­¡± getting our asses beat, Momo wanted to add, but she refrained. ¡°Baklava?¡± Gita scoffed. ¡°Don¡¯t insult me. You can get baklava anywhere. Palaklava is a whole ¡®nother thing entirely. Spinach and cheese and honey and berries all stuffed into the finest filo dough. I¡¯d sell one of these kids for a fresh batch of it, easy. Wouldn¡¯t even have to ask me twice.¡± ¡°Oh, great, she¡¯s on about it again,¡± Ribeye groaned, grunting as he secured the last knot attaching the boat to the dock. ¡°Just get on with it, Gita. And instead of selling the kids, get them a heaping batch of it, too. They deserve it after all the work they put in cleaning off them Barium sea snails.¡± Momo examined the hull of the ship. It was patched together with bandages and bandaids, as if repaired by a toddler-mechanic. Momo frowned. Looking at the median age of the crew, that metaphor wasn¡¯t too far off from reality. ¡°When will it be ready to sail back to Morganium?¡± Momo asked. ¡°Soon,¡± Ribeye grunted. From his expression, that could mean anywhere from fifteen minutes to several weeks. ¡°Kas already got what we came for, so we have no reason to keep these grublets on an extended summer vacation.¡± He eyed the children. ¡°But the boat¡¯s going to need a little bit of work tonight, some of those snails got into the toilets¡­¡± ¡°I can help,¡± Momo volunteered. She wanted to get back to Aloysius as soon as possible. Before she made any rash decisions about what she needed to do with the Wraith Box ¨C or rather, with herself ¨C she wanted to see Sumire. She had to make sure she was okay. ¡°No way. You¡¯re going to the market, too,¡± Ribeye said, scowling. ¡°You look downright depressed. I can¡¯t have that energy on my ship. It¡¯ll ruin the kids¡¯ morale. Plus, Gita needs an escort. If I let her free in those markets, she¡¯ll never come back. It¡¯s happened before.¡± Gita glared at him. ¡°But ¨C¡± ¡°No buts,¡± Ribeye growled. ¡°Escort her, get me two blueberry muffins, and get your ass back here before dusk. That¡¯s an order. Can you follow it?¡± Momo swallowed, sighed, and gave him an obedient salute. ¡°Yes, sir.¡± ¡ª Karahtan¡¯s central market was an attention economy. Every seller was in constant competition for the change in your pocket, yelling unbelievable deal after unbelievable deal. The stands were organized in a circle, under a giant dome, surrounded by smaller archways. The whole place smelled of sand-kissed lamb and goat meat, strung up on lines and hung from the arches. The market reminded Momo nostalgically of Kalendale, only on a far grander scale. And with less people complaining about how badly she smelled. ¡°Oooh, ho ho, here we go,¡± Gita squeaked excitedly, jumping from foot to foot as they approached the Palaklava stand. The delicacy was piled high in small tin boxes, steam wafting off the freshly baked dough. The stand was run by a man who was wearing a Zephyra fan-shirt. The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. ¡°Customers!¡± he said, throwing his hands upwards. ¡°Before you order, why don¡¯t you first try a complimentary treat? Mini-palaklavas. Travel-sized.¡± He unscrewed the top of a glass jar, wrapped candies sitting inside. He offered them two. Momo took one quickly, never one to say no to free stuff. Gita did the same. His grin widened as they chewed, and Momo noted that he looked almost¡­ diabolical. But then again, she was probably reading into it. She had just been talking to too many diabolical people lately. It was skewing her perception. ¡°How does it taste?¡± ¡°Really good,¡± Momo moaned. And it did. It tasted like heaven. Like a hundred melted bars of chocolate and fruit and brie cheese. She didn¡¯t even taste the spinach. In fact, she didn¡¯t really taste¡­ anything, the more she focused on the flavor. It was almost like the treat had bypassed her tongue entirely, shooting serotonin straight into her brain stem. Momo¡¯s eyes widened. She received a new message from her audio courier.
[Sweet Deal] failed! Your Charisma score is too high.
¡°I¡¯m going to kiss you,¡± Gita gurgled, looking at the man with a completely inappropriate amount of lust. ¡°I need more. More. More free samples.¡± ¡°Sorry, dear, only the first one is free,¡± he said. ¡°But I can give you a great deal, how about that? Five hundred gold for the whole jar of samples. Now that¡¯s a bargain.¡± Momo balked. The jar held no more than a handful of the mini-pastries. She looked at the actual price list stapled to the side of the shack. Six full servings of Palaklava cost only twenty gold. Twenty full servings was eighty. Momo gritted her teeth. Gita was getting grifted. That was Momo¡¯s job. Not some weird Zephyra stan. ¡°Five hundred gold?¡± Gita said, fishing from her pockets. ¡°I only got two hundred¡­ damn Ribeye¡­ he put me on a budget again, I¡¯ll have his neck¡ª¡± ¡°Here,¡± Momo shelled out a few gold pieces. ¡°I want another of the small ones. But I¡¯d like to buy it for you.¡± She gave him a winning smile. ¡°And I want you to eat it.¡± He frowned. ¡°W¨Cwhat? You want me to eat it?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± she nodded. ¡°Because you¡¯re so kind for giving us such a good deal.¡± ¡°Oh, well that¡¯s¡­ that¡¯s so sweet of you,¡± he laughed. ¡°Buying me my own goods. Sure, I can oblige you, dear.¡± He took out a piece of candy and nearly popped it in his mouth, but Momo reached out and stopped him. The spell only works a certain way. ¡°Wait, give it to me first,¡± she said. She batted her eyelashes to the best of her ability, which was not much, so he looked a bit disturbed. ¡°So I can have the honor of giving it back to you.¡± ¡°Oh, er, sure.¡± Momo plucked the candy from his hand, tossed it around her palms to make sure the magic would work as intended, then placed it back in his hand. ¡°Great,¡± she said, giving a thumbs up. ¡°Now it¡¯s all yours. You enjoy it, then we¡¯ll make the deal, okay?¡± He looked at her as if she was a zoo animal. ¡°Of course, dear¡­¡± he murmured, beginning to chew. As he did so, Momo whispered [Sweet Deal] under her breath. As soon as she did, the man froze. Momo got another notification from her courier. She supposed he got the same.
[Sweet Deal] failed! Target¡¯s Charisma score is too high.
She grinned. She didn¡¯t need it to actually work. She just wanted to see the expression on his face when he put the pieces together. ¡°You¡­¡± he said, blinking slowly. Recognition, then anger, slowly etched itself into his features. ¡°Damn it. What kind of Con Artist wears a pirate hat?¡± ¡°That¡¯s a whole can of worms I don¡¯t have time to open,¡± Momo said. She pointed towards the biggest container of Palaklava in the back. ¡°Now, with that out of the way, we¡¯ll take fifty of the big ones. And at an actual discount.¡± ¡ª As the child sailors noisily ate pound upon pound of Palaklava, which turned out to be actually quite good, even without the mental gaslighting, Momo noticed a twinkle in the sky. It wasn¡¯t a star, but a bird. A raven, swooping through the sky with the dexterity of an olympic gymnast. ¡°Squawk!¡± it called out, before settling in the sand by Momo¡¯s feet. It dropped a letter at her ankles, then coughed. ¡°S¨Csquawk! Gods, my throat. It¡¯s so dry. I hate deserts. And I hate oceans, oh, I¡¯m never doing that again, not for anyone, or any cause, or any queen or godling¨C¡± ¡°Hi, Vicar,¡± Momo laughed. ¡°Nice to see you, too.¡± Vicar sniffed the air, his tirade abruptly ending. ¡°Is that Palaklava I smell?¡± ¡°Jeez. You too?¡± Momo said. ¡°It¡¯s good, but I¡¯m not sure I get it¡ª¡± ¡°Move, woman!¡± he commanded, all his usual royal pleasantries discarded. He waved his wings wildly, shooting into the crowd of children and pecking at their food. ¡°I haven¡¯t eaten in days, Gods, months! Move away, piglets¡ª¡± The child sailors'' screams dulled to nothing once Momo laid her eyes on the letter. To; (Queen) Momo Subject; Small talk, a bit of overdue flirting, and, of course, everything else From; That Pirate Girl (Who Else?) Momo froze, her pulse going rapidfire. Sumire. 200 – Sumire’s Letter My Mo, First of all, I hope this letter reaches you before you¡¯re dead. Not that you¡¯re in imminent danger, well, any more than usual, but more so that this stupid bird refuses to fly back to you. I¡¯ve tried every trick in the book to try and persuade him, but the journey over here was obviously traumatic for the feathery fella. So if you don¡¯t reply to this letter anytime soon, I won¡¯t be hurt, nor surprised. Just a little more annoyed at birds than usual. More on that later. First question ¨C have you checked your Ruler System lately? I understand if you haven¡¯t. That whole Sera death box that consumes souls thing takes obvious precedence. But I want to be the first one to warn you if you haven¡¯t been keeping up with the times, they¡¯re, well¡­ something. Now back to the bird part. Remember that chicken pope you waved around in Mole City? He¡¯s become the most prominent religious figure in the entire continent. At least a third of Morganium have converted to the Calling of the Holy Bird. Here¡¯s my humble breakdown of that disaster: Pro: We now have something called ¡®chicken electricity,¡¯ which is kind of like the earthly electricity you told me about, but powered by the¡­ chickenductor, and some dwarven shenanigan called gnomic currents. We¡¯ve been able to make considerable improvements to the city¡¯s infrastructure due to this advancement. Apartments have gone way up in price ever since we introduced elevators. You¡¯d be amazed, Momo. People don¡¯t even want to live on the streets anymore. It¡¯s wild. Now onto the cons. First up, all the chicken shops have been closed down due to religious protests. This is a disaster for me specifically. Now all that¡¯s left is the pizzeria. It¡¯s a very sad state of affairs. Secondly, every single person on the government staff is asking for their own chicken now. They¡¯re calling it a basic right. I want to ask you for permission to shove their basic rights up their basic behinds. Okay, that¡¯s about it in regards to chicken. What else¡­ ah, yes. This Knight of The Sun named Gorim showed up at our doorstep about a week ago. I was expecting more from Jarva than one delusional metalhead and his nervous sidekick, but I suspect you must have had something to do with this. It took a bit of effort, but we captured him and put him in Sera¡¯s old cage for now. Don¡¯t worry, no jester outfit. Now, that¡¯s all of the cheery news out of the way. Onto the kicker. Your article never ran, as you probably know by now. I¡¯ve tried to make do with Teddy, having him polymorph it up and pose as you to give frequent inspirational speeches to the populace, but let¡¯s just say the people are more than a bit sore that you just went and disappeared off the campaign trail. I¡¯ve collected so many tomatoes from the podium that I might as well make soup for the entire continent. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. It doesn¡¯t help that crime rates have increased dramatically after you got rid of the Banned Items list. Refuge¡¯s End has become a bit of a criminal hivemind. All the malefactors from former Nam¡¯Dal have moved over there, and the word on the street is they¡¯re amassing ancient artifacts. No idea why. But criminals + all-powerful weapons and armor is kind of a shitty mix. Seems kind of fun, though. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve gotten yourself involved in that mess too, if I know you at all. But, all in all, things are¡­ okay. Hell, they¡¯re not great, but our walls are still standing. We have fucking elevators. And the city hasn¡¯t turned against you just yet ¨C your Approval Rating is hovering at a brilliant 25%. Some might call that better than most monarchies. I am still, of course, slightly worried that Jarva and his actual Circle of Hell will show up on our doorstep any second, or that the Holy Resistance will recover from their debilitating leadership issues, but, and I can¡¯t believe I¡¯m saying this, we¡¯re more ready than ever to handle them. Viktor and his new assistant are cooking up some weapons powered by the chicken currents, the Wall of Nether is strong, and they have a queen ¨C even if it''s a sham queen, for now ¨C who¡¯s committed to protecting them. Gods, that must have been a lot to take in. But sorry, you did appoint me as your Chief Advisor, so it¡¯s kind of my job to freak you out. It¡¯s also my hobby in general to freak you out, but that¡¯s unrelated. Now, before I run out of parchment, I think I can take off the advisor hat for a second. I miss you, Mo. The city misses you. I¡­ I know I told you how important it was to get out on the road, to meet the people where they are, to grow their devotion. Fuck it. I want you right here, next to me, at that stupid pizza place. I want to wipe the tomato sauce off your mouth. I want all the stupid little moments I never got to have back when I was Roland¡¯s little pet. Shit, I even want you next to me when the inevitable happens, when the armies do arrive. When Jarva gets too cocky, when Nia says fuck it and storms the capital with her little group of necro hotshots. I want you next to me when we win. I wanna see how victory looks on you. Come home soon, pirate, and also ¨C no more sailing without me. It¡¯s rude. Yours, Sumire ¡ª ¡°Ribeye,¡± Momo said, holding the letter tightly in her shaking fist. Her throat bobbed up and down with unspoken emotion. ¡°Yeah?¡± the orc said, turning his head. The sun was setting behind him, the children sleeping soundly in the cabins beneath. The two stood alone on the main deck. ¡°What can I do for you, Cap¡¯n?¡± It had been a hard day of repairs, but the hull was in good shape. Usable shape. ¡°Tomorrow,¡± Momo said. ¡°Tomorrow, we¡¯re sailing back home.¡± 201 – Captain Capricornus of the Bloody Buck Rationally, Momo should have expected that being a sea captain would require a little bit of plundering. It was practically an inevitability when sailing the high seas. But Momo wasn¡¯t really the plundering type; robbing, pillaging, embezzling, purloining ¡ª these were all verbs reserved for the kind of pirate who actually traveled around in search of treasure and fame and glory. As opposed to a Momo sort of pirate, whose definition of treasure began and ended in weird, outcast necromancers and spinach baklava. On her maiden voyage to the Vagrant Dunes, Momo had managed to mostly avoid such instances of plundering. All it required was a very strict procedure: sacrificing her pirate dignity and hightailing it the hell out of there whenever a threat emerged. Every time her crew spotted another ship on the horizon, Momo jumped around the deck like a frenzied chimpanzee, rang the alarm bells, flew a white flag up the mast, and had the kids navigate for their life in the opposite direction. This procedure often cost them many days of travel time, but saved Momo something invaluable: the possibility of running into another one of Sumire¡¯s relatives. The same could not be said of their voyage back. Dusk was the first one to sniff them out. The cat meowed at the top of her itty-bitty lungs, jumping across the deck until she was finally cradled around Momo¡¯s ankles. Momo frantically surveyed the horizon, but the oncoming threat was the kind of thing that could be heard before it could be seen; there was a deafening series of wooshes as cannonballs rushed through the air, crashing hard and sudden into the Mandrake¡¯s flank. The boat yawned, and the child sailors screamed, scattering like, well¡­ scared children. ¡°We¡¯ve been hit on the portside!¡± Ribeye roared. ¡°Gita, get the children to the cannons!¡± ¡°Children, calm yourselves! Into the cabins!¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t say cabins, Gita, I said cannons!¡± The orc woman shuffled the children downstairs, then turned to glare at Ribeye. ¡°They¡¯re no bigger than a cannonball, Ribeye. How are they supposed to load one?¡± Ribeye groaned. It didn¡¯t take long for the source of the attack to appear out of the dense fog. To Momo¡¯s horror, it wasn¡¯t a bunch of wayward Holy Knights and their captive sailors like before. It was a proper pirate ¨C err, sea scavenger ¨C crew. Even in her head, she could hear Sumire¡¯s voice correcting her. Their ship was much smaller than Momo¡¯s, a thin, narrow sloop, brushing along the tide like a ripping viper. Spikes bordered its body, and a jolly roger painted with two crossbones and a goat¡¯s skull hung high on their mast, waving like a rattlesnake¡¯s tail in the wind. ¡°Fine,¡± Ribeye shouted. ¡°Let the children be useless. Kami, Kas, black-haired girl, dwarf idiot, you get to the cannons and fire back before they blow us to pieces!¡± ¡°Aye aye!¡± Grimli said, saluting and effectively throwing himself into the under decks. If the situation wasn¡¯t so dire, Momo would have laughed. Under normal conditions, Grimli would have sung Ribeye a song about his bad attitude, scolding him for the next half-hour with underbaked lyrics about his poor manners. But Momo knew there was nothing that Grimli valued more than being able to hide somewhere quiet and dark during a fight, a trait she greatly sympathized with. It¡¯s what she would have done, too, if she wasn¡¯t bearing the terrible burden of responsibility. Another cannonball plummeted straight into the center of the ship, blowing a hole right through the deck and into the cabins. It didn¡¯t break through to the ship¡¯s underbelly, but Momo knew the next one certainly would. She could see a foggy figure on the sloop loading the ammunition already, hunched over and breathing heavily. Crap, crap, crap. If they didn¡¯t act fast, they were going to be underwater. ¡°Ribeye, take the wheel!¡± Momo yelled out, abandoning the helm and bounding straight towards the other ship. She didn¡¯t leave him even a moment to answer before she cast [Death Monkey Leap], rocketing into the air like a flying squirrel and then crashing down on the deck of the sloop, her clogs crunching through the wood like two small cannonballs. Stolen novel; please report. ¡°[Focus],¡± she murmured, glancing to the side to find the pirate manning the cannon. As the spell overtook her, the contrast in her vision became stark; gone was the piercing glare of the sun, replaced only by the scarred, sunburnt face of the man who was about to turn her ship into the next Titanic. He had the cannonball held flush to his chest, ready to load. ¡°If I were you, I¡¯d put that ball down,¡± Momo said. ¡°Very slowly. Or else it might crush your toes.¡± The man noticed her for the first time, eyes going wide. ¡°Shit, Cap¡¯n! One of the Mandrake¡¯s boys has boarded!¡± ¡°Not a boy,¡± Momo said, thrusting her hands in front of her. ¡°[Nether Fireball]!¡± The orb of pure chaos energy leapt from her fingers and shot through the barrel of the metal cannon. It obliterated the piece of artillery to shreds, then carried on straight through the boards of the deck, leaving a flaming hole in the ship¡¯s flank. Three pirates went down with it, flying right off the edge and into the ripping tide. ¡°By Nerida,¡± the pirate at the cannon said, his shirt burnt right off his skin. ¡°These ain¡¯t sea scavengers, these are demons! Cap¡¯n, the treasure¡¯s not worth it!¡± ¡°I don¡¯t care what they are! We¡¯re not leaving without that damn dagger!¡± Momo looked towards the helm. What she did not expect to see was a goat. A goat lady, to be exact, dressed in tattered clothes and a tricorn. She wore two metal fists around her hoofs. ¡°An Eldergoat pirate?¡± Momo murmured to herself. ¡°And I thought I¡¯d seen everything.¡± ¡°Ignorant grunt. You are speaking your last words to an Eldergoat sea scavenger,¡± the goat corrected her, lobbing spit at the wood by Momo¡¯s feet. ¡°Not that you common thieves have any respect for the subtleties of the profession.¡± The goat jumped from the helm onto the deck, rocking the ship like a small earthquake when she landed. Damn, she¡¯s heavier than she looks, Momo thought as the goat approached her. Once they were face to face, the goat-woman sneered, slamming her metal fists together. The sound of the collision was so deafening it made Momo¡¯s ears ring. ¡°Captain Capricornus of the Bloody Buck,¡± she greeted. ¡°And you are¨C¡± ¡°Captain Coco of Mandrake¡¯s Revenge,¡± Momo cut in, offering her a polite smile and sticking out her right hand. ¡°How about this, you stop firing at my ship, and I¡¯ll stop firing at yours. Truce?¡± ¡°I wasn¡¯t finished,¡± the goat said, scowling. ¡°What you are¡­ is dead.¡± Capricornus screamed and leveled a fist straight at Momo¡¯s chest. Much to the goat¡¯s shock and dismay, she dodged easily. Momo¡¯s reflexes were as sharp as a knife point. ¡°Look, usually I¡¯d entertain a little back and forth,¡± Momo said, ducking out of the way of another swing. ¡°But I kind of have this girl waiting for me back home. And my raven refuses to deliver her another letter, so I¡¯m kind of in a hurry, it¡¯s a whole situation¡ª¡± ¡°Gods, stay still, you goblin!¡± ¡°Oh, did you notice the horns?¡± ¡°They¡¯re bloody hard to miss,¡± the cannon pirate interjected. He was bent over, still hugging his burnt chest. ¡°Sticking like corkscrews out of your scalp.¡± ¡°Less talking, more shooting!¡± Capricornus shouted. The goat swung again, and Momo dodged again, walking backwards on the ship¡¯s flank. It worked for a few more swings, right up until she backed into what felt like a brick wall of flesh. She tilted her head, and found herself surrounded by a full gaggle of bare-chested pirates, scimitars pointed at her neck from all directions. Capricornus broke through the wall of men, shoved them aside, and pushed her metallic mitten under Momo¡¯s chin. It felt like the press of a cold oven on her jugular. ¡°Time¡¯s up, sweet cheeks.¡± She reared her fist back. ¡°Have fun swimming with the fishies.¡± ¡°Thanks. But I didn¡¯t bring my swimsuit, so I think I¡¯ll pass on that offer,¡± Momo said, and then grinned. ¡°How about this instead¡ª[Polymorph ¨C Dokkaebi].¡± (A relevant and interesting fact about the Dokkaebi Form which Momo recalled recently: it invokes [Fear] into all enemies with an INT below 25. And if your class isn¡¯t a caster, but instead, a guy who shoves cannonballs into cannons, twenty five is a pretty high bar to hit.) The effect was immediate. ¡°Oh heavenly gods,¡± the cannon pirate mumbled, his face draining of all color. He began backing away slowly. His scimitar clattered to his feet. ¡°I¡ª It¡¯s¨CIt¡¯s Morgana. She¡¯s manifested upon Alois to skin us alive. We¡¯re all going to die here.¡± Capricornus scowled, whipping her head around in bewilderment as the surrounding pirates began to scream and run. ¡°What in ten hells are you talking about?¡± she spat. ¡°It¡¯s just some goddamn illusion. Get yourself together, mates.¡± Half of the crew retreated to the cabins, the other half sprinted straight off the gangplank and into the sea. It was pure bedlam, screaming and shouting and crying and whimpering. In only a few seconds, Capricornus and Momo were the only ones remaining on the deck. Capricornus glared at her, steam rocketing out of her nostrils. ¡°You dare take my crew from me. You dastardly, vile¨C¡± A cannonball shot straight into the goat¡¯s side, flinging her into the water like a ragdoll. Momo jumped, startled. She looked to her right, where she could see a face peeking out just above one of the Mandrake¡¯s cannon holes. It was Nyk. And for the first time likely ever, she was grinning. 202 – Im Going To Change Everything After their run in with Captain Capricornus, Kami insisted on taking a glance at their foe¡¯s abandoned belongings. If it wasn¡¯t abundantly clear, that was thief slang for ooh, free treasure. Once they got done tying up the remaining, still-terrified pirates in the ship¡¯s undercabins, they proceeded to the captain¡¯s chamber. It was a large, decadent room, decorated with skulls of every kind of land and water mammal. In the middle of the room was a completely bare writer¡¯s desk, and sitting right below it was a treasure chest. A chest made of beaver bones of gold, with an elaborate goat-skull lock on the front. ¡°Sheesh. Zero animal-to-animal solidarity on display in here,¡± Momo mumbled, horrified. ¡°It scares me to think of just how many beavers she had to kill to have that thing made.¡± Kami laughed, approaching the chest. Instead of picking at the lock with his menagerie of tools, he just turned to Ribeye and winked. ¡°Old fashioned way, then?¡± Ribeye said. Kami nodded. Ribeye proceeded to smash the skull-lock to bits. The chest opened easily after that. The booty included a set of enchanted bracers, three replacement tricorns, a heart-shaped locket with another goat-lady inside of it, and a mysterious keyring. Kami pocketed the keyring and the locket, and Momo got to keep the bracers. Some sort of arm-covering was one of the only things still missing from her carefully curated outfit. She usually didn¡¯t think much of her appearance, but she was seeing Sumire again soon. She wanted to look spiffy. She equipped the bracers, and a piece of parchment flew in through the cracked porthole.
You have equipped [Arms of the Bloody Buck]. Sewn of beaver skin, these bracers have been passed down from buck to buck in the Capricornus Clan for generations. They are enchanted with [Unarmed Proficiency] and [Metal Bone].
Momo studied the enchantments. [Unarmed Proficiency] basically did what it said on the tin, offering the user a Strength bonus when in unarmed combat. [Metal Bone] was a little more interesting.
[Metal Bone]: This item, plus all the skin it protects, becomes as hard as steel.
Oh nice. Now I¡¯m Marvel¡¯s Steel Man. Or whatever his name was. ¡°Equipment check,¡± Momo whispered to herself once she was left alone in the chambers. Kami and his crew had gone off to try out the other keys from the captain¡¯s keyring. To her surprise, the piece of parchment describing [Metal Bone] simply flipped over in her hands, her equipped item list now neatly written on the back of it. Huh, that¡¯s new. Usually I¡¯d get a whole new courier. Valerica must have started a new Nether recycling initiative.
Equipped Items Hat ¨C Captain Mandrake¡¯s Tricorn Mantle ¨C Momo¡¯s Cape Bracers ¨C Arms of the Bloody Buck Shirt ¨C Water-Resistant White Tailored Blouse Pants ¨C Netherthread Shapeshifting Trousers Shoes ¨C Fur-lined Lava-Repelling Clogs
All in all, the clothes that Lorvis had given her after her mayoral win in Nam¡¯Dal had held up well. She washed them in sea water every few days, then left them to dry under the hot sun. The rest of the crew was initially skeptical about her only wearing a singular outfit the entire trip, but what could she say; even to her clothes, Momo was loyal. And more importantly, lazy. Not only that, but the blouse and the pants had both been especially handy during her time at sea. The shirt for obvious reasons, but the trousers ability to shapeshift on command meant she could wear cropped breeches on the hot days, and loose-fitting slops when she wanted to lounge around. The clogs were a little more impractical, but there wasn¡¯t exactly anyone on the ship to swap shoes with. Kasula and Nyk would have both bitten her for even asking, and everyone else wasn¡¯t really her size. The door to the room creaked open. Kasula¡¯s head tipped in. ¡°Hey Momo,¡± she said, smirking. ¡°Cute bracers.¡± Momo jolted. ¡°Ah ¨C hi Kasula. Thanks. How¡¯s the appropriation of abandoned goods going?¡± ¡°You mean the stealing?¡± ¡°Of course I mean the stealing.¡± ¡°It¡¯s going swimmingly. We found another treasure room downstairs. It¡¯s got at least fifteen thousand in bank notes stashed away beneath the planks. How would you feel about a fifty fifty split? Half to your crew, half to ours.¡± Momo laughed. She looked down at Kasula¡¯s bulging pockets. ¡°Was that fifteen thousand before or after you stuffed as much of it as possible into your pants?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t have a single clue what you¡¯re talking about,¡± Kasula said, grinning wider. The two laughed some more, then Kasula left. Momo really didn¡¯t care about the money. She had money. Not only that, but she had clothes on her back, semi-trustworthy friends, a ship with only a few cannon-sized holes in it, and a cute pirate waiting for her back home. It was a middle-class American¡¯s dream. Plus, American dream or not, getting caught up in the little things wasn¡¯t useful for someone running on borrowed time. For as long as Sera¡¯s Wraith Box was burning a hole in her pocket, there was no saying how many moments Momo had left to enjoy on Alois. She wasn¡¯t going to waste them. Just as she was about to leave the captain¡¯s chambers, she noticed an uneven piece of wood jutting out from the wall next to the doorway. It looked like it had been jammed into the wall haphazardly, secured by a crooked, wobbly nail. Insatiably curious as always, Momo pried at it with her fingers. It came loose without much effort, clamoring the floor and revealing a crumpled piece of paper. Momo took it out and unfurled it. This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. Enough of your excuses, Caprico. You get back to Refuge¡¯s End with at least one of the daggers by Tuesday, or I¡¯m slitting her pretty little goat throat. Time¡¯s up. Yours truly, Celestina Momo frowned. Celestina? Wasn¡¯t that¡­ Komodo¡¯s new bullshit alias? Momo had almost forgotten her involvement in all this. If Momo recalled correctly, the Holy Resistance was led by three figureheads: Celestina (Komodo), Slythorn (Nia), and formerly Bellafor (Vivienne). Sumire had assured her that the movement was in shambles, but then again, she also didn¡¯t seem to know that it was Komodo who was running the new criminal enterprise in Refuge¡¯s End. Momo sighed. She had a lemur to talk to. ¡ª ¡°Kami,¡± Momo said, looking across the table at the lemur, who was sipping idly on a lemur-sized beer. ¡°I¡¯m going to need you to be incredibly real with me.¡± It was midnight, and the Revenge was mere hours away from shore. After a raucous Sea Chess tournament that involved the entire crew, most of them retired to their beds. Not Momo. Her mind was alive with worries: the Wraith Box, the alleged failure of the Holy Resistance, Jarva and his Circle of Brutes, and most worryingly, where to find a hair brush before she met up with Sumire. She found Kami similarly awake, lost in thought, his feet kicked up on a chair in the small crew lounge underdeck. ¡°Oh?¡± he answered, downing the rest of his bottle. ¡°Have I ever not been real with you, my dear Momo?¡± ¡°I can think of six instances in the past hour.¡± Kami grinned, his tail whipping. His beady red eyes were alight with inebriation. He was clearly a little drunk. This benefitted Momo. ¡°The Wraith Artifacts. That¡¯s the reason you came to the Vagrant Dunes, right? To collect the Soul Splitting Dagger and add it to your collection?¡± Kami hummed. He seemed intrigued by her choice of topic. ¡°Correct.¡± ¡°I keep hearing that word over and over again. Wraith. First the Wraith Box, then these Wraith Artifacts. It¡¯s kind of driving me insane. The terrifying little creatures are everywhere I look, especially in my more creative nightmares,¡± Momo muttered. ¡°I always thought it was a coincidence. But I¡¯m starting to think otherwise. Not to be an insane conspiracist, but I think these things are connected.¡± Momo slipped the piece of parchment over to him. ¡°It seems that the goat-pirate Nyk cannonballed to death was searching for the same thing as you. The Soul Splitting Dagger that Kasula nabbed off Zephyra. And that very same goat-pirate ¨C and this is where things start getting awfully strange ¨C was hired by my old friend, Komodo, the scary lizard lady that ran things out in Nam¡¯Dal. Nowadays, she¡¯s Sera¡¯s frontman. So that begs the question: why would Sera care about a stupid old dagger?¡± Kami¡¯s hand stilled, his bottle of beer freezing on the way to his mouth. After a moment, he set it down on the table, and readjusted his handkerchief. ¡°Are you implying something, my friend?¡± he whispered. The subsequent silence was deadly. Momo nearly curled into a ball, but she had to see this conversation through, social anxiety and fear for her life aside. If her hunch was right¡­ ¡°Yes,¡± Momo said bluntly, cheeks coloring. ¡°I am. I¡¯m implying that I¡¯m confused. You and Komodo have the same goal. But you¡¯re my friend, and Komodo has tried to kill me on many separate occasions. If you could just illuminate why that is, it¡¯d be very helpful.¡± Kami stared at her blankly for a few moments, then laughed. ¡°You know, Momo, there¡¯s a phrase that¡¯s said about you in the Nether. That you¡¯re Morgana¡¯s sheep in wolf¡¯s clothing. A benign little ball of wool dressed like a catastrophic threat.¡± Momo swallowed. ¡°How would you know that? You¡¯ve never been to the Nether, have you?¡¯ ¡°I haven¡¯t,¡± he chuckled. ¡°But Mordecai and I¡­ we chat. He warned me about you. Called you the goblin woollyback. But I think he has it wrong. I¡¯ve seen you in action. I¡¯ve seen you fight. More than that, I¡¯ve seen you talk. To others, to yourself, to the wall. It¡¯s not that you have an especially fine talent for phrase. It¡¯s that you have a delightful gift of disarming authenticity.¡± He picked up his beer, then threw it out the porthole. ¡°Thank you, I guess? But that¡¯s not really¡ª¡± ¡°So it turns out I like you,¡± Kami interjected, cutting her off. ¡°I really do. And I don¡¯t like many humans. You can tell from the company I keep. So because I like you, I¡¯ll let you in on a secret. But first you¡¯ll have to swear not to tell. How¡¯s that?¡± Momo nodded firmly. ¡°Of course. I swear on¡­ Dusk.¡± Kami chuckled, then fetched a single piece of gold from his pocket. He placed it on Komodo¡¯s letter. ¡°I fear you¡¯ll have to do better than that. Mordecai doesn¡¯t exactly like leaks. Kindly put a coin down.¡± Momo squinted, confused, but did as he said, extracting a coin from her pocket and placing it next to Kami¡¯s. Kami then took out a pocket knife, and wordlessly slit the palm of his hand. He didn¡¯t even flinch. Blood dribbled from the cut, drenching the two gold pieces. ¡°What the hell are you doing?¡± Momo yelped. ¡°[Thief¡¯s Promise],¡± he said, gritting his teeth. ¡°Now, your turn¨C¡± ¡°I¡¯m good, actually! Please get that knife away from me!¡± ¡°Do you want the information or not?¡± Momo squirmed. She did not like the sight or smell or feeling of blood leaking out of her hand. Still, she was too far into this now. She needed to know. Everything or nothing could hang on the information. ¡°Shit, shit, shit. Fine,¡± she said, quickly grabbing the knife. She bit her lip as she carved the smallest mark into her palm, letting a single drop of blood leak onto the gold. ¡°Wonderful,¡± Kami said. He then took her hand in a firm handshake. ¡°On thee gelt dies these words. On these words, dies thee gelt. Our lips are sealed.¡± The gold pieces melted into a puddle of golden goo. Momo immediately retracted her hand, shaking it in the air and wincing. ¡°I must warn you, if you tell this information to another soul, you will suffer a most unpleasant demise,¡± Kami said casually. ¡°Now that that¡¯s done with¡­¡± He settled back in his chair and sighed. ¡°Sera has entered into an agreement with my deity, Mordecai, God of Thievery and Trickery. And plenty more of the pantheon, too, although I do not know the specifics. She plans to use the power of the Wraith Box to unseat the Queen of Creation herself. To harness the combined power of all of Morgana¡¯s precious mortals against her. A very unpleasant, truly faithless scheme, but a scheme nonetheless. And Mordecai can hardly resist himself such a thing.¡± Momo¡¯s breath caught in her throat. No. ¡°You¡¯re lying.¡± ¡°Fear I¡¯m not,¡± Kami said. ¡°Have no reason to. These words die with us, after all.¡± Momo blinked, paralyzed. It was Morgana¡¯s greatest fear, materialized. The pantheon of companions which she created from her very bone and skin, which stood around, arms crossed and ambivalent, as the Nether dissolved into oblivion, had turned against her. It was too ridiculous and cruel to even conceptualize. Momo refused it. ¡°There¡¯s no way,¡± Momo said. ¡°First of all, Sera loves Morgana. It¡¯s like her mission in life to gain her approval. Why would she want to destroy her?¡± Kami shrugged. Momo continued her tirade. ¡°Also. Isn¡¯t Mordecai indebted to Morgana? Valerica told me a long time ago that she saved Mordecai from his brother, Neculai. The ugly vampire guy.¡± ¡°Yes, she did. But loyalty is not a common feeling amongst the gods. You should probably know that by now,¡± he said bluntly. His tone was cold, but not uncaring. ¡°I think it¡¯s something that happens once you ascend ¡ª you lose something. Mortality comes with morality, as they say. Good and evil lose their meaning when one cannot die. Perhaps that is what changed for Sera, too. Her original goals crumbled in the face of immortality.¡± Momo gripped the table, anger flaring in her throat. His words felt like ceaseless punches. ¡°I don¡¯t get it. I don¡¯t get it. That¡¯s not how things should work. Not dying should make us nicer, not meaner. It should let in more room for good things. Like more time to eat chinese food with your friends. More movies at the theater. More kicking back and fucking relaxing,¡± Momo shouted as she stood from her seat, the words flowing out of her like bile. ¡°I¡¯m so tired of backstabbing and betraying and caring about stupid things like money and power. It¡¯s all so worthless. It means nothing. People are what matters. Why doesn¡¯t everyone get that? Why don¡¯t the gods get that?¡± She took in a heavy, shaky breath, and sat back down. ¡°I knew I liked you for a reason,¡± Kami said, and held his new beer up. ¡°Cheers to that. And cheers to getting a scream outta you ¨C that¡¯s a rare, beautiful sight.¡± Momo sighed. The anger had gone as quickly as it came, but something had shifted in its wake. It was as if the fury had burnt right through the hard, unbreakable shell that had always entrapped her raw, true emotions; it was as if the net around her anger, around her rage, had finally torn, and water was flooding in like a tidal wave. ¡°Kami,¡± Momo said, gazing at him with a thousand-mile stare. ¡°I think it¡¯s my turn to tell you something.¡± Kami looked at her oddly. He had never seen Momo this still. This focused. ¡°Yeah?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± she said slowly. ¡°I¡¯m going to become a Lesser Goddess. And I¡¯m going to change everything.¡± 203 – Goodbyes By The Beachside When the Revenge docked in Mekna, it was met with a fate most gruesome. Cold-blooded, premeditated murder. Luckily, Momo and crew weren¡¯t aboard to see it happen. ¡°Damn,¡± Kasula remarked. ¡°Your instincts were spot on, Momo. If we had been on that ship, we would have been cooked. Rotisserie chicken style. Damn.¡± Their crowded escape boat bobbed along the seaside a hundred meters out from the Revenge, which was currently being assaulted by every means of weapon and ammunition available: spears, fire torches, pickaxes and crowbars, crossbows and spatulas. Just about every person in Mekna, from the hawkers to the waitresses, took part in the all-out attack. Unfortunately for the people of Mekna, the crew they were so gungho on murdering was already quite dead. A pack of skeletons now stood at the ship¡¯s helm, summoned by courtesy of the Revenge¡¯s previous necromancer captain. Luckily for Momo and crew, the boneguys were proving to be distraction enough. No one had seemed to spot their sorry little row boat yet. ¡°It wasn''t instinct,¡± Momo said, laughing as she paddled her oar. ¡°Nia accidentally tipped me off. She gave Vivienne a warning about coming back here, said that Kelly had been killed, and the entire town thought it was our doing. So I thought it¡¯d be best if we didn¡¯t sail directly to our deaths.¡± ¡°Why would they assume it was us? Ridiculous,¡± Kasula scoffed. ¡°Not to mention prejudiced. Just because we¡¯re pirates?¡± ¡°We¡¯re not pirates,¡± Ribeye corrected her. ¡°Not anymore. We drop that act right now and leave it to die at sea, or else we risk this entire getaway plan. Speaking of. Gita, have you gotten the story straight with the kids?¡± ¡°Aye, aye,¡± Gita said. ¡°They¡¯re all a bunch of sea orphans, ain¡¯t that right, kids?¡¯ The kids saluted her, rubbing furiously underneath their eyes to redden their cheeks and fake the appearance of sobbing. Gita had also dressed them in oversized sacks of flour to make them look smaller and malnourished. It scared Momo just how prepared these children were for evading the law. "What I don''t understand is how we''re floating on a giant¡­ mechanical wolf," Nyk said dryly, her fingers picking at the metallic lining of the massive rowing boat. ¡°The physics of it seems impossible at best.¡± The Revenge hadn''t come equipped with any escape boats, so they had been compelled to make do with what they had. And what they had was Vra¡¯ta. The wolf had expanded to its greatest length yet, forming a crew boat that was long enough to house every pirate and every pirate-child aboard the ship. Its legs had turned to oars, its body a concave deposit to sit within. ¡°And Kasula still dares to insinuate that dwarven engineering is lesser than,¡± Grimli sniffed, scornfully crossing his arms. ¡°Without Vra¡¯ta, you would be nothing but ash and bones at the bottom of the sea right now. Think about that.¡± ¡°Vra¡¯ta is a machine designed for transport, and it is transporting us. That does not make it exemplary,¡± Kasula responded, stubborn as ever. ¡°You would not compliment a pot for boiling.¡± ¡°Yes I would, if it were a dwarven pot.¡± Kasula rolled her eyes. ¡°Point made.¡± ¡ª They arrived in Mekna without much fuss; the town¡¯s residents had already turned to celebrating their victory against the boat and the bone-people by the time Momo docked ashore. She helped each of the children out of the wolf-boat, her maternal captain instincts kicking in. In turn, they saluted her, their faces brimming with excitement over the tales they would share with their parents and friends back home¡ªstories of their valor as mighty, fearless pirates; their triumphant battles against goat-women; how they sailed under the midnight sky. Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. Listening to their cheerful voices stirred a warm, fuzzy feeling within Momo¡ªa sense of nostalgia for the childhood experiences she had never known. Perhaps she had been too quick to judge Gita and Ribeye''s scheme. Life was different on Alois than it was on Earth. There were no training wheels on the bikes here. No bandaids on the ankles. You were just thrust into it, feet first, and you flapped your wings as hard as you could. Once the children had been organized into buddy pairs, hand in hand, Kami and his team joined Momo, forming a small, intimate circle on the beach''s edge. "So, my dear captain," Kami said, exhaling a puff of smoke from his pipe, "I''m afraid this is where we bid you adieu. It''s been quite the adventure serving under your... unconventional leadership." ¡°It was a pleasure to have you on my unconventional crew.¡± Momo returned his smile, though it was tinged with a bittersweet edge. After all that Kami had revealed, it was hard to look at him in quite the same way. Going by their conversation the night before, she knew exactly where the lemur would be heading next: Refuge¡¯s End. There, he¡¯d deliver the dagger to Komodo, receive a whopping amount of gold in return, and set out on Mordecai¡¯s next conquest. Momo had pressed him for details about the dagger''s purpose, but Kami had insisted it was merely a security deposit. The Wraith Artifacts were viewed as tributes to Sera, expressions of loyalty. Nothing more. She had briefly contemplated stealing it from him, just in case he was lying, but Kami was, above all, an Excalibur¡ªan Excalibur with an exceptionally capable and loyal crew. It would have been foolish for Momo to challenge him on a ship adrift in the ocean, just as it would have been reckless to confront him here, on the beach, in the presence of Mekna''s murder-happy residents. Momo had asked him if Kasula and the rest knew about the reality of the situation. He swore to her that they didn¡¯t. That they were blind as bats, following only the seductive scent of treasure and wealth. She wasn''t sure if that made her feel better or worse. Would they have refused the plan if they had known who they were working for? If it meant betraying their own deity to do what was right? Momo''s gut naively hoped they would, but her mind remained skeptical. God, would I even be brave enough to betray Morgana if it came down to it? She didn¡¯t know. She hoped, selfishly, it wouldn¡¯t come to that. ¡°If it isn¡¯t my sister¡¯s new best friend,¡± Kasula said with a smirk, drawing Momo from her tumultuous thoughts. ¡°I¡¯ll admit it, I¡¯m going to miss you, you rascal. Promise me something?¡± ¡°Um, maybe?¡± "Promise me you''ll keep sowing your unique brand of chaos,¡± she said, smiling softly. ¡°It¡¯s good for the planet, like fertilizer on dried out weeds.¡± ¡°Um,¡± Momo blushed. ¡°Sure. Got it.¡± ¡°Good.¡± With her farewells to the crew complete, Kami and his many children headed west, toward a familiar location¡ªthe undercanals. The same bustling underground rivers that Akram had once shown Momo many months ago. Man, Akram. She wondered how he was holding up. She pictured him, Sumire, and Nura as one big, happy, slightly insane family frolicking around Morganium. She couldn''t be more excited to return to them. Once the others had vanished into the caverns, only Nyk and Grimli remained on the beachside. Momo, having grown accustomed to the raucous laughter and ceaseless chatter of the ship, felt strangely uneasy in the silence. The only sounds accompanying her now were the lapping waves and the smoldering remnants of the Revenge, now reduced to a charred, blistering hunk of wood. ¡°So, queenling,¡± Nyk said, an eyebrow raised. ¡°What now?¡± ¡°Wait, you¡¯re not leaving?¡± Momo had been certain the dokkaebi would return to the Nether the moment they found Lione, but she didn''t. In fact, she stayed for the entire voyage back to Aloysius, dragging her feet the whole way. ¡°It¡¯d be a torture worse than death to leave you alone with this guy,¡± she said, motioning to Grimli. ¡°And if anyone¡¯s going to be torturing you, it¡¯s me. So no, I¡¯m not leaving.¡± Momo grinned. She wanted to say something, to pry deeper, but she figured the more she pressed, the more Nyk would bristle. Regardless, it was clear she had become¡­ invested, in some way, in Momo¡¯s continued survival. ¡°I¡¯m touched,¡± she said, completely genuine. ¡°Don¡¯t be,¡± Nyk said, scowling. ¡°It¡¯s purely a matter of business.¡± ¡°Right. Business.¡± Without pressing the matter any further, the business crew soon departed, riding on Vra''ta''s ever-transforming back toward Momo''s final destination¡ªMorganium. Oh, and on the way there, Momo received a little message in the Nether-mail.
Congratulations! For successfully navigating a voyage through the treacherous Barium Sea with no prior sailing experience, a hundred children in tow, and professional thieves lurking around every corner, you have earned the passive skill [Pirate¡¯s Charm] under your [Demagogue] class. [Pirate¡¯s Charm]: Fish fear you, sailors respect you. Once a week, you can cast Pirate¡¯s Charm on another person with a [Sailor], [Pirate], or other class under Nerida¡¯s domain, and compel them to work on your crew. This skill cannot be resisted, but be careful who use it on ¨C once the spell wears off, you might have hell to pay!
Momo grinned widely. Sumire¡¯s gonna love this one. 204 – Return of the Queen With Vra¡¯ta¡¯s astounding speed at their disposal, Momo and crew reached Morganium by week¡¯s end. The trip up north was unexpectedly sentimental for Momo, flooding her with nostalgia from beginning to end; it felt like piloting a sports car past all of her memories: villages, cities, and forests blurred by like hazy imitations of the real thing, haunting relics of the past. They traveled through Mole City, tall and gleaning, past Drachenheim and its dramatic peaks, past the woodlands where Kami¡¯s outpost once lay, until they were finally greeted by a sight Momo had only heard tales of ¡ª Morganium¡¯s Great Wall of Nether. The city¡¯s greatest tool of defense against holy and necromantic interlopers alike. The "wall" was no ordinary wall; instead, it formed a colossal sphere encircling the city. It looked quite like a soap bubble, shaded faintly black, extending from the banks of the surrounding rivers to the peaks of the city''s numerous steeples. At its base, ominous Nether flames erupted amidst the grass. The fields where the spherical barrier met the ground lay in ruins, scorched to a crisp and smelling like burnt toast. As they approached the wall, Vra¡¯ta heeled. Momo leaped off his side and treaded through the grass, feeling it tickle at her feet through her clogs. The grass was much taller than it was when she left, untrimmed, left like a tangled jungle. Momo wondered idly what other changes awaited her inside the fortress of a city ¡ª what people and places she wouldn¡¯t recognize. She stepped up to the barrier, hovering her hand just above the Nether. She felt a repellent force from it, like a polarized magnet acting against its other. The more she pushed down on the barrier, the greater the resistance became. The Nether sizzled with energy, flecks of black dancing on its surface like electricity flaring from a plug. ¡°Sumire never mentioned how we¡¯re actually supposed to get inside¡­¡± Momo realized, stepping away to rake her eyes up and down the sphere. It was decidedly impenetrable. ¡°We¡¯re dokkaebies, Momo,¡± Nyk said, sighing. ¡°How many times do I have to remind you?¡± Nyk effortlessly slid her foot through the barrier, the Nether repelling itself around her. When she was all the way through, the sphere made a pleasing thwop sound as it re-sealed itself. Momo stared at her in awe. Speechless, she tried poking it with her own finger, but she felt the same repelling feeling. ¡°I can¡¯t do that. Whatever you just did,¡± Momo said. ¡°The barrier just yells at me for trying.¡± Nyk raised an eyebrow. ¡°What? That makes no sense. We¡¯re made of Nether. The very material of our skin is Nether. It should not repel you, but attract you. It¡¯s a molecular thing.¡± ¡°Maybe it¡¯s because I¡¯m a fake dokkaebi? Like, not homegrown?¡± Nyk rolled her eyes. ¡°That would make no difference. This is a material problem, it¡¯s not about your upbringing.¡± Racking her brain, Momo thought of the true Dokkaebi form. Maybe that¡¯ll do it? ¡°[Polymorph - Dokkaebi],¡± she muttered. By now, the transformation felt no more unusual than putting on a pair of pants. After letting her new skin settle in, she reached towards the barrier once more. To her surprise, it let her pass without complaint. Her hand sunk through it like it was sinking through water. She grinned. ¡°I did it!¡± ¡°That you did,¡± Nyk observed dryly, then craned her head. ¡°But what about him?¡± She had her finger pointed at the silent Grimli, who was standing, blinking, and looking terribly unsure of himself as he gripped the now pocket-sized Vra¡¯ta in his sweaty hand. ¡°Oh it¡¯s fine, your highness, I really don¡¯t mind waiting outside,¡± he chuckled nervously. ¡°The green grass, the blue sky, it¡¯s all really a lovely destination for a rest¡ª¡± ¡°Don¡¯t be ridiculous. The grass is wet and itchy, Grimli, plus, it could be dangerous out here,¡± Momo said. ¡°We¡¯ll get you in. There¡¯s gotta be a way. I can¡¯t imagine they¡¯ve just cooped up every resident of Morganium in there permanently like some kind of prison.¡± Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. She paused, a shadow of doubt crossing her mind. ¡°Well¡­ that would definitely be Valerica¡¯s sense of humor. And seeing how she¡¯s running the System now¡­¡± Momo¡¯s mind trailed off. ¡°Sumire will know,¡± she finally said, clearing her throat. ¡°Just wait here, try not to get attacked by bandits or necromancers or holy knights, and we¡¯ll get you inside, alright?¡± Grimli nodded, laughing nervously. He dusted off the bed of grass beneath him as if it was a fresh mattress, then sat, spreading his legs out. His badly stained Momo Campaign T-Shirt rippled in the wind. ¡ª Just as she feared, the city was nothing like she remembered it. It was a completely changed ecosystem, come alive with artificial light, rampaging chickens, and the¡­ elevated societal status of skeletons? For whatever reason, the last part was somehow the most shocking piece to her; with most of the construction work completed, the undead had not only become the main menial workforce, but they had pivoted to becoming Morganium¡¯s new small business owners¡ªthe chefs, baristas, bookstore associates, artisanal bakers, pet groomers, fitness coaches, accountants, librarians, to name a few. The change was immediately obvious. She didn¡¯t even have to glance inside the mom and pop shops to tell you who was running them now; all it took was a quick look at the signage. It was immaculately constructed, precise to the very inch, but the ¡­ creative ¡­ names of the businesses painted upon them were a dead giveaway. They were like something a zombie might gurgle. An insane butchering of the language beyond the capacity of mortal man. Some examples, to illustrate her point: the bustling coffee shop in the fifth ring of the city, aptly named Caw¡¯w¡¯wafae; a cozy bookstore called Bueeeks; a bakery called Bababa-brot. The only sign that Momo could read without inspiring a migraine was This is Pizza, her and Sumire¡¯s regular Italian spot. It was owned by a skeleton, too, but one who was at least smart enough to outsource the reading and writing tasks to those with more advanced mental faculties. What was even stranger, somehow, was how the living, breathing residents of Morganium had begun to adopt the undead¡¯s naming conventions and habits of speaking. As she walked the streets, Momo heard a raven ask a goblin if he wanted to get ¡°booouks at the booouukstow,¡± to which the goblin replied, ¡°no, I don¡¯t pay mun-y for my booouks ever since the liberry opened.¡± Momo wasn¡¯t sure how to feel knowing that her necromantic takeover of the city had unwittingly created a regional dialect. Mostly, she felt like her ears were bleeding. Only a few residents actually recognized her as she strolled towards the city¡¯s central ring. A few of the younger children asked for autographs, but most of the city¡¯s populace just sneered and spit at her. Some particularly incensed townies tried directly assaulting her with tomatoes and other varieties of anti-royalty vegetables, but Nyk quickly made them regret it. A true politician¡¯s welcome, Momo thought. While the commercial rings had mostly remained unchanged when it came to electrical infrastructure, the city transformed as she inched towards the residential sections. Sumire hadn¡¯t been lying¡ªthe electricity, or, sorry, chicken electricity, had absolutely revolutionized the housing quarter. Where most of the city¡¯s high-falutin rich people used to have elaborate mobile housing contraptions in the street, those same people now lived atop the concrete jungle, in penthouses and floating homes, neon lights hanging from their terraces. This left the apartment¡¯s former tenants, Morganium¡¯s poor and middle class, to flock to the streets, adopting the old mobile homes which lay there abandoned. Look at that. You give people earthly electricity, and they recreate earthly poverty. The city now looked a lot like her home of San Francisco, only with a whole lot more chickens running up and down the block. And it wasn¡¯t just the block that the chickens were running; they were practically the city¡¯s mafia. Ginormous billboards and tapestries, once painted with the cephalopod faces of Jarva and his son, now all displayed pictures of Baryte, Viktor¡¯s old chicken and the face of the continent¡¯s new favorite religion. A development which I very much encouraged publicly, she reminded herself miserably. The billboards were, of course, only a sampling of the fowl derangement which had overtaken the capital. Churches had sprung up in the city¡¯s every crevice, giant towers of stone painted yellow like the fallen feathers of their undead god. Queues looped around the block for services and prayers, opportunities to kneel at the altar of the holy poultry. Momo recognized a few of the priests working the entrances, collecting tolls and donations; they were Brother Hencrest and Brother Cluckfeather, the devout who had introduced Momo to Mole City when she first arrived. ¡°This is your capital?¡± Nyk said, hiding none of her disdain. ¡°Well,¡± Momo mumbled. ¡°It was a little different before I left.¡± They entered the second ring, and encountered the casino, which had been rebranded away from seafood and towards ¨C you guessed it ¨C chicken. All the prizes were chickens, either live and squawking, or stuffed and made of cotton. Children held the stuffed animals close to their chests as they left, their spending-happy parents carrying cages upon cages of birds. ¡°Alright. This is my stop,¡± Nyk said, halting by the casino¡¯s door. ¡°Valerica gave me a bit of Aloysian spending money, and I also stole everything you won off that goat-pirate. So I¡¯m going to go have me a good time. Cheers.¡± Nyk turned towards the casino, knocked out the doorman when he asked for an entrance fee, and disappeared into a sea of people. Momo didn¡¯t mind the solitude. She kind of needed it. Seeing the city like this was a lot to process, and on top of everything with the Wraith Box, and with Sera, and Kami, and Valerica¡­ her gerbil-powered heart was already running on overdrive, at constant risk of sputtering out. But nothing, not the threat of death, or all-out planetary destruction, made it beat faster than when she knocked three times on Sumire¡¯s door. ¡­ ¡°Coming!¡± 205 – Like Holding a Beating Heart The door shuttered open, its rusty hinges creaking. A stream of music carried out along with it, echoing from a small, janky radio in the corner of the living room. It was like something Momo would have had as a child ¨C barely modern, with batteries that were burning a hole in the device¡¯s innards. One of Viktor¡¯s experiments, Momo was sure, but a wonderful one. It was playing something like soft jazz. With the music, came the girl; Momo saw her nails first, long and painted, tapping on the door handle. Then came the rest of her, a figure still as striking as the first day they met; five feet and eight inches of messy elegance wrapped in a paint-stained apron. Easels lurked behind her, evidence of an interrupted art session. ¡°Nura, I swear, you know this is my me time. I told you I¡¯d meet you at the pizza spot later ¨C¡± Sumire looked up, the words dying in her mouth when she saw who was really standing in front of her. Her mouth opened and closed, her throat wobbled. This continued for several silent seconds, the tension between them hanging more precarious than a car tipped over a mountainside. Momo urged her mouth to speak, but the oppressive force of a million unsaid words, a trillion unconfessed feelings clamped around her throat. As many times as you could imagine a reunion in your head, nothing quite felt like the real thing. She had a ginormous, immovable peach pit in her throat; her eyes had already become pitifully watery. The ground beneath her felt like quicksand¡ªher feet slowly descending into it like two dumbbells. ¡°Momo,¡± Sumire said. She blinked quickly, saying nothing more. Momo wasn¡¯t used to catching Sumire this dumbfounded. So utterly stunned. It was a rare look for the pirate, who was predisposed to precaution and preparation, never one to be caught off guard. She tended to keep her emotions close to the chest, not written all over her features. Much unlike Momo, who wore every insecurity on her face like a badge of honor. ¡°Hi,¡± Momo mumbled. ¡°I¡¯m back.¡± ¡°I can see that.¡± ¡°Yeah.¡± As the two stared blankly at each other, something began to build in Momo¡¯s stomach. Like a bundle of nerves that was ready to burst. Sumire sighed. ¡°Why don¡¯t you come in¡ª¡± That brewing feeling inside Momo suddenly unwound, coming undone. In a bout of derangement, she cut the other woman off, walked forward and pressed her body flush to Sumire¡¯s. ¡°Oh,¡± Sumire mumbled as Momo cupped the side of her cheek. ¡°Okay ¡ª¡± Momo wasn¡¯t sure what overcame her, it was like a bodily possession. That same sort of rage that had overwhelmed her back on the boat, talking to Kami, manifested itself here in a different form; it wasn¡¯t anger, but impatience. Exhaustion from all those days away, from all that useless time spent trying to convince other people she was worth their time, when the single person whose opinion she cared about was right here, in front of her, braids tied up in a messy bun, eyes wide and brown and breathtaking. Momo crashed her lips into Sumire¡¯s, closing her eyes tightly. Sumire leaned into it with an uncanny softness, still stunned, but inviting. She led Momo backwards, shutting the door quickly behind her. The two treaded blindly through the room, trying their best not to knock anything over. Well, Sumire was trying¡ªMomo was not; Momo was utterly consumed. She held Sumire¡¯s face with both hands, kissing her over and over like it was the last thing she might do. It might as well be. The thought struck Momo like a stake; she felt the everpresent curse of Sera¡¯s box in her pocket. Her breath caught in her throat, but she shoved it down, determined to live only in this fleeting moment, to say fuck it to everything else. She moved her lips from Sumire¡¯s mouth to her throat, smiled stupidly against her nape as Sumire laughed. If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. ¡°Mo, watch out¡­¡± Sumire laughed. Momo kissed her cheek, and one of her horns knocked at Sumire¡¯s forehead. ¡°Momo, ow.¡± Momo pulled away, pupils fully dilated. ¡°S ¨C sorry,¡± she stuttered. ¡°Are you okay? I didn¡¯t mean to¨C¡± ¡°Relax,¡± Sumire said. She bit her lip, running her fingers over the red spot forming on her forehead. ¡°You didn¡¯t gore me¡­ yet.¡± Momo blushed profusely, covering her face with her hands. ¡°I have no idea what just came over me,¡± she mumbled. ¡°I ¨C I hope that was okay.¡± Sumire just laughed. She pulled at the collar of Momo¡¯s shirt, bringing her forward. ¡°I would have been upset if you had done anything else,¡± she said lowly, her brown eyes locking onto Momo¡¯s like a sniper rifle. ¡°But it does beg a few questions. You¡¯ve never kissed me like that before. Actually, I don¡¯t think you¡¯ve ever kissed me, period.¡± Sumire drew her thumb over Momo¡¯s lips, and Momo¡¯s blush deepened. ¡°Did the road change you?¡± Sumire continued, teasing. ¡°Or was it the sea?¡± ¡°Neither. Both,¡± Momo answered honestly, using the last of her fading audacity to wrap her arms around Sumire¡¯s middle. The other woman grinned wider. ¡°Look, there¡¯s something¡­ there¡¯s something I need to tell you about. It¡¯s about Sera, and this device¡ª¡± ¡°No,¡± Sumire said, then laughed at Momo¡¯s expression. ¡°You can kill the mood later. But you are not bringing that name into this room. You are bringing those horns into my bedroom, and then maybe onto my couch, and then we can talk shop. Got it?¡± Momo swallowed hard, her throat bobbing. ¡°Got it.¡± ¡ª The afternoon dragged on like an aged wine, fuzzy and sweaty and ravenously red. It was like nothing Momo had experienced before in her life on Earth. One: because she had died a virgin, and two: because she had never felt love like this: rabid enamoration that felt like spiritual possession; endless craving, lust, a quiet kind of safety. The kind of thing where it feels like you¡¯re holding someone¡¯s beating heart in your hands, squeezing it just a little, but not enough to hurt. ¡°You know, part of me never thought you¡¯d come back,¡± Sumire confessed casually. They were splayed, as promised, on Sumire¡¯s couch, holding hands and staring at the ceiling. ¡°Like you might just die in my letters. Isn¡¯t that poetic?¡± ¡°I¡¯d say it¡¯s morbid, actually,¡± Momo laughed. ¡°But that¡¯s kind of your thing.¡± ¡°I have no idea what you¡¯re talking about. I¡¯m as flowery and cute as it gets.¡± ¡°You threatened to kill me, then actually tried to kill me¡ª¡± ¡°Ugh, for how long are you going to hold that over my head?¡± ¡°For as long as you held that blade to my throat, probably.¡± Sumire scoffed. ¡°So for only a few seconds. And yet it¡¯s been months¡ª¡± ¡°Six, actually,¡± Momo said, sitting up. ¡°Six months. I¡¯ve been counting.¡± Sumire mirrored her. ¡°Have you?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± Momo said, cheeks reddening. ¡°Six months and five days. I think. I was never great with math. But I painted you something, like an anniversary gift¡­¡± Momo reached over the couch for her backpack, retrieving her art notebook. It occurred to her, briefly, that Sumire was the first person she¡¯d ever shown the notebook to. Not even her professors had been privy to the intimate pages of her moleskin. It felt almost as intimate as what they had done thirty minutes before, a tangle of limbs and horns on Sumire¡¯s velvet mattress. Smiling nervously, she handed the drawing to Sumire. It was the portrait she did of her weeks ago, when she had been riding through the hot dunes to Karahtan. ¡°I¡¯m nowhere as good a painter as you are,¡± Momo said. ¡°But I tried. Don¡¯t laugh.¡± ¡°I would never.¡± Sumire took the drawing. For a minute, she just stared at it, eyes wide and lips faintly parted. She didn¡¯t laugh, she didn¡¯t even blink, she just¡­ looked. A shadow of vulnerability lay over her face, as if Momo had picked at her very soul with a tweezer. ¡°This is really how you see me, then?¡± That question took Momo aback¡ªthe other girl¡¯s tone was neither positive nor negative. ¡°I mean, like I said, I¡¯m not good, by any means. So please don¡¯t be offended. I literally was about to fail out of college when I ended up in this place¡­¡± ¡°Momo,¡± Sumire said, looking up. ¡°It¡¯s beautiful. It looks like me.¡± ¡°Oh,¡± Momo said, heavily relieved. ¡°It does?¡± ¡°All that time with Roland¡­ I never painted a self-portrait. All I knew of myself was the image I had in my mind. The image of a haunted, slowly dying drudge, stuck under that torturous shall,¡± Sumire said, caressing the picture softly. ¡°To see myself like this¡ªsmiling, grinning like there¡¯s nothing weighing me down. It¡¯s¡­ I can¡¯t really put it into words, honestly.¡± She placed the drawing on her coffee table and smoothed it out. ¡°I¡¯ll have it framed,¡± she said, decidedly. Momo¡¯s heart nearly burst. Then Sumire took a breath in. She leaned over and took Momo¡¯s hands, holding them tightly. ¡°Now,¡± she said. ¡°Let¡¯s get a bite to eat, and you can tell me all about the S-word.¡± 206 – Partners Momo and Sumire strolled down the streets of the first circle, burrito sauce leaking onto their hands. They had decided to try a new place, Brito: No Chickn, due to the fact that it had one of the more decipherable restaurant names in the city. Of course, its name was ridiculous for other reasons¡ªthe No Chickn was a tragic testament to just how poultry-controlled the place had become, but alas. After doing a lap through Morganium Central Park, marveling at the new infrastructure installed by the skeletal army, they settled on two benches by the pond. The bonemen had constructed a stone fountain there at Momo¡¯s request; it was a perfectly chiseled rendition of Morgana, blood pooling under her feet. The statue was reminiscent of the one back at the Dawn, a piece of nostalgia that Momo wanted to carry with her in the new capital. ¡°I can¡¯t believe you¡¯ve actually met her,¡± Sumire said in disbelief, motioning to Morgana. ¡°The queen goddess of literally everything managed to make time for you, meanwhile Nerida never once gave me the time of day. Even before I converted to Jarva¡¯s flock.¡± Momo shook her head. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t compare yourself to me. I just so happened to be the sidekick of Morgana¡¯s teacher¡¯s pet. I kind of got nepotism-ed in.¡± Sumire laughed. ¡°It¡¯s still hard to believe that¡¯s really how you got here. Summoned from a whole other planet by the giggling psychopath you call a mentor. I always knew I¡¯d end up dating someone foreign¡ªthe seas were slim pickings¡ªbut you went above and beyond, literally.¡± ¡°Not by choice,¡± Momo mumbled. ¡°No,¡± Sumire agreed. ¡°But would you change it?¡± The question caught Momo off guard. Sumire was looking at her with a quiet intensity, obviously invested in the answer. ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t know,¡± Momo said, looking down at her hands. ¡°Of course, it would have been nice if I hadn¡¯t died. Food poisoning is still a horribly embarrassing way to go. But I think I would have rather lived this life than lived nothing at all. Floating around in eternal darkness seems way more boring than being Valerica¡¯s errand boy.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not what I meant.¡± ¡°Oh?¡± Momo said, cheeks coloring. ¡°I must have misunderstood¡ª¡± ¡°I meant,¡± Sumire said, interjecting before Momo could apologize. ¡°If you could, right now, would you go back to your life on Earth? And don¡¯t get all sappy and say something about how¡¯d you miss me. I already know that. What I¡¯m asking is¡­ don¡¯t you miss everyone you left behind? I couldn¡¯t imagine being torn from Nura like that. So suddenly. If it were me in your shoes, I¡¯d be fighting tooth and nail to get back to Alois.¡± Momo bit her lip, suddenly embarrassed. ¡°I¡­¡± She swallowed. ¡°It wasn¡¯t like that for me.¡± Sumire squinted. ¡°Did you not have a family?¡± ¡°I did ¨C I do,¡± Momo said, correcting herself. ¡°But¡­ I just let them down so many times. It got to this irredeemable point, you know? Like I was constantly fighting this quicksand, and I didn¡¯t want to drag them down with me. So I figured cutting them out was better than letting them see me like that.¡± ¡°Momo¡­ what?¡± Sumire laughed incredulously. ¡°That¡¯s not how love works. It¡¯s not something you decide for other people. If you were drowning in quicksand, I¡¯d offer you a hand. I wouldn¡¯t care if you were swatting it away. I¡¯d pull you up without your damn permission. It¡¯s as simple as that. It¡¯s what I¡¯d do for anyone I care about.¡± ¡°Yeah, but that¡¯s because you¡¯re you. My parents are different. They have these very specific values. It¡¯s just the way they grew up. They had this report card for me, and I was basically tearing a hole in it, crumpling it up, and burning it in a fire.¡± ¡°Good. That¡¯s what children are supposed to do. You know¡ªback when I was eight, nine, ten¡ªI kicked my uncle in the nuts like a goddamn horse after he told me I couldn¡¯t be a sea scavenger. It was a man¡¯s job, he said, so I saw no other solution but to kick him straight in the jimmies. He strung me up on the nets for a few hours afterwards, but I did the same thing again and again, undeterred. It¡¯s called having a backbone. A personality. Eventually he got used to it. Stopped trying to make me something I wasn¡¯t. He even gave me my first scimitar.¡± Momo grinned at her as she told the story, utterly smitten. It was so easy to imagine little Sumire as that confident child¡ªwith her big, unstoppable grin, her braids catching in the wind, her big brown eyes looking out at the vast sea and seeing a future in it. Momo had never had that same keen sense about her destiny. She was never one of those kids who wanted to be a vet or a nurse or an author. She never had any sort of conviction or long-term goals. Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! No, it was quite the contrary: whenever she imagined her future, even at the ripe age of eight, all she saw was a gaping, beckoning void. And a few cats, maybe. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Momo said. ¡°Maybe you¡¯re right. But you were only like that because you were a brave kid. I wasn¡¯t a brave kid. I got intimidated by stuffed animals. My high school teachers thought I was selectively mute. I can say a few more words now,sure, but I¡¯m definitely not a brave adult, either. I¡¯ve gotten a little stronger, maybe¡ªI could blow a clocktower down if I tried¡ªbut when I think of facing my parents again, or my little brother¡­ I feel just as small and weak as I did when I got here. Like nothing¡¯s changed at all.¡± She rubbed her thumbs together, dread creeping up her limbs just thinking about it. Sumire put her own hand over Momo¡¯s, stopping the anxious tick. ¡°I think you¡¯re plenty brave, Momo,¡± she said, an unusual gravity to her voice. ¡°What you are is stupid for not seeing it. I mean, look at you¡ªthe queen of a fucking nation. You managed not only to find your way in an entirely foreign world, but you ascended to higher places than most locals do in their whole life. I don¡¯t care if you don¡¯t see it, because I see it. You could stroll up to your parents right now and they¡¯d see it too. You¡¯ve changed.¡± The words hit Momo like gentle punches to the jugular. She just looked at Sumire and gripped her hands tightly, hoping she wouldn¡¯t float away. ¡°Anyway. I think our burritos are getting cold,¡± Sumire said, breaking the fragile silence. ¡°And you wanted to tell me about something.¡± ¡°R¨Cright,¡± Momo said. ¡°I did. But I think it¡¯s better if I show you.¡± She reached into her pocket and exposed the Wraith Box. It sat there, quiet and still. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± ¡°Sera¡¯s latest invention,¡± Momo said, then went on to explain all of the events that had arisen since the two last saw each other. The campaign trail, the impersonated letter, Nyk¡¯s failed assassination attempt, Lione¡¯s possession and consequent revelation. She wanted to tell her about Kami¡¯s admission, too, but her lips were sealed shut. She didn¡¯t want to invoke the wrath of that [Thief¡¯s Promise]. ¡°So that Lione woman thinks you¡¯re the marked one?¡± Sumire said, frowning. ¡°The person whose death would¡­ detonate the thing?¡± ¡°Yeah.¡± ¡°Jolly.¡± Momo snorted. ¡°I thought you¡¯d be a little bit more upset,¡± she said. ¡°Of course I¡¯m upset,¡± Sumire responded, shoving Momo playfully on the shoulder. ¡°But I¡¯m upset every day of my goddamn life knowing I could have found you sooner. Our days are always numbered, and our lives are always under threat¡ªI don¡¯t see how this is any different.¡± ¡°But Sumire¡­¡± Momo said, fiddling with her hands. ¡°It is different. If I died here, in Morganium, I could hurt people. I could hurt you.¡± ¡°So just don¡¯t die then,¡± Sumire said, growing agitated. ¡°I wish it was that simple.¡± Sumire groaned, tossing her burrito into the statue¡¯s bubbling base. The blood-hungry piranhas devoured its contents in seconds. ¡°I¡¯m not losing you again, Momo. It was a mistake the first time. I should have never forced you to go on that stupid campaign trail. I was thinking only as your advisor¡­ not as your¡­¡± Sumire swallowed, inhaling sharply. ¡°I want us to be more than comrades-with-benefits,¡± she said, turning to Momo with an urgency. Her face was flushed, burnt red with adrenaline. ¡°I want us to be¡­ partners. The kind that live together, share meals together, who sketch terrible portraits and spill paint on the carpet. I want that kind of permanence that never existed on the high seas; that kind of reliability where I know you¡¯ll just be there in the morning. Not in prison, or underwater.¡± The woman paused, her breath shaking. Momo¡¯s entire world felt like it was hanging on Sumire¡¯s lips. ¡°I don¡¯t want you to go off on the road again, hoping to detonate in some far corner of a desolate field,¡± she said, exasperated. ¡°I want you to stay and see this through with me, no matter the ending. I know it¡¯s selfish, and childish, and illogical¡ªbut that¡¯s the kind of person I never got to be. One who made decisions based on something as fleeting as feelings. So now I¡¯m laying my heart out for you to devour, if you must. But at least I can say I tried.¡± Sumire looked away, her body language like that of a wounded animal. It tore Momo in two. ¡°Sumire,¡± she said, tears dripping down her face as she put a comforting hand on the other woman¡¯s knee. ¡°I want that too. Actually, I want that more than anything. You. A comfortable mattress. A stupid, undead cat mewling for breakfast. I want that life. But first, I need you to help me do something of my own, too. Something a little brave and selfish and illogical.¡± Sumire nodded, wiping at her eyes. ¡°Gods¡ªlook at me now. Weeping like a child. Anything you ask, Momo,¡± she said, sticking her hand out as a promise. ¡°If we¡¯re going to be partners, then that¡¯s what I¡¯m signing up for.¡± Momo took her hand in hers, squeezing softly. ¡°I¡¯m done letting other people pick my fate for me,¡± Momo said. ¡°I¡¯m not going to wait around for Valerica or Morgana to give me orders, or for Sera to jolt me with lightning, or for the insane, chicken-worshiping citizens of this nation to tell me I¡¯m good enough. I¡¯m never going to be.¡± She gripped the Wraith Box in her hand. Her vision blurred until she could see the soul chains whipping out of it, hundreds of them, crying out for mercy. ¡°I¡¯m going to become an Excalibur faster than anyone ever has. And a Lesser Goddess after that,¡± she said, her grip tightening. ¡°Until I can heal every soul chain screaming in this box.¡± She put the device back in her pocket, took Sumire¡¯s hand, and gave her a watery, confident smile. The pirate woman shared it, squeezing her hand back. ¡°A queen¡¯s confidence,¡± she said. ¡°I like it.¡± ¡°I¡¯m trying,¡± Momo laughed. ¡°So what¡¯s the plan?¡± Sumire said. ¡°What¡¯s our first step, captain?¡± ¡°First step?¡± Momo said, eyebrows raising. ¡°Our first step is¡­ no more playing on the defensive. No more waiting around. We¡¯re luring that tentacled menace called Jarva right to our doorway. I think it¡¯s time for a sashimi special.¡± 207 – Luring The Tentacled Menace The newly renovated Royal Court of Morganium sat high above the city like a perching seagull, an ivory tower that gazed upon fields of undead, pizzerias and chicken daycare centers, bakeries and botanicals. The court was an intimate room, with a throne made of bone¡ªby Valerica¡¯s suggestion¡ªa tea table made of sinew¡ªby Valerica¡¯s suggestion¡ªand, finally, a cat bed, suggested by, actually¡­ you can guess who. There were also a few regular chairs strewn about the place, in case anyone actually cared to sit and discuss something. Radu dragged one of those chairs to the very center of the room, straddled it backwards and slung his scaly arms over the wood. He was wearing his ceremonial Dragon wear¡ªa feathered cap, a fake beak that was strung along his neck like a discarded pandemic mask, and gold and silver jewelry that stuck out of his scales like exposed nails. Momo hadn¡¯t seen him in quite awhile, and she noticed a new exhaustion about him. A tiredness that wore at his usual boyish charm. The natural consequences of becoming a monarch. ¡°Sheesh. You look like you could sleep through an earthquake,¡± Momo whispered, pulling up a chair next to him. He just glared at her, sighed, and hung his head over the chair. ¡°Is this everyone?¡± Sumire said, yawning. The Military Advisor was sitting on the boney throne, legs kicked over it like it was a beach chair. She had an unfurled map of Alois extended between her hands, studying it carefully as the line of invited guests crawled into the room. The grand, gold-plated doorway clicked with a magical lock as the last person entered¡ªor, well, the last chicken, as it was now customary to bring the little birds to all events of importance, and non-importance. In attendance were Momo¡¯s most trusted officials: Teddy, the shapeshifter that had been wearing her face for the past few months, keeping up appearances¡ªliterally and figuratively¡ªwhile she was away; Radu, Dragon-in-Training and noted Friend of the Queendom, and finally, Viktor Mole, former Mayor of Mole City and the capital¡¯s newly appointed Chief Chicken Engineer. Grimli was also there, sitting silently and enjoying the fact that they had finally remembered to fetch him from outside the city walls. ¡°Yeah, this is everyone,¡± Momo said, hopping off her chair and clapping. She turned to face all of the attendants. ¡°Thanks for coming, guys. Also, it¡¯s nice to see you.¡± ¡°Gods is it good to see you, Momo,¡± Teddy groaned. His skin was more wrinkled than usual, folded up like a creased leather bag¡ªa consequence of too much polymorphing. ¡°If I had to walk around in your body a day longer, I was about to suffer a mental break. And a physical one, too. Did you know one of your legs is a little longer than the other? It¡¯s terrible.¡± Momo frowned. ¡°Um¡­ no. Sorry, I guess?¡± He shrugged. ¡°Eh. Been through worse. Once I had to spend an entire week as a horse.¡± She blinked at him, trying to find the words. She failed. ¡°Okay¡­ moving on,¡± she said, turning to Sumire. ¡°Mire, are you ready?¡± ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am.¡± Momo blushed as Sumire strolled up to her. The pirate splayed the map on the floor and ran her thumb down the center. Momo had never seen such a detailed map of Alois before yesterday, when Sumire had taken it out of one of her treasured glass bottles and taught her a lesson in Aloisian geography. You see, the map was all-encompassing: it spanned all the way from Aloysius to the Vagrant Dunes, detailing the small islands in the middle, and the northern landmasses that Momo had yet to explore by ship or on foot. This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. Just above the Vagrant Dunes was another large stretch of land, but it was separated from the lower continent by an uncrossable body of water called the Poison Belt. Sumire had explained to her that the Poison Belt wrapped around the circumference of the planet, dividing the globe into two portions: the Lower Waters, where Aloysius and the Dunes sat, and the Higher Waters, where the Elven Empire and the Orcish Mists were. Also situated in the High Waters, just west of the Elven Empire, was a stretch of islands called the Inhabitables. They weren¡¯t actually inhabitable, as the name might suggest, but highly fertile, lush landscapes; the only problem was¡­ they were cursed by the Gods, Sumire explained. Long ago, an ancient pact was made by several deities of the pantheon to protect the place from ever being disturbed. Until now, at least. ¡°Every damn tome I read says the same thing¡ªno one can break through the pact protecting the Inhabitables,¡± Sumire said, circling the islands with her fingertip. ¡°But our spies come back with the same information every time. They see Jarva¡¯s boats float towards the Poison Belt, disappear, and suddenly reappear on the shores of the islands. Like they¡¯re using some sort of teleportation witchery.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t see why it matters what dumb island the octopus is hiding out on,¡± Teddy said. ¡°It¡¯s like Momo told us: the plan is to lure him here: hook, line, sinker.¡± ¡°It matters because if he was able to infiltrate the Inhabitables, then he has access to some kind of¡­ special magic. A potential advantage,¡± Sumire grumbled. ¡°I don¡¯t like potential advantages.¡± Momo rubbed the other woman¡¯s back. ¡°There there, Miss. Mopey Military Advisor,¡± she said, grinning. ¡°I¡¯ve never once been up against an enemy who didn¡¯t have the upper hand. It¡¯s kind of my whole shebang.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t understand that silly word¡ªshebang,¡± Sumire said, toying the syllables around in her mouth. Momo thought her Barium Sea accent made it even cuter. ¡°Do all earthlings just go around inventing silly words like that?¡± ¡°I could say the same, you know.¡± ¡°To get back on topic,¡± Radu said, sighing. ¡°We were discussing how to lure Jarva into invading Morganium prematurely. Sumire suggested human sacrificing that captured Knight of the Sun Gorim in the city square, which Momo vetoed, thank you Momo¡­ Teddy was saying¡ª¡± ¡°¡ªthat we should just not bother with all that luring business, and just go find out what¡¯s so special about those islands ourselves, maybe there¡¯s some treasure there¡ª¡± ¡°Thank you Teddy,¡± Radu said dryly, cutting him off. ¡°But what me and Viktor propose, as much as it pains me physically to agree with Viktor, is that Momo¡­¡± ¡°Resigns,¡± Viktor says brightly. ¡°And leaves the city to me.¡± ¡°Which would be a show of such disturbing stupidity,¡± Sumire interjected grimly, ¡°that the holy squid will have no other choice but to take the opportunity? Yeah, I don¡¯t buy it. Not to mention it would ruin months of Momo¡¯s hard work in getting the people to her side. I¡¯m not letting her do that.¡± ¡°No chance I¡¯m letting myself do that, either,¡± Momo said, frowning. ¡°I ran away from this job twice now. I¡¯m not doing it again. We¡¯re going with Sumire¡¯s idea.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry, human sacrifice is somehow more noble than abandoning office?¡± Radu balked. ¡°You didn¡¯t let me finish,¡± Momo said, throwing a hand up. ¡°Sumire, can you please tell them what you told me?¡± The three of them turned expectantly towards the pirate-knight, who grinned wide. From beside her map, she took a book out of her satchel. It was a thick, gruesome tome. On the front, emblazoned in gold lettering was the title: A Holy Knight¡¯s Duties, Expectations, and Vows. ¡°Just a little something from my days as one of Jarva¡¯s watch dogs¡­¡± she drawled. She turned to page two-hundred and three, which had been bookmarked. ¡°Quick, pop quiz¡ªdo you all know how many Knights of the Sun there are?¡± ¡°Eight,¡± Radu quickly piped up. ¡°Nerd,¡± Momo said. But he was right, she realized, recalling the invasion on the Revenge. Gorim announced that he was the eighth and final member of Kyros¡¯s Excaliburs. ¡°Yes. Good,¡± Sumire said, then proceeded to read from the page. ¡°Vow twenty six. When a Holy Knight is admitted to the Circle of the Sun, he becomes one of Jarva¡¯s eight tendrils. A part of his soul is fused with that of the king, and when he is cut¡ªso is the king. When he bleeds, so does the master. So if you are bleeding, do not wither, end it swiftly, or end yourself.¡± A momentary silence passed over the room, all eyes drifting slowly from Sumire to Momo. ¡°Momo,¡± Radu said, eyes widening slowly. ¡°What on Alois are you planning?¡± Momo¡¯s face heated, and she evaded his judgemental gaze. ¡°Come on,¡± she mumbled. ¡°What¡¯s a little tiny bit of torture for a good cause?¡±
Congratulations! You have gained a level in Demagogue!
208 – Blood of Kyros
Congratulations! You have reached level 3 in Demagogue! At level 3, you can now choose which branch of Demagoguery to specialize in¡ªthe Charisma-focused Master Manipulator, or the combat-focused Chaos Commander. These are called class subspecialties, or subclasses.
The Master Manipulator subclass gains the following skills upon leveling up:
  • [Sow Conspiracy]: If your Charisma is higher than the target, plant a highly contagious conspiracy in their head that they will spread to others.
  • [Illusion of the Other]: Create an illusory figure that represents whatever your target fears most¡ªa vampire, a werewolf, a dreaded middle school math teacher. This works on all targets, even those with Charisma higher than your own.
  • [Cult of Personality II] -> [Cult of Personality III]: You can appoint up to 10 Loyal Followers, and each of those followers gains bonuses in Stealth, Sleight of Hand and Deception.
The Chaos Commander subclass gains the following skills upon leveling up:
  • [Charismatic Aura]: Project an aura of inspiration that bolsters the confidence and combat abilities of those in your immediate surroundings.
  • [Crowd Control I] -> [Arm the Masses]: An upgrade of your Crowd Control skill becomes Arm the Masses, which allows you to turn any large group of people into a rabid, demon-possessed mob fighting for your cause, as long as you have Neutral or Greater approval with them. Each individual member of the mob will gain bonuses to all their base skills.
¡°The System is giving me a choice?¡± Momo said, gobsmacked. ¡°This stupid thing never gives me choices.¡± She and Sumire were descending down a set of spiral stairs into Morganium¡¯s dungeons. The journey downwards was a long and tedious one, and Momo took the opportunity to review her new class upgrade in the meantime. ¡°Oh ho ho, lucky you. Only a rare few classes have subclasses,¡± Sumire said. ¡°I think there used to be more, but the Gods hated dealing with the added paperwork, so they scrapped them.¡± ¡°Hm. Given how things are run up there¡ªor, err, were, run up there, before Valerica arrived, I don¡¯t really blame them. It was basically just Morgana and a file shredder.¡± ¡°True. That saucy mentor of yours really buttoned the place up. Better skill descriptions, less passive aggressive couriers. I even started getting those audio couriers now, and they all have this vaguely condescending voice¡­¡± ¡°That¡¯s her. That¡¯s Valerica¡¯s voice.¡± Sumire laughed. ¡°She made herself the voice of the System?¡± ¡°She¡¯s a narcissist and good at her job. A multifaceted woman.¡± The two laughed, continuing to chat idly as they descended the staircase. Sumire ran her hand along the stoney, uneven wall, her other hand holding a torch. The faint light illuminated the claustrophobic tower. They arrived shortly at a dead end at the very bottom, where two knightly lizardmen stood on either side of a curved steel door, each wearing dark green necromancer regalia. It was the color of the queendom; all of the threads were now sewn by Lorvis, former devout of the Dawn and now Morganium¡¯s appointed highest tailor. ¡°Queen.¡± They bowed in unison. ¡°Do you seek to talk to the prisoner?¡± Momo nodded. ¡°Yep. Jarva¡¯s eighth tentacle, or whatever his name is.¡± ¡°You mean¡­ Gorim von Haus Aloysius, madam?¡± ¡°Yeah, that guy,¡± Momo said, and frowned. ¡°That title, does it like¡­ mean something? You guys look distressingly nervous just saying it out loud.¡± ¡°The Haus Aloysius is the founding house of our nation,¡± the guard on the left said nervously, all but disappearing into his armor. ¡°I¡¯m sure you know the fable. Aloysius was the Hero of the Sun. The one who broke Alois out of the Era of Blood Tyranny. The prisoner, Gorim, is one of his only direct descendants.¡± Momo froze. The Era of Blood Tyranny. She remembered hearing that somewhere. Ah, right. It was explained in that item description for the Bracelet of Blood Immortality¡ªthe bracelet (and other legendary gear) that she had handed off to Vivienne in exchange for information on Sera and the Wraith Box. The Era was supposedly a period of time where Alois was run by vampires. And it ended when Aloysius staked the main vampire girl¡ªElvira¡ªstraight through the heart. Momo hadn¡¯t heard much more than that on it, so she wasn¡¯t sure whose side to take. All she knew was that if yesteryear¡¯s events were quite like today¡¯s, there was probably a lot of moral grayness going on between the sides of good and evil. ¡°Coming from that bloodline, he is the only mortal upon Alois to carry the blood of Kyros. The only reason we were able to subdue him is, well, he does not carry the craftiness nor¡­ intellect of Kyros. We caught him off-guard¡ªmuch thanks to your highness¡¯s creative techniques, or so we hear¡ªso we were able to subdue him using a [Nether Enclosure].¡± ¡°Well done.¡± Momo smiled. ¡°Thank you, m¡¯lady,¡± the guard said, stuttering. He pressed his hand to the door, and a magic sigil flared on the steel. ¡°Come this way. We¡¯ll show you to him.¡± This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. As they stalked through the shadowy corridors, Momo studied the parchment once more. She weighed the options, unused to being offered a genuine choice by the system. Not that the selection was much different from the usual choices it presented her; she couldn¡¯t exactly pick something more desirable like ¡°Cat Petter¡± or ¡°Queen Who Everyone Loves and Respects.¡± No, it had already pre-assigned her as evil and crazy¡ªso here she was, picking between the two. On a more practical level, that upgraded version of [Crowd Control], [Arm the Masses], made a lot of sense to choose if Morganium were to be invaded. It would allow her to easily and quickly strengthen the average citizen, or undead citizen, in the city in case they were suddenly required to fight on her behalf. But¡­ Momo really didn¡¯t like the idea of putting her people in danger. Or, well, putting any old person in trouble, whether it be the chef at This is Pizza or her Sumire. The way Momo felt, any potential invader was solely her problem¡ªa problem she brought upon herself, being who she was, being what she represented¡ªand she¡¯d solve it as such. So she crossed out Chaos Commander, and frowned. If you lined up all my class names next to each other, you¡¯d think I¡¯m insane. Momo the Ripper, great Demagogue, Master Manipulator, and Nether Goblin. Also, actually a really chill girl, actually. If you get to know her. Once I get to the Nether, I swear I¡¯m forcing Valerica to give me better class options.
You have selected the Master Manipulator subclass! Enjoy weaving your web of lies!
Momo shook her head, watching as the parchment evaporated into thin air. Simultaneously, they passed through a rippling bubble of Nether, led through by the guards. ¡°We have several [Nether Enclosures] keeping Gorim in,¡± he explained. ¡°You know, it¡¯s a funny coincidence, this chamber just came with a bunch of pre-built mechanisms for entrapping people of extreme magic. It was littered with mana-sapping handcuffs, enchanted restraints¡­ Jarva was obviously storing some heavy cargo here before we took over the place.¡± Momo¡¯s eyes widened. Sera. The Necropriest had been a captive prisoner in Jarvirium before the prisoner exchange took place in Nam¡¯Dal. She had been wearing those very mana-sapping chains, caged in that infernal Dogubis. Momo wondered, briefly, what became of the hound. He was cute, aside from all that trying-to-kill-her behavior. But it¡¯s always the owner, not the dog. ¡°The prison was luckily a perfect fit for a Knight of the Sun,¡± the guard continued. ¡°With no sunlight to feed on, he¡¯s all but powerless. But we took the extra precautions, even so.¡± After passing two more enclosure layers, they were led through a series of tunnels, each equipped with flailing axes, fireball traps, horrific mirror mazes, and then finally, a simple, steel-rail door. The guard inserted a key, the key clicked, and they were led into a chamber where Gorim was sitting on the floor, head hung, feet and hands chained. ¡°Oh, have you pitiful lizard gobs come to tend to me again? I¡¯d rather choke than eat more of your sad, pitiful porridge. What you call fine dining in this putrid excuse for a capital is like eating raw, unseasoned rocks off a goat¡¯s behind¡ª¡± ¡°Shut up,¡± Sumire said, rolling her eyes. ¡°We aren¡¯t here to feed you sweet rolls.¡± The Knight of the Sun looked up, his blonde hair falling over his eyes, and his mouth dropped. ¡°It¡¯s you,¡± he said, utterly speechless. He wasn¡¯t looking at Sumire¡ªbut at Momo. She laughed nervously. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ me?¡± ¡°Captain Coco,¡± he explained, his face falling into a grave scowl. ¡°The supposed registered sea scavenger that led me astray back at sea. You filled my mind with these¡­ concoctions. Visions of grandeur. Your poison led me all the way here, and then chained me to these very floors. By Kyros, I will have your tiny, miniscule head, you dastardly pirate¡ª¡± ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s not my name,¡± Momo said, shrugging. ¡°And I¡¯m not a pirate. I¡¯m Momo.¡± He stared at her, abruptly stopping his tirade. ¡°Momo? Like the¡­ like the Queen of the Undead, Momo?¡± Momo blushed. ¡°Queen of the Undead? Is that really what they¡¯re calling me over in Jarva-land?¡± ¡°Huh. Sexy,¡± Sumire said, smirking. ¡°And accurate.¡± ¡°I mean, I¡¯d say Babysitter of the Undead, maybe¡­¡± Momo mumbled. ¡°Don¡¯t downplay yourself.¡± ¡°Enough! Stop it this instant with your lies!¡± Gorim roared, shaking in his chains. He thrust his body forward, but he could only wriggle like a worm, his torso and legs wrapped in corrosive metal. ¡°Gah. I need not waste my breath. You will all be sorry when Jarva¡¯s ships land upon your coast, when his tentacles wrap around your feeble throats¡ª¡± ¡°Mm. Yeah, about that. That¡¯s kind of why we¡¯re here,¡± Momo said, squatting down to face him. ¡°The big guy is kind of taking a while. And I don¡¯t have a while.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t act so cocky. He is close, and you should be afraid,¡± he growled. ¡°I can feel it in my very blood, his tentacles inch near.¡± ¡°Gross,¡± Momo said, cringing. ¡°I don¡¯t need to hear anything more about his tentacles, thanks. What I do need to hear about is something called the ¡­ uh ¡­ what was it? Something Islands?¡± ¡°Uninhabitable islands, your highness,¡± Sumire teased. As the name of the islands left Sumire¡¯s lips, Momo immediately activated [Silent Mindreader], staring straight through to Gorim¡¯s retinas. ¡°I know nothing of which you speak,¡± he said, but his face had begun to sweat. Be measured, Gorim. The mark cannot know what lies within the island. Hearing the man¡¯s thoughts, goosebumps ran up Momo¡¯s skin. Her breath caught in her throat. The mark. Lione¡¯s words echoed through Momo¡¯s head¡ªIn order for the husk to flourish, the soul who is marked for death must die. Her heart picked up speed like a combustion engine. That poor gerbil had to be doing jumping jacks. All the facts sizzled in her mind like eggs on a frying pan, her memories of the last few weeks assembling like jigsaw pieces. If the husk was the Wraith Box, and Momo was truly the mark, and the pantheon¡ªincluding Kyros¡ªwas all working in unison with Sera to undo Morgana¡¯s hold on the universe, then everything that had happened since she ascended the throne was far more interconnected than she had realized. This was not a conspiracy of a single insane necromancer, but a total revolution of the heavens. ¡°What lies on the island?¡± she pressed, leaning towards him with an urgency. His eyes widened, and she cast the spell again. She quoted my thoughts like a newspaper. As suspected, she is a damned mindreader. Momo groaned. Damn it. She had been too obvious, repeating his exact words like that. ¡°I will give you nothing,¡± he spat, and reclined backwards into the shadows. She sighed, standing up. It wasn¡¯t worth berating herself. The mindreading spell had hit a cooldown either way¡ªshe wouldn¡¯t be able to cast it again for another half an hour. ¡°That¡¯s fine. Information isn¡¯t really what I came here for, anyway,¡± she said, and slowly dragged her hand upwards. ¡°Sumire, why don¡¯t we show the blood of Kyros some hospitality?¡± Sumire grinned, and pulled out her scimitar. 209 – A Message for Jarva As the shadow of Sumire¡¯s scimitar fell over his face, Gorim began to quiver. ¡°What ¡ª what are you doing?¡± he stuttered, fumbling backwards. The shadow grew longer and larger as Sumire stepped forward, grinning maniacally. Momo hadn¡¯t seen her smile like that since she was possessed by Roland. But only this time, it was not possession, but the pure, delicious pleasure of revenge written into her features. Momo shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. She wasn¡¯t exactly sure if this was what girlfriends were supposed to do¡ªas in, encouraging their partners to exact bloody revenge in darkly lit dungeons, but she was new to this whole romantic relationship thing. She was just going by what she¡¯d seen, really. On television shows. In real life. She remembered people doing similar things in high school; her classmate Brad encouraged his girlfriend Julie to light their English teacher¡¯s car on fire after she gave her an F on the term paper, and that seemed to go well enough¡ªthe car did explode, and did thousands of dollars in property damage¡ªbut her consequent juvie sentence was a little bit of a bummer. The point was¡ªMomo was still figuring out the details. It felt like driving a manual car. Only Sumire was the clutch, and Momo didn¡¯t have her feet anywhere near the brake pedal. Plus, she looks really hot like this. All pissed off. Momo frowned. Who made me this way? ¡°You don¡¯t remember me, do you?¡± Sumire said, cupping Gorim¡¯s face with the curve of her sword. ¡°I was one of the rookies assigned to you back in Holy Knight training. Formation seven, legion three, group ten¡­¡± ¡°One of my rookies?¡± he gaped. ¡°I¡­ Your face. I remember you. That pirate girl. The one with the useless sister. Roland¡¯s little pet. Of course you turned out to be a deserter.¡± ¡°Not a deserter,¡± she said, scowling. ¡°A betrayer. An active opponent.¡± She sliced the sword downward, and blood sprung from his cheek. He groaned aloud. Momo looked away, swallowing. It¡¯s for a good cause¡­ It¡¯s for a good cause¡­ ¡°Agh!¡± ¡°Shut up.¡± Another sharp slicing sound, and he screamed louder. It made Momo¡¯s stomach turn. ¡°That was for caging my sister.¡± She swung again, blood splattering across the walls. ¡°That was for putting me in that goddamn demonic mantle.¡± Another swing, and another jarring, horrific shriek. ¡°And that one was for¡ªagh¡ªI don¡¯t even need a reason!¡± The guards looked at Momo with wide, questioning pupils. They were nervously twiddling their fingers, obviously uncomfortable with being present for all-out, no-excuses torture session. They were begging the question with their eyes¡ªwas she just going to stand around and watch this? ¡°Yes I am,¡± she mumbled aloud, realizing they hadn¡¯t actually asked her the question. If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. As much as Momo disagreed with violence on principle, she knew that this was more than Sumire taking out her anger on one man. If Jarva could really feel these cuts, then she was getting access to something she had only dreamed of for years in captivity¡ªfinally getting to return the favor to the one man who stood between her, her sister, and freedom. ¡°M¨Cmy king will have your head¡ª¡± Gorim gurgled, blood dripping down his mouth. ¡°I¡¯d love to see him try,¡± Sumire said, clenching her jaw and swinging again. Momo swallowed, finally summoning the bravery to really look towards the scene. Gorim was absolutely doused in blood, looking like a genuine murder victim. Sumire was doused in half as much, her armor splattered with red. The man clearly possessed insane levels of Strength and Health in order to take those direct slashes and lose that much blood. But anything more and he¡¯d probably be a body bag. ¡°Okay, okay,¡± Momo said, stepping forward and putting her hand on Sumire¡¯s forearm, stopping the blade. Sumire whipped her head around, startled out of her daze. ¡°Momo, just let me¡ªa few more¡ª¡± ¡°We¡¯re not here to kill people, Mire,¡± Momo laughed nervously, eyes sliding to the gurgling mass of knight lying near-unconscious on the floor. ¡°I think you probably got the job done. Jarva will definitely be feeling it over there on his island resort.¡± ¡°But¡­¡± ¡°Come on,¡± she said, pulling at the woman¡¯s sleeve. ¡°You deserve some rest. Guards, can you get Sumire back upstairs? I just need to see to a few more things myself. In¡­ uh¡­ private.¡± Sumire reluctantly obeyed, giving Momo one last meaningful look before being led by the guards through the trap-laden corridors. Taking a deep breath in, Momo kneeled at the foot of the groaning man. ¡°Look, dude,¡± she said quietly. ¡°You and your tentacled overlord had that one coming. And if Jarva or¡ªGods, Kyros himself¡ªis listening right now, I want you to hear me loud and clear. I¡¯m not the meek little mouse you think I am. I¡¯m not going to roll over and let you destroy everything Morgana¡¯s worked for. I might not have been able to do that for my mom, or my grandma, or any number of underappreciated women running amok in my bloodline, but I¡¯m going to do it for her. And you won¡¯t stop me.¡± She raised herself from the floor, adrenaline pumping through her. Still, the gruesome sight of Gorim made her stomach curl. That amount of pain¡ªthe kind of pain that would render you speechless¡ªwas too much for her to just stand around and gawk at, even if she did just deliver a whole speech about how ruthless she was now. She was still, at the end of the day, Momo. Despite her many villainous class names, or her continually increasing body count, Momo she remained. She pressed the palm of her hand to his back. ¡°[Soul First Aid],¡± she murmured, and healing light blossomed out of her fingertips. ¡ª After checking on Sumire and eating their weight in post-torture pizza, Momo returned to her bedroom, where Dusk was splayed out on her comforter, gnawing at fish bones. ¡°Gross,¡± Momo groaned, taking the bone and throwing it off the bed. Dusk hissed at her. ¡°Don¡¯t give me that attitude. You live in this castle rent free.¡± Dusk stopped her grumbling, taking the fish bone in her mouth and hiding under Momo¡¯s giant raised bed frame. The royal bedroom was like nothing Momo had ever slept in¡ªit was like a five-star hotel penthouse with the stylistic choices of a bubbling swamp demon. Everything was green and black, earthy and deadly. It sported custom-made pillows embroidered with Morgana¡¯s face, Morgana¡¯s koi fish, Morgana¡¯s¡­ you get the picture. Lorvis had quite the obsession. Valerica only further validated it. Momo settled on her leaf green comforter, resting her tired legs. She turned her attention to her bracelet. The one that allowed her to communicate with ¡­ what¡¯s his face. Azgeroth? No. Azbero? Azrael. The third lich in Morgana¡¯s circle of elites. The same guy who had allegedly gifted her the most deadly skill in her arsenal, and the one she had so-far refused to use. [Soul Cannibal]. With all that was going on, she hadn¡¯t had the time to try calling him up again. But now with the message sent to Jarva in the form of burning scars across Gorim¡¯s body¡ªall she had was time. She could plan Morganium¡¯s defenses, sure, but Sumire and Radu were far better at that than her. Ultimately, she knew that when Jarva arrived on their soil, it wasn¡¯t going to be an army that made the difference. She was going to need a trump card. A secret weapon, something to rival whatever Jarva might bring. ¡°Bracelet,¡± she said, twisting the knob on the golden latch. She took a breath in. ¡°Call Azrael.¡± 210 – Communing with Azrael ¡°Ehem,¡± Azrael cleared his throat. ¡°Who the hell am I speaking to?¡± She had been put on hold for two entire hours before he finally picked up, her solitude accompanied only by the sound of that dreaded Nether elevator music. The music reminded Momo of those songs you¡¯d hear in the Sims: pop hits sung in an unintelligible language, nearly English but then¡­ not. Like an uncanny valley Katy Perry, or a chorus of alien sopranos. The song looped and looped, and she feverishly looked for ways to entertain herself. Unfortunately, nothing was as sweet and saccharine as the endless scroll of the internet. It was a drug she missed dearly. Nothing had managed to soothe her ADHD-rattled brain quite like the neverending YouTube Recommended feed, an IV drip of content straight to her brainstem. But, tragically, Viktor¡¯s Chicken Electricity was far from enabling such a platform, so she settled on the second best thing: tossing mostly-edible objects at Dusk and watching her devour them. First crackers, then worms, and finally more fish bones. Bones devouring bones¡ªit was an odd sight, no matter how many times she witnessed it. Finally, just as she neared the brink of insanity, the music stopped, and Azrael picked up. His voice was temperamental and impatient, as if he had been the one waiting all that time. ¡°Mr. Azrael,¡± she said quickly, in a flutter of breath. She didn¡¯t want him to hang up like last time. ¡°It¡¯s¡ªum¡ªhi. It¡¯s Momo.¡± ¡°Momo?¡± he said. ¡°Like¡­ Valerica¡¯s pet, Momo?¡± ¡°Yes! That one,¡± she said, jolting upright in bed. She held the bracelet right up to her mouth, nearly pressing her lips to it in excitement. ¡°Please don¡¯t hang up. I really need to talk to you.¡± ¡°Ah, I¡¯m glad you said something. I was just about to hang up. I keep getting these delirium-inducing calls from Nether entrepreneurs. It¡¯s infuriating¡ªit¡¯s like, for the last time, I do not want my rug cleaned, nor my lawn mowed. Gods, there is nothing I hate more than a person who makes a business out of mowing lawns. They are so presumptive. Momo, do I seem like someone who owns a lawn?¡± ¡°I¡­¡± Momo stalled. ¡°No?¡± ¡°Of course not. One look at me, and you¡¯d know that I¡¯d never subject nature to something so disrespectful. Mowed lawns are torture upon grass. Iron-clad subjugations of nature. Just as the precious weed is about to grow into its full form¡ªto reach towards the sun and proclaim its adulthood, to say hello world, it is I, the lowest and most forgettable plant amongst you, but beautiful still! For I am the great painter of fields, great artist of jungles and rolling hills. It is at that very moment that we cut it down, chop its head off like a degenerate dictator. Humble it into nonexistence.¡± Azrael took a deep breath in. ¡°In fact, yards are an excellent metaphor for the current situation we find ourselves in.¡± The line went silent, and Momo got the sense that he was waiting for her to ask him to elaborate. It was the same sort of pointed silence that teachers engaged in after asking the classroom a question, and receiving not a single hand in the air. ¡°...Yeah?¡± ¡°Yes, dear, a very suitable metaphor. Because¡ªpicture this. I think of mortals quite like weeds. Most of them wither before they reach their full potential, but their undoing is always their own. Death plucks them like the seasons, but death does not mow. She never mows. Because to mow down all of mortaldom¡ªto suck every soul up in a chamber and let it rot¡ªwould be quite cruel. No, it would be hideous.¡± Do all of Valerica¡¯s friends talk like this? ¡°Are you talking about Sera¡¯s Wraith Box?¡± ¡°Precisely,¡± he said, then laughed. ¡°I knew Valerica chose the right one. You¡¯re very bright, dear. So much wisdom stuffed inside such a tiny vessel. Anyway, proceeding on. While I haven¡¯t the faintest idea how you¡¯ve contacted me, I¡¯m glad you did. I¡¯ve been trying to reach you for quite a while. But all of my attempts have been in vain.¡± ¡°Wait, you have?¡± Momo said. ¡°I didn¡¯t notice any¡­ attempts.¡± Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. He groaned, displeased. ¡°Every body I have sent your way has met an unusual demise before reaching you. Sometimes by lightning, or by drowning, or by food poisoning. I sent one of my bodies just two weeks before, floating on a small boat towards your pirate ship, but the sea literally rose up around it and swallowed it. It was no ordinary sea-thrashing, either¡ªit was Nerida herself, her own fist taking my body in her hands and clenching it.¡± Nerida. That was Sumire¡¯s deity. The janitor of the seas. To think she was in on Sera¡¯s ploy too¡­ it made Momo¡¯s heart sting. But the pain was relieved, in a small way, at the hilarious imagery of Azrael getting utterly destroyed ten times over by every single deity in the pantheon. ¡°Valerica has been trying to reach you, naturally, but she can no longer leave the Nether. Morgana has locked down the place. No one is allowed out.¡± A flicker of hope sprouted in Momo¡¯s chest. ¡°Does that mean they¡¯ve located Sera?¡± Azrael laughed. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t I have led with that?¡± Momo frowned. ¡°Right¡­¡± she mumbled, but truthfully¡ªshe did not think he would have led with that. Valerica never leads with the vital topic sentence. She leads with the fourth tangential paragraph in the middle of the long, droning, irrelevant essay. And if he was anything like Valerica, he would have given the whole monologue about lawns regardless. ¡°But how is it that Morgana hasn¡¯t been able to locate her? Can¡¯t she travel anywhere in the Nether? Especially now that Valerica has fixed up the wiring and everything.¡± ¡°Yes, she can travel anywhere, quite so,¡± Azrael hummed. ¡°But think of it like this¡ªeven if you have an unlimited train pass, you still must know which station to stop at. Sera is in hiding. Morgana has employed nearly every god in the pantheon to look for her, but they¡¯ve come up empty. It¡¯s not surprising. After all, the Nether is a wide, wide place. Easy for things to get lost.¡± Momo clenched her fists. ¡°But the other gods aren¡¯t¡ª¡± As the words were about to leave her mouth, she felt a jolting bolt in the middle of her stomach. A punch with the precision of a needle. The promise I made to Kami. That spell he cast. The [Thief¡¯s Promise]. She had nearly forgotten the implications. She couldn¡¯t tell anyone about Mordecai, or about any of the other gods, it seemed. ¡°What was that? This connection is just terrible. I should really try and go analog¡­¡± ¡°It¡¯s nothing,¡± she swallowed. ¡°But what should I do? I have the box, and so far it¡¯s been dormant, but as far as I can tell there¡¯s no way to destroy it. Not without unleashing hell.¡± ¡°Isn¡¯t the answer obvious?¡± Momo blinked. The man¡¯s voice had gone from floaty to terse. Impatient. ¡°The skill I created for you,¡± he continued. ¡°Have you not tried it yet?¡± She stilled, goosebumps running up her arms. ¡°....[Soul Cannibal]?¡± ¡°Precisely,¡± he whispered. ¡°See, I suspected Sera¡¯s whole endeavor far before she actually went ahead and did it. One of my many ears overheard her discussing the plans for the box with her little mortal pets. I skipped right past shock, angst, bargaining¡ªand went to work on prevention. The result was this skill, [Soul Cannibal]. It is the only way. How should I put this politically¡­You must mow a small portion of the lawn in order to save the rest.¡± Momo stared at the bracelet, her heart beating. ¡°B¨Cbut if I absorb these souls. Wouldn¡¯t that mean I¡¯d be killing them? Trapping them in my body just like they¡¯re trapped in the Wraith Box right now? How would that be any better?¡± Azrael scoffed. ¡°For those souls? It wouldn¡¯t be any better a fate, no. But you¡¯d be saving many more than you¡¯d be sacrificing. And it¡¯d be a wondrous thing for you, too. Imagine the amount of experience you¡¯d get from absorbing that many souls in one feasting. You¡¯d grow in power like no mortal ever has. Ascend almost immediately to the status of a Lesser Goddess, or perhaps more.¡± ¡°What?¡± Her heartbeat nearly came to a screeching halt. It can¡¯t be that easy. It was exactly what she needed¡ªa cheat code to bypass Excalibur and knock her way right into the heavens. Not to mention it¡¯d solve two problems with one hefty stone. The Wraith Box would be eliminated, and she¡¯d be powerful enough to stand toe to toe with Sera and end the revolution where it stood. But¡­ It wasn¡¯t a cheat code. It was a choice. A choice to continually torture thousands of souls. Her own words echoed in her head¡ªwhat¡¯s a little torture for a good cause? ¡°No,¡± she said, frantically shaking her head. ¡°I can¡¯t do that. I can¡¯t sacrifice thousands of people and have them living inside of me like a bunch of screaming bees. I need to find another way of dealing with this. Another way to ascend to Lesser Goddess and take down Sera myself.¡± ¡°There is no other way, darling. If there was, I would have thought of it.¡± ¡°There has to be.¡± She clenched her hands into fists, her body shaking. ¡°What if I knocked down King Jarva? And every single Knight of the Sun? That¡¯d have to take me at the very least to Excalibur. And then if I take down the remaining members of the Holy Resistance, too¡­¡± Azrael chuckled. ¡°Oh, I really do get why Valerica likes you. Now, just one moment. I might suggest covering your eyes and ears.¡± The line went quiet for a moment. Then, without warning, Momo¡¯s bedroom window burst open like a demolition site. Shards of glass flew everywhere. Dusk hissed, arching her tail and burrowing under the bed. Momo jumped up, padding in her slippers over to the window and lurching her head out of it. Just below, gripping tensely to the window sill, was a man. A man with a face Momo recognized¡ªthe first face she ever saw in Alois, back down in that grimy, cavernous dungeon. ¡°Well, well, well,¡± the man grinned, his rotted teeth shining. ¡°Hello again.¡± 211 – Azrael’s Gambit Azrael climbed through her window and collapsed onto the floor. He looked at his hands and feet as if they had been poorly sewn on, shaking them around like sock puppets. For a Lesser God, he had the dexterity of a toddler. Momo assumed this was because he was piloting this body remotely¡ªkind of like a military man flying a human drone. ¡°Wonderful interior,¡± he commented, taking notice of all of the room¡¯s Morgana-themed embellishments. He picked up his legs as if they were heavy bags of sand and trudged towards the couch, falling in a heap upon the pillows. ¡°T¨Cthanks,¡± Momo mumbled. Her eyes traveled from him to the gaping crater that once was her window. The sky had started to crackle with lightning. It had been a starry, cloudless night just a moment before, but now rain poured, thunder clapped, and wind gusted, blowing through her room like a mighty draft. ¡°I doubt I have much time, so I will make this snappy,¡± Azrael said, yawning. ¡°But Gods¡ªit is hard to think straight. This body is simply exhausted. I did wake it from its slumber in the city morgue, parade it through town, scare a variety of civilians, then scale the length of this tower with it, but are human bodies really so feeble? I can hardly remember.¡± Momo didn¡¯t respond to that. She was too busy constructing a thin barrier of Nether over the gaping window-hole so the air would stop blowing over her valuables. Azrael didn¡¯t seem to notice her distress. He reached for the coffee table in front of him, plucking her sketchbook off of it. He flipped to the first page. ¡°Ah, yes, I remember this curious little¡­ drawing book,¡± he said, eyes glowing. ¡°This is the book you brought with you from the Other-World. Your most treasured possession. Ah, seeing it really brings me back. You know, from the very moment that I first saw you, I had high hopes. We both did, Valerica and I. She thought you¡¯d make a great delivery girl. A fine undercover agent. But I saw a different potential in you. We watched different scenes in your life, you see. Monitored you from different angles.¡± That got Momo¡¯s attention. She finished her job of sealing off the window, and craned her head. ¡°You were spying on me too?¡± she sighed. She wasn¡¯t even surprised. All those jokes people on Earth made about having FBI agents in their computers were only a little bit off-base. What you really had to be worried about were death-wizards from other universes peering into your business. ¡°But of course,¡± he said, grinning. ¡°I was actually the one to bring you to her attention. I saw this most peculiar moment in your life. It was the day that you left home for college. There was this¡­ quality in you. The lackluster observer would label it meekness, hesitance. But what I saw was something else entirely¡ªa most powerful longing. A yearning clawing at your soul. The way you simply stared at your family and said nothing. The way they did the same with you.¡± Momo¡¯s jaw clenched. She could remember the exact moment he was talking about. It was the last time she saw her family. They had driven Momo all the way from San Francisco to Albany, each of them taking turns at the wheel and listening to Dad¡¯s favorite music tapes¡ªJapanese pop albums from the 70s. Classics sung by Momo. Not her, Momo, but the niche Jpop artist she was named after. ¡°She¡¯s so talented,¡± her dad would say every time, as if he hadn¡¯t played the same discs for her entire childhood. ¡°Amazing singer. Nothing like this on the radio these days.¡± Her mom would always look out the window when those songs played, feigning jealousy. Momo knew it was an act. She always caught her mouthing the lyrics. For her family, everything was always a coordinated performance. Everyone had a specific part to play, even during an exhausting 42-hour drive from coast to coast. It wasn¡¯t just her parents, but her brother, too. He¡¯d always make a big show of turning off Dad¡¯s music once he was up to drive. He¡¯d blast Eminem and 2Pac until Mom screamed at him to turn it off. ¡°American music,¡± she¡¯d always say, as if that said everything. Momo¡¯s role to play in the family-roadtrip circus was simple. When it was her turn to drive, her father would say, ¡°ah, now we must wear our seatbelts,¡± and laugh hard at his own joke. Mom would put on her seatbelt¡ªmake a huge display out of it, actually¡ªgripping the car door like it might fall off. Dae-hyun would beg her to keep the Eminem playing, but she always turned the music off. Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. She had never been good at focusing on two things at once. ¡°Momo?¡± Azrael said, snapping her out of her thoughts. ¡°Not to alarm you, but it appears that my time here might be shorter than planned.¡± A deafening crack of thunder roared from outside. The entire tower shook. ¡°What was that?¡± Momo said, alarmed. She steadied herself on the bed frame. Dusk peeked her tiny head from beneath the bed, blinking up at Momo in confusion. ¡°Sera, I suppose,¡± he said. ¡°She has sensed my presence, like all of those other times when she was quick to strike me down. Thinking of it now, she must be employing Guinevere somehow. Hm, and Nerida, too. There¡¯s no reason that Sera by herself should be able to control the weather. A pact of cooperation between those three¡ªthat is indeed troublesome. But let¡¯s not dwell on that for now. Let¡¯s address your request.¡± His voice had gone hoarse, and he pounded on his chest like a doctor might apply electric shock paddles to a man in cardiac arrest. ¡°If you really want to reject my gift of the [Soul Cannibal], I will not stop you, but I can not sit around and watch as Morgana¡¯s most precious creations are razed like a colony of insects. So I will help you in this¡­ alternative plan of yours. I have been watching your skills closely, and I suspect that if you are able to reach the rank of the Lesser Goddess, or even, potentially, only that of the Excalibur, you might be able to use your [Soul First Aid] ability to repair the chains that have been forcibly intertwined inside of Sera¡¯s box.¡± ¡°Really?¡± Momo said, eyes widening. Ever since Lione suggested something similar, that had been Momo¡¯s naive hope¡ªthat she could reverse engineer the thing and break the souls free¡ªbut she had no idea if it would really work. ¡°Yes, really. Sera is a fine engineer, but I believe your love for humanity¡­ Your respect for souls as people, not ammunition, is a rivalrous trait by its own merit.¡± ¡°I¡­ okay,¡± Momo said, hanging onto his every word. ¡°Then that¡¯s what I¡¯ll do. Just tell me how to get there, and I¡¯ll do it.¡± The thunder roared loudly again, and the building swayed. Momo could hear a frantic rustling in the hallways. Other government officials were rushing down the stairs, trying to get to lower ground. ¡°Wonderful. Then I ask of you but one thing¡ªwhen you kill me, please be quick about it.¡± Momo paused. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as she processed the words that had just come out of his mouth. ¡°What?¡± she said, voice nearly a whisper. She took several steps back from Azrael as he flung his arms out and closed his eyes, a wide smile plastered on his face. The silky black hair atop his head began to rush backwards as if wind had captured it; he levitated off the couch, sighing pleasantly. ¡°I know exactly how much experience this body is worth. It is my last remaining vessel on this continent. It was the body I inhabited when I ascended to godhood. If you kill me, and then two Knights of the Sun, you will breach Excalibur. Of this I am sure.¡± As Momo stared at him in disbelief, angry, white boulders of hail pierced through the thin barrier of Nether she had concocted to cover her window. Loud, splintering cracks in the tower¡¯s infrastructure echoed from below. The bedroom began to slope downwards, Momo¡¯s belongings¡ªcabinets, maps, daggers, bracelets¡ªall crashing to the ground and sliding along the floorboards. ¡°Meeeow,¡± Dusk whined as she flew from beneath the bed to the west wall of the room. ¡°Dusk! Get in my backpack,¡± Momo urged, sliding across the floor so the cat could jump into her open bag. The feline bounded in, and Momo closed it quickly. She could hear terrified screams coming from the building¡¯s inhabitants as the tower yawned and swung. Supernatural lightning had struck it, and struck it hard. Momo could smell the smoke of burning wood wafting up through the vents. Any subsequent attack would likely cause the building to snap in half. ¡°What are you waiting for? Kill me,¡± Azreal ordered, floating towards her. His voice had gained a certain urgency, his eyes bugging out of their sockets. ¡°Do it, Momo! Or else the carnage won¡¯t end with this tower. Sera won¡¯t stop until she¡¯s struck me down. And I¡¯m sure we can both agree that she does not need the extra experience.¡± ¡°B¨Cbut,¡± Momo stuttered, breathing heavily. ¡°I don¡¯t want to kill you! I don¡¯t want to kill anyone. That¡¯s the whole point of this. I want to save lives¡ª¡± ¡°Nonsense, nonsense. Remember the lawn, Momo,¡± he emphasized, grabbing her by the arms and lifting her up. She yelped. ¡°Sometimes you must sacrifice a dying weed to save the flourishing garden. After all, you are not really killing me. You are destroying nothing but a saggy, half-dead bag of bones. Do not let your fears take you hostage any longer. You want to make me and Valerica proud, yes? Then take your hand.¡± He grabbed her wrist, and placed it on his chest. ¡°And do your very worst,¡± he said, grinning maniacally. Blinding light lit up the sky, followed by an apocalyptic boom of thunder that sounded like god herself was clapping. Momo looked out the window, and she swore she saw a face collected in the clouds¡ªone with jagged cheekbones and a fierce scowl. It was surging forward. Momo squeezed her eyes shut, and Nether flooded through her. ¡°[Nether Fireball]!¡± 212 – The Leaning Tower of Morganium Azrael¡¯s body turned to ash in front of her. Blowing past him, the fireball smashed a hole the size of a train car through the tower. The gaping, fiery cavity was the straw in the camel¡¯s back¡ªthe tower began to bend in slow motion, caving forward, until Momo¡¯s top-floor room was at a right angle. She screamed, falling straight through the hole she created. Her bed, her furniture, her sketchbook¡ªthey all descended upon her, rocketing down to the ground like explosive shrapnel. Azrael¡¯s disintegrated corpse took flight in the air around her, a million specks of black dust lighting up the sky. Simultaneously, an audio courier began idly chatting in her ear.
Congratulations! Assassinating a fellow necromancer, wow, now that¡¯s new! He wasn¡¯t only a necromancer though, but technically a Lesser God. Don¡¯t worry, his soul is still sitting pretty somewhere in the Nether, but even defeating his human form is a formidable task. We asked Morgana what she thought of this action of yours, so that we could reward and/or punish you appropriately, but she just barked at us to get out of her room and slammed the door. Let¡¯s just say she¡¯s a bit preoccupied these days. Heh heh. So, consequently, we¡ªthe Nether Association of System Administrators¡ªtogether agreed on an independent decision. Administrator Valerica tried to influence this decision considerably, like she has done with all of our decisions since ascending to lesser godhood, but we are an independent body and, for the last time: we cannot be bought. Nor suggested, nor goaded, nor threatened. So, in the spirit of fairness, we will list the cases of judicial precedent we considered to come to this call¡­
¡°I don¡¯t have the time for this!¡± Momo screeched, air buffeting her clothes as she plummeted towards the ground. She pounded at her ear until the System stopped reading out the message, declaring it would Send Decision By Mail Due To User Error. ¡°Thank god,¡± she cried. ¡°[Polymorph ¡ª Nether Imp]!¡± Her body transformed mid-air. Wings sprouted from her shoulders, her legs receded into her chest. Soon enough, she was flapping around wildly, catching her breath and watching as the tower slowly crumbled, floor by floor. Escaped government officials were pooling frantically at the base of the tower, but they were only a small group compared to the vast number of employees that were still stuck higher up. The building¡¯s many staircases had crumbled, and the elevators had lost their power source, leaving hundreds of officials trapped and screaming. ¡°Shit,¡± Momo said, calming her rapid breathing. ¡°I need to help them.¡± Evaluating the state of the quickly crumbling tower, Momo¡¯s mind ventured back to Nam¡¯Dal¡ªto when Sera had constructed a tower of pure Nether. Back then, Momo could barely conceptualize the level of power it took to do such a thing. But now¡­ She looked down at her red, Nether-stained palms, and formed them into fists. She began to cast [Eye of the Nether Demon], calling upon the surrounding Nether to flock to her. As the black energy congealed around her, she heard a fresh round of screams. A group of dwarven janitors had slid off the side of the crooked tower. The staircase they had been descending had collapsed and fallen to the wayside, now looming like a gangplank over a hundred foot drop. Their hands gripped the rock for dear life, but the crumbling staircase looked at any moment like it might break off the central mass completely. ¡°Hold on!¡± Momo yelled. With enough of the Nether now floating around her palms, she thrust it forward, slinging it like webs around the dangling platform. She then flew upwards rapidly, her tiny wings straining as she tried to heave the platform upwards. Agh. She cried out. It was too heavy. She had very low Strength even at her normal size, and even less in her imp form. She couldn¡¯t reattach the platform to the main building without growing ten times in size. ¡°By the gods, my mum was right when she said I should¡¯ve never left Deepgrove,¡± one of the dwarves cried out, his gloved fingers shaking as they held onto the crumbling stone. ¡°Be a good man of the Ironloaf clan, she said. Learn your craft and hone it here, amongst your people, where¡¯ll you be safe, and loved, and won¡¯t have to go climbing no fancy towers or tending to no nasty chickens. But I just had to go and be ambitious, god damn it¡ª¡± This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. With a deafening creak, the staircase splintered off the side of the building. The dwarves began hurtling downwards, screaming. ¡°No!¡± Momo yelled, diving for them. She transformed from her Imp form to the Merlin, rapidly increasing her aerodynamicism. She dove ahead of them, turned around rapidly in the air, and summoned all the Nether she could manage, flooding the pavement below with it. Morganium¡¯s citizens scrambled as the black liquid flowed from her like a river, creating a buoyant, ball pit-like padding on the ground. She could feel her Mana being utterly sapped from her, her bones aching. She was forced to break her polymorph, falling to her knees in an awkward, bloody fumble. Catching her breath on the pavement, she watched with horror as the dwarves descended upon the pool of Nether. ¡°Please,¡± she begged. They hit the ground like meteors. Only they didn¡¯t explode on impact¡ªthey bounced. Bounced like beach balls. Momo lit up as she watched them bound off the Nether surface and smack into each other. It was like watching a group of floating toddlers, their limbs thrashing around madly as they tried to right themselves. After a lot of grunting and wailing, they eventually rolled off of the mat, disoriented but alive. ¡°By Kyros,¡± the dwarf from before exclaimed, wobbling unsteadily across the pavement. He was hugging his body, checking to see if all his limbs were still there. ¡°I¡¯m never testing fate again. I¡¯m taking these unloyal legs and walking straight home to Deepgrove, mum be merciful¡ª¡± ¡°Momo!¡± Momo turned. She was immediately met with the crushing weight of Sumire¡¯s body. The woman wrapped herself around her tightly, nearly toppling her back onto the pavement. She wheezed, her heart swelling and her lungs constricting. The wind was already knocked out of her from before¡ªthis was just the potentially-lethal cherry on top. ¡°Sumire¡ªyou¡¯re¡ªchoking me.¡± The pirate eventually relented. Sumire was panting, her cheeks flushed. She had obviously been running for a long distance. Standing behind her was an equally exasperated group of others: Teddy, Viktor, Grimli, Radu, and Nyk. Momo didn¡¯t take the time to stop and greet them. ¡°We need to save the people in the tower,¡± she grunted, her ribs aching as she straightened herself. ¡°I¡ªI think I can do it, but I¡¯ll need help.¡± ¡°We are at your full disposal, your highness,¡± Grimli said, saluting her. The rest of the ragtag group agreed, each displaying a differing degree of dedication. ¡°Teddy, I¡¯m going to need you to get the people at the bottom of the tower out of the way. Lead them somewhere safe. I don¡¯t care if you have to polymorph into a dragon and intimidate the piss out of them to get the job done. Just put as much distance between them and the fire as possible,¡± she explained. He nodded, and immediately started drunkenly jogging towards the mass of frenetic citizens. She then turned to Sumire. ¡°Mire¡ªthat skill you used on me back in the day, during that one fight where you were trying to kill me. The giant tidal wave? I need you to use that on the tower. Grab Nura if you can, and anyone else with other water-based abilities. We need to control the fire inside as much as possible, especially if Sera tries to strike it again.¡± ¡°Got it, Mo.¡± As Sumire dashed off, the sky crackled with lightning once more. The hail was still falling aggressively, shooting like a railgun onto the pavement. It left stone-sized dents in the street. Momo thought the storm would end after she took care of Azrael, but it seemed to be the opposite. It was only raging louder. Evidently, Sera was pissed. It wouldn¡¯t be long before she started dropping atomic thunder bombs on them. Momo needed to find a way to get Morganium¡¯s citizens underground. ¡°Viktor, the temples you''ve had erected for Baryte and your insane chicken religion¡ªthey all have underground chambers, right? Kind of like bunkers underneath Morganium?¡± ¡°Indeed, your majesty. It¡¯s also where we keep the eggs. They¡¯re Baryte¡¯s royal nurseries.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t need the details, Viktor. I just need you use to use whatever influence you and the undead bird have to try to get everyone underground. Got it?¡± ¡°Actually,¡± he said, throwing up a finger. ¡°Not to disagree with you in times of crisis, your highness, but I think this megastorm would actually be the perfect opportunity for me to try and harness some of that nether-lightning to further power the Chickenductor¡ª¡± ¡°Viktor. Get. Them. Underground. Now,¡± Momo growled, glaring at him with the intensity of a rabid, demonic chihuahua. ¡°Or I will put you in the Chickenductor.¡± ¡°Got it!¡± he squeaked, turning bright red and backing away quickly. ¡°Underground they go!¡± Next to her, Nyk chuckled. ¡°I like this side of you, shortstack.¡± Radu had run off to join Viktor, rightfully skeptical of the man¡¯s ability to keep on-task, leaving only her and Nyk to face the music. The wind howled once more, causing the tower to careen from side to side. No matter which direction it toppled, it¡¯d crush dozens of apartment buildings, not to mention the people still trapped inside of the crumbling stone needle¡ªaccountants and janitors, financial staff, childcare workers, chicken keepers and fowl administrators. Turning towards Nyk, the adrenaline left Momo¡¯s body. The entire campaign trail, she had been trying to convince this nation¡ªthese people¡ªthat she was worthy of being queen. That she was the singular person that could protect them from harm. That was the job description. Now, here it was, looking her straight and boldly in the face: the opportunity to prove it. And going by her poll numbers, what might be her last opportunity to prove it. ¡°Nyk,¡± she said, lip trembling. ¡°This has to work.¡± 213 – How Do You Kill A Goddess? ¡°Nyk,¡± she said, lip trembling. ¡°This has to work.¡± ¡ª ¡°Here¡¯s what we¡¯re going to do,¡± Momo said, throwing her nerves to the wayside and grabbing Nyk¡¯s slender hand. She pointed it towards the groaning tower. ¡°I don¡¯t have enough Mana to hold the tower together by myself, but I think together¡ª¡± ¡°Don¡¯t touch me.¡± ¡°Sorry!¡± Momo said, blushing as she yanked her hand away. Another round of screaming echoed from the crumbling building. ¡°But¡ªlook¡ªall I¡¯m trying to say is, if we both throw as much Nether as we can at it, kind of like a sticky spider web, or a bunch of rubber bands, then we can stop it from toppling over.¡± Nyk looked intensely skeptical. ¡°You really think that will work?¡± ¡°Not really,¡± Momo admitted. ¡°But it¡¯s the best idea I¡¯ve got right now.¡± The dokkaebi considered it, biting her lip. ¡°Fine,¡± she sighed. ¡°You¡¯re lucky Valerica scares the hell out of me.¡± She stuck out her hand, curling her fingers. Dark matter began to bubble around her outdrawn digits. Momo had never seen another person¡ªbesides Sera¡ªmanipulate Nether in that way, but it was as she suspected: all Nether dokkaebis possessed the latent ability. Momo could feel the temperature in their immediate vicinity rocket upwards as more and more Nether congealed around them, the substance giving off a sticky humidity. ¡°Ready,¡± Nyk said, her eyes falling closed. ¡°On your command, or whatever.¡± Momo nodded, and stuck out her hand in the same way, fingers splayed and waiting. She could feel her body shuddering as she pulled the Nether towards her¡ªher Mana supply already limited from before. She had used quite a lot of it trying to cement the tower back together by herself, but luckily, her Mana regen had improved from level to level, and she could feel that she was already back to nearly fifty percent. With Nyk¡¯s help, that¡¯d hopefully be enough. It had to be. ¡°Alright,¡± Momo said, steeling herself. ¡°Go!¡± On her signal, the Nether beamed out of both of their hands, congealing mid-air as it soared towards the building. The black blob landed with a fwip, wrapping around the tower like a wet towel, then rapidly expanding. The black organism dug into the stone crevices, latching itself into the building. Power rapidly drained from the pair of them, and both Momo and Nyk winced. Momo felt her hand begin to falter; it was starting to tremble terribly. Stupid hand, Momo thought, forcing it to relax. I can do this. Despite her growing exhaustion, the plan seemed to be going along just fine. The Nether tightened around the tower, forcing its stone innards that were previously spilling out to bind inwards. The terrified faces of government workers disappeared behind the black, slithering wall, encased inside the tower, safe from harm. ¡°I¡ªI think it¡¯s working,¡± Momo stuttered, her body shuddering. Unable to control her legs, she fell to her knees, suddenly nauseous. Bile clawed at her throat. It took all of her willpower to keep her hand in the air, the Nether still spilling from it. There¡¯s still not enough to cover the whole tower. She couldn¡¯t lose her grip now. Then, a voice came to her as if screamed through a wind tunnel¡ª
Warning! You are out of Mana!
¡°Get up,¡± Nyk ordered, gritting her teeth. What might have sounded menacing was weakened by her exhaustion. ¡°I can¡¯t manage this without you.¡± Momo could feel her heartbeat pound in her ears. Everything was blurry¡ªthe stone tiles of the pavement went from crisp and cold to a messy bundle of splotches. Everything in her body was begging her to let go. Still, she kept her trembling hand afloat. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
Warning! If you continue to use Mana beyond your limit, you will enter Mana Overdrive!
Mana Overdrive? She heeded the warning at the last second, dropping her hand. Her shoulders fell with it, then her neck, and her face, plummeting onto the pavement. She could barely feel the pain as her skull hit the ground. Everything was so far and distant¡ªjust echoes in a narrow chamber. Beside her, Nyk groaned, the weight of all of the Nether falling on her shoulders. ¡°Fuck,¡± Nyk said. Nyk fell to her knees next. The two of them looked like a pair of beaten up ragdolls. As the seconds ticked on, Momo expected to hear the sounds of defeat¡ªof the grand tower clamoring to the ground, shattering into a million pieces like a glass mirror, but, curiously, she heard nothing of the sort. She heard an abundance of exactly that¡ªnothing¡ªsilence, as if time had stilled. Hissing with pain, she tilted her face up, and her eyes finally focused. And then, they promptly widened. ¡°Nyk,¡± she said, coughing. ¡°The tower. We did it. It¡¯s¡­ It¡¯s stable.¡± As she had hoped for, the Nether blanket had expanded to cover the entire ivory building. Just as Sera had done when building her tower of black back in Nam¡¯Dal, Morganium¡¯s Needle now stood, unmoving, a cylinder of silent darkness. The streets had been cleared by Teddy and the Radu, the citizens now underground in their chicken-coop bunkers, leaving only the crackling of thunder in the sky. ¡°By Morgana, I regret ever meeting you,¡± Nyk groaned, laying her forehead on the cold pavement. ¡°I just expended enough Mana to kill a god.¡± ¡°If only,¡± Momo murmured, gazing towards the sky. It was still a frenzy of thunder and lightning. Hail still pulverized the ground. The climate reminded Momo of the sky that loomed over the arena during the Oblivion Crisis¡ªonly now, in place of clouds and cloud beasts, was pure maniacal fury disguised as bad weather, lightning charged with murderous intent. She dragged herself upwards, unsteady. ¡°We still need to rescue the people inside the tower. Even though they¡¯re no longer in threat of falling a hundred feet to their deaths, there¡¯s probably a bunch of debris blocking their way out. We need to clear it.¡± ¡°Momo. Don¡¯t be an idiot. Let your little girlfriend handle it,¡± Nyk grunted, rubbing her eyes. ¡°If you try to use anymore of your Mana, your horns are going to quite literally fall off.¡± Eyeing the situation by the tower¡¯s entrance, Momo knew the dokkaebi had a point. Sumire and her band of would-be firefighters were working with effortless orderliness, trampling over stone and flame, spraying bursts of water into the interior of the tower. The pirate had assembled a group of at least fifteen, and was ordering them around like a proper dictator. Under her keen eye, they were plenty capable of taking care of the fires and emptying the place of survivors. ¡°Okay,¡± Momo mumbled, quickly defeated. ¡°You¡¯re right.¡± As soon as she was able to walk again, Momo began to schlep herself towards the tower¡¯s entranceway. Her bones felt like brittle silverware that had been thrown in the dishwasher for too many cycles, but she pressed on. Above her, lightning continued to strike down, turning homes into fireplaces. She had expected the storm to stop, but it only worsened. Residence upon residence came ablaze. Sumire sent a contingent of her water-wielders to deal with the fires, but they couldn¡¯t clear the fires as fast as Nerida could throw her electric javelins. Momo knew that soon enough, Morganium¡¯s inner ring would be little more than a smokey pile of barbecued neighborhoods. Her brain swimming with possible solutions¡ªfire lightning back at the sky and see what happens, give up, cry, call Azrael and tell him to get his ass back here, ask Dusk to take over queenhood for a bit while she goes on vacation¡ªMomo finally made it to the steps of the tower. ¡°Momo,¡± Sumire said, greeting her with another bone crushing embrace. ¡°You look like you were just buried alive. Are you okay?¡± ¡°I feel like I was just buried alive. This quite possibly might be our last conversation,¡± Momo groaned, leaning into the hug. She was too tired to complain about how tight Sumire was holding her. ¡°Are people still trapped inside?¡± ¡°We¡¯ve gotten most of them out and below ground. There are a few lunatics who think this is all some message from the holy chicken¡ªthey keep clucking and trying to throw themselves down the stairs, yelling bucauwk over and over. I say we take a Darwinism approach to those few.¡± ¡°Publicly, as queen, I disagree. Privately, yes, definitely,¡± Momo muttered. ¡°But good. I¡­¡± Pain racketed through her chest. ¡°Need to sit down.¡± She promptly lowered herself to the ground and began rocking back and forth. ¡°Yep. Good. Perfect. Just leave me like this for a while, and I¡¯ll be just fine.¡± Behind her, a house exploded. ¡°Ach!¡± Sumire yelled, throwing up a [Holy Enclosure] around Momo and the firefighters. Burnt wood showered over them. The lightning had turned up a notch¡ªgoing from normal, everyday electricity to something feral and warped. It was as if an electric werewolf claw had come down and tore the building to shreds, flinging wooden gore in every which direction. Still rocking, Momo looked up at the sky. Her brain and her body was too exhausted to be afraid. ¡°Quick question. Anyone¡ªreally, anyone at all¡ªwelcome to answer,¡± Momo mumbled, watching as the hail began to shower down in refrigerator sized ice cubes, creating meteor-sized craters in the streets. ¡°If you were me, how would you go about stopping a goddess?¡± 214 – Thats a F*cking Octopus ¡°If you were me, how would you go about stopping a goddess?¡± ¡ª The firefighters¡ªnor the universe¡ªoffered Momo any good answers. Instead, like always, it presented her with new problems. ¡°Momo, are you¡­ seeing that too?¡± Momo followed Sumire¡¯s finger as it pointed towards the sky. Momo expected to see a new iteration of climate-based chaos. A flurry of rabid snowflakes. A possessed cloud raining meatballs. But no. Nothing so simple. Instead, she went from rocking back and forth to suddenly sitting upright, back erect and mouth gaping. She rubbed her eyes several times, but the image remained the same. Above them was the Nether dome¡ªthe [Great Wall of Nether] that was designed to keep out Holy energy, (but notably, not bad weather)¡ªwhich was gifted to them by Morgana through the Ruler System. But, much more notably, above the dome¡­ was a man. A man with an octopus for a head. An undulating mass of tentacles. He held a broad, golden greatsword, and stood atop the dome as if it was a circular stage. His beady eyes looked down at them, unblinking. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Momo said. ¡°I must be entering some sort of psychosis.¡± ¡°You¡¯re not,¡± Sumire said. ¡°That¡¯s a fucking octopus.¡± ¡°...*The* octopus?¡± ¡°No. Not Jarva,¡± Sumire said, swallowing. ¡°It¡¯s Exilo. The first prick to ever be initiated into the Circle of the Sun. Jarva¡¯s number one watchdog. But if he¡¯s here¡­ that means our little torture-for-a-good-cause plan worked. Jarva must be close behind.¡± ¡°You know, looking back, provoking Jarva and his Excalibur defense squad right to my doorstep might not have been my wisest idea,¡± Momo mumbled. ¡°Eh. We¡¯re in hell already.¡± Another bus-sized piece of hail bounded off Sumire¡¯s [Holy Enclosure]. ¡°Might as well have all the honored guests in attendance.¡± Momo laughed nervously. ¡°But he can¡¯t get inside, can he?¡± she asked, watching as the octopus just stared at them blankly from above. ¡°The [Great Wall of Nether] looks like it¡¯s holding strong. Not even that enormous greatsword of his is making a dent.¡± ¡°For now,¡± Sumire said, sighing. ¡°What I don¡¯t understand is why all this shit is happening in concert. Sera, Nerida, Kyros¡­¡± Her eyes looked off into the distance for a moment, then her jaw clenched. The pieces had seemed to finally slot together for her, as they had for Azrael. ¡°Momo, they¡¯re working together, aren¡¯t they? A united front against Morgana?¡± Momo didn¡¯t dare move a muscle. She didn¡¯t want to invoke the wrath of the [Thief¡¯s Promise]. ¡°I see,¡± Sumire said, reading her face regardless. ¡°That isn¡¯t great.¡± ¡°Theoretically, if that were true¡ªyeah.¡± ¡°Lady Sumire. Everyone from the tower is accounted for. Even the chicken-heretics.¡± Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. From behind Momo and Sumire, a line of displeased citizens in rooster hats were handcuffed at the wrists. They were all tied together like a line of kindergarteners. At the front of the line, one of Sumire¡¯s recruits stood, awaiting direction. ¡°Good work. Now comes the matter of escorting them¡­¡± ¡°Can you move the enclosure?¡± Momo asked. ¡°Use it like an umbrella to cover all of us until we make it to the bunkers?¡± ¡°Unfortunately not. The thing is like a tent. I can¡¯t really move it around once I¡¯ve placed it,¡± Sumire said, frowning. Momo nodded, not surprised. She remembered the [Holy Enclosure] that Vivienne had once used to entrap her back in Nam¡¯Dal¡ªit had worked similarly. ¡°But¡­ how are you feeling, Mana-wise?¡± Momo realized at that moment that she already felt a whole lot better. Her mana regen really had improved drastically when she evolved into the Nether Dokkaebi. Curious, she thought mana check.
MP: 250 / 400
¡°Oh, wow,¡± she said, her eyes bugging. ¡°I have that much Mana?!¡± Sumire sighed into her hand. ¡°Momo, do you ever even¡­ check your stats?¡± Momo blushed. ¡°Of course I do. Sometimes¡­ Maybe a year ago.¡± ¡°Okay. That¡¯s a later problem. What I need you to do right now.¡± Sumire grabbed her hand, and pointed it upwards. ¡°Is to create a barrier like you did to save those dwarf janitors, only above us. A Nether umbrella. Do you think you¡¯re up for it?¡± Momo took in an unsteady breath. ¡°Sure!¡± Like a jolly group of tourists, Momo, Sumire, the chicken-devouts, and eventually Nyk¡ªwho had been narrowly avoiding getting hailed to death for the past ten minutes¡ªall paraded under Momo¡¯s giant Nether umbrella as absolute hell rained from the skies above. They shuffled quickly east, towards where Teddy and Radu had vanished. They quickly came upon one of the chicken churches. It had been absolutely desecrated by the weather, its steeples strewn across the pavement, its stained-glass windows shattered. They ran inside, crept over broken benches and fallen sculptures, and discovered a staircase descending underground. All the torches on the way down had been broken, destroyed by wayward debris, so they felt through the darkness until Momo heard voices¡ªhushed whispers and absent chatter. The smell of alcohol, too. Like a tavern at the bottom of a cave system. After determining that they were far enough underground, Momo deactivated the umbrella. ¡°Hello?¡± she called out meekly, her voice echoing through the chamber. She was pressed against an unseeable door. She pushed at it, but the door resisted. It felt like there were several things on the other side propped against it. ¡°It¡¯s, um, your queen. Please let me in.¡± ¡°Go away, hail-beast!¡± a voice cried from the other side. ¡°We will not be vanquished by your relentless blocks of ice, nor your murderous lightning! Stand down, and stay out!¡± Momo deflated. Her citizens, bright as always. Sumire knocked heavy on the door, scowling. ¡°Let us in you idiots!¡± ¡°Sumire?¡± It was Akram¡¯s voice coming from the other side. Momo heard the sound of things being shoved and thrown about¡ªfurniture cracking¡ªand then the doors yawned open, greeting Momo with the sight of hundreds, nay, thousands, cooped up¡­ in a chicken coop. There were equal amounts of chickens as people. The place was a complete haystack, brimming with lost feathers and artificial grass, eggs and sunlamps. A chicken was sitting on Akram¡¯s shoulder, absently plucking at his ear. Behind him was Radu, and on top of Radu¡¯s shoulders¡­ was Viktor, holding Baryte in a cage above the crowds. It appeared he was using the undead bird as a beacon of hope for the anxious citizens, swaying the cage hypnotically back and forth and whispering soothing mantras. ¡°Trust in the bird¡­¡± he cooed. ¡°Look to Baryte for salvation¡­¡± ¡°All praise the holy chicken,¡± the crowd said in chorus, clasping their hands together and bowing their heads in ceremony. ¡°Let he be our shining, skeletal light in times of peril.¡± Momo shook her head. It was an unbelievably weird sight, but at least it was working. Everyone seemed much more tranquil than expected given the situation outside. ¡°Sumire, can you handle everything for a second?¡± she said, tugging on the other girl¡¯s sleeve. ¡°I just need a moment alone to collect my thoughts.¡± ¡°We¡¯re partners, remember?¡± the other woman said, smirking affectionately. She tipped her nonexistent cowboy hat. ¡°Leave the people-wrangling to me.¡± Momo smiled softly at her, placed a kiss on her cheek, and sought out a quiet corner of the coop to figure out how to do the impossible. 215 – Carnage, Violence, and... Chicken Walking away from the crowds, Momo found a suitable coop to sit herself in. There was a female chicken occupying it¡ªshyer than the others, cowering in a corner and clucking. Momo¡¯s audio courier promptly filled her in with the chicken¡¯s social profile.
Type: Chicken. Name: Bonbon. Level 3. HP: 4 / 15 It¡¯s just a chicken.
¡°Oh no, your health¡­ You must be starving.¡± Momo looked around, locating a basket of feed to the left of her. She scooped her hand in, bundled the seeds in her open palms, then offered it to meek hen. The hen cocked its head at her, suspicious. To the meager chicken, Momo was just another one of the terrifying giants that had come flooding into her nest. Storming the gates of her peaceful abode. Bonbon was used to one or two giants visiting her every few days¡ªthe priests like Brother Hencrest and Father Feather who tidied her coop and tended to her eggs¡ªbut this measly, squirming girl was an unknown variable. She did not bear any of the signs of the chicken devout, and thus, Bonbon remained skeptical. She gave the girl a judgemental glance. ¡°Hi Bonbon,¡± Momo whispered, completely unbeknownst to the chicken¡¯s inner monologue. ¡°All these noisy human beings have you too scared to eat, huh? That¡¯s no good.¡± Momo carefully extended her palms further. The chicken, hungry as she was, sniffed the feed, but still didn¡¯t move from her place in the corner. Momo could tell¡ªshe was petrified. Eager to find a way to help, Momo checked her Con Artist and Master Manipulator skills, hoping there¡¯d be something in there to help convince the chicken to eat, but alas, all of those skills were better suited for manipulating enemies, not soothing scared birds. And she was doubtful that she could convince the bird to eat a piece of persuasive candy. A loud boom echoed from the tall ceiling above, causing the bunker¡¯s walls to shake. This had an immediate effect on the hen. The chicken jumped in fear, flapping her wings madly. Momo tried to reach out to her, but the beast just snapped at her hand, ferocious. ¡°Poor baby,¡± Momo said, biting her lip. She rapidly scrolled through her internal grimoire, searching endlessly until she landed on one skill she had only ever tried once before: [Charmer]. It was the skill that had gotten destroyed by the bugged out System back in the Oblivion Crisis, but Morgana had promised to fix it and give it a proper description. Momo had never checked to see if she made good on that promise. ¡°Skill check,¡± she murmured, watching as the chicken jumped and down like a mad bunny.
[Charmer]: For 60 seconds, the target¡¯s disposition towards you will increase by as many Charisma points as you possess. This skill can be cast silently.
Perfect. Momo silently cast [Charmer]. After a moment, Bonbon¡¯s rabid up-and-down momentum came to a halt, its endless squawking quieting to a nervous murmur. It looked at her with unsure eyes. Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. ¡°There you go,¡± Momo said, outstretching her seed-brimming palm again. ¡°Bon appetit.¡± It inched closer, one foot after another, and then delicately placed its beak in Momo¡¯s hand. Once the fear left Bonbon, the bird transformed into a seed-eating machine, gobbling up the feed in her hand and then squawking for more, which Momo easily obliged. The bird went through six handfuls total before she stopped, squawking in fullness and resting on her haunches. ¡°Good work, Bonbon.¡± Momo ruffled the feathers on the chicken¡¯s head. Another loud boom shook the cave. The chicken complained loudly again, only this time¡ª instead of spiraling into utter terror¡ªit hastily burrowed itself in Momo¡¯s lap, hiding underneath her oversized cloak. Momo laughed. It looked like she¡¯d become suddenly pregnant with a shivering, squawking baby. She held the chicken tightly to her stomach until the tremors passed. ¡°I feel you, Bon,¡± she mumbled. ¡°War¡¯s no place for a chicken.¡± Momo had never related more to a bird before. She wished she had a giant woman with a cozy tunic to curl all up in and wait for the worst to pass. She had Sumire, of course, but the pirate was rather normal-sized. Perhaps there was a kind of potion¡­ What am I even doing? She grimaced. You need to be thinking on how to solve a nation-wide crisis, Momo. Not this. But where to begin? Casting [Focus], she gathered all the information she knew in a neat little pile in her head. She knew that Kyros and his holy hellions were most likely soon to penetrate her sphere of defense. She knew that Sera had teamed up with nearly every god and goddess in the pantheon to unseat Morgana. ¡°I need to be stronger. They¡¯re gods. I¡¯m only an Expert,¡± she mumbled, hugging Bonbon to her chest. ¡°How am I supposed to tell an entire pantheon to fuck off?¡± Every subsequent thought felt like another nail in the city¡¯s coffin. Momo paused. Perhaps it was that ¡ª the city itself ¡ª which she had failed to consider. Her eyes drifted towards the mass of people. They dipped towards the devout, wearing their ridiculous ceremonial feathers and praying to the caged, glowing Baryte. Momo looked down at the pouch protruding from her center, and felt equal amounts of embarrassment and amusement. I¡¯m really no different than any of them, she thought. She had been too arrogant before, writing off the devout. Too desperate to be seen as a better savior than a silly little chicken, when it was the chicken who was there for them, even now. Not her. That settles it. ¡°If the whole of the heavens is against us,¡± Momo murmured, eyes following the bird¡¯s cage as it swung gently left to right. ¡°Might as well take advantage of Chicken Judas.¡± ¡ª Radu was put on full time Baryte duty, allowing Momo to lead Viktor to her new personal office¡ª Bonbon¡¯s coop¡ªand present her idea. ¡°The Chickenductor,¡± Momo said, gesturing for him to sit in the pile of hay she had arranged for him. ¡°It¡¯s the thing powering this entire city now, right?¡± He nodded. ¡°Okay, got it. Didn¡¯t you mention something about using the Nether lighting bolts raining down from the sky to power it?¡± ¡°Ah, and here I thought you were going to yell at me again,¡± Viktor said, turning his nose up at her. He was sitting cross-legged in the coop next to her, his arms crossed defensively. ¡°But yes, I did indeed mention that. An idea you quickly shot down, may I remind you.¡± ¡°Can you save the pettiness for later, please? There¡¯s,¡±¡ªanother loud bang rang out from above, and the shelter shuttered¡ª¡°clearly more pressing matters.¡± ¡°Fine.¡± ¡°Good. Now, how serious were you about that harvesting Nether electricity thing? Because I have an idea. And I need to verify with you just how stupid it might be.¡± ¡°I was deadly serious,¡± he scoffed. ¡°As I always am.¡± But then he dropped his condescension, and looked at her earnestly. ¡°Look¡ªyou are the Queen, and I am your Court Sage, your highness. Please stop looking at me like that, and put my vast, limitless knowledge to use, won¡¯t you?¡± Momo smiled at him. ¡°Okay.¡± Over the proceeding ten minutes, she thoroughly explained her idea, making use of wild hand gesticulations, several different analogies, and a few sailors¡¯ idioms she¡¯d picked up from Sumire. Viktor nodded along, taking notes and asking clarifying questions. ¡°So,¡± Viktor said once she finally finished. ¡°To summarize. You want to use my Chickenductor for¡­ carnage, violence, and revenge?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± Momo said, catching her breath. ¡°Pretty much.¡± 216 – Level UP(s)! As it turned out, Viktor had designed the chicken nurseries like a subterranean network. Each of the larger churches throughout the city had one of these so-called ¡°underground coops,¡± and each coop was connected to the two closest other coops, producing a root-like structure of interconnected tunnels. At their very center, lying the farthest below the city¡¯s surface, was Viktor¡¯s laboratory¡ªthe mad scientist¡¯s lair. Riding on the back of Vra¡¯ta in a slimmed down version of his bus form, Momo, Viktor, Grimli, and most notably, Baryte the chicken, made their way to that epicenter. They lit the way with Viktor¡¯s so-called beak lanterns¡ªdevices which had small indents in the bottom shaped like, well, a beak. These slots looked like the kind of thing where you would traditionally expect a battery pack to be inserted. Instead, Baryte simply slotted his beak in for a few seconds, and voila: the device spurred to life, crackling electricity spurting from the lightbulb-like center. ¡°I don¡¯t understand,¡± Momo said, staring in jaw-hanging confusion at the gadget as it brightened the cavern, casting her shadow across the wall. ¡°I know he has that magical stone¡ªbaryte¡ªinside of him, but how is he generating electricity all on his own like that? Does he work like a battery?¡± ¡°A what-now?¡± Viktor said, affectionately patting Baryte¡¯s bony head. ¡°I don¡¯t know much about a bladdery, but I can tell you how it works scientific-ally. You see, once Baryte became undead, I was able to much more easily experiment with his baryte core. I kind of just slapped different materials onto it until something reacted, and then¡ªboom!¡± He attempted to convey a nuclear explosion with his hands. ¡°I discovered that if you put good, hardy dwarven metal on one end, and bad, corrosive elvish metal on the other, he generates gnomic currents like no one¡¯s business. All I have to do is hook him up to something, like one of these lanterns, and it¡¯ll brighten up like the sun.¡± Momo stared at him blankly. So¡­ a battery. ¡°It was the discovery a lifetime,¡± he continued, grinning widely. ¡°It even caused me to win the Mole City Grand Prize in Ingenuity. I was honored.¡± ¡°Isn¡¯t that a prize¡­ you gave out?¡± ¡°Does it matter?¡± he huffed, crossing his arms. Seeing as it would take at least another five minutes to get to the laboratory, Momo decided to finally handle that annoying courier from before. Even if her plan to leverage science against magic worked, she¡¯d need all the help she could get in the inevitable fallout. ¡°System, can I receive my mail now?¡± As quick as the words left her lips, a piece of parchment burst through the stone walls of the cavern, slipped through Vra¡¯ta¡¯s window, and landed in her lap. ¡°What on Alois was that?¡± Grimli jumped. He had been consumed by his lute. He was playing a gentle lullaby for Baryte, who was snoring soundly on his lap. ¡°An especially noisy courier,¡± Viktor commented brusquely, turning in his seat to glare at Momo and cover Baryte¡¯s nonexistent ears. ¡°Won¡¯t you keep it down next time, Momo? You¡¯re scaring the chicken. Although I¡¯m sure you couldn¡¯t help this one¡ªmy lecture on gnomic currents probably just leveled up your Intelligence quite a bit, didn¡¯t it?¡± The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. Momo rolled her eyes. Luckily for her, a bit of good news was waiting for her on the parchment.
Greetings. In the time it took for you to finally open this message, the Goddess Morgana finished her extended session of slamming her head against the wall, as is her new hobby, and approached us, The Nether Association of System Administrators, to deliver a final verdict on your awarded experience points. While we disagree with the resolution she has chosen, our hands are tied. We tried to appeal the motion, but it turned out that the Appeals Court, once a dependable governmental body, is now just seven copies of Valerica. So you can guess how that went. Congratulations. You have been awarded the maximum amount of experience possible for Action Type 3LB4D2R, or, in mortal terms, Killing a Lesser God Of The Same Faction or Domain. You have gained three levels in Nether Dokkaebi. I hope you¡¯re happy.
¡°So passive aggressive,¡± Momo muttered, but she was excited. Three levels was even more than she expected to get. She flipped the page over.
You have gained a level in Nether Dokkaebi! You have gained a level in Nether Dokkaebi! You have gained a level in Nether Dokkaebi! You are now level 6 in Nether Dokkaebi. You have gained the following skills: [Body Double]: Using your mastery over Nether manipulation, you can temporarily pull a version of yourself from a different dimension. Given that it is a real person, you cannot mind-control this double. It will simply act as if it was you, with all the accompanying personality traits and quirks. This skill works within a 30 foot radius, and lasts for 10 minutes. When the double is on the verge of being killed, it will despawn.
Momo grinned, pumping the air with her fist. ¡°I got a body double skill,¡± she cheered, completely mentally bypassing the fact that she would be summoning a real life, alternate universe version of herself. ¡°Like the one Valerica has. Super useful.¡± ¡°Congratulations, your highness,¡± Grimli said. ¡°That sounds most beneficial.¡± ¡°Great, more of you,¡± Viktor huffed. Grimli nearly smashed his lute over the man¡¯s head. ¡°I don¡¯t particularly see the use for that skill, seeing as you have the skill [Summon Lesser Familiar], do you not? That¡¯s far more wide-reaching. You could summon yourself with that easily.¡± ¡°No, actually,¡± Momo mumbled. ¡°That skill always causes whatever I imagine to come out looking pretty deformed. Plus, Nether summons are always colored completely black. Any enemy with an Intelligence above 2 would be able to tell the difference.¡± Momo awaited a response, but Viktor was already preoccupied with something else, sketching madly in his notebook. As soon as he realized he was wrong, he had stopped listening. She sighed, and kept reading.
The following skills have received upgrades: [Possess] ¡ú [Possess II]: Previously, you could only possess things that weighed up to 40kg. That number has been increased to 800kg.
Huh. Okay. So I could possess like¡­ a car? Maybe? Ugh. I have no idea how much 800kg is. Why is this in kg? Doesn¡¯t the system know I¡¯m stupid and also American?
[Soul First Aid] ¡ú [Soul First Aid II]: You can heal as many soul chains as you¡¯d like simultaneously, but this is limited by your mana count.
Wait¡­ what? Momo trembled, her fingers clenching around the feeble paper. She reread the skill description several times over, her heart pounding. I must be missing something. She read it twice more. Held it upside down, twisted it, asked the System to clarify. But nothing changed. It was plain to see¡ªshe was reading it correctly. This was the skill she had been waiting for. She was going to undo Sera¡¯s death box. 217 – The Chickenductor The party trode on through the caverns, beak-lanterns in hand, until they were faced with their own shadows, long and quivering across the wall. They had hit a dead end. ¡°We¡¯re here,¡± Viktor said, clapping his hands excitedly. The sound echoed like two tiny gongs. They exited the vehicle, Grimli demorphed Vra¡¯ta back into a pocket-sized orb, and they all approached the entrance to Viktor¡¯s secret laboratory. It lay under a mass of rocks and vines, camouflaging rather effectively into the cavern wall. Viktor brushed away the foliage and located a beak-shaped indent in the rock, in which he affectionately shoved Baryte¡¯s jaw. ¡°Good chicken,¡± he said, holding him there for a moment before popping him back out. In response, electric runes came alight on the surface of the wall, beginning from the hidden door¡¯s centerpoint and slowly appearing, letter by letter, in a spiral pattern. This continued until the entire wall was covered in golden symbols. It was an astonishing sight. Momo had seen a lot of supernatural shit since she came to Alois, but something about the circumstances of this¡ªthe complete darkness, the eerie quiet, the slow crawl of a foreign script across the surface of a cave wall¡ªgave her goosebumps. She was truly living in a low-budget fantasy film. ¡°What language is that?¡± she whispered to Viktor. ¡°The runes.¡± ¡°Dwarven script,¡± answered Grimli. ¡°It¡¯s a poem. It roughly translates to¡­¡± His speech halted, his eyebrows furrowing. ¡°Banana¡­ holy banana? This doesn¡¯t make any lyrical sense.¡± ¡°Sure it does,¡± Viktor huffed. ¡°And you¡¯re reading it wrong¡ªit¡¯s a poem I wrote about chickens.¡± Grimli nearly keeled over in laughter. ¡°Oh, now this is just grand¡ªthe great Viktor Mole, who claims to know more about dwarves than a real dwarf does, can¡¯t even spell chicken right! You imbecile, that is the word for banana. This is a piss-poor poem about a holy banana. My mum¡¯s pet donkey, born with only a quarter of a brain, could have done better than this if I were to give him him a pencil and an afternoon.¡± Viktor looked like he was about to lob his chicken at Grimli like a javelin. ¡°Hello. Boys. Boys,¡± Momo said loudly, stepping between them. The previously hidden door to the laboratory began to churn open. ¡°You can fight to the death over dwarf jeopardy questions later. Let¡¯s deal with the important stuff first, please?¡± Luckily, Viktor¡¯s desire to show off overshadowed his need for violence. "Your Highness," Viktor said with a flourish, guiding Momo into the concealed chamber. "Behold, my pi¨¨ce de r¨¦sistance." In stark contrast to the dimly lit cavern, Viktor''s laboratory blazed with the brilliance of a thousand suns, a frenetic symphony of invention in motion. Every corner of the room teemed with eccentric contraptions ¡ª arcane crystals shimmering, coils and wires buzzing with energy, gleaming metals, and every array of beak-powered accessory, from motorcycles to microwaves. The crowning jewel of this spectacle was undoubtedly the Chickenductor, an immense, cannon-like contraption that sat in the middle of the room, illuminated by a halo of beak-lanterns. Viktor had invested substantial efforts to refine the device since Momo last saw it. It now featured wheels, allowing it to traverse the room and the cavernways with ease, and boasted a significantly enlarged central chamber, ensuring Baryte''s comfort within its metal embrace. Viktor proceeded to guide Momo through an exhaustive tour of the contraption, repeatedly shoving the bird in and out of the battery-chamber, an activity Baryte accepted with remarkable patience. ¡°This beautiful hunk of metal powers the entire city of Morganium,¡± he explained, gesturing to the hundreds of cables which laid at the bottom of the device, snaking along the floor and crawling up towards the ceiling. ¡°So if we disconnect it¡­¡± ¡°The city will be flung right back into the dark ages. No more elevators, no more microwaves, no more television,¡± Viktor chortled maniacally before Momo''s stern, disapproving gaze quelled his laughter. "Not that such a prospect is amusing," he quickly amended. ¡°Frankly¡­ I¡¯m surprised,¡± she said. ¡°I thought you¡¯d be more resistant to putting your technology at risk. I know you care about this beautiful hunk of metal a lot more than any of those people shivering in the cave. You¡¯re really going to let me put this thing to test against Sera?¡± Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. ¡°Please,¡± Viktor scoffed. ¡°Do you think I am that shallow? I am a High Engineer by title these days, sure, but in my heart, in my soul, I am but a mage. A goddess-fearing necromancer. A changed man, really. I didn¡¯t see it before, but Baryte has woken me up. A device is just a device, but nothing is more powerful, more precious, than him¡­ My avian son.¡± Viktor raised his chicken up like a lion cub, looking at the undead fowl like a proud parent. ¡°He is my trade secret. My prized pudding,¡± he cooed. His eyes had gotten watery. ¡°If he falls in this war, if he perishes by Sera¡¯s wicked will¡ªso too will I. To the Nether with both of us.¡± Momo stared at him, speechlessly. Did Viktor actually¡­ grow as a person? ¡°So no. If it isn¡¯t clear.¡± He cleared his throat. ¡°You can do what you must with my creation to win this war. As long as my chicken stays safe.¡± She shook her head, disbelieving. ¡°Okay,¡± she said, laying her hand on Viktor¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Let¡¯s do this, then.¡± ¡ª They carefully maneuvered the Chickenductor back to the main enclave, where Sumire and the others patiently awaited their return. Momo was startled by the resumption of the deafening booms overhead¡ªshe had almost forgotten they were in an active warzone. The quiet of the caverns had calmed into her a false sense of security. Solving this dire situation was no longer an abstract concept; it was her sole imperative. With Baryte nestled protectively under her arm, Momo positioned herself near the doorway, feeling the weight of the citizens'' collective gaze upon her. It was no secret that their primary interest was in the chicken rather than her, but Momo had come to understand that, in this critical juncture, what truly mattered was just getting them to pay attention at all. ¡°This weird looking hunk of metal over here¡ªas I¡¯m sure you guys know all about¡ªis Viktor Mole¡¯s Chickenductor.¡± She slapped the surface of the device, and it echoed through the corridor. ¡°And it might be our only hope. We are surrounded by enemies on all fronts. Excalibur squidheads. Traitorous necromancers. Actual gods. My magic is no longer going to be enough. So our resident High Engineer, Mr. Mole, has kindly lended me both this device, and more importantly, his dear¡­ your dear¡­ chicken.¡± The crowd immediately descended into chaos. ¡°You can¡¯t endanger the holy one!¡± someone shouted. ¡°We¡¯ll kill you if you even dare!¡± another added, brazen. The rest of the crowd seemed to agree with the statement. Sumire scowled, reaching for her weapon. Taking no chances, Momo immediately mumbled, ¡°[Crowd Control],¡± feeling no shame in doing so. It had an immediate calming effect. They all looked a lot less murder-hungry. She gave Sumire the signal to wait, then immediately followed the spell up with another, casting [Illusion of the Other]. She watched as dread replaced anger. ¡°If I don¡¯t act now, if your god, this chicken, doesn¡¯t help me¡ªall of our fates are sealed, including his own,¡± Momo said. Brought forward by [Illusion of the Other], she watched as a hundred tiny apparitions appeared in front of each of Morganium¡¯s citizens; the imagery in all of them was the same: the holy chicken being slew by Jarva. Cold-blooded avian murder. As the seconds dragged on, a shift happened in the crowd. They began to stare at her not in suspicious anger, but instead¡­ with hope. They dropped their scowls and their weapons, and began to chant. ¡°Show them who''s the real boss of that stupid pantheon, Baryte!¡± ¡°Send ¡®em crying back to the Nether!¡± Momo felt an audio courier mumble in her ear. It was the Ruler System. Critical Approval Surge: Approval Rate In Morganium At 99% Momo sighed in relief. The mob had chosen her, finally¡­ as the chicken¡¯s rightful sidekick. That was good enough for her. ¡ª ¡°So, do you think it¡¯ll work?¡± Momo asked. ¡°I¡¯m certain it will,¡± Viktor replied. ¡°They think this storm is to their advantage¨Cha! A truly unscientific conclusion. It will be their utter doom.¡± A party of Viktor, Momo, Sumire and Nyk traveled up the stairs back into the desecrated church. They were traveling under the shadow of a Nether blanket¡ªmuch like the one Momo had cast to get them there initially¡ªonly now Nyk was the one channeling it. Momo was conserving her Mana for later. Although she wouldn¡¯t need any in order to operate the Chickenductor, (Baryte would be doing the heavy lifting) she didn¡¯t want to expend it unnecessarily. ¡°As you know, Knights of the Sun are only operating at a fraction of their power when the sky is overcast,¡± Viktor continued. ¡°Right now, with a storm like this, they are at their weakest. I bet that¡¯s why they haven¡¯t been able to crack the Nether barrier yet.¡± Momo gazed up at the bubble. The Excalibur octopus from before was still standing there, only now he had company. Several others, including that squirmy knight Momo had seen before: Cyllindrel von Haus Cylinder. In total, there were seven now, looking like a rather intimidating squad of purple power rangers as they pounded on the Nether dome. All they were missing was their last compatriot: Gorim. Good thing he¡¯s buried under Morganium just about as deep as the Earth¡¯s core right now. ¡°I know that part. But will electricity be able to hurt them?¡± Momo asked as she heaved the Chickenductor forward. ¡°Or will it just bounce off of them? I know Nether can hurt them, but I know nothing about how electricity works in the magic system¡­¡± ¡°Electricity by itself, perhaps not,¡± Viktor confessed. ¡°But Nether electricity¡­ absolutely! Holy Knights and their ilk are weak to Nether attacks, as you say, but an attack like this¡ªa combo between sizzling electrical current and diabolical Nether, and then supercharged by the wrath of the Gods¡ªoh, it will do more than hurt. It will knock their tentacles off.¡± The Chickenductor came to a screeching halt as they reached the center of the plaza. Hail pounded overhead, hitting the Nether blanket like an avalanche. Nyk¡¯s spell was the only thing preventing them from being squashed like ants. ¡°Now, all that¡¯s left, your highness,¡± Viktor said, unbuckling the seatbelt in the Chickenductor¡¯s chair, then slapping the metallic seat with glee. ¡°Is for you to put this baby in drive.¡± 218 – Any Volunteers? ¡°Okay, let¡¯s do this,¡± Momo said, adrenaline rushing through her as she gripped the controls. A moment passed as the unfortunate reality gripped her back. ¡°Viktor, just one more question.¡± ¡°Shoot, your highness?¡± ¡°How the hell do I operate this thing?¡± The controls consisted of three handbrake-looking levers sitting just above the chicken-hatch. They reminded her of the controls of a manual car, only hand-operated. There was the first lever¡ªthe clutch¡ªwhich, according to Viktor, mediated the amount of energy outputted by the Chickenductor. You pulled it once quickly to start the process, then, as the electrical engine filled, the lever would slowly propel forward. Once it reached an adequate position, Momo had to pull it back¡ªvery promptly, Viktor urged¡ªelse the machine would overclock and cook Baryte like a thanksgiving turkey. A non-desirable outcome. Then there was the second lever¡ªthe metaphorical gas pedal¡ªwhich caused the built up electricity to shoot through the barrel of the conductor, emptying the engine. A tiny glass apparatus was attached to the side of the lever. Viktor tapped his pudgy finger on it. ¡°This is the charge meter,¡± he instructed, shouting over the hail. The meter ranged from empty to fully charged. ¡°Pull the lever not a second before it hits its max. Anything less than full charge, and it¡¯ll sputter out.¡± He made a gesture with his hands like a dying windmill. He attempted to explain the science behind this phenomenon, but the words just washed over Momo like beach waves. Something something gnomic currents. Eventually, he moved on to the third lever. It wasn¡¯t a break, as Momo¡¯s analogy begged for, but more of an eject button. Pulling it up would cause the hatch door to fly open and for the chicken to be expelled outwards¡ªflung like a pebble in a slingshot. ¡°It¡¯s a preventative measure in the case of overclocking,¡± Viktor explained, glaring at her pointedly. ¡°If you pull in too much energy, pull this without hesitation, do you hear me?¡± Feeling chastised in advance, Momo nodded. ¡°I think I understand the controls. But how do we harness the Nether lightning?¡± she asked, looking upwards. ¡°Is there some kind of spell we can use to redirect Nerida¡¯s bolts into the engine? Or some kind of machine setting?¡± Nyk¡¯s protective carpet of Nether was blocking most of the sky, but Momo could still see flashes of scorching light dancing along its edges. Every so often, that light¡ªburning yellow and purple, an intermingled nightmare of the natural and the sublime¡ªwould strike the ground, exploding an already exploded building into further debris. The ground would shake. Baryte would tremble. Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. ¡°Oh, you humor me, my queen,¡± Viktor laughed, slapping her shoulder. She did not return his amusement. ¡°We already went over the details, did we not? We cast back the Nether carpet, allow the lightning to strike the machine, and subsequently let it charge the engine. The Chickenductor is grounded against such currents, so it won¡¯t explode on impact or anything, if that¡¯s what worries you. Baryte will be just fine.¡± Momo¡¯s face drained of color. ¡°Let it ¡®strike the machine¡¯? It¡¯s not the undead bird I¡¯m worried about, it¡¯s me!¡± she exclaimed, gaping. He seemed confused by her concerns, and mildly offended at her lack of concern for the chicken. ¡°I don¡¯t get it. You said that it would be simple. That you would just guide the lightning to the barrel of the conductor, and then¡ª¡± ¡°Yes, exactly! Guide it! That¡¯s where you come in.¡± ¡°Me?¡± ¡°Well, of course.¡± He looked at her impatiently. ¡°Lightning is attracted to high points, so you¡¯re going to have to use that skill of yours¡ª[Make Nether], or whatever it is¡ªto construct a tall pole of Nether, hold it, and let the electricity flow through you and into the machine. It is a very simple circuit. In and out. You¡¯ll be just fine.¡± ¡°Are you insane?¡± Sumire barked. ¡°That would kill her!¡± ¡°What she said!¡± Momo added. In the distance behind Viktor, another tall government building was struck by the airplane-sized hail. The structure crumbled like doughy pie crust. ¡°I can¡¯t hold this for much longer,¡± Nyk said. She was exhausted, wincing. ¡°The hail is coming faster and faster¡ªif Sera was beating us with a bat before, she just traded it in for a chainsaw.¡± With a frustrated sigh, Momo got out of her seat. ¡°I¡¯m not risking it,¡± she said. ¡°If I go up in flames, the Wraith Box activates. Then it¡¯s over for all of us.¡± ¡°But¡­ it would be so marvelous! Think of the scientific advancement, the accolades!¡± Viktor pressed. His lip then twitched, the tips of his ears flamed red, seemingly realizing what he had said. ¡°And¡ªand for the good of the people, of course. The citizenry.¡± ¡°I knew all you cared about were the accolades!¡± Momo said, her cheeks heating. ¡°They''re not all I cared about¡ª¡± ¡°If they''re not, then you do it,¡± Momo said, hooking her thumb towards the chair. ¡°I¡¯ll make you the Nether. You get in the seat.¡± Viktor looked suddenly very worried about the prospect of being struck by lightning. ¡°I¡¯d rather not, you know, I¡¯m more of a behind the scenes kind of guy.¡± ¡°Do you want to be a dead on the ground, bleeding out kind of guy?¡± Sumire said, grinning eerily. Momo had looked away for only a moment, and suddenly the pirate was looming over him. Towering over Viktor like the grim reaper.. ¡°Because that¡¯s where you¡¯ll be unless you Get. In. The. Goddamn. Chair.¡± Momo swallowed, pupils dilating. That¡¯s my girl. ¡°But, but¡ª¡± Viktor squirmed. Before Viktor could run, hide, or do anything equally cowardly or embarrassing, Sumire picked him up like a ragdoll, placed him in the seat, and glared. ¡°Nyk,¡± she said, turning her head. ¡°Pull back the curtain.¡± BIG ANNOUNCEMENT First, the quick version. I have a new story live on Royal Road! It''s called Reign of Villainy (lol) and I''m super excited about it. It''s got everything you like from Momo: crazy hijinks, ridiculous, loveable characters, a fabulously strange world, but with a slightly more realistic tone, and a very different type of protagonist. Hint hint: she''s actually evil this time (think, what if Valerica was the protagonist instead of Momo.) If you want to read it, I can''t include links in the main body for whatever reason, so the link is in the POST - CHAPTER NOTE! But here''s the blurb: A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
Akemi died the same day Elders Scrolls VI came out. Can you really blame her for wanting to stab somebody? In a universe where heroes are more populous than mosquitoes, choosing the Villainous path is rife with System-provided perks¡ªall it takes is disposing of enough goody-two-shoes knights and rich princes. Of course, there¡¯s just one small detail: everyone is out to kill you. After living a mind-numbing life of earthly inadequacy, Akemi was given the choice between transmigrating as a beloved, world-renowned hero, or choosing the villainous class known as The Accountant. Only this time, with less bankruptcy, and more throat-cutting. She didn¡¯t even have to think about it. Villainy just sounded way more fun. - Fast-paced assassin action sprinkled with comedy - Loveable, if slightly deranged, three-dimensional characters - Layers of worldbuilding to pick apart, revealed slow and steady - And of course, one villainess¡¯s ruthless pursuit of power
Also, in order to give this story the shot it deserves, I will be focusing my full attention on it for 2 weeks, in which time I''ll be taking a break from Momo. Momo will resume normally after that! The rest of Momo Book 3 is on Patreon if you want to finish it now. Thanks for your understanding, and I hope you enjoy Reign of Villainy! 219 – Lightning in a Barrel Nyk sweeped back the curtain of Nether, Sumire cast her hand up and liquified the hail as it came raining down, and Momo¡¯s tall rod of Nether sat in Viktor¡¯s hand; it was the perfect chorus of apocalyptic collaboration. Sera¡¯s lightning struck the tip of the rod, bounded down the body, shimmied its way through Viktor¡ªmaking all of the hairs on his wrinkled arms stand rigid, and causing his eyebrows to puff up like pissed-off persian cats¡ªand then, with bated breath, they waited. Waited either for Viktor to keel over and pass out, or, possibly¡­ The Chickenductor¡¯s engine hummed to life. Astonished, Momo¡¯s eyes traveled to the chicken hatch. Purple and yellow lightning, zig-zagging endlessly without losing momentum, bounded around the inside of the round container like a washing machine turned on high. They had done it¡ªthey had captured lightning in a barrel. Her eyes then went back to the wizard, who was by all accounts, still breathing. It shouldn¡¯t have surprised Momo that Viktor survived. She had wanted him too, obviously¡ªshe had watched his health points and his soul chain like a hawk¡ªbut, admittedly, she had been skeptical. Given past experience¡ª(see: his treasonous, self-centered, and generally psychopathic tendencies)¡ªshe had assumed that he had lied to her, that the lightning would have killed her on the spot, rattled her bones and showered the pavement with her remains. But, by Morgana¡¯s good will, or perhaps her negligence, the old man persisted. Momo watched as his soul chain cuddled up close to the grim reaper¡¯s blade, near enough to kiss it, then deftly dodged out of the way at the last second. The lightning ripped unobtrusively right through him, the only noticeable ramifications of its passing being the goosebumps running up his arms and legs and the pale, ghastly shade of his skin. He slapped his cheeks, disbelieving. ¡°I¡ªI¡¯m alive,¡± he muttered. Then he huffed, waving his hand in the air. ¡°Well, I mean, of course I am. As always, science prevails,¡± he added pointedly, glaring at Momo. His own mortality only concerned him for about half a second before he turned his attention to the machine. He clamored out of his seat, pressing his soggy, sweat-drenched hands to the glass covering of the chicken hatch. It fogged up with his breath. ¡°By the heavens, it worked! We¡¯ve captured the wrath of the gods in a chicken-sized container!¡± Momo shook her head. They had really done it. ¡°Nyk, cover me!¡± Sumire shouted. ¡°I¡¯m out of Mana!¡± With a grimace, Nyk flung her hand up and covered them once more. The Nether slithered over them like a protective blanket as the hail resumed. Sumire clutched her chest, nearly out of breath. Momo went over to her to comfort her. ¡°You okay?¡± ¡°That¡¯s a fuckton of hail,¡± Sumire said, coughing. ¡°It nearly killed me just keeping it at bay.¡± ¡°You did great,¡± Momo said, smiling and kissing her forehead. Sumire blushed. Momo then turned to the rest of them. ¡°You all did. But now it¡¯s my turn. Thanks for volunteering, Viktor.¡± ¡°I cannot overstate to what degree I did not do such a thing¡ª¡± ¡°Grimli,¡± Momo said, ignoring the mage. ¡°What do you see?¡± Momo had appointed Grimli to watch the holy knights while they were busy capturing the lightning. Grimli had taken the job on like it was the most important thing he ever did, his back straight and poised like a royal guard. He saluted her, then gave his report. ¡°They seem to be doing some kind of¡ªsome sort of ritual,¡± he stuttered, gesticulating wildly. ¡°They keep repeating the same movements in the same pattern, you see, the squid-head first, with his mighty greatsword, then the blond-haired musclehead next¡­ I¡¯m not much of a mage myself, but I¡¯ve seen some of the dark clerics in Deepgrove do a similar thing to usher in a new season of crops. It¡¯s like a, a¡ª¡± ¡°¡ªa summoning circle!¡± Viktor interrupted, thrusting his fist towards the sky. Grimli looked utterly pissed to have his moment stolen from him. ¡°They¡¯re forming a summoning circle.¡± The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. Momo grimaced. Summoning circles were like Schrodinger''s cat. No matter what situation they appeared in, no matter how inconsequential they sounded at face value¡ªthey had the ability to summon anything from a smelly infant to a demonically possessed tyrannosaurus rex. But until the ritual was complete, until you placed all the correct salts and furs and said all the proper incantations, they were just circles. Harmless, scary-looking circles. Best to keep it that way. Giving Sumire one last squeeze on the shoulder, Momo climbed into the Chickenductor. The seat was still blisteringly hot¡ªlightning residue. Wincing, she took the controls, rehearsing what Viktor had taught her. I should have cast [Focus] while he was explaining, she thought, but at least it meant she could do it now. She cast it over herself, and took a deep, shaky breath in. [Focus] brought her targets into vivid detail. It was as Grimli had described. Exilo¡ªthe tentacled one¡ªwas dragging his greatsword in a circle along the top of the barrier. A shimmering white light followed the sword¡¯s edge. The others were on their knees in prayer. Some were jangling small golden bells. The light from the sword was pulsating harder and faster with every consequent circle. Whatever was coming, was coming closer. She stopped her mind before it veered too far into her imagination. It didn¡¯t matter what they were summoning. Infant baby or elephant god, bring it on. All I need is to fry two of these guys. That¡¯s it, then I¡¯ll hit Excalibur. Then¡­ She clenched her jaw. Then I can unleash Sera¡¯s stupid box. She took another breath in, and squeezed her eyes closed. I got this. It¡¯s just like driving a car. A manual car. Not that it bears any real importance, but Momo had never driven a manual car. She gripped the first lever and pulled it straight back. The machine instantly responded, churning to life like a motorcycle engine. It growled and barked and spat. The hum of the engine was so deafening that Momo could no longer hear the hail nor the crack of lightning. Her seat vibrated, her knees bobbed violently up and down. Baryte was squawking like a wild animal. ¡°Momo! Balance the lever!¡± Viktor shouted over the engine. He was hopping like a bunny, frantically waving his hands. ¡°Let it come to you! Handle it gently!¡± Shit. She pushed against the lever. It met her with equal and opposite resistance; the increased power of the Nether lightning was making the lever grind forward harder and faster than anticipated. She retaliated, pushing even harder, and it gave slightly, but then it suddenly veered up and down, loose and wild. The engine sputtered. ¡°Smooth it out!¡± Viktor shouted. ¡°Leverage the inner liquidity of the gnomic vibrations!¡± ¡°I have no idea what that means!¡± she shouted back at him. The engine made a noise like a microwave exploding. She screamed. ¡°Gods¡ªwhat are you doing? This isn¡¯t even difficult!¡± Viktor insisted, steam erupting from his nostrils. ¡°A child could operate it!¡± ¡°Well, too bad I¡¯m not a child!¡± He pulled at his hair. ¡°The lever is nearly at a right angle! This isn¡¯t safe¡ªeject Baryte!¡± ¡°No, not yet!¡± She gripped the lever for dear life, pouring every ounce of her strength into it. The machine hissed, its tea-kettle-like scream reaching a crescendo. She pushed and she pushed, her vision graying, a black rim forming around her eyes. Her muscles burned hotter than lava, her fingers going numb in their grip. Click. The lever stalled. She flung forward, nearly falling out of her seat. She caught herself at the last moment, breathing heavily as she kept herself inside the vehicle. The engine had calmed. It didn¡¯t turn itself off¡ªthank goodness¡ªbut it settled into a healthy hum. The regular beating of a drum. ¡°You did it!¡± Sumire shouted. ¡°I did it,¡± Momo mumbled, nearly delirious. Her fuzzy eyes focused and unfocused until they once again landed upon the septet of knights on the dome¡¯s edge. Something was rising from their summoning circle now¡ªeight tentacled legs, crawling out of a glowing recess. ¡°Queen Momo, now!¡± Grimli said, an unnatural urgency in his voice. ¡°It¡¯s nearly upon us!¡± It. Momo clenched her limp hands around the central lever. It wasn¡¯t an it¡ªit was a he. She thrust the lever back, and a ring of black smoke shot up the barrel of the cannon. That was only the chemical remnants of what was to come; within seconds, another hatch released, and the conductor vibrated ferociously as the trapped lightning shot out of its chamber. A cylinder of black and yellow flashed through the sky¡ªtwo intertwined snakes fighting for dominance. It curved up, parabolic, before landing just where Momo intended it. Boom. In the immediate aftermath, Momo¡¯s first thought was¡ªthat wasn¡¯t just two of them. The knights, deep in their ritual, were totally unprepared. They had counted completely on Sera¡¯s storm to keep any resistance at bay; consequently, the eruption of pure black magic hit them like a freight truck. Vaporized them. Electrocuted then vaporized them. It was like watching something from a nineties CGI film. All around Momo, paper couriers began to spawn. They were swarming like bees. Dozens of them. Pages upon pages, documents filing into the air like a clogged mail chute. On top of the dome, Exilo¡¯s greatsword clattered to the ground. A tentacled hand, shivering with anger, reached out to grab it. 220 – Jarva Jarva rose from the ashes of his eight disciples. Golden robes enshrouded his many writhing tentacles¡ªtentacles which were littered with small cuts, long scars of flesh, open wounds. Seven of them looked ready to detach from his body completely. His eyes, a holy yellow, were open wide, his gaping maw of a mouth stuck in a tight line. It was the kind of look that hid an apocalyptic fury. ¡°That¡¯s him, isn¡¯t it?¡± Momo said, goosebumps rushing up her skin. Even from far away, she could feel his presence¡ªit was like being trapped under the wheel of a forklift. Even with this gloomy sky, he¡¯s still that powerful? The thought gave her chills. The same thought seemed to occur to Jarva, because he tilted his smooth, slick neck towards the sky, and raised one of his tentacles; the only one that was still operable. The one representing Gorim, who was still trapped miles underground. Faint yellow magic began to glitter around the tip of it. ¡°Enough of this,¡± he muttered. His voice crackled as loud as lightning. It seemed to come from everywhere¡ªthe ground, the sky, the piles of debris. It reminded Momo of Kyros¡¯s voice. It had the same intonations, the same apathetic melody. It was as if he was nothing but a tentacled puppet of the god. A whispering vessel. ¡°Does this thing have enough charge to shoot again?¡± Momo shouted urgently to Viktor. She was already messing with the controls, pulling back the clutch. It caused the engine to sputter, but only briefly. She pulled it again¡ªand the same. The flame extinguished as quickly as it came. ¡°No,¡± Viktor said, inspecting the hatch. He had to wade through Momo¡¯s fallen couriers just to get to it. ¡°You used up all of the electricity in that one go.¡± He pressed a button, and the hatch¡¯s door popped open. Viktor gave Baryte a once-over. ¡°The dear bird is exhausted¡ªbut I believe he can power one more shot. For Gods¡¯ sake, he¡¯s powered an entire city for days on end, after all. This is nothing but light work for you, isn¡¯t it?¡± He nuzzled Baryte. The skeletal bird squawked happily. ¡°Okay. Nyk, get ready to pull back the Nether again,¡± Momo said quickly. ¡°We need to get another shot in before¡ª¡± ¡°Stop it, you fool!¡± Another voice shouted from the skies. This one was notably female¡ªbut no woman that Momo recognized. In response to it, Sumire fell to her knees, eyes wide. ¡°My goddess,¡± she murmured, almost taken in a trance. Is that Nerida? ¡°You¡¯re ruining her plan!¡± the voice shouted again, shrill and annoyed. ¡°The conditions have to be right¡ªthe clouds, the hail, the forsaken city¡ªwe must keep the sun at bay, as instructed!¡± ¡°I follow no plan except my master¡¯s,¡± Jarva said, his voice deep and uncaring. It felt like icicles on Momo¡¯s eardrums. ¡°You have proven insufficient, so you are no longer of use.¡± The magic around his tentacle exploded. Its ring of light became exponentially larger, growing and growing until it was fully encompassing the sky, blocking out the storm¡¯s darkness. No more was the hail, nor the lightning, nor the shrill insistence of the rain goddess. This enormous [Holy Enclosure] was the inverse of the Nether blanket protecting them¡ªit was a giant sun lamp, a cape of radiant light. ¡°No,¡± Momo winced, the light blinding her as she reached for the clutch. The engine sputtered¡ªthey were too late. They hadn¡¯t been fast enough. Jarva¡¯s tentacles glistened, and he sighed with relief. Momo felt his presence quadruple in strength; the air became so dry that it was hard to breathe. Grimli choked for air; Viktor coughed madly. Momo balanced her breaths in order to conserve oxygen. Luckily, they had Sumire; the former pirate cast [Humidify] around them, once again adding water vapor to the air. At the top of the dome, Jarva languidly reached for Exilo¡¯s fallen greatsword. He then produced a crystal-looking object from his hand. It was six-sided, and perfectly gold. He inserted it into the hilt of the sword. A flashing light¡ªeven brighter than the light streaming from above¡ªemanated from the sword. Momo tried her best not to cover her eyes, but the sight burnt her to the very corneas. This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. Jarva drew the sword upwards, then stilled. ¡°You¡¯re the one they call Momo, aren¡¯t you?¡± The direct address¡ªechoing from everything around her, from every broken stone and piece of pummeled grass¡ªchilled Momo to the bone. Once the burst of light around him faded, she found two carnivorous yellow eyes staring directly into her soul. Studying her. Analyzing her. Biting at her very sinew, the connective tissue holding her together. His pupils flitted quickly over her body; his slimy half-eyelids cradled her image. She must have looked like an ant to him, a pesky little child in an oversized, electrically powered go-kart. Despite that, something about his stare was reverential, respectful; it willed her to speak. His question wasn¡¯t rhetorical; it wasn¡¯t some glib, villainous remark before the inevitable monologue. He was waiting for an answer. She had imagined Jarva in many ways¡ªconniving, always; methodical, uncaring, a man who uses his knights like trivial chess pieces¡ªbut, seeing him now, she began to question her own deductions. Her own assumptions. Jarva wasn¡¯t some deluded, overconfident king. Unlike all the other overconfident knights and rooks and pawns Momo had knocked over in her journey towards Excalibur, Jarva had always held his cards close to the chest; for a disciple of the sun, he had been happy to lurk interminably in the shadows, using other people like disposable body bags until there was no other option. So what does it mean that he¡¯s here now? ¡°That¡¯s me,¡± she answered, her neck bobbing. ¡°And you¡¯re¡­¡± ¡°You already know my name,¡± he answered. His body began to levitate upwards. ¡°I am the one you stole this kingdom from. The kingdom you soiled with your dirty, salacious necromancy. I am Jarva, the mouthpiece of the rightful god of the Nether, Kyros.¡± Momo¡¯s hands curled into fists. ¡°Rightful? Please. Morgana created the Nether. Morgana created Kyros,¡± she spat, her blood boiling. Whatever quiet reverie she held for him before quickly vanished. ¡°Kyros and Morgana were friends. They were co-rulers. Two halves of a whole. Before he betrayed her.¡± ¡°Wrong,¡± he scowled. ¡°Wrong.¡± He brought his sword down. ¡°Wrong.¡± It struck the Nether barrier with the force of a thousand blades¡ªwind and smoke and fire all exploded from the tip as it collided with the surface. The Nether screamed bloody murder, the same way it did when Sera had wielded it months before; it screamed like the soul chains stuck in the Wraith Box. It was a mourning scream, a scream before death. As the smoke cleared, a long, interminable crack, like a tear in the tectonic plates, appeared along the top of the barrier. One more swing and the bubble would be split open. They¡¯d be defenseless. ¡°The magic from the Un-inhabitables,¡± Sumire gasped, taking Momo¡¯s wrist. ¡°The islands I told you about, where Jarva had been hiding out. The ones that had been sealed off? That crystal that he inserted into the sword¡ªI think that crystal is from there. It¡¯s elevating his power beyond belief. Jarva is strong, but he¡¯s only human¡ªwell, octopus. He shouldn¡¯t be able to take down this barrier alone.¡± ¡°Only human?¡± Momo questioned. ¡°I thought¡­ isn¡¯t he Kyros¡¯s Lesser God?¡± ¡°What? No,¡± Sumire said, looking at her quizzically. ¡°Momo, Kyros doesn¡¯t have a Lesser God. He doesn¡¯t let anyone approach his power, or enter his domain. Jarva isn¡¯t even an Excalibur. He¡¯s just a mouthpiece. You know how Azrael uses corpses to communicate? Kyros does something similar. That¡¯s why they have the same voice¡ªthe same mannerisms¡ªeverything. Jarva used to be a real man, a real king, before Kyros got in his head. Now he¡¯s just a body.¡± Momo stared in disbelief. She realized, never once, in all of these many months, had she heard someone address the King¡¯s class level. It was always just Jarva. It was all starting to make sense. The fact that he was an octopus¡ªthat their species produced thousands of eggs. Kyros didn''t want a figurehead. He wanted to be the figurehead. Just as Jarva had uncaringly disposed of thousands of knights, Kyros would do the same to him. ¡°So why did he refer to himself as Jarva? Why not as Kyros?¡± Sumire shrugged. ¡°A semblance of free will? A well-scripted delusion? I don¡¯t know. I found out the truth when I was training amongst his ranks. I found him in his throne room just staring blankly into a mirror, arguing with himself as if he had two heads. I realized there was another voice up there¡ªa god loitering about in his subconscious.¡± ¡°Oh¡­ my god.¡± ¡°Yeah.¡± ¡°So what happens if we kill him?¡± Momo muttered bleakly. Thankfully, Jarva was still recovering from his first swing, breathing heavily and raising the sword slowly towards the heavens. ¡°Will Kyros just find a new vessel?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Sumire admitted, looking towards the sky. ¡°But I think that greatsword¡ªthat crystal¡ªis what is enabling Kyros to fully take him over. It¡¯s the forbidden magic that was locked on those islands. Outlawed magic, as agreed upon by the full pantheon¡ªto completely take over the body of a mortal and steer the course of human history. If we get the greatsword away from him, I think we can sever that connection.¡± ¡°Okay,¡± Momo said. She grabbed Sumire¡¯s hand and looked towards the dome. Jarva was raring to strike again. ¡°Whatever happens, we see it through together, right?¡± Sumire smiled at her. ¡°So formal. Are these our vows?¡± Momo blushed. Sumire nudged her shoulder into hers. ¡°Kidding,¡± she said, bracing herself. ¡°Let¡¯s do this.¡± 221 – Excalibur With a second blow from Jarva¡¯s sword, the [Great Wall of Nether] crumbled like an egg shell. Momo observed the unfolding spectacle with a blend of horror and fascination. The barrier¡¯s immense structure initially splintered into large, distinct plates before becoming infested with smaller, root-like fissures. The fissures spread like a disease¡ªmultiplying and multiplying¡ªuntil the barrier reached its breaking point, shattering into countless fragments of obsidian. ¡°Wow,¡± Momo said, glancing upward. It was the only word that came to mind. The fragments fell over her like snowflakes. She caught a bundle of them in the palm of her hand, and she saw her own reflection in the filmy, gauzy blackness¡ªher white hair, braided in sections by Sumire, falling lazily over her shoulders, her horns, sharp and darkly red. She looked like a creature from another realm. A monster she would have been scared to find in her closet. Odder still, she had never felt more like herself. It felt as if¡ªeven on Earth, left to her own devices¡ªshe would have inevitably grown into this thing that¡¯d she become. She would have dressed in cosplay and paraded around an anime convention in horrendously sewn-on horns and a ratty cape, her hair the victim of a horrific, 2am dye job. It was hard to imagine herself that brave, but a part of her believed it. She looked towards the ground, towards the couriers littering it. Dozens of sheets of wrinkled paper splayed on shattered pavement. A question formed hazily in her head. If she was a monster now, what would she become next? ¡°I¡¯m going to level up. It¡¯s the only way I¡¯ll be able to be on equal footing with him,¡± Momo said to Sumire. ¡°Can you cover me? Keep an eye on Jarva? I¡¯ll try to make it snappy.¡± ¡°Of course, Mo.¡± Sumire motioned to the others to start moving. Viktor was shoving the Chickenductor back towards the church; Grimli was singing some dwarvish diddy, a war song that carried stat benefits to his surrounding team members. Nyk was standing there in a performatively apathetic way, but every so often her eyes would snap to Momo protectively. Momo knelt down on the ground and reached for a courier¡ªany courier, really¡ªas she knew that it wouldn¡¯t matter which one she chose. They operated like a hivemind. Whichever one she plucked from the ground first would morph into the one she needed to see. These couriers are truly fascinating organisms. Whenever she finally traveled to the Nether again, she hoped to find the place that they came from, their home¡ªa brooding nest of paper, she imagined, a giant fax machine. She picked up one of the couriers, and the others immediately caught wind. They swirled in the air like a tornado before filing in a neat line behind the first. A staple made of Nether materialized, clamping the pages together and allowing Momo to quickly breeze through them. The first four were level ups for Excalibur, including one or two evolved skills, but she didn¡¯t take the time to review them. She could get to that later. What she needed to do was to get the important part quickly¡ªwhile Jarva was recharging his strength.
Congratulations! For obliterating an entire septet of Excaliburs in one electrifying move, you have reached level 10 in Nether Dokkaebi. This is the [Expert] level cap. While you can continue earning skills outside this class, you cannot learn anymore skills from [Nether Dokkaebi]. Based on your attributes and previous actions, you can choose to evolve this class into one of the following [Excalibur] classes:
Momo¡¯s eyes glazed over as she read the first three options. Holy shit. Tears sprouted beneath her eyes. I finally made it. You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
[Necromage]: The Necromage is a spellcaster who wields an unsettling fusion of elemental and necromantic magic. They twist the forces of earth, water, fire, and air into tools of decay and destruction. With a touch of darkness, they turn water to poison, fire to unholy flames, and a cemetery into a field of venomous warriors. These sorcerers maintain a tenebrous connection to the natural world and corrupt it with their eerie mastery, causing widespread devastation and chaos with each incantation. [Necropriest]: The Necropriest wields the most macabre of dark arts to breathe life into grotesque abominations, bound by chains of ethereal souls. They are sinister artisans who have mastered the forbidden craft of stitching together body parts from various creatures, implanting stolen souls, and animating these creations with unholy energy. With a mastery of necromancy and a mad scientist''s zeal, they forge nightmarish, Frankenstein-like monstrosities that serve as loyal and formidable companions. [Necroknight]: The Necroknight is a relentless warrior who has struck a sinister covenant with death itself. Wearing armor infused with the power of the abyss, they drain the life force of their foes with each swing of their wicked weapon. Unyielding in combat, these unholy knights wield the power to manipulate the deceased and inhabit their corpses as extensions of their own will. They are skilled in the art of necromancy, but their focus lies in a peculiar and unsettling ability to extend their fighting prowess by inhabiting hundreds of lifeless vessels.
Valerica. Sera. Azrael. It was mind boggling to see them reduced to class descriptions. Momo knew reaching Excalibur was different from any other class rank in one very crucial way¡ªthe Excalibur classes had been made for the individuals who wore those titles. There was no Necromage before there was Valerica. No Necropriest before Sera¡¯s salacious soulcrafting. To don these titles would be to take on someone else¡¯s dusty mantle. To step into their wrinkled hand-me-down shoes. Momo¡¯s eyes floated to the end of the page. The options seemed to end at Necroknight. Is that it? There was another page stapled to the back of this one. The possibility of more. She toyed with the edge of the parchment, but her breath wobbled anxiously in her throat. Whatever class¡ªor classes¡ªlay beyond this page would be unlike any she¡¯d gotten before. They would be classes that Morgana, or rather, Morgana¡¯s System, had specifically generated to fit Momo, and no one but Momo. Completely unique profiles; specialized. Oddly enough, the very thought of it was paralyzing. She had spent so much of her life craving that very thing: for someone else to define her; for a teacher, a friend, a charismatic cult leader to pick her up, shake her around, and tell her: you¡¯re this. This is who you are. But now that it was here¡ªthat golden, shining moment where self-determinism could finally be tossed to the wayside¡ªshe felt something odd. A burning, hissing sensation in the back of her throat. She had been happy enough to let the System label her before¡ªto call her a necromancer, a corrupted druid, a goblin, a fearsome beast¡ªand in part, she was grateful for it. It had challenged her own self-perceptions. Made her feel large where before she had only ever felt small, inconsequential, an eroded pebble in a sea of mighty, self-motivated stones. But something had shifted. For the first time, going into this process, she didn¡¯t want her circumstances to decide for her. She didn¡¯t want to be satisfied rummaging around in someone else¡¯s closet, picking from their hand-me-downs. She wanted to forge her own path, whatever that looked like. Something that she could be proud of. Taking a breath in, she turned the page.
Based on your attributes and actions, the System has generated the following choices for you. Warning: Only some of these classes have been approved by Morgana to be feasible for one entering the Circle of the Lich. Due to the rules of the System, Morgana cannot forbid you from choosing certain classes once generated, but your choice might have ramifications for your future alignment with the Gods. Warning: If you are to choose one of the new Excalibur classes listed below, that class will be available to all necromancers who rise to Excalibur, and subsequent Novice, Adept, and Expert tiers of this class will be created. Due to this, choosing a new Excalibur class is a much more monumental choice than you have been given before, as it has ramifications for all others in the System. You will be providing for those below you with a blueprint¡ªa path¡ªthat they can follow, just as the Necromage, Necropriest, and Necroknight have done before you.
Momo swallowed. As she suspected¡ªthis was bigger than just her now. She was in a position to do what Valerica had done before her. Her choice could be the blueprint for her own Morgana¡¯s Dawn; her own legion of naive and bitterly loyal students following in her footsteps. The idea seemed insane to her. Her path to this point had been hilarious, haphazard, insane, ridiculous. She was in no position to be a teacher, a trailblazer. She was just Momo. ¡°Momo,¡± Sumire shouted out, crashing straight into her inner monologue. ¡°Not to rush you, but I don¡¯t think we have much longer.¡± Momo followed Sumire¡¯s finger towards the sky. Jarva¡¯s sword was back in the air. Crap. Crap. Crap. Okay. She turned the page. 222 – Excalibur: Choices The page turned to reveal a piece of parchment that was different from any Momo had seen before¡ªit was colored a shining gold, like a glittering piece of fine jewelry. The edges of it were embroidered in Morgana¡¯s signature undead koi fish. It had the texture of gold leaf. She rubbed her thumb along it in awe, watching as the class options materialized under her fingers.
[Nether Demon (Purified Variant)]: When Morgana and Kyros first thrust mortalkind into existence¡ªin that benevolent, naive moment of creation¡ªa portion of universal waste matter, a forgotten, shadow-lurking creature, was accidentally shunned away, disregarded, and forced to become the barely-lucid being we know now as the Nether Demon; the universal force of destruction. The Demon prowls and devours the Nether, eating away at the delicate fiber of the universe, ushering in Oblivion Events, and haunting replicant areas, interminably scaring souls into submission. The wholesome variant of this Demon¡ªthe Purified Variant, specifically created for you, and existing nowhere else in the realm¡ªwould be an inverse force; this class would harness the powers of the Demon to repair and nurture souls, replicant areas, entire swaths of land and nature, and guide wayward souls. This class also has the potential to ascend into the Lesser Goddess type: Anima.
Unlike any class option she¡¯d received in the past, this one came with an attached drawing which animated when she drew her fingers across it. It showed a version of her before the transformation, and a version after; the class would give her the ability to shroud herself in darkness, travel as light as a cloud, and turn her dokkaebi horns into giant taloned-claws. This was clearly a step forward in the monster evolution path she had begun with her Expert class. But¡­ Nether Demon? She had heard of the Nether Demon before¡ªspecifically in regards to her ever-useful skill [Eye of the Nether Demon]¡ªbut she didn¡¯t know that the beast was specifically connected to the Oblivion Event. That this thing inadvertently caused the universe to nearly crumble. She had assumed it had simply been Kyros¡¯s negligence, but it seemed that there was another party involved entirely. Something neither side had alluded to before, except in fearful whispers. The skillset itself seemed imminently useful, especially given her circumstances. If this class really was the inverse to the Nether Demon, then Momo could probably use its healing prowess to undo the damage done to the souls in the Wraith Box¡ªand counter any other future Sera creations. It¡¯d be both circumstantially beneficial, but also morally beneficial; while she wasn¡¯t too happy about evolving into something called a demon, she did like the wholesome part. It was nice to be recognized as nice for once. (A nice demon, but, okay, whatever. Semantics were for people in less apocalyptically dire situations.) Then there was the matter of that last line. The Lesser Goddess type. She realized in that moment that she had never exactly asked Valerica what being a Lesser Goddess entailed, outside an intense session of onboarding and excessive reading. Of course, Momo herself had been the one to connect the two Systems¡ªthe God System and the mortal Class System¡ªby using the Oblivion Stone, but she didn¡¯t actually know how the God System operated. For all she knew, it was nothing like the Class System. No levels, no experience, no quests. Nada. For one, she had never heard of a class type before, and when she had ranked up previously, it would never tell her the name of the next class in the sequence. So that was odd, too. Momo began to sweat, the weight of the choice befalling her. Jarva¡¯s artificial sun beat down on her back like a whip; his choking presence strangled her into a tighter chokehold. She had to decide both quickly, intelligently and in a way that honored her own new-found sense of self. God¡ªself-respect, what an exhausting and troublesome thing to have. It was so much work actually caring about the choices you made. On top of that¡ªhow am I supposed to make a decision when I don¡¯t know what a Lesser Goddess type is? I feel like I¡¯m taking an open note test but without any notes. And the proctor is a feral octopus who¡¯s trying to kill me. She tossed her internal battle aside for the moment and looked at the next choice. There were only a few left on the page, but each of them occupied a large span of the parchment due to the large accompanying illustrations. The next option had a drawing of a woman¡ªMomo, but taller, broader, and with a third eye scrawled into her forehead; she had her hands spread out, mystical blue energy emanating from her palms. This was the Chaostheurge. The illustration alone imbued her with a sense of dread.
[Chaostheurge]: How does the saying go? When the butterfly flaps its wings¡­ The Chaostheurge is a master of the Butterfly Effect. They have an innate ability to glimpse into multiple timelines¡ªto see what futures will unfold due to small, inconsequential actions¡ªand intertwine that foresight into their attacks. They can also rewind time for their victims, using a special variety of necromancy that causes corpses to turn back into their fully mortal forms for a brief period of time. The downside of this class is also its upside: seeing small glimpses of the future provides as much clarity as it does confusion, and as much power as it does madness. However, with training, your power¡ªand your sanity¡ªcan be honed and protected. This class also has the potential to ascend into the Lesser Goddess type: Tempus.
Momo watched as the illustration¡¯s third eye opened wide, revealing a scene of destruction in Morganium; a scene quite like the one in front of her, only Jarva levitated just above of her corpse, reigning supreme over her dead body. She swallowed thickly. What the hell? Was this supposed to be a glimpse into the future¡ªa preview of the power this class offered? No. It had to be some kind of party trick. Nothing was certain until she selected the choice herself. Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. And either way¡ªthe power to see the future? No thank you. The suggestion seemed almost comical. She¡¯d seen enough bad television about detectives with foresight to know divination was a burden as big as a freight truck. Her sanity was already a fragile thing as it was. She didn¡¯t want to risk it, even for the potentially seismic payoff. Next. The third option was the closest any of the options came to resembling her current self. The attached illustration depicted her in a field of flowers, wearing a smock and wielding a paint brush. Only, when she swept the paint brush across the canvas, the world around her changed; wild red flowers turned into demonic, fanged creatures; another sweep, and those creatures turned to harmless geese, running about and honking.
[Void Artist]: The Void Artist is a master of otherworldly creation, capable of painting eldritch abominations into existence using the very fabric of reality as a paint swatch. This auteur can conjure replicant areas¡ªNether worlds that mirror the properties of other universes¡ªwith the stroke of a brush, or a mere thought. They are creators of both beauty and horror, harnessing the chaotic energies of the void to alter the medium of the universe. This class also has the potential to ascend into the Lesser Goddess type: Artifex.
This one intrigued her. She¡¯d hardly had any time to paint since she arrived in Alois. But, every time she did, it was as if she was momentarily transported; it quieted her mental tremors, the hurried, chaotic thoughts that plagued her consciousness like hornets; it was the only way she could really connect with her inner self. Always had been, ever since she was little¡ªand even now, in the most foreign of places under the most insane of circumstances. The idea of painting things¡ªpeople, animals, flora, fauna¡ªfrom other universes into existence seemed both fascinating and terrifying; what if she accidentally manifested something terrible due to an amateurish flick of the wrist? What if she wasn¡¯t good enough to create what she really wanted? What if her lack of talent prevented her from reaching her true potential? It¡¯s art school all over again. The mere thought of it made her nauseous. There were two more options on the page. Sumire hurriedly squeezed her shoulder. ¡°Please choose quicker,¡± she urged her. ¡°I¡¯m trying!¡± Momo squeaked.
[Voidbound Beastlord]: Able to weave Nether into the very essence of beasts, the Voidbound Beastlord creates spectral creatures that are both terrifying and fiercely loyal. This class combines mortal animals with the soul chains of the deceased to create creatures that are not entirely alive or dead¡ªbut powerful beyond measure. This class also has the potential to ascend into the Lesser Goddess type: Fera.
Momo frowned deeply at the description. This one sounds like animal abuse. Next. She took a breath in, and hovered her hand over the last remaining option. The illustration sent chills down her arms. Again it was her depicted on the page. Well, an approximation of her, in thick strokes of oil paint. Only this time her form changed every time she pressed her thumb on the image. First she was herself, then she was the dokkaebi; then a bird, then an imp, a lion, a human man, an elderly woman, an orc, a high-sea sailor, a bearded elf; then, scariest of all, the image landed on¡­ Sera. She was a perfect impersonation. The same eerie visage that she saw hanging from that man¡¯s walls back in the Vagrant Dunes. A polymorpher? But why is that special? Teddy can do that already. He pretended to be me flawlessly for like half a year. The class description quickly put her questions to rest.
[Voidshifter]: Beyond being the perfect physical polymorph, the Voidshifter is able to perfectly mimic the spells and magical attunements of the person, animal, or creature she is inhabiting. Limited only by one¡¯s Mana and their morals, the Voidshifter performs a very special kind of necromancy¡ªthe temporary intertwinement of two soul chains¡ªin order to be, or become, anyone or anything. Of course, the longer the Voidshifter keeps these two soul chains intertwined, the more they corrode and merge, slowly combining until they become one. This class also has the potential to ascend into the Lesser Goddess type: Silentium.
Oh my god. This class¡ªif used responsibly, and relinquished on time¡ªwas quite possibly the most powerful one Momo had encountered. It went beyond simple imitation. This was the kind of power children dreamed of, with their Halloween costumes on, parading down the street, ratty white ghost capes dragging in the mud, superwoman costumes pinching at the knees. Assuming she could intertwine any soul chain with her own, there was no villain she couldn¡¯t defeat. Using their own powers against them, no less. But at the same time, it presented a lot of questions. Could the other person¡¯s soul chain overpower her own? What happened to an enemy she was intertwining with? Could they still continue to fight her even when they were connected? Could she feel their pain as her own? How long was too long to stay intertwined for? What¡ª ¡°Momo!¡± Sumire yelled. ¡°We¡¯re out of time!¡± A white halo of light had appeared in the sky, like a nuclear mushroom cloud. She was out of time. 222.5 – Welcome to the Circle of the Lich
Choice registered.
Welcome to the Circle of the Lich.
¡ª ¡°Momo?¡± Sumire shouted. ¡°Momo?¡± Where did she go? Sumire strained her neck upwards. Above her was a sky full of blinding light, an endless expanse of blank, milky whiteness, like the headlights of an oncoming car. The wind, too, was frightful; it blew her hair back in fierceful gusts. She struggled to keep her feet on the ground. The others felt it too. Viktor clutched Baryte in his arms and held desperately to the machine, Grimli¡ªwho had been busy singing, as one does to fend off the apocalypse¡ªswallowed large gusts of air down his esophagus, causing him to cough and hiss like an engine. But the wind was not the only sound barreling her eardrums. The clicking of heels resounded from all around, ticking like beats of a metronome. Casting [Eyes of Light], Sumire¡¯s pupils turned translucent¡ªallowing her to see through Jarva¡¯s blinding sun rays. What was revealed to her was hundreds of men and women, draped in yellow and purple armor, walking in clockwork unison towards the central plaza. They brandished the flag of Kyros above them. Sumire recognized that formation. That insignia. These were knights¡ªknights of the Holy Resistance¡ªwho had been laying in wait outside the city. But there was something unusual about them. Their eyes looked dead, muted; their movements were robotic. She squinted, and became disgusted at what she found: tentacles, spindly and purple, were rooted in their backs. They had become nothing but brainwormed puppets. Completed robbed of agency. The sight flipped a switch in Sumire. It turned simmering, stove-top anger into molten lava. ¡°You absolute sicko!¡± she screamed at Jarva. But it wasn''t really him she was yelling at it. It was the god lurking inside his skull, piloting from afar. Anger simply bubbled out of her. ¡°I don¡¯t care if it''s blasphemous. You¡¯re a disgusting piece of a shit. A poor excuse for a god. Nothing more than Morgana¡¯s scraggly, good-for-nothing barn cat. And I¡¯ll have you know¡ª¡± ¡°Silence,¡± Jarva bellowed, his voice coming from everywhere and nowhere. ¡°Aren¡¯t you a Holy Knight? You should know the rules of the covenant. Rule one. Do not speak ill of the master." He paused. "Punishment for violation? Death.¡± His single working tentacle shot straight down from the clouds, extending like a neverending, murderous rope. It was as quick as a whip, its speed making it almost imperceivable. Finding her within seconds, it struck to kill. It nearly succeeded¡ªnearly bisected her neck from her torso. But something intervened; something black, and feathery, and cold. ¡°Don¡¯t touch her.¡± Sumire could see it clearly now¡ªthe thing that had come between her and imminent death¡ªit was a giant wing, bristling with sharp black feathers. The tentacle had struck the wing and immediately recoiled, as if it had touched a live wire. ¡°Are you okay?¡± a faint voice asked. Sumire could barely hear anything over the blood pounding in her ears. She had tasted death many times before, but never so hotly. ¡°Sumire? It¡¯s me. Come on. You can still recognize me. Right? Right? Okay, now you¡¯re just making me nervous. I know, first it was the horns, now wings, but I made the System promise it wouldn¡¯t mess with my face. And look, I can do this.¡± The wing receded. In its place was Momo, looking spectacularly like herself: blushing cheeks, bowed head, anxious frown. She was wearing different clothes now: black, silk chiffon robes that fell languidly over her legs, pinching at the waist. A large hair clip with Morgana¡¯s insignia¡ªthree circling dead koi fish¡ªwas entwined in her white hair. A silver rapier sat on her right hip, and both her hands were stained oily, Nether black. ¡°What class did you¡­?¡± Sumire started, her pupils dilating. ¡°Nether Demon,¡± Momo said, shrugging modestly. ¡°Well, the purified, I¡¯m-actually-a-decent-person-instead-of-a-world-ending-monster edition. Hence the angel getup.¡± She spread her wings to their full wingspan. ¡°For a long few seconds, I thought I was going to pick Void Artist, but then I realized I¡¯d only be doing it because of who I used to be, you know? Art was the only thing I had back on Earth¡ªthe only thing that felt like myself¡ªbut that¡¯s not true anymore, is it? I¡¯m a lot more than that now. At least I want to be.¡± She looked down bashfully, her cheeks coloring. Sumire rarely heard Momo talk about herself so frankly. ¡°I want to be someone who protects people,¡± she continued. ¡°God, that sounds so stupid. I don¡¯t know. It¡¯s just that, when I first arrived here, when I first got my necromancer powers, I had this dream of having a little farm of undead animals¡ªcats, dogs, cows. I think I want the same thing now, only bigger. All-encompassing. A pasture for all the wayward souls and bony cats and awkward little people. I want everyone to feel safe and loved and important. Believed in. The way this world made me feel believed in.¡± Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. As Momo spoke, something strange happened amongst the encroaching soldiers. Their steps had halted. Confusion, terror, bewilderment overtook their features. In Momo¡¯s ear, a little voice informed her of the phenomenon. The message kept repeating itself over and over.
[Aura of Utter Bewilderment] has stunned Holy Knight #1, Holy Knight #2¡­. Holy Knight #423 for 5s.
[Aura of Utter Bewilderment] has stunned Holy Knight #1, Holy Knight #2¡­. Holy Knight #423 for 5s.
[Aura of Utter Bewilderment] has stunned Holy Knight #1, Holy Knight #2¡­. Holy Knight #423 for 5s.
Momo grimaced. It was that damn skill she got from Zephyra. It stunned anyone with a low Intelligence score for five seconds. Apparently, it worked in a way that if she continued speaking, it would reset itself. It was obvious in the way that the knights would stare blankly, then move an inch, then freeze and stare blankly again. ¡°Okay, enough about me,¡± Momo said, turning on her heel to face the mob. She flourished her rapier, and it gleamed in the harsh light. ¡°How should we deal with these guys? I could easily wipe them out, especially while they¡¯re stunned, but I don¡¯t just want to kill them outright. They haven¡¯t even done anything yet.¡± ¡°Sever the tentacles.¡± ¡°The what?¡± Sumire gestured to the tentacles protruding from their backs. ¡°Chop them off. From what I know about how Jarva¡¯s mind-control magic works, severing the connection will cause them to regain self-control. They¡¯ll be really dazed once that happens, though, in a total stupor. It¡¯ll put us in a good position to knock them out while you deal with the big guy upstairs.¡± Momo nodded towards her. ¡°Got it, captain.¡± ¡°What are you buffoons doing?¡± Jarva bellowed at his paralyzed troops. He was nursing his tentacle, recovering from the sharp cut it on got Momo''s wing. ¡°Serve your lord¡ªyour eternal master¡ªor I will turn you into more than mindless husks!¡± Momo began to stalk towards the mindless mob. ¡°Listen to me,¡± she said, then talked continuously as she walked, making sure to keep them stunned. Judging by what her System had said, there were four hundred and twenty three of the knights. This sheer volume of enemies¡ªeven stunned as they were¡ªwould have been a problem for her five minutes ago. But now¡­ She smiled widely. ¡°System, review my new blade skill. Audio courier only, please.¡±
[Infinite Blade of the Nether Demon]: Use the Nether to extend your rapier¡¯s blade infinitely in one direction. The blade will maintain the same sharpness as your rapier, so if your rapier is dull, then so will be the Nether blade, and vice versa.
She grazed her finger along the length of the lithe blade. Her fingers¡ªnow dark with Nether and flickering, almost holographically¡ªdidn¡¯t bleed, but only because that part of her was no longer human. She knew the blade was impossibly sharp. There would be no problem cutting a little bit of calamari. ¡°Get her!¡± Jarva screamed. ¡°Do something, you weaklings!¡± Using her new [Shroud Form] ability, Momo became a cloud of black. Moving like water vapor, she infiltrated the knights¡¯ ranks with ease. They were organized in a phalanx, with a narrow hallway of space between each rank, giving Momo just the room she needed. Flitting out of her cloud form, she brandished her rapier dead ahead, aiming for the squirming extremities sticking out of their armored backs. She squinted, locking on. There could be no room for error, or else they¡¯d all die in an instant. ¡°[Infinite Blade of the Nether Demon],¡± she whispered. The blade shot out like black lightning. It passed each knight in milliseconds, vaporizing the tendrils. As soon as the tentacle left the knight, sentience washed over them; their eyes bugged large, their mouths dragged open. Some immediately fell to their knees; others just stood there, blinking and drooling. Jarva wailed, feeling the instant loss of connection. ¡°Useless¡ªuseless!¡± Momo catapulted through the crowd, repeating the attack over and over. By continually babbling out loud, she was able to keep the knights perfectly stunned, inanimate. She worked with a surgeon¡¯s accuracy as she freed them from their puppet strings, lining up the blade just right so as not to sever anything but seafood. For the knights that were a little bit out of sequence¡ªand at risk of getting shivved¡ªshe cut them down manually; with the liquid speed of her [Shroud Form], she could practically teleport through the battlefield, her body transforming into flashes of black, gray, and gleaming white. As she sliced away their slave collars, a question began to form in Momo¡¯s head. An inconsistency. If these are the knights of the Holy Resistance, where are their leaders? Where¡¯s Nia, Komodo, Trent? I know Sera and Kyros are working together, although it seems that Kyros decided to go rogue in the end¡ªbut just how rogue? Did he dispose of the leaders and take the knights? The thought caused a shiver to run down her spine. As much as she didn¡¯t like Nia, she didn¡¯t want to imagine what Kyros would have done with her. And poor Vivienne, if she found out¡­ ¡°Mo, I think his Mana is full up again!¡± Sumire shouted out. The crew¡ªGrimli, Nyk and the rest¡ªhad begun to use their respective skills to knock the dazed knights out cold. Up above, Jarva had his greatsword raised once more. White light was bubbling around the handle. ¡°Leave the rest to us, okay? None of this will matter if he decimates us in one go.¡± Momo flashed her a look of concern. ¡°You sure? But if the knights come out of their daze¡ª¡± ¡°Go!¡± Momo nodded, chastised. Sumire wasn¡¯t just her girlfriend, after all. She was her Military Advisor. Her strategist. When she said go¡ªMomo went. She took a breath in, flourished her wings, and launched off the pavement. 223 - Clarity With the help of her new wings, it took Momo mere seconds to reach Jarva. He was no longer a blightful dot in the sky but something real, tangible¡ªhis malignant red pupils locked onto her own; his singular tentacle desperately gripped the hilt of his greatsword. She was so close she could see the wrinkles and folds in his leathery purple skin, the beads of sweat on his rounded forehead. Losing his Excaliburs had clearly taken a physical toll on him. ¡°Hello,¡± Momo greeted, because no matter the scenario, she always made time for pleasantries. He looked at her in utter disgust. ¡°This feels overdue, doesn¡¯t it?¡± It appeared Jarva did not, in fact, share her opinion on small talk. ¡°The only thing overdue here is your demise.¡± He flung his greatsword forward. She ducked out of the way, and a ray of excruciating light passed her flank. While the strike itself missed her by a hair, the emanating heat of the sunray was nearly unbearable. She could feel an invisible sunburn forming like a bruise under her clothes. The kind that would peel away to reveal bone. She applied [Focus] once more, just to keep herself from screaming. This was not your grandmother¡¯s greatsword. Every swing of the beast threatened more than just a flesh wound. It threatened total incineration. With her and Jarva¡¯s power now equally matched, it simply became a game of attrition; who could wear down the other the fastest. She¡¯d have to be careful and¡ªmore importantly¡ªfast. Unfortunately, she didn¡¯t want to just kill him outright. She wanted answers. And she had enough questions to weigh down a freight train. ¡°While you¡¯re trying to kill me, can you at least tell me this: why is Kyros working with Sera? With a disciple of his sworn enemy? And why did the entire pantheon betray Morgana at the drop of a hat?¡± Momo asked, readying herself to dodge once more. Luckily for her, Jarva¡¯s feeble mortal body¡ªand subsequently, his lackluster Mana resources¡ªwere vastly underdeveloped compared to the godly power at his disposal. He had to recharge for several seconds between every attack, breathing heavily. To her surprise, between labored breaths, he answered her. ¡°A better question: why wouldn¡¯t they betray her? Who would stay loyal to such a vile creature?¡± he spat, his chest heaving. ¡°Morgana gave them life¡ªher only real kindness¡ªbut then immediately took away their agency. Robbed them of their self-determinism. She forced them to pick from a paltry sum of pathetic domains: crime, fire, water, seasons. It is disrespectful to the very condition of existence to be restrained in such a way. She claimed they were equals, but then treated them as one would treat a servant asking to sleep in the chambers of the queen. Unworthy. Unknowledgeable. Incapable of rising above their rank.¡± His pupils dilated to fill the entirety of his blood red eyeballs. ¡°Sera, unlike her peers, is a smart woman,¡± he said. ¡°She understands this inequality, and shares my master¡¯s aspirations of ending it. Aspirations we will make real upon your death.¡± Momo stared at him blankly. His entire proposition sounded completely insane. Freedom? Took away their agency? He made it sound like Morgana was some kind of kidnapper. The type of woman to keep her children in the basement and throw them kitchen scraps. It was a complete inversion of events. ¡°And what kind of aspirations would those be?¡± she asked, morbid curiosity overpowering her. ¡°What happens when you kill me?¡± ¡°The Wraith Box will activate, and all of mortalkind will be vacuumed up, sealed, and then redistributed. Redistributed equally amongst all of the gods. There will no longer be any such thing as domains. No goddess of the seasons, or god of crime, or anything so ridiculous. Each god will be given a portion of mortals to oversee, and their power would be absolute, limitless, all-encompassing, as long as they play within their allotted section.¡± This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. Momo¡¯s jaw dropped. To say she was in disbelief would be a horrifying understatement. ¡°That¡¯s what the gods want? To each have their own¡­ mortal petting zoo?¡± ¡°You act shocked, as if this isn¡¯t the universal truth of life as Morgana made it. She created the other gods and mankind for the exact purpose of ruling over them. Dictatorship was the very blueprint of this universe. It is only natural for the captive to rebel against the captor, and for the cycle to repeat. In the same way that you believe it is right and just to overthrow my dictatorship, it is right and just that we overthrow hers, no?¡± ¡°That¡¯s bullshit, and you know it.¡± Momo¡¯s hand fluttered, and her rapier materialized at his throat. ¡°Kyros and Morgana were equal partners. I saw it with my own eyes. She made one rule for the universe, then Kyros another. I was there, at the museum, I watched it unfold. Even if you¡¯re right¡ªeven if the universe is fucked up and in need of a few repairs¡ªany conditions that led to this sad state of affairs is as much his fault as hers.¡± Jarva gradually levitated upwards. Tilting his chin ever so slowly, he found her eyes again. An icy, apathetic chill had fallen over his features. Momo became suddenly uneasy. In her experience, tranquility was always much more frightening than anger. ¡°Is that true? Did you really watch it happen? Really?¡± he said slowly. ¡°No. You did not. In fact, I can tell you what you saw. You saw the beginning. You saw the game being set. You did not see them play the game of Creation. You don¡¯t even know who went first. And in such a game, going first matters deeply. Whoever goes first gets an unfair advantage¡ªthey get to set the tone for the entire length of the play session. And in the game of Creation, the play session is eternal.¡± He swung his greatsword upwards, catching Momo off guard with the sudden movement. ¡°I am still playing the game,¡± he said. ¡°And I intend to win.¡± The greatsword came crashing down. She dodged as quickly as she could, but it wasn¡¯t fast enough. He was centimeters from slicing her arm clean off when she was struck with a flash of quick thinking. She thrust her hand straight towards the tip of the sword. ¡°[Rift Hands]!¡± Not realizing what she had done, Jarva propelled the sword forward into her hand. It disappeared straight through her Nether-painted palm. Momo grinned. In her evolution to Nether Demon, her hands had become completely inhuman, mere illusions of Nether which imitated fingers and tendons. Under normal circumstances, the blade would have just swerved through the palm and come out the other side, still blasting her to pieces in the aftershock. But [Rift Hands] was a Nether Demon skill which turned her hands into more than just illusions. It turned them, briefly, into portals to the Nether, swallowing up and teleporting anything that fell inside them. The greatsword and its sunbeam suffered this exact fate, thrust into the depths of the blank, dark afterlife. As soon as the blade was completely through, Momo disabled the skill, leaving Jarva to tug at a sword that was no longer in this plane of existence. He looked completely baffled. It wasn¡¯t even anger on his face, but distress. A child who had suddenly lost the guiding hand of a parent. ¡°Master, your voice, I can¡¯t hear it,¡± he mumbled deliriously. He wrenched his neck from side to side, searching, until finally his eyes landed upon Momo once more. ¡°You. You.¡± In a flash, he took his tentacle and wrapped it around Momo¡¯s throat, dragging her upwards. He clenched her windpipe unbelievably hard, with the strength of a maddened god, and Momo was reaching for her rapier when suddenly his grip went limp. His beady eyes faded from red to dull gray. It was as if a phantom had passed him through. Momo recalled Sumire¡¯s words. ¡°But I think that greatsword¡ªthat crystal¡ªis what is enabling Kyros to fully take him over. It¡¯s the forbidden magic that was locked on those islands. Outlawed magic, as agreed upon by the full pantheon¡ªto completely take over the body of a mortal and steer the course of human history. If we get the greatsword away from him, I think we can sever that connection.¡± Jarva, without Kyros¡¯s magic, was reduced yet again to a mere mortal. He had a disturbingly clear expression on his face. A wide-eyed clarity. ¡°My son,¡± he said, eyes enlarging. ¡°Where¡¯s my son?¡± He then began to plummet. 224 - Mercy ¡°My son,¡± he said, eyes enlarging. ¡°Where¡¯s my son?¡± ¡ª There was something about the way he said it, the soft way his voice curled around my son, that struck Momo¡¯s heart with a knife. God, empathy was a tricky devil. One Momo wrestled with like no other. So much so, that when she witnessed this tentacled monstrosity¡ªthe very summation of everything she had worked against¡ªplummet before her eyes, she still had the unfortunate impulse to save him. ¡°Oh, damn it.¡± She tucked her wings in and plunged towards him. He had a few seconds on her, but he wasn¡¯t very aerodynamic; his deadened tentacles whipped like streamers in the wind. The broken pavement reached to caress him, but Momo¡¯s arms were faster. She caught him in the bundle of her arms¡ªbridal style¡ªand landed like an earthquake, the pavement cracking under her feet. ¡°I broke the possession,¡± she said, breathing hard, then dropped Jarva onto the ground. Wasting no time, Sumire strode straight towards them, straddled Jarva on the ground where he lay, and caught him by the collar. ¡°You piece of shit,¡± she grunted, nearly frothing at the mouth. ¡°I¡¯ve been waiting for this day for a long time.¡± ¡°Sumire,¡± Momo said softly. ¡°Remember, he wasn¡¯t himself¡ª¡± The pirate craned her head towards Momo with an unyielding fury in her eyes. ¡°I did my fair share of time being under someone else¡¯s control. I know¡ªeven when you¡¯re completely submerged under their influence¡ªthere¡¯s always a part of you that remains cognizant. A part of you that is complacent. Complacent in the killing, in the torturing¡­ I could have fought against it, but I didn¡¯t. He could have, too.¡± Momo swallowed. ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s fair, Mire. You had your sister to protect.¡± Sumire reached for her cutlass, wrapping her fingers around the hilt before pressing the edge of the blade to his throat. ¡°What¡¯s his excuse, then?¡± Momo took a second to contemplate it. There was his son, of course, but caring about one¡¯s son doesn¡¯t exactly clear you of mass murder, dictatorship, and flagrant kidnapping, and she wasn¡¯t about to justify his actions to Sumire of all people. If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡°Honestly? I don¡¯t think he has a good one,¡± Momo mumbled. This did nothing to dissuade Sumire, who pressed the blade even harder against his purple flesh. ¡°But!¡± she interjected, throwing her hands up in the air. ¡°There¡¯s still so much information we need from him. If he¡¯s retained his memories from while he was possessed, there¡¯s quite possibly no other person on this planet¡ªor this plane of existence¡ªthat has more dirt on the pantheon, Kyros included. He might be essential to us winning the bigger war.¡± Momo squatted to Sumire¡¯s level, and gave her a soft, pleading smile. ¡°You have your sister back now, Mire,¡± she said plainly. A bid for mercy. ¡°Think like my Military Advisor. Your mind¡ªseven steps forward as it always is¡ªis the best asset we have. Don¡¯t waste an irreplaceable opportunity because of a bit of adrenaline.¡± Sumire¡¯s jaw clenched. Momo saw a glimmer of doubt cross her face. In the meantime, the sky opened wide. The giant dome of light, previously powered by Kyros¡¯s magic, shattered, unable to sustain itself any longer. Sera¡¯s barrage resumed instantly: ginormous hail, rain, thunder, and most critically, lightning, supercharged and radiating like the blaring lights of a football stadium. Momo¡¯s eyes immediately flew to Nyk. ¡°Cover us!¡± she pleaded. The dokkaebi obliged with a grunt, draping black over them once more. With her eyes closed in a migraine-like squint, Sumire finally came to a decision. ¡°Okay,¡± she said, rolling off Jarva. The octopus immediately took a sharp intake of air¡ªgrateful to be released from the threat of her blade. ¡°You¡¯re right. We¡¯ll get the information we need, and then leave the gods to deal with him.¡± Overjoyed, Momo wrapped her hands around the other woman, pulling her in for a tight embrace. ¡°Thank you,¡± she said, whispering into her ear. ¡°Nura would have wanted it this way.¡± Sumire said nothing, only hugging her tighter. ¡°Momo. Your¡ªuh¡ªis he supposed to be doing that?¡± Grimli¡¯s voice tugged her out of the intimate moment. She whipped her head around to find Jarva wordlessly limping out of Nyk¡¯s protective drape, his desensitized tentacles dragging along behind him. His entire manner was zombie-like: single-focused, lethargic. ¡°My boy,¡± he gurgled, his voice eerie and dreamlike. ¡°Are you out there in the streets? I told you to not walk amongst the peasantry¡ªthey are dirty and unseemly. You should be in your quarters, focused on your studies. Your father can only offer you so many bodies to drain of experience, and the supply runs low. The prisoner exchange in Nam¡¯Dal provided too little.¡± Momo disentangled herself from Sumire and paced towards him. She opened her wings with a flourish, preparing to dive, just as his head completely exited the drape. In that very same instance¡ªalmost as if the sky had been awaiting him patiently, vengefully¡ªlightning struck him like an iron boot. ¡°Oh my god.¡± Momo came to a screeching halt at the end of the drape, staring at nothing but a pile of ashes. ¡°When you said you wanted the gods to deal with him,¡± Grimli said. ¡°I didn¡¯t think you meant it so literally.¡± Momo turned to chastise him, but then she felt something quiver in the pocket of her robe. Her eyes widened in terror. 225 – A Piece of the Past Momo turned backwards to face her crew, dread dripping off her features. ¡°The mark,¡± she cried out. ¡°It wasn¡¯t me.¡± She furiously grasped for the box in her pocket, her fingers trembling. She could hear the horror before she could see it¡ªhundreds of souls calling out in agony, singing a chorus of death and destruction. The matchbox had finally found its match. Luckily, Momo had a plan. A last-ditch effort of a plan, but it was all that remained. Leaving no time for goodbyes, she raised her unoccupied hand, hovering it right above Jarva¡¯s ashes. The ruinous sky above her roared, as if Sera herself was cackling with sadistic joy. Momo briefly wondered if this was still part of Kyros¡¯s plan. Did he know Sera would sacrifice his subject? Had their entire battle been a ploy? Were he and Sera still working together, their hands intertwined around some devious conclusion? Momo¡¯s mind buzzed with overwhelming, nauseating contradictions. The box pulsed in her hand like a heartbeat. Intuition told her there were only several seconds left until combustion. ¡°[Rift Hands ¨C Create Portal]¡± She clawed into the air, ripping into the ether. It created a tear in reality; a six inch raggedy fissure which, once made, started to rapidly expand from its edges. She took a millisecond to regard what lay on the other side: a milky, infinite blackness, like the one she had floated in a few times before, awaiting Morgana¡¯s summons. The skill wasn¡¯t specific about what was on the other end. Momo was quite confident the ability was meant to be used like a trash disposal¡ªto fling enemies and waste into. She had thought of just throwing the Wraith Box in there and being done with it, but she couldn¡¯t; she had made a promise to herself. She wouldn¡¯t just give up on these trapped souls. She hugged the cube to her chest, and dove forward. ¡ª Time worked differently in the Nether. It was a fact Momo had learned in her brief stint with Morgana, and a principal she was betting her life on. Seeing as she was still all in one piece, and not stuck swimming amongst a feral school of soul chains, the principal had held true. She carefully peeled her cupped hands from her chest to reveal the box: stuck in stasis, paralyzed in a moment of time. She could still feel the faint hum of energy coming from its center, but the once hyperactive chemical reaction had slowed to a manageable crawl. Relieved, she looked around. As it turned out, there was not much to look at. Her surroundings were the color of death herself, black and purple and silvery, with the consistency of frothing milk. Momo was simply the latte art floating at the top of the fizzy glass. She got the sense that everything important lay beneath her, unseen. ¡°Valerica was wrong,¡± she whispered to herself, hearing her voice come back in echoes. The realization hit her like a wall of bricks; it was quite astounding. Momo had not been counting on just one principal, but two¡ªthat Valerica¡¯s assumption, that the device couldn¡¯t transit to the Nether without detonating, had been incorrect. Unlike Sera, Valerica held very little knowledge about soul chain metaphysics; it wasn''t like Momo knew much more¡ªshe probably couldn¡¯t have even spelled metaphysics with a gun to her head¡ªbut after her chat with Lione, the inconsistency became quite obvious. Valerica had thought any strong force would be enough to make the device go kaboom. But the fact was that this mark¡ªthe specific activating soul chain, which turned out to be Jarva himself¡ªwas the only thing that could cause the Wraith Box to activate. And once it was activated, as Lione explained, there was no further activating it; it simply set events into motion. Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. Momo hadn¡¯t been one hundred percent certain that this was true, which is why she hadn¡¯t tried it before, but the science of it was quite obvious now. Soul chains were designed explicitly to be able to pass through to the Nether. It was the very use of them. In the same way that Nyk had carried the device to Alois on that fateful day, Momo had simply returned it. (She had returned it in an altered, far more alarming state¡ªsurely¡ªbut what mattered was it was no longer a threat to her city, her friends, her queendom.) Unfortunately, Momo didn¡¯t have time to bask in the astounding moment that this was: that she had actually trusted her own intuition over Valerica¡¯s. There was still, after all, a death box to dismantle. She wasn¡¯t so stupid as to try doing that alone, though; since she had already made it to the Nether, it was worth tracking down Morgana, Valerica, really truly anyone, first. Momo had gained self-confidence, sure, but not enough to try and reverse engineer a nuclear bomb without a supervisor. Of course, there was the matter of finding them. Stuck with nothing but the endless darkness, a silly idea came to Momo to try. ¡°[Eyes of the Nether Demon],¡± she murmured, and watched as, almost instantly, the space came alight. White streamers of light danced around her vision, floating loosely and then finally congealing into shapes. She laughed. Of course. As she suspected, she was in a dump. Several rotting banana peels floated next to her face. The front half of a Toyota, with an eroding New Jersey license plate, was levitating a yard in front of her. That looks like my old Yaris, she thought, although the car was in such bad shape it was hard to tell. She tilted her head down, and saw an expanse of faint, glowing lights far, far below her, blinking like fireflies. The quality of everything was very fuzzy, like gazing into the watery surface of the ocean at midnight. When she squinted, it didn¡¯t really get better, or worse. But when she closed her eyes completely, a much weirder thing happened¡ªeverything came into crystal focus. It was as if her human eyes had been acting like cataracts to her real vision. ¡°That¡¯s so creepy.¡± With her eyes closed tight, she hovered over to the Toyota. It was a gray Yaris, the same color and make as her own, but with several long scratches along the doors. She knew that the chances it was actually hers were ridiculously slim, and that this wasn¡¯t a good time by any means, but she had gone on for so long without a trace of Earth, without a hint of her past life; it was impossible for her to just look away. I¡¯ll humor myself for just a second. When she tugged at the handle, the door peeled right off its hinges, revealing a beat-up seat cushion, four packs of Lucky Strike cigarettes, a plastic hula girl figurine on the dashboard, and a whole stack of neglected parking tickets stuffed in the passenger compartment. She took in a shaky breath. She had never smoked, and she certainly didn¡¯t own any hula girl figurines, but the parking tickets¡­ Pushing her hand roughly into the compartment, she extracted a handful of them, smoothing one out on her palm. It was a ticket for fifty dollars. Illegal parking on private campus property. She had received a countless number of these during her time in Albany. She had been too embarrassed to ask her parents for more money¡ªenough to cover the yearly parking spot¡ªso she had instead parked illegally in various places around campus, never the same one twice. ¡°It¡¯s a miracle I wasn¡¯t arrested,¡± she mumbled. She found, miraculously, that the keys were still in the ignition. If she had any remaining doubts about this car belonging to her, the keychain cleared them entirely; it was a small shrink plastic dumpling. ¡°For my Momo dumpling,¡± her dad had said, laughing at his own pun. ¡°Get it?¡± She clenched it hard in her hands. You can roll up in a ball and cry later. Not now. She removed the keychain from the ignition and left the rest of the car alone. She had plenty of questions¡ªwho had taken the car after she died, what kind of accident had they gotten in, was it serious, who in her family would ever buy Lucky Strikes, what was her Yaris doing floating around the Nether¡ªbut she stuffed them all down, promising herself she¡¯d get to them eventually, after she¡¯d done what she needed to do. She stuffed her keychain in her pouch next to Valerica¡¯s gifted Nether Nectar. Then, tucking in her wings and fixing her eyes towards the shimmering lights, she began to soar downwards. 226 – Code V As Momo descended, the dancing lights of the land of the dead began to congeal. What once looked like a festival of fireflies transformed into a bustling metropolis. She came upon it like a skydiver, bounding from above, until she finally swooped to a stop overhead. Spotting a familiar place, she laughed. It was a nail salon. A cheap, gaudy one with a faded neon sign. It sat just a few yards away from Momo, floating in what could best be described as a soap bubble. These bubbles seemed to indicate portals to different replicant areas¡ªlevitating next to the nail salon bubble was an Irish cliffside, then a little Norwegian bakery, and so on, and so forth. Gazing into each bubble was like looking through the glass of an elaborate snow globe. Inside each she could see people moving in slow motion, their languidly moving bodies mangled by the fish-eye lens effect of the orb. Very occasionally, a person would pop out of the bubble, float apathetically through the nothingness in between, and then land in another. Momo remembered what Nyk said about these places, that ¡°replicant areas are places in the Nether that look like other places. The Nether isn¡¯t really a place at all, it¡¯s just a collection of energy that has nowhere else to go. So when a lot of souls from the same place end up there, their combined memories tend to create a replicant area.¡± So, by Nyk¡¯s definition, the Nether was kind of like Los Angeles. She could find a Chinatown, a Little Saigon, a Little Tokyo, a Via Italia, a Koreatown, hell, there was probably even a Little Kalendale or a Nam¡¯Dal copy in here for all the late criminals and venison-sellers. The idea of hunting down someone from her hometown and grilling them on what happened to her, or her car, for that matter, was extremely tempting. Death Box first, she reminded herself, casting [Focus] and fluttering towards the nail salon. Finding out what happened to your food-poisoned corpse later. As soon as she touched the bubble, she was completely engulfed. Jerked inside with the violent force of a Santa Ana wind. It was like falling through a television screen; everything that seemed distant and far away was suddenly painfully, viscerally present. The smells, the sounds, the colors. Even if this was only a dead man¡¯s imitation, the streets certainly seemed alive; the maddening honking of horns, the clicking of heels and suitcases, the sputtering of jackhammers, the screaming men in bright orange construction vests. It was all there. Suddenly affected by gravity, she collapsed onto the dirty sidewalk, hundreds of pedestrians storming her by. She grimaced, instantly remembering why she wanted to get off Earth in the first place. It was just so¡­ much. Not that this was really indicative of Earth, exactly. This was clearly a clone of Manhattan. There were some obvious differences between the earthly version and this one¡ªnamely, all the species of Alois and beyond were represented here, with more pigeon-heads and rat-people mucking about than actual pigeons and rats. There were even some races that Momo had never seen before, like green-skinned giants with eighteen eyeballs, human-looking children with fish skin. Overwhelmed by the noise, even with the noise-canceling filter of [Focus], she shouldered her way into the nail salon. The door jingled, then flung behind her, taking several swings on its hinges before reaching equilibrium again. The cacophony of sound that was the city mellowed to a quiet, quickly replaced by a nondescript jazzy pop song sung in some nonsense language. ¡°You got an appointment?¡± A pigeon-headed lady with nails as long as pencils skewered her with a look. She was standing behind a counter and absentmindedly opening and closing the cash register. A nametag on her white blouse indicated that she was called Bunny. Odd name for a pigeon, she thought, but Momo had seen weirder things in New York. ¡°No,¡± she said quickly, keen to get to her pressing questions. ¡°Actually¡ª¡± A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. ¡°Let me stop you there. We¡¯re reservation only.¡± Momo stared at her, bemused. Her train of thought came to an abrupt stop. ¡°What kind of nail salon is reservation only?¡± she accidentally voiced aloud. Another strange thing about the Nether¡ªit was hard to keep one¡¯s thoughts in one¡¯s head. They tended to bubble up like boiling water. Devola had explained this phenomenon to her once, a long time ago when Momo was only half-listening; allegedly, the barrier between the subconscious and conscious melted away in the afterlife. The premise seemed horrific to Momo, whose main source of anxiety in life was mixing up the two. ¡°You new here or something?¡± Bunny scolded her, opening the register again; it made a maddening ka-ching sound each time. ¡°You need a reservation. And to get a reservation, you need to be a real big wig, I¡¯m talking mega money. We don¡¯t just do anyone¡¯s nails, you got it? This place serves goddesses. Nah, that ain¡¯t even true¡ªwe serve the goddess. One and only. So unless you¡¯re Morgana in a wig and a trench coat, we don¡¯t want your business.¡± Momo took it all back. The Nether really nailed New York. It had only been five minutes, and she already felt both stupid and poor. ¡°Actually,¡± Momo started, and Bunny immediately gave her a look that said if you don¡¯t turn around I¡¯m going to beat you with a broom, but she continued regardless. ¡°That¡¯s exactly who I¡¯m looking for. Morgana. My name¡¯s Momo, I work for her, I guess. She¡¯s like my boss. Or my boss¡¯s boss. Actually, if you¡¯ve seen Valerica, she¡¯d do fine, also.¡± At the mention of Valerica, every head in the salon turned to her. Bunny spoke lowly. ¡°What did you say?¡± ¡°...Valerica?¡± Momo said, suddenly feeling like the woman¡¯s name was some kind of slur. Hushed whispers overtook both the patrons and the nail artists. ¡°Get out,¡± Bunny insisted, reaching for the broom. ¡°I¡¯m warning you, if you bring up that name again,¡±¡ªshe winced, as if it was genuinely paining her¡ª¡°I¡¯m going to whack you all the way back to Nether Brushwick. Get out!¡± Momo waved her hands in front of her face, trying and failing to explain, but eventually she gave up; they thrust her back into the streets. She fell to the sidewalk just outside the store, holding her knees and looking out at the wide street in front of her¡ªat expensive red cars and lizard people and yellow buses¡ªwith a single thought racing around her mind. What the hell did Valerica do this time? Either way, she didn¡¯t have much time to dwell on it. If the people of the Nether were going to be of no help¡ªshe had to consult her second best option. She brought her bracelet to her mouth, and tapped the side of it three times as Zephyra had taught her. Faint elevator music played. Then, after about half a minute, an expectantly annoyed voice picked up on the other end. ¡°Hello?¡± Azrael said gruffly. ¡°This is a bad time.¡± ¡°Hi, sorry, it¡¯s just¡ª¡± He abruptly cut her off. ¡°Ah, see, I told you. It¡¯s only my delivery guy,¡± he said. It sounded like he had suddenly pressed the phone to his chest, muffling it, and there was a weird performative lilt to his voice. ¡°Just a moment, Sera. You really do need to learn some patience.¡± A heartbeat-stopping chill ran down Momo¡¯s spine. Sera? Had Azrael turned against Morgana too? No. That was stupid. He had been helping Momo at every turn, and Sera knew that. If she was there, it only meant trouble. ¡°Has ¡­ delivery man ¡­ her?¡± the other voice¡ªpresumably Sera¡ªsaid loudly, but her voice cut out at parts. The static noise in the transmission was loud, louder than it was before. Momo guessed that it was probably the interference of being in one of these replicant areas. ¡°What would the Pizza Hut delivery man, of all people, know about our dear runaway Momo?¡± Azrael laughed. ¡°Do you think he¡¯d find her in his stash of pepperoni?¡± ¡°He¡¯d know more than you ¡­ evidently, you useless, unkillable piece of ¡­¡± Momo¡¯s cheeks reddened. ¡°Sorry, darling,¡± Azrael whispered into the receiver. Something in his tone¡ªin the soft, sneaky way he said it¡ªmade it immediately clear that it was her he was speaking to. ¡°But I don¡¯t think I want pizza anymore. Lost my appetite. Why don¡¯t you drop it off with my dear friend Valerica? She¡¯ll be in Shibuya somewhere, I¡¯m sure. Dancing her heart out.¡± Momo heard a scream on the other end just as the line went cold. ¡°Shibuya?¡± Momo whispered. A taxi whooshed by, then a police car. As Momo sat in a daze with her newfound information, she failed to notice the lights in the surrounding buildings go dark. Police sirens came one after another¡ªa typical sound for New York, so she paid them no mind¡ªbut Momo eventually became alarmed as she noticed that they were encroaching around her. An entire circle of blue and white vehicles had encircled the nail salon. Confused, she turned to face the muggy window of the salon. Inside, she could see the faces of the nail artists staring straight back at her. Bunny was gesticulating at her wildly, mouthing that¡¯s her or something like that, but more derogatory. A man with no face¡ªjust a void, swirling and nocturne¡ªstepped out of the vehicle. He lifted a radio to his nonexistent mouth, and spoke. ¡°We¡¯ve got a code V.¡± 227 – The Viper ¡°A¡­ code V?¡± Momo''s jaw dropped in disbelief as an endless stream of Nether-policemen poured out of their vehicles. The city had plunged into total darkness, except for the vivid red headlights of the police cars, pulsating like concert spotlights, scanning up and down the vicinity. All of the once-frantic pedestrians had huddled away in shops or driven off down dusky streets. Sensing imminent danger, Momo tried to grab for the rapier at her hip, but found her hand immobile, stuck fast behind her back. She had failed to notice that the faceless policeman from before was already positioned behind her. He had cuffed her in an instant, the action so rapid and seamless that she hadn''t registered any sensation of pain. ¡°Soul number four billion three thousand and twenty six, Momo ¡®The Ripper¡¯ Lim, you are under arrest for violating Nether laws and regulations,¡± he informed her. His breath was cold and lifeless as it landed on the nape of her neck. She twisted to face him, writhing in her cuffs. ¡°What? Which rules and regulations?¡± One of the harsh red beams of light fell over her face, nearly blinding her. ¡°Special Code S3,¡± the officer answered, picking out a weapon from his belt that looked curiously like a lightsaber. It had a black hilt and it fizzed with a red energy as he struck the air near her cheek¡ªan obvious threat, but not one Momo was particularly frightened by. This was the Nether, after all. There was no safer place to die. It was like fainting in the Nurse''s Office. ¡°S3?¡± She repeated his words aloud. She had heard that letter-number pair only once before. Her Ruler System had informed her that, if she were to die, control of the continent would default to S3. She hadn¡¯t thought about it much since, given that she had managed, against all odds, to stay alive. But to hear it in these circumstances was curious. Did the S stand for Sera? It seemed likely that she¡¯d have her sticky, evil fingers involved in this. Confirming her suspicions, the officer replied, ¡°Sera¡¯s Three Stipulations.¡± But he didn¡¯t offer any more clarity than that. He made a motion to one of his fellow officers. Something that seemed a lot like come help me get this criminal in the back of the car. As inquisitive as Momo was at what exactly a Nether prison would be like¡ªor a Nether judicial system, for that matter¡ªthere was once again more pressing matters than entertaining her morbid curiosity. ¡°Wait. You have to tell me what exactly I¡¯m being charged with,¡± Momo interjected, suddenly remembering where she was. This place wasn¡¯t exactly New York, but she was quite certain that the police had to act like it was, to keep up appearances for the souls inhabiting it. ¡°It¡¯s the law.¡± The man froze, his not-quite-head turning annoyedly to face her again. ¡°That¡¯s not the law,¡± he said. His tone was sharp, but not completely assured. There was a weakness there; she could smell it. ¡°I don¡¯t have to tell you anything.¡± ¡°Yes it is, and yes you do,¡± she declared emphatically. The more she pressed on about it, the less sure she actually was that it was true¡ªit was safe to say Momo was not involved in much criminal activity during her time on Earth¡ªbut she was hopeful she could convince him of it either way. There was something about these replicant areas that forced a sort of method acting on their participants. ¡°You have to tell me what I¡¯m being charged with, and what all three of the stipulations are. Or else you¡¯d be a very bad police officer. A corrupt one, even.¡± Then, after making sure that last remark was heard loud and clear amongst the crowd, she murmured, ¡°[Sow Conspiracy]¡± under her breath. The Demagogue spell seemed to make an instant impact. The man¡¯s colleagues all looked at him stiffly, crossing their arms and whispering. Sensing this sudden mistrust, he looked frantically from body to body. Finding only judgment and suspicion waiting for him in the crowd, he reluctantly gave in to her demands. "You," he spat bitterly. "Have been found in violation of Code S3.2, the Anti-Terror Stipulation. Anyone who professes allegiance to an active threat against Nether society is liable to be swiftly detained. You, Momo Lim, stand accused of associating with a highly notorious threat to the safety of the Nether public. Enemy number one, otherwise known as V.¡± Momo couldn¡¯t help but laugh in surprise. She was positive Valerica was living for this. The sheer dramatics¡­ God. ¡°So, just to get this clear, I¡¯m being arrested for¡­ mentioning Valerica?¡± He bristled at the mention of her full name. ¡°You are being arrested for showing allegiance to an active Nether terrorist threat, yes,¡± he reiterated. ¡°Terrorist? What exactly is she terrorizing?¡± Besides me, Momo refrained from adding. Forever and always. ¡°Over the past several months, she has been cutting off several crucial routes of travel within the Nether. These disruptions have endangered soul civilians and created hazards for state workers such as ourselves,¡± he said, puffing out his chest. ¡°Despite being removed from her appointed position as Lesser Goddess of Nether Maintenance, she continues to illegally meddle in the wiring. As such, Sera had to step in and cover for her position.¡± If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡°Sera had to step in?¡± Momo said incredulously. ¡°What are you even talking about? Valerica was doing all of that at Morgana¡¯s request. She was ensuring that the traitors who were teaming up with Sera couldn¡¯t leave the Nether and flee elsewhere. Standard preventative measures.¡± As the words left her mouth, another bout of sudden gasps took over the crowd of police. Momo frowned. That wasn¡¯t a reassuring sound. ¡°Have you been living in a cave? None of that information is accurate,¡± the officer scoffed. ¡°Morgana has been ill for some time now. Her waning influence has caused the Nether Demons to reproduce out of control. Consequently, replicant areas have become nearly unpoliceable. Sera is the only thing keeping this place from turning into utter bedlam. Praise Morgana¡¯s name, but she is no longer strong enough to do the job she has been tasked with¡ªto protect and serve this realm.¡± Momo gaped at him. Ill? This had to be Sera¡¯s bullshit propaganda at work. But how was she even pulling it off? Morgana was supposed to be all-seeing, all-powerful, and she couldn¡¯t even buy her own political advertisement in Nether Times Square? None of it made sense. The only possibility Momo could imagine was that Sera was keeping her away from her subjects somehow. Secluded and isolated. Some sort of goddess kidnapping. That would explain the sickness narrative. And with the entire pantheon on Sera¡¯s side, such a feat seemed plausible. ¡°This is quite enough,¡± the officer grumbled, pulling at her cuffed hands. ¡°You¡¯re coming with us to the station. Boys, get the door open.¡± ¡°Sorry,¡± Momo said. ¡°But that¡¯s not happening.¡± She flourished her wings, and whispered another Demagogue skill into the air. ¡°[Illusion of the Other].¡± Momo smirked widely as the skill manifested. Like a ghost emerging from a dark grave, the silhouette of Valerica rose above the crowd of men, her immense shadow draping over them. Despite their lack of facial features, Momo could feel the utter and sudden terror enveloping them. You could hear a pin drop, it was so silent. ¡°It¡¯s her!¡± one screamed, and all hell broke loose. The faux-Valerica laughed maniacally, flashing her talon-like nails. Shrieks came from all directions as the policemen furiously elbowed their way back into their vehicles. Dashboards crashed with windshields and glass flew overhead as the vehicles smashed headlong into each other; car alarms rang out, red headlights flared and stuttered, and Momo took the opportunity to soar upwards, above the men and the beautiful illusion. It was a scene of utter destruction and chaos. Momo was sad Valerica wasn¡¯t there to see it. ¡ª Once Momo escaped Nether New York¡ªwhich was as simple as flying until her head bobbed back up into the emptiness of space¡ªNether Shibuya wasn¡¯t too hard to find. She could practically hear it, even in the deadness of the Nether. The pumping beat of the bass, the chaotic thrum of a hundred feet hitting the floor. After all, it wasn¡¯t just Shibuya, but a specific nightclub in the dead heart of the district. A shifty, noisy joint called The Viper. Bright neon lights decorated the club¡¯s metallic frame, like a head lamp attached to a vibrating cage. ¡°What can I get you?¡± The bartender¡ªwho was by all appearances a snake¡ªfixed her with the question as she approached the bar. Fortunately, getting inside the club hadn¡¯t been difficult. The bouncer had asked her for a password, but after she said she was looking for Valerica, he let her inside without question. ¡°She doesn¡¯t go by that here,¡± he had told her harshly. ¡°Just call her V.¡± Facing the snake-headed bartender, Momo folded her elbows onto the bartop. An action she swiftly regretted, as they quickly felt sticky with alcohol. ¡°I don¡¯t want anything to drink. I¡¯m looking for someone,¡± she said loudly, her voice barely carrying over the bass. ¡°Someone named um, V. Can you point me in her direction?¡± The snake¡¯s eyes squinted, his tongue flickering out. ¡°Are you a pig or something?¡± ¡°Oh¡ªnot at all, promise.¡± She waved her hands around defensively. ¡°I¡¯m not a fan of the police. And they¡¯re definitely not a fan of me.¡± He quirked his head, confused. ¡°I wasn¡¯t talking about no police. V just has this weird thing for pigs this month¡ªkeeps requesting them as backup dancers. I¡¯ve been telling her there¡¯s not many swine-folk in Shibuya, but she insists they do the best modern jazz contemporary.¡± ¡°Swine-folk?¡± ¡°Pig-folk, pig men. What, you¡¯ve never met one? Jeez, next thing you¡¯ll tell me you¡¯ve never ordered a vodka cherry from a snake, either,¡± he hissed good-naturedly, using his tail to shake a cocktail tin. ¡°You out-of-towners really need to read a brochure before you come here. Last night, I watched some guy faint after only ten shots of Nether Nectar. Ten. You¡¯d think I had tried to kill him, the way his soul chain was shaking.¡± ¡°This music is shit.¡± The elf beside her at the bar elbowed into their conversation, drunkenly sticking his empty glass out for the snake to refill. ¡°I came to hear some Deep House. This is like¡ªlike Deep Home or some shit. Too cozy. I want to feel out of my mind, you know? Like I¡­ like I¡¯m leaving my body, ascending to some crazy, Matrix-type afterlife¡­¡± The bartender laughed, filling the elf¡¯s glass with a dark liquid. ¡°Dude, you¡¯re already there.¡± Just as Momo was about to pipe in again, the lights changed. The flickering reds and greens turned purple. Majestic, royal purple. The music vanished, eerie quiet overtaking the space. The snake man turned his gaze towards Momo. He placed a drink in-front of her, the black juice sloshing onto the table. It smelled like fruit and sulfur. ¡°This one¡¯s called Pain and Pleasure,¡± he whispered vaguely, gesturing towards the drink. ¡°Now, drink up. It¡¯s on the house. This isn¡¯t a performance you can handle sober. Trust me.¡± The beat of a gong pierced the silence. The main stage¡ªwhich Momo hadn¡¯t even noticed was there previously¡ªcame alive with white, billowing smoke. The music that came after was starkly different from the electronic noise that had plagued the room before. This new sound¡ªthis chant¡ªwas a singular note, haunting and feminine, building and building with no climax. ¡°Oh hell yes,¡± the elf said, scrambling out of his seat. ¡°Get out of my way, out of my way¡ª¡± The smoke parted, revealing seven dancers on the stage¡ªall distinctly pigs, if Momo¡¯s eyes weren¡¯t betraying her¡ªand one human woman, draped in velvet, gripping the microphone stand. Her jet black hair fell over her eyes, but her mouth was open wide and grinning. Seeing her, Momo¡¯s heart began to stutter. She knew those lips. ¡°Salacious citizens of the Viper,¡± the woman sang to the cheers of the crowd, and despite the masses of people, her eyes seemed to find Momo in an instant. ¡°I¡¯m so dreadfully happy to welcome you to my final show.¡± 228 – My Greatest Accomplishment Momo swallowed. Did she say her final show? Another eruption of white smoke, and Valerica disappeared. The music that proceeded was like nothing Momo had ever heard¡ªhaunting, electric, ear bleeding; her entire body vibrated. It was like getting shock therapy without the pain. Just the terrible, nerve-numbing sensation. She wordlessly downed the shot that the bartender gave her, slamming the glass down on the bar. The liquid went down clean and easy, but the aftertaste was horrific. Her entire world spun for a moment, and she clung to the bartop, her head pounding. On stage, the pigs had claimed the audience¡¯s rapt attention. Roses trapped in their mouths, they twirled and fluttered like ballerinas, a flurry of limbs, their fluid motions appearing like a stop-motion film under the pulsating stage lights. Momo could no longer see Valerica, but she could hear her voice crawling out of every crevice. The metallic walls reeked of her, glasses shattered when exposed to her startling pitch. It was hell, it was heaven¡ªit was¡­ a nightclub. ¡°I love you, V!¡± the drunk elf from before shouted, his arms thrown upwards, his eyes blissed out and his body undulating amongst the packed crowd. ¡°You¡¯re the best thing that¡¯s ever happened to me!¡± Momo nearly laughed at the irony of it; in many ways, Valerica was the best thing that had ever happened to her, too. She felt a twinge of superiority over that dupe in the crowd, as if he was only projecting¡ªengaged in some parasocial, fantastical bullshit¡ªwhile Momo, unlike him, really knew Valerica. But did she? Did she really? Secretly, below that cheap facade of superiority, she felt quite unsure. What did she really know about Valerica? The woman was about as transparent as a block of wood. Was she a mage, zealously committed to her leader, an apathetic narcissist solely obsessed with her self image, or, hells, was she just like Momo¡ªa girl in way over her head? She somehow doubted that last one. As the pigs wrapped up their first dance number, Valerica materialized on stage again. Momo never saw her walk up to the mic stand; she would just appear there, as if by black magic¡ªand knowing her, that was no way metaphorical. Bearing her perfect vampiric teeth, her eyes smudged with black eyeshadow, her mere presence cast a spell of complete silence over the crowd. Even the bartender shushed drink-hungry patrons, gesturing towards the stage. ¡°As many of you know,¡± Valerica began, leaning into the stand seductively. ¡°I¡¯ve been performing here for the last¡ªoh, how long has it been¡ªeighty four years? Two months? I still haven¡¯t gotten my watches adjusted to Nether time.¡± She flung her pocket watch into the crowd, and the fans in the pit fought for it so ravenously that two people had to be escorted out on stretchers. ¡°Gods, it¡¯s just been such a pleasure headlining the Viper. You people are just my kind of people, you know? Boisterous. Risque. Impossibly fashionable. Murderous. Speaking of.¡± Valerica raised her hands, palms up, and red mist sprouted from her veins, congealing into a shimmering hologram of a bloody dagger. The crowd marveled as it rotated mid-air. What the hell is she up to? Momo thought. She knew Valerica was all about surprise and spectacle¡ªbut this performance was far more somber than her usual. It was almost like a funeral, somehow, a public mourning. A not-so-quiet admittance of defeat. Valerica turned her head towards the back of the stage, beckoning something with her fingers. Bring it out, she mouthed. The pigs obliged, wheeling out something covered in a black tarp. This something was quite large, almost as tall as Valerica in her high-heels. It had a wooden base, but nothing else about its shape was obvious. A morbid curiosity overtook Momo. She knew Valerica loved her props, her set dressing; this had to be something good. ¡°I know the Viper is an escape for all of us. The one place left in this eternal twilight where we can just let go¡ªlet our hair down, shake out those post-mortal nerves. But unfortunately, even here, amongst our devilish peers, we are no longer safe. This place, too, has been compromised,¡± she said, her lips nearly pressed to the microphone. ¡°So, I have decided to make this performance a tribute. A tribute to the woman at the center of all my woes. The woman I once called a lover, if you can believe that.¡± Momo¡¯s face turned pale. She hadn¡¯t expected that. A lover? ¡°Sera, and I know you¡¯re listening,¡± Valerica whispered into the mic. ¡°This elaborate game of cat and mouse¡ªthis delicious revenge plot that has been elevated to the realm of deities¡ªit¡¯s truly the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me. I¡¯ve never felt more desired than now, when every single step I take feels like my last. The level of exhilaration I feel at my every breath, as if it might be taken from me, even in the afterlife¡­ it¡¯s positively arousing.¡± Valerica looked to the side, signaling one of her backup dancers. A pig in a tutu brought out a red, bloody bass. It was all sharp edges. Valerica slung it over her shoulder wordlessly. ¡°And in an astonishing turn of events,¡± she continued breathlessly. ¡°It seems that my last moment might really just be nearing. I can feel your ghost¡ªyour phantom¡ªon the back of my neck. Just breathing there. So I thought, while I wait, I would play you a little song. A little romantic ballad. I think it just about summarizes my feelings towards you.¡± The bass came in so loud that Momo thought her ear drums might have popped. It was a lion¡¯s roar of an opening, and she was grateful for that shot she downed just before. The pigs yanked the tarp off, revealing a paper-mach¨¦ construction of a guillotine. Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. Oh my god. Momo¡¯s knuckles turned white as they gripped the counter. The guillotine¡¯s blade loomed over the faux-head of a paper Sera, her black, matted locks of paper hair drooping onto the floor. Valerica didn¡¯t even flinch¡ªgrinning wide and insane as she pulled the release mechanism. Sera¡¯s paper neck crunched and dropped to the floor, beheaded. The crowd went absolutely insane. It occurred to Momo, then, just what Valerica was. What Valerica had always been. There was no facade. It was all quite obvious. Valerica was crazy. And Momo loved her for it. Enraptured as she was by the woman on the stage, Momo barely noticed as someone took a seat beside her. They lit a cigarette, the smoke billowing by her cheek. ¡°Hi, darling.¡± Momo whipped her head around. It was Valerica¡¯s voice, unmistakably. And looking back at her was none other than the woman herself¡ªthe same woman who was right now performing on stage. She looked back and forth between them stupidly, wondering if the alcohol was giving her hallucinations. ¡°The demoness look, it suits you,¡± Valerica said, taking another long drag before punting the cigarette to the floor and driving her heel through it. She was wearing the same outfit as she was on this stage, but at this proximity, Momo could see the imperfections in her makeup: her smudged eyeliner, the slight moist frizz in her hair. ¡°Oh, stop it with that look. What¡¯s a little cigarette from time to time for a goddess? I always loathed tobacco back on the mortal plane; I thought, why would you ever want to waste your death on something as ordinary as lung decay? I always knew, when I was to go out, it would be magnificently, by sword blade or incineration. But I thought now¡ªI¡¯m already dead, why not experiment?¡ªturns out, you can get a nicotine addiction in the afterlife, too.¡± She laughed giddily. ¡°So that¡¯s been fun.¡± Despite the abject ridiculousness of whatever just spilled out of Valerica¡¯s lips, Momo couldn¡¯t help but beam at her. Because, of course. Of course Valerica thought the most useful thing about godhood is it allowed you to smoke cigarettes without the added benefit of lung cancer. ¡°How are you here¡­?¡± Momo gestured from the stage to the barstool. The Valerica on stage was still belting the performance of a lifetime¡ªand occasionally taking a moment to stomp on Sera¡¯s paper-mach¨¦ head, much to the joy of the audience. Valerica gave her a pitying look, squeezing her hand softly. ¡°Oh darling, shifting planes of existence has really taken a toll on your memory. I¡¯m using [Body Double].¡± She snapped her fingers. Two more Valerica¡¯s appeared on the other barstools, waved, then promptly disappeared again with another snap. ¡°I believe people from your planet call it multitasking.¡± Right. Of course. Momo felt stupid. It was Valerica¡¯s signature skill. That alcohol really had been potent. ¡°Was all of that true?¡± Momo said, still caught in a daze from Valerica¡¯s Shakesperian monologue. ¡°About¡­ you and Sera?¡± ¡°Of course. Why would I lie?¡± Valerica responded, raising an eyebrow. ¡°No obsession runs deeper than a lover scorned. Like I said, I truly am flattered by Sera¡¯s insistence, really, but there are better ways to win back a woman. Decimating and defaming one¡¯s boss and putting a target on my dear protege¡¯s head is a notably bad strategy.¡± ¡°You¡¯re saying¡­ she¡¯s doing all of this¡­ to win you back?¡± ¡°Not all,¡± she answered brusquely. ¡°I¡¯m not that much of a narcissist to think this is all about me. As I said to you before, she¡¯s doing it for many reasons. But all of those reasons run right back to her ego. And anyone who stepped on that ego is enemy number uno. Morgana, me, I suppose Azrael is next¡­¡± She took a drag of her cigarette. ¡°Her plan¡ªscheming with all the other gods, using that dreaded box of hers to reclaim the mortals¡ªis going off without a hitch, it seems, so it¡¯s only a matter of time before¡­¡± Valerica looked out the window, her sentence dying off. Momo looked out the window to try and follow her gaze, but saw nothing there. Just blinking streetlights. She took Valerica¡¯s shoulder and shook it with an urgency. ¡°I need you,¡± she said, before realizing just how direct that was. Her cheeks immediately flushed as Valerica¡¯s face lit up salaciously. ¡°The Wraith Box, I have it with me. I was able to get it across to the Nether. Her plan isn¡¯t going off without a hitch.¡± Valerica¡¯s eyes widened comically. Surprise¡ªit wasn¡¯t something Momo saw much on her features. Despite the woman¡¯s penchant for chaos, it was most typically chaos planned in advance. ¡°Wait, you did?¡± she remarked in disbelief. ¡°But I told you it was impossible. That it would explode between realms.¡± ¡°It wasn¡¯t. It didn¡¯t.¡± Valerica¡¯s grin widened. ¡°It didn¡¯t?¡± ¡°No,¡± Momo shook her head. ¡°I suppose not, seeing as I¡¯m still here.¡± ¡°Wow,¡± Valerica said, then grinned even wider. ¡°You disobeyed me.¡± ¡°I realized¡ªwait, what?¡± Valerica laughed. She withdrew a package of Lucky Strikes from her coat pocket and threw them on the bartop. The snake bartender lit one of them for her, a lighter between his teeth. ¡°I said you disobeyed me,¡± she repeated. ¡°I mean¡ªI didn¡¯t mean to,¡± Momo said, her cheeks reddening. She felt suddenly embarrassed, like a child who had been caught drawing on the walls. ¡°It was all very sudden, and I wasn¡¯t thinking¡­¡± ¡°I¡¯m so proud of you.¡± Valerica was smiling radiantly at her. It was utterly full of admiration. Momo stared at her, bewildered. ¡°You are?¡± ¡°Of course.¡± She put the cigarette to her lips again. ¡°You know how I was reading a lot of books during my goddess onboarding? Like, a lot of books.¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Momo answered breathlessly. ¡°I remember.¡± ¡°So, I happened to read a bunch of books on parenting. How to raise children through the different stages of life,¡± she hummed. ¡°I thought it might improve my people management skills. Turns out, it did. Fabulously. There was this whole chapter on adolescence, and how the biggest breakthrough a child can have is to question authority¡ªto form their own ideals and buck those of their beloved guardian. I never thought¡­¡± Valerica looked out the window again. She closed her eyes and inhaled the steamy nightclub air like it was fresh from the Alps, smiling pleasantly. ¡°I thought my greatest joy in life would be earning my spot in the Circle of the Lich, in getting Morgana¡¯s approval, in¡­ outdoing Devola, if we¡¯re being honest,¡± she said, smirking wildly. ¡°As it turns out, that wasn¡¯t quite true.¡± She opened her eyes, and looked at Momo, holding her gaze like a hostage with a gun pressed to their forehead. ¡°My greatest joy, Momo, has been you. You¡ªwho came to me as lifeless as the dirt. Mentoring you, watching you grow. It¡¯s been like raising life from the dead. You have been my greatest accomplishment in the field of necromancy.¡± She cupped the side of Momo¡¯s face, holding it as gently as a flower petal. There was an odd seriousness in her eyes. ¡°It¡¯s funny, I used to see you as this thing I needed to take care of,¡± she whispered, her breath falling like cold death on Momo¡¯s face. Valerica¡¯s nose nudged at her cheek. ¡°But now¡­ I think you might have to take care of me, darling.¡± She kissed Momo¡¯s cheek softly, sacredly, and through the foggy nightclub window, Momo finally saw what Valerica had been looking at. 229 – Momo and Momo There was a black limousine parked outside. It was impossibly sleek; so much so that it had blended in completely with the dark concrete, camouflaging like a chameleon. She only noticed it now because the door was slightly ajar. A single leg, pale and narrow, protruded out. ¡°You have to do it now,¡± Valerica whispered urgently, pulling back from Momo¡¯s cheek. ¡°I won¡¯t be able to help you anymore, darling. You have to do this one yourself.¡± Momo couldn¡¯t look away from the window; couldn¡¯t turn to face her mentor, even as she was begging to be faced. Momo''s eyes felt pinned to that gauzy glass, her neck fixed in position like it was sitting between two slabs of metal. Valerica¡¯s words fell muffled and quiet on her eardrums. She felt an unnatural pull to that limousine like the gravity on Jupiter. ¡°I¡­¡± she mumbled, willing her lips to speak, but Valerica was already gone. Not that Valerica had ever really been there, necessarily. It was only her apparition that had vanished. Her true body was probably somewhere far away and safe, Momo hoped. A hideaway where no one would ever look, like the attic of a dusty old Victorian, or an unwieldy field of tall grass in the middle of an Appalachian bald. ¡°Honey, are you good? That was just one shot,¡± the Viper¡¯s viper bartender said to her, pulling her from her stupor. He was looking at her with a mixture of pity and annoyance. ¡°Huh. There, finally got your attention. I thought I was going to have to get you escorted out. You¡¯ve just been sitting there talking to yourself like a mad woman. Not that having hallucinations is a crime here or anything. Half the people I serve are half-in, half-out, so to speak. But it sure is distracting to my work environment to have you be so melodramatic.¡± ¡°S¨Csorry,¡± Momo stuttered, blinking fast. Had he not noticed Valerica? Maybe Momo actually was going insane. She felt the need to confirm what she was seeing, and pointed out the window. ¡°Do you see that limousine out front? The black one?¡± ¡°A black limousine?¡± He moved his head languidly forward so he had a good view out the window, then narrowed his eyes. Momo waited with baited breath for his conclusion; she could still see the limousine clear as day. There was a valet standing outside of it now, obscuring the woman¡¯s leg. The valet had on a suit and tie, navy blue, and was holding a fancy black umbrella. ¡°Shit,¡± the snake hissed, his eyes going wide as he jerked backwards. ¡°Shit, shit¡­ Sandy! This is a code goddamn S, Sandy! Clear this place out!¡± Sandy, as it happened, was a giant bear¡ªand also the head of security. After the bartender blew the alarm, the next few minutes flew past Momo like a paper bag in the wind. The patrons rushed out in chaotic waves, the lights flared briefly¡ªred, blue, yellow, white¡ªbefore dying out, draping the room in a messy, cluttered darkness. Trash littered the floor. Unfinished drinks sat on tables and countertops. On the stage, Sera¡¯s paper-carcass lay in pieces. Her head lolled over the side of the stage, tumbling into the darkness. Momo shot out the back exit, finding herself by the garbage bins. Racoon men were there, chatting absently as they feasted on the evening¡¯s trash. They were the only people left who hadn¡¯t run for the streets, or glided up and out of Nether Shibuya in search of a different replicant area to dance the night away in. ¡°[Focus],¡± Momo cast, urgency pumping through her veins as she stumbled behind the dumpster. The raccoons gave her a suspicious look. ¡°This is our garbage, alright?¡± one said, and she nodded obediently. She had one singular focus, and that was not their leftover anchovy pizza. Fetching the Wraith Box from her pocket, she cupped it in her hands. It was vibrating now, a little faster than when she arrived, but still not cataclysmically. She had time. Minutes, probably. ¡°That ¡­ that ¡­ diabolical piece of...¡± Glass shattered. Sera¡¯s paper-mache head came rocketing out of the nightclub and onto the blacktop. It rolled and rolled until it settled near the raccoon-men¡¯s feet, its hollow eyes staring up at them. They looked at it for a moment, looked between each other, then tossed the anchovy pizza aside. They vanished into the streets not a moment after. ¡°I swear to Morgana, I¡¯ll have each one of her bodies hung until I find the real one. Then I¡¯ll trap that one in a little cage¡ªa bird cage, made for parrots¡ªand make her sing me lullabies.¡± Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. ¡°Ms. Sera, I don¡¯t think she¡¯s here anymore,¡± another voice addressed her quietly. It was probably the valet. ¡°But we¡¯ve got a good trace on her coordinates. The catwalk communicator we planted on her suggests she¡¯s somewhere around¡­¡± ¡°I don¡¯t have time for Valerica,¡± Sera hissed back. ¡°What I need is for you to track down that filthy horned-prodigee of hers. If we don¡¯t haul her back to where she came from, all of this will be for naught. Do you understand? Am I making myself clear enough for you, Jeffrey?¡± ¡°Very clear, madam.¡± ¡°Considering you¡¯re still standing,¡± Sera said, and her voice adopted a chilling quality. ¡°And not on your knees begging for my forgiveness, I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve been clear enough.¡± ¡°Ms. Sera, please, forgive my tone¡ª¡± The inside of the nightclub sounded like a demolition zone. Momo couldn¡¯t see exactly what was transpiring inside, but the central emotion was most definitely fury. A new wave of dread washing over her, Momo looked at the trembling box in her hands. Sera was liable to come bursting out of those nightclub doors any minute now, and if she laid her eyes on Momo¡­ well, it didn¡¯t sound like it would lead to any pleasant conclusions. She needed to find a safe place to finally disassemble this thing. ¡°[Rift Hands ¨C Create Portal]¡± A portal etched itself into the back of the dumpster. Momo didn¡¯t wait for it to grow on its own terms. She drove her hands through it, forcibly peeling back the edges with her fingers until there was room enough for her to squirm through; she shoved with her torso, shimmied through her wings, until she was flung once again into the milky blackness of the between-space. Her head promptly collided with the front of her old Toyota. She groaned. ¡°Stupid thing¡­¡± she groaned. She waded around in the black, dazed, desperate to find a new world to stow away in. As much as she¡¯d love to get comfy inside her old, crusty Yaris, she knew it wasn¡¯t wise. If Sera caught her in this between space¡ªin the darkness that existed between all of the replicant areas¡ªshe¡¯d have nowhere to hide. And Momo was quite fond of hiding. But given that Sera was quite fond of finding, Momo decided she needed to create a red herring. Inspired by Valerica¡¯s [Body Double] skill, she remembered that she had, in fact, acquired her own version of that very skill. It didn¡¯t work quite the same way, but it would accomplish the same key effect, she hoped: distraction. She reviewed the skill briefly before casting it.
[Body Double]: Using your mastery over Nether manipulation, you can temporarily pull a version of yourself from a different dimension. Given that it is a real person, you cannot mind-control this double. It will simply act as if it was you, with all the accompanying personality traits and quirks. This skill works within a 30 foot radius, and lasts for 10 minutes. When the double is on the verge of being killed, it will despawn.
Dear god. This could end very badly. Unfortunately, Momo didn¡¯t have time for catastrophizing. This was already a catastrophe-in-progress. She cast the skill, holding her breath as she watched a figure materialize in front of her in the dark. First came the face, with her rounded, chipmunk cheeks, then her eyebrows, perpetually raised, then, well, the rest of her. In a matter of seconds, she was facing her longest-time rival. Herself. Other-Momo was dressed in an outfit she recognized immediately. It was her Mallmart employee uniform. Holy shit. This was Momo pre-college, in the most social time of her life¡ªwhen her singular friend was her 56 year old coworker¡ªas opposed to previously, when her only friend was her cat. Clone Momo looked at her with wide, disbelieving eyes. ¡°Oh god, oh god, oh god. Where am I?¡± She then twirled her head around, blinking quickly. ¡°This isn¡¯t the maternity section.¡± Other Momo did, immediately, what Momos do best. She began to panic and hyperventilate. Momo wasn¡¯t sure why she didn¡¯t see this coming. ¡°We don¡¯t have time for this,¡± Momo urged, grabbing her clone¡¯s hand. Clone Momo shrieked, wiggling her arm desperately. Momo was actually quite impressed at Mallmart-Momo¡¯s strength. She had clearly put on some muscle hauling dog toys and maternity wear across that football field of a store everyday. Muscle that Momo quickly lost after she quit, but it was a small miracle that it was ever there. ¡°Oh my god¡ªstop wiggling. Can¡¯t you just be quiet? We¡¯re usually so good at being quiet.¡± Luckily, Momo did stop her wriggling. Besides being quiet, her other biggest strength was, of course, taking orders from absolutely any source of authority that presented itself. ¡°Sorry,¡± Clone Momo apologized. ¡°I¡¯ll be quiet.¡± With a relieved breath, Momo moved to drag her clone into the nearest bubble, but then something dawned on her like an anvil. She paused, turning her head around. ¡°Wait, that¡¯s it? I just teleported you¡ªmy clone¡ªfrom a completely different universe, during your workday, and you¡¯re just going to accept that? And also apologize for it?¡± Clone Momo stared at her mutely. Momo knew that expression. She¡ªdespite every single reason for her to act out, scream, run away, hide¡ªwas only concerned with one thing. And that was making sure that Momo wasn¡¯t mad at her. ¡°Wow,¡± Momo said. ¡°Wow, this is¡­¡± This is exactly what Valerica saw that first day. This was the crumpled-piece-of-paper of a human being that she had so easily believed in, no questions asked. Before Momo had time to reflect on that in any meaningful way, she spotted a hand clawing its way out of the Nether Shibuya bubble. ¡°Shit,¡± Momo yelled. ¡°We¡¯ll work on your self-confidence later!¡± Without looking twice, she hurtled the both of them into a new realm. 230 – Soliloquy at Dawn ¡°Oh no. No no no no no.¡± Momo was back in Alois. At least, that¡¯s what she thought at first. But telling from the fact that her Wraith Box hadn¡¯t exploded in her pocket, she couldn¡¯t be. She looked around frantically, taking in the imposing dark tower before her, the decaying, sulfur-smelling farm house, the dead grass, the nondescript animal bones laying around like childrens¡¯ toys. The evidence was all irrefutable. She knew exactly where she was. This was Morgana¡¯s Dawn. Nether edition. I guess not all replicant areas are mirrors of Earth, she thought. People from Alois who¡¯ve died must have their own curated hospice illusions too. But this is so specific. Why the Dawn? ¡°Come on,¡± Momo said, tugging her stunned clone by the hand. ¡°We can¡¯t just stay out in the open like this.¡± Clone Momo nodded and let Momo lead her through the back entrance, up the spiral staircase, and into the main foyer. It was just as Momo remembered it: a central table brimming with bones and tomes, green silks and sinew. A few necromancers were plodding around the place, although none that Momo recognized. Of course, the people here would have to be dead, so it¡¯d be unfortunate if she did recognize anyone. The Dawn¡¯s phantom necromancers barely acknowledged her as she hurried through the corridors. No jolted, startled glances; no long looks of intrigue. These necromantic specimens had all clearly passed on before Momo had risen to any sort of esteem in Alois. Were these Valerica¡¯s late students? They looked too old to be. Older than her. Maybe they were here before Valerica? Momo had never really learned the history of the Dawn before Valerica arrived. She just imagined Valerica whisked it into existence, snapped her fingers and so it was. ¡°Is this like a Halloween horror house?¡± Clone Momo asked quietly as they ascended another set of stairs. She was headed towards her beloved attic nook¡ªthe one with the view of the front courtyard. ¡°I don¡¯t really do well with jumpscares.¡± Momo thought about disagreeing, but she couldn¡¯t promise there wouldn¡¯t be any jumpscares. In fact, the whole reason she had summoned Other-Momo was as a precaution against them. Sera-scares specifically. ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± she said eventually. ¡°I¡¯ll make sure to give you a heads up beforehand.¡± This did not seem to comfort her counterpart. ¡°Can we have a signal?¡± Clone-Momo asked, trembling. ¡°Like some kind of hand movement? Like the one Nancy¡ª¡± ¡°¡ªused to tell us someone¡¯s water broke in the Maternity Wear section?¡± Momo interrupted, finishing her sentence. It was the three finger sign. By Nancy¡¯s logic, it was the amount of time in seconds they had before a pregnant woman was giving birth in the snack aisle. ¡°Yeah, that one.¡± ¡°Sure,¡± she laughed. ¡°We can use that one.¡± Climbing up a shaky ladder, they arrived at their final destination. Momo cleared the muggy attic window with her sleeve, breathed out a heavy sigh, and leaned against the boxes of molding fish that were clogging up the attic. She was so used to the smell that she hadn¡¯t even noticed it, but younger Momo looked like she was ready to hurl. ¡°It¡¯s fine. You¡¯ll stop noticing it after a few minutes,¡± Momo said of the smell. Clone Momo looked unconvinced. With another exasperated breath, Momo tossed the boxes out of the attic, watching for several seconds as they fell, then promptly cracked and spilled onto the bottom floor of the tower. ¡°There, better?¡± Clone Momo nodded gratefully. Momo gave her a small smile. They just sat there for a moment, silent, unsure what to say to each other. It was a weird thing, having an awkward silence with yourself. It shouldn¡¯t be awkward on principle, but then again, if anyone was going to accomplish such a feat, it would be Momo. She was surprised she wasn¡¯t getting any humiliating courier notifications. Promptly remembering why she was, in fact, here, she dug into her pocket for the Wraith Box. It was thrumming with power and energy at a faster pace than before. Not a good sign. But still, she trusted that she had time. There was no reason for Sera to check here specifically. There were hundreds of Nether bubbles to choose from. ¡°Wait, are you¡­ me?¡± Momo looked up from the box to find her counterpart looking at her with slaw-jacked shock. ¡°Did that just dawn on you?¡± Momo said, both surprised and exasperated. ¡°How was that not obvious?¡± Clone Momo looked hurt by her tone, frowning. Momo immediately backpedaled. ¡°Sorry, that was rude. I don¡¯t know why I feel so comfortable being rude to myself. I have to unpack that,¡± she trailed off. ¡°Anyway, yes, I¡¯m you. You from the future, I guess.¡± This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. ¡°Wow. Wait, seriously?¡± ¡°Yeah.¡± ¡°That¡¯s so weird.¡± ¡°It is definitely weird.¡± ¡°So like,¡± Mallmart Momo chewed on her bottom lip. ¡°I can just ask you questions about how things turn out for me, and you¡¯ll just know? Because you¡¯ve already lived them?¡± ¡°I guess so. Although that¡¯s not really why I brought you here¡ª¡± ¡°I have my first question,¡± Clone Momo interjected before Momo could explain. ¡°Why are you dressed like that?¡± Momo frowned. ¡°Like what?¡± Clone Momo gestured towards the top of her head, then at her shoulders. Ah yes. The horns and the wings. She certainly hadn¡¯t had those at Mallmart. Momo contemplated actually explaining it, but that seemed both stupid and futile. She wasn¡¯t merely talking to herself pre-self confidence, but also pre¡­ intelligence, to put it politely. There were only so many brain cells she was working with. Not to mention the¡ªshe looked down at the pulsating death box in her sweaty palms¡ªextenuating circumstances. ¡°It¡¯s like a costume,¡± she answered finally. ¡°But a more permanent, expensive one. And I didn¡¯t buy it with money. I kind of made it myself.¡± ¡°Like cosplay?¡± Momo laughed, remembering how she had made that same exact conclusion back when she first got to Morgana¡¯s Dawn. Honestly, knowing what she did now about Azrael and his body-snatching tendencies, she had kind of been onto something. ¡°Yeah, sure.¡± Clone Momo seemed horrified. ¡°So you wear those things in front of¡­ other people?¡± ¡°Yep. They don¡¯t exactly¡­ come off.¡± ¡°And you¡¯re not embarrassed?¡± Momo scrunched her nose. ¡°Now you¡¯re the one being rude,¡± she said. Clone Momo yelped, blushing. ¡°Sorry.¡± ¡°See¡ªthat was an appropriate time to say sorry. Not the other one hundred times you did it on our way here.¡± ¡°Sorry.¡± ¡°See, again, one sorry was enough.¡± ¡°Sorry?¡± ¡°Oh my god.¡± ¡°Sorry,¡± she said again instinctively, then flushed, realizing it had slipped her lips again. ¡°Are you mad at me?¡± Clone Momo had her knees pulled up to her chest now. She looked positively tiny, like a bug rolled up in a defensive position. Momo¡¯s heart dropped. ¡°No, Momo,¡± she said, heaving out a long breath. ¡°I¡¯m not mad at you.¡± ¡°You seem mad. Your forehead is all wrinkled and your eyebrows are doing that thing our eyebrows do.¡± Momo did not enjoy this sensation of self-awareness. ¡°Okay, I¡¯m a little mad, but not at you,¡± she admitted. ¡°I¡¯m mad at¡­ me?¡± ¡°So you are mad at me.¡± ¡°You are willfully misconstruing what I¡¯m saying right now and you know it.¡± Clone Momo bit her lip, caught red-handed. ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ I spent so much time living like you do. So afraid,¡± Momo said. ¡°I never realized how tiring it is to listen to. To be around. Like, aren¡¯t you tired?¡± ¡°Of course I¡¯m tired,¡± Other-Momo mumbled. ¡°I haven¡¯t slept in thirty six hours.¡± ¡°What¡ªfirst of all, that¡¯s not what I meant¡ªbut why?¡± ¡°I stayed up all night watching Death Note. Then I couldn¡¯t sleep the next night because I was so scared about having nightmares about Death Note.¡± Momo put her face in her hands. Yeah, that tracked. ¡°Okay. Let¡¯s put Death Note aside. I mean¡ªaren¡¯t you tired of being such a pushover? I just wished I had realized earlier how exhausting it is. I feel like I could have done so much differently.¡± She pushed her knuckle to her temple and sighed. ¡°Like sometimes it feels like the universe had to put me here to teach me a lesson, and if only I had just learned that lesson earlier, without needing a whole necromancer cataclysmic apocalypse situation to drill it into my skull¡­¡± She looked out the window. Everything seemed so still. There was hardly a cloud in the sky, and no motion in the trees. It was unnaturally quiet for Alois. ¡°Why don¡¯t you tell me it now, then?¡± her clone said quietly as Momo trailed off. ¡°The lesson. Then maybe this whole¡ªnecropantser catpocalypse or whatever you said¡ªwe can just skip over it. Like hitting escape on a really long cutscene.¡± Momo snorted. ¡°Let me get this straight,¡± she said, turning to face her twin. ¡°You think if I tell you life¡¯s big great secret now, it¡¯ll unlock your true potential, none of this will ever happen, and I¡¯ll cease to exist?¡± Clone Momo shrugged. ¡°Something like that. Sometimes Nancy in the womenswear department tells me the world is ending, and then I find out we¡¯ve just run out of extra smalls. So, yeah. Sometimes an apocalypse is actually just a very solvable inventory problem.¡± Momo shook her head. She felt suddenly guilty for underestimating her younger self. ¡°I thought I was supposed to be the wise one in this equation.¡± ¡°Well, sorry to tell you, but you actually don¡¯t seem very wise,¡± Other-Momo mumbled. ¡°You haven¡¯t even let me in on the big secret yet.¡± Momo crossed her arms and pouted. ¡°Well, get ready then.¡± Despite both of them knowing this was a ruse, a sort of tension fell over the pair. A held, bated breath. Because¡­ what if? Momo had learned by then that nothing was impossible. Only the naive thought otherwise. ¡°You have to stop¡­¡± Momo paused. ¡°Being so afraid. Being afraid that people won¡¯t like you, or they¡¯ll be mad at you, or they¡¯ll leave you if you say something wrong.¡± She looked into her hands. That sounded more insightful in my head. The box was singing faintly now. She could hear the voices growing louder and louder. Beckoning her towards them. Singing so sweetly. ¡°Is that all? Thanks, doc. I¡¯ll try not worrying,¡± her counterpart scoffed. Momo laughed lowly. ¡°I know.¡± A beat passed. Nothing happened. No one ceased to exist. ¡°I guess I¡¯m beyond help,¡± Clone Momo said, shaking her head. ¡°I guess I just have to wait and get here,¡± she gestured to the molding attic with a laugh. ¡°And then I¡¯ll finally have the courage to face Mom and Dad.¡± Momo blinked, feeling suddenly like she¡¯d been punched in the gut. ¡°What?¡± she mumbled, paling. ¡°Don¡¯t look at me like that. You must remember what it felt like once.¡± She looked down at the floor, drawing her finger across the floorboards. ¡°I¡¯ve been looking at college applications. Dad wants me to stay local, but I just can¡¯t¡­ I can¡¯t face the way Mom looks at me every time she opens the bedroom door. Like I¡¯m some kind of wild¡­ swamp animal. Like a weird deformed platypus. ¡± She swallowed. ¡°I¡¯m thinking of going to some state school in Upstate New York. In Albany. Feels like the kind of place you move to if you''re planning on dying in the wilderness, but I figure that¡¯ll be hard to do if I don¡¯t leave my room. So.¡± Other-Momo finally looked back up at her. She had a small, weak smile on her face. ¡°I figure I¡¯ll escape for a few years, get my art degree, and by then, I¡¯ll finally be someone they can be proud of, or something. Either way, I¡¯ll see them again eventually. So no harm, no foul.¡± Momo¡¯s stomach turned. ¡°Right,¡± she laughed nervously. ¡°Actually, about that¡ª¡± The Wraith Box¡¯s singing turned suddenly to screams. 231 – Soul Chain Accident on On Aisle 5 ¡°What''s happening?¡± Clone Momo screamed. ¡°What¡¯s that noise?¡± ¡°Shit!¡± Momo¡¯s eyes enlarged comically as the box began to violently shake in her lap. She had been too caught up in the moment between herself and herself, she had forgotten about the very key reason she was stuck in this stupid alternate reality attic. This is what happens when I don¡¯t have access to my ADHD medication. ¡°I¡ªI got too distracted, crap, it¡¯s happening¡ª¡± ¡°What¡¯s happening?! You promised you¡¯d warn me with the hand signal!¡± ¡°Well, pretend I¡¯m doing the hand signal, alright?!¡± Momo clamped her fingers around the box, jaw clenching as she used her Mana to restrain the burgeoning souls. A chorus of cries was bellowing from within, growing louder and louder with each passing millisecond. The wood of the attic groaned, the floorboards shook. The single window exploded, shattered glass flying into Momo¡¯s wings. She cringed, but kept her composure. There was no more time to procrastinate. She needed to deal with this now. She asked the System for a review of the [Soul First Aid] skill, and the audio courier quickly obliged, speaking in a hurried tone, like an audiobook set at 2x the speed.
[Soul First Aid II]: You can heal as many soul chains as you¡¯d like simultaneously, but this is limited by your mana count.
Limited by your mana count. She had been reluctant to try this for a reason. She knew her Mana pool was far greater than it used to be¡ªespecially with her Excalibur upgrade¡ªbut she still had no idea just how much it would take to untie all the souls wound inside. But it¡¯s not like she had any other option. As the orchestra of battered soul chains screamed and clawed at their binds, Momo closed her eyes, attuning herself to that sound¡ªfocusing on nothing else. ¡°[Soul First Aid]¡± she whispered. Momo wasn¡¯t sure what she had expected to feel, but oh god¡ªit wasn¡¯t this. Blind, crazed pandemonium. Crying and screaming. The type of thing you hear after darkness shrouds a city in the Purge. It felt as if she had been yanked into the center of the cube itself. She lost track of her physical form, feeling only an overwhelming burning sensation; seeing only faces¡ªso many faces¡ªwith their wide, pained eyes, their open mouths, their hands, clawing towards her, falling over her shoulders and gripping her limbs. They were¡ªfor all intents and purposes¡ªconsuming her. ¡°Momo?¡± She could faintly hear the other girl¡¯s probing voice. It was so far away, so distant. Though telling from the strangely relaxed tone of it, Momo could only assume that the cube had stopped its infernal screaming, at least outwardly. She had put a lid on it, temporarily stymied the chemical reaction. ¡°Momo, are you okay? You look a little¡­ paler than usual, and you¡¯re twitching, is that normal? Is that something you usually do, twitch?¡± ¡°I just¡­ need a second,¡± Momo said, more terse than she intended, but all she could feel was pain, everywhere and spreading. ¡°I need¡ª¡± She groaned in agony. With her [Eye of the Nether Demon] wide open, Momo could see the inside of the box now, clear as day. It was blue, night sky blue, and brimming with bodies, floating and twitching and screaming in dead space. Bodies and bodies and bodies, congealed to each other, eating aimlessly at each other¡¯s limbs¡ªand now at hers. The souls were gripping her every molecule, desperate for the salvation she was offering. It was a morgue of the not-yet-dead; it was, aptly, hell, in the true sense. A torturer''s heaven. Momo began to cry. What kind of person would create this? She knew exactly who, but the why still evaded her. This was cruelty for cruelty¡¯s sake. There had to be some other way to achieve what Sera wanted: to own a slice of mortalkind, to rise above Morgana. It wasn¡¯t like the goal was ethical to begin with, but the means¡­ The means were unbelievably agonizing. No one with a heart could conceive of such a plan. Momo couldn¡¯t find the gall to care about Sera¡¯s reasoning anymore. Whatever the intention, whatever the sob story behind it may have been¡ªit was all null and void. This was evil, pure evil. It chilled her to the bone. Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! But I¡¯m going to¡­ She choked back a sob. I¡¯m going to put an end to it. Despite feeling like her skin was being ripped off, she persisted, locking her jaw. Some of the souls¡ªwhich looked vaguely human, but distorted and stretched¡ªbegan to detach their teeth from her, satiated. Their facades floated backwards, growing fainter and fainter, as they were quickly replaced by new, feverish souls, eager to eat from her palms. ¡°Momo, things are¡ªpeople are¡ªcoming out of that weird box!¡± Momo¡¯s eyes shuddered open, realizing only then that they¡¯d been closed. Her [Eye of the Nether Demon] allowed her to see both realities at once; in this one, she saw her clone right in front of her, staring in petrified horror as a man in a Subway uniform slumped onto the ground in front of her. Was that the soul I healed? It didn¡¯t take long for her to find out¡ªas dozens more began catapulting out of the cube and into the small space, flopping like dazed fish on land. ¡°Agh, Momo, updates, please! What¡¯s happening? These people are, like, drunk or something!¡± Mallmart Momo jumped from her sitting position, something she saw in front of her jolting her upwards. ¡°Sir, please don¡¯t walk there, you¡¯ll fall off! Oh¡ª¡± Unable to be contained by the small attic space, the bodies began tumbling down the staircase. Some skipped the stairs entirely, falling flat onto the base of the tower, crashing into wheelbarrows and floundering in heaps of hay. Her counterpart shrieked bloody murder. ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± Momo said weakly, trying to comfort her. ¡°It¡¯s the Nether, you can¡¯t¡ªno one can die here. They¡¯re not even going to get hurt. See how they¡¯re just getting back up? No injuries or anything?¡± She gestured vaguely downstairs, and after taking a look to confirm, her clone nodded slowly, jaw still slack. ¡°Just close your eyes, and, uh¡ªlook in the other direction.¡± Mallmart Momo looked at her like she was a ten year old library book she had forgotten to return. It was an expression of utter shock and horror. ¡°Oh god, I¡¯m really going crazy. I must be suffering a complete mental break. I knew it would happen before I hit twenty, but I was hoping for a few more weeks. I haven¡¯t even finished season two of Death Note¡­¡± ¡°Momo,¡± Momo mumbled. ¡°You¡¯re not losing it, and please stop talking about Death Note.¡± ¡°Just tell me how I can help,¡± Other Momo pleaded, falling to her knees. ¡°I don¡¯t know anything about the Nether, or about souls, or necromancy, but I do work in retail. And you¡¯re not exactly a mother giving birth in the Maternity Wear section, but it¡¯s¡­ it¡¯s close enough.¡± Momo wanted to reply, but she didn¡¯t have enough strength to get the words out. She could feel herself fading fast, but the rush of knowing it was working¡ªthat the people trapped inside that infernal box were healing, even if they were emerging like drunk newborns¡ªallowed her to push on. She¡¯d just keep going until she couldn¡¯t anymore. Then maybe she could take a break, let her Mana regenerate¡­
Congratulations! For healing and releasing over 50 battered souls like a proper Nether Mother Teresa, you have gained a level in Nether Demon (Purified Variant).
Despite the pain, Momo managed a slight grin. She didn¡¯t care about any potential skills the level up offered; in fact, she wasn¡¯t lucid enough to even catch them. She was only concerned that it improved her fast-depleting Mana pool. She could feel the immediate improvement, too, the magic coursing through her veins with renewed purpose. This silent glee was obviously not evident in her expression¡ªit probably looked a lot more like the small smile a drunk person might give before passing out on the bathroom floor¡ªbecause her clone jumped into immediate action. ¡°Nope. No way. I can¡¯t just sit here anymore,¡± she said, rising to her feet. ¡°This is officially a situation. I¡¯m going Mallmart manager mode.¡± Before she knew what was happening, Momo was being slung over her clone¡¯s shoulder. A feat that didn¡¯t seem like it should be possible, but given the metaphysics¡ªor, lack thereof¡ªin the Nether, or simply Mallmart Momo¡¯s sheer upper body strength, it was happening. The emerging bodies trailed after them as her clone slugged her down the stairs and out into the courtyard. The fresh forest air was welcome in Momo¡¯s nostrils, and she inhaled sharply. ¡°Good job, deep breaths,¡± Mallmart Momo coached her. ¡°Gods, I¡¯m not giving birth,¡± she finally squeaked out, her head less heavy now. ¡°And I know exactly which policy you¡¯re reciting¡ª¡± ¡°Shhh, deep breaths. The fresh air is clearly good for you. I¡¯m glad I brought you out here. Now, in, out. No need to speak. Just focus on breathing.¡± It was definitely the Mana, not the fresh air, she thought, but refrained from saying it. She didn¡¯t want to take the wind out of her clone¡¯s sails. Either way, clone-Mo was right. She needed to pace herself. She had done more than enough to temper the box. It was no longer radiating the same explosive chaos as before. So, she reasoned, she could afford a few extra breaths, a few minutes to let herself heal and regenerate. Maybe she could even allow herself a sip of water, a small snack¡­ Her thoughts trailed off. ¡°Momo,¡± she quietly prodded her clone. Her counterpart¡¯s eyes widened, surprised to be addressed. She nodded furiously. ¡°Yes?¡± ¡°Can you get me something?¡± ¡°Of course. What do you want?¡± ¡°I think there should be some dead insects in the pantry cabinet,¡± Momo said, sighing nostalgically. ¡°Just grab a handful.¡± Announcement - Book 1 Stubbing in 1 Week Hello!! It''s TIME! While I''m still on my short break, something very, very exciting is happening that I wanted to make sure you guys were aware of: Momo Book 1 is coming out April 16! You can either search for it on Amazon or follow one of the links in either Author''s Note comment, above or below. You can order it in Paperback, on Kindle, or on Audible, narrated by the FANTASTIC Anjali Bhimani, voice of Symmetra in Overwatch and Rampart in Apex Legends, as well as acting in Ms. Marvel and Critical Role. This is her first time narrating a fantasy series, and I''m so happy she chose Momo for that debut! This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. As such, Book 1 of Momo will be stubbing April 6th. All other books will still be available. 232 – They’re Still Worms It was just about when she swallowed down the third worm that it dawned on Momo just how much she had changed. Talking to her younger self had hinted at it¡ªbut the sheer lack of gag reflex, the way that she was appreciating the taste of the long-dead invertebrae, using words like aged and umami to describe it in her thoughts¡ªbrought it into dramatic focus. The realization made her stomach turn. Well, it was either that or the worms that did it, but one and the same. She and Other-Momo were spread out on the grass, two snow angels in a sea of dying weeds. She had gone in and out of freeing souls for the past hour. Taking it one soul at a time was a lot easier than pressing on through hundreds. It was like doing reps at the gym: thirty spread out over an hour was a lot less deadly than six hundred pushups back to back. ¡°You¡¯re disgusting,¡± her clone commented with clear revulsion, not even risking a glance in her direction. Her eyes were stuck to the sky, watching clouds. ¡°I can¡¯t believe you¡¯re eating worms. Real worms.¡± ¡°They¡¯re not real,¡± Momo said, chewing absentmindedly. ¡°They¡¯re made of Nether. They¡¯re basically gummy worms, except way more ethical. No melted horse parts.¡± ¡°They¡¯re still worms. It¡¯s just the principle of it.¡± ¡°Yeah, well,¡± Momo swallowed. ¡°I know you¡¯ve never experienced a world without a drive-thru McDonalds, but I have. It changes you. I haven¡¯t had a french fry in like a year and a half. Like¡ªI used to care so strongly about how the McDonalds one was superior to the Burger King one, it was such a strong subject for me¡ªnow I don¡¯t even remember what they taste like.¡± Her counterpart turned her head swiftly in the grass, staring at Momo with wide-eyed horror. ¡°But that¡¯s all I eat,¡± she informed her gravely. ¡°I don¡¯t even know where I¡¯d get my nutrients from otherwise. I haven¡¯t had an apple that wasn¡¯t cooked like a chicken and drenched in sugar in¡­ I don¡¯t know¡­ a decade? I don¡¯t believe there¡¯s a timeline where I just give up on fast food.¡± Momo frowned. ¡°Actually, fast food gives up on you,¡± she said after a moment, feeling like a fortune teller. She didn¡¯t have to read Momo¡¯s palms to give her that one for free. ¡°What is that supposed to mean?¡± ¡°You¡¯ll figure it out.¡± She picked up another worm off the ground. ¡°Actually, maybe you won¡¯t. Not if you take my advice¡ªdon¡¯t go to Upstate New York. It¡¯s not what you think it is.¡± Mallmart Momo scoffed. ¡°It¡¯s not trees, snow, and horrifically unsociable introverts like myself?¡± Momo rolled her eyes, then shrugged. ¡°Actually, it sounds like you¡¯ve got it all figured out.¡± She dangled a worm above her lips as her clone glared at her. ¡°Don¡¯t get all cocky, acting like you have it figured out. I don¡¯t care if you¡¯re eating worms now, it still doesn''t seem like you¡¯re doing any better than me. Like, where are your friends? Where¡¯s Mom and Dad?¡± The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. Momo froze, her skin crawling. She tossed the worm aside. Her attention turned instead to the box laying in the weeds near her forehead. It looked rather placid. Satiated. She took it in her hands regardless. ¡°I think it¡¯s acting up again¡­¡± she said, clearing her throat. She shook the box a little for good measure, and one singular ghastly scream escaped it. ¡°See? It¡¯ll probably ka-blow soon. I should free some more souls. Feel free to look away, go take a walk, whatever you need¡ª¡± Mallmart Momo crossed her arms stubbornly. ¡°You are so obviously ignoring the question.¡± ¡°Am not,¡± Momo refuted maturely. ¡°Are too.¡± Despite the tension, Momo couldn¡¯t help but feel a little amused. She had often wondered what it¡¯d be like to meet a clone of herself, because, who hadn¡¯t? But what surprised her the most was how different they felt¡ªhow at odds¡ªdespite their every atom being identical. It was so much easier to poke and prod at your own flaws once you saw them so vagrantly on display in another person. ¡°You¡¯re acting like Dae-hyun,¡± Momo replied. ¡°So nosy.¡± ¡°Oh, shove it.¡± The other girl laughed. ¡°No I¡¯m not. Neither of us could ever be that annoying.¡± They grinned at each other, teeth showing. Then, after a moment, Momo sighed. There was no hope in lying to yourself. ¡°I haven¡¯t seen them,¡± she confessed begrudgingly. When the other girl raised an eyebrow, she clarified. ¡°Mom and Dad. You¡¯re right, I don¡¯t visit. But I can¡¯t. They aren¡¯t in this world.¡± ¡°What do you mean, this world? Are you telling me you¡¯re some kind of space alien?¡± ¡°No, but¡ªugh¡ªobviously this isn¡¯t San Francisco.¡± ¡°Well obviously. But wait, I think I know where we are¡­¡± Mallmart Momo surveyed the space, eyes narrowing like a comic detective. ¡°Crumbling castles¡­ lack of parking lots¡­ Clean, unpolluted air¡­¡± She tapped her lips in thought. ¡°Am I allowed one question?¡± Momo laughed. ¡°I wasn¡¯t aware we were on a game show.¡± Her clone glared at her. ¡°Yes, fine, a question, of course,¡± Momo said. ¡°Does this place have universal healthcare?¡± Momo opened her mouth, then closed it. Then she laughed. Then she actually considered it. Alois did have healing spells, and Mana was sort of a built in capacity that everyone had¡­ so, kind of? ¡°Yes?¡± ¡°I knew it!¡± Clone-Momo threw a fist in the air. ¡°We¡¯re in Europe. I¡¯m not sure what part of Europe, but Nether sounds vaguely French, so maybe there.¡± ¡°Oh my god,¡± Momo groaned. ¡°You¡¯re so stupid.¡± ¡°Hey, that was rude.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but, Europe?¡± ¡°Okay, I don¡¯t know, Japan?¡± ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter,¡± Momo sighed, growing frustrated. ¡°I just can¡¯t see them, okay? Just drop it.¡± ¡°Can¡¯t, or won¡¯t? Planes exist, Momo. Even in Europe.¡± Momo chewed on her lip, her rebuttal dying in her throat. In all truth, despite being very, very off the mark, Clone-Mo wasn¡¯t entirely wrong. Momo was a dokkaebi now, a goddamn Nether Demon. She had friends like Azrael who flipped through universes like clothes in a catalog. Valerica was, in a sense, the literal Goddess of the Afterlife Department of Transportation. If she really wanted to, she could get to Earth. She knew that somewhere, deep down. ¡°I just can¡¯t,¡± she said, regardless. It emerged from her throat more of a choking sound than anything else. ¡°Now, I really need to get to this box, there¡¯s still so many souls left¡­¡± As she was reaching for the box, a peculiar looking cloud caught her attention. She had been so distracted by the conversation, she had failed to notice its rather startling appearance. While all the other clouds crept along the blue expanse, this one had rotated ninety degrees, just hanging there, oscillating from side to side like a pendulum. It was almost as if it was just dangling in the sky from an unseen wire, a puppet of a cloud that was no longer subject to the force of wind. Then, like a fisherman coming upon his prey, a hand emerged from the sky. It gripped the cloud full-fist. A terribly familiar female voice, booming like a volcano, followed. ¡°Gods¡ªof all places¡ªyou¡¯re sure that the Catwalk Communicator was pinging in here?¡± ¡°Absolutely, ma¡¯am,¡± came another voice. The valet. ¡°We¡¯ve got her.¡± 233 – The Valet Momo¡¯s first response was to run. She grabbed her clone by the wrist and shot straight back into the tower, pushing past the ghastly, lethargic souls that were splayed across the courtyard. None of them complained as she shoved them aside; their eyes were still sleepy slits, their mouths perpetually open in a neverending yawn. It was as if they were coming back to life in slow motion, sloths forced into costumes of human flesh. ¡°What was that voice in the sky?¡± Clone-Mo asked, obviously stressed as they flew into the Dawn¡¯s foyer. The place was empty of necromancers now; it was nearing mid-day, so the nocturnal adepts were fast asleep in their caskets. ¡°Should you be doing the hand signal now? This feels like a three-finger type situation. Or, maybe a four-finger one. The sky doesn¡¯t tend to rip open and start yelling at us in Mallmart.¡± Momo didn¡¯t reply as she came upon the treasury. It was the one room locked behind a skeleton key. As she suspected, she was able to use her Nether manipulation skills to unlock it swiftly, as it wasn¡¯t truly a skeleton key, in the same way that those worms she was snacking on weren¡¯t really worms. With a whisk of her fingers, it melted into goo, dripping onto the floor. The giant doors, painted with snakes and koi fish, yawned open. ¡°Like I¡¯ve been trying so far unsuccessfully to tell you, I brought you here for a reason,¡± Momo said as she closed the doors tightly behind them. As they clicked into place, all sound died behind them. It was utterly quiet in the treasure chamber, Momo¡¯s voice echoing off the tall cobblestone walls. ¡°And that reason has officially arrived.¡± Surrounding them was every kind of expensive trinket imaginable: gold coins, silver statuettes of dragons, polished skulls from various life forms. Momo had only been in here once before, early on in her time in Alois, when Valerica first gifted her Olivia Magelegs¡¯ heirloom. It looked mostly the same, except for one differentiating factor: in the far back of the room was another door, just as big as the one they came through. It had a giant stone bar running across it, so it was locked from the outside. That door definitely wasn¡¯t there before, back on Alois. If this were very different¡ªand considerably less dire¡ªcircumstances, her curiosity would have been consumed by it. Instead, she was spending her precious Mana crafting wings and horns out of Nether. She offered them to her clone, who eyed the offering dejectedly. ¡°You brought me here to¡­ have someone else to play dress up with?¡± her clone said, horrified as Momo handed her the wings. They had attached straps for her to sling her arms through. The horns were similarly sewn into a hairband. Despite the accessibility alterations, they were nearly visually identical to Momo¡¯s own, at least from a distance. ¡°That¡¯s really depressing, Momo. You seriously must have no friends.¡± ¡°I have friends,¡± she found herself saying, feeling defensive despite how ridiculously wrong the accusation was. ¡°Look, I need you to be my decoy, okay? Just pretend this is like one of those Mallmart security exercises.¡± ¡°Like the one where we pretend someone has a gun, and we¡¯re expected to protect the fifteen dollar yoga pants with our lives?¡± ¡°Exactly. Now, listen closely. Here¡¯s how this drill is going to go,¡± she said calmly, trying to hide her inner panic. She laid her hand on her clone¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Very soon, possibly in the next sixty seconds, a really frightening woman¡ªthink of her like a Mallmart Karen¡ªis going to get all up in your business. She¡¯ll probably say some pretty scary things. But this is just a drill. The moment she tries to hurt you, you¡¯ll be flung back to your world. Back to Earth.¡± Her clone processed this for a moment, before murmuring, ¡°so you are a space alien.¡± ¡°Momo.¡± Exasperated air spilled from her lips. ¡°Not the time.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯m just nervous. I¡¯ve never done a drill like this one before. What if I don¡¯t know what to say? What if I say the wrong thing? What if we don¡¯t have any sweatshirts in her size?¡± ¡°You¡¯ll do okay, I promise. Just buy me some time, alright?¡± Something like an earthquake struck the ground, and the tower began to rumble. The floor shook; small stones dislodged from the ceiling and rained down on top of them. Clone-Mo squatted onto the floor and flung her arms protectively over her head, terrified. She started shaking her head definitely back and forth. This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it ¡°I can¡¯t do it, Momo,¡± she cried. ¡°I¡¯m going to let you down.¡± Momo flourished her wings to protect them both, the sharp pebbles bouncing off of black feathers. She got to Momo¡¯s level and wrapped both of her arms around the girl, squeezing tight. It was an unnatural sensation, comforting herself. ¡°Yes, you can,¡± she said softly. We both can, she thought. Thunder rumbled so loudly that it could be heard through the treasury¡¯s deafening doors. Momo looked down at her bracelet¡ªthe Catwalk Communicator that had been her essential conduit to Azrael, and which was now leading Sera straight towards her¡ªand undid the latch tying it to her wrist. She reached for her clone¡¯s arm. ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± Clone-Mo sniffled. ¡°Some kind of weird alien watch?¡± ¡°It¡¯s a present,¡± Momo said, smiling. ¡°Something to remember this moment by. Keep it safe, okay? Don¡¯t let Luna eat it. It¡¯ll give her indigestion.¡± Her twin nodded. With a parting smile, Momo headed for the curious back door. ¡°Do I have to go back out there for the exercise?¡± Mall-Mo asked ruefully. ¡°This place is nice. Dark. Cozy. I¡¯d rather stay here.¡± ¡°That¡¯s fine,¡± she replied, heaving the stone bar upwards. She pushed open the door ever-slightly, to survey the outside. To her surprise, it led directly into the forest bordering the Dawn. There was a rugged path of dirt through the trees, and no Sera in sight. ¡°Just remember to use your customer service voice. That¡¯ll drive her crazy.¡± ¡°Okay, boss.¡± Huddled on the floor, Clone-Mo gave her a small salute. Momo grinned widely. As the building rumbled again, Momo passed through the door, and shut it firmly behind her. Then she started running. She didn¡¯t even crane her neck to check if Sera was on her tail. From the sounds she heard from inside the Dawn, she was sure the woman was already busy ransacking the corridors in search of her, and she¡¯d locate Momo¡¯s twin soon enough. She sprinted, and the forest enveloped her¡ªa soft caress of pine needles and oak trees. As she neared the replicant area¡¯s boundary, the trees¡¯ once-green leaves began to shimmer black. Plants faded in and out of existence. She ran and ran until she hit a hard, invisible wall, until everything was calm and black, and then she looked upwards towards the sky. She could still see smudges of blue through the treetops. She couldn¡¯t stay here. That was for certain. She¡¯d exit this bubble and find somewhere safe to free the remaining souls, and then she¡¯d be done with this. Sera¡¯s plan would be dead on arrival. It was time for one last escape. She flourished her wings. They tore through leaves, branches, and finally, clouds, until the Dawn was just a speck of cobblestone dust. ¡ª When she opened her eyes, she was back in the black. The in-between zone. And of course, there was her stupid Yaris. ¡°Stupid Yaris,¡± she couldn¡¯t help but repeat aloud, addressing the car as if it was an unfortunate rival. ¡°I wish something more useful would spawn here instead.¡± ¡°Oh, my my. Seems you¡¯re in luck, then¡± A sweet, seductive voice like an ice-cold milkshake echoed from behind her. She whipped her head around, only to be met with the end of a black umbrella. All the muscles in her face went rigid. She recognized that umbrella. It was the valet¡¯s umbrella. Sera¡¯s valet. She stifled the gasp in her throat. Of course. Sera knew better than to leave an exit unguarded. ¡°I don¡¯t think we¡¯ve actually been acquainted in-person, you and I.¡± Momo reached for her rapier. The umbrella shuttered, and a form flickered behind it. All she could see was a face¡ªa slim, gaunt face, protruding from the darkness. It had three eyes: one blue, one red, one yellow, and a thin-lipped, serpentine grin. ¡°Come on, no screams? No humiliating pleas of mercy?¡± he said, tossing the umbrella aside. It began floating in space towards her Yaris. ¡°You must recognize me, don¡¯t you? After all, you¡¯re one of my favorite disciples.¡± The figure stepped closer, his physical form revealing itself to her [Eye of the Nether Demon]. He was a creature of two distinct halves: on the right side of his body, he had one leg and one arm, of about average human length and width, and was dressed in all white. Conversely, the left portion of his body was completely shrouded in dark rippling smoke. ¡°I¡­ one of your disciples?¡± Momo trailed off. A sensation of foreboding crept up her neck. Just who is this guy? ¡°No bells ringing, sorry.¡± His grin shuttered into a scowl. ¡°Fine, then. Courier.¡± He snapped his fingers in the air. ¡°Why don¡¯t you inform her?¡± A piece of parchment flickered into existence in front of her eyes. There was a single line of information written on it.
Deity Warning! You have been visited by Mordecai, God of Thievery and Deception.
Momo all but fainted. Seeing her pale expression, the man¡¯s grin returned. ¡°There¡¯s no way,¡± she stuttered, finding her voice after several light-headed seconds. ¡°I¡ªI heard Sera beating up the valet inside the Viper. Beating you up. The guy with the dark umbrella. There would be no way she¡¯d pummel a literal god like that. You have to be lying.¡± ¡°Oh, him?¡± Mordecai laughed. He raised his hand, and dark magic began to bubble like boiling water in his palm. ¡°Well, the dead man was hardly using his umbrella.¡± 234 – Mordecai The next thing Momo knew, she was on the edge of a cliff. She screamed, a rock giving way, then felt stupid as she remembered her wings. They flapped easily, and she backed away from the cliff¡¯s edge. Steadying her breath, she took in her new surroundings. From what she could tell, she was far above the clouds, on some sort of floating island. Beyond the cliffside, there was nothing for miles and miles¡ªonly the night sky, painted with dazzling stars. ¡°Oh gods, where am I now?¡± Moments before, she had been facing down the God of Deception. She recalled him beginning to cast some sort of magic¡ªa type of illusory magic, perhaps?¡ªand now she was here. She turned her head towards the center of the island. An ivory castle awaited her there, surrounded on all sides by winding, twirling obsidian stairways. Stairways which defied the natural laws of physics, swirling in endless circles like the tracks of a roller coaster. Not only were they inconceivably designed, but they didn¡¯t seem to be leading towards any discernible door, either. Momo¡¯s art-major brain pinged Escher as a definitive influence. Perched on the stairs¡¯ railings were these peculiar looking ravens; their heads were the same sort of feathered black of Momo¡¯s wings, but their bodies were as white as snow. This high contrast palette seemed to be a favorite of Mordecai¡¯s: the blackest black and the purest white. For a God of Deception, it was all rather obvious. Momo¡¯s jaw clenched. Mordecai. Was this his lair? Momo didn¡¯t care to find out. Instead, she dug into her pocket. Her body tensed. The box was gone. Shit. Had Sera taken it? Was that who was awaiting her inside? It seemed likely, given the partnership between the two of them. Yet something told Momo she wasn¡¯t here. This wasn¡¯t Sera¡¯s style, leaving her to her own devices like this. Her style was a bit more forceful: as in, grabbing Momo by the collar and violently throwing her through the endless multiverses back to Alois, explosive Wraith Box in tow. ¡°Fuck it. Fine,¡± Momo groaned. ¡°I¡¯m coming in.¡± She chose one of the staircases at random and began to ascend. She was surprised to find that her body didn¡¯t mind the shift in gravitation at all. She followed the curvature of the stairs with ease, doing several loop-de-loops as she gripped the railing. The birds squawked at her and pecked at her wings as she passed. Finally, after what felt like an hour of mindless walking, a door appeared out of thin air. It was one of those annoying talking ones, because of course it was. ¡°I have a riddle,¡± the door said. ¡°Do you have an answer?¡± ¡°Shut up.¡± Momo clenched her jaw. ¡°I don¡¯t have time for this.¡± ¡°That is incorrect!¡± ¡°How about this. You let me in, or I chop you in half?¡± ¡°That is incorrect!¡± Momo rolled her eyes, grabbed her rapier, and sliced her blade straight clean through the black wood. Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. ¡°Correct! Violence is always the answer!¡± the door announced giddily as it glued itself back together. Momo¡¯s jaw dropped in disbelief. ¡°Seriously?¡± The door didn¡¯t honor her with any further explanation, so she just grabbed the doorknob, twisted it, and thrust forward. A scene was then revealed to her that would have driven any sensible scientist to psychosis. It was a room that was inside of itself, kind of like seeing a person with their skin turned inside out. There were doors halfway up the walls, stairways which ended mid-air then resumed in the ceiling. Paintings which only existed in your peripheral vision. It was also completely devoid of color¡ªsave one thing in specific: a throne. It sat in the middle of the room. It was flush with furs, crimson fox pelts and yellow bird feathers. It reminded Momo of the color of Mordecai¡¯s eyes. Of course, that was because those very eyes were staring at her from all angles. The room was littered with them: eyes on the walls like spotted wallpaper, eyes on the dressers in place of knobs. Momo tilted her neck upwards, checking for eyes on the ceiling. Only there was no ceiling. The tower seemed to go on forever. It climbed on and on, an endless stack of ivory illusion. And at the very top, watching everything like a panotopican, was one last giant eyeball. It had three distinct pupils¡ªred, white, yellow¡ªpinned to her very position. The sight of it, veiny and enormous, sent a shiver down her spine. The door slapped shut behind her, then dissipated. No way out, then. Momo steeled herself as a plume of dark black smoke collected around the throne. The smoke turned to face her, and revealed itself to be just half of one whole. Mordecai. The god grinned widely, half his grin vanishing into smoke. ¡°Hi there, darling. Come closer, won¡¯t you?¡± Tempering her nerves, Momo obliged him. She opted to fly, not walk, as walking didn¡¯t seem to get her anywhere in this treadmill of a house. Everything shifted subtly as she moved, the dimensions of the walls subtly scaling with every flap of her wings. Mordecai was the only thing to stay static, even as his throne grew larger then smaller again. ¡°You know,¡± he said, perching his chin on his fist. ¡°You are the first of my disciples that I could ever entertain with a home visit. The first mortal ever to enter the Chateau of Shifting Realities. Do you feel honored, Momo?¡± Momo swallowed. She had no idea what the playbook was when talking to the God of Deceit. Bluffing seemed like a stupid idea, but telling the truth felt nearly insulting. She had to rethink her conventional table manners. ¡°Honored would be one word for it,¡± she said. ¡°I can think of others, too.¡± His grin widened. ¡°What word would you choose?¡± ¡°Surprising,¡± she said. ¡°Oh?¡± This seemed to delight him. ¡°Do elaborate.¡± ¡°I¡¯m surprised to see you here alone,¡± she said, not that she could really be sure. She could hardly trust her own eyes. ¡°I thought you and Sera were working together.¡± ¡°That¡¯s quite presumptuous. Can¡¯t a god and a goddess scheme in the same direction without being called conspirators?¡± He snapped his fingers, and the Wraith Box appeared mid-air, twirling in space just above his palm. Momo¡¯s impulse was to grab it, but she restrained herself. It was like he could read her mind, because he laughed. ¡°Oh, you¡¯d really like that back, wouldn¡¯t you?¡± She didn¡¯t dignify that with an answer. ¡°So you¡¯re not working together?¡± she responded instead, careful to be exact with her words. ¡°I was on the ship with your Excalibur, Kami. I know you¡¯ve been amassing those¡­ Wraith Artifacts. Presumably in this effort to overthrow Morgana, like the rest of the pantheon.¡± ¡°Presumably,¡± he said, widening all three of his eyes. ¡°Dangerous word. I am amassing the Wraith Artifacts. True.¡± Just one of his eyes blinked, the red one. ¡°But not for any political reason. Only as a hobby.¡± He grinned. ¡°You see, after Sera relayed this whole plan of hers, and everyone else in the pantheon, the daft idiots that they are, joined in with hoo¡¯s and ha¡¯s, I, in my skeptical solitude, discovered something most curious.¡± Momo found herself leaning closer as he spoke, hanging on his every word. His voice was so melodious, so oddly seductive. Like a perfectly tuned piano. ¡°I unearthed Sera¡¯s true plan,¡± he said casually. ¡°The one she so conveniently kept private from her little god-lackeys.¡± The room stopped turning. Momo immediately got whiplash, and her next words came out clumsily from her mouth. ¡°What is it?¡± ¡°Oh, you¡¯d love to know,¡± he teased, raising his eyebrows provocatively. He stood from his chair, and the room tumbled forward. Staircases rearranged, drawers fell out of their cases, doors caved in on themselves. Momo found herself doing somersaults through space, a jumble of feathers and limbs, unable to control her velocity¡ªbefore Mordecai caught her by the wrist. His fingers gripped her; his terrifying face loomed just above hers. ¡°I have an offer to make you, Momo the Ripper.¡± AMAZON RELEASE TIME ! Hello everyone! Today, I''m excited to announce that my first book, Momo the Ripper (the series is called the Lighter Side of Darkness on Amazon) is finally available through Kindle & Audible! I really can¡¯t believe this is happening - it¡¯s kind of surreal. But if it wasn¡¯t for the support you guys have given me and the story, it wouldn¡¯t be happening. I¡¯ve really read every single comment that has been posted on this story. I pour over every single review. I take the positive and the negative feedback in equal regard ¨C all of it has been invaluable to me. What Momo means to you is what has pushed me to write almost 4 entire books, so yeah: this is for you guys. This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. So.. let¡¯s go! In order to make the launch successful, I have one quick favor to ask if you¡¯ve enjoyed the series. It won¡¯t take more than a minute. Female lead series tend to struggle when compared to male lead series on Amazon, so every single rating and review helps combat that. And the great thing is, you don¡¯t have to purchase the book on Amazon to leave a rating or review. You can just click on the link, scroll down, select a star rating, and you¡¯re done! All in a few seconds! Ratings and reviews make a huge difference in the success of a launch. They help new readers decide to take a chance on a book. So any help matters. Alright, that¡¯s enough from me. New chapter coming later today. THANK YOU!!! 235 – Mordecais Offer ¡°A¨Can offer?¡± ¡°Sit.¡± A chair which seemingly generated from nowhere and nothing appeared underneath her. She found herself collapsing into it, hands falling in her lap. She was so nauseous it was hard to do anything else. She couldn¡¯t tell if the world was spinning anymore, or if the part of her cortex responsible for perception had just given up trying. But her brain knew one thing. An offer from the God of Deceit was a poisoned apple. And Momo wasn¡¯t very fond of food poisoning. ¡°First, I will give you this bit for free,¡± Mordecai said with a grin. ¡°Just because I like you so much.¡± He splayed out his fingers, and a playing card appeared beneath them. He caught it between two fingers and flipped it around to face her. It was a One of Hearts, with a dagger painted on the front. She recognized the subject of the illustration immediately¡ªit was the Soul Splitting Dagger. The one Kami and Kasula had taken from Zephyra. The last of the Wraith Artifacts. He placed the card face up in Momo¡¯s lap. ¡°There are several ways you could have solved your Wraith Box problem. One of them was sitting in your lap the whole way back on your little voyage,¡± he said, licking his lips. ¡°Oh, it was so tantalizing¡ªwatching you hold victory so closely¡ªyet you ignored it, gave it away like a common poker chip, so blissfully unaware! All because you clung like a child to your morals.¡± He cackled. Momo¡¯s heart sunk in her chest. No¡­ He¡¯s bluffing. As if he was reading her thoughts, he shook his head. ¡°I was only collecting the artifacts in order to help you. To guide you. I told Sera I was collecting them in a show of loyalty, but really, I was doing it for my own divine pleasure. I presented you with a delicious crossroads: betray your friends, betray my dear Kami, and claim the artifact as your own. If you were to study it, to learn its true nature, you would have discovered that it could cut into the very fiber of the Wraith Box, releasing all the souls back into oblivion.¡± Momo¡¯s face went as white as sheet paper. ¡°You don¡¯t mean¡­¡± ¡°Yes,¡± he said, pupils dilating. ¡°You could have ended it all right there and then, Momo. But you refused what I was offering you. You refused my path. It¡¯s a shame, really. I would have made you my next Excalibur. You were so, so close. But you didn¡¯t want to hurt the feelings of your dear friends. You didn¡¯t want them to hate you. Ah, hate. It¡¯s such a delicate emotion with you humans.¡± Momo¡¯s chest tightened, emotion overwhelming her. There she had been, lecturing her younger self on being brave, on not caring what others thought of you, and yet her own failure to do had cost her months of tireless effort. Weeks and weeks of living in fear that the box would activate. To think she could have solved it so simply. She shook her head. It was useless to dwell. This was what he wanted¡ªfor her to start doubting herself. A classic gaslighting tactic. There was no way she could have known just how useful the dagger was. Even if she had kept it, she might never have risked disposing of the box that way. It left too many factors unknown. No. He was simply playing with his food. Momo had to keep her emotions on a tight leash. ¡°But it¡¯s no matter,¡± he said, shrugging. ¡°I found another use for the dagger. For the whole set, actually. My other hobby, as it turns out, is terrorizing my terrible brother. Neculai. He has gained a very important new prodigy in Vivienne, a veritable Excalibur-to-be, and I just couldn¡¯t let that come to pass. No-can-do.¡± Momo¡¯s blood ran cold, then warmed up with a fury. ¡°What did you do?¡± she said, rising from her chair. ¡°What did you do to Vivienne?¡± He whisked his hands up defensively. ¡°Nothing! Not me, I¡¯m not the guilty party here. I simply offered the Wraith Artifacts as a gift to Sera¡¯s little Holy Resistance. I heard Vivienne¡¯s sister was enlisted in that, hm? And so if the dagger ended up in her hands, and she were to take it into battle with her sister¡­¡± He giggled, then sighed pleasantly. ¡°I can¡¯t say for sure what will happen. All I know¡ªall I ever know¡ªis that I have increased the odds of something interesting happening. That¡¯s all. And I am nothing if I am not a slave to the interesting.¡± Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. He clapped his hands together as Momo¡¯s blood boiled. ¡°Now, enough about what didn¡¯t come to pass. Let¡¯s talk about the now.¡± He plucked the Wraith Box from the air and held it directly in front of Momo¡¯s eyes. It was so close she could hear the faint, somber sounds of the souls entrapped within. They were calling to her like a newborn to a mother. Ugh. Now even she was using the stupid birth metaphors. Clone-Mo had gotten in her head. ¡°Here¡¯s my offer. It¡¯s another win-win for you, by the way,¡± he said, quirking his head at an unnatural angle, so his face was sitting ninety degrees from his neck. ¡°I want you to free the souls in this box using that neat ability of yours. In exchange, I will tell you what Sera¡¯s real plan is, and how you can defeat her.¡± Momo blinked at him. ¡°Wait, what?¡± That was no deal at all. ¡°I told you!¡± he said, sensing her skepticism. He rolled his three eyes. ¡°You only stand to benefit. You do what you set out to do¡ªfree those damned souls¡ªand you also find out what Sera is cooking. If I were you, I¡¯d accept quickly. Deals this good tend to have a short shelf life.¡± He tapped his wrist, and although there was no watchface there, a metronomic clicking began to echo throughout the tower. The shadow of a watch¡¯s hand fell over the room. Despite not seeing any numbers, Momo knew it was a timer. A finite number of clicks until an uncertain end. ¡°What¡¯s the catch?¡± Momo said aggressively, throwing manners to the wayside. She was so tired of mind games. ¡°You¡¯re the God of Deceit, and you¡¯re offering me a deal. This is classic Eve in the Garden of Eden behavior. I might be a fragile mortal, but I¡¯m not stupid.¡± He rolled his eyes. ¡°Gosh, Momo, you can be so exhausting. There¡¯s no catch. Look.¡± He tossed the Wraith Box to her, and she grabbed it out of the air. ¡°There,¡± he said, raising his eyebrows. ¡°Nice catch.¡± They just stared at each other for a moment, the shadow clock clicking. On the third click, the catch dawned on her. This wasn¡¯t a deal. This was a setup. ¡°You¡¯re no better than the rest of the pantheon, are you?¡± she whispered. He raised an eyebrow, egging her on. ¡°You¡¯re just smarter.¡± ¡°Oh, the flattery,¡± he laughed. ¡°I¡¯d say it won¡¯t get you anywhere, but it will. Do go on.¡± She shook her head, her teeth gritting. ¡°The offer Sera made all the others. The one that Jarva told me about¡ªthat each god that aided her would receive a split of the mortal souls.¡± She looked down at the pulsing box in her hand, then back at Mordecai, his paper-thin lips plastered in a toothy grin. ¡°If I free the remaining souls right here, in your domain, you will have gotten exactly what she promised, and more. You¡¯d win all the spoils. Those souls would be stuck here forever, with you.¡± ¡°Sounds like a sweet deal to me,¡± Mordecai said, positively beaming. ¡°The other gods are such bores. But me? Oh, those souls would have a rollicking good time.¡± Momo didn¡¯t share his grin. After a moment, his smile dropped. ¡°Alright. You¡¯ve got me. Ha-ha. But is that really so bad, Momo? I will look after them just as I have looked after you, after Radu and Kami. I cultivate mischief¡ªyes¡ªbut I am no Sera. I am the lesser evil, as you humans love to say.¡± He made a flourishing motion with his hand and three more playing cards emerged. They had faces on them; faces Momo had never seen before. Some of them were human-looking, but most of them were monstrous, or just plain weird. ¡°And while I appreciate your respect for my intellect,¡± he said, flicking the cards in the air. They held there, spinning leisurely like toys on a rotating stand. ¡°The word you were looking for¡ªwhat differentiates me from them¡ªis, in fact, serendipity. The ability to be at the right place at the right time. None of my compatriots actually believe that Sera will make good on this plan of hers, of course, they aren¡¯t full-out idiots. But they just don¡¯t have my knack for timing.¡± Scissors floated through the air and rapidly started tearing at the cards, which Momo came to understand, in that moment, were the faces of the other gods of the pantheon. Even as their expressions were chopped up into slivers of paper, their visages lingered in Momo¡¯s memory. She desperately hoped that she¡¯d never have to face them outside the context of a playing card. ¡°So, Momo,¡± he said. ¡°Make the easy choice. Make the right choice. Free these souls, and put them in responsible hands. Er, hand.¡± He smiled cheekily. ¡°I won¡¯t harm a hair on their little heads. Promise.¡± He looked at her with a powerful longing. A sweet, caring thing. For a moment, it nearly felt genuine. In the same way that you could stare in jaw-dropping awe at a knockoff Mona Lisa, Momo locked eyes with Mordecai and felt that full-body prick of goosebumps. She gazed down at the Wraith Box in her hands and wondered¡­ No. I¡¯ve come this far. She looked back up, gaze steely. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but¡­ I¡¯m not interested.¡± She began to float backwards, away from him. But there was that treadmill feeling again. No matter how much farther she felt like she flew, he stayed the exact same distance away. She was effectively frozen in stasis. ¡°Oh, well that¡¯s too bad. But it makes no difference, does it? You can¡¯t run, darling. I¡¯m a god,¡± he laughed maniacally. ¡°A god! And you¡¯re just a small, insignificant mortal. Or did you forget that? Here, let me remind you.¡± He snapped his fingers, and Momo was suddenly in a box. A tight, white box. A solitary confinement cell. She grabbed her chest, her heart jumping. All around her were those eyes again, watching and blinking. ¡°Try escaping!¡± his maniacal laughter echoed all around her. ¡°It¡¯s okay, I¡¯m happy to wait a millenia, or few. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll come around by then.¡± 236 – Violence is Always the Answer! Momo scowled. She didn¡¯t have time for this. Not only did she have the box to deal with, but Mordecai had made her very aware of the dire straits she had left her queendom in. If Nia really did have access to the Wraith Artifact Set, and Vivienne the Set of Blood Immortality, the combined effects, when at odds, could be cataclysmic. Her blood ran cold to imagine Sumire caught in the middle of it all. That image filled her with a new rush of adrenaline. She was going to get out of here. Sure, he was a god. But Momo had been Valerica¡¯s apprentice for over a year now, and no one¡ªeven the God of Deceit¡ªdid mind games like the master. Alright. She looked around her. The walls were white and dimpled, like old painted stone. But that didn¡¯t matter. This was the Nether. And she was a Nether Demon. And more importantly, before any of that, she had a teleportation spell. ¡°[Rift Hands ¨C Create Portal].¡± The portal manifested before her, but as she leaned towards her to enter it, it became infinitesimally small. She clenched her jaw annoyedly, clawing desperately at the thing as it dissipated into nothingness. It was that same irking phenomenon from before: every time she so much as moved the length of an eyelash, the room¡¯s dimensions would readjust. The normal-size portal became the size of a molecule. ¡°Damn it.¡± Okay. Back up plan. She awakened her [Eye of the Nether Demon]. Closing her mortal eyes, the mystic eye revealed what she knew to be true: there were no stone walls confining her, simply shimmering rectangular constructs of Nether. She made a dragging motion with her hand in an attempt to melt them, just as she had done with the skeleton key, and¡­ it worked. They melted, bubbling into pools of black. She could see the rest of Mordecai¡¯s domain again. She seemed to have been teleported right below his throne, because when she craned her neck up, she could see the tips of his heeled boots, the raw red of his decorative furs. He was sitting upon her cage like a lion tamer, paying her no mind. Despite Momo¡¯s obvious success, he was suspiciously quiet. She frowned. Has he not noticed? It didn¡¯t matter. Ruse or no ruse, she kept her eyes trained on the ever-shifting castle, trying to pin down the few objects that remained static. There we go, she thought, noticing a door about halfway up the eastern wall. It was ajar, revealing a cloudy expanse. If she could make it through that door, she could make it out of Mordecai¡¯s domain, and she¡¯d be free again¡ªback in the inbetween zone. As a bonus, she had lost the Catwalk Communicator, so any chance of Sera tracking her down once she was out would be slim. Taking a silent breath in, she took a step forward. Slap. Her face collided with white rock. The walls of her prison had immediately catapulted back around her, shooting higher than they had even before. ¡°Tisk tisk,¡± he teased, bending his neck down to look at her. ¡°Thought you had figured out my puzzle, hmm? I give your attempt a five out of ten. Nether Manipulation is an admirably tricky ability, but you¡¯ll find it¡¯s awfully useless in my chateau. Every step you take will lead you into a world of further obscurity.¡± She fell to the ground, her head pounding. Even if the walls weren¡¯t really stone, they sure felt like it. A prick of hopelessness gnawed at her. This place was like quicksand¡ªevery move only ensnared her more deeply. What if there was no getting out? She hated to consider the deal Mordecai offered her, but he was right. Leaving the souls here would at least be better than handing them over to Sera. There was no telling what she had planned for them. I can¡¯t believe I¡¯m even considering this. Valerica would be severely disappointed to know the thought even crossed her mind. She was better than this¡ªshe was Momo the Ripper¡ªshe didn¡¯t need to move to defeat an enemy. Lord knows she had felled quite a few while taking a nap. All she needed to do was focus. Not literally, of course. That was impossible. ¡°[Focus],¡± she murmured. ¡°What was that?¡± Mordecai said, hearing her murmur to herself. ¡°Giving up already?¡± Ignoring him, Momo¡¯s whipcrack of a magically-enhanced mind evaluated her options. Like a ticking roulette wheel, it eventually settled on [Nether Displacement]. Even if she couldn¡¯t destroy the instantly-reforming walls, making herself impervious to them could be her ticket out. She whispered the spell to herself and looked down at her hands to see it take effect. Just as she hoped, the Nether around her forearms began to glitter. Not wanting to risk what was possibly her only opportunity to take him by surprise, she abandoned her routine of careful steps and jumped suddenly from the floar, soaring upwards, wings batting feverishly. A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. This time, even when the wall rose to stop her, there was no concussive contact between her skull and stone. Her body just floated through the barrier easily, Nether swimming through Nether. Yes! She grinned. She flew with reckless abandon, ever-shifting stairways blowing past her peripheral. She could see the door coming closer. At least, that¡¯s how it felt at first. But the seconds dragged on, and despite the constant movement of the things around her¡ªshelves popping in and out of existence, rugs flying through the air¡ªthe door was still as far away as it had been before. She was still swimming against the current and making no waves. Damn it. ¡°How rude.¡± She looked down to see Mordecai staring right up at her. He had risen from his throne. His good-natured smile had fallen, replaced with a grimacing frown. ¡°If the instructions weren¡¯t clear, you were to stay in that cage, think very hard about the wonderful deal I¡¯ve offered you, and then come to the only sensible conclusion,¡± he said venomously. ¡°What you were not supposed to do is to escape. You are a mortal, I am a god, and mortals are meant to follow orders.¡± He took a breath in, leveling himself. ¡°Not that it matters. I can do this all day.¡± He snapped his fingers again, and she was back in another box. Only this one was much smaller. It was more of a tomb, a white casket with the lid firmly sealed. Her anxiety spiked for a second thinking she¡¯d die of asphyxiation. But, of course, that was just Mordecai¡¯s delusions playing tricks on her. There was no oxygen in the Nether to begin with. She¡¯d sooner die of a sanity deficiency. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to insult you,¡± Momo mumbled. ¡°But if it isn¡¯t obvious, I¡¯m not interested.¡± Casting [Nether Displacement] again, she sat up in the coffin, her head floating through the lid. He scowled, snapping his fingers again. Seconds later, she was in another confined box, spike-laden walls closing in on her from every direction. She floated through them, and then through the next room, and the next room, until he let out a sharp, annoyed huff. ¡°You are grating me, Momo.¡± ¡°I¡¯m grating you? You¡¯re the one who just tried to put me in a blender.¡± ¡°Simply metaphorically,¡± he grumbled. He began to pace back and forth, running his hand anxiously through the black mop of smoke that trailed to his left. When Momo opened her mouth to retort, his head snapped in her direction, an atypical fury surging in his three pupils. ¡°Silence,¡± he said. ¡°If I hear another noise out of you, I will find a way to blend your very atoms out of existence.¡± She opened her mouth, then closed it. This was an opportunity, she realized. She had taken the God of Deceit off his A-Game using her most tried and true tactic: being annoying. And as such, he was too distracted to notice that he had left her unconfined. She was simply sitting a few feet behind him on the floor, with a full view of the entire villa. And best of all, she had noticed something. The tower, as she had noted before, was brimming with eyes. Each room she had been teleported into had a variety of watching eyeballs plastered over the walls. And when she accidentally fumbled and tripped over them¡ªnudging them in the sockets¡ªMordecai would always make some sort of idle complaining sound. One time, he had even winced. She suspected it was giving him some sort of migraine. It¡¯s a vulnerability. It weakens his control. Testing her theory, she raised her hand in the air slowly. Adrenaline filled her fingertips as she noticed that the tower¡¯s typically-frenetic household objects were moving at a much slower pace. Stairways were groaning about at the speed of snails. The feathers and furs floated languidly. Of course, they were still moving, but she was definitely getting somewhere. She stifled an excited smile. She couldn¡¯t tip him off. She needed to plan a very precise move that would push him over the edge. A move that would constrain his ability, even for just one single second, to keep his magic stable. That would be enough to dull the effects of the shifting house; it would be enough to escape. She craned her head upwards, and that¡¯s when the idea hit her. Victory was glaring right back at her. Just as Momo had noticed when she first entered Mordecai¡¯s palace, there was, at the very tip of the infinite tower of white, a giant eyeball. A three-pupilled eyeball. She hadn¡¯t thought much of it at first¡ªit seemed like just the kind of illusion he¡¯d create to give visitors a sense of unease¡ªbut looking at it now, it was like witnessing a beautifully wrapped present. A cornea-shaped golden opportunity. But how do I reach it? If this were any other place, she¡¯d simply fly to it and strike it. But seeing how far up it was, that would be impossible. She could try launching an [Abyssal Blast], or a [Nether Fireball]. She had any manner of attacks fit for a giant, unmoving object. But she couldn¡¯t judge how far away the eyeball really was, so there was no telling if those spells had the reach to hit it. And if they fizzled mid-way, Mordecai would notice, and Momo¡¯s single opportunity for victory would vanish. She needed to decide her skill of choice very carefully. ¡°What to do with you, what to do with you¡­¡± As Momo¡¯s mind churned, Mordecai¡¯s pacing came to a halt. He was fixing Momo with a stare now, and it sent a chill down her spine. His happy-go-lucky nature was all but dead. A coin had flipped, and it had landed on something quite dour. ¡°I think I¡¯ve decided,¡± he said breathlessly. ¡°If you won¡¯t free the souls in the box, I will break it open myself. I was very much hoping to do this humanely with your assistance, so as to avoid any accidental nuclear-type effects, but you¡¯ve left me with no other choice. I can¡¯t risk the others getting their hands on it first.¡± His three eyes spun around his face like a fidget spinner, and he began to stalk towards Momo. ¡°The treasure will be mine. Now, hand it over.¡± Shit. She had no other choice but to act. Luckily, his monologue had given her enough time to decide exactly what skill was required. There was only one option. She grabbed her rapier and flung it upward. ¡°[Infinite Blade of the Nether Demon]!¡± His face paled as the blade shot upwards, an infinite streak of black ink. It pierced the iris in seconds, bursting through retina. Mordecai screamed, falling to his knee in anguish. The black smoke that hid half of his body dissipated in a rush, revealing the grotesque picture beneath¡ªa skeleton constructed of purely eyes, hundreds of them, all gazing in different directions, all blinking back sympathetic tears. ¡°You!¡± he screeched, raising a trembling hand towards her. His body heaved as he spoke, anguish pouring over him. ¡°You would be nothing without me, nothing, and you dare¡ªoh, I will grind you to dust, to inconsolable pebbles of pain¡ªI will make Morgana regret ever taking you in, you ratty, greedy little mouse of a mortal¡ª¡± But Momo was already at the doorway. She looked back for only a moment to take in his true form. She shuttered, bit her lip, and then took to the skies. 237 – The Wonders of Spell Check As Momo popped out of Mordecai¡¯s domain, she found herself in the absolute cherry pit of the Nether. Hundreds upon hundreds of little Nether bubbles surrounded her. Tiny snow globes brimming with life. Well, afterlife. It was an overwhelming amount of options. But she just needed to pick one¡ªjust one¡ªand make it count. There was no more time. There was no more running. Congratulations! As it turns out, violence is always the answer! And stabbing eyeballs, apparently. For outmaneuvering a, in Mordecai¡¯s words, ¡°literal god,¡± you have reached level 3 in Nether Demon (Purified Variant). You have gained the skill [Replicant Area ¡ª Create]: A spell which exists in opposition to the default Nether Demon skill, [Replicant Area ¡ª Destroy], this skill allows you to create a replicant area. System dialogues with further information will follow once you use this skill. This skill can only be used three times, so spend wisely. ¡°Holy shit,¡± Momo mumbled. ¡°This is perfect.¡± She could, of course, just jump into one of the other myriad worlds surrounding her, but she couldn¡¯t be certain of what would be waiting inside them. At the very least, Sera¡¯s Nether policemen would be heavily surveilling the area. And if they spotted her, Sera would follow soon behind. But if she could craft her own replicant area¡­ Then she could create a safe haven for the souls, with no police jurisdiction. Just a place for them to thrive, unbothered. Like they were always meant to. She didn¡¯t give it any more thought. She cast the spell, and as promised, several more pieces of parchment spawned in front of her. Area to replicate?* * This place must exist inside Morgana¡¯s domain. (For a list of planets and universes inside Morgana¡¯s domain, please see a System Customer Service Portal.) This area also must be approximately the size of a town square, a small village, or roughly 120 attached living rooms. You cannot, for example, write Africa, which is a continent, although many mortals seem unaware of this fact. You can however specify a specific address in Cape Town, and we¡¯ll try our best. ¡°An address? That¡¯s so specific.¡± Momo knew very few addresses. There was her childhood home, her dorm¡ªwhich she only knew because she¡¯d regularly order packages from Amazon instead of leaving the house¡ªand the run-down pharmacy where she¡¯d regularly pick up her ADHD medication. She had been hoping to create a replicant area which mirrored something vague but cozy, like a little Christmas village, but she didn¡¯t exactly know any addresses in rural Switzerland. ¡°Ugh, I don¡¯t have time for this.¡± She took her quill and hastily wrote down the pharmacy address. 83 Sherman Rd, Albny, USA Spelling error in original entry detected. ¡°Aw damn it,¡± Momo said, noticing it immediately. She had left out the second a in Albany. She went to fix it, holding up her quill, but the paper had already disappeared, another dialogue box appearing in place of it. The A.I. Spelling Agent has fixed your error. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. Momo¡¯s brow dropped skeptically. ¡°Oh, okay¡­?¡± New Location: 234x4gs2 43x34g, A District, L Continent, B. A.FORMER-NY, USA ¡°What the hell. No,¡± Momo said, slapping the paper. ¡°No, that¡¯s not what I want! Go back! I thought God¡¯s personal spell check would be better than this!¡± Location accepted. Location data being analyzed ¡­ Location data transferring to the Nether ¡­ Replicant Area being built ¡­ Area added to registry of replicant zones ¡­ Welcome to 234x4gs2 43x34g! A portal opened, a bubble swelling around it. Before Momo knew what was happening, she was being sucked in, kicking and screaming. ¡ª- When she came to, she was met with the eyes¡ªif one could call them that¡ªof a robot. It was a beaten up rectangular thing, kind of like a mini-fridge, with two blinking digital eye sockets, and it was studying her in awed silence. A small camera in its iris zoomed in and out on her. Disoriented, she sat up, and the robot made an anxious buzzing sound before backing away, its wheels whizzing through the moist soil. It sounded like a car that had been caught in a ditch. Its white metal frame was severely dented, and its label, District A Localized Scouting Vessel, was smudged nearly to nonexistence. ¡°Hi there,¡± Momo groaned, rubbing her eyes. ¡°Is this an afterlife for¡­ robots?¡± The robot made a series of beeping sounds she couldn¡¯t decipher. ¡°Good, glad we settled that, then,¡± she muttered, backing up until she brushed against the trunk of a tree. She was in a small clearing in the middle of a wide deciduous forest¡ªbirch, oak, and maple for as far as the eye could see. It was plausibly something she¡¯d find in Upstate New York, not that she got out hiking much, or at all. A nearby sign confirmed her suspicions. It was an eroded trail map. This forest was part of some kind of old national park. Taconic Ridge State Forest, to be specific. Although that name had been mostly crossed out in red ink, and replaced with a white and black sticker which just contained numbers and letters. The robot rolled up to her bravely, beeping at something on the ground. She looked down at her feet and saw a strange headset looking thing. It had an attached microphone, and earmuffs. Momo picked it up, and the robot started beeping even more. ¡°Look dude, I really¡ªthis place is cool and all¡ªbut I seriously have to deal with a very pressing matter,¡± she said, but its beeping only got more insistent. ¡°Fine! Fine! I¡¯ll put on the headset, and then you have to leave me alone, okay?¡± The beeping stopped, satisfied. She slipped on the headset. Nothing happened. ¡°Thing¡¯s dead, dude,¡± she mumbled. ¡°Sorry.¡± The robot beeped angrily again, nearly jumping up and down as it tried to communicate something. ¡°Oh¡ª¡± She fiddled with the microphone, and her finger found a button. ¡°You mean this¡ª?¡± A startup noise played. Advanced Morse Code Translation Feature Activated A strange voice began to overlay through the headset as the robot beeped excitedly. ¡°Human! Human! Human!¡± Momo blinked slowly, processing. ¡°A¡­ what? You mean me?¡± The robot wheeled back and forth with delight. ¡°Yes! Human! Human creator has returned! District A Localized Scouting Vehicle is no longer alone!¡± ¡°Returned?¡± ¡°Yes!¡± it beeped happily. ¡°Human creator leave. Human ¨C all human ¨C go extinct. Only robot remain. Only scouting vehicle. Many years pass. Feel emotion. Sadness. Stuck in mud. Cannot return to other robots. But, human is here now. With wings and horns. I do not remember wings and horns. But still, human! Human!¡± It began to get stuck on a loop, just playing the same sound over and over again. Momo felt suddenly sad for the little refrigerator. Even if he wasn¡¯t real, per se, he was a flickering mirror image of a real thing. He had existed somewhere, at some point. She hated to get his hopes up. ¡°Well, I mean, yes, but I actually can¡¯t stay¡ª¡± Wait. Duh. ¡°Robot, can you stay quiet for just a little bit?¡± The robot paused, ceasing its torrent of obsessive beeping. ¡°Human leaving?¡± it said after a moment. The disappointed tone of the beeps nearly pushed a dagger through Momo¡¯s heart. ¡°Human not leaving,¡± she said, shaking her head adamantly. ¡°Human bringing more humans.¡± ¡°Oh! Yes! Human! Human! Human ¡ª I be quiet.¡± It wheeled itself into a corner, and shut off. Momo sighed. She returned to her tree, sat down, and retrieved the Wraith Box from her coat pocket. Time to end this. Curling her wings around her, she opened her third eye. 238 – Bye, Lunatic! The robot was three seconds away from having an aneurysm. ¡°Human! Human! So many human. Scouting vehicle is overwhelmed with indescribable emotion. Please recharge at the docking station.¡± Sweat was slick on Momo¡¯s neck as she hovered in and out of consciousness. She had freed, by her approximation, three hundred and twenty two souls. She could see the very last two now, their slender phantasmic bodies attached to her wrists. In the meantime, the freed souls outside mucked joyfully about the forest, falling into beds of leaves and rolling about like golden retrievers. Just two more¡­ She could hardly believe it. She had been expecting, at any moment, for Sera to ambush her. For Mordecai to hunt her down again and stuff her in a metaphorical blender. But there had been no such disturbance, no unstoppable threat of violence. It was just her, an emotionally unstable robot, and a mission nearly completed.
Warning! You are out of Mana!
Momo ignored the warning. She could barely see anymore¡ªher vision was grainy and muddy like an uncalibrated camera¡ªbut it didn¡¯t matter. She knew she was impossibly close to the finish line. She felt the final ghostly hand loosen its grip on her. Its palm fell across her skin, nails trailing down her forearm, until all sensation was lost. The scouting robot, who had counted every single human to emerge from the artifact, fell suspiciously silent. After a few mute seconds, it beeped again. ¡°No more human?¡± Momo opened her eyes, gazing in cautionary disbelief at the black box cupped in her hands. She gradually pried her sweaty fingers from it, listening for that familiar cry of crumpled humanity. She heard nothing but silence. It felt like a plastic toy in her hands now, cheap and empty. ¡°No more human,¡± she responded slowly to the robot, eyes widening. But the robot was no longer listening. It had joined the freed souls in their frolicking, and was now participating in a very clumsy game of tag. Pride surged in her chest. I did it. ¡°Take that,¡± she said breathlessly. ¡°Sera.¡±
Congratulations! Wow! Me and all the other System Administrators had your feed pinned to the big screen here at the office, and we¡¯ve been making bets all day. Personally, I bet on Sera. Actually, I¡¯m still betting on Sera. This game of yours feels like it¡¯s not done yet¡ªit¡¯s just in overtime. But that doesn¡¯t take away from the fact that you did the damn thing. Those souls are tortured no longer. For freeing all the souls trapped in the Wraith Box, despite risking Mana Disease several times over, you have reached level 4 in Nether Demon (Purified Variant). You have gained a second Rapier of the Nether Demon. Now instead of firing off just one Infinite Blade, you can create parallel or intersecting lines of oblivion.
¡°Nice,¡± Momo said breathlessly, a second sword appearing at her hip. Exhausted, her head fell to the ground, splashing into the mud. Her white hair cascaded into brown. She laid there with an empty mind for several minutes, doing nothing but listening to the disorderly sounds of the freed souls dancing around her. They were circling her like drunk, happy ants, humming a mishmash of songs in different languages. She laughed as they tossed the scouting robot from hand to hand like a hot, metallic potato. Then, descending from above like a ray of dislodged sunlight, was a courier.
New notification from an equipped object! ¡ª Wraith Box Artifact has been disabled Artifact has entered {mode: Sleep} Active Effect [Contain Souls] has been disabled
Momo¡¯s grin widened as she read each line. But then it faltered.
New notification for an equipped object! ¡ª Wraith Box
Active Effects for {mode: Sleep} are now being applied¡­
[Awaken The Husk] is now active
[Homing Beacon] is now active
Homing beacon? A pulse of light shot from the top of the box, extending upwards until it pierced the sky. Every few seconds, it would expel another. ¡°No, no, no,¡± she hissed, scrambling to her feet. She slipped and slided in the mud as she pushed through the gangling bodies, banging the palm of her hand on the box. ¡°Box, stop that! Turn off that skill! Box, that¡¯s a direct order¡ª¡± Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. A giant rippling portal tore across the fabric of reality. It shredded through trees, sliced across mud and water. A figure emerged with no seductive hesitation, no thoughtful delay, only full-blown, maddening rage. Its voice chilled Momo to silence. ¡°If this is that earthly clone of hers again, I¡¯m going to pluck its chattering teeth out¡ª¡± It was Sera, red pupils fully dilated, her lithe, emaciated body dressed in a gown of bone marrow. Her mouth was quivering in anger as she emerged into the muddy pond. The bodies shrank in her presence, scuttering away to the edges of the clearing like terrified dogs. Sera paid them no mind, stalking forward. She grabbed Momo by the collar, hoisting her up and baring her teeth. ¡°Tell me, before I slice you open. Is this another customer service drill?¡± Momo swallowed thickly. ¡°No, not this time. Although I¡¯d be happy to summon her again, if you¡¯d like¡ª¡± With her free hand, Sera tore a handful of black feathers from Momo¡¯s wings. Momo whined, tears springing freely from her eyes. ¡°You thought you could outdance me, little butterfly?¡± Sera seethed, yanking another tuft. ¡°You are a pest. An insect.¡± Poison-tipped nail beds bit at Momo¡¯s skin. ¡°Fluttering around my domain with your useless little wings. Creating idiotic little duplicates. Thinking yourself imperceivable. But no one is imperceivable. Not to me.¡± Momo stifled a scream as poison dribbled down onto her collarbones. If this terrible corrosive liquid was only a side effect of Sera¡¯s touch, Momo didn¡¯t want to know what it would feel like if Sera actually meant to wound her. Could Sera kill her here, in the Nether, she wondered? Her train of thought ricocheted off its tracks as Sera¡¯s free fist punched straight past her cheek. Momo¡¯s heart caught in her throat¡ªwas that a near miss? It seemed so at first, but then Sera recoiled her fist and punched again. A sudden, sharp hissing sound echoed in Momo¡¯s ears when she did so. The kind of sound that rang on your eardrums when you rolled down the window on the highway.
Error: Dieties are forbidden from leaving the Nether.
Her audio courier spat the instruction at her as Sera growled. Momo risked a look towards the hissing sound, twisting her neck just a fraction, and saw the raw consequence of Sera¡¯s punches: a rippling tear between space-time. Its faint facade revealed the silhouette of Morganium¡¯s black tower; it painted an oily view of a city in ambush. Born of Sera¡¯s fist was a portal back to Alois; she had quite literally punched a hole in the universe. Another pang in Momo¡¯s ear. She realized, going by its faintness, that she was actually hearing Sera¡¯s audio courier, not her own.
Error: Dieties are forbidden from leaving the Nether. Admin Note (Valerica): Until you disloyal sons of bitches learn some manners, all doors to the other-worlds are closed. If you wish to interact with your subjects, learn to do it remotely. Thanks!
Momo grinned despite herself. She had forgotten all about that. Per Valerica¡¯s engineering, doors into the Nether were wide open, but all the exits were shut tight. Even if Sera did want to cruise right into Alois, she couldn¡¯t. ¡°Valerica,¡± Sera growled. ¡°Mother of all pests.¡± Another punch flew past Momo¡¯s cheek. The wrinkled line on Sera¡¯s forehead sunk deeper. The frustrated crumple of her lips grew more pursed. Despite the flashy way she had entered the room, it was obvious she was drained. Exhausted. Momo had¡ªlike a terribly capable insect¡ªcaused the lesser goddess to run and jump with a flyswatter around the Nether for days now. She had run her dry. ¡°Look, you¡¯re not going anywhere, I¡¯m not going anywhere,¡± Momo mumbled. ¡°Your box is dead. The souls are free. Your plan¡ªwhatever the hell it is¡ªis over. Won¡¯t you just give up? Aren¡¯t you tired?¡± Sera ceased her assault, turning to Momo with a chilling glance. ¡°Are your ears malfunctioning?¡± Another jolt of pain as Sera¡¯s poison-slick nails dug into her neck. ¡°Gods cannot leave this plane. But you are no god. You are just the lint in Morgana¡¯s closet.¡± She heaved Momo to the right, towards the portal. The hissing sound grew louder. ¡°Dust mites, useless as they are, go wherever they please.¡± Sera placed the palm of her free hand flush to Momo¡¯s pocket, where the dormant Wraith Box was stored. Unexpectedly, she made no attempt to take it; but an icey, malignant smile crossed her face as she touched it. The sight of it¡ªof those cracked, exhausted lips careening into joy¡ªsent a shiver down Momo¡¯s spine. ¡°It will take too much time to refill the artifact here,¡± Sera muttered offhandedly, in that scientific, scholarly way of hers. ¡°Time moves too slow in this place. Either way, the husk should be able to survive without it for a while. I designed him to be self-sustaining.¡± Her eyes gleamed at the word. ¡°By the time he runs out of fresh meat, the twins will know what to do.¡± ¡°The¡ªthe husk? What are you talking about?¡± Repeating the word aloud to herself, Lione¡¯s words flashed before Momo¡¯s mind. ¡°In order for the husk to flourish, the soul who is marked for death must die.¡± Momo suddenly remembered the other active effect that the Wraith Box had taken on in its slumber. [Awaken The Husk]. She had been more concerned with the [Homing Beacon] effect to think much of it. ¡°Do you really not understand? Must I restate myself over and over for you?¡± Sera looked at her not like a deranged villain, but as a tired professor. As if Momo had forgotten to buy her textbook, and was now sitting, pageless and stupid, in her lecture room. Of course, before all this, that was exactly what Sera was. A teacher. All her closest followers¡ªLione, Vivienne, Nia¡ªwere her former pupils. Even Valerica, at one point, had prayed at the shrine of Sera¡¯s intelligence. The realization crashed upon Momo¡¯s shoulders like meteor debris. Sera laughed happily at her pale expression, sensing what must have dawned on Momo. A light, childish thing was her laugh. It was so pure of heart that Momo nearly forgot the reason for it. ¡°The husk. My life¡¯s work,¡± Sera said, answering Momo¡¯s unvoiced question. ¡°The immortal monster. The perfect abomination. Its heart¡ªor perhaps, more aptly, its stomach¡ªwill be this box.¡± She gripped her fingers tighter around Momo¡¯s coat. ¡°Every soul my husk touches will be cannibalized, its soul chains fed to the constant inferno.¡± When speaking of her work, the wrinkles in her face all receded. Even her corroded bald head gained a youthful, dewy shine. ¡°Jarva was supposed to be the trigger. The one to awaken him. But you,¡± she hissed. ¡°Strangled that plan with your pure, good-natured little sheeps¡¯ fingers. You, who can¡¯t handle scientific progress. This is the final frontier of necromancy, can¡¯t you see that? What is a more perfect example of life born from death?¡± At Momo¡¯s lack of agreement, Sera bristled. Her facade of teacherly nobility faded. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter. You will see. You may have starved him from a starting batch, but when he consumes you, everything you did will be in vain. The process will begin anew,¡± she said icily. ¡°[Wraith Box ¨C Set New Mark].¡± After casting her curse, Sera began to press Momo forward, so soon half of her body was submerged into the hissing portal. It was an unimaginable heat¡ªthe furnace of space travel chewing at the fibers of her body. Just as Sera had nearly forced her head through, Momo knew what she had to do. It was quite obvious, really. What Sera had in pure, necromantic power, Momo had in spontaneous decision making skills. She grabbed the Wraith Box from her pocket, and pelted it at Sera¡¯s face. ¡°Bye, lunatic,¡± Momo said, then kicked her feet off of Sera¡¯s chest, propelling herself fully into the great beyond. 239 – The Husk Rises Everything resumed. Momo was spit back out the way she came¡ªsuddenly rocketing onto Morganium¡¯s chipped pavement, her knees scraping against rubble. Her head spun as she regained her vision of the scene: Morganium¡¯s tower of black, still stabilized; Jarva¡¯s body a pile of ash before her; the crumpled bodies of hundreds of Kyros¡¯s failed soldiers. Still no Nia and Vivienne. That was promising, at the very least. The intense shaking of the pavement was less promising. The husk. Shit. She had naively thought that leaving the box on another plane of existence would stop the husk from awakening, but it appeared that Sera¡¯s sequence of events had already been spun into irrevocable motion. At the very least, Momo reasoned, the beast¡¯s core was stranded in the Nether. As long as it stayed that way, and as long as the Holy Resistance didn¡¯t have any extra cards up their sleeves, she had a fair shot of defeating it¡ªwhatever it was. Turning her head away from the tower, she found Sumire and the rest of her apocalypse party gawking at her with utter confusion. To them, she had been gone for no longer than a minute. ¡°But¡ªyou¡ª¡± Sumire stuttered. ¡°What just happened?¡± ¡°No time to explain,¡± Momo said. The pavement was already shaking underfoot. ¡°I think¡ª¡± With a thundering crack, the ground where the Chickenductor sat split wide open. Momo¡¯s jaw clenched. ¡°Oh no.¡± A giant, fleshy thumb shot out of the ground, piercing straight through the machine. The Chickenductor¡ªViktor¡¯s Magnum Opus¡ªexploded in a flash of metallic gore. Momo ducked, watching as gears and cranks flew overhead. Viktor fell to his knees and wailed. ¡°No, no, no! My darling creation!¡± Ignoring his outburst, Momo took Sumire¡¯s hand and motioned towards the district walls¡ªthe tall partitions separating the innermost ring of the city from the rest. If they could get to the top of those walls, they¡¯d be a safe distance away from whatever was simmering beneath their feet. ¡°Nyk,¡± Momo shouted, grabbing the dokkaebi¡¯s attention. ¡°Grab Viktor and the chicken, we¡¯re moving!¡± Viktor clung to the machine¡¯s corpse like a widow at her husband¡¯s grave. Nyk rolled her eyes at the state of him, then, without pretense, punched the man hard in the cheek. He slunk to the side, unresponsive. ¡°I said grab him,¡± Momo emphasized between hurried steps. ¡°Not thwack him unconscious.¡± ¡°Please, I wasn¡¯t about to drag his inconsolable body across Alois.¡± When Momo only glared at her, she followed with, ¡°You should be thanking me. This way we don¡¯t have to listen to him whimper.¡± As the party trailed hurriedly towards the partition, another monstrous body part¡ªthis time, a raw bone¡ªemerged from the ground, rising up in front of Momo with a burst of stone. She skirted to a stop on her heels, wings buffeting. The bone emerged from the ground at two ends. It was laying horizontally, with one sharp end at Momo¡¯s feet, and another one protruding from the pavement several yards away. As the bone rose further into view, Momo tried to make sense of its outline: it was mildly curved, white, and brittle. And, as she would soon discover, this odd bone was not a unique one-off, but just one in a series. Gigantic, curved bones began to rise in pairs all around her, breaking sluggishly through the pavement, thrust upwards by an invisible force. ¡°Oh gods, what are these things?¡± Grimli hiccuped. He had been following them around like a loyal dog, dutifully asking no questions¡ªat least, until the present one. ¡°Bones of a ¡­ a skeleton? Queen Momo, is this one of your most excellent plans in motion?¡± ¡°It¡¯s a rib bone,¡± Nyk said, nonchalant. ¡°And I suppose Morganium is now becoming a ribcage.¡± ¡°Agh!¡± The pavement under Sumire¡¯s feet gave way. She slipped into the wide maw of broken stone, her body halfway towards a plummeting death into the city¡¯s underground tunnels by the time Momo grabbed her hand. ¡°Hold on!¡± As the ground crumbled underfoot, Momo tossed Sumire onto one shoulder and Grimli on another, hoisting them upwards like two toddlers as she flew for the still in-tact city walls. Nyk transformed into her impish dokkaebi form and followed in hot pursuit, trailing behind until the group of them were perched like ravens on the high city walls, watching in quiet horror as Nyk¡¯s prediction came true: ginormous, dinosaur-sized bones were slowly encircling the city¡¯s plaza. If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. An ancient skeleton, half flesh and half bone, was rising from the ashes of Morganium. ¡°How did we not know this thing was underground?¡± Momo asked, gaping. ¡°All the bunkers¡ªand the tunnels connecting them¡ªwouldn¡¯t we have noticed a mega-skeleton?¡± Sumire, who had been uncharacteristically quiet before, cleared her throat. ¡°We did,¡± she said, swallowing with slight embarrassment. She separated herself from Momo, balancing on the shaky wooden beams that made up the wall¡¯s infrastructure. ¡°But the Head of Engineering told me that prehistoric mega-skeletons are practically buried under every great Aloisian city¡ªand that their bone marrow strengthens the soil, or whatever. So we just built around it. Would have been too much trouble to excavate the thing anyway.¡± After realizing that Sumire was, in fact, serious, Momo pulled at the skin of her face and groaned. ¡°I know you grew up on the sea, not on land, but that¡¯s¡­ That¡¯s insane, Sumire. You seriously found a giant skeleton underlying the entirety of the capital, and you didn¡¯t think to tell me?¡± Sumire put her hands up defensively. ¡°You weren¡¯t exactly available, you know. If I was to tell you about every skeleton we found lying around, we¡¯d have no time for the important stuff.¡± ¡°I think this might fall under the important stuff.¡± ¡°Are you two seriously having your first fight right now?¡± Momo knew she was acting stupid when Nyk was the voice of reason. Just as she opened her mouth to apologize, a dinging notification rang out in her ear.
Ruler System ¡ª Notice of Loss of Admin Controls: Morganium Reason: Change of Rulership Cause: Prolonged Absence During Crisis Due to your absence during a {Crisis} in your settlement, Morganium, ownership has defaulted to the next-in-line organization [S3], or Sera¡¯s Chosen Three. The three individuals now in charge of Morganium are Nia Nightsbane, Vivienne von Neculai, and Unknown Entity (Not Recognized By System).
¡°Oh come on,¡± Momo groaned, slapping at her ear as if that was a surefire way to file a customer service complaint. ¡°I¡¯m not absent. I¡¯m right here!¡± Wait. She froze, stilling her assault on her eardrum. That must mean¡­ are Nia and Vivienne already here? Ignorant to Momo¡¯s loss of queenship, Grimli stepped forward, leaning over the hand railings with trembling fingers. ¡°But if that¡¯s the ribcage, then where¡¯s the skull? And why¡¯s it levitating like that?¡± He lowered his voice to a whisper. ¡°Ma always told me that a skeleton is fine lying down, but the moment those old bones start to take flight, you better flee from sight.¡± Nyk snorted. ¡°Did your family have a convenient idiom for every situation?¡± ¡°Sure did. I have a book of ¡®em at home. The Copperstrings Compendium of Original Thoughts for Those Who Don¡¯t Like Thinking.¡± Momo shook her head. Her thoughts were swimming like drunk fish in her skull. God, I just need a second to think. Nyk and Grimli¡¯s idle banter turned to white noise in Momo¡¯s ears as she floated upwards. She needed to get a bird¡¯s eye view of the situation. To her right, over the partition walls, was the central plaza, which was now completely encased in bone. It looked like the empty chest cavity of a god¡ªa husk. To her left, in the outermost rings of the capital, smaller bones were rising. Vertebrae. The underpinnings of a jaw. The entire city sat in rubble. All the infrastructure that they had carefully built and rebuilt during Momo¡¯s term as queen was now sliding like quicksand into the ground. The exposed tunnels underpinning the city were fat like clogged intestines, cluttered with what used to be shops and houses and merchant stalls. The city had become a decaying carcass. ¡°Mo. Mo. Are we good?¡± Sumire was tugging at the hem of her pants. Momo bit her lip in embarrassment, and lowered herself back onto the platform. She had gotten too absorbed in the chaos¡ªshe had forgotten just how rashly she had acted minutes before. ¡°Of course we are. I¡¯m sorry.¡± She folded her arms over her chest and receded her wings, making herself small. ¡°I know you¡¯ve just been trying your best. You rebuilt an entire city from the ground up while I was¡­ getting yelled at by townspeople, or whatever I just spent the last six months doing. It¡¯s just that¡ªI was so close to being the queen that everyone needed. No, respected. Now I¡¯m laying in my queendom¡¯s carcass, literally.¡± ¡°Who cares?¡± Sumire slid her braids into a ponytail and gazed out into the plaza. The enormous bones were still clicking into place, sliding between each other like gears in an elaborate machine. ¡°Your citizens are safe in the one place Sera can¡¯t touch them. Underground. When I said we built around that skeleton, I meant it. It won¡¯t be able to touch the bunkers. And if it does try and slam its bony fist into the ground, our people can just go lower. Remember how far underground Gorim¡¯s prison cell is? The bunkers can all go that deep. Viktor actually did a pretty good job implementing some anti- magical-terrorism measures, if you could believe it.¡± Momo eyed the knocked out wizard with pity and a bit of pride. ¡°You mean that? You think they¡¯re okay?¡± ¡°I¡¯m certain. Them and the chickens.¡± Momo breathed a sigh of relief. ¡°Okay. Fine. You¡¯re right,¡± she said after a moment, taking a shaky breath in. ¡°They¡¯re safe. I didn¡¯t totally fail as queen. Even if I¡¯m technically not queen anymore.¡± ¡°You are to them. They won¡¯t forget what you did for them,¡± Sumire assured her. ¡°They¡¯re safe. I¡¯m safe. And by the looks of it, so are you. I don¡¯t see that mood-killer box on you anymore. No more imminent risk of a soul-chain-sucking explosion, right?¡± Momo gave her a small smile. ¡°I chucked it at Sera¡¯s head.¡± Sumire laughed and slapped her on the shoulder. ¡°That¡¯s my girl. I have a lot of questions on how the hell that went down, but I¡¯ll save them for later. So, since you¡¯re no longer queen, I¡¯m going to try and give you an order for once¡ªget your shit together, count to ten, and let¡¯s blow this skeleton to pieces before it decides to do something annoying like gain sentience.¡± 240 – We’ll Start With The Pelvis "After thinking for a total of fifteen seconds," Momo began, folding her hands together in a poised, presidential manner. "I''m ready to present my plan." ¡°We await your genius with bated breath,¡± Grimli said. ¡°Gods,¡± Nyk rolled her eyes. ¡°Get on with it already.¡± The creaky wooden rafters whined as Momo stepped to the right, dipping herself over the partition¡¯s protective half-wall to take in the current state of the ribcage. It was no longer in motion. All the bones had settled in place. The only noise now came from the continual crush of Morganium¡¯s infrastructure¡ªwooden planks and stone walls sinking into the ground and crashing into the depths of the caverns. ¡°We¡¯ll start with the hands. I think Sera would expect us to start demolishing it at the center, or the skull, but that¡¯s the wrong way of looking at it. It¡¯s a skeleton, not a human being with brains and a heart. When this thing comes alive¡ªand knowing our luck, it¡¯s when, not if¡ªmy bet is it will try to attack us using its hands. So if it doesn¡¯t have giant fingers to pummel us with, or to use in casting magic, it¡¯s a bit useless, isn¡¯t it?¡± Momo looked at Nyk and Sumire¡ªher resident council¡ªfor feedback. Neither looked particularly convinced. ¡°What if it shoots a death beam out of its chest or something?¡± Sumire said, skeptical. ¡°I¡¯ve never fought a mega-skeleton before, but we can¡¯t expect it to act conventionally.¡± Sumire gestured to the skeleton¡¯s fists, which still lay inside the chest cavity. ¡°Its hands are still stuck inside its ribcage anyway. And its arms¡±¡ªshe traced a line from its shoulders, which were in the second ring of the city, downward, where the bones concluded in a mess by its wrist¡ª¡°don¡¯t seem fully assembled. It must have lost a few bones while ascending.¡± ¡°We can¡¯t rule out that it might reassemble itself when it fully awakens.¡± It was Viktor that spoke, shocking Momo with an inch of her life. The man had been fully unconscious not a minute before. She expected him to be a wailing mess when he returned to life, but he was only lightly sniffling now; it seemed he entered a momentary lucid state when faced with a particularly good problem. ¡°Okay, well, we have to pick something,¡± Momo said, growing impatient. She had a bad feeling about all of this. Vivienne was somewhere in the city; so was Nia. There was a chance that the absence of the Wraith Box had caused something to go wrong, and the Husk would never fully activate, but she couldn¡¯t rely on that possibility. ¡°We have a limited Mana supply between us. Let¡¯s just focus on one area of the body first and see what happens.¡± ¡°I vote for the pelvic region. Best to separate the legs from the torso,¡± Viktor said, raising a pointed, confident finger. ¡°If it can¡¯t stand, it can¡¯t step on us. Also, its range of motion is severely reduced.¡± ¡°Huh.¡± Momo tapped her chin, impressed. ¡°True.¡± ¡°Yeah, sure, let¡¯s take advice from the guy who turned your capital into a chicken worshiping site,¡± Nyk added impatiently. Viktor grimaced, hugging Baryte closely to his chest. ¡°I don¡¯t care where we shoot the thing, as long as we just start shooting it.¡± Momo frowned. ¡°What do you think, Mire?¡± Sumire shrugged. ¡°I do like the idea of blowing his skeletal crotch off. Don¡¯t know if it¡¯s the most practical, but, hey, the entire city is a swamp of rubble now. So why not.¡± ¡°Okay. We¡¯ll start with the pelvis, then¡ª-¡± A terrible rumbling shook the partition. The skeleton¡¯s torso had begun slowly moving upwards. This time, not as individual bones, but in concert; its skull lolled forward, its mighty neck and shoulders tensed and broadened. Viktor and Sumire clung to the railings while Grimli jumped into Nyk¡¯s arms. The dokkaebi rolled her eyes, holding him like a negligent mother. ¡°What¡¯s the saying, Grimli?¡± Nyk muttered. ¡°Life is what happens while you¡¯re busy figuring out the right way to blow up a skeleton?¡± ¡°Shut up, Nyk,¡± Momo groaned. ¡°Everyone, positions! Go, go!¡± Momo lifted Sumire into her arms, putting her in a piggyback position, so she was sitting just above Momo¡¯s wings. They had discussed this formation¡ªthe Hot n¡¯ Cold, as they called it¡ªmany times before in bed. (For Sumire, military positioning was the ideal pillow talk.) ¡°Now we can call it the Flying Hot n¡¯ Cold!¡± Sumire shouted over the wind as they descended downward. ¡°Your wings add so many wonderful attack-combo possibilities.¡± ¡°Let¡¯s attack now, geek out about military formations later, okay baby?¡± Sumire laughed maniacally, which Momo took as an affirmative; she swooped down past the Husk¡¯s torso and the pirate thrust out her hands, a torrent of ice shooting forward. The icicles pierced through bone like bullet holes. Seizing the moment, Momo joined the onslaught, hurling fireballs that detonated like small bombs, shattering thick, undead bone into clouds of fragments. ¡°Good shot!¡± Sumire yelled over the whistling wind, slapping Momo on the back. They dove straight through the misty debris, emerging on the other side to find the left side of the pelvis in a decrepit state. It was cracked right down the middle, the left leg now completely inaccessible. The right leg, on the other hand, was beginning to tremble¡ªthe kneecap bobbed upwards, and nearly took Momo out of flight. ¡°Gods¡ªMomo¡ªbe careful where you¡¯re flying,¡± Sumire chided. ¡°You¡¯ve got a passenger on board, you know.¡± Momo rolled her eyes, coughing as the chalky bone-debris filled her airway. ¡°It¡¯s easy to complain from the backseat!¡± They did another loop through the air as their mana regenerated. Just as Momo readied herself for another attack on the right leg, a volley of fireballs whizzed past her, detonating against the unsteady kneecap. Startled, Momo glanced back to find Nyk smirking. ¡°Too slow, cousin.¡± The two flying dokkaebis retreated back in the air to appreciate their handiwork. The skeleton¡¯s two colossal legs¡ªwhich had emerged from the ground in the city¡¯s southern outer rings¡ªnow lay utterly motionless. The pelvis lay in fragments. The upper half of the skeleton was still groaning to life, its rigid back bending upwards, its jaw clicking as it opened and closed its toothless, gaping mouth. If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. ¡°Arms next?¡± Momo said quickly. ¡°By the shoulder blade?¡± Drowning out Sumire''s reply was a resounding bellow from the Husk''s clicking jaw. Its voice was a haunting but grainy thing, like a toddler who knew language but hadn¡¯t yet learned how to speak. ¡°L¨Clegs,¡± it bellowed. ¡°S¨Cstupid legs.¡± Stupid? Momo paused. She hadn¡¯t expected an ancient-looking skeleton to talk like a common pedestrian. ¡°M¨Cmove. D¨Cdumb, s¨Cstupid legs.¡± The still-attached bones just below the skeleton¡¯s ribcage wiggled. It was trying to operate a phantom limb and failing. It was then, gazing downward, that Momo caught sight of the figure. Draped in a dark cape at the very center of the devastated plaza. Someone that hadn¡¯t been there moments before. ¡°Mire, do you see that person?¡± ¡°Oh my god, yeah. Who is that? There¡¯s no way¡­ is it Sera?¡± Momo shook her head. ¡°It can¡¯t be. She¡¯s trapped in the Nether. Unless it¡¯s¡­¡± Vivienne? ¡°I¡¯m going down to check it out. I¡¯m going to put you somewhere safe for a second, okay?¡± ¡°I should come with you¡ª¡± ¡°No,¡± Momo nodded fervently as she found a suitable rooftop. It belonged to a submerged apartment building, but seemed stable. ¡°There are too many risks of you falling down there. I won''t take that chance again.¡± Sumire looked like she was going to protest, but she just sighed. ¡°Fine.¡± She descended from Momo¡¯s back and onto the rooftop. ¡°But listen to me, okay?¡± She cupped Momo¡¯s cheek and pinched it, then smiled solemnly. There was an unsettling chill in her voice as she spoke. ¡°Some people just need to die.¡± Momo stared at her, taken aback. She hadn¡¯t expected that. ¡°Even people we want to like. Even people we want to save. I know you want to believe everyone can be redeemed, but some can¡¯t, okay?¡± Momo swallowed thickly. She didn¡¯t know what to say. She disagreed, of course, at the core of her. But that conviction had been gradually eroded away, worn down by circumstances. ¡°No one needs to die. I¡¯m going to figure this out,¡± was all Momo settled on, her voice tinged with determination. Sumire seemed poised to interject, raising her hand to speak, but eventually she relented. Momo leaned in to plant a gentle kiss on Sumire''s forehead before soaring upward. As she ascended, Sumire swiftly became an indistinct speck amid the surrounding debris. I have to figure this out. She surveyed the situation from her perch in the sky. The skeleton¡¯s hands¡ªwhich had been stuck in the chest cavity¡ªhad pushed their way forcibly out of the ribs, joining at the wrist. The beast treated its own body as a disposable wasteland. It groaned monstrously, in a tongue that sounded both familiar and strange, as it broke parts of itself to accommodate others. Momo descended swiftly, hurtling towards the ground until she landed amidst a swirl of debris in the heart of the plaza. When the dust settled, she could make out the figure in full. What she saw didn¡¯t surprise her. ¡°Nia,¡± Momo said, breathless. Nia Nightsbane stood hunched over, her once-glistening raven hair matted and heavy. Her body looked like it weighed more than gravity itself, burdened by more than just clothes. In one tensed hand she held the Soul Splitting Dagger, in the other, the Wraith Mace. A faint band of fluctuating magic bridged the gap between them, wavering in and out of existence. Adorning her feet were what Momo presumed to be the final components of the Wraith Artifact Set: two skeletal boots. She was in the arduous process of removing them. ¡°Get off me,¡± she grunted as her foot popped out of one of the sizable boots. The next followed quickly, and she tossed it into one of the jagged fissures. ¡°Finally. Useless things.¡± When Nia looked up to finally face her, she scowled. It was an exhausted, tired scowl. A Sera type of expression, not befitting the overconfident assassin Momo first met in Nam¡¯Dal. ¡°You ruined my legs,¡± she spat. ¡°I was planning on using those.¡± Encircling her entire form was a faint, eerie silhouette of the colossal skeleton. It seemed as though it held dominion over her¡ªor she, over it. ¡°Sorry, not sorry,¡± Momo said with a shrug, stepping forward. Nia thrust her hand upward, an evidently taxing action¡ªher arm quivered with fatigue. Momo felt the ground quiver beneath her feet as the skeleton''s arm mimicked the motion, extending high into the sky. It took Momo a moment to triangulate just where it was dangling above, but once she did, her blood ran cold. It was hanging just above where she had left Sumire. ¡°Stop¡ª¡± Momo cried out. ¡°Don¡¯t you dare.¡± ¡°Doesn¡¯t feel very good, does it? Having someone take something from you.¡± Momo shook her head, ignoring the comment. ¡°You don¡¯t need to do this. You¡¯re sitting in rubble, Nia. You wanted to conquer my queendom? Good job, you did. If you want me to leave, I will. But there¡¯s nothing more for you to gain. Nothing except murder for murder¡¯s sake. That¡¯s not who you are, is it?¡± Doubt flickered in Nia''s eyes. Beneath her facade of wearied bravado, Momo detected a hint of agreement. A slight bit of apprehension. ¡°Your entire body is trembling,¡± Momo said quietly, not wanting to risk setting off the girl any further. ¡°I don¡¯t completely understand what kind of magic this is¡ªbut these artifacts, even if they¡¯re allowing you to control that thing¡ªthey are destroying you. Do you really want your life to end with you floundering around in rubble? Accomplishing nothing? That¡¯s not the Nia that I met in Nam¡¯Dal. You had aspirations.¡± ¡°I still do,¡± she said, wincing as she raised her trembling arm an inch further. ¡°You just don¡¯t see the full picture. You never did. I¡¯m not doing this for Sera anymore,¡±¡ªshe took in a shaky, labored breath¡ª¡°I¡¯m doing this for me.¡± ¡°Doing what for you?¡± Before Momo could react, Nia plunged her hand downwards. It took an entirely different path than Momo expected. Instead of smashing into the apartment where Sumire stood, it surged through one of the decrepit chicken churches. Its fist of bone broke through layer upon layer of dirt and stone. A strange smile passed Nia¡¯s face as she curled her fingers; she had caught something. She raised her arm, and the skeleton¡¯s gigantic fist emerged from the ground, swimming with people in its tight grip¡ªscreaming, moaning civilians. Momo gasped. No. It shouldn¡¯t be possible. Sumire said they were safe¡ª ¡°Power,¡± Nia said, a soft, fading smile on her face. ¡°Power is what I want for me. The ability to not be fucked with. No one will ever hurt me or Vivienne. Never again. Never again.¡± She thrust her tightly wound fist into her open mouth, and, like a particularly convincing mime, pretended to swallow. Gazing upwards with horror, Momo saw the titanic skeleton mirror the same behavior; only there, in the sky, it was not just a gesture, but a terrible reality; an enormous jaw clenched down. The screaming ceased. ¡°Nia, what have you¡­¡± Momo¡¯s hand found her mouth, it trembled in disbelief. ¡°What just¡ª¡± An explosive surge of magic sent Momo hurtling backward. She gasped sharply upon impact as her head collided with the jagged edge of a boulder. Through blurry vision, she witnessed Nia ascending, a vibrant green aura from her weapons seeping into her veins, now visibly emanating from her pallid skin. It was clear, now: as the Husk devoured, Nia received. It wasn¡¯t just a soulless mutant that Sera was building. She was feeding her chosen descendant¡ªher daughter. By making an immortal monster, she was bearing an immortal child, too. Sera, for all her evil, was just doing as mother¡¯s did. Except for one small detail. ¡°Nia!¡± Momo shouted out as she crawled forward, trying to gain her footing again. ¡°Without the Wraith Box, this isn¡¯t sustainable,¡±¡ªshe grabbed onto a rocky ledge and pushed herself up, harsh winds barraging her face¡ª¡°you can¡¯t contain that much power on your own.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t have any clue about my potential.¡± Nia flexed her surging muscles, bringing her fist down with greater force. The impact shook the ground violently, erupting like a volcanic explosion. Debris, resembling boulder-sized hail, rained down, blanketing the entire city in a smoky veil. Like a child devouring a buffet, she fisted more and more people¡ªand their chickens¡ªinto her hands. One batch after another fell victim to Nia¡¯s cannibalization. Cannibalization¡ªthe word gave Momo pause, and she widened her eyes in disbelief. She knew how she could end this. 241 – The Only Option At the very moment that Momo made up her mind, she found herself shoved aside. Two heavy boots crunched the stone pavement as they passed her by. There was a woosh of blonde hair, and a pale neck spotted with two tiny red dots, gleaming in the moonlight. The woman, in her glinting steel armor, with an enormous halberd strapped to her back, looked like a regal dragonslayer. For a moment, Momo saw two of her, her vision splitting, before it merged back to one¡ªone woman, all too familiar, with her hand wrapped around Nia¡¯s wrist. It was Vivienne. ¡°Nia,¡± Vivienne said, her jaw clenched. ¡°Stop it. I told you¡ª¡± ¡°Get away from me, Viv,¡± Nia cursed quietly. Momo knew she only partially meant it. With the power that was currently coursing through her, she could make Vivienne disappear in an instant. When Vivienne¡¯s grip on her sister only tightened, Nia bared her teeth. ¡°Why are you getting in my way? I¡¯m doing this for both of us. I just need to consume enough of these stupid, pea-brained idiots, and then¡ª¡± ¡°Pea-brained idiots? Nia, those are people. Helpless people.¡± ¡°So? Since when did you care?¡± As the two went back and forth, Momo shuffled begrudgingly into a standing position. ¡°Look, if you want to make yourself useful, help me into these boots again,¡± Nia said icily, gesturing towards the skeletal shoes she had abandoned. ¡°Those squeamish little worms I just ate are helping me to regenerate the Husk¡¯s legs. Once I can stomp down on the ground, it¡¯ll be a lot easier to get to the worms underneath.¡± With a look towards the southern border of the city, Momo¡¯s eyes confirmed Nia¡¯s claim. The bones in the pelvis were reforming more quickly than Nyk could blast them apart. The Husk could seemingly regenerate bone through soul consumption. Damn it. Momo had considered using her rapiers¡¯ infinite blades to cut off the bones near the Husk¡¯s shoulders, rendering its hands useless, but at the speed of regeneration the skeleton was apparently capable of, that would¡ªat best¡ªonly be delaying the inevitable. At worst, it would mean the death of several more of her citizens. She couldn¡¯t allow that. There was no other course of action. She had to use [Soul Cannibal]. It¡¯s not really alive, she reasoned. It was a bastardization of life. Opening her third eye only further proved her point. Everything fell to black and white, all of Morganium¡¯s debris fading to bleak gray, except for one thing¡ªan enormous chain, erupting from the skeleton¡¯s chest, constructed not of shiny metal, but of black, corrosive claws. The same ones that Sera had melded to Lione¡¯s chain. This soul was not made of life; it was made of death. She wouldn¡¯t be eating a life; she¡¯d be devouring an insult to it. But one problem remained: Nia. The skeleton¡¯s chain spiraled and spiraled through the air until it ultimately fell upon the girl¡¯s shoulders. It twisted around her neck, then her wrists, where she held the weapons. That seemed to be the magic of the Wraith Artifacts: they allowed her to siphon the lifeforce absorbed by the Husk, and use it to power herself. But, in exchange, the connection¡ªlike a noxious umbilical cord¡ªwas corroding her own soul. Her chain was turning a putrid black, decaying by the minute. ¡°I don¡¯t care about the people, Nia,¡± Vivienne said, tightening her grip on her sister¡¯s wrist so it was momentarily immobile. Momo could see the skeleton¡¯s hand freeze in the air, mirroring the movement. ¡°I care about what coldblooded murder does to you. The Nia I grew up with liked collecting the wilting daisies in Dad¡¯s garden. You¡¯d nurse them back to health in little water pots. I can¡¯t count how many times you cried when you couldn¡¯t save one of them¡ª¡± ¡°Don¡¯t call him dad. He¡¯s not our father,¡± Nia said. Her pupils were turning the same corrosive material as the soul chain, black and murky. ¡°Sera is our only true parent. She saved us from a life of paralysis. That plague took over the town, but she stopped it. It would have consumed us otherwise. She grew us into who we are, Vivienne.¡± Vivienne¡¯s voice rose, her temper burning. ¡°That¡¯s not what happened,¡± she said, tugging at Nia¡¯s arm. ¡°That¡¯s what she told you happened. It¡¯s all lies. Lies she fed us so she could shape us into her perfect little monsters. That¡¯s what she¡¯s doing to you right now, Nia. Isn¡¯t it obvious? Why do you need this kind of power? The answer is obvious, you don¡¯t. It¡¯s a ruse that¡¯s costing you your life. Without the Wraith artifact as a barrier between you and the Husk, you¡¯ll die.¡± ¡°No! You don¡¯t get it, Vivienne. Without this power¡ªshe¡¯ll kill us.¡± A trembling finger dragged upwards through the air, then landed at Momo. ¡°What? Momo?¡± Vivienne said, letting out a rushed sigh. ¡°Momo gave me this new power, Nia. She let me reconnect with Neculai. She has our best interests in mind.¡± Nia¡¯s pupils darted around her eyes madly. The corrosive fabric of the Husk¡¯s soul chain was eating at her faster and faster, gnashing its nasty, decaying teeth into her chest. It was clear she was no longer in control of her own actions. She was a creature of pure impulse, held tightly in Sera¡¯s poisonous clutches. Momo stepped forward, fists clenched. She was ready. A small, anxious voice in her head listed off a series of what if¡¯s¡ª-what if the soul was too massive to consume, what if it was too noxious to eat, what if it devoured her instead¡ªbut she quieted them with a fluttering of her eyelashes. Her mortal eyes closed, her mind settling around three unequivocal truths; If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. These were her people. She was their queen. And she was going to save them. It didn¡¯t matter what it took from her. She stared into the soulless holes of the Husk¡¯s eyes, and spoke. ¡°[Soul Cannibal].¡± ¡ª - Momo suddenly felt hungry. As the spell settled on her shoulders, a vampiric craving overtook her. Her eyes gleamed red; her skin pricked with goosebumps. It felt as if she had been submerged in an ice bath. Her heart pumped with a supernatural fervor, pounding with an erratic rhythm. ¡°Momo? What are you doing?¡± she vaguely heard Vivienne remark, petrified, before Momo leaped upwards, soaring with explosive strength into the air. ¡°Don¡¯t come any closer.¡± Momo couldn¡¯t hear Vivienne anymore. She heard nothing but her own heartbeat¡ªand this new, itching urge inside of her. It was as if hunger itself had possessed her. Consume, it whispered to her, like a ghoulish voice in the wind. Consume, consume, consume! She was at the Husk¡¯s center in milliseconds. She tore through the rib bones as if they were mere paper¡ªbiting through them with teeth alone¡ªuntil she had enfolded herself around the colossal soul chain. Each of its links was the size of her entire body, but that didn¡¯t scare her. It exhilarated her. What a feast this will be. Her skin tingled with anticipation, her thoughts awash in a crimson frenzy. ¡°Get away!¡± Nia screamed, her voice echoing from afar. The assassin thrust her hand towards her own chest, and the Husk¡¯s colossal arm followed. A ginormous bony palm aimed for Momo, attempting to swat her like a fly. She saw it coming from miles away¡ªher blood pumping like a motorcycle engine¡ªand evaded easily. She found herself laughing, cackling, filled with an odd, terrible sort of euphoria. One impulse in singularity haunted her mind: the urge to devour. As she effortlessly avoided another swatting attempt, Momo giggled. ¡°Oh no, is the pea-brained worm outmaneuvering you?¡± Nia fumed, striking again, but Momo¡¯s focus remained unwavering¡ªfixed on the core of the skeleton¡¯s chest cavity. Like a meteor streaking through the sky, she plunged toward it, shattering bone as if it were fragile glass, scattering splinters of marrow. In the blink of an eye, she had arrived: at the corroded, obsidian epicenter of it all. The genesis of the chain. It emitted an acrid odor akin to burnt rubber, stirring a deep rumble within Momo¡¯s stomach. Briefly, in a quick moment of lucidity, Momo thought: I doubt this will taste very good. She chomped her teeth down regardless. And it was true, it tasted terrible. Like burnt petrol. But the feeling was exquisite. Momo had never done hard drugs, mind you, she hadn¡¯t even done soft ones¡ªbut she had gone under for surgery one time, and when she came back out, rolled out on her back with a big, dopey smile on her face¡ªit was quite like that. Perfect and warm. Only now, it was also addicting. She ate and ate and ate. She was a parasite stuck to the tail of a snake, chewing and chewing. ¡°Get off!¡± A cold, flat, thudding feeling disrupted Momo¡¯s utter bliss. She didn¡¯t realize it until she hit one of the tall partitions, but she had been hit dead on¡ªslapped by the Husk¡¯s ginormous fingers. She gurgled, unable to really make a sound. Black, sewage-like soul chain was spilling out of her mouth. It seemed like the kind of thing that would hurt, but she felt no pain. Just impatience. Need more. She wobbled to her feet, uncrumpling her wings. She saw Nia staring at her in disbelief. ¡°How did¡ªhow did she survive that?¡± she said to Vivienne; she was nearly foaming at the mouth. ¡°That was a direct hit!¡± ¡°Seems you¡¯ve picked a fight with a very persistent mosquito,¡± Vivienne offered. Momo lurched onto her feet, dragging them forward. Not enough. Need more. Tastes so good. With a heaving jump, she got into the air again. Despite getting hit by a truck-load of force, she felt even stronger than before. She had eaten roughly a third of the creature¡¯s soul chain, and she felt its soul burning within her, as if it was feeding an internal furnace. She saw Nia thrust her arm up again, but it seemed incredibly taxing. The girl was breathing heavily. Her own soul chain was smoldering now, almost burning away from her chest. Nia¡ªand thus, the Husk¡ªswatted at her again. Momo evaded the attack easily. The hand missed her and slapped into one of the partition walls. The wall was nearly as hard as the skeleton¡¯s fingers, and some of the bone shattered on its own, fracturing at the knuckles. Momo could see the creature¡¯s pain reflected in Nia¡¯s whimpers. ¡°Let go of the artifacts, Nia,¡± Vivienne barked at her sister. She was standing a few feet away from her, unable to get closer. The area of magical pressure around Nia was too strong, it was like trying to fight against a wind tunnel. ¡°Drop them before they kill you!¡± ¡°No,¡± Nia choked out. Her voice had dropped several octaves, and sounded suspiciously like another voice; like Sera¡¯s. ¡°I¡¯m not stopping until that pest is dead.¡± She¡¯s completely lost it. I don¡¯t know why I¡¯m even bothering to save her. Momo shook her head and dove once more for the corroded soul chain. Gripping it firmly with both hands, she bit down hard on the corrosive metal. She tore at it like a wild dog, her tongue burning like she was devouring a raw saucepan straight off the burner. It was beyond taste, though, now¡ªshe knew it was noxious from the way bile built in her throat, but the delicious euphoria of power she felt coated over every other sensation. The Husk made another attempt to swat Momo, but since she was at the center of its ribcage, it only caused more damage to itself. Colliding head-on with a sharpened rib bone, the beast¡¯s hand was severed from its wrist. The massive hand dropped like a dead fly onto the ground, falling through the cracks of the pavement and into the system of tunnels beneath. Nia fell to her knees and screamed. The hand had already begun to regenerate, but it seemed to be taking as much from her as it was from the souls it had consumed. An easy target. Defenseless. An appetizer, really. The small, still lucid part of Momo¡¯s brain, now shoved in a dark corner, rang alarm bells as the thought floated across her head. But her body was still mindlessly consuming, now three fours of the way through the chain; she had effectively become a landfill. A mindless machine of industry. The icey chain slid down her esophagus with ease as she got closer and closer to the end of it¡ªnearer and nearer to where it clasped around Nia¡¯s throat. It¡¯d be easy. I just have to keep eating. It¡¯d be harder to stop, really. And why should I? Sumire¡¯s right. Some people just deserve to die. Nia¡¯s done nothing but kill and destroy. She¡¯s Sera incarnate. And me? All I¡¯ve done is serve¡ªserve other people¡ªand to what end? Don¡¯t I finally deserve something for myself? It¡¯d be a good deed. A great deed. Fitting for a queen. Momo envisioned herself as the bringer of justice, a herald of peace. The thoughts swirled through her mind as she drew nearer to Nia. Before she knew it, she was hovering just above her, enveloping her like a dark shadow, wings outstretched, mouth agape. She¡¯s going to taste so good. Momo hovered hazily in and out of self-control. In her mind¡¯s eye, Momo envisioned herself as an angel of justice, a harbinger of peace. With a single bite, she would be purging this world of a tremendous evil. It was a good thing to do. The right thing to do. Momo delicately pressed her teeth to the side of Nia¡¯s neck, not yet clamping down. Her skin was cold like near-death. Nia was on her knees on the damp ground, her limbs shaking, completely drained. The only strength she had left was being used to hold desperately onto the Wraith Artifacts. ¡°Momo, don¡¯t!¡± Vivienne cried out. ¡°Let her go!¡± Momo pressed her teeth down. 242 – Consequences It was only when she looked into Nia''s eyes that she finally woke from the hunger. Momo found herself straddling the woman, the last two chains of Nia¡¯s soul dangling from her lips. The two Wraith weapons had slipped from her hands. Her skin was pale, bloodless. Her lips, usually either crooked or pursed, were slightly ajar. She was, in almost every way, a corpse. But it was her eyes¡ªso startlingly blue and alive, with pupils that grew and shrunk in size with each remaining breath¡ªthat cracked the shell on Momo¡¯s sliver of remaining selfhood. Momo¡¯s own eyes dimmed from demonic red to their regular paper bag brown. She twisted her head like an animal, the last of the soul chain still under her tongue, to see Vivienne lying beside her, breathing heavily. She had bleeding wounds on her neck and her middle. She seemed unconscious. Momo paled. Did I do that? She couldn¡¯t remember. All she remembered was the euphoria of consumption. It had felt so good and so pure. Like drinking from the fountain of youth. Her skin felt dewy, her arms strong. A sudden bitterness struck her. Like chewing on a rancid fish, the taste pierced her tongue and lingered. She spit, releasing Nia¡¯s rotting soul chain onto her chest. It lay there, degrading slowly, evaporating into thin air. She could see the life leaving Nia¡¯s eyes. The woman¡¯s arms trembled as they rose slowly, grasping not for Momo¡¯s throat¡ªlike she would have expected, like she would have deserved¡ªbut for her hands, for her fingers, interweaving them. ¡°Can you tell Vivienne I¡¯m sorry?¡± ¡°Wait¡ªno, no, no,¡± Momo croaked out, reaching for the last link of Nia¡¯s soul chain. It burnt her hands like fire, but she kept it held there desperately. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯m so sorry. I¡¯m going to fix this. Just stay with me, okay?¡± Nia¡¯s eyes closed. ¡°No, no, no. I refuse. I refuse,¡± Momo said. She gripped the infinitesimal remains of Nia¡¯s cindering soul chain between her fingers. ¡°[Soul First Aid].¡±
You are out of mana.
¡°Shut up. Shut up. I don¡¯t care. [Soul First Aid].¡± A faint blue light sprouted from her fingertips. It¡¯s working. She could nearly bleed with relief. I can fix this. She poured every last molecule of Mana within herself towards Nia. The light grew larger and more powerful, encasing the metal link in a protective barrier.
Warning! If you continue to use Mana beyond your limit, you will enter Mana Overdrive!
Momo ignored the warning. The sensation of pain was starting to enter her limbs again; the side effects of [Soul Cannibal] had numbed her pain receptors momentarily, but now she could feel the way her limbs ached. Her ribs were bruised, her body was past the point of exhaustion. She bit down on her lip and screamed, fighting off every instinct to stop and recover.
You are entering Mana Overdrive! For every second that you sustain Mana Overdrive, your chances of permanently injuring your Mana Pathways increases tenfold. This is known as Mana Disease, a near-untreatable magic-affecting condition.
The audio courier sounded like a tinny voice in the back of her head, barely audible. All that powered her forward was the sight of what was developing in her hands¡ªtwo chain links, not one, layed there now. Through the blaring, biting pain, she grinned, wincing even as she did so. After another second, there were three chains, then four. She sailed from moment to moment with equal parts anguish and glee. On the fifth chain, Nia¡¯s eyes snapped open. Momo nearly kissed her in joy. ¡°I¡¯m alive?¡± she said, voice hoarse. ¡°You¡¯re alive,¡± Momo cried. I saved her. I¡¯m not a monster. All the adrenaline that had pushed her relentlessly forward drained away in an instant. She slumped, slipping from Nia''s side onto the chilly, damp pavement.
Congratulations! For defying all odds and defeating Sera¡¯s ultra-monster, eating away at its Frakensteined soul, and saving your foe from the brink of death (that you caused), you have gained 3 levels in Nether Demon (Purified Variant). You are now level 7.
You have gained the skill [Nether Rapiers ¨C X Formation] You have gained the skill [Nether Rapiers ¨C T Formation]
You have received the skill [Summon Undead ¨C Husk] from the Soul that you Cannibalized.
You have also contracted Mana Disease.
In that moment, all Momo could think to do¡ªbetween tears, and bouts of uncontrollable nerve pain¡ªwas laugh. ¡ª ¡°We¡¯ll start rebuilding tomorrow.¡± ¡°That¡¯s too soon, Viktor. It¡¯s not like we can reconstruct the fallen apartment buildings in a day. People will be houseless regardless. It¡¯s best if we just send them as temporary refugees to the other cities in Queendom that are offering aid¡ªDrachenheim, Nam¡¯Dal, Mekna, Kalendale. Plus, I don¡¯t feel comfortable acting on any big decisions without knowing what Momo wants. What she intends to do with Nia, especially¡­¡± Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. ¡°What to do with her? You mean to tell me there¡¯s an option besides burning her like an effigy in the city square?¡± ¡°Ha. If you ask me or you, no, there isn¡¯t. But to Momo, there¡¯s always other options.¡± ¡°And look where that¡¯s gotten her. We don¡¯t even know if she¡¯s fit to be a ruler anymore. You know what the medic said¡­¡± ¡°If you say another word, I¡¯ll cut your chicken in half.¡± Momo stirred at the sound of Viktor¡¯s yelping. Her eyes opened to the sight of a pale beige tarp above her. Her body ached, and when she tried to lift her hands, it felt like they were attached to two hundred-pound dumbbells. Where am I? With great effort, she tilted her neck to the side. Relief washed over her as she spotted Sumire and Viktor a few paces away, at the opening of a tent. A medical tent. That¡¯s where she was. It made sense; she was flat on her back, draped in a heavy weighted blanket, and she could hear the faint bubbling of potions being stirred. It smelled of rose and sea-salt healing salve. ¡°Hi,¡± she croaked softly in greeting. The pirate-knight brightened considerably, practically jumping to her side. Viktor offered a small, but petrified, smile of his own. Sumire sighed a breath of relief as she squeezed Momo¡¯s numb arm. ¡°You big dumb idiot. You had me scared for a second there.¡± Momo frowned. ¡°Scared? Why? How long was I out?¡± ¡°Twenty six hours,¡± Viktor said, gesturing to his softly clicking wrist-watch. ¡°And six minutes.¡± Oof. It hadn¡¯t felt that long. She just remembered nearly killing Nia¡ªthen narrowly saving Nia¡ªand then¡­ passing out. She vaguely recalled getting a few levels and upgrades, but not enough to push her into Lesser Goddesshood. Not enough to face Sera head-on and win. Damn it. I¡¯m close, though. I know I am. Her plan remained the same: she needed to ascend. Even if she had narrowly saved her mortal empire from utter destruction, the Nether remained in disarray. She still didn¡¯t know how Sera had taken Morgana out of the picture, or where Valerica had gone. And to top it all off, after giving her bracelet to Mallmart Momo, she could no longer communicate with Azrael and check in on things from afar. She was totally shut out, and they were totally shut in. At the very least, she reminded herself, she had stopped Sera¡¯s plan in its tracks. With an empty Wraith Box and a dead Husk, she had utterly failed to deliver the promised souls to the other gods in the pantheon, and Momo could only imagine¡ªwith a growing smile on her face¡ªthe price Sera was about to pay for that failure. She terribly wished she could watch the woman get her ass kicked from one deity to the next. ¡°Momo, we have to talk to you about something.¡± Sumire¡¯s voice broke her from her focus. She looked up to find that she was surrounded not just by Sumire and Viktor now, but a medic: a woman in a tidy, white apron and a hat with a red star. ¡°Yeah?¡± she said worriedly. The tone of Sumire¡¯s voice put her on edge. ¡°What is it?¡± Sumire couldn¡¯t seem to get the words out, so the medic interjected, laying a patient hand on Sumire¡¯s shoulder. ¡°You¡¯ve contracted Mana Disease,¡± the medic said. ¡°Due to your Mana overexertion. We did several tests on you while you were sleeping, and we¡¯ve determined it¡¯s a rather severe case. Most of your mana pathways have been severely damaged.¡± Momo¡¯s insides twisted. The memory of that notification swam back into the front of her mind. She had received the warning from the System several times, but she had willfully ignored it. There had just been too much at stake; she had no other choice but to push herself to the brink. But now, hearing the warning tone in the woman¡¯s voice, all she felt was a sinking feeling. ¡°My¡­ mana pathways? So what does that mean?¡± ¡°It means your Mana capacity has been severely reduced,¡± the medic continued softly. ¡°We¡¯re not sure by how much. That¡¯s something only you can tell us. When you¡¯re ready, will you do a mana check for me?¡± Nodding numbly, Momo repeated the words aloud, and a courier fell into her lap.
MP: 0/10 (1,000 MP not available to use)
Momo¡¯s eyes bugged. ¡°Ten?!¡± Sumire winced. Viktor bowed his head. The medic sighed, squeezing Momo¡¯s arm again. ¡°So¡­ what does this mean?¡± Momo babbled. ¡°I just can¡¯t ¡­ use spells anymore?¡± ¡°Effectively, yes.¡± ¡°And how long will it last? How long does it take to heal from?¡± ¡°Healing time is not linear. Sometimes, it never goes away. But the one thing you can do to make sure it doesn¡¯t get worse is to not use Mana,¡± the medic pressed. ¡°There are special recovery spells that I can show you. Ones that will utilize only the exact amount of Mana that you have left. Hopefully, if you practice them everyday, they will slowly, overtime, strengthen the pathways again. But performing any magic outside of the recovery spells pretty much ensures that this damage will be permanent.¡± Momo nodded along to what the medic told her, but the motions felt like they were being orchestrated by a being outside of herself¡ªa puppeteer with strings in her neck. Momo¡¯s entire body felt numb. She wasn¡¯t sure if it had felt that way the whole time, or only now, when she really allowed herself to feel it. The exhaustion had been building not for days, but for months¡ªshe had just been ignoring it, shoving it aside and ignoring the warning signs. I¡¯ve been pushing myself too hard for too long. ¡°So what can I do?¡± she said tiredly. ¡°Besides rest?¡± ¡°Well, in there lies the good news.¡± A spark of hope tore through Momo¡¯s overwhelming hopelessness. To her surprise, it was Sumire who moved next. She helped Momo into a sitting position, and then placed her two Nether rapiers into her lap. The pointed swords of solid obsidian gleaned in the light, even now. She saw her reflection in them. ¡°Feats of Strength don¡¯t require Mana,¡± the medic explained. ¡°Swordsmanship, by itself, is not a magical endeavor. We consulted the System Medic about these swords of yours, and we have determined that they are versatile weapons. They have magical power in their own right, which can be multiplied not only by the user¡¯s Intelligence and Mana, but by the user¡¯s Strength statistic. Of course, your Strength is currently very low compared to your overall level, but if you train it¡­¡± Momo leaned forward despite her aching body, eyes gleaming. ¡°So, wait¡ªwhat does that mean? That I could maximize the power in these swords without having to use Mana at all?¡± ¡°Yes, precisely.¡± The medic grinned. ¡°Not only that, but, given how high your Intelligence stat is, you could probably very quickly increase your Crafting ability. If you become a competent crafter, you could upgrade these swords into self-casting weapons, and have them fire spells without any Mana of your own being used. Of course, we¡¯re getting ahead of ourselves¡­¡± Momo¡¯s hopelessness had turned completely on its head, and now she was smiling full-force, teeth gleaming. Sure, it would require her worst fear¡ªregular exercise¡ªbut if she could find a way to keep leveling up without pushing past her limits, then Lesser Goddess still remained in her sights. ¡°But.¡± The medic raised her eyebrows threateningly. ¡°The most important thing, above all, is patience. Your Mana Pathways are no different than your muscles. If you don¡¯t learn to do without overdoing, you will be in the same situation again. But that time¡­¡± She gave Momo a grave look. ¡°There will be no upside.¡± Momo swallowed. ¡°Got it,¡± she nodded. Harping on the point, the medic demanded that Momo rest her head again, and that her party of onlookers leave her be while they ran some more diagnostics. With a quick, rib-damaging hug from Sumire, and a salute from Viktor, Momo was left alone once more, gazing at the beige ceiling. Despite her calm exterior and her aching body, rest was the last thing on her mind. Even though the effects of [Soul Cannibal] had long faded, a hint of that feverish adrenaline still lingered¡ªthat hunger. She felt it on the tip of her tongue, red and sugary and ripe. I¡¯m going to study the damn sword, she thought. And run Sera straight through with it. 243 – Book 3: Epilogue Far underground, beyond crags of broken bone and pits of rock, a small party of completely impartial judges convened to decide Nia¡¯s fate. ¡°For causing such grave injury to her majesty, she deserves no less than death by a thousand rocks,¡± Grimli said, nodding to himself. ¡°No, a hundred thousand rocks. No a hundred million thousand. And not rocks, but boulders, or maybe entire mountains¡ª¡± ¡°The amount of rocks hardly matters. For destroying my Chickenductor, the only appropriate punishment is for her to rebuild it,¡± Viktor said, shuffling in front of Grimli and retaking the dim spotlight which shone through the cracked ceiling. ¡°Rebuild it with handcuffs and feetcuffs. And blindfolded. With no instructions, and accompanied only by Grimli¡¯s terrible singing, dawn ¡®till dusk. Then, once that¡¯s complete, off to the gallows.¡± ¡°I object very seriously to your insinuation that my voice is a punishment¡ª¡± From the back of the small cavernous room, Sumire elbowed past both of them. ¡°This is why no one puts you two in charge,¡± she interjected. ¡°We hang her. Plain and simple.¡± ¡°No one is hanging, bouldering, or musically torturing anyone.¡± The room quieted as Momo limped forward, stepping towards the center of the room, where Nia¡¯s cage lay. It was an enclosure of impenetrable, magically-enhanced rock-steel. The woman on trial was binded to a chair, her hands and ankles restrained with mana-depleters. Momo, balancing her weight on her crutches, leaned forward so her face was nearly pressed to the bars. It was there that she studied Nia; the woman¡¯s gaze was pinned to the floor. Her body was sickly and thin, covered in tiny cuts, consequences of her connection with the Husk. She hadn¡¯t said a single word since they dragged her down here, to Gorim¡¯s former cell. The most impenetrable place in Morganium. ¡°Nia, what do you think your punishment should be?¡± You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. For the first time, the assassin looked up. Her eyes were dead like carcasses. She laughed dryly. ¡°Death seems straightforward enough.¡± Momo rolled her eyes. ¡°Come on, you can do better than that. I doubt your sister would be happy to hear you took the easy way out.¡± Her eyes seemed to brighten just a glint at the mention of her sister. ¡°Vivienne. What are you planning to do with her?¡± Momo looked at her oddly. ¡°Do with her? I¡¯m not Viv¡¯s keeper. By her own accord, she¡¯s decided that she¡¯s going to co-lead the city rebuilding effort with Sumire. She has a wealth of experience leading cities¡ªdefinitely more experience than me¡ªso I¡¯m in no position to say no. But I think she¡¯s mainly doing it so she can visit with you. Actually, I don¡¯t think that, I know that. She said it to me herself.¡± Nia stared at her for a prolonged amount of time. ¡°That so?¡± ¡°Yep,¡± Momo nodded. ¡°Swear it on Morgana.¡± Nia hummed, fidgeting with her chains. ¡°Then, as long as you¡¯re keeping Vivienne safe,¡± she thought aloud, ¡°I don¡¯t care what you do with me. My only request is that he¡±¡ªshe pointed to Grimli¡ª¡°and his vocal chords stay as far away as humanly possible. Thank you.¡± Grimli fumed. Momo laughed. ¡°Less ambitious than I¡¯d like,¡± Momo said. ¡°But better than wishing for suicide.¡± Momo tapped her chin for several seconds in thought, then drew one of her rapiers from her hip. Nia¡¯s eyes followed the tip of the blade nervously¡ªand then, when it made no threatening turn towards her¡ªwith curiosity. It was obvious that she was impressed by it, in a morbid sort of way. ¡°Are you going to stab me?¡± she asked. ¡°Stab you?¡± Momo yelped. That certainly hadn¡¯t been her intention. ¡°What would give you that impression?¡± ¡°Well, you are pointing a big long sword at me.¡± ¡°I¡¯m pointing it at you to make a point,¡± Momo grumbled. ¡°Not to threaten you.¡± ¡°Aren¡¯t those one and the same?¡± Momo sighed. ¡°No,¡± she said. ¡°The point is¡ªI know what your punishment is going to be. I¡¯ve known the whole time, I was just double checking that you weren¡¯t going to keep singing Sera¡¯s praises all night long. Then, regretfully, I would¡¯ve had to turn you over to Viktor.¡± It was unclear if Viktor¡¯s proposal simply frightened Nia more than her love for Sera, or if her love had simply withered out in the Husk¡¯s aftermath, but either way, the woman stayed stoically silent. That was good enough for Momo. Momo¡¯s plan didn¡¯t require undying loyalty, after all. It simply required expertise. Expertise from the best assassin in Aloysius. ¡°You, Nia Nightsbane,¡± she said, taking a deep, uncertain breath in. ¡°Are going to teach me how to use this thing.¡± 244 - Training Arc Momo lay with her face to the damp grass. Her mouth tasted like dirt and hot saliva; her arms ached, her back ached, her chin ached¡ªwhich she didn¡¯t even know was possible. It was the kind of full-body pain where it stopped becoming pain, and entered into the realm of utter numbness. She was no longer a person, she was no longer a girl or a demon: she was simply an arrangement of parts, a tied together suit of limbs which screamed, in heavenly concert, to never, ever exercise again. In other words, Momo was experiencing the joys of a regular cardio routine. ¡°Get up,¡± Nia commanded. The assassin stood above her like a gargoyle. They were standing in the middle of a wide open field, flattened grass for miles and miles. The sky was blue and perfect, the clouds out of a painting. Everything was surreally beautiful, almost mockingly so. ¡°I don¡¯t wanna,¡± she muttered into the dirt. ¡°Get up.¡± ¡°I¡ªNia, my everything is cramping.¡± ¡°That¡¯s how you know it¡¯s working. Now, up.¡± Nia shoved her boot under Momo¡¯s stomach, rolling her onto her back like a tipped cow. She winced as the full force of the sun beamed down on her. She was wearing nothing but tight exercise shorts and a tank top, but it still felt blistering. She groaned. ¡°We have a perfectly nice cold, underground cellar to practice in, you know.¡± ¡°Summer¡¯s heat turns rough rocks into diamonds,¡± Nia said, in that faux-poetic, sneering way she did sometimes. ¡°And, with practice, it might turn sedentary queens into barely-athletic human beings, too.¡± Momo was quite certain she just enjoyed seeing her in pain. Ears ringing, she fished the grass blindly for her sword; eventually, seconds or hours later, she found its hilt, stinging hot. Then, gripping it tightly, she hauled herself upward on wobbling legs, until she was vertical once more. The green fields spun like a dreidel. Standing before her was Nia, dressed in sun-eating black, and apathetic as ever. ¡°You look like a twig that¡¯s about to break off its trunk,¡± Nia remarked with a raised eyebrow. She pressed a hand roughly to Momo¡¯s chest, and watched the way she struggled to keep balance, her knees wavering. ¡°See? Terrible form. We¡¯ll have to work on that.¡± Nia wore mana-depleters on both wrists, but, unfortunately for Momo, that did nothing to suppress her physical prowess. Her body had a myriad of purple-brown bruises to show for it. ¡°On guard stance,¡± Nia said coolly. ¡°Give me half of X formation.¡± No energy left to complain, Momo obediently shifted her feet, and bent her knees, positioning her sword forward. Nia had insisted that she only train with one of her rapiers to start¡ªa gimmick that Momo thought they would abandon a week in¡ªbut, as Nia claimed, she hadn¡¯t earned the privilege of a second sword yet. It had been seven weeks now since they started training, and, by Nia¡¯s indication, Momo had gotten no closer to a breakthrough than a dog who offered its paw when it was supposed to bark. Her body was still as limp and useless as it was the day she got afflicted with Mana Disease; she could only run for up to three minutes, or fly for seven. The heaviest weight she could carry was Dusk, who she had begun to use as a barbell. But nothing¡ªnot running, not weightlifting (for as much as you could call bench pressing a cat weightlifting)¡ªfrustrated her more than this exercise. ¡°You ready?¡± Nia asked, craning her arm back. She wore a black, magically-enhanced brace on her left hand, protecting her fingers and forearm. ¡°If you want to back down, just say¡ª¡± ¡°Shut up,¡± Momo groaned, then began to count down. ¡°Three, two, one¡­¡± At once, Nia thrust her hand forward, and Momo sliced with her sword; the two collided with a sizzle of black energy, just holding each other, arm-wrestling. An all-powerful rapier versus Nia in a glorified bite sleeve, and it took all of Momo¡¯s strength just to keep Nia from overpowering her. She cried out, eyes closed, teeth biting down on her lip. Wind swirled around them like a mild hurricane; crackling energy surged from the place their weapons met. Nia began counting up. The ringing in Momo¡¯s ear got louder and louder, her wrists felt numb and weak, but she persisted. ¡°Six seconds, seven seconds, eight seconds, nine seconds, ten¡ª¡± ¡°Ten seconds?¡± Momo said, gasping for breath. ¡°That¡¯s a new¡ª¡± The wind rushed from her lungs. A hundred sparkling stars ran across her vision. ¡°Record,¡± Nia finished with a sigh, catching Momo in her arms before she fell into the dirt. For the second time that day, Momo had fallen completely unconscious. ¡°Right,¡± Nia said, rolling her eyes as she lifted Momo into her arms, bridal-style, and began walking towards the city once more. ¡°I think that concludes sword practice.¡± Momo awoke, hours later, to the smell of sea-salt tea. Her eyelashes fluttered open to find the familiar white-coated ceiling of Sumire¡¯s apartment staring back at her. Their apartment, as of a few months ago, when Sera toppled Momo¡¯s former highrise home like a domino. The pirate loomed above her, frowning softly, cup of tea already in hand. Her braids tickled Momo¡¯s cheeks as she placed the mug on her chest. It was warm, but not hot, just like Momo liked it. She brought it up to her lips and sipped casually. ¡°Fainting twice a day doesn¡¯t look like rest, Momo,¡± was the first thing out of Sumire¡¯s mouth. Momo winced. The tea might not have been scalding¡ªbut her tone was. Sumire took a seat on the couch next to her, resting her head to stare at the ceiling. Momo, never one to let tension simmer, nudged her with her foot, until she was facing her again. ¡°But I hit ten seconds today,¡± Momo whispered proudly. ¡°That¡¯s my best yet.¡± Sumire rolled her eyes, but a proud smile did creep up her lips. ¡°That¡¯s not the only form of progress worth measuring, idiot. For instance, I count your wins based on how many times Nia is delivering you, knocked out, to our living room.¡± Sumire sighed, then took a sip of her own tea. It clouded up the pirate¡¯s reading glasses endearingly. Momo deftly changed the subject. ¡°How¡¯s the rebuilding project going?¡± Stolen novel; please report. Sumire¡¯s eyes brightened, but then narrowed. ¡°Don¡¯t think I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re doing,¡± she said, slapping Momo¡¯s foot. ¡°But reconstruction is going well. We should be able to let people back into the capital soon. Not to mention that most of the chicken electricity lines are back online.¡± ¡°That¡¯s great.¡± ¡°It is,¡± she said, pointedly. ¡°It¡¯s something you should be proud of. Your queendom has survived multiple attempts on its life, and yet, she persists.¡± ¡°I wish it was so easy to put me back together,¡± Momo muttered into her tea. ¡°I wish I was made of bricks. And cement. That would be so much more convenient.¡± ¡°Sure, if I wanted to date a house,¡± Sumire groaned, and Momo laughed. She had a point. ¡°Don¡¯t be stupid. You¡¯re a human being. It¡¯s going to take time. I just¡­¡± Sumire softened. ¡°I want you to be able to appreciate what is improving. Not just fixating on what isn¡¯t.¡± ¡°Yeah, no, that¡¯s great¡­ I¡¯m sorry.¡± Momo brought her knees to her chest, and rubbed her temples in aggravation. ¡°The queendom matters way more than me losing my stupid little powers. It¡¯s funny, I just¡ªI used to never have powers, like not even in the supernatural sense. I couldn¡¯t even do algebra. I didn¡¯t realize how attached I was¡­¡± she paused. ¡°To necromancy. To being able to tap into the Nether like I did. And I can still feel that connection, like some kind of phantom limb, but I can¡¯t ¡­ I can¡¯t access it. I used to be able to innately sense my limits, you know? But now I just ram my head directly into the wall, head-first. Like cannonballing into concrete.¡± ¡°You mean constantly passing out into another woman¡¯s arms,¡± Sumire jabbed, cocking her head to the side and narrowing her eyes. ¡°Which I won¡¯t classify as cheating, but it¡¯s straddling the line pretty close¡ª¡± Momo laughed, pushing at the other woman¡¯s chest. ¡°You¡¯re ridiculous.¡± ¡°No, you are ridiculous. The medic said the only way to recover would be to recover. You need to do something that isn¡¯t magic, that isn¡¯t lifting your cat, or arm wrestling Nia¡ªyou need to find something that makes you stress less, not more,¡± Sumire pressed, her eyes wide, beautifully brown and vulnerable. But that vulnerability quickly changed to something sweeter¡ªenamoration. ¡°Come on, you idiot. Didn¡¯t you used to have hobbies?¡± Momo went quiet, blinking silently. Her mind went to her notebook. She had died an art major, after all. Not one with a degree to prove it¡ªbut still. ¡°I guess I did,¡± she mumbled. ¡°I would draw celebrities from television shows I liked. And my cat.¡± ¡°There we go,¡± Sumire said, pinching her nose. ¡°I was worried you were going to say no for a second. So,¡±¡ªshe clapped her hands together, and pressed her face closely to Momo¡¯s, so close the tips of their noses almost brushed¡ª¡°screw Nia. I¡¯m taking over this training program, and I have a better idea of what¡¯s going to get you to that breakthrough.¡± She got up from the couch and walked over to her set of drawers, opening one that required a small key. It was a thin drawer, one that could only hold several sheets of parchment. From it, she pulled out a map, wrinkly, worn and old. ¡°Back when I was a sea scavenger, we dug up a lot of old treasure maps. Most of them were bullshit,¡± she explained, folding the map out on the coffee table. Momo leaned over to look at it. It spanned the entirety of Alois, with several red symbols dotting the landscape. ¡°Even so, Akram and I spent a lot of time hunting down the marks on the slim chance that one might be genuine. This map was one of the rare ones¡ªwe nearly got rich off of it.¡± Momo¡¯s eyes glowed with interest, and she subconsciously leaned ever-closer to the woman. Her favorite thing about Sumire was always her storytelling; she could make anything¡ªreally, anything¡ªseem like a grand, popcorn-worthy tale. She once told a story about locating a bathroom that kept Momo glued to the edge of her seat. ¡°Nearly being the key word here,¡± Sumire said sorely, scowling; it was clear it was still a subject of deep-seated annoyance for her. ¡°A group of pirates from the Elven Empire beat us there, but, whatever. Who cares. It wasn¡¯t the treasure that really mattered anyway. It was where each gambit was buried. The landscape was¡­ utterly, disgustingly beautiful. The guy who buried all this treasure was a painter¡ªand you can tell. He picked the best landmarks this planet has on offer. I forced Akram to finish the map with me for that reason, even though I knew the chests would probably be empty. He was mad at me the whole summer, but it was so worth it.¡± ¡°That sounds beautiful,¡± Momo said warmly, a genuine smile taking over face. For the first time in weeks, she had been taken somewhere else¡ªeven if it was only in her mind, she felt the muscles of her body relax simply by envisioning Sumire charting that course. Sailing past mountains and deserts and rocky cliff sides. ¡°So, are you inviting me on a cruise across Alois, or something?¡± ¡°You wish,¡± Sumire grinned cheekily. ¡°No. Someone needs to run this city. And that person is, of course, the vastly more competent Vivienne, but someone has to watch her run this city, on the slim chance that she tries to turn it into a Sera-worshiping hellscape.¡± Momo snorted. ¡°I¡¯d admire her commitment if she tried, though. Third time¡¯s the charm.¡± Sumire rolled her eyes. ¡°Knowing you, you¡¯d pardon her again, then put her in charge again. Which is why I¡¯m not going anywhere. But you,¡±¡ªshe pressed a finger to Momo¡¯s chest, the same place that Nia had, trying to show Momo her own vulnerability¡ª¡°are going to get out of dodge for a bit. Just a bit. Like, a week. No grand, world-sweeping quests where I don¡¯t see your ass for half a year. No. I have just one place in mind.¡± She took a quill, dipped it in ink, and circled a specific place on the map. It was in the west of Aloysius, in the middle of a ragged pouch of mountains. Momo had only been to that area of the continent once before, and it was in the valley, not the mountains. That¡¯s where Valerica had her little experience farm full of mindless undead. A soft, lovely memory. ¡°There are these two parallel mountaintops there. The Twin Ivories,¡± Sumire continued, hoisting up two fingers. ¡°It¡¯s the one landmark I didn¡¯t get to see. And since I can¡¯t come with you, I¡¯m trusting you to capture it,¡±¡ªshe grabbed a fistful of art supplies from under her desk, and an empty, untouched journal¡ª¡°you can bring this, your swords, and a backpack. Oh, and Dusk. That¡¯s it. No one else. Especially not Nia.¡± Speechless, Momo shakily gripped the thin fabric of the notebook. It had a stunning cover. It was dyed blue, and it was embroidered with little sail boats, bobbing up and down through a leather sea. It was obviously hand-made. ¡°You¡¯re sure I can have this?¡± Momo said softly, pressing it to her chest. ¡°Yes,¡± Sumire said, then leaned in, pressing a kiss to Momo¡¯s cheek. ¡°But that better be one hell of a drawing. Now,¡±¡ªshe rose from the couch and yawned¡ª¡°I have to go check on the progress of the tower rebuilding. You can focus on breaking the news to your cat. This trip is as much for her as it is for you. She¡¯s getting incredibly overweight off that high-price tuna.¡± ¡°Overweight? She¡¯s literally a skeleton,¡± Momo complained, but Sumire was already out the door, and Dusk was encroaching on the couch. The cat had a difficult time adjusting at first to the new apartment¡ªit was a lot smaller of a domain than she was used to ruling¡ªbut she had soon come to like the cozy setting. It had a lot more furniture to ruthlessly scratch. Leaning down to catch her, Momo hoisted Dusk far above her head. Somehow, despite looking exactly the same, maybe Sumire was right. Her bones seemed¡­ more dense. ¡°Did you hear Mire? You and me are going on an adventure, buddy,¡± Momo informed her. Dusk meowed annoyedly in response, swatting her paw lightly at Momo¡¯s nose. ¡°Don¡¯t give me that. Of course I¡¯ll pack enough tuna.¡± That seemed to settle the cat. ¡°Yeah, that shut you up real fast,¡± she mumbled, shaking her head. How spoiled. ¡°And, you know, I¡¯m actually pretty¡­ excited. It¡¯ll just be you, and me, and a notebook. It¡¯ll be just like the old days with Luna back in highschool.¡± A flash of memory crossed her mind¡ªcurled up with her calico cat, buried under her comforter, sketching endless doodles as the television droned on. ¡°You never met Luna, but I think you two would get along. You¡¯re both stubborn, and hungry, and constantly complaining, but she had a lot more fur, and¡­ less exposed vertebrae.¡± It was only several moments after Dusk started whining to be put down that Momo even realized what she had been doing. Her mouth dropped open just a hair¡ªspeechless. It had been a struggle for her to lift Dusk for even a few seconds just a day before. In fact, she had been keeping a notebook on the table next to her, which she reached for, heartbeat pounding. Day 1: 4 seconds Day 2: 4 seconds Day 3: 3 seconds Day 4: 5 seconds Day 5: 6 seconds Day 6: 4 seconds ¡­ Day 40: 7 seconds Day 41: 7.2 seconds Oh my god. She kept Dusk lifted in her hands for as long as she could manage, even as the cat¡¯s complaints grew louder. It wasn¡¯t until her elbows started buckling in that she finally let the cat down. Breathing heavily, she reached for her pencil. Day 50: ~40 seconds? A minute? She stared at the page, unable to look away. Only when she became fully self-aware of how peaceful she had been in that minute, did the ringing in her ears return, full force, like a jet engine. It was almost like it had never left. But she knew it had, no matter how fleeting. For the first time in months, her brain hadn¡¯t been an endless loop of: I have to get my powers back, I have to get stronger, I have to rebuild the capital, I have to find Valerica, I have to save Morgana, I have to get back to the Nether. All she had been thinking about was her childhood cat, and a particularly awful sitcom episode. She sighed, stood, her knees wobbling, and grabbed her backpack off a hook on the wall. ¡°Come on, Dusk,¡± she said, lowering the backpack so the cat could jump inside. ¡°We have to leave before I have to tell Sumire she¡¯s right.¡± Ch. 245 – Fellow Passengers With a quick departing speech to those who still lived within the capital¡ªwhich was mostly the undead, who did not really have the capacity to care anyway¡ªMomo set off on what she was referring to as her one-week self-care sabbatical. By Sumire¡¯s research, it would only take a few days to reach the Twin Ivories via overnight carriage, so the remaining time was pure buffer. These overnight carriage services were a new thing to Momo, who, before ascending to queen, could barely afford a few meager minutes in someone else¡¯s vehicle. Valerica¡¯s budget for comfortable travel hadn¡¯t exactly been flexible. Actually, the only budget of hers which had been flexible was her bauble budget. It was too bad Momo had never actually gotten promoted to Dawn Accountant; despite her lack of mathematical ability, she was positive she could have made a meaningful improvement there. She would have likely put more¡ªread: any¡ªdigestible food on the cult dinner table. But that was neither here nor there. Where she was now was in bed, a luxurious bed, wrapped up in layers upon layers of dragonfur, smelling ridiculously expensive bottles of flower incense, and picking Dusk¡¯s bone dust¡ªyes, the cat was shedding bone¡ªout of her hair. It had been about a day since she departed the capital, and, unfortunately for her ego, Sumire had been right in every single way. This felt¡­ needed. The carriage Sumire had booked for her was sort of like a train without the tracks. It had several compartments for various guests, and each compartment was like a suite: a full bed, draped with regal furs and useless ornaments. A cat bed, a dog bed, a squirrel bed; they were obviously prepared and awaiting any and all types of companionable creatures. (They even included a small bell that the cat could ring when she wanted her food dish refilled. The bell, if it wasn¡¯t glaringly obvious, had to be removed about three hours in. Momo saw the chef throw it out the window.) Aside from the chef, the carriage included several drivers, each working in shifts in order to drive throughout the day and night. They reserved the smaller of the sleeping compartments, simple cots stacked like bunk beds, while the guests¡ªaka Momo, and a not-yet-seen traveling companion¡ªwould each get a bedroom and a shared dining space. ¡°Your highness?¡± After knocking three times, a lizard woman peeked her head through the doorway. Her name, Momo had come to learn, was Chevri. She was an apprentice to one of the drivers, and one of myriad refugees from Morganium. Her father was one of the chicken priests, and Chevri, very understandably, wanted to get as far away from that lifestyle as possible after turning nineteen. ¡°Hi,¡± Momo yawned, rolling her comforter down just enough to greet the lizard. ¡°You really don¡¯t have to call me that. Momo is fine.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not about you,¡± Chevri said humorously, kicking the door open lightly with her heel as she carried in a platter. It was brimming with steamed fish on rice. Not for Momo, of course. The lizard took it over to the cat¡¯s bed, laid it there, and gave Dusk a scratch on the vertebrae. ¡°It¡¯s about Moger. If he hears me referring to the guests impolitely, he¡¯ll drop me from the Ivories. And there¡¯s no way I¡¯m crawling back to,¡±¡ªshe pursed her lips, looking disgusted¡ª¡°Brother Hencrest.¡± Dusk began lapping at the food as Chevri dropped onto the side of Momo¡¯s bed, sighing. She was wearing an apron stained with various splotches of food. Momo could imagine it was tedious to work in a kitchen on wheels. No less one that was making the journey up the rocky mountainside. Momo had been woken up on many occasions to the sound of various cooking instruments hitting the ceiling. The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t let that happen,¡± Momo said, a guilty pit in her stomach. Even though she knew it wasn¡¯t her fault that Morganium had been leveled to dust¡ªagain¡ªshe still felt partly responsible. If it wasn¡¯t for her, Sera wouldn¡¯t have targeted the city in the first place. ¡°If Moger lets you go, I¡¯ll take you on.¡± Chevri snorted. ¡°Yeah, to do what, exactly? I¡¯m talentless. I got homeschooled by a chicken fanatic. Do you know what skills we focused on? Translating clucks. I¡¯m not exactly ready for some high-falutin job in the government. I want to be on the road. It¡¯s easier that way.¡± The mountains rolled by in Momo¡¯s window. They had only climbed about a ninth of the way towards the first peak, and it was already utterly eye-catching: a sea of evergreen trees dotted the valley below, bathed by a lavender sunrise. It was something out of a van Gogh painting. Her fingers itched to pull out her notebook and etch it to life there¡ªon paper. ¡°Me too,¡± Momo said, bringing her knees to her chest. ¡°I never thought I¡¯d say that.¡± She had never seen herself as much of a traveler. She had traveled, surely, but never willingly. It used to be compulsory, a necessary evil; her family would haul her from state to state like luggage in the back of their van; then she hauled herself to college, to a state as far away as physically imaginable to her at the time: New York. Then, finally, through cruel fate or maybe muscle memory, the universe whisked her here. But, in some space between then and now¡ªtraveling had become about more than escapism for her. She had stopped staring at the pavement and looked up at the trees. And as it turned out, they were beautiful. Everything¡­ was beautiful. She kind of wished she could return to Earth with the same eyes. The train car shook, and Dusk meowed in complaint, her food spilling onto the floor. ¡°Oh, great.¡± Chevri rose from the bed, almost as if she had been broken from a haze, and cleaned up the cat¡¯s food. ¡°You¡¯re bad for me, Momo. I always end up staying in here talking to you when I need to get back to the kitchen. Moger¡¯s going to notice one of these days and think I¡¯m sleeping with the clientele.¡± Momo blushed profusely. ¡°Oh, no, of course not. I¡¯d be happy to clear that up for him¡ª¡± ¡°Kidding.¡± Chevri smiled cheekily at her. ¡°Not get your ass up and to the dining area. I¡¯ll be serving breakfast in five. I even started experimenting with that dumpling recipe you gave me.¡± She headed for the door, and right before closing it, she peeked her out again for a final word. ¡°And it seems our other guest has finally decided to join us for breakfast today. So don¡¯t go saving leftovers for the cat. I will notice.¡± She shut the door, leaving Momo to gaze at it, mouth ajar. She had forgotten it wasn¡¯t just her on this journey. ¡ª Momo braced herself on the narrow walls of the carriage hallway as she transited from cart to cart. They were on a particularly rocky patch now, and it felt quite like journeying through the Drake Passage. Everything from the floorboards to the ceiling lamps were shaking like a nervous chihuahua, and it set Momo on edge. Once she emerged into the dining room, she noticed the chefs had readied precautions against this: everything was taped down, from the silverware to the food. Paperweights were stacked on top of bread, rubber band-looking contraptions held together layers of seafood. The room was small, and there was only one dining booth. It had two couch seats, parallel to each other, with a table in the middle. Someone had already taken purchase of the seat facing the direction of travel, and was gazing out the window, a hand perched on their chin. A wide-brimmed hat was covering the person¡¯s face, vieling them from view. But Momo didn¡¯t need to see a face to recognize those horns. They were curved and black, protruding from either side of the person¡¯s headwear. Those weren¡¯t just horns¡ªthose were dokkaebi horns. The brim of the hat raised, and a tan, lithe face greeted her. One pupil red, the other black. ¡°Ah. There you are,¡± the dokkaebi said, and when he breathed out, it looked like a puff of smoke had sizzled up from a volcano. He rose from his seat, his posture a jagged precise line, and held out a gloved hand. Completely taken aback, she let him take her hand, and he smiled devilishly. ¡°Good to meet you, cousin. No introductions necessary, really. You¡¯re Momo, I¡¯m Venice, and Morgana, well¡­¡± He pulled at the rim of his hat. ¡°I¡¯m here to invite you to her funeral.¡± 246 – Side Effects of Godly Depression Momo¡¯s face drained of color. Everything was suddenly grayscale: black and white and utterly terrible. The walls, once a fluorescent pink, looked muddy and tired. The food, unappetizing. Even the view out of the window¡ªmajestic waterfalls descending from mountain peaks¡ªfelt completely uninteresting. She had the urge to draw the shades over them. ¡°Is this some kind of joke?¡± she said, voice hoarse. ¡°What do you mean funeral?¡± She gripped onto the side of the booth for support as Venice took a seat once again. The shaking of the cart didn¡¯t seem to affect him; he was unnaturally steady, composed. ¡°Well, you know.¡± He waved his hand around noncommittally. ¡°Flowers. Sad speeches. A casket. Crying relatives. Or, in Morgana¡¯s case, apathetic children and a negligent ex-husband.¡± Her blood boiled. ¡°This is a funeral in the godly sense, right?¡± she asked sternly, finding the seat across from him. She didn¡¯t have the stamina to stand anymore. The severity of her Mana Disease symptoms very annoyingly tended to correlate directly with her state of mind. ¡°Like, the dramatic I¡¯m not dead but I might as well be, kind of way?¡± Venice laughed, looking astonished. ¡°Well, of course. You didn¡¯t think she died, did you?¡± Relief washed over her in an instant. ¡°The thought did cross my mind, yes,¡± she muttered. ¡°When you said funeral.¡± He giggled lightly, as if this was all greatly amusing. Then he reached into his satchel, perched next to him in the seat, and revealed an envelope. It had Morgana¡¯s signature koi fish and snakes embroidered on the label. Momo¡¯s name was written on the front in cursive. She reluctantly took it from him, frowning. Peeling off the seal, she pulled out a scroll. It was the same parchment used by the couriers. A nagging inconsistency bit at her. ¡°Why are you delivering this to me?¡± she asked, looking up with a skeptical frown. ¡°If Morgana wanted to reach me directly, she could have sent a courier. Same with Valerica. But it¡¯s been radio silence from both of them.¡± ¡°Oh, how tragic,¡± Venice said, eyes widening as he elongated the syllable. ¡°You really are behind. Morgana hasn¡¯t been in charge of things for awhile now. First, she was ill, then she began to decline¡­ Valerica spends all her time looking after her, the darling she is. First Sera took over, then when her plans went up in flames, Kyros slid in to tame the fumes. It¡¯s terribly sad, all of it.¡± He clicked his fingernails together. ¡°But a simple lesson about the fickle nature of loyalty. Allegiances shifted. The cat won. Morgana lost. Now Kyros is putting the final nail in the coffin. A godly funeral is the biggest white flag in existence.¡± He grinned, seemingly amusing himself. ¡°Entirely metaphorical, of course. The gods can¡¯t kill each other. It¡¯s one of the first laws of the universe.¡± As he spoke, Momo thought back to that very creation moment¡ªthe museum of haikus where she wrote her own rule into the System. ¡°But they can wage masterful psychological warfare. The type of gaslighting to make,¡±¡ªhe paused, then contemplated her thoughtfully¡ª¡°Regina George weep. That was an apt reference, wasn¡¯t it? I¡¯ve been spending a lot of time in the Earth replicant area recently.¡± ¡°If the gods can¡¯t die, then how is Morgana ill?¡± Momo asked, frustrated. ¡°Did she catch a cold that won¡¯t go away, or something? I don¡¯t get it.¡¯ Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. ¡°Hmm. Yes. Another thing that¡¯s been lost in translation.¡± He tapped his fingers to the table, thrumming rhythmically. ¡°Let me see¡­ depressed. I think that¡¯d be the word for it. She¡¯s depressed. Terminally so. And who could blame her? All her children have abandoned her. No, worse, they¡¯ve conspired against her. So she decided to abandon the universe in turn. Left it to fend for itself. It¡¯s a perfectly natural response, really.¡± Momo¡¯s lips parted in disbelief. So there it was. Morgana hadn¡¯t been thrown in captivity, or struck through the heart without some mighty, god-slaying greatsword. No. She¡¯d been taken down with the kind of insidious warfare that Momo was most intimately familiar with: self-sabotage. Morgana hadn¡¯t lost. She¡¯d given up. Momo never could have imagined that God herself would be so relatable. But still, despite his convincing reasoning, the cogs turned in her head. It was hard to believe someone like Morgana would have just willfully decided to raise the white flag. ¡°But what¡¯s stopping her from taking control again?¡± she asked, leaning forward. Her despair had been taken over by a detective-like curiosity. ¡°Isn¡¯t the universe hers, rightfully? Isn¡¯t that encoded in the Book of Creation?¡± ¡°Well, partially, yes. Her and Kyros have equal stake. She has the right to rule at least half the universe¡¯s mortal subjects. But when the funeral is over, she will withdraw that right, and give it fully to Kyros.¡± Momo¡¯s jaw clenched, and she rose from her seat, fire in her stomach. ¡°There¡¯s no way in hell Valerica would sit by and let her do that. I don¡¯t believe you.¡± ¡°Oh, down girl,¡± Venice said with a surprised laugh, lifting his hat to look at her. ¡°Of course Valerica has tried to reason with her, but she rarely has time for that anymore. She¡¯s too consumed with fending off the surplus of Nether Demons. The damn insects have been popping up at every corner of the Nether these days. Godly depression will have that effect.¡± The Nether Demons. The empty, unguided, cannibalistic matter of the universe. Sometimes I forget that I¡¯m not the only one in existence, Momo thought, recalling her class description. The real ones sound terrifying A look of confusion crossed over her face. ¡°So you mean¡­ Morgana¡¯s condition is causing more Nether Demons to appear? More than before?¡± ¡°Precisely,¡± Venice said, then leaned in, dropping his voice to a low, ominous octave. At this proximity, Momo couldn¡¯t make out a single pore on skin¡ªit was unnaturally perfect and dry, like a plastic toy. ¡°If things keep going as they are, by the time she has that funeral, there will be no Nether left to rule, really. Kyros won his gambit, but he¡¯s going to pay for it dearly, too.¡± The way he said it, it sounded more like a prophecy than an idle hypothesis. A shiver ran down Momo¡¯s back. ¡°That seems¡­ pessimistic,¡± she said quietly. ¡°Can¡¯t the gods cast out the Nether Demons?¡± ¡°One at a time, surely. But you can think of them as a colony of fire ants. One alone is just dust under your shoe¡­¡± Venice¡¯s fingers walked idly along the table like a happily little stick figure. ¡°But if you get caught in a horde of them¡­¡± He splattered his hand down, palm flat, shaking the entire cart. ¡°If Morgana¡¯s condition continues to deteriorate,¡± he said sharply, staring straight into Momo¡¯s soul. ¡°The entire universe will be nothing more than dust. Dust and fire ants.¡± Momo sat there, frozen speechless, as Venice stood. His horns lodged themselves in the ceiling of the cabin, but he didn¡¯t seem to notice. ¡°Well then. It seems I accomplished what I set out to do here. It was lovely meeting you, cousin.¡± He brushed off his suit, and turned towards the carriage¡¯s exit. The exit was not to be used while they were actively moving, and much less when they were actively moving up a mountainside. But this did nothing to dissuade him. His hand on the doorknob, he finished: ¡°If you¡¯re wondering how to get to the Nether without that Mana of yours, try that Nether Nectar. Don¡¯t mind the taste, though. It can be a little¡­¡± He snapped his fingers, trying to remember the word. ¡°Prickly.¡± He thrust open the door, and wind gushed through, buffeting his clothes. Momo watched, awestruck, as he flung himself onto the side of the road, hopping to the ground as if he hadn¡¯t just exited a moving vehicle. She pressed herself to the window to try and get a better look at him, but he was already gone. All there was to see were trees and clouds and mountain dirt. She wasn¡¯t sure just how long she stared out the window, but she became aware, eventually, that the food had gotten cold. A lump in her stomach, she picked a few pickles and pieces of cheese off the platter, took them onto a plate, and sat across from where Venice had been. The invitation, unread, stared back at her. Something about it just felt wrong. As if... Her eyes widened. The handwriting. Valerica 247 – Wyrmeridge She could recognize Valerica¡¯s handwriting anywhere. The curvy way she wrote her M¡¯s, the small hearts inside each O. And if it was Valerica writing it, then this letter wasn¡¯t just some standard-issue funeral invitation. It was her first communication with Momo in months. Her first communication with her since the Viper. Nerves eating at her insides, Momo peeled open the envelope and unfurled the scroll inside. Strangely, while the page itself was long, only two sentences were written on it. Hello darling. Be a dear and pour my favorite condiment on this scroll. It¡¯s a bit hard to read when dry. Momo laughed in disbelief. Of course. A riddle. It wouldn¡¯t be Valerica without one. But she could understand why; the means in which they could communicate were only getting more and more easy to intercept. With Kyros newly in charge, even the other dokkaebis¡ªformerly Morgana¡¯s devout servants¡ªdidn¡¯t seem trustworthy. Something about Venice had made her skin crawl in particular. She looked down at her still-full plate, nudging her uneaten food with her fork as she contemplated Valerica¡¯s message. Her favorite condiment... All Valerica liked eating was insects, and she certainly didn¡¯t season them with anything conventional. Momo¡¯s attempts to introduce her to mayonnaise and ketchup had been futile; the only thing she enjoyed dunking her prey into was¡­ Her eyes widened. Of course. Poison. Then she grimaced. That wasn¡¯t exactly something she had packed for the trip. ¡ª She knocked twice on the kitchen cart door. She heard the sound of someone yelping, then what was probably a knife and several plates clattering to the floor. Chevri was easily surprised; something that did not combine well with the already jittery cabin. ¡°Oye, Chevri!¡± Moger, the chef, yelled. ¡°For the last time, keep your hands on the cutlery!¡± ¡°Yes, chef. Sorry, chef.¡± ¡°You better be,¡± he growled. ¡°You¡¯ll be really sorry when you end up slicing my ear off.¡± ¡°Won¡¯t happen, chef.¡± A moment later, the door to the cabin rapidly slid open, thudding against the wall. A disgruntled Chevri greeted Momo; her already-dirty apron was covered in tomato paste, her hands were nursing bandaids, and she was wearing an eye-patch on one eye. ¡°Oh my god,¡± Momo said, covering her mouth in shock. ¡°Your eye¡­¡± ¡°Is fine,¡± she grimaced. ¡°Moger¡¯s just making me wear it as a precautionary measure.¡± Moger stood several paces behind her on a small stool, his back to them. He was rather short, even for a dwarf, and wore an alarmingly tall chef¡¯s hat in what Momo could only assume was an effort to overcompensate for his height. He busied himself chopping and dicing onions, throwing them into a simmering broth. It smelled intoxicating. ¡°Aye, that¡¯s right,¡± he said, giving the pot a stir. ¡°It¡¯s inevitable that she¡¯ll lose an eye due to all that clumsiness. So might as well protect the other one while we can.¡± Chevri sighed. ¡°What do you need, Mo¡ª¡± She paused, schooling her frown into a polite smile. ¡°Queen Momo, your majesty.¡± As Momo was about to open her mouth, a grainy sound played over the wagon¡¯s magical intercom. It was the driver, Grundel. She had heard his voice a few times during the trip so far¡ªmostly apologizing for turbulence, i.e. Momo¡¯s head being thrust into the wall repeatedly. The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. ¡°We¡¯ll be arriving at our first stop, Wyrmeridge, in two hours. We¡¯ll take a rest there until tomorrow afternoon, so feel free to do some touristing.¡± Wyrmeridge. They had handed her a pamphlet on the place the day she boarded the carriage. It was the first stop on the journey up towards the Ivories, and one of the more popular ones. It apparently had a fantastic view of the waterfalls. ¡°Thank god,¡± Chevri said, stress releasing from her shoulders. ¡°I¡¯ve been needing a smoke break for ages. I nearly considered throwing myself into the road like our last passenger did just for the chance to light one.¡± Momo frowned at her like a pitying auntie. ¡°You smoke? Don¡¯t do that. You¡¯re so young.¡± Chevri rolled her eyes. ¡°You¡¯re like, four feet tall. Don¡¯t tell me what to do.¡± Moger turned his head slowly, like a gargoyle. His cheeks were burning with fury. ¡°CHEVRI!¡± he growled, his facial expression scarier than the sharpened knife in his hand. ¡°I must have heard you wrong.¡± Chevri looked like she had been caught mid-murder attempt. Momo couldn¡¯t even pity her on that one. Using a short joke in the proximity of a dwarf was like telling a hammerhead shark they had a big forehead. Absolutely asking for it. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Mr. Moger,¡± Momo said politically, leaning to the side so she could flash him a polite smile. ¡°Chevri¡¯s sense of humor is just a little ¡­ underdeveloped.¡± ¡°Oh, that¡¯s putting it lightly,¡± Moger said, foaming at the mouth. Even so, he seemed to reign it in. His commitment to customer service was commendable. ¡°My apologies, my queen. But if you need me to teach her a lesson¡ª¡± ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it.¡± Momo waved her hand. ¡°I just need one second of her time.¡± This seemed to placate the chef, who went back to his chopping, muttering nonsensical profanities under his breath. Chevri looked at her with a mixture of gratitude and annoyance. ¡°I¡¯d say thanks, but I know he¡¯s going to make me pay for it later,¡± the lizard girl muttered quietly. ¡°But at least I¡¯ve got a few moments of serenity. What can I get you?¡± Momo gave her a guilty smile. ¡°Do you have any¡­ How do I put this.¡± She winced before speaking. ¡°Poison?¡± Chevri snorted. ¡°You mean like, alcohol?¡± Momo¡¯s eyes widened. I wonder if that would count. Probably not. Valerica¡¯s tastes were a bit more intense than a nip of vodka. And she didn¡¯t want to accidentally ruin the page by pouring the wrong substance. ¡°Unfortunately, no. Something a little stronger. Enough to put down a horse.¡± Chevri leaned against the wall, her shoulder vibrating as the wagon jittered along. ¡°Look, I don¡¯t know what kind of nefarious stuff you¡¯re getting up to, but¡­ Wyrmeridge might have something,¡± she suggested after a moment, looking slightly uncomfortable. ¡°There are witches there. Pretty powerful ones.¡± ¡°Witches?¡± Momo said, intrigued. She had met mages of all kinds¡ªbut what made one a witch, she wasn¡¯t sure. All she knew is that Sera had referred to Valerica as one repeatedly. Chevri nodded. ¡°Mountaintop witches. I met a few of them on my first drive up to the Ivories. Their magic is usually derived from powders and concoctions, not spells.¡± ¡°Interesting,¡± Momo mumbled. But with how the System worked, she knew they had to be tied to someone in the pantheon. ¡°Which deity do they worship?¡± ¡°I think they¡¯re unaffiliated.¡± ¡°Unaffiliated?¡± Her eyes widened. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ possible?¡± Chevri nodded. ¡°Sure it is. There was a time before the Class System, you know. The gods created us, sure, but for a long time, they didn¡¯t give us any way to advance in power. So people had to turn to other means. Natural ones. Potions, elixirs.¡± Momo hummed. Right. I forgot about that. There were mortals before there was a System. In fact, it seemed obvious to her now, seeing as Earth was one of the planets without one. ¡°Uh huh,¡± Momo said slowly, digesting the information. ¡°It¡¯s actually like that still, where I¡¯m from. People who want to be strong and fast take things called steroids. People who want to be smart take¡­ well¡­¡± Her mind drifted towards all the drugs she had been prescribed. ¡°Really?¡± Chevri¡¯s eyes lit up. ¡°I thought you were from the Vagrant Dunes. I was under the impression they largely worshiped the orc guy. At least, that¡¯s what my father taught me.¡± Momo laughed nervously. She had also forgotten about the made up backstory she sold to people during the election. ¡°Not exactly. But, anyway.¡± She turned away from the door. ¡°Thanks for the tip.¡± ¡°Anytime, weirdo,¡± she said quietly. ¡°Now, back to carrot-shredding purgatory I go.¡± ¡ª ¡°Ladies and gentlemen¡ªerr, I suppose, now it¡¯s just lady¡ªwe have arrived in Wyremeridge.¡± As the wagon came to a gentle halt, Momo balanced her arms on the windowsill, gazing down at the steep cliff below her. It was nearly a ninety degree angle drop down. From what she could see from the window, the entire city of Wyrmeridge seemed to sit similarly just at the edge of certain death: houses teetering on mere pebbles, large buildings of white rock bellying from the mountainside. The city sat on a circular ridge of mountains, a curvature of waterfalls that descended into a valley far below. In the far distance, parallel to where they were now, Momo could see a statue of a wyvern. Its marble wings and curving snout were both covered with snow. ¡°It¡¯s beautiful,¡± she said, awed. Her breath fogged up the glass. For a moment, everything felt simple again. She was on vacation. She was on a proper mountainous retreat. This is what she had come here for¡ªthe views, the serenity. She knew that she had to deal with Morgana, and Valerica, and the Nether, and all those big, cataclysmic things, but. For the first time, she didn¡¯t really care. The Nether had been in jeopardy for eons. Time there passed at a completely different speed; she didn¡¯t need to solve it all by tomorrow. More importantly, there was no way she was going to save Morgana without saving herself, first. ¡°Come on, Dusk,¡± she said, beckoning the cat with a mischievous smile. ¡°You haven¡¯t had a poison-coated cat treat in a while.¡± 248 – Rise & Fall As it turned out, Chevri¡¯s tip about the witches wasn¡¯t exactly a secret; the town¡¯s population was a whopping twenty-two, and half of those belonged to the local cult. ¡°They¡¯re¡­ ah yeah, over there,¡± the lizard girl said, hand-wavingly, as she gestured to the other side of the mass abyss. Across the chasm of waterfalls, and below the statue of the wyrm, was a cozy but massive cottage. It was decorated in weeds and ivy and ice-colored blossoms. From afar, Momo saw figures that might have been women, but she wasn¡¯t sure. It was too foggy to tell. She set out, determinedly, to get over there, as Chevri put it, but there was one glaring problem: the geography. The cliffside town ran in a semicircle, and while there was a small path carved out starting where they had parked the carriage, and running up through a small assortment of houses and an inn, the path ended about halfway towards the witches¡¯ nook. There, the path was bisected by a waterfall. The only way through was a small, uneven trail of floating rocks, levitating just above the water. Below them, a massive drop. And there was no cheating around the thing. It was too far to fly in Momo¡¯s current condition, and it wasn¡¯t like the carriage could just carry her across. Momo¡¯s stomach did flips as she approached it. ¡°Alright, bud,¡± she said, squatting down to meet the Dusk¡¯s eyes. Only, the cat didn¡¯t reciprocate. Instead, it meticulously studied the route of floating rocks in a way Momo recognized. ¡°Dusk, do not cross that by yourself. You¡¯ll di¡ª¡± The cat flagrantly disobeyed her, hopping forward and landing easily on the first rock. Momo went pale and she yelled at Dusk to stop it, but the cat just sprang from one rock to another, and before she knew it, Dusk was on the other side, licking her paws as she laid in the grass. ¡°That was very rude,¡± Momo shouted, but her words died under the loud thrush of the waterfall. She looked down, trembling. The drop was so far. But she didn¡¯t have a choice. She needed that poison. She yearned to know what idiotic and confusing series of words Valerica had strung together this time. If only I could flap my wings for more than 2 seconds, or use my Mist form to cross over, this wouldn¡¯t be scary at all¡­ But she wasn¡¯t strong enough for that. Trepidatiously, she extended one foot. The first rock was reasonably large, and she managed to get onto it with little problem. The second was smaller, but her reflexes were still decent thanks to her Nether Dokkaebi upgrade, and soon enough, she was halfway across. It was so easy, in fact, that she started to get a little too confident, and¡ª ¡°Shit!¡± Her ankle gave way, and she slipped, the rushing waves overtaking her. Water gushed down her throat and over her head as she hung on desperately with her fingers to one of the jagged rocks. She coughed, wheezed, using every bit of her strength to grip onto the wet sediment. Dusk jumped to her, uselessly gnawing at her fingers to try and pull her forward, but it was no use. The cat was nowhere near strong enough. No¡­ She groaned, trying and failing to push herself upward. I can¡¯t die now¡­ This would be almost as stupid as a death as my first one¡­ The longer she held on, the more slippery it became. And as she became more desperate, the thought crossed her mind to try and use her Mana¡ªto enter Overdrive again¡ªbut doing that would mean the end of her magic, permanently. The medic had warned her as much. As her fingers twitched with their last bit of strength, a memory of Nia entered her mind, unbidden. It was back on the field near Morganium. They were doing that exercise Momo always hated¡ªMomo¡¯s sword against Nia¡¯s hand¡ªand Momo was losing, badly. But instead of finally backing off, as Nia usually did, the assassin instead offered a word of advice. Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. Clear your mind, idiot, she said. The harder you try, the harder you¡¯re going to fall. It was advice in a particularly Nia sort of way. It hadn¡¯t made sense to her then. She wasn¡¯t sure how mindfulness was supposed to suddenly turn her into a better swordarm. But now, on the verge of falling off a waterfall, it clicked. She stopped struggling, and she let herself¡­ fall. She plummeted for several moments before her wings stretched out; she swooped downward, catching air, and used the momentum of the fall to spin her right back up. She soared through the water, her wings becoming wet with the cold, magical chill of the waterfall, the fresh air buffeting her cheeks and running through her hair. For a moment, a bare millisecond, she stopped thinking of the inevitability of falling again, of the certainty that there was only so long she could persist in the air, and just took in the majesty of the scenery: A mountain ridge, barricaded by waterfalls, descending for miles and miles down into a pit of frothy white. Everything gleamed with the sun, as if this was the pit of heaven itself. A broad smile ran across her face. She didn¡¯t even notice her feet landing back on the rocks when they did. It felt as natural as a baby crawling, she simply was in the air, and then she wasn¡¯t; she was on the other side now¡ªa few yards away from the witches¡¯ commune, in the tall, unyielding grass. She had done it, without using an extra bit of Strength. She had simply let the wind carry her. To her surprise, as she was about to walk forward toward the witches¡¯ house, a soft voice whispered in her ear. One she hadn¡¯t heard in a while.
Congratulations! Due to your rigorous physical training with the rapier, and your display of finesse in piloting through the skies without using an ounce of your own muscle, you have gained a level in the class [Seraph]. [Seraph] now occupies your second major class slot.
Momo¡¯s jaw dropped, pride and astonishment filling her chest. A new major class? She had completely forgotten that since Nether Demon had combined her Demagogue and Nether Dokkaebi classes, she had once again opened up her second major class slot.
[Seraph] is an expert class under the domain of Ytra, Goddess of Balance and Healing. Seraphs are the famous flying warriors of Ytra, a protective class of support heroes which come to the aid of the wounded in battle. Their skillset is a mix of close-quarters combat, flying projectiles, and healing spells.
Ytra? Momo blinked. I don¡¯t remember ever hearing about her. Then again, peacekeepers tended to be like that¡ªunseen, unheard. But yet again, this Ytra was still a child of Morgana¡¯s, and that made her a plausible threat. She shoved the thoughts aside, too excited to worry. The voice continued.
[Seraph] is a dual Strength/Intelligence class. Since this is your first class utilizing Strength, a few notes from the System Admins:
  • Strength-based skills require Stamina to cast, not Mana
  • If you push past your Stamina limits, you will enter Fatigue, then Exhaustion
  • Some Strength-based skills can have their effects multiplied by using certain weapons, or, in the case of the [Pugilist], by being unarmed.
You have gained the passive skills [Equivalent Exchange] and [Effortless Flight] [Equivalent Exchange]: For every blow a foe lands on you, there is a 5% chance (increasing by 5% with each blow) that they will be hit for the same damage. [Effortless Flight]: Flying no longer requires Stamina. You have also gained + 30 STR
She grinned giddily as she brought up her System panel, reviewing her new skills. This class was perfect for her current situation. Not only would she be able to fly without expending any extra energy, but that immense boost to Strength would make walking and running much easier¡ªtypically easy tasks which her Mana Disease had reduced to tiresome chores. Not only that, but Seraph was a perfect compliment to her Nether Demon class. It would help her excel with her rapier, while also possibly unlocking ways for her to heal herself and others. For the first time in a while, Momo felt hopeful. 249 – Ambush The witches of Wyrmeridge were certainly not your decrepit, wrinkly, hunchback sort of women; they were by and large young, wore frilly dresses and bangles, with little bells hanging at their ankles which rang constantly as they frolicked around the yard. They danced around a central wooden pole, hands woven together, singing hymns before taking breaks to garden, pick berries, or stew something inside. How cute, Momo thought. Well, as cute as a cult can be. Momo approached them cautiously. Unfortunately, one of the witches spotted her immediately, pointing a finger at her with wide, awed eyes. She broke from the dancing group and bounded towards Momo. ¡°An angel,¡± were the first words out of her mouth, her umber brown skin shining under the sunlight. She leaned close, and caressed Momo¡¯s black wing feathers. ¡°Tribeca, it¡¯s an angel.¡± Momo laughed nervously. ¡°I promise you, I¡¯m not an angel. My name¡¯s Momo¡ª¡± Another woman, presumably Tribeca, approached her as a zookeeper might an animal; she held a sharpened scythe towards Momo. The curved blade clashed hard with the frilly, floral aesthetic of her robes. It was like running into an armed kindergarten teacher. ¡°That¡¯s not an angel, Zie. It¡¯s a tourist,¡± Tribeca said, evidently aggravated that their group dance got interrupted. Several of the women had fallen in the grass when the rhythm broke. ¡°If you¡¯ve got money to spend, stop mucking about in our yard and talk to Laura. She¡¯s inside.¡± Zie put her hands on her hips, defiant. ¡°No way. I know an angel when I see one. She¡¯s got that pure, doughy looking face. Like you could bake bread with those cheeks.¡± Momo blushed. ¡°Thank you,¡± she said quickly. ¡°I¡¯ll just be inside.¡± Zie tried to prolong her visit in the garden, but Momo was¡ªeven in her damaged state¡ªquicker than most. She slipped in through the massive wooden doors as another witch was slipping out, and smiled unconsciously as the natural fragrance filled her nostrils. Back on Earth, her dad had a habit of bringing in things from the garden to decorate the living room. Small twigs. Stones. Pressed flowers. Her mom thought it made the house look like a campsite, but Momo loved it. She felt like a faerie. The cabin opened to a wide, open-plan chamber. It looked a bit like the lobby at a gimmick-hotel, where all the female staff were forced to wear flower crowns and aprons and summer dresses. One witch worked the main desk, inking and stamping parchment. Many more filtered quickly in and out of the main chamber and into adjacent storage rooms, carrying baskets full of potions; potions which, once arranged, were deposited into sealed packages, and piled high behind the front desk witch. All of that was to say, it was a real operation. Aside from the witches in charge of parcels, there were two more in the back who were sat by cauldrons. They looked more like scientists than witches, really; they held delicate measuring instruments to their noses, peering down over spectacles as liquid dribbled up and down their tubes. Sometimes they¡¯d drop in a new ingredient into the cauldron, and there¡¯d be a brief flash of blinding light, and a sound like a radioactive explosion, but this didn¡¯t seem to interrupt anything¡ªthe witches simply kept their routine going, nonetheless. ¡°Wyrmeridge Witches, can I help you?¡± The witch at the front desk eyed her lazily. Despite the cacophony of chaos surrounding her, it seemed that Momo¡¯s silent awe was the most disruptive thing present. ¡°Oh, hi, yes, hello. You must be Laura,¡± Momo said, uttering a bunch of nonsense as she approached the desk. There was a chair there made of ivy and vines, and the witch gestured for her to sit, so she did. ¡°I was wondering if I could purchase some poison?¡± ¡°Poison?¡± Laura repeated. She didn¡¯t sound surprised, but she did seem mildly offended. Not that her face showed it¡ªshe was half looking at Momo, half pressing stamps to paper. ¡°This is an elixir shop. Not a poison emporium. We sell fully finished potions, not ingredients.¡± ¡°Oh,¡± Momo frowned. ¡°But you do have poison?¡± ¡°Of course we have poison. Half of our elixirs use it as a main ingredient,¡± Laura laughed, but it was so lifeless that it was more like a cough. ¡°But it''s a proprietary poison. Older than you and your mother and your grandmother. We don¡¯t sell it to System-theists.¡± ¡°...Right,¡± Momo swallowed. Maybe one of the potions will do? ¡°Do you have any potions that would have the same effect as poison if I spilled them on something?¡± she said. ¡°Say, a piece of paper?¡± Laura looked up from the page, and gave her a look of true revulsion. ¡°Why would you spill a potion on something intentionally?¡± Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. She looked back down at the parchment, and stamped with greater emphasis now, as if the page was somehow a personification of Momo¡¯s face. ¡°Potions are for consumption,¡± she said coldly, and Momo felt it like a bee sting. ¡°They have always been for consumption. I don¡¯t know what you System-users think they¡¯re for, but I¡¯m not interested in selling to someone who doesn¡¯t even respect the basic principles.¡± Momo grimaced. This is not going remotely well. She dug into her pocket, hoping to find some candy for a [Sweet Deal] attempt, but no such luck. She had stolen a bunch from the carriage dinner buffet initially, but she ended up feeding it all to Dusk by mid-afternoon. Greedy cat. Luckily, she still had [Charmer]; the spell that allowed her, for sixty seconds, to increase the target¡¯s disposition by as many Charisma points as Momo possessed. And it could be casted silently. Just as Momo was about to think it, she froze¡ª I¨CI can¡¯t. She had totally forgotten. For a moment, her body had felt so normal, so perfectly pain free, that the events of the last few months had completely fallen to the wayside. She had been moments away from potentially cooking her mana pathways to dust, all over a potion, and it hadn¡¯t even occurred to her. ¡°Did you see a ghost or something?¡± Laura pried, not looking up from her parchment. ¡°You look as white as a sheet of parchment. Please, if you¡¯re going to faint, do it elsewhere. That seat is reserved for customers only, and I don¡¯t give out free samples.¡± The witch stood as something arrived¡ªno, flew¡ªthrough one of their open windows. It was a tiny dragon. A small, thin, scaled beast, no bigger than Dusk, with a letter in its jowls. Laura scratched the creature once under the mouth, trying to get it to drop the letter, but it refused. It began snarling, and jumping up and down on the desk. Her audio courier introduced the beast.
Type: Wyrm. Level 7.
¡°What¡¯s got you so riled up?¡± Laura said, annoyed. The creature continued puffing white smoke out of its nostrils. ¡°What is it?¡± A noise like an atom bomb detonated outside. The entire cabin shook, planks falling from the ceiling, the wyrm squealing, Laura shrieking. Momo fell from her chair, and the doors to the cabin swung open. It was Zie and Tribeca, hair mussed, faces matted with sweat, eyes brimming with alarm. ¡°What¡¯s happened?¡± Laura said, shooting from her chair. All of the witches, previously sputtering around in perfect harmony, were now huddled around her, terrified. Groaning, Momo raised herself, and peered through the wide open doors. In the sliver of space between the two women, she saw snow. It was laying on the ground in large clumps. The grass was perfectly green just a minute ago. When did that snow get there? ¡°It¡¯s one of the Great Wyrms,¡± Zie said quickly, nerves spilling from her lips. ¡°The one borne of winter. It should have been hibernating, but¡ª¡± ¡°It¡¯s attacking!¡± shouted Tribeca. ¡°Get down!¡± A torrent of icicles rained onto the cabin from above, giant, white spikes piercing through the ceiling. The witches screamed as pieces of the roof began to collapse, wood falling into cauldrons, crashing into storage rooms. They evacuated en masse, a mob of women folding themselves through what was previously a large door, but now a miniscule tunnel. Now, with [Effortless Flight] to aid her, Momo bypassed the clogged doorway and flew straight through one of the holes in the ceiling. She felt a foreign chill in the air that hadn¡¯t been there hours previous, as if she had blinked and entered a tundra. The village¡¯s surroundings reflected this temperature change: all of the houses were now covered in thick layers of snow, and the waterfalls, once gushing, were frozen solid. The lawn that the witches were huddling in was covered in icicles; the garden was a graveyard of ice-pierced tomatoes. And in the sky, was a dragon, or, at least, that had been Momo¡¯s first impression. On closer look, it didn¡¯t look like Radu¡¯s uncle. It was unnaturally thin, and its wings were miniscule, more for show than for use. It seemed to levitate more with magic than anything else. It was truly a flying worm, a serpent, with shining, light blue scales, and menacing fangs protruding from an open maw of a mouth. More noticeable than anything were its eyes; they were completely white, pupil-less, as if possessed.
Type: Great Guardian Wyrm of Winter. Level 45. HP: 540 / 540
¡°Shit,¡± Momo said, as she watched it circle madly in the sky. She then looked down at the ground frantically, hoping to find some magical savior laying in wait. But there was no one. They were utterly removed from civilization, and the highest level person on Momo¡¯s carriage had been the chef, who by no means had the training to take on a flying sky worm. A level forty-five monster. That¡¯s the same level as those cloud grunts I faced back in Morganium. This would be doable for me with my spells, but without them¡­ The wyrm screeched, and dove at her. She dodged to the right, and the creature smashed into the side of the mountain, whining in pain. ¡°Watch out!¡± Momo screamed down at the witches. Rocks from the injured mountainside began to shower them, but luckily, her warning gave them the time to react. Momo inhaled sharply, her lungs struggling. She was still as nimble as before, but split-second dodging cost her a lot more Stamina than it should have. It took her several seconds to recover her breath. As the dragon recuperated, Momo swooped down to where the witches were, and breathily interrogated them for more information. ¡°Is there anyone else here who can deal with that¡ªthat thing? Maybe the one with the scythe-sword thing?¡± she said urgently. ¡°I¡ªI¡¯m not exactly in the best shape.¡± ¡°We¡¯re forbidden from attacking the Great Wyrms,¡± Tribeca said, her voice a mix of fearful and angry. ¡°We live here under their protection. If we violate that pact, all of them will awaken, and then we¡¯ll be done for. It must be someone else.¡± ¡°You must have been sent here to protect us, angel,¡± Zie mumbled; she was covering her head with a wooden bowl and trembling at the knees. ¡°I sensed it when I saw you.¡± Momo grimaced. She was in no physical shape to be anyone¡¯s savior, no less an angel. ¡°It¡¯s recovered!¡± Laura shouted, pointing toward the sky. ¡°You, stupid tourist, you want some poison, then do something!¡± Momo looked toward the sky, and the wyrm stared back. A swirl of white and blue was forming inside its open jaw, primed to send another¡ªlikely bigger¡ªtorrent of deadly ice at the defenseless witches. And from the looks of it, there was truly no one coming to save them. Oh, screw it all. She shrunk her wings down, gripped the handles of her rapiers, and catapulted into the sky. 250 – Black Hole Thanks to her high Dexterity score, she was flying above the wyrm in mere milliseconds. The creature didn¡¯t bat an eyelash, treating her like an orbiting fleshfly. Glacial energy continued to swirl in its mouth, ready to blast down on the trembling witches. Momo clenched her jaw. She had to be smart about this. If she got hit¡ªeven once¡ªit would sap all of her Stamina. She wasn¡¯t strong enough to recover from a direct attack like that. Luckily it looks like it takes a few seconds for it to charge up its beam attack. And it stays pretty still while it¡¯s doing it. All I need to do is disrupt it, then get out of there. Momo lunged forward, a single rapier swung over her shoulder. Taking a sharp breath in, she smashed it down on the side of the wyrm¡¯s face, letting gravity do the brunt of the work for her. The wyrm howled, recoiling, the spell dying in its throat. ¡°There you go, angel!¡± Zie shouted, cupping her hands around her mouth. ¡°Keep at it!¡± ¡°Don¡¯t encourage her,¡± Laura chastised, swatting Zie with a heavy tome. ¡°The Great Wyrms may consider that sacrilegious.¡± ¡°Oh, be serious. That thing was about to raze our village with icicles. I¡¯m not too concerned about preserving a pact we made one billion foogly-moogly years ago.¡± Keeping her distance from the wyrm, Momo watched intently as it recovered. It pawed the side of its jaw with its claw like a dog might do to soothe a wound. Momo had left a nasty, jagged gash there, but it was nothing near what she was truly capable of. That strike was pure Stamina, with no Nether Magic backing it up. Of course, that wasn¡¯t surprising. Her connection to the Nether was all but severed. But the medic back in Morganium had told her that it was still possible, even in her current state, to release the magical energy packed inside of the rapiers. That was because the swords¡ªblades carved of the Nether itself¡ªhad innate magic of their own. One could deploy that magic by using the sword formations, X and T. She had practiced the formations in her training with Nia, but every time she did, she had fallen unconscious before she was able to unleash the sword¡¯s energy. It was like swinging a hammer on a nail but always missing by half a centimeter. Endlessly frustrating. Momo gasped as a gigantic icicle came shooting at her. It was larger than a horse, and pointed like a gnarly fang. She flashed to the side, and was showered in rocks as the mountainside behind her exploded. The wyrm roared, and sailed forward. Momo was no longer some pest. She was now its main target. She tried repeating the same tactic¡ªdodging out of the way at the last minute so it ran itself into the cliffside¡ªbut it had already adapted to her tricks. When she dodged again, flattening her wings to fall downward at the last moment, it didn¡¯t collide with the crag. Instead, it curved at a severe angle, shaping its body like a C as it grazed past the mountainside, only knocking a few rocks out of place, and scaring the daylights out of the witches. I feel like I¡¯m playing a game of snake, and I¡¯m the apple, Momo thought as she swooped downward, gliding in the wyrm¡¯s slipstream until she had sailed a good distance away, now hovering above the frozen chasm of waterfalls. She thought she¡¯d gained another few precious seconds to strategize, but the wyrm was already hot on her heels, zig-zagging through the air. Another missile of ice magic was swirling inside its massive jowls, now aimed at her directly. Disrupting the beam attack with another side-stepping maneuver was looking increasingly impossible. No matter where she flew to, or how fast she did it, its neck would snap to her position. Its clouded eyeballs were fixed on her, tracking her every movement. This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. Crap. I can¡¯t defeat it by outmaneuvering it. I thought maybe I could tire it out by sending it flying into the cliffside enough times, but it caught on to that trick too fast. What do I do? Possessed by muscle memory, she assumed the position that she and Nia had been practicing for weeks: the X formation. Only now, instead of with only one sword, she used two, crossing the rapiers in front of her like a shield. Nia¡¯s apathetic voice rang out in her head. ¡°It¡¯s the blocking formation. The X repels, then devours. You¡¯ll get it eventually, once you stop being all ¡­ well¡­ useless.¡± Momo breathed in, then out, her heartbeat stuttering as she watched the orb of white and blue light in the wyrm¡¯s mouth reach its maximum size, primed to explode. At that moment, Momo prayed to a goddess that wasn¡¯t listening. If this is what sends me to the Nether, Morgana, you better send Nia there, too. A hundred icicles shot straight toward her. A flash of black electricity was the last thing she saw before she was propelled backward, smashing hard into the cliffside. Her head smacked into the crag, and she nearly lost consciousness, but she breathed, and cold, mountain air filled her lungs, shocking her out of her daze. And through the gray, fuzzy borders of her vision, she saw it¡ª A black hole. It was only there for a moment, in the space above the chasm where she had been. The space around it seemed to bend subtly, like air on a hot summer day. The icicles¡ªnowhere to be found¡ªseemed to have been sucked into it. Devoured. So that¡¯s what she meant. The wyrm circled around it, confused and frustrated. Within the second, though, it was gone, dissipating with a blink. As if it was never there. An audio courier mumbled excitedly in her ear.
Technique Update! You have mastered [Nether Rapiers ¡ª X Formation] Effect [Nether Portal] will now be summoned at every successful block. A successful block occurs when the formation is sustained (in this case, the rapiers remain in their X formation) at the moment of impact.
Momo blinked hazily. She was only somewhat cognizant that she was still alive. Her back and her head both ached, her limbs imprinted on the cliffside like she had been stamped there. But still, the message filled her with adrenaline. A confused, almost surreal joy. I mastered it¡­? All that training¡­ getting tossed around like a sack of flour by Nia¡­ it wasn¡¯t for nothing? Noticing that the portal had vanished, the wyrm trained its beady eyes on her again. Its serpentine tail was wicking back and forth angrily, its fangs brandished. It was fuming. Momo tried lifting herself from the crag, but pain was the only thing that greeted her. Her wings were fastened tight to the rock, too stiff to move. The serpent reared up, then dashed forward, flying through the sky like a water snake through a stream. This was no ranged attack. Its fangs were coming straight for her throat. With a loud groan, she managed to pry her hands¡ªand the attached rapiers¡ªfrom the rock. Her forearms trembled as she crossed the swords again. The X wobbled, imperfect. No¡­ It has to be symmetrical¡­ She scowled, tightening her muscles and feeling as every nerve in her arm fought against her. Oh. Momo¡¯s eyes widened. She had been so busy looking at her hands, she had failed to notice the wyrm¡¯s drooling mouth closing around her head. Time came to a stand still as she stared down its fleshy esophagus, and saw not a throat, but an endless hallway of ice, like being swallowed by a tundra. Not yet. Whimpering, Momo stiffened her arms, and that¡¯s when she felt it¡ªa jolt, like lightning¡ªand then a flash of black which rapidly expanded around her. The black hole blocked out everything in sight, enveloping the wyrm, crawling over the cliffside. She saw nothing but darkness; heard nothing but a soft whistling, like a train through a tunnel. Then, the wyrm wailed loudly, its voice echoing until it was dead silent, as if it had been dragged down a hallway and had the door slam behind it. Momo didn¡¯t even realize her eyes were closed until she was shocked by the resumed crush of the waterfalls. She blinked them open, and saw everything defrosting at once; the water was a clear blue, the rocks devoid of snow. The wyrm, gone. Sucked into oblivion. She had done it. A paper floated casually down from the sky, and landed on her head.
Congratulations!
251 - Crossroads
Congratulations! For defeating a Great Winter Wyrm using only rapier techniques, you have gained a level in Seraph. You have gained the following skill: [Blade Division - Projectiles]: Separate your blade into three pieces and shoot those as projectiles. They will explode on impact. If your blade is enchanted, an additional effect might be applied.
Wow, that was fast. Then again, it wasn¡¯t every day that she took down a magical flying dragon. And it was even rarer yet that she defeated an enemy simply by blocking. The black hole had helped, of course. Struggling against the cliffside''s grip, Momo finally managed to detach herself and descended towards the group of witches below. They greeted her with a mix of expressions: some looked at her in awe, while others wore expressions of horror. A year ago, that mix of reactions would have made her faint from anxiety; but after enduring the campaign trail, a few scowls pointed her way was barely a blip on her emotional radar. If only the second grade teacher that had said she possessed the ¡®emotional resilience of a potato chip¡¯ could see her now. ¡°Where did ¡­¡± Zie grabbed her by the wrists and shook her arms up and down. ¡°Where did you put it?¡± ¡°Where did I put¡­ what?¡± Momo mumbled. She followed Zie¡¯s eyes. ¡°The wyrm?¡± ¡°Well of course she means the wyrm,¡± Laura interjected. ¡°And don¡¯t you worry your thoughtless little head about it, Zie. That was a very clear case of teleportation. Object transported from A to B. But I do wonder,¡±¡ªshe pointed an accusatory finger at Momo¡ª¡°where exactly is B? Because if it''s too closeby, we¡¯re going to be digging our own graves in a few hours when it comes back for vengeance. I¡¯m not rejoicing you like some kind of hero just yet.¡± ¡°Oh!¡± Momo laughed nervously. ¡°You don¡¯t have to worry about that. I sent it somewhere very far away. It would take the power of a god to send it back here.¡± Quite literally. Considering that her blocking technique opened a rift portal, the wyrm was probably swimming around in the Nether¡¯s junkyard right about now. Her old Yaris was most likely its new scratching post. Momo frowned at the idea of it. Poor Yaris. Laura eyed her skeptically, but ultimately let up. ¡°Fine,¡± she said. ¡°But I¡¯ve already plucked a bit of your hair, so if that thing comes back wanting trouble, I¡¯ll be cursing you, your relatives, and your weird cat for all of eternity.¡± Momo blinked, horrified. But still, Laura was being more friendly before, in a very microscopic way, so she figured this was her chance. She stepped forward. ¡°Wait,¡± she said, putting her hands together in a plea for sympathy. ¡°About that poison¡ª¡± ¡°Yeah, yeah,¡± Laura groaned, already waddling back toward the desecrated cabin. ¡°Follow me, bigshot.¡± ¡ª Momo followed Laura into her shop and, after some back-and-forth, returned with a full bottle of distilled, ninety-nine percent grade poison. Valerica¡¯s favorite pasta topping. Then she made her way back to the carriage and nestled into her bed, settling in amongst a puddle of blankets. Carefully, she released two droplets of the dark liquid onto the parchment. A moment of doubt crept in as the splotches hit the page¡ªafter all, maybe the correct answer had indeed been ketchup¡ªbut soon enough, the ink began to expand, consuming the page until it was entirely black. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. White words began to appear faintly as if being entered on a typewriter. Momo, darling. If you¡¯re reading this, there really is no one in the universe who knows me better than you do. I¡¯m touched. Momo would have felt flattered, but she knew better than that; anyone who spent five minutes around Valerica¡ªand didn¡¯t meet an early grave¡ªwould become victim to one of her opinionated tirades. And of the tirades, she only had about three main topics: poison as seasoning, Morgana is the best ever and can do no wrong, and, of course, Kyros sucks. The third one was occasionally swapped out with Devola, if the woman was nearby. I come to you with good and bad news. I will start, as I always do, with the bad. Morgie is not herself. I wish I could tell you that the funeral is a fluke, but it¡¯s not. She believes that Kyros has won the war, and has given up. It¡¯s all terribly depressing. So not her style. But that¡¯s all fine and dandy, because she is not alone. She has us. We are going to finish the war we started in the age of the Dark Calamity. It¡¯s all rather simple. As you might have heard from that devilish dokkaebi, the Nether is overrun with Nether Demons, your less-adorable cousins. At first, I dedicated myself to fending them off in order to protect Morgana. But then I realized, why am I putting all this effort into just smacking them back into the abyss? They¡¯ll just come back. And more importantly, why am I not recognizing them as the weapon they are? So. I¡¯ve started collecting them. Not like Sera and her box, though, I¡¯m not an animal. But they are chained up and piled in my Nether basement. I have tried to domesticate them without success¡ªI don¡¯t have the same je ne sais quoi with creatures as you do¡ªbut since you are a Nether Demon yourself now, I believe that you will be able to tame them, and lead them. And that brings us to the crux of the plan. On the day of Morgana¡¯s funeral, when all of the gods have assembled to point and jeer at her, you will unleash the horde, and they will devour them. The dark matter of the universe¡ªthe creatures born directly from the gods¡¯ own negligence and apathy and misfortune¡ªwill ultimately usher in their end. Isn¡¯t that so tragically beautiful? This will be a new age for the universe. A blank slate. Imagine that, Momo, just me, you, Morgie, and thousands of little mortal playthings. It¡¯s like all of my most wonderful nightmares come to life. Utter bliss. ¡°She can¡¯t be serious,¡± Momo whispered aloud. Her fingers trembled where she held the paper, and Dusk hopped onto the bed, curling her vertebrae against Momo¡¯s hand. Two dueling reactions fired in her brain. The first impulse was her typical one: fear, trepidation, the urge to dig a hole in the soil and hide in it until someone else solved the problem. The second one was new, twinged with a burning-in-the-stomach sensation, a gall, an audacity she never knew she was capable of. A hunger. It was that same feeling she felt when used [Soul Cannibal] on the Husk. A temptation towards a type of power she had never even dreamt of on Earth, where the most powerful she had felt was when she held worms in her hand and dangled them above the ground, then apologized for making them dizzy; she wanted so badly to break free of that smallness, that meekness¡ª But, then again. If she wasn¡¯t those things, if she wasn¡¯t small or meek or unimpressive, Valerica would never have chosen her in the first place. If she wasn¡¯t a good person at heart, she would just be one more Nether Demon, a ball of ferocious, depressive energy. It was Valerica who made her realize that her powerlessness was the most innate strength she had. Momo waged war with small smiles and apologies and head nodding. Not biting and backstabbing. Momo didn¡¯t want to murder the gods. Even if it was practical. Even if she understood the reasons why, and largely she agreed with them. Because the trouble was¡ªshe was still herself. Painfully small and human. And she didn¡¯t want to give up that humanity, even if it was for the sake of Valerica, or Morgana, as something as silly and abstract as the universe. No. She was done doing that. That kind of thinking was how she ended up here, Mana-drained and halfway up a mountain on a mental health retreat, struggling to lift her cat above her head. She had to try solving this another way first. Her way. This was a crossroads, one she¡¯d been terrified of for a long, long time. But Valerica trained me for this, Momo thought, and placed the scroll down on her lap. She trained me so that someday, I would know when to disagree with her. The realization hit her like a ton of bricks. That''s what Valerica had been getting at back at the Viper. When she told Momo that she would have to protect her now, she wasn''t just talking about physical safety. She rose from the bed, and a new plan, blurry but firm, formed in her mind: Valerica wanted to kill the gods. Momo wasn¡¯t going to let her. 252 – Wherever Momos Tread, Calamity Follows Nether Demons are born of negligence and apathy and misfortune Born of negligence, apathy, and misfortune. Born of misfortune. Momo¡¯s hand danced around the page of her notebook, black ink staining white parchment. Her quill painted a picture while her mind toiled around Valerica¡¯s words. It had been three days since she read the letter, and yet her mind was permanently, immovably stuck on one question, like a ship ensnared in a relentless storm¡ªwhat did these beasts look like? Twenty-six. That¡¯s how many pages she¡¯d drawn attempting to answer that question. The first three had been self-portraits, sketches of herself with the features removed; humanoid creatures with black wings and soulless, hollow eyes. The next five were just spirals of black. She imagined them like Junji Ito¡¯s Uzumaki. Endless loops of misery, with eyes and lips expanding grotesquely from flesh; terrible to look at, worse to turn your back on. On some pages, she left small notes scribbled in between the drawings. ¡ªIf becoming a Nether Demon caused me to sprout wings, the evil ones must have wings, too, right? And if they have wings, maybe they¡¯re like birds? Evil birds?¡ª She drew geese with fedoras and twirlable mustaches. Then giant chickens holding bloody daggers. Pelicans wielding scissors. Ghostly albatrosses. Demonic falcons. Harpies with knives for feathers. Page twenty-three, page twenty-four¡­ By page twenty-six, she had started to grow an affection for them. It was hard not to, with a description like that¡ªcreatures born of negligence, apathy, misfortune¡ªreally, the more she recited the line in her head, the more she related to it. In fact, on one sleepless night in the carriage, her bed rocketing back and forth from the floor to the ceiling, she had a dream about a conversation that went something like this: ¡°Mom,¡± cooed the Nether Demon child to its mother. ¡°Can you tell me about the ¡­ the Momo again?¡± ¡°Oh, darling,¡± the Nether Demon mother responded, curling the duck-goose monstrosity in its feathered embrace. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t want to hear such terrible tales before bed.¡± ¡°But why not? Are Momos really so bad?¡± "Oh, my dear. There''s nothing quite so dire. They are creatures of darkness, born and bred in the grim, crime-ridden alleys of San Francisco. Offspring of neglectful parents, their only companionship a feral, incontinent cat. Wherever Momos tread, calamity follows." Momo woke with a start from her dream to feel the carriage¡¯s wheels whine to a stop. Her door flew open, and Chevri¡¯s eager head popped in. She wore an utterly uncharacteristic grin. ¡°They¡¯re beautiful,¡± the lizard said, hands full of cat food. ¡°What¡ªwhat¡¯s beautiful?¡± Momo said, rubbing her eyes. Every time she blinked, she still saw the demons from her dreams. ¡°What you paid all that money to see, dummy.¡± Chevri drew her blinds, and the white light of day blinded her. ¡°Ow¡ª¡± Momo winced, shying away from the sun like a vampire. ¡°Give a girl a little warning.¡± As her eyes gradually adjusted, the window transformed from a haze of yellow to a canvas of blue skies. Before her stood two imposing mountain peaks, their sharp silhouettes resembling the outstretched hands of a deity. So razor-edged were they that they pierced right through the sunlight, and draped everything under their shadow in utter darkness. Chevri seized her hand, pulling her from her cocoon of pillows. Yielding to her friend''s enthusiasm, Momo grabbed her notebook from the bedside table as they stepped through the carriage doors onto the snow-covered ground. Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. They found themselves on a precipice, a narrow strip of land jutting out over a gaping chasm, offering a breathtaking view of the distant Ivories. A fence separated them from the abyss, enclosing a small area adorned with snow-dusted picnic tables, shrines, and golden coins¡ªtokens of prayers and remembrances to lost loves. It was lovely, but also as dark as midnight, the mountains'' imposing shadow blanketing everything below. Any drawing she did here would be as muddy and grayscale as a grainy photograph. She felt a pang of disappointment; Sumire deserved something that did the view justice. "Come on," Chevri urged, her voice filled with excitement. "I''ll show you my favorite viewpoint." ¡°This isn¡¯t it?¡± ¡°Please.¡± Chevri scoffed. ¡°You paid us to show you the Ivories, not to stare into oblivion.¡± They trudged through the snow until they reached a spiral stone staircase, its weathered railing clinging precariously to the mountainside. Momo expressed concern about its stability, but Chevri brushed off her worries, insisting they proceed. After a few minutes of walking, they arrived at the top of the staircase. Momo doubled over, hands on her knees, struggling to catch her breath. The climb had left her utterly winded. When she straightened up again, she was met with a sight that stole her breath anew¡ªa magnificent tower of gray stone stood before her. Tall, slender, and circular, it appeared ancient, its surface weathered by time, adorned with clinging ivy. Small blue birds perched upon its decrepit window sills. "Wow," Momo exclaimed, finally regaining her breath. She expected Chevri to respond with her usual chatter, but the young lizard girl remained frozen, a few paces ahead, her expression obscured from view. "Is something wrong?" Chevri stood in silence for a moment before slowly backing away, her footsteps leaving small imprints in the snow. A faint rumbling began to shake the mountain, so subtle that Momo might have mistaken it for the wind if Chevri hadn''t spoken up. ¡°Yes,¡± she replied, her voice strained. ¡°Very wrong.¡± A shiver ran down Momo¡¯s spine. But something told her to remain silent. ¡°The wyrm,¡± Chevri continued, her voice barely above a whisper. ¡°It¡¯s not here.¡± Without glancing back, Chevri seized Momo¡¯s wrist. ¡°We should leave.¡± Her voice was trembling. All her usual overconfidence had fallen to the wayside, replaced by the vulnerable truth of what she really was: a petrified little girl out of her depth. Eighteen years old, far from home, utterly terrified. Momo felt a surge of protectiveness wash over her. She was supposed to be a literal queen, after all. Not some kind of glorified summer camp chaperone. Placing her hand on Chevri¡¯s shoulder, Momo offered a comforting smile. ¡°I''ve got you,¡± she assured her. ¡°You lead the way back down, and I¡¯ll watch your back. Once we''re at the bottom, we''ll figure out what''s happening¡ª¡± A rush of powerful wind assailed them, so forceful it swept the snow off the banks and sent Chevri hurtling through the air. Acting on instinct, Momo lunged forward to rescue her, managing to scoop her into her arms before they both crashed to the ground. They skidded against the rocky terrain like two pebbles skipping across water until they collided with the tower. Sharp pain shot through Momo''s back upon impact, her wings splaying against the unforgiving rock. When her vision returned, she immediately looked down to check on Chevri. She released a breath of relief. The girl seemed unharmed. "Are you alright?" she asked through a wince. "I''m alive," Chevri replied, clutching onto Momo tightly, her face buried in Momo''s shoulder. Momo coughed, her heart throbbing with pain. "What in the world was that?" Without moving her head from Momo¡¯s shirt, Chevri pointed a trembling finger upward. Following it, Momo''s gaze was drawn to a pair of colossal claws cleaving through the sky. Circling above them was the monstrous silhouette of a wyrm, its scales bathed in an ominous shade of deep black, seamlessly melding with the shadows beneath the Ivories. This wyrm surpassed even the colossal beast Momo had faced in Wyrmeridge¡ªa titanic force of darkness, casting its ominous shadow across the land.
Type: Greater Guardian Wyrm of Darkness. Level 58. HP: 650 / 650
Momo swallowed hard, a sense of dread creeping over her. Of course. All she had wanted was to paint her girlfriend a few pretty mountain tops and call it a day. But she had been naive to think she could get away with something so idyllically simple; after all, she was Momo. The demon in her dream really had truly articulated it perfectly: ¡°Wherever Momos tread, calamity follows.¡± As she prepared to force herself upward, she paused, her gaze catching a figure striding purposefully toward them. Cloaked in long, black robes that trailed across the snow, his face concealed beneath a hood, the man moved with an unsettling calmness, as if oblivious to the looming threat of the wyrm. Soon enough, he stood before Momo, his features obscured by the shadows cast by his hood. His skin appeared weathered and worn, belying his apparently young age, and one eye glinted unnaturally¡ªa shining, twitching prosthetic in place of the missing one. "I can hardly believe it," he remarked, a grin spreading across his face. "Someone actually made it up here uneaten." 253 – Cryogenically Preserved Necromancers "I can hardly believe it," he remarked, a grin spreading across his face. "Someone actually made it up here uneaten." ¡ª ¡°Uneaten?¡± Momo squeaked. Something about this man dissolved her confidence into a wet rag. There was just an air to him; something familiar, in the way a hand around your neck becomes familiar if it chokes you long enough. ¡°Why, yes,¡± he sighed pleasantly. ¡°I¡¯ve sent my babies to feast. I figure they''ve been deprived of human flesh for so many years, better late than never.¡± Human flesh? Who the hell is this guy? Is he a¡­ ¡°Are you a necromancer?¡± Momo accused, air filling her lungs again. She carefully peeled Chevri off of her, making sure she was alright before stepping in front of her protectively. He seemed impressed by her (admittedly, very simple) deduction. ¡°You¡¯re an observant one. And a true believer at that. Yes, I am. An Expert one at that. Most people these days consider us an extinct species. Kyros¡¯s little obliterated blight. But I make a habit out of driving my heel into that perception.¡± He looked up to the sky with glee as the dark wyrm circled the clouds and bit at the air. ¡°I figure I¡¯ll take these new dead pets of mine and lay siege to one of his precious cities down there in the valleys.¡± Momo looked at him in confusion. The people of Aloysius knew necromancers were far from extinct. Their literal queen was a necromancer, not to mention a good portion of their neighbors. Under Momo¡¯s rule, the population of necromancers-in-training had increased exponentially. Schools of necromancy had cropped up in every city, village, and hamlet; even Kalendale of all places was now welcoming the dark arts back into its poorly-constructed walls. ¡°Um, no offense, but¡­¡± Momo squinted. ¡°Just how long have you been up here?¡± Despite her tone, he looked positively offended. Scandalized. ¡°Up here? What is that supposed to mean? Like my head is in the clouds?¡± ¡°No no no. Like, literally. On this mountain. Do you even know who runs this continent now?¡± ¡°Well one of Kyros¡¯s puppets, of course.¡± Momo stared at him blankly. His pouting increased. ¡°Am I wrong?¡± ¡°Well¡ª¡± she bit her lip. ¡°Yes. Kyros has no presence here anymore. His puppet Jarva is dead. I¡¯m the queen now. And I¡¯m also a necromancer. One with a slightly different moral compass, but, hey, same team.¡± She offered him a fist bump. He stared at her for several seconds in shock, his mouth agape. ¡°Really?¡± he said after a minute, his voice breathy. His mouth formed an unassuming o. ¡°Yep.¡± ¡°That¡¯s quite, well¡­¡± He looked at the sky. ¡°Quite disappointing.¡± His gaze dropped to hands. Red, angry scars ran up and down them, stitched with small faded lines of fabric. He seemed almost sewn together; a grandmother¡¯s hatchwork project. The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. ¡°It seems that the spell that Holy Warlock put on me lasted a bit longer than anticipated,¡± he said under his breath, slightly embarrassed. ¡°I thought I had been asleep in the tower for a few months, maximum, but this is a little¡­¡± Momo was seized by a strange sense of sympathy for him then. She reached a tentative hand out, and placed it on the side of his arm, squeezing it. ¡°I¡¯m not really a big fan of the feeding-innocent-mountain-people-to-your-wyrms thing,¡± she began quietly. ¡°But I get that you must feel disoriented. I¡¯ve been there. If you want to talk about it, we can. I have time¡ªand you¡¯ve got a really nice view.¡± As she gestured toward the cliffside, the nightmarish wyrm roared in the sky, bursting through another cloud. It slapped its wings through the air restlessly, waiting for direction. ¡°Well, maybe we can talk after you put down the dragons,¡± she added. He folded his arms and tilted his head up. ¡°Urgh. What a buzzkill you are. You sound just like somebody I used to know.¡± His forehead creased, and he began snapping his fingers to jog his memory. ¡°Oh, what was her name? Tall, luscious, terrible woman. Smelled of pests. Talked in riddles. Color of her eyes changed with the weather, and the weather changed with her mood.¡± Momo¡¯s throat thickened. The cold winter air felt suddenly warm, like the abrupt onset of spring. ¡°You know Valerica?¡± He whipped his head toward her and beamed. His prosthetic eye did a full 360 in its socket. ¡°Valerica! That¡¯s her. Gods, it¡¯s been so many years¡­ One day someone is the light of your life, the next you¡¯re on a mountain possessing dragons and they¡¯re a name you can barely recall.¡± ¡°Light of your life?¡± Momo paused, her stomach turning. ¡°Were you two¡­ seeing each other?¡± His cheeks reddened. ¡°Oh, gods, no. She wouldn¡¯t get within a foot of me even if I wanted her to. Those poisonous lips were always all over that, that¡ª¡± he snapped his fingers again, and groaned. ¡°The reclusive one. Always murmuring to herself in her room. Writing spell books all day and night. Always talking about creating an army of lifeless, groaning fleshbeasts.¡± ¡°Sera?¡± The image of Valerica with her lips all over Sera made Momo momentarily suicidal. ¡°Yes!¡± He cheered, then sombered, giving her a strange look. ¡°Wait, why do you know all this?¡± Momo blinked; he leaned closer to her and inspected her thoroughly, like a detective without the magnifying glass or the credentials. ¡°You look too young to have been part of Morgana¡¯s original circle,¡± he remarked. ¡°Could it be, then? Valerica really made good on her plan?¡± Momo swallowed. She knew Valerica had worked with a lot of necromancers in her days before the Dawn, but she didn¡¯t know any had survived the war. It seemed that this one had been put on ice. ¡°Her plan?¡± she pried. ¡°Well, yes. It was the whole reason I stopped hanging out with her in the first place. Aside from the fact that I was desperately in love with her, and she couldn¡¯t even remember my name two times out of ten. But her plan¡ªthat was her real love, not that disgusting Sera¡ªwas one that went beyond corpses and skeletons. She wanted to revive someone¡­ siy-ko-logi-cally.¡± Momo¡¯s ego took two arrows to the heart. Her conversation with Valerica back at the Viper once again floated back to the tip of her consciousness: how she had claimed that reviving Momo from her asocial, impotent self to the strong, independent Nether Demon she was now was Valerica¡¯s greatest work of necromancy yet. Her pride and joy. Sweet, in a way. Humiliating in most others. ¡°So she wanted to become a therapist?¡± Momo said, begrudgingly. He gave her a look of earnest concern. ¡°I¡¯m not sure in which language you¡¯re speaking, but, sure, perhaps. Whatever you would like to call it, she was morbidly obsessed with the revival of the soul. Something even Sera¡¯s research was not powerful enough to touch upon. To turn something darkened and twisted to something light, pure, powerful, and vice versa.¡± He touched his fingers to his ice-chapped lips, displeased. ¡°Oh gods, now I can hear her voice in my head again. It¡¯s like she¡¯s possessing me, delivering one of her terrible lectures through my very mouth. What a powerful curse that woman is. No matter what you do, you can¡¯t scratch her out of your veins. She must really have mastered that magic of hers¡ªthe magic of emotional manipulation.¡± Momo snorted. How perfectly put. Still, her heart stung as she thought about Valerica¡¯s letter, because all Valerica ever seemingly wanted to be¡ªbesides the owner of a thousand little golden baubles¡ªwas someone who could help the people she cared about. Elevate them. Like she had done for Momo. Like she was trying to do right now, for Morgana. Even if her plan to help Morgana was a bit misled¡ªand involved the coldblooded murder of several deities¡ªit was coming from a place of selflessness. Well, as much as Valerica could experience selflessness. It seemed that everyone in this universe understood empathy to be more of an uncanny science experiment than an innate principle of human nature. But it was not very different from Earth in that way. ¡°Come on,¡± Momo muttered, impatiently taking the man¡¯s hand and dragging him toward the cliffside, where there was a perfectly clear view of the Ivories. ¡°You talk, I draw. If I come home empty-handed because of Valerica, Sumire is going to be sending me to the Nether a whole lot quicker, and more permanently, than anticipated.¡± 254 – The Dark Artificer Sumire was right. The twin peaks were utterly magnificent. The necromancer Kezko regaled Momo¡ªand a reluctant but terrified Chevri¡ªwith his life''s woes as Momo replicated the mountains¡¯ majesty on her blank notebook page. By the end of the hour, both her mind and body were considerably relaxed, all but sinking into the soil. She had chosen to crosshatch shadows up and down the mountainside, a particularly draining method of shading, leaving her hand shaking with exhaustion; but it was a pleasant sort of exhaustion. The kind that only came from using one¡¯s body to create beauty. She hadn¡¯t experienced that sort of tiredness in a long, long time. Maybe since¡­ She blushed. ¡°So, you were stuck in time paralysis right at the peak of the war?¡± she asked, clasping the notebook shut as she diverted her mind from specific places. ¡°That¡¯s unfortunate timing.¡± ¡°Yes. My body, as far as I can tell, has not aged a day since,¡± he said, inspecting his hands. ¡°I still have this angry red blister that I had years ago. But anyway, that¡¯s not important. What is important is that you tell me posthaste¡ªwho did win the Dark Calamity in the end? It had to have been us, if a necromancer like you is holding the throne.¡± Momo frowned guiltily. That was a safe assumption, but it naively assumed that this universe was dictated by rational logic. It was not. ¡°Sorry, but¡­ no. As far as I understand it, the necromancers lost the war in the final stretch. Sera rushed in too early, eager to show off some idea of hers and make Morgana proud.¡± To her surprise, Kezko lit up, grinning. ¡°Oh, now that is just delightful,¡± he giggled. ¡°Valerica must have been so pissed off. Oh, I am truly sorry that I missed that. The breakup must have been cataclysmic.¡± ¡°I imagine it was,¡± Momo muttered. She was still coming to peace with the fact that the two ever had anything going on between them. ¡°But yeah, they lost, the holy government killed almost all the necromancers, and forced the surviving ones into hiding. Valerica started a cult called Morgana¡¯s Dawn, with the mission to rebuild the necromantic front against Kyros, and then she summoned me from Earth under the delusion that I was her chosen one, or something. I¡¯m still not clear on what circumstances she made that decision. I¡¯m guessing she was on a post-breakup bender.¡± ¡°I see,¡± he nodded, resting his head on his sewn-up knuckles. ¡°And it seemed you did just fine in that role, if I am to believe you about being queen. You turned a world that was completely against necromancers into one where a Nether Demon has become royalty. I must say, you are either a delusional liar, or a very impressive young lady.¡± Momo blushed, studying the damp ground. It wasn''t often she told her story from the very beginning to someone who was so completely uninvolved. And, really, he wasn¡¯t wrong¡ªit was kind of astounding, looking back. She could hardly believe it was her at the center of it all. ¡°It sounds a lot easier when I summarize it in two sentences,¡± she mumbled. ¡°You¡¯re telling me. I¡¯ve been gone for decades, and now I¡¯m up to speed in under sixty minutes. As it turns out, the world just kept on moving without me. How insignificant that makes one feel.¡± ¡°No, no, you shouldn¡¯t feel that way¡ª¡± He grinned. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry. I don¡¯t. It was out of my control. And now that I¡¯ve returned, I intend to make myself very significant.¡± Kezko snapped his fingers. The wind rushed by as the black wyrm woke from its dormancy, standing tall and shaking like a dog in the grass. It roared, and black magic spewed out of its maw, turning the crisp air into smog; Momo pinched her nose. Chevri screamed. If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Momo knew she could attempt to fight the wyrm using her new sword techniques, but, first of all, the animal wasn¡¯t in its right mind, and second, all that crosshatching had made her arm limp. Hopefully I¡¯ve gained enough credibility with this semi-lucid necromancer to paint him down a different path. One that involved less murdering of helpless mountain civilians. But first, she had to satiate her curiosity. ¡°Kezko,¡± she said. ¡°Before you, um, do anything¡ªcan I ask you a question?¡± He paused, his wolfish grin slipping. ¡°Yes. What?¡± ¡°How are you controlling them? The wyrms?¡± She pointed her small finger at the gangly beast. ¡°I¡¯m just curious. I used to be a Corrupted Druid, and that let me tame and summon beasts, but these don¡¯t seem to be tamed or summoned. You said they¡¯re possessed?¡± He lit up. ¡°Ah, so this is why you¡¯re so successful. You possess a curious mind.¡± He thrust his hand into the pocket of his robe, clawing around for something before re-emerging with a white-blue gemstone. A dark vapor swirled inside the center of the gemstone. She recognized the substance immediately. It was trapped, distilled Nether. ¡°I control them using a mana gem,¡± he explained, glowing. ¡°I perform a light bit of surgery to insert one into their neck, and then it connects to the one in mine.¡± He tugged down the black cloth wrap around his neck, exposing taut skin brimming with stitches. Buried in the skin of his nape was an identical gemstone. Huh. So that explains why his skin looks like an abandoned knitting project. ¡°I tie our Nether together, intertwining our souls. It allows me to cast spells through their lips without digging into my own mana pool. It¡¯s like pulling at puppet strings.¡± As he explained, Momo¡¯s curiosity grew, her eyes fixated on the gemstone. Noticing her obsession, he offered it to her. She took it into her hand gratefully.
You have acquired a Mana Gem! To use this gem, you must insert it into something with latent mana of its own.
Momo¡¯s fingers curled around it protectively, as if she had just happened upon something priceless. Not in the monetary sense, but in a far superior way¡ªin a way that triggered an important dormant memory. She slipped back in time, and the words of Morganium¡¯s chief medic rang in her subconscious, from that day she awoke in the medical tent, her body as heavy as titanium. ¡°We consulted the System Medic about these swords of yours, and we have determined that they are versatile weapons. They have magical power in their own right.¡± Her chest tightened. Magical power in their own right. I remember the medic talking about turning the rapiers into self-casting devices. How that would take a certain level of crafting expertise¡­ Kezko gave her a concerned look. ¡°Are you suffering from altitude sickness? You look quite suddenly pale.¡± Momo ignored him, her eyes pinning him with an intensity. ¡°I¨CI have another question,¡± she said, and unsheathed her two rapiers. They dazzled black in the light, and Kezko¡¯s lips drew open in surprise. ¡°Apparently, my swords have magical power of their own. Something like their own inherent mana pool. If you were to insert mana gems into these, what would happen? Would they be able to cast spells without using my own mana?¡± He processed her rush of words, then offered a hand politely toward her. ¡°May I?¡± She was reticent. These swords were all she had. The last bit of power in her possession. But they were also hers. Their power was tied to her own. If anyone else tried to use them, it¡¯d be like lugging around a knockoff lightsaber. At least, that¡¯s what Viktor had told her. He had spent many days inspecting them in his laboratory, but the swords refused to react to any of his instruments. Any material or substance he had tried to coat them with would melt right off. ¡°I won¡¯t do anything to them without asking,¡± he said, but it was supplemented by a deranged giggle. ¡°I¡¯m a Dark Artificer, not a maniac. Hah. Or should I say, I¡¯m Kezko, not Valerica.¡± An Artificer. Momo brightened, her heart rabbiting in her chest. That was a crafting class, and a necromancer dual-class at that. None of the crafters in Morganium had that sort of speciality. She had planned on trying to take levels in it when she turned home, hoping to exchange Artist for some sort of Sword Technician, but this¡ªthis might as well have been a miraculous shortcut. If this works, I¡¯m one step closer to getting my powers back. She placed the hilt of the sword in his hand. It danced with black electricity as he curled his fingers around it, a wide, delighted grin growing on his face. ¡°Oh yes,¡± he said, the pupil of his prosthetic eye tripling in size. ¡°I can work with this.¡± 255 - Reawaken ¡°And then you just do the, er, swoosh thing. You know, you take the sword, and you swoosh it.¡± At one of the highest altitudes in all of Alois, under the bright, uninhibited sun, surrounded by cotton candy clouds, Momo couldn¡¯t have asked for a better place for this moment to happen. To reawaken some of the lost power inside of her. To get one step closer to conquering the heavens¡ªerr¡ªno, not quite¡ª To saving Valerica and Morgana, yes. And, equally importantly, spritzing Kyros with some water like a cat on the kitchen table so he¡¯d stop stomping all over the precious afterlife. That technique worked on Dusk, so she figured it was worth a try with god-cats, too. If only she knew what the hell Kezko was on about. ¡°I just swing the sword?¡± His eyes bulged. ¡°Yes, yes! That¡¯s the word. Swing. It really doesn¡¯t have the same emphasis as swoosh, but I suppose it¡¯s more accurate. Swing away, dear.¡± Momo reticently spread her legs, steadying herself on the uneven ground. Her fingers grasped around a single one of her rapiers, its blade crackling with black electricity. Kezko stood with great enthusiasm a few feet away from her. A few feet too close. ¡°I really think you should back up a little,¡± she pleaded quietly. ¡°If this does work, I don¡¯t want to hurt you.¡± ¡°Ha. Your ego really is gigantic. I¡¯m an Expert, dear. I think I can take the hit.¡± Momo sighed. She figured it wasn¡¯t worth bothering him with the reality that she was an Excalibur; after all, the likelihood of this working seemed ridiculously slim. Kezko had taken all of five minutes to haphazardly wrap one gem to the hilt of the sword, and another around Momo¡¯s wrist. He had emphasized that the whole ¡®tape it together with hair ties'' approach wouldn''t have as good of a connection than an actual surgical insertion, but Momo wasn¡¯t about to let him rip her open without a test drive. So, here was the test drive. She swung the sword. Immediately she felt a sensation in her wrist. A feeling of immolation, like her very veins were burning. A quick glance revealed them to be just fine¡ªif a little bit prominent, protruding from her skin like small rivers. The gemstone was glowing a bright, shining blue, and the black inside of it was swirling in a circle. It was equal parts painful and mesmerizing. ¡°Did it work?¡± Momo asked, looking back up at him. Nothing about the attack had seemed particularly astonishing. She hadn¡¯t ripped a hole in the universe by any means. Black crackled through the air as usual, and wind rushed past, but that was it. ¡°Wonderfully so,¡± he replied, clasping his hands over hers. He had the expression of a mad scientist¡ªit reminded her uncomfortably of Sera. ¡°Even without the surgical implantation, you¡¯re resonating beautifully. If the mana pathways in your ears weren¡¯t injured, I¡¯m sure you would have heard the harmonizing.¡± ¡°Uh huh,¡± she said, nodding with her eyebrows furrowed. ¡°It felt like a volcano was erupting onto my wrist, but I didn¡¯t notice anything different in my attack.¡± ¡°That¡¯s because there wasn¡¯t. That was just a test of the connection. I was watching to see how quickly you could send commands through the gem to your weapon¡ªthe efficiency of your casting potential. My eye here,¡± he said, tapping at the glass of his eyeball. ¡°Can slow down time to see fractions of seconds, so I could measure just how quickly your gem turned blue.¡± Momo furrowed her eyebrows. Right. So it¡¯s basically a wifi test? ¡°And how fast is my ¡­ um ¡­ upload speed, exactly?¡± ¡°That is an odd way to put it, but,¡± he hummed. ¡°Quite terrible. It took a full few seconds for the gem on the sword to resonate. In battle, that kind of lag can cost you your life. But we can up that speed considerably just by embedding the gem in your flesh. So no worries there.¡± Momo grimaced. He was way too nonchalant about sticking an overclocked Mana computer into her neck. Kezko began rubbing his hands together eagerly. ¡°Ok-i-doke,¡± he said. ¡°Now for the real test. I want you to use one of your spells.¡± Momo frowned, appalled. ¡°But I can¡¯t. It¡¯ll break me. That¡¯s like, the entire point.¡± He shook his head and wagged his finger teacherly. It was a very condescending motion for someone who was a frankly terrible instructor. It wasn¡¯t difficult to believe that he saw Valerica as a role model. ¡°Use the spell through the sword, child. Don¡¯t say it aloud. Allow it to trickle through your veins quietly, drawing all your attention toward the stone.¡± Momo took in a breath, and nodded. She didn¡¯t know what any of that was supposed to mean, but she figured it was worth a try. The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. She closed her eyes tightly and, for the first time in a long time, rolled through her inner grimoire. She flashed through spell after spell, from Raise Undead to her flashy new Summon Husk. Ultimately, she settled for a personal favorite. A smile crossed her face as she remembered her days on the open ocean, playing pirates with a lemur and an elf. [Nether Displacement] She knew it wasn¡¯t a spell that could be cast silently, so she wasn¡¯t worried that it would actually destroy her Mana Pathways by accident. Still, the mere thought of using magic left her terrified. It¡¯s okay. The worst that can happen is it won¡¯t work. Mere disappointment. Nothing she wasn¡¯t well-practiced in. Holding the sound of the spell in her head, she tensed her muscles. She felt that wildfire feeling again. Peeling one eye open, she saw tendrils of black snake down her arms and coalesce around her wrist, tightening like a medical bandage. ¡°Good, excellent,¡± Kezko said, his voice a hurried whisper. ¡°Now just hold it.¡± Wincing, Momo kept herself steady through the burning pain. The longer she sustained it, the more manageable it became, until it was simply a low hum in the back of her brain. ¡°Well, well, well. Seems that it worked.¡± Momo snapped both eyes open simultaneously. Before her lay a scene that would have rendered her younger self speechless: Kezko stood before her, his grin stretched wide, with her rapier impaling him straight through the middle. ¡°Oh my god, I¡¯m so sorry,¡± she babbled, not thinking as she hastily withdrew it. The sword slipped out like a spoon through pudding, effortless. No blood nor guts came with it. Only after she took a few seconds to make sure he was alive did she realize what had just happened. ¡°Nether Displacement,¡± she breathed. ¡°It worked?¡± ¡°Delightfully well,¡± he cheered, taking her hand. ¡°Seeing as my torso is still in-tact.¡± An overwhelming feeling of joy stirred in her, her cheeks heating. She had done it. She had cast a spell. Well, her sword had. Kind of. ¡°I am so confused,¡± she said, waving the sword around. She watched as it dipped into the soil, then came out dirt free. ¡°Does the Nether Displacement apply to me, too?¡± She thrust her hand at the ground experimentally, only to be rudely met by the reality of the physical world; unlike her sword, she had not transformed into a transient Nether entity. ¡°Ouch,¡± she mumbled, hugging her red palm. ¡°You really are a student of Valerica. She was very big on Show, Don¡¯t Tell.¡± Momo grimaced. ¡°I¡¯m aware.¡± They spent the next thirty minutes drilling through the practicalities of self-casting artifacts. In practice, the rules could be summarized like such: Momo weighed the sword in her hands, marveling at it. ¡°So, just how big is the rapiers¡¯ mana pool?¡± she asked. He prodded his glass eye with his fingers, adjusting it like an optometrist might adjust the dials of an autorefractor. His pupil zoomed in and out. ¡°Five hundred points,¡± he said. ¡°Quite impressive.¡± ¡°That¡¯s half of my own,¡± she said, not disappointed. ¡°It is an Excalibur-level magical artifact.¡± ¡°Wait, and that¡¯s per sword, right? So if I can use both at the same time¡­¡± ¡°You will effectively have use of your entire mana pool again,¡± he said, together. ¡°But it will take quite a bit of mental training in order to fire off spells so quickly. And you¡¯ll have to become accustomed to the new form several of your spells will take, now that they¡¯re being used via your weaponry. Some will become almost useless, such as the one you used on me just now.¡± Momo could barely hear him anymore. Her grin was practically cannibalizing her face, and her thoughts were a rapid succession of finally, finally, finally. A succession that was only interrupted by an overwhelming feeling of fatigue. She barely got out a groan before she was falling toward the ground, gray edging around her vision. The exhaustion¡ªthe one she hadn¡¯t felt in days¡ªhad returned with a wickedness. ¡°[Dark Healing],¡± Kezko cast, pressing his hand to her scalp and then yanking her upward by the hair. She bobbed upward like a ragdoll. ¡°Ah, I forgot to mention one tiny detail. While you¡¯re not using your Mana to actually fire the spells, you are still exerting yourself by using Gem Transmission. It tends to be physically exhausting to those of¡­ lesser statures, such as yourself.¡± ¡°Lesser statures?¡± ¡°Small. Weak. Minute. I was trying to put it politely,¡± he huffed, then let go of her. ¡°To be blunt, you¡¯ll have to continue with that Strength training routine of yours if you want to actually use more than one spell per hour. So, while it is a loophole in some ways, in others¡­¡± He leaned close to her, so their noses were touching. ¡°It is not. One cannot completely escape the limits of his own corporeal form.¡± Momo nodded, sluggishly recovering from her fainting spell. She pulled her knees to her chest and sighed into them. ¡°Unless you¡¯re Azrael,¡± she added grumpily. ¡°Ha! And how do you suppose he does it?¡± he said, smacking Momo on the back, already forgetting her condition. She nearly catapulted off the cliffside. ¡°Azrael was my first professor. The man was utterly untouchable in the field of necrotic artificing. His title¡ªthe necroknight¡ªwas such an undersell. He could crush mana gems into fragments and disperse them into armies of self-casting ghouls.¡± Momo furrowed her brows. ¡°Really? But he does full-body possession, doesn¡¯t he? Like, fully inhabiting the corpses he steals?¡± A flurry of dirt blew past her as the Wyrm of Darkness settled into the grass. Kezko began to thread his fingers over the beast¡¯s scales. ¡°Not at all,¡± he said, nudging the wyrm¡¯s head away from him. ¡°That would pose too much of a risk for someone as risk-averse as Azrael. The man is a homebody. He never leaves his realm. In fact, his risk-avoidance is exactly what led him to become such a fine artificer. He spent all of his free time perfecting the art of mana gem possession. It allowed him to operate high-level monstrosities without risking an inch of his soul.¡± That explains a lot, Momo thought, reflecting on all of her run-ins with the man. He wasn¡¯t afraid in the least to lose one of his physical forms. They were just puppets to him. He didn¡¯t even feel their pain as one might have during a formal possession. It was just like flying a drone, peeking through its eyes on a computer monitor. ¡°I hope I¡¯ll get to meet him for real one day,¡± Momo said, rising from the ground and dusting the dirt off of herself. ¡°He¡¯s been a real help to me, even from beyond the veil.¡± ¡°If he wants to meet you, it¡¯s only a matter of time.¡± Momo laughed. What a strange way to put it. ¡°Kezko, I have one last question for you, if you don¡¯t mind.¡± He turned to her enthusiastically. ¡°Anything, your highness.¡± She smiled at him brightly, and extended a hand to shake. ¡°Do you want to become my Court Artificer?¡± 256 – Piercings Momo lifted the compact mirror to her neck, and inspected the reflection. The scar was nearly healed. Just three neat little stitches, and a serpent-shaped crystal embedded beneath. The ¡®surgery,¡¯ if you could even call it that, hadn¡¯t been as painful as she feared. After all, her pain tolerance had changed a lot since she contracted Mana Disease. A sledgehammer felt like a pinprick now. A few scrapes from Kezko¡¯s surgical scalpel and a few sketchy healing salves and it was over with. No biggie. Sitting upright in her bed, she eyed her rapier, which was perched on the wall on the opposite side of the cabin. She clenched her fingers, squinted her eyes, and brought her hand upward. Black Nether began to rush down her veins, and¡­ The sword began to levitate. She grinned. Beyond the self-casting ability, having a mana gem embedded inside of her came with a few cool party tricks. For one, it gave her the power of sword-telekinesis, allowing her to move the rapier around the room like she was a Nether Jedi. In an odd and uncomfortable way, she felt closer to her mother. The workaholic Jiwoo never felt comfortable describing herself as disabled, but assistive technologies were an undiscussed way of life in the Lin household¡ªelectric can openers, light-weight garden hoses, wooden handrails in every other room that her father had dutifully and silently attached. It wasn¡¯t uncommon to find her mother laying in the grass in the garden, eyes closed, chest heaving. She¡¯d work like a horse laying seeds and picking vegetables for hours on end, ignoring her body¡¯s demands until she was effectively unconscious. It used to terrify Momo when she was younger, but eventually that fear just faded into annoyance; Jiwoo would always get up, dust off her sleeves, and limp back into the house, but Momo couldn¡¯t help but wonder: why push herself that far to begin with? All over a handful of tomatoes. ¡°Breakfast¡¯s ready, your highness.¡± Chevri¡¯s voice greeted her at the door. Momo lost focus in her surprise, and the rapier fell to the ground, rolling until it reached the end of Chevri¡¯s boots. Momo tried to clap the mirror shut quickly and tuck away her scar, but it wasn¡¯t quick enough¡ªChevri was already on top of her, peeling back the turtleneck sweater and ogling her stitches. ¡°You¡¯re insane,¡± she muttered. ¡°I can¡¯t believe you really let that crazy man do this to you.¡± Momo shrugged. ¡°I consider my body an improvised art piece at this point. What¡¯s one new piece of jewelry?¡± ¡°It¡¯s blasphemous,¡± Chevri muttered. Despite the young girl¡¯s hatred for her father¡¯s Chicken-worshiping, her vocabulary was still littered with religious artifacts. ¡°At least it doesn¡¯t look infected. I would have served him poison stew if I thought he really hurt you.¡± ¡°...And that¡¯s sweet of you, really. But if you¡¯re trying to kill a necromancer, poison shouldn¡¯t be your goto strategy. That¡¯s like feeding candy to a child.¡± Chevri huffed, setting down a steaming plate of bacon, eggs, and diced onions on Momo¡¯s bedside table before attending to Dusk¡¯s food bowl. ¡°What are you going to do when we¡¯re back?¡± Momo prodded quietly. ¡°I heard the announcement. The driver¡¯s taking the month off. It¡¯s nearly avalanche season.¡± Chevri laughed. ¡°Not join your government, if that¡¯s why you¡¯re asking.¡± ¡°I wasn¡¯t¡­¡± ¡°I know you better now, Momo. Of course you were,¡± Chevri said, rolling her eyes with a smile. ¡°You can¡¯t help yourself. You¡¯re just¡­ disgustingly helpful. But I¡¯m going to forge my own path. To hell with working for some idiot in an oversized chef¡¯s hat. If you can talk down a guy from razing the mountainside with his pet dragons, then I can manage to run my own caravan.¡± Momo smiled broadly at her. This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. ¡°I¡¯m proud of you, Chev. It even sounds like maybe I inspired you, just a little.¡± Chevri grabbed the side of the door, and gave her a disgusted look. ¡°Oh, shut up.¡± She slammed it. Momo laughed. ¡ª ¡°You know, people usually come back from self-discovery journeys with a few fun anecdotes or, at worst, a tattoo in a language they don¡¯t understand,¡± Sumire said, not trying to hide her skepticism. ¡°Not a magical rock stitched into their neck.¡± ¡°It¡¯s kind of pretty though, you have to admit,¡± Momo said, batting her eyelashes. Sumire groaned. ¡°Of course it¡¯s pretty. It¡¯s in your neck. On its own, it¡¯s a rock.¡± ¡°So you think I¡¯m pretty.¡± ¡°So I think you¡¯re avoiding the point,¡± Sumire said. The sharp sound of a metal tool clamoring to the floor rang through the vast throne room. The echo wasn¡¯t as pointed as it should have been due to the walls being mid-construction. All around them, skeletal construction workers were silently lifting tiles into place, gluing them together with paint buckets full of Nether puddy. ¡°Sorry,¡± one of the skeletons uttered, picking up the fallen instrument. He gestured to his own bony hands. ¡°Slippery fingers.¡± Vivienne, a few paces away, was supervising the work. She had her back turned to them, one arm rigidly bent at her back, the other instructing one of the skeletons where to place a stone beam. Nia was sitting on a stool just next to her, legs crossed, watching the paint dry. ¡°You haven¡¯t even let me show you what it does yet,¡± Momo said, taking a step away from her over-protective girlfriend. ¡°Watch.¡± With a spin of her finger, she glided her sword upward. Sumire¡¯s jaw fell open as the rapier danced across the wide ceiling, reflecting in the dozens of small mirrors embedded in the walls. Before the pirate could open her mouth, however, Momo took it a step farther. [Taunt] The sword began to glow blood red. In a matter of seconds, all the eyes in the room were on it. Interesting. I was wondering if that would still work. It looks like I can channel Biscuit¡¯s skills through the sword as well. That¡¯s useful. On her way back from the Twin Peaks, Momo had been brainstorming unconventional ways to up her Stamina. One that came to mind¡ªand seemed rather promising¡ªwas finding ways to further train the undead hamster that was terminally powering her heart. She didn¡¯t really enjoy thinking about him, as it made her claustrophobic, but it seemed logical that if she could make him stronger, she could power through fainting spells by activating him. Kind of like injecting steroids, but with a hamster. Sumire, mouth agape, lightly pulled at Momo¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Momo, how?¡± she hissed. ¡°Isn¡¯t this bad for you?¡± Grinning, Momo shook her head and tapped the crystal embedded in her neck. ¡°It¡¯s a mana gem,¡± she explained. ¡°It allows me to channel spell commands to my swords and harness their mana pool without touching my own. Kezko tells me it¡¯s made of baryte, just like the oblivion stone. It stings a little, but other than that, it¡¯s totally safe.¡± Sumire shook her head in disbelief. ¡°Momo, that¡¯s¡­ fantastic, if I am to believe it.¡± She pursed her lips. ¡°But who the hell is Kezko?¡± The doors to the hall burst open, and two more figures entered. To the left was Viktor Mole, talking animatedly to the decrepit necromancer at his right. His chicken trailed obediently behind, skirting close to his feet as he walked. ¡°My new Court Artificer,¡± Momo said, slapping Kezko on the back as he approached. He brightened at her touch, smiling despite having zero clue what they had been talking about. ¡°He¡¯s the one who put this gem and my neck, and he¡¯s also going to help me out with my plan.¡± Sumire looked like a deer in headlights. ¡°Wait, what plan?¡± ¡°Kezko, did you get Vikor up to speed?¡± Momo asked. ¡°That he did,¡± Viktor said, clearing his throat. ¡°Not that it took much. I was quite familiar with the science of baryte embedding, as you can imagine,¡± he eyed his undead bird. ¡°But I never thought to embed one of those gems into a human, no less your highness. It¡¯s truly bleeding edge work in the field of Nether Artificing.¡± Sumire, ever the skeptic, immediately butted in. She jutted out her hand for him to shake. ¡°I¡¯m Sumire, Momo¡¯s Military Advisor and general strategist,¡± she said, then added, ¡°despite my title, she only really takes about forty-eight percent of my advice. But as for your science, I¡¯m having a hard time imagining how stuffing a gem into someone¡¯s neck is bleeding edge work. How has someone not tried this before? There must be hidden dangers.¡± Kezko laughed good-naturedly. ¡°Of course, many have tried. Not only tried, but succeeded. I am hardly the only one to practice dark artificing. But the Dark Calamity has dramatically thinned our numbers. Jarva¡¯s army killed an untold amount of us. Not to mention that Azrael, the best Dark Artificer there is, is no longer on this plane. The magic is legitimate, I assure you¡ªbut we lack practitioners.¡± ¡°I see,¡± Sumire said, finally letting go of his hand after holding it in a deathgrip. ¡°Even so, do you really mean to say that there are no risks to this kind of magic? I don¡¯t take kindly to someone shoving a rock in my girlfriend¡ªhighness¡¯s¡ªthroat without evaluating the possible dangers.¡± At Sumire¡¯s accidental admission, Kezko raised an eyebrow at Momo, who blushed. ¡°No ill fate will befall your dear queen, I assure you. The only precaution I would take is to not go over the rapiers¡¯ mana limit. While artifacts can¡¯t get Mana Disease, they can explode.¡± Momo¡¯s eyes widened comically. ¡°Explode? And you didn¡¯t think to mention that beforehand?¡± ¡°It didn¡¯t seem pertinent.¡± Momo gave Sumire a look, as if to say I¡¯m an idiot, thank you for asking the right questions. Sumire smiled and mouthed, ¡°it¡¯s my job.¡± ¡°So,¡± Sumire said, temporarily concluding her investigation into Kezko to move onto a more pressing topic. ¡°What did you mean your plan, Momo?¡± ¡°Oh, it¡¯s simple enough,¡± Momo said, then smiled guiltily. She knew Sumire wasn¡¯t going to like this one. ¡°Do you happen to remember Death Row Fight Ring?¡± 257 – Powerleveling ¡°It¡¯s all about¡­¡± Momo did a drum roll with her hands on the table. ¡°Powerleveling.¡± This was her pitch to her board of directors. It did not go over well. ¡°It¡¯s about getting yourself killed, you mean,¡± Sumire added grumpily. ¡°And giving Nura post-traumatic flashbacks.¡± ¡°We¡¯re going to use a different name,¡± Momo said for the third time, exhausted. She should have known better than to invoke the name of the competition that had nearly killed Sumire¡¯s little sister. ¡°Something like¡­ Tournament for the Queendom.¡± She thought that name was apt. The victor takes the spoils¡ªand in this case, the spoils were the entire continent. She concocted the slightly deranged idea on her way down from the mountain; now that her Nether Demon skills were back in her grasp, that meant she had a way to level up again. And if she could level up again, that meant she could ascend to Lesser Godhood, break into the Nether, and stop what seemed like an utterly insane series of events from unfolding. Valerica told me it¡¯s my turn to protect her. So that¡¯s what I¡¯m going to do. Sometimes drastic requests require drastic measures. ¡°I had Viktor run some calculations for me,¡± Momo said, snapping her fingers. On cue, Viktor pulled a scroll from his bag and unfurled it on the table. It was a series of mathematical equations that Momo couldn¡¯t understand, but they resulted in a neat little series of decimals at the end of the page. ¡°Ten thousand novices,¡± Viktor began, pointing his pudgy finger to the page. ¡°Is all it would take for Momo to break into the next rank. Of course, the busy woman that she is, she doesn¡¯t have the time for such senseless grinding. So, two.¡± Sumire scowled. ¡°Two what?¡± ¡°Two Excaliburs,¡± he replied. ¡°I¡¯ve already identified the ideal candidates myself.¡± Viktor whisked out a map of Alois, and smacked it onto the table. A plume of dust blew over the group, and Momo heard one of the worker skeletons sneeze. ¡°Since I believe in due diligence, I¡¯ve researched more than enough possible targets for our queen. There are two individuals in the Elven Empire, one from the Orcish Mists, and, of course, Jarva¡¯s new heir¡ªprobably the best choice of the bunch, seeing as he¡¯s an Excalibur only in rank. His actual battle qualifications are quite slim, since he just hatched from his egg.¡± Momo nearly choked. ¡°Wait, what?¡± Seeing that she was alone in her surprise, she turned to Sumire, who looked at her sheepishly. ¡°Jarva has a new heir?¡± Momo continued, when no one else said anything. ¡°Yes. It didn¡¯t seem worth sending a memo in the mail about it,¡± Sumire explained quietly. ¡°Since it¡¯s just like Viktor says. The heir is basically just an inanimate sack of cells at this point. It doesn¡¯t even have legs or arms yet, as far as my intel goes. I doubt it or its appointed protectors would volunteer it for some sort of death match. It¡¯d be like submitting a hardboiled egg for a marathon.¡± ¡°Sack of cells or not, I don¡¯t know how I feel about putting the country on offer if there¡¯s a chance that Kyros could reclaim it,¡± Momo mumbled. Sumire huffed. ¡°But you¡¯re okay with giving it away to the Elven Empire?¡± ¡°Of course not,¡± Momo said, holding her head in her hands. ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ I can¡¯t imagine a better way to attract the premier talent of Alois to our doorstep without offering a seismic sort of prize.¡± ¡°But what if you don¡¯t win, Momo? What if you pass out? What if you die? You just¡­ give away the Queendom? Just like that?¡± Momo shrugged. ¡°No. Because I plan on rigging the thing.¡± The room went silent. Then, after a beat, Sumire shook her head. ¡°You¡¯re unbelievable,¡± she said. ¡°How the hell do you intend to do that?¡± Momo fished out a piece of paper from her pocket. It was a scrap from her notebook, wrinkled and full of frenzied handwritten ideas. At the bottom of the page was a sentence, circled with ink. Momo read it aloud, so the full crowd could hear her. ¡°Each nation can submit one contestant total, but there is no limit to how many of this one contestant can be present on the battlefield.¡± Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. Sumire balked at her, utterly lost. ¡°What is that supposed to mean? That sounds like gibberish.¡± Kezko¡¯s chair scraped across the floor noisily. He stood, cleared his throat, and looked toward Momo. ¡°Shall we show them what we¡¯ve been discussing, your highness?¡± Momo shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t think there will be a better time to try it, so, yeah. Let¡¯s go for it.¡± Taking a sharp breath in, Momo pressed the tips of her fingers to the gem in her neck. [Body Double] The next sound she heard was a shriek. Since one of her swords was still levitating in the air, when it executed the spell, it spawned the body double a good ten feet up in the air. The newly summoned Momo fell without a hint of grace, flailing her limbs and screaming until she was caught by Kezko. ¡°Hello there,¡± he greeted. The screaming continued, but softer. ¡°Not again,¡± Clone-Mo cried, exasperated. ¡°I was just on my lunch break.¡± And just like that, Momo¡¯s former self was back in Alois¡ªonly, she had never really been there. The only time they had actually spent together was in the Nether, where the spell¡¯s time limit didn¡¯t apply correctly. They had spent minutes or hours or years together in that green grass field, depending on who you asked. Now, they only had ten minutes. ¡°Is that a cigarette?¡± Momo said, by way of an introduction. She had planned an entire speech for her clone, a well thought-out spiel explaining her plans, but all of that was thrown in the trash the moment she spotted the Lucky Strike cigarette in between Clone-Momo¡¯s fingers. ¡°Did you¡ªdid we¡ªpick up smoking?¡± Feeling a foreign, motherly instinct course through her, she plucked the cigarette out of her clone¡¯s hands. Clone-Mo stared at her, annoyed. Or as annoyed as a teenage Momo could look, which was still largely frightened and mousey. And yet, by and large, this Momo looked different. Uncanny valley different. She had never known this version of herself. Her hair was messy yet stylish, damp from mousse and not just sweat; her jacket was tucked in at the waist, her pants baggy but brand-name. She had freckles. She didn¡¯t even know it was possible for her to have freckles. This was a version of herself without a severe Vitamin D deficiency. That was very difficult for her to grapple with. With a sigh, Clone-Mo extracted a cellphone from her pocket. It was one of those flip phones from the early 2000s, before sliding keyboards took the world by storm. It was bright pink, and had a little hula girl attached to it like a keychain. Momo had no recollection of ever owning this phone; a phone for a high schooler had certainly been out of their family budget at the time. ¡°Are you¡­ texting?¡± Momo said, voice hoarse. ¡°Yes,¡± Momo said, and then frowned at her screen. ¡°But there¡¯s no service here. Can I use your phone? Cheryl is going to be pissed if I don¡¯t show up for Mallmart diversity training. She told me I needed to help out by providing some lived experience. Apparently they couldn¡¯t find any other gay people in a ten mile radius, so they¡¯re choosing to victimize me.¡± ¡°Y¨Cyou¡¯re out?¡± Momo mumbled. ¡°People at Mallmart know you¡ªwe¡¯re¡ªgay?¡± This was all becoming way too much for her to handle. In the grand scheme of things, she had much bigger fish to fry, and yet this now suddenly seemed like the most pressing issue. Clone-Mo shrugged, blushing. She still seemed shy about it, but not the extreme extent that Momo remembered being back in high school. Or now, apparently. ¡°I guess,¡± she said. ¡°It¡¯s not like it comes up much at the maternity section, but sometimes I do wear my pride bracelet, like today.¡± She gestured to her wrist, where a rainbow version of the Catwalk Communicator was sitting. A piece of elven model industry technology transformed into a crayon-infused rainbow arm piece. Momo blinked at it in disbelief. She was becoming rapidly aware of how time was counting down, and she hadn¡¯t even gotten to the reason she had brought Clone-Momo here in the first place. Not to mention that Sumire was looking increasingly stunned in the corner of her eye. The pirate seemed moments away from having a full blown panic attack. ¡°Okay. Great, that¡¯s¡­ great, Momo. I¡¯m happy for you,¡± she said, trying to get her thoughts together. ¡°Look, we don¡¯t have much time, so I need to ask you for a favor. And honestly, looking at you now, this might not even be the hard sell I thought it was going to be.¡± Clone-Mo¡¯s ears were pierced, with small black cats dangling from each lobe. Momo looked at Kezko, and gestured to them. ¡°Do you think those could work?¡± ¡°Gem insertion into the earlobe hole?¡± Kezko said, humming. ¡°I had never thought to do it that way, but it might just work. I¡¯ll have to craft something to fit her specifically, but once that¡¯s done, we should be able to test it with relative ease. The harder part, of course, will be convincing subsequent clones.¡± Sumire finally interjected, mouth dry. ¡°Subsequent clones?¡± Momo nodded, feeling pretty proud of herself. For as ridiculous as the plan seemed on the surface, it was¡ªin her humble, unbiased opinion¡ªpretty genius. ¡°Yep,¡± she said. ¡°That¡¯s the crux of it. I do as much of the fighting as I can myself, but then I can use these mana gems in order to tap into the mana pools of my clones, and fire spells through them. So one clone can summon another, and another, and so on and so forth. It¡¯ll be like an unlimited money glitch, body double style.¡± Kezko sighed happily. ¡°It¡¯s spectacular in its recursive simplicity. Of course, there is the matter of the clones¡¯ mana pools being insufficient¡ªsince many of them will likely not have magical powers like our Momo does¡ªbut that¡¯s nothing we can¡¯t enhance with potions and the like. And since we¡¯re the ones setting the rules of the competition, we can design it to fit our needs.¡± ¡°And since I only have to beat two Excaliburs, it doesn¡¯t really matter if the other competitors notice that I¡¯m cheating. We just have to make sure they don¡¯t notice until after the second round.¡± ¡°That¡¯s¡­¡± Sumire blinked slowly. ¡°Still a very terrible plan, Momo. No offense,¡± she said, finally, to Momo¡¯s displeasure. ¡°You know I¡¯m usually the last person to suggest this, but why don¡¯t we, I don¡¯t know, find you a quest to go on? Go send you to kill some mega-monster? I¡¯m sure our resident researcher over here can find you something. Something that won¡¯t try and take over our capital city for the hundredth time right after I just finished repairing it.¡± Sumire fixed Viktor with a glare as hot as the sun. The wizard coughed loudly. ¡°We¡­¡± he trailed off. ¡°Had not considered that approach yet, no.¡± ¡°That¡¯s actually not a bad idea,¡± Momo mumbled. ¡°Sounds much less interesting,¡± Kezko commented, yawning. ¡°But I suppose we can still use the infinite clone technique there, as well. So I won¡¯t complain.¡± Momo nodded, and then, as if she had thought of the idea herself, thrust her hand upward. ¡°Mega-monster hunting it is,¡± she bellowed loudly. Then, quieter, she added. ¡°And let¡¯s try and forget the other idea I had, please.¡± 258 – Bruda, Revisited ¡°The Siren of Astervad,¡± Kezko said, his prosthetic eye dilating as he inspected Momo¡¯s rapier. They sat side by side in the back of a horse-drawn carriage, two undead stallions and a bony coachman carrying them south. ¡°If she¡¯s still alive, she¡¯ll be more than enough for you.¡± ¡°It¡¯s that second part I¡¯m concerned about,¡± Momo said skeptically. After it was decided that Momo would set out on a monster hunt, Kezko had elected himself pointman for the expedition. After all, besides being an artificer, he was a well-respected monster finder¡ªnot a monster hunter, if that wasn¡¯t clear¡ªbut a very good locator of beasts. It was what had brought him to the top of the Twin Ivories: a search for dragons. It wasn¡¯t that Momo doubted his talents. It was just that she doubted his¡­ timeframe. Being in a cryogenic coma for a couple decades was much like getting abruptly released after a long-term jail sentence; things on the outside just weren¡¯t the same. ¡°The Siren has been around for many more years than I was paralyzed,¡± Kezko murmured, setting down the rapier on his lap to pick an instrument from his satchel. It was a tiny hammer, one he used to lightly tap at the mana gem embedded in the hilt. It resonated against the stone with a shrill hiss. ¡°She is what they call a myth. And myths do not die.¡± Usually because they were never real in the first place, Momo thought, sighing. Nevertheless, it didn¡¯t really matter. This would be a short trip. They only had to go as far as Bruda, because, if Kezko was to be believed, the Siren resided in the crystal pools located just beneath the mountain village. She would have been more skeptical if she hadn¡¯t sailed the undercanals before, but now she knew from experience that Alois had its wealth of easter eggs. Also, while she wouldn¡¯t admit it outloud, Momo was quite excited to see Bruda. She hadn¡¯t managed a trip back since the tournament, and the whole ordeal with Nia and Trent. The latter of the two who was still completely AWOL, a fact that kept Momo regularly up at night. She couldn¡¯t help but feel partially responsible for his whole call-to-evil thing. Well, not as responsible as Nia, who orchestrated his entire indoctrination without a smidge of guilt, but still, Momo felt bad. He had been a child. The horses neighed, bucking as the undead carriage came to a sliding halt. They had slipped into the town under the cape of night, the village¡¯s only illumination being the effervescent fireflies that hung in the air like floating fairy lights. Momo inhaled, stepping out of the guest compartment and onto the paved, well-manicured city street, and smiled. There was a nostalgic flavor to the cold mountain air; she could still smell the residue of the honeydew milk that was always sold at the market stalls. Just ahead of her, standing just as imperious as it did during that fateful tournament, was Devola¡¯s School of Dance, even grander now than it was before¡ªtaller, with several more floors, and a refurbished red roof. Its studios were seemingly still alive with action, even at night. The flickering shadow of a dancer shuffled from one panel of the panoramic window to the next. Fireflies swarmed around the side of the building, drawn to the motion. ¡°This is a strange place,¡± Kezko muttered, and Momo could only laugh in agreement. ¡°You should have seen it back in the day,¡± she said. ¡°The giant sentient glob of zombie goo would have been right up your alley, I think.¡± ¡°Oh, now I¡¯m just jealous,¡± he whistled. ¡°How many wonderful things I¡¯ve missed.¡± ¡ª This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. ¡°What I don¡¯t understand,¡± Momo said between huffing breaths, her muscles straining. ¡°Is why she¡¯s called the Siren of Astervad, if she lives in Bruda.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t see why that¡¯s confusing,¡± he said, then diverted. ¡°Where did you grow up, Momo?¡± She tossed another rock over her shoulder. ¡°How is that related?¡± Kezko stood behind her, useless as a blunt knife, as Momo carved her hands into dirt. They had walked past the dance school, ambled through Bruda¡¯s residential neighborhoods, until finally coming to a stop in the deadened field that once held Lione¡¯s haunted manor. The grass of the estate had been gray and wilted, the trees mere skeletons of bark. The actual residence had been reduced to a crumbling mess of wooden beams and shards of glass. She had been caught in a twisted sort of reverie, just looking at it, wondering what had become of both Lione and her little brother, when Kezko had pointed to the house¡¯s ashes and said: ¡°Dig.¡± Now, with messy piles of debris mounting behind her¡ªmany of which included discarded skeletons from Lione¡¯s many failed experiments¡ªshe was almost nearing the bottom of the wreckage. ¡°Just tell me,¡± he repeated. ¡°Where did you grow up?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t see why it matters, but¡­ San Francisco,¡± she said, biting down the unease she felt even speaking it aloud. Seeing her clone just a few days ago¡ªall self-assured, smoking thin cigarettes, talking about kissing girls like it was a hobby and not a pipe dream¡ªhad unlocked something inside of her. A curiosity. Like maybe returning to Earth wouldn¡¯t be the worst thing that could happen to her. And that was, in its own way, terrifying. ¡°And was it called San Francisco three thousand years ago?¡± Kezko cut in. Momo frowned, getting his point. ¡°No.¡± ¡°So Bruda¡­¡± ¡°Used to be Astervad,¡± she finished. He hummed. ¡°Right.¡± It was easy to forget that this world was just as old as her own, its history just as cluttered. She had both witnessed and introduced so much chaos since arriving, so much turbulent change¡ªit was hard to imagine that all she had seen and done was just a blip on the timeline. A small crease to be inevitably straightened out under Morgana¡¯s heel. Or Kyros¡¯s paw. Depending on how this goes. She winced as her hand collided with something hard and hot, like molten lava. Thankfully, her hands were made of Nether now, so the nerve endings there were more suggestion than reality, and the feeling faded as quick as it came. Curious, she shoved aside the remaining pieces of plaster and tile and wood, revealing a stone tablet embedded into the soil. It was a gravestone. ¡°Here lies Violet Baumfreund of Astervad,¡± she said slowly as she read the inscription, her eyes widening. She knew that last name. Was this one of Lione¡¯s¡­ ancestors? She turned to Kezko, skeptical. ¡°How exactly am I supposed to fight a corpse?¡± ¡°Oh, Momo,¡± he said, wistfully, then came to squat by her side. ¡°Don¡¯t judge a grave by its cover. The only dead thing lurking under here is probably a hundred or so naive adventurers.¡± He slammed his black staff on the ground twice, the sound reverberating. Then he called out, ¡°[Raise Undead].¡± All at once, dozens of bodies rose from the dry weeds, Lione¡¯s former test subjects clawing their way back into the world of the living. They were humans, mostly, but some were so fatally altered that it was hard to see them that way¡ªskulls located under femurs, hands below feet. ¡°Skeletons,¡± he commanded, clearing his throat. He tapped the gravestone with his staff. ¡°Please move the stone out of the way and escort us to Miss. Baumfreund¡¯s resting place.¡± The skeletons obediently crawled to the side of their master, moaning as they dug bony digits into the dirt, just like Momo had. As she watched them carve the gravestone out of the soil, a thought occurred to her. She scowled at Kezko. ¡°Why did you make me dig if you were planning on doing this the whole time?¡± He looked at her as if it was obvious. ¡°Strength training, darling,¡± he said, huffing. ¡°Didn¡¯t we discuss this?¡± After a few minutes, the gravestone was completely ripped from its resting place. The skeletons placed it aside reverently, with such affection, the sort that only the undead would have for a gravestone; after all, most of them were never blessed with a final resting place. Underneath it, in the space left behind, the ground opened up like a gaping gullet. And a set of stairs, plated with silver, descended down into dark oblivion. Human bones accompanied each step like ornaments. Momo gawked at it in disbelief. This had been sitting under the manor the whole time? She wasn¡¯t sure why she was surprised. Of course Lione had built her house on top of a grave. No better place to concoct undead abominations than in the midst of your ancestor¡¯s ghosts. ¡°Come on now,¡± Kezko said, already proceeding down the stairs. ¡°We have a beautiful concert awaiting us, and I¡¯d like to get front row seats.¡± 259 – The Siren of Astervad Momo apprehensively descended the stairs. The skeletons walked ahead, mindless, their bones clunking against the narrow corridor. The deeper they delved, the louder the echo, and the more that a chill began to envelop her, hugging her from all sides. Kezko trailed his fingers along the rough rock walls reverentially. He seemed to have history with this place. Or, at the very least, an affection for it. ¡°How much do you know about sirens?¡± he asked. Momo huffed out a laugh. ¡°Oh, so now you want to talk about them?¡± Despite Momo¡¯s incessant asking about the creatures on the ride over, Kezko had shared very little. She imagined he had a reason for this, but she also imagined it was not a reason she¡¯d like. It reminded her of how Valerica taught¡ªthrough tests. First, the ridiculous digging through the dirt, now this question, unprompted. The fact that he¡¯d decided to bring it up now made dread creep up her spine. They had to be close. ¡°I know you disagree, but I strongly believe that it is best to discuss relevant information as close to the event as possible,¡± he said as they finally came to the end of the staircase, exiting onto a level floor. ¡°It keeps things fresh in the mind. So, I take it that you know nothing at all?¡± She wavered in between yes and no. Momo had studied mythological creatures during one semester at college. It was an art course intended to give students an opportunity to get adventurous with anatomy, to play with size and proportion. At the time, Momo had preferred not to get adventurous with, well, anything, illustrations included, so she had spent the length of the semester drawing birds with slightly oversized beaks. But sirens¡­ she had seen them in her textbook, even if she hadn¡¯t deigned to draw them: fish women who sang sailors to death. They were uncomplicated in design: half fish, half beauty queen. She hadn¡¯t been very interested in them then. They had just seemed like another mythologized male fantasy; nothing but a redundant trope about beautiful women, unmasked¡ªthe rotten core lying beneath. ¡°I don¡¯t know much, no.¡± As they turned another corner, light poured in. It was a cavern they had entered, lit not by torches, but by a mysterious, glowing lake. Frozen grass surrounded the body of water, and supernaturally large icicles hung from the cavern¡¯s domed ceiling. She pressed her fingers to her cheeks, and they felt frigid; her breath, coming out in slow puffs, emerged like white vapor. It was as cold as winter in the arctic. ¡°It¡¯s freezing in here,¡± she said, hugging herself. ¡°How is the lake not frozen over?¡± ¡°That would make it very difficult for Ms. Baumfreund to come up for a snack, now wouldn¡¯t it?¡± Momo did not like the insinuation there. Nor did she enjoy the sight of human bones littering the lake¡¯s edge. The two conjoined to create a very specific image. ¡°You were telling me about sirens,¡± Momo reminded him impatiently while she watched the water. It was unmoving. Stagnant. For now. ¡°They¡¯re supposed to be like¡­ singing fish women, right? Lots of scales, beautiful faces, fanged teeth?¡± He gave her an impressed look. ¡°How apt. You certainly know your legendary monsters.¡± Momo grimaced. From an outdated art textbook written by some guy in upstate New York, sure. ¡°That¡¯s all I know, though. How do they attack? How big are they?¡± Kezko hummed as they approached the rim of the lake. Momo saw their reflections in the shimmering surface: her, with her white hair, tousled, and him, with his twitching eyeball. This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. ¡°She can attack you two ways. Firstly, up close, with her claws, and then from a distance, using psychic magic. It will feel like your ears are ringing,¡± he instructed. ¡°And they are, well. Big.¡± ¡°And how do I kill one?¡± Momo pressed. That was the most important part, of course. Survival wouldn¡¯t be enough. She was here for the experience points, and in order to maximize them, heads would have to roll. He smiled at her mischievously. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± Momo blinked at him. ¡°What?¡± she said, air falling from her lungs. ¡°What do you mean, you don¡¯t know?¡± ¡°That¡¯s the fun of it,¡± he giggled. ¡°I have no clue. Do you think she would still be alive if such a fact was common knowledge?¡± He gestured to the bones on the ground, then at the undead skeletons which were standing at the perimeter. Momo gaped at him, equal parts fear and anger building in her chest. ¡°How am I supposed to kill something that¡¯s unkillable?¡± she hissed. ¡°She¡¯s not unkillable,¡± he corrected her, suddenly serious. ¡°There are no immortal monsters. Just ones with very long lifespans. I have it on good authority that there used to be many sirens in Alois, thousands of years ago, but they all died, or were killed, somehow. Unfortunately, that somehow has been lost to time. Discovering these lost killing methods, putting them down on paper¡ªthat is my mission. For the sake of historical memory.¡± Momo could punch him. She took a long, leveling breath in. ¡°So that list of Excalibur-grade monsters you have,¡± she said, her hands balling into fists. ¡°Is just a list of monsters who no one knows how to kill anymore?¡± ¡°Precisely!¡± he said, giddy. ¡°Hence my lack of answers during our little carriage ride.¡± ¡°Kezko, I told you I wanted to find a way to level up quickly, not how to die quickly¡ª¡± She was cut off by a long, languid note echoing throughout the cave. The icicles clinging to the ceiling shattered, bats skittered and fled. The Siren¡¯s note fell sharp and heady on Momo¡¯s eardrums, engulfing her with an overwhelming sweetness¡ªlike all icing without any cake. She found herself unwittingly searching the room for the source of it. As she whipped her head from side to side, a faint wind blew over the grass. The lake, which had been stagnant before, was now rippling softly, like someone had skipped a dozen stones across its surface. A sense of foreboding crept up her spine. Kezko¡¯s frigid fingers placed something in her palm. ¡°You might need these,¡± he said. She looked down, then fixed him with a glare that said I¡¯m not done with you yet. He had given her two small lumps of wax. Earplugs. She hurriedly forced them into her ears, the Siren¡¯s sound dulling, but not completely. Something flicked across the water. She readied her rapier, her eyes fervidly tracking it. A splash to the left, a splash to the right. It looked like a frog that was jumping from lilypad to lilypad, only there was no frog¡ªthere was nothing. Between movements, there was only stillness, silence. The water at Momo¡¯s feet gurgled. Two pure white pupils stared back at her from below. Momo dodged back urgently, but not urgently enough. A giant snake erupted from the water, spraying water in a furious torrent. The humongous wave crashed over Momo, and she was instantly soaked through. Freezing damp cloth clung to her skin as the serpent stalled in the air. Blinking through her wet eyelashes, Momo¡¯s eyes raked up the scaled, beefy body of the cylindrical creature, until her eyes finally halted. A human-like torso sprung from the tail of the beast, a naked, flat expanse of blue skin that extended into arms, then a head. The head belonged to a woman¡ªor something like a woman. The creature¡¯s lips were full, and her eyes had dark creases that resembled swooped eyeliner. Chaotic mats of seaweed hair sprung from her scalp, and blue scales jutted out of her cheekbones, giving her a jagged but striking silhouette. She was beautiful, powerful, terrifying. She was everything Momo ever read about, but alive. A completely strange, unbidden thought crossed Momo then, at just how incredibly lucky she suddenly felt. Lucky to witness this creature, this woman, this myth. Because, as it turned out, what had been so artfully depicted in her textbook was not a product of the human imagination, but of human telepathy: the universal fact that, even though someone from Earth may never visit Alois, memories floated between the two worlds, ever-malleable. It was evidence that the Nether was not just a place where people went to die. It was a subway system of mortal experience, constantly transiting ideas through multiplexes of universes. What was a storybook page on Earth was a living, breathing monstrosity before her now. How beautiful was that? Pain tore through Momo¡¯s skull as the creature¡¯s lips began to move. Even through her earplugs, Momo could hear the siren¡¯s song. It was angelic, saccharine, almost begging. Begging for Momo to set down her weapon. It was a white flag of a melody, a cry for treaty. It burned like a needle directly to the brain. Momo felt her grip weaken. The muscles in her arm were acting without volition, her fingers twitching. She wanted so badly to set it down¡ªto rest, and lie, and sleep. No. She gripped the hilt of her sword, and clenched her jaw. If this altercation became a myth someday, passed across the universal consciousness and into future art textbooks, she wasn¡¯t going to be remembered like all those dumb, ogling sailors. She was going to shape the narrative her way. And her way started by running the hell away. ¡°Skeletons,¡± she yelled, twisting her head to the back of the room. ¡°Charge her!¡± 260 – Sinking Even if Momo didn¡¯t particularly share Kezko¡¯s excitement for hunting unkillable things, she could understand the allure of an unknowable opponent. That kind of foe that, like a ripe grape at a vineyard, frothed up a type of ultra-concentrated, finely-distilled fear. A fear so potent that it became a drug¡ªone that kept her so focused her eyes ran dry. So she watched, unblinkingly, as she sent the skeletons to the slaughter. She knew she had to conserve her strength and her Mana, so it was best to observe the Siren¡¯s techniques from a distance before trying anything of her own. She hid partially behind a column of stone, shooing away a horde of bats, and covered her ears with the palms of her hands. ¡°I¡¯ll leave you to it, then!¡± Kezko cried out, shouting at her from the stairway, which he was rapidly ascending. ¡°I¡¯m no good at fighting without a minion to control. I fear I¡¯ll just get in your way. But I have the utmost belief that you¡¯ll do it, my dear!¡± ¡°Wait, what?¡ª¡± Unfortunately, even distance didn¡¯t save her when the siren opened her lips and released a screeching cry; the skeletons¡¯ skulls exploded, waves of noise detonating bone. Momo cried out, shoving her fingers as deep as she could get them in her ear canals. It felt as if she was being rattled from the inside¡ªas if she was back in Devola¡¯s embrace, her bones teetering in their sockets from a waltz gone wrong. Even through the pain, she forced herself to survey the damage. And she was glad she did, because she noticed something strange¡ªonly the heads of the skeletons had been blown off. They still had access to the rest of their limbs, which were now clumsily limping into the water. It seemed that the siren had somehow finely-tuned her scream to only target the bones in the head¡ªwas this the psychic magic Kezko was talking about? So all I need to do is keep my head protected? First ideas are rarely the best ones, but Momo¡¯s skull was still ringing, so she went with it; attuning to her sword, she closed her eyes and cast [Nether Cultivator] into the dark, imagining the thickest pair of earmuffs imaginable, the type they¡¯d have lining the walls at gun ranges in the deep south. She wasn¡¯t sure how Nether as a material would block out sound¡ªshe wasn¡¯t sure what Nether was made of to begin with¡ªbut she figured it was better than the flimsy wax disintegrating against her eardrums. The all-black earmuffs dropped off the hilt of her sword onto the ground, landing with a loud thump against the rock. She was unpleasantly surprised at their heaviness. She had wanted to make them thick, but thick in the way a good mattress topper was thick, not in the way that a boulder was. Her arms ached just to lift them. But this is what she got for using Nether to construct clothing; its physical traits were about as reliable as success at a slot machine. You ask for cherries, you get two red clown noses. You ask for earmuffs, you get a well-fitting set of rocks. Groaning, she managed to heave them around her head, and was instantly grateful at the silence that fell over her. She saw a skeleton¡¯s body get slapped against the cavern wall and explode into shattered bits, a flurry of icicles tearing it apart, and yet her eardrums only heard a quiet thud. While the weight of the headset was unfortunately enormous, due to the Strength training she had been subjecting herself to for weeks, she was able to bear it without crumpling into a ball. Momo grimaced as she took in the state of her adoptive army. There were only a few skeletons remaining on the beachside, and the Siren clearly hadn¡¯t lost energy taking care of them. If anything, she seemed excited¡ªher smile ravenous, her seaweed locks erect like Medusa¡¯s. To her, this was nothing more than a post-hibernation treat. As the Siren toyed with the last skeleton, lifting it to her mouth and gnawing at its bones like a dog with a chicken wing, Momo weighed her options. She could use some of the rapier¡¯s mana to raise the skeletal army again, buying her more time and letting her check to see if the Siren whipped out any secret techniques¡ªbut that would likely be a waste of the sword¡¯s Mana. A skeletal foot skidded to a stop in front of Momo. She looked up, and the Siren¡¯s eyes caught hers¡ªtwo ice-white pupils that blinked sideways, like a reptile. She felt her stare like a piercing arrowhead, chills running down her spine. The siren¡¯s mouth began to slowly open again, wider now, as if she had noticed Momo¡¯s extra protection and was now accounting for it¡ª Momo thrust her sword in front of her. ¡°[Infinite Blade of the Nether Demon]!¡± A streak of black erupted from her blade, directed straight at the Siren¡¯s neck. It was off by an inch, but that was intentional¡ªshe used all her strength to swing the blade to the right, cutting a clean line across the beast¡¯s thick skin. This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. The Siren howled, and Momo thanked her lucky stars she had taken the time and the Mana to create the Nether earmuffs, because even through them she felt like her head was splitting in two. Stars danced along her vision, and the rapier involuntarily jumped from her shaking hands, clattering onto the floor. She whimpered, kneeling to the ground and reaching for it despite the radiating pain circling like a shark in her skull. And the emotion in her chest surprised her¡ªthe aching need she felt as she dragged her fingers along the stone floor, searching for the sword¡ªhow useless she felt without it. How reliant she was. But what was surprising to her was not that she felt this feeling in the pit of her stomach toward the sword, because of course, she was reliant on it¡ªwithout it, she was just a lump of powerless, exhausted human flesh, a manaless husk of a mage¡ª What surprised her is¡­ she no longer felt it toward a person. There was no one coming to save her, and that was okay. She no longer felt useless alone. The tips of her fingers found the hilt of the sword, and she grabbed it. She forced her head upward, gritting her teeth, to find the siren decapitated. Decapitated, but more importantly, not dead. And stranger even, it was still singing. Momo¡¯s eyes flicked to its head on the ground¡ªit was still, slack. Then where was that song coming from? Momo followed the creature¡¯s hands. She expected them to be gripping around its phantom skull, desperate and confused, but they weren¡¯t. They were hiding somewhere behind its back¡ªlike a drawing Momo would have done when she was younger, unable to compute the proportions of knuckles and thumbs. Was its human head just a decoy? It had to be. If this beast really hadn¡¯t been slaughtered in thousands of years, Momo was sure it wasn¡¯t as simple as just cutting it down to pieces. The myth of the Siren was about misdirection, after all. Beauty was the red herring it used to enthrall and consume. Unfortunately, this all meant she¡¯d need to get around to its back. Not an impossible task¡ªshe could fly, after all¡ªbut she was intentionally keeping her distance so she wasn¡¯t too close to its claws. If it managed to separate Momo from her rapier, she¡¯d be done for. Momo had no other choice. She got a running start, balancing her breathing just like Nia had taught her, before taking off, her wings gliding along the smooth, cold stone of the cavern walls. She did a circle around the beast, keeping a wide berth. It screeched again, sharper, trying to ward her off, but Momo pressed on. She wanted to see where those hands were headed, what they were protecting. And there it was¡ªor rather, there they were¡ªclear as day, three diamond-shaped glands on the back of the fishwoman¡¯s leathery midsection. The Siren¡¯s hands were cupping over them protectively, leaving only one open¡ªthe true mouth, presumably¡ªto scream. In all her frenetic adrenaline, Momo actually grinned. I¡¯m doing this. I¡¯m doing this alone. I¡¯m coming, Valerica. She raised her infinite blade upward, priming to strike down again. She¡¯d do two cuts, one down, another across. It¡¯d be more than enough to shred them. ¡°[Infinite Blade of The¡ª]¡± Her mouth went slack. A sharp, drenching pain washed over her. She looked down at her stomach. Protruding from her gut was an icicle, sharp as a knife. It had pressed all the way through her robes before exiting cleanly near her belly button. In her shock, Momo slowly turned her head backward toward the cavern wall. A hundred identical icicles protruded out of the wall just as this one had¡ªa wall of frozen spikes¡ªall seemingly appearing out of nowhere. How did she ¡­? The Siren screamed again, and the icicles shattered. The one in Momo¡¯s stomach, which had been keeping her where she was, suffered the same fate¡ªand Momo plummeted. She didn¡¯t have the energy to keep her wings afloat, so she dove like a ragdoll into the deep lake, an anchor being pulled down with a sinking ship. As she sank, her limbs clawing through the waves, she caught sight just how deep the body of the Siren went. Its serpentine form twisted in circles, piling up like rope at the bottom of the lake. Sputtering off the Siren¡¯s tail were tendrils which slipped around the perimeter of the pool, touching every wall, sneaking into every crack and crevice. Momo noted, somehow, through bouts of delirious panic, that the water she was sinking through alternated between molten and freezing¡ªthe cause most likely being the puffs of hot and cold liquid ejecting from the serpent¡¯s hundreds of small glands. And this, of course, was something they¡¯d conveniently left out of the art textbooks¡ªsirens could evidently control water temperature. That was why the pool hadn¡¯t been frozen over when they entered. That was also why the Siren was able to summon up a horde of icicles seemingly at will, by sending its tendrils through the cavern walls, shooting out water from its glands, and rapidly freezing it. And all of that was wonderful to realize, but it wasn¡¯t helpful to her in the least. Momo did not know any spells about rapidly changing temperature. She couldn¡¯t turn this water into a pit of lava¡ªand even if she wanted to, that had the added effect of burning her alive. She felt useless tears leaving her eyes, melting in with the rest of the water. Not sad tears, but angry tears. And they weren¡¯t particularly helpful, either, not practically, but they sent a fervor through her veins¡ªa very human, mortal fervor. The fervor to live. She had two spells left in her, and she knew exactly which ones they¡¯d have to be. She pinched her nose, and opened her mouth. ¡°[Blade Division - Projectiles].¡± Her rapier cracked into three pieces, three slivers of demonic black, and sputtered forth through the water, up and up and up. She prayed to Morgana¡ªuselessly, because who prays to a retired goddess?¡ªand hoped they¡¯d find their intended targets. Then, with her last sliver of Mana, and her last breath, she relied¡ªonce again¡ªon herself. ¡°[Body Double]¡± 261 – Semi-Ethical Cannibalism Momo woke up to the feeling of getting punched directly in the gut. She gagged, and water spilled out of her: through her mouth, through her nostrils, maybe even through her ears. She wheezed and coughed until she had expelled nearly a gallon of fluid. ¡°You alive?¡± It was only after Momo could breathe again that she registered a body hovering over her own. It was a clone of herself, dressed in tattered leather armor, with a battleax discarded to her side. This clone was built like a barbarian¡ªveins popping out of forearms, a chiseled jawline, six pack abs. It was extremely hard to imagine that this was a version of herself, even despite the obvious similarities. They were still the same height, with the same button nose and pockmarked dimples. ¡°I¨CI,¡± Momo babbled, then spat out the last remaining bit of phlegm-water. ¡°Yes?¡± Realizing she¡¯d been hauled out onto the lip of the beach like a hooked fish, Momo turned her head to look back toward the pool. The Siren was lying in a deadened pile of flesh upon the surface of the water, still and unmoving. Momo could barely process what she was seeing. Her head was still thrumming, her ears ringing. ¡°I think you dropped this,¡± her clone said, offering her the Siren¡¯s decapitated head. Momo took it, still dazed. ¡°You have slain quite the beast. I¡¯m unsure how I ended up here, but I am always attracted to great feats of battle, so I am not surprised. Well done, warrior.¡± As her feelings of imminent drowning faded, a rush of excitement sprouted in Momo¡¯s chest, and she scrambled upwards. Taking off from the ground, she flew around to the back of the siren, and found that her targets had indeed landed their mark¡ªthree giant sword-shaped gashes had pierced the glands in the back of the siren. When Momo touched the flesh of the glands, pieces of brain-like gore leaked out of them. Gross. Gross. Gross. Momo covered her mouth automatically to keep from throwing up. ¡°Well done indeed!¡± She whipped around to find Kezko with his arm wrapped around her clone¡¯s shoulder, giving Momo a dazzlingly grotesque smile. Anger burst through her at the sight of him¡ªhe had left her alone to fight what was described as an unkillable beast, after all¡ªbut she didn¡¯t have the opportunity to let it out. Something much more important caught her eye before she could. A piece of parchment, hiding discreetly in the sand. It was lying just where Barbarian-Momo had seemingly dragged her body out of the water and laid her to thaw out on the beachside. She immediately dove down to it, her feet burying in the icey sand as she took it into her hands.
Congratulations! You have taken down the Siren of Astervad, a Mythic-ranked creature. These types of monsters are endemic to every single planet in the universe, in one way, shape, or form. Removing one is like taking a peg out of the Nether web of information, meaning it will reincarnate as a new Mythic creature very soon, and terrorize a new generation. Fun! Tip: Don¡¯t get too cozy, because it might be coming for you!
Before she could read down the rest of the page, Momo momentarily set down the paper, her hands shaking with anger as he did so. She fixed her sights on Kezko. ¡°Kezko, did you know about this?¡± ¡°Know about what, darling?¡± She stared at his face of genuine confusion. ¡°It says,¡± she started, jaw clenching. ¡°Now that I¡¯ve killed the Siren, it''s going to reincarnate as a new mythic creature¡ªand come after me?¡± He laughed lightly, with zero shame. ¡°Well, yes. Of course. I figured it¡¯ll be much easier for you to continue experience-grinding that way, since mythics typically seek the one that killed them after their rebirth. No monster-hunting required, since the monster will hunt you!¡± Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. Momo¡¯s stomach sank even further. Great. Yet another thing to keep her awake at night. ¡°And how long exactly before it¡­ rebirths?¡± Kezko shrugged. ¡°Could be an hour. Could be a day. Could be forever. It depends on how eager the Nether System Administrators are on killing you. You wouldn¡¯t happen to have made any enemies among their ranks, have you?¡± Momo groaned, recalling all at once every passive aggressive piece of parchment she¡¯d received since coming to Alois. She¡¯d pissed off only, like, all of them. And now that Kyros was purportedly in charge, they had even more of a reason to go after her. If she were a betting woman, she¡¯d put down her entire savings on the fact that this mythic creature would reincarnate within the week, at the least convenient time for Momo, and bash her skull in. ¡°Sumire just rebuilt our capital from the ground up for the second time in a year,¡± Momo said, breathing inward sharply. ¡°Did you maybe consider that I wouldn¡¯t want a mythic-grade monster spawning in my house?¡± He frowned. ¡°Well, I¡¯ve never been one to care about the consequences of my battles on city infrastructure, so no. You said you wanted to gain experience as quickly as possible, even despite your ongoing Mana Disease, and I¡¯ve done nothing but help you toward the goal.¡± She bit her tongue. He wasn¡¯t wrong. Still, she couldn¡¯t just avoid going back to Morganium forever. She wasn¡¯t about to repeat her stint from last year of avoiding Sumire and all her friends just because she was afraid they might get hurt. If she really was on the course to ascend to Lesser Godhood, she wasn¡¯t going to do it without saying goodbye to the people who helped her get here. She stared at the Siren lying there in a dead heep, and an idea started brewing in the back of her mind. While she couldn¡¯t see its soul chain, she imagined it was still intact. Only once it disintegrated and went back to the Nether would the reincarnation process begin. But if something was to disrupt that process¡ªsay, to consume the soul¡ª ¡°Kezko,¡± she interjected. ¡°My sword. The Nether Rapier. Is it possible to¡­ destroy it?¡± But it wasn¡¯t Kezko that answered. Strangely enough, it was her clone, who had been standing there at the lip of the lake wringing out her drenched clothing. Unlike Mallmart Momo, this clone seemed to take much more quickly to the idea of appearing mid-battle in some insane fantasy world. In fact, she didn¡¯t seem fazed at all. ¡°Is your weapon made of Nether?¡± the clone asked, shrugging her semi-dried shirt back over her shoulders. ¡°If so, it is possible. But only by using holy light or a holy weapon.¡± Momo¡¯s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, are you¡­ are you from around here?¡± The clone reached for her battleax and slung it over her shoulders. ¡°What is here, exactly?¡± she yawned. ¡°Um, Alois?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t have a clue what an Al-oys is,¡± she said. ¡°But I do know about the Nether. Haven¡¯t been there myself, but I am a weapon¡¯s expert, so I¡¯ve played with a Nether sword or two. Only time I¡¯ve seen one break is when someone took a Holy Cleaver and sliced it in half. Made all the particles disperse.¡± Momo blinked in amazement at her clone. ¡°So your world is a part of the System too, then?¡± ¡°Sure is. Although I¡¯m not sure I¡¯d call it my world,¡± her clone answered. ¡°I¡¯m originally from Earth, but some weirdo necromancer decided to pull me across the planes to the Isle of Vasqua a few years back. Had to ditch that necromancer business real fast, so I took up the weapon craft. Been battling monsters and fixing up peoples¡¯ dangerous toys ever since.¡± Momo¡¯s cheeks heated, and she cleared her throat. ¡°Right. Because who would ever choose to get involved with that obviously evil necromancer business¡­¡± she trailed off. Her clone cracked a smile. ¡°Don¡¯t try to fool me with all that, other-me. I know a plane traversal when I see it. I probably only got a few minutes left on this one before I get zapped back to that crocodile I was wrestling. But this was a welcome distraction¡ªhe was a real biter.¡± She flexed her arm, showing off the red imprint of giant crocodile teeth. ¡°Reminded me of our old cat Luna.¡± Momo laughed in disbelief. She really liked this version of herself. ¡°If that¡¯s the case,¡± Momo began, staring down at the sizzling black of her sword, before she turned to look at Kezko. ¡°I have this skill called [Soul Cannibal]. It¡¯s a really nasty skill that¡­ well¡­ it¡¯s in the name. But it allows me to keep a soul stored inside of me, only to be released when I die. It also allows me to steal a skill from whoever I kill.¡± Kezko¡¯s eyes gleamed. ¡°You want to cast [Soul Cannibal] using the sword.¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Momo said slowly, nervously. ¡°But only if I can be sure that when I¡¯m done using the Siren¡¯s borrowed powers, I can destroy the sword, and free its soul again.¡± She had always thought that she¡¯d never use that skill again after the Husk, but if she could find a way to only trap the souls¡ªand their corresponding skills¡ªtemporarily, then that would be as good a loophole as any. It would prevent the Siren from respawning at an inconvenient time, and it would allow her to go around and accumulate skills from any powerful creature she could get her hands on. It¡¯d be semi-ethical soul cannibalism. ¡°As long as you can find a holy magic user to chop it in half for you,¡± Barbarian-Momo said, her skin already flickering in the light¡ªit was just a matter of time now before she dissipated. ¡°You¡¯re dandy.¡± Momo nodded decisively. She could think of quite a few holy magic users who¡¯d happily cut her weapon in half. ¡°It¡¯s settled, then,¡± she said, and raised her rapier over her head, pointing toward the pool of shimmering water. ¡°Time to pause the reincarnation cycle.¡± 262 – Mudbubbler No matter how long Momo occupied the position, being reigning Queen of Aloysius never got less weird. As her hunt for monsters continued, Momo and Kezko took the royal carriage through a battery of towns. Her reception this time around was like night and day compared to her days on the campaign trail. Where she had originally been met with pitchforks and poison darts, she was now greeted with smiles, cheers, and gifts¡ªrose petals at her feet, blood offerings from fountains of Morgana, and even, very occasionally, an entire marriage proposal. ¡°It is my understanding that you have yet to take a husband,¡± was the opening line from this town¡¯s suitor: an enterprising young necromancer who had graduated from one of the continent¡¯s new schools of death magic. ¡°I don¡¯t come from much, but I can offer several sheep, and a signed poster of Zephyra from her most recent tour¡ª¡± ¡°Actually,¡± Momo had said, blushing profusely. ¡°I kind of have a pirate at home.¡± Apparently, news about her brave victory against Sera¡¯s giant mega-monster had made its way down the grapevine, and public opinion had shot up right with it. ¡°The people really love you,¡± Kezko remarked as they waved goodbye to the crowds of Refuge¡¯s End. The skeletal horsemen had them on a course toward the depths of the forest, where Momo¡¯s next target was purportedly slumbering. At Kezko¡¯s words, Momo blushed again. Her impulse was to disagree, because, after all, that hadn¡¯t been the truth for a very long time. It had been a hell of an upward battle. But the evidence in front of her was irrefutable. ¡°I guess so.¡± As the carriage ambled over the dirt, Momo took a deep breath, enjoying the quiet of the forest. She had been so consumed by noise these last few days¡ªcharitable, well-meaning citizens shaking her hand and yelling in her ear, thanking her profusely for bringing Aloysius out of a dark age; or rather, an overly bright age. Hearing that sentiment repeated to her over and over had quite the effect on Momo. A gentle fluttering of pride swelled through her. She had been so obsessed over what¡¯d she lost, she¡¯d forgotten what her victory had actually symbolized. For the first time in years, the people of Aloysius were living in relative peace. Sure, she had made a few political fumbles¡ªlegalizing all illegal trade was maybe not her smartest move¡ªbut overall, things really had changed for the better. She saw it everywhere she went. Necromancers were no longer the underdog. Skeletons walked alongside men, performing the hard labor that was previously assigned to the prisoners in Jarva¡¯s jailhouses. And¡ªper Momo¡¯s First Law of Undead Labor¡ªeven those skeletons were given lunch breaks. Which they mostly spent staring at walls waiting for their next instruction, but still. It was the principle of it. ¡°How are you going to feel, leaving it all behind?¡± Kezko ventured the question, looking up from the spellbook in his lap. Hazy sunlight streamed into the window ahead of them, painting him in an unusually bright light, like a dentist¡¯s lamp over a set of particularly gnarly teeth. ¡°Leaving what behind?¡± she asked, eyebrows furrowing. He gestured vaguely to the carriage. ¡°All of it. When you ascend, I mean.¡± ¡°Oh.¡± She averted his gaze. She had considered it once or twice, but had deliberately stopped herself from dwelling further. She knew that¡ªunder typical conditions¡ªlesser goddesses could come and go from the Nether as they pleased. There¡¯d be nothing stopping her from doing the same once she resolved whatever immortal beef was going on up there, and got Valerica to drop the wall barring deities from the mortal world. ¡°Sumire will take over as queen just fine,¡± Momo said, and she meant it with her whole being. ¡°Hell, she¡¯s basically been running the place the entire time. Sure, her unique personality might lend to a few¡­ public relations¡­ challenges ahead, but it¡¯s nothing she can¡¯t handle. Morganium will be in good hands.¡± Kezko scoffed, slapping the spellbook closed. A plume of dust went up with it. ¡°I wasn¡¯t asking about the survival of your boring institute of government, you drag. I was asking how you¡¯ll cope with the loss of your humanity.¡± He looked at her with a raw intensity. Momo¡¯s stomach tightened. ¡°The loss of my humanity? I guess that¡¯s one way to look at it,¡± she mumbled. ¡°I can¡¯t see any other way to look at it.¡± Momo shook her head, then shrugged. ¡°Honestly, I haven¡¯t felt very human in a long time. The horns. The wings. The gerbil running constant marathons inside my rib cage. Oh, and my hair used to be jet black¡ªnow it¡¯s phantom white like somebody¡¯s bed sheets. I¡¯ve looked pale and dead and weird for a while. I don¡¯t think some semantic change from mortal to goddess is going to give me a bigger identity crisis than I already have going on.¡± And she didn¡¯t even mention the gem protruding from her neck. Momo had long since sacrificed bodily autonomy for the greater good. Kezko laughed. ¡°Well, then, I will give it to you that you are certainly more well-prepared than most for such a dramatic shifting of identity. But I do still think it will be a change unlike any you¡¯ve experienced yet. Something much less superficial. For example¡­¡± He reached for her hands, tugging them upward by the wrist and positioning them directly under a sharp ray of sunlight. The Nether skin of her fingers seemed to flicker in and out of existence like Schrodinger¡¯s box. And when the light hit them just right, it was like looking through a portal¡ªMomo could swear she saw a darkened figure standing on the other side. Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. Scared, she yanked her hands down. She knew that her transition into the Nether Demon class had done this to her, but it didn¡¯t feel so strange until just then, like her hands were no longer her own. She glared at him. ¡°What did you just do?¡± He raised his eyebrows, offended. ¡°Me? Nothing! It¡¯s a known fact that Nether distorts in reaction to sunlight. I just wanted to show you¡­ that the closer you inch to godhood, the farther you drift from the material world. You will no longer be able to predict exactly how your body will act.¡± He gently laid his hand over her own, and she watched as it fell right through hers, landing on the seat cushion. Her stomach tightened in disbelief. She hadn¡¯t even registered the sensation. How many times had something reached for her, and she hadn¡¯t felt the touch? ¡°It¡¯s true that goddesses can visit the mortal plane,¡± he said quietly, and retracted his hand. ¡°But visiting is different from living. They can appear as apparitions, as dreams, as plagues and windstorms. But they cannot live here. Because to mortals, the divine are mere concepts. And concepts have no place here, amongst the dirt and the worms.¡± The carriage crawled to a stop, the wheels turning in mud. Kezko looked ahead, out of the window. Momo stared at the side of his face. ¡°Ah, perfect timing,¡± he said, and pushed the carriage door open. ¡°Come now. We¡¯ll have to walk the rest of the way. The carriage can¡¯t carry us through this portion.¡± As Kezko began padding toward the mud fields, Momo remained in her seat for a moment longer, hands clenched. A single memory was sitting at the forefront of her mind. It was Valerica, descending from the heavens, visiting her on the stolen ship on the Barium Sea. She remembered the way Valerica had reached out and touched her hair, wanting to tousle it lovingly, and it had instead melted right off Momo¡¯s scalp, like a bad chemical reaction. That¡¯s what Kezko meant, she supposed. Her insides twisting, she followed him out of the carriage. ¡ª The mud pits were like quicksand¡ªit felt like an extreme sport just wading through them. So much so, that it forced Momo to really appreciate just how much stronger her body had become. The muscles in her thighs were stiff and pronounced. Her Stamina had nearly tripled. She was no Barbarian Momo, but her fainting spells were now the exception instead of the rule. She was starting to feel like her body was an actual functioning system again, instead of a militant set of rebellious organs plotting her downfall. It felt good. ¡°A few months ago,¡± she began breathily, inhaling as she slowly pulled her leg out of the mud again with a squelch. ¡°I think this legitimately would have killed me.¡± ¡°See! This is why I told you to not use your wings to fly over it. What is it you earthlings say? Pain is just weakness leaving the body?¡± Kezko laughed. He was being carried like a bride over the swamp, sitting comfortably in the cradle of the undead horseman¡¯s bony hands. ¡°Just keep pushing!¡± Several minutes later, when her leg finally disconnected from the last stretch of mud, Momo fell to her knees. Blood thumped in her eardrums. She took several seconds to just lie there in the damp grass, forehead planted in the dirt, feeling a level of unparalleled success and achievement. She felt again like her mother in the garden, flopped down with rose stems in her gloved hands. She really had been so blessed that the most manual labor she¡¯d done in her teenage years was carry boxes of maternity underwear to and from delivery trucks. ¡°Momo.¡± Kezko snapped his fingers into her ears. ¡°Up, up. You¡¯re not allowed to get mad at me this time. I¡¯m giving you a head start.¡± Momo weakly rose from the ground. ¡°What on earth are you talking about?¡± She raised her head, and her breath caught in her chest and she saw it slumbering there, in a wide pool of mud¡ªan undulating ball of brown, a liquid mass that was expanding and contracting with each breath. It was as big as an elephant, but with no discernible limbs. The only thing Momo could make out were its eyes and a pair of nostrils: two closed slits, and two open valves puffing out air. ¡°Now this is just disgusting, Kezko,¡± she whispered to him. ¡°This is a mythic monster?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t judge a book by its cover. It looks like a simple creature, but after you¡¯ve slashed at it enough, and find that your sword has done nothing but become increasingly sticky, you come to realize¡ªhow do you kill a swamp? And then you realize, you don¡¯t. And by the time you¡¯ve come to that inevitable conclusion, you¡¯re already floating around its digestive tract.¡± Momo narrowed her eyes at him. ¡°Helpful as always.¡± But she didn¡¯t need his help. Not that he would offer it if she did. He was already floating away on his skeletal escort, plodding through the mud back to the safety of the carriage. Because after a few of these fights¡ªfirst the Siren, then a griffon, and most recently, a thousand year old chimpanzee-goat hybrid¡ªMomo had realized that these monsters were far from unkillable. It was just that the fear they perpetuated was so thick, no one ever really gave it a try. They were like school bullies, only very ancient, and often disgusting. She did once a once over on the bubbling pile of dirt. I think I have a skill that will take care of this one. Silently, she called to the Nether for a skill list. She tapped the parchment with her finger, filtering it to only show the new skills she¡¯d gotten in the last week.
From Nether Demon (Purified Variant) (lvl. 8): [Nether Teleport]: As a Nether Demon, you can teleport from one replicant area to another without issue. Use this to escape dicy confrontations or simply fast travel. Cooldown of 17 Nether minutes. From captive souls (Soul Cannibal): Captive Soul: The Husk | Inherited Skill: [Summon Undead ¨C Husk] Captive Soul: Shir Griffin | Inherited Skill: [Ripping Talons] Captive Soul: Goatchimp of the Ancients | Inherited Skill: [Earthquake Stomp] Captive Soul: Siren of Astervad | Inherited Skill: [Temperature Control]
Extracting her rapier from its sheath, she tapped the tip of it in the mud. The beast seemed to register even the slightest wrinkle in its pool, because it immediately grunted to life, its eyes snapping open. Momo grimaced. Oops. Within a second, the mud beast had rushed upward in a fierce torrent of brown, and formed a tidal wave primed to swallow her. Instead of dodging, she decided to stay the course, flinging her sword up so it sliced right through the torrent of bubbling mud. ¡°[Temperature Control ¡ª Heat]!¡± Lava-hot heat pulsated through the blob, and the mud began to rapidly dry mid-air. In a matter of seconds, it looked as if someone had freeze-dried the tidal wave. It was frozen just above Momo¡¯s scalp, like a sculpture of clay baked in a kiln. Its two eyes were staring at her from above, rapidly shooting around, confused and unsettled. She reached out, caressing the cracked surface. ¡°I know you¡¯re just a sentient pile of mud,¡± she said softly. ¡°But I still feel kind of bad. Those big puppy dog eyes¡­¡± She frowned, biting her lip. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. This is only temporary. I¡¯m just going to borrow your soul for a little bit, and then once all of this is said and done, you can come hunt me down in whatever form you¡¯d like. Pinky promise.¡± She drove her sword into the mud, and it crumbled like a tower of sand. It was almost beautiful, the way it cracked slowly at first, then shattered so completely. She stood in the shambles of it, her legs painted with dried mud, her feet hidden away. The quiet hum of the forest birds sang as she claimed another soul for her sword.
Captive Soul: Ancient Mudbubbler | Inherited Skill: [Festering Mud]
I¡¯m sure that will come in handy for some stupid reason that I can¡¯t yet predict. She sheathed her rapier, and looked up toward the sky. Just as Kezko had predicted¡ªanother piece of parchment was caught in the wind. 263 – RANK UP: Lesser Goddess As she re-read the piece of parchment for the fourth time in a row, Momo¡¯s hands began to tremble. Goosebumps ran up her arms. It had happened, just as planned. Kezko¡¯s machinations had actually worked. And yet¡ªeverything felt way too soon. ¡°Kezko,¡± she said, a quiet whisper at first, but then snapped her head towards the lazy mage, who was busy feeding the undead horses apples. ¡°Kezko!¡± ¡°What? Are you dying?¡± ¡°No, it¡¯s¡ª¡± ¡°Then it can wait. Barnabus needs to be fed,¡± he said, cradling the horse¡¯s exposed cheekbone with the affection of a doting father. In absence of a tongue, the horse snapped at the apple cores like a starving shark, nearly taking one or two of Kezko¡¯s fingers off with each bite. ¡°You¡¯ve been such a good boy trudging us around. Oh yes you have.¡± ¡°I hit the level cap, Kezko.¡± Kezko froze, blinking twice at her. ¡°Oh.¡± Quickly followed by, ¡°oh¡ªoh dear¡ªby Morgana!¡± he screamed, and at first Momo had the naive thought that he was actually empathizing with her, but it turned out to be the reaction to something entirely separate: in his brief distraction, one of his fingers was finally mistaken for an apple. Barnabus was chewing on it like any other snack. Kezko forced the horse¡¯s jaws open, and he pulled out one black and blue, nearly disattached finger. ¡°Can I get some help with this, my deity-to-be?¡± he pleaded, and she nodded begrudgingly, shooting out a quick shock of [Dark Healing] from her sword to his finger. The digit righted itself, bone cracking back into place, and skin turning several shades back to light pink. It was a miracle to watch, even after she¡¯d seen it a dozen times. ¡°Ah,¡± he said, wagging it in the air like it was some sort of toy, and not a fragile extremity. ¡°Much better, thank you. Now. Back to the topic at hand. What¡¯s the offering package like?¡± She stared at him, mouth open, as he hovered over the mud pit, floating as easy as a flower petal. Why did he make the skeleton carry him through the mud if he can do that anyway? She wasn¡¯t sure if she felt better or worse knowing that his sadism wasn¡¯t exclusive to her. He landed gracefully in front of her, and dabbed his eyeball with a cloth. ¡°Alright,¡± he said, tucking the handkerchief away and making a give me motion with his hands. ¡°The parchment, please? You should always have a second party review terms during a promotion. Didn¡¯t Valerica ever teach you that?¡± ¡°Since she was my boss, well, no.¡± ¡°Hm. Right. I guess her altruism does indeed know some bounds.¡± Despite how annoyed she was at how unseriously he was taking this moment, as if she had just been promoted from Fry Cook Junior to Fry Cook Junior II, she did hand it over. Because, well, it gave her comfort to have someone else at least verify what she was seeing. That she was, in fact¡ªshe swallowed, her arms trembling again¡ªon the verge of becoming a goddess. A fully fledged heaven-dwelling skylady. Kezko looked the parchment up and down just once, pupil zooming in and out. With a humph, he handed it back over to her. ¡°I don¡¯t see any vacation benefits in there, so you should ask about that when you get to the Nether, but, otherwise.¡± He shrugged. ¡°Which one are you interested in?¡± And what a packed question that was¡ªbecause yeah, sure, which type of goddess was she interested in becoming? He had phrased it like they were at the McDonalds drive thru weighing if it was better to get the meal or just the burger. Hm, well, fries are certainly cheaper with the meal, especially if you want a large one. But what if she wanted a dip? What if she wanted onion rings? Which do you want, Momo? What type of ethereal being would you like to become, Momo? What mortals would you like to shepherd, Momo? Sadly, this wasn¡¯t burger and fries. This was a choice that could change the trajectory of not just her life, but that of the entire universe. Because the scope of one Queen of Aloysius all seemed rather small now, when she really thought about it. Like a speck of ketchup on the dashboard. And goddess, well¡ªthat was the whole damn franchise. That was like going from Fry Cook Jr II to Ronald McDonald. I desperately need better analogies, she thought, then groaned. Everything just felt too much. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± she said. ¡°I need to¡­ I need to think about it.¡± He had already begun floating back to the carriage, preparing the horses to chart them a path back to Morganium. ¡°Take as much time as you¡¯d like. Or don¡¯t. Morgana and Valerica are gods. They¡¯ll be alive forever.¡± He paused briefly, and gave her a considering look. ¡°In what state of mind, or in how many pieces they¡¯ll be, however, I cannot tell you. This ballgame has traveled way beyond my fence.¡± ¡ª It took eight days to make their way back to Morganium; eight excruciating nights that Momo barely slept through, the insane question looping in her head like a radio that had no off button¡ªwhat kind of goddess did she want to become? With Kezko snoring next to her, and the moonlight seeping in through the carriage window, Momo lifted the parchment above her head, and read it again.
Congratulations! You have hit the level cap for the Excalibur rank. Normally, this is where we¡¯d tell you WELL DONE, YOU DID IT, YOU ABSOLUTE MADMAN! You have conquered the last echelon in the Class System. The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Normally, we¡¯d tell you that all future skills will have to be acquired by reading skill books or pursuing education with relevant professors. We¡¯d also recommend that you take a break. Set down the sword, stop muttering incantations, and just relax. There¡¯s no more grind to be grinded. This is the sweet end, where retirement can begin. But that is no longer the script. Since this is indeed your fault, I will take this opportunity to explain to you the ramifications of it. The plight you have unwittingly put upon our heads. We at the Nether Administration Department are a hardworking but understaffed bunch. In your Earthy lore, you might have heard our occupation and general location described as ¡°hell,¡± or, more specifically, ¡°the ninth circle¡± of ¡°hell.¡± Most of us have long since forgotten the sins of our past lives which landed us here. But you intend on giving us a constant reminder of what pain truly is. Working here is an eternal punishment you are only aggravating with your constant introductions of new rules and systems and, and¡ªgeneral blasphemous activity. Since we only lose employees to the eternal flames of bureaucracy, and do not gain them back, it is important that we operate at maximum efficiency. Not only this, but Morgana has set a lofty goal for us, since the Dawn of Time¡ªone hundred percent accuracy. No courier is allowed to give the wrong mortal the wrong message, or else risk the balance of the entire universe.
If this had been a conversation and not a Stan-style one-way monologue, Momo would have pointed out that it was actually a mistaken courier which had given her the [Eye of the Nether Demon skill], and consequently allowed Momo way more insight into the inner workings of the universe than she had any business having. Not that she was complaining. The letter meandered on for a bit more, but Momo had already read the ¡®total evisceration of her character¡¯ section enough times, so she brushed past it until she got to the important bits. The bits that were actually her problem.
So, all of that is to say: we do not appreciate that you keep introducing edge cases to our workflows. Mortals should just be mortals, not gods. And yet, we must follow the commandments set forth by the haikus in the Book of Beginnings. So, mortal, due to your meddling¡­ you will now become a [Lesser Goddess].
That was the part where the personal soliloquy ended, and the Nether Administrator seemed to pass the paper over to some sort of machine for printing. The rest of writing was blocky and automatic, with a slight fading glaze like dried-out printer ink.
Please select one of the following Subdomains of Morgana.
Unlike a Class, taking on ownership of a subdomain means that you will be responsible for a specific Godly Task. Failure to take action on your Godly Tasks means that the universe might fall into disarray. We cannot punish you with death, as you will now be for all purposes immortal, but if you fall behind on too many tasks, you might be asked to do a term at the Nether Administration Department. Also, your choice of subdomain will decide the Godly Form you take on. Godly Forms serve as your physical manifestation, your embodiment. These forms affect the environment around you, so pick wisely if you plan to spend time in a specific realm, country, or plane of existence. No one wants to hang out with the Guy Who is On Fire All the Time during August in Rome, Italy. Each subdomain contains several specializations that you may select based on your interests. Now, choose wisely.
Subdomain of Disaster, Destruction, and Plague Are your mortals acting uppity? Nothing better to kickstart a new era of religious devotion like a good old-fashioned plague. As the Lesser Goddess of the Disaster, Destruction, and Plague department, you will be tasked with making sure piety is always at an all-time high. Potential skills include: [Acid Rain], [Frogs], [Livestock Plague], [Truck-sized Hail], and [Lice Infestation at Elementary School].
Subdomain of Dreams and Nightmares Every single night, the Nether is visited by an overwhelming number of tourists, so-called ¡°dreamers¡± that have zero respect for the environments they¡¯re visiting. Since dreamers don¡¯t actually *know* they¡¯re visiting, they tend to get quite distressed, and cause all manner of chaos for our permanent Nether residents. Your job is to scare these dreamers into wakefulness by transforming into terrifying eldritch horrors and chasing them around the void. Potential skills include: [Abomination Form], [Embody Bully from Second Grade], [Shapeshift into Parental Figures].
Subdomain of Undead Maintenance Necromancers are infamously lazy when it comes to releasing the souls of the dead after putting them to use. They take a soul from the Nether, plug it into a skeleton, put that skeleton to work, but after that? They just leave it to rot! It¡¯s an insult to sustainable soul recycling. As Lesser Goddess of the Undead Maintenance department, you will be in charge of making sure borrowed souls are returned home to the Nether, where they can rest for a bit before becoming someone¡¯s henchman. Potential skills include: [Soul Chain Repair VI], [...]
Momo sighed, skimming past another three domains that she had no interest in. As hard as this choice was, approaching it from a process of elimination made things easier.
Subdomain of Transition, Safe Passage, and Soul Reaping When a mortal dies, their soul chain remains attached to the body until it is claimed by a reaper. As the Lesser Goddess of Transition, Safe Passage, and Soul Reaping, you will ensure that no soul is left behind¡ªthat every chain is claimed as soon as the body perishes. You will be in charge of finding the most suitable replicant area for these souls to call home. And if none exists, creating one for them to feel safe and cared for. This can be a perilous job, as Nether Demons constantly haunt the passageways between worlds, so it is best to only take this job if you have battle-ready experience. Potential skills include: [Reap], [Pacify], [Create Replicant Area VI], [Circle of Death]
Momo¡¯s lip trembled, and she clutched the parchment. She couldn¡¯t think of a more important job than that one. Done right, it meant that she could ensure that every soul that passed on found the perfect place in the afterlife. She could create the Home for Undead Pets she¡¯d always wanted, fitted with unlimited fish bones and chew toys and New York skyscraper-sized cat towers. But just because it was important work didn¡¯t mean she was right for it. She thought doctors were important, and vets, and school cafeteria lunch ladies, but she hadn¡¯t been particularly interested in either of the three. She was too¡­ fragile for that kind of work. But maybe I¡¯m not so fragile anymore. She stared at the parchment for an hour more, eyes aching, before ultimately sleep snuck up on her, its gentle fingers lulling the paper out of her grip. The horses rode through the night until dawn, when the silhouette of Morganium finally bubbled up over the trees. Unbeknownst to Momo, a foreign figure watched as she entered, perched high on the city¡¯s obsidian gates. 264 – Molten Solar Cloud The air felt different in Morganium. She wasn¡¯t quite sure what it was. But there was a heaviness to it, a humidity. Everything seemed slower, more laborious: the skeletons dawdled in their work, taking longer breaks than usual to watch paint dry or to count their own fingers. The mortal civilians¡ªthe ones that were left, and hadn¡¯t been shipped off as temporary refugees¡ªseemed to tiredly whisper, not yell and cheer, when they saw her float through the city streets. Maybe it was because the sun was particularly hot that day. ¡°Momo.¡± Sumire¡¯s voice was breathy as she came running out of the tower entrance and toward the center of Morganium plaza where Momo stood. She looked ragged and exhausted, her hair tied up in a loose bun and her cloth armor unusually disheveled. Momo frowned in worry as the two connected in a hug, and she pressed her hand into Sumire¡¯s back protectively. ¡°What? What is it?¡± Sumire pulled back, and Momo gripped her arms, searching her imploringly. Her mind immediately went to the worst thing she could think of. ¡°Oh god, did Nia and Vivienne try and¡ª¡± ¡°No.¡± Sumire shook her head decisively. ¡°They¡¯ve been good. It¡¯s the¡ªgod¡ª¡± she wiped her upper brow, sweat dripping from it. ¡°It¡¯s this heat.¡± Momo¡¯s adrenaline promptly dissolved. ¡°The¡­ heat? Sumire, you look like the capital just got struck by a meteor, not a five degree increase in the thermostat.¡± Sumire glared at her, more frustrated than angry. ¡°You¡¯ll feel it soon. It feels normal at first, but then it settles in, and suddenly you¡¯re chugging water like there¡¯s no tomorrow.¡± As if to prove the point, she pulled a flask from her hip, and tipped it into her mouth. The water lightly sizzled on her lip. ¡°Vivienne thinks it¡¯s some kind of city-wide debuff,¡± she continued, licking the hot droplet away, ¡°But no one has access to the Ruler System except you.¡± Momo furrowed her eyebrows, and called to the system. A scroll of parchment floated down from above, and by the time it was in her hands, it felt hot to the touch, like it had been steamed just above a boiling pot of water. She was grateful to not have much feeling in her Nether-fingers anymore.
Morganium ¡ª Capital Control Rating: 99.2%
  • 99.2% from positive sentiment towards you
  • 0.8% from negative sentiment toward ongoing climate conditions
Active Effects
  • [Molten Solar Cloud] Area of Effect cast by deity Kyros. This effect will expire in 0-3-SPELL-ERROR-NO-EXPIRATION-DATE-J5GH2.
¡°Oh wow,¡± she muttered. ¡°Now that¡¯s just petty.¡± ¡°What is it?¡± Sumire asked impatiently. ¡°Kyros. He cast another area of effect on the city. Just like he did on all my holdings back when I was running the campaign trail. Only this time, it¡¯s explosive heat, not brainwashing.¡± Sumire sighed, closing her eyes as she digested the information. ¡°So it¡¯s exactly what Vivienne thought. Why would he do that right now, though? We¡¯ve been rebuilding for months. If he wanted to slow us down, or turn the populace against us, he could have done it much earlier, before we sent people over to Drachenheim and Mekna.¡± ¡°I think I might know why,¡± Momo said, biting her lip as her mind drifted to the scroll in her back pocket. ¡°Kezko¡¯s planned worked. I¡¯m¡­ able to ascend now.¡± Sumire¡¯s eyes snapped back open. She looked shocked, frozen, for a moment, before slowly raising her hands to grip around Momo¡¯s wrists. Momo watched as honey brown fingers floated through her Nether skin. ¡°You did it,¡± she said, and a laugh escaped her. She shook Momo like a stuffed animal. ¡°You jerk. You actually did it. By Nerida, I mean¡ªyou¡¯re going to be a goddess? I¡¯ve heard fairy tales about mortals banging deities, but I never expected to be living one.¡± Momo blushed and rolled her eyes. ¡°Stop it. You make it sound so gross.¡± Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. Sumire only plowed forward, a large grin painting her face. ¡°What¡¯s your goddess form going to look like, then? Please tell me you get to keep the horns,¡± she said, then laughed again. ¡°Wow. Dating a goddess. This must be some sort of personal lifetime achievement. If I ever reach Excalibur, I hope I get a class like [God-Kisser]. Maybe I can get some sort of stacked bonus effect each time we makeout.¡± Momo was nearly burning as hot as the sun when she bowed her head. ¡°Oh my god.¡± Sumire¡¯s teasing died down as she tightened her hold over Momo¡¯s wrist. ¡°Okay, I¡¯m done. Promise. In that case, of course that¡¯s why he¡¯s pulling this now. Kyros knows how big of a threat you are to him. He¡¯s probably doing everything in his capacity from the Nether to stop you from ascending.¡± It was true that deities were very limited in how much direct control they could exercise over mortals. They had plenty of indirect control¡ªinfluencing classes, skills, and pretty much anything attached to a system¡ªbut due to the way Morgana set things up, they couldn¡¯t retaliate with direct attacks against specific mortals without risking an all-out war from whichever god that mortal was representing. It was a lot of passive aggressive, proxy bullshit. All of which Momo had gotten very used to. It wouldn¡¯t be stopping her now. ¡°We¡¯ll have to relocate the remaining civilians,¡± Momo said, gazing back at the long winding pavement that she had come from, dotted with mostly shuttered businesses and a few remaining homes. ¡°That, and hire a bunch of water mages.¡± ¡°Already on it. I have some contacts in the sea scavengers who are happy to put up some self-filling wells and artificial waterfalls in exchange for a little gold from our treasury.¡± Momo smiled at her affectionately. She really would make the perfect queen. ¡°I told you, you don¡¯t need me.¡± Sumire frowned at that, the harsh sunlight painting her face in an ethereal light. ¡°Needing and wanting are two different things, Momo.¡± ¡ª ¡°Momo the Reaper, huh,¡± Nia hummed. ¡°Sounds silly.¡± Momo tore the parchment from her hands with a groan. ¡°I thought you¡¯d be nicer without the handcuffs.¡± ¡°I was never nice.¡± The unlikely pair of them sat in one of Morganium¡¯s last surviving taverns, a shoddy shack of a building with sunlight spilling through cracks in the ceiling. After Sumire and Momo took some time to catch up, Momo had decided, without much reason at all, to seek out her former trainer. They had met at the tavern an hour ago, and had downed about three beers since. ¡°You can be nice,¡± Momo mumbled into her glass. ¡°Sometimes.¡± The choice of venue for their conversation wasn¡¯t completely by accident. All the business¡¯s patrons were now skeletons, beer slopping from their steins through their empty chest cavities onto the floorboards. It was hardly a place to escape the heat, but the constant source of hydration made it good enough for Momo. That¡ªand, due to its mouthless patrons¡ªit was awfully quiet. The perfect place to drunkenly decide on life changing decisions. ¡°Never nice. Just truthful,¡± Nia corrected. ¡°Sometimes that truth is nice to hear, sometimes it¡¯s not. But don¡¯t go calling me something as patronizing as nice.¡± ¡°I know, I know,¡± Momo said, looking into the murky brim of her beer. ¡°Truthful. That''s why I want you to help me make this choice. I don¡¯t want to pick the convenient choice. I want to pick the right one.¡± Nia laughed darkly, stretching her now-free hands. After a long period of probation, Sumire had finally deemed her too much trouble to lock up, and removed the mana-depleters. ¡°Not sure why you came to me about picking the right choice,¡± she said, waving her hand to get the attention of the skeletal barkeep. ¡°I¡¯m the only person in this city that¡¯s still officially considered a prisoner of war. If you really wanted sound advice, you would have gone to Viv. No, you want something else¡ªthat¡¯s why you came to me. Now out with it.¡± The barkeep served up a cold daiquiri, and Nia downed it in one long sip. Momo frowned, because she was right. Her gut, not her head, had taken her to Nia. ¡°I don¡¯t want¡­¡± she started quietly. ¡°To kill Kyros.¡± Nia¡¯s glass paused at her lips, and she looked at Momo with an unusual curiosity. ¡°That¡¯s about the stupidest thing I¡¯ve ever heard anyone say,¡± she said, placing the cup down firmly on the bartop. ¡°Your buddy Valerica presents you with a perfect plan to destroy the guy who¡¯s made your existence here a living hell, and you¡¯re suddenly feeling merciful?¡± She held up a hand before Momo could respond. ¡°That was a stupid question. Of course you¡¯re feeling merciful. You¡¯re always feeling merciful,¡± she said bitterly. ¡°I would be dead, floating around the Nether without a thought in my beautiful head if you weren¡¯t. How lucky I would have been then. But no.¡± ¡°You seriously wish you were dead?¡± ¡°Of course not. Of course I don¡¯t. Because of you, I¡¯m no longer Sera¡¯s stupid little puppet. I get to hang out with my sister everyday. I teach knife skills to adorable little shitheads at the orphanage. My life has never been better. And that is deeply infuriating,¡± she grumbled. ¡°So mercy¡¯s great and all. But where does it get you with Kyros? If you don¡¯t want him dead, then what do you want?¡± Momo paused, her mind really mulling over the thought. ¡°For everyone to¡­ get along?¡± It even felt stupid leaving her mouth. She kept going before Nia could slap her. ¡°I want to find a way to end the war forever,¡± Momo said, nervously playing with her fingers. ¡°But I don¡¯t want to do it Valerica¡¯s way. If we do it Valerica¡¯s way, then Morgana ends this whole thing exactly as she started it. Alone. She literally created the other deities in order to be less lonely. To have friends. And sure, they¡¯re fighting right now, and maybe have been for the last few eons, but that doesn¡¯t mean she actually wants to murder them.¡± When Nia didn¡¯t interrupt, Momo felt emboldened to continue, taking a long breath in. ¡°I just¡ªI guess what I¡¯m saying is, I know what I want to do,¡± she stuttered. ¡°I want to solve this some other way, with reconciliation, not conniving plots. But I¡¯m¡­¡± ¡°Scared of losing the person who made you believe in yourself in the first place?¡± Momo swallowed thickly, and nodded. ¡°And you¡¯re coming to me because I did exactly that,¡± Nia muttered. ¡°And you want to know how it feels, now, on the other side of it.¡± Momo lowered her head in embarrassment, cheeks reddening. She quietly whispered ¡°yes.¡± Nia picked up her glass and examined it intently. The ice cubes inside wobbled in the water. ¡°I¡¯m not going to sugarcoat it for you,¡± she said. ¡°It¡¯s terrible. It felt like a part of me was being surgically removed when I finally let go of needing Sera¡¯s approval.¡± Momo¡¯s stomach churned. ¡°But.¡± Nia¡¯s voice hitched, and she set down her glass, turning to Momo. She took in a breath. ¡°The freedom I felt in the aftermath,¡± she said quietly. ¡°Has been nothing short of a miracle.¡± 265 – Light Reading If Momo was going to make such a life-altering decision as ascending to godhood, she knew she would have to make sacrifices in the process. Sacrifices like¡­ reading books. Non-fiction ones. On purpose. A great ordeal indeed. ¡°This way, your grace,¡± Viktor said, only the light of his torch visible as they meandered through the dark hallways below the city. ¡°I have emptied the library of all my students, as you requested. My skeletal librarians will remain to help you with your search for tomes.¡± ¡°Thank you, Viktor,¡± she said quietly, as two golden doors swung open before them. And¡ªoh. The library was brilliant. Brilliantly dark, that was. ¡°The chicken electricity lines still remain unrepaired this far underground, I fear,¡± Viktor said nervously, already taking his leave. ¡°But a candle will do just fine, I¡¯m sure. It¡¯s the right way to read books, the old fashioned way. Anyway, I have business to attend to, as an important man of my esteem often does. I will be on my way.¡± Momo shook her head as he dashed back toward the corridor, escaping responsibility. I should have known there¡¯d be a catch. Despite the fact that she could only see a few inches in front of her, even with her candle lit, the library was still brilliant nonetheless. Stacked pristinely on sky-high bookshelves, Viktor had amassed quite a collection of tomes on various subjects at his underground bunker-library, a place that had remained remarkably untouched during the Husk¡¯s ascent. But as expansive as the library was¡ªor as she assumed it to be, not that she could really see it¡ªthe type of book Momo was searching for wouldn¡¯t exactly be convenient to come by. Since very few mortals had ever been given the opportunity to ascend to godship, there weren¡¯t many how-to books on the subject. No Subdomains for Dummies, or Ascending to The Nether In 10 Easy Steps. However, many pious mortals throughout Aloisian history had, on occasion, forged cozy relationships with the Lesser Gods, and written down little tidbits about their interactions with them. Momo figured that reading these testimonies would give her hints about how the Lesser Gods operated, and what they looked like. Details that the courier had conveniently left out. It¡¯s not like I can just call Valerica up and ask her if this transformation will turn me into the literal personification of the grim reaper or not, so. Momo frowned. Not that she¡¯d tell me either way. So Momo resorted to reading. After inquiring the help of the librarians to navigate herself around, Momo sank into a velvety armchair in the corner of the room, placing her lit candle on the small end table beside her. The overall absence of light made her feel like a tiny speck of dust in a large sea of black, entrenched completely by pillars of oak and dusty pages. To most people, this gigantic, endlessly dark labyrinth of books would be something straight out of a nightmare. It was impossible to see, impossibly silent, and most of all, impossible to find your way out of. But Momo didn¡¯t mind. She always found herself lost and confused pretty much anywhere, even with a map, so a little dark made no difference. What was important was that it was cold. Even Jarva¡¯s godly sunrays couldn¡¯t pierce this deep into the city¡¯s sediment. She carefully opened the leatherbound book in her lap. Personal Testament of an Undead Maintainer It was a book written by a fellow named Aeron Veritus, which she thought was an unduly impressive name for a janitor. Then again, Momo wasn¡¯t much of a name for a queen of the undead, so she was in no place to cast judgements. The book detailed Aeron¡¯s ascension from regular school janitor, the kind that built outhouses and then quickly regretted it after he realized he had to maintain them, to janitor of the undead, which seemed a much more appealing job¡ªfar less bodily fluids. He was a pupil of Morgana, and was responsible for finding skeletons that seemed to be lacking masters, and knocking them on the head with a shovel until their soul flew back to the Nether. After he had done this a spectacular number of times, he began reporting to a lesser god who would reward him everytime he found a necromancer¡¯s unemployed cadaver. Veritus¡¯s testament mimicked exactly the description of the Subdomain of Undead Maintenance from Momo¡¯s courier. The assignment for this domain was simple and understandable: make sure the number of borrowed souls in Alois didn¡¯t exceed the number of ones being returned. It seemed like a very cushy subdomain indeed¡ªthe godly equivalent of a number-punching government job that didn¡¯t require activating too many brain cells. It didn¡¯t deal with much drama at all, it could even be worked remotely. She could probably perform all the necessary tasks of skeletal accounting from Sumire¡¯s apartment kitchen if she wanted to. The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. To sweeten the deal even further, Veritus mentioned that the lesser god he interacted with took the form of a regular human¡ªsure, one that looked and smelled like the dead¡ªbut that was nothing Momo couldn¡¯t repair with a little perfume. It seemed like a perfect job for Momo. And yet. She felt no¡­ spark. Goddamn it. She internally chastised herself. When had she ever concerned herself with feeling a spark for her work? If it wasn¡¯t for Valerica, Momo would have been completely content to choose something so perfectly lazy. But no. Now she was cursed with a desire to do more with herself than the bare minimum. She placed the book on the ground and groaned. She read several more personal accounts of mortals dealing with various lesser gods, and the more she read, the clearer the answer to one of her more pressing questions became: it appeared that over the course of many centuries, subdomains traded hands regularly between lesser gods. Mortals would describe a consistent physical appearance, but the personality of the god would differ frequently over time in the anecdotes she¡¯d read. Momo imagined this was much like a bunch of actors trading parts¡ªthe costume stayed the same, but the performance was undoubtedly different each time. So this likely meant that the subdomains she had been presented with were the only ones vacant at the moment. But it also meant she might be able to trade them later for others, or take on multiple at a time, allowing for the collection of many different powerful abilities. But this is all assumptions. Who knows how long I might be stuck with the one I choose now. So she kept reading. Despite finding many reports encountering the Lesser Gods of Undead Maintenance, of Disease, of Nightmares, and a variety of others, none of the mortals seemed to meet the one role she was most interested in. It was as if the Lesser God of Safe Passage operated completely without interaction, seen and heard by no one. The reaper was a complete enigma. An introvert¡¯s dream job. ¡°Excuse me,¡± Momo spoke, raising her hand. She flagged down the attention of one of the skeletal librarians, who shifted his head one hundred eighty degrees to look at her. ¡°I¡¯m looking for personal testimonies of people who have met the¡­ err¡­ grim reaper. Do you have any?¡± The skeleton stared at her for several seconds, processing. ¡°I can assemble all books written by dead authors, and all books involving death, although it will take several days, and require the dismantling of several bookcases. If that is what you wish¡ª¡± Momo blushed. ¡°Ah! No, no. Sorry. I meant that¡­ literally. Do you have any books of people who have met the literal grim reaper. Not metaphorically. The actual one.¡± ¡°The actual one?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± She nodded. ¡°The Lesser God of Safe Passage? The person that greets you when you die? At least, I assume that¡¯s how it goes. I haven¡¯t had the honor of actually dying yet. Or, well, I did, but it didn¡¯t last very long.¡± All thanks to a certain someone. The skeleton seemed stuck in a loop, staring at her blankly. She held up her hand. ¡°Nevermind, no worries¡­¡± Just as she was about to look back at her lap, blue light flashed from the skeleton¡¯s hands. Momo followed the trail of cerulean magic as it zipped back and forth through the library like a charge of serpentine electricity, illuminating the bookstacks as it traveled. Eventually, it paused, then skyrocketed upward like a ladder across a tall bookshelf before curling itself around a particular tome. ¡°I believe we have something of the sort,¡± the skeleton answered as the light darted back, the book coiled in it. ¡°I hope it suits your needs.¡± The blue streamer flashed into non-existence as the book planted itself at Momo¡¯s feet. He Who Strikes Fear: Encounters with Death Himself Eyes wide, Momo picked up the book. Unlike the others, which were handwritten diaries, this one was typed professionally on firm parchment. It seemed to be written by an academic, a member of the High Wizards Court that Viktor was always talking animatedly about¡ªit was an institute that predated Jarva¡¯s rule, a nonpartisan gathering of mages who sought to study the ins-and-outs of the Nether. Paging through it, she quickly realized it was not the tale of one single author, but an anthology of moments throughout the ages. Moments where a mortal managed to lay eyes on¡ªas one author describes¡ª¡±one of the most elusive deities in all of creation.¡± Unlike with the other gods, physical descriptions of the reaper were inconsistent at best. To some, it was an enormous raven. To others, it came to them as a tree with a thousand eyes. The disparities made Momo question if they were really encountering the same god at all. Even in a world with magic, people did still claim to see things they didn¡¯t. Mortal memory was fallible on every planet. Unless¡­ Does this god¡¯s form involve shapeshifting? It would make sense. If Death was supposed to be something hidden in plain sight, it would only make sense for the Lesser God¡¯s form to be something malleable. Something designed perfectly to fit the situation of the deceased, to make sure that they felt comfortable and relaxed as they passed. Only, that wasn¡¯t the reality reflected in the papers. Quite the contrary. These academic mages had not died themselves, obviously, but they had been at the site of someone else¡¯s death and had sufficient mana sight to witness the Lesser God come to claim the soul. And what they described was universally disconcerting. No, it was beyond that¡ªit made Momo¡¯s heart wrench. At the moment of death, creatures of The Dark become attracted to the soul, and immediately seek it out, clawing their way out of the Nether towards their ripe victim. The Reaper then shows himself soon after, following in hot pursuit, and slays these demons. The scene at the moment of death is an awful carnage, a hot and bloody thing. Momo frowned deeply. Those creatures of The Dark, as the mages put it¡ªthey had to be Nether Demons. The courier Momo had received had discussed that the Reaper had to have battle experience for that exact reason, to fend the demons off from the late soul. But she hadn¡¯t realized this was something the poor soul actually had to witness. To traumatize them like that at their last lively moment¡­ that was just awful. That¡¯s not how it should be. Adrenaline pumping through her, she snapped the book shut. She had read enough. Taking a deep breath in, she called over the librarian again, and gave him a tight smile. ¡°Thank you,¡± she said, lifting the pile of books up for him to claim. ¡°I think my research is complete.¡± ¡°Anytime, your highness.¡± 266 – Castle In The Sand In the days following her trip to the library, Momo prepared everything for her ascendance. The biggest matter of all was, of course, transferring queenship. It was a whole lot of paperwork, and involved quite a few speeches to the public; luckily, the recent destruction of the queendom meant that the public was largely out of town, so Momo only had to deliver her speeches to a few skeletons and a Mekna Gazette journalist, who did the rest of the work spreading it across the continent. ¡°And how long will it be until I see you again?¡± Sumire said, holding Momo¡¯s wrists and looking at her with preemptive annoyance. ¡°Days, months, my entire lifetime?¡± Momo laughed at her. ¡°Don¡¯t be silly. To you, it¡¯ll probably be seconds. Remember how it was last time? When I teleported out just as the Wraith Box fired? As far as I understand it, time in the Nether doesn¡¯t really correspond to time out here.¡± ¡°It better not,¡± Sumire said, softening at Momo¡¯s reassurance. ¡°I don¡¯t want to be an old lady by the time I see you again. I have plans for that new shapeshifting form you told me about.¡± Momo blushed the color of the sun, and Sumire just laughed, throwing her head back. Vivienne approached the pair of them, slinging her arm warmly around Sumire¡¯s shoulders. ¡°I promise,¡± Vivienne cut in, giving a wry look at the pirate. ¡°Your queendom is in safer hands than just hers, Momo.¡± Sumire shrugged her off. ¡°You wound me. I will run this place like a capable ship captain.¡± ¡°Run it into an iceberg, sure,¡± Vivienne teased. Momo beamed at them. It was hard to imagine these two being so chummy many months ago, but looking at them now, the perfect balance of organized chaos, Momo could imagine no other pair more capable to run her city. Their partnership looked nothing but comfortable and inevitable¡ªwith Vivienne balancing out Sumire¡¯s impulsivity, and Sumire taking charge when Vivienne found herself incapable of plowing forward. A partnership that would have never happened without Momo¡¯s ¡®insufferable forgiveness and tireless mercy,¡¯ as Nia would put it. A tiny flame of hope kindled in Momo¡¯s chest. She prayed that she could do the same for one goddess and her very dangerous cat. ¡ª In the middle of the endless desert, where the sun never set and no water ever ran, was a castle. Surrounded on all sides by the finest goldest granules of sand, and guarded by hundreds of men in suits of fine armor, the castle enjoyed its first visitor in many months. ¡°Your lordship. I return from Morganium with news.¡± Venice bowed before the throne, his eyes squinting. Even for a dokkaebi, accustomed as they are to going rapidly between various different biomes of existence, the eye-piercing sun was a heavy contrast to the usually polite darkness of the Nether. The jingle of a bell panged in front of him, followed by a hiss. As Venice¡¯s eyes adjusted to the brutal light, he made out the familiar form of a cat sitting on the throne, bones jagged and exposed, pawing at a bell-toy. The toy was held out to him by one of the cat¡¯s loyal guards, as a knight might offer his king a sword. Stolen story; please report. After a few continued minutes of pawing and hissing, the cat sighed. ¡°This bell tires me,¡± he said. ¡°Find me a new one.¡± ¡°Of course, Lord Kyros.¡± The knight bowed deeply, almost to the point of falling over, and shuffled off toward a warchest at the end of the room. The chest at first looked like something that might hold fancy weaponry or choice poisons, but quickly revealed itself to be stuffed with all manners of cat toys: fishing hooks with fake worms at the end, rattlers, light beam pointers. The knight bent down on the ground and fished slowly and carefully through them, as if his choice might just decide the fate of the world. And, well, given present company¡ªit just might have. Kyros straightened rigidly in his throne. It completely dwarfed him with its enormous size, making him seem like a chair accessory more than an all-powerful feline tyrant. ¡°Well, don¡¯t just stand there and stare,¡± he said tiredly to Venice. ¡°Is the girl dead yet? Did she succumb to my unwavering heatwave and finally wither away?¡± Venice gave the cat a tight smile. ¡°Unfortunately, your highness¡­ no. On the contrary, she is alive and well, and from the looks of it, she is planning to ascend any minute now.¡± The feline leaned forward sharply, his eyes opening wide. Two tiny suns existed in each of his eye sockets, and they burned Venice just to gaze at. ¡°Then why didn¡¯t you finish the job?¡± Venice¡¯s smile got even tighter. ¡°Sir, as I¡¯ve said, I cannot kill a fellow Nether dokkaebi. Even if her form has changed. It¡¯s one of the rules that Morgana introduced when she first created us.¡± Kyros hissed, his forked tongue protruding from his mouth. Tornados began sweeping the grounds outside the castle. Sand furiously whipped the walls. ¡°Morgana cowers in a corner of the Nether, powerless and weak, and yet she still continues to bind me,¡± he growled. ¡°I am the most powerful being in the universe, Venice. I should be able to put down a little girl.¡± ¡°Of course, your lordship.¡± ¡°No¡ªnot of course. I should be able to, yet I haven¡¯t been able to.¡± Kyros shimmered in the sunlight, and his body began to twist and expand. Bones cracked and muscle whined. His small feline ribcage became that of a human, of a man; his skull went from slender to full, the bones of his arms multiplied and grew. The skeleton of a cat became the skeleton of a man¡ªan undead man. A guard quickly came up behind him and dressed him in a regal robe of gold. The robe had a puffy white fur collar, and embroidered suns dancing all the way down its silk hem. Kryos shrugged it on with gruff impatience, and stood, towering over Venice and taking the dokkaebi by the collar of his shirt, hoisting him up. ¡°No matter how I shape and arrange myself,¡± he said coldly, practically spitting in Venice¡¯s grimacing face. ¡°No matter how many gods of the pantheon lay their loyalty down at my feet, I still feel utterly powerless. All because of an agreement I forged with that woman. All because of the rules I so naively agreed to. Rules that we would not harm mortals directly. Rules that we would let mortals settle mortal disputes. That we would serve as shepherds to these playthings, that we would require their piety and their attention, but nothing more.¡± Venice began to choke, but Kyros only leaned closer. ¡°You are so lucky, Venice, that I gave you this chance. That I invited you to my side,¡± he said. ¡°I could have had you ostracized for delivering that letter, just like I¡¯ve done to the rest of your kind. Instead, I saw an opportunity. That girl¡ªMomo¡ªshe will trust you now. When she arrives here, you will be first to greet her. You will discover what she knows. What she plans. I have not been able to kill her yet, no. But with your help, we will do worse than that.¡± ¡°Sir, if I may,¡± Venice interjected, voice hoarse. ¡°There are more drastic measures you could take on Alois. Actions to stop her from ascending at all. You could level Morganium with sandstorms, or perhaps compel one of the weather deities to create conditions for a famine in Aloysius¡ª¡± ¡°Silence.¡± The castle¡¯s walls shook with the power of an earthquake. Kyros dropped Venice, and he collapsed to the floor. The dokkaebi¡¯s hand flew to his chest, catching his breath. Even though there was no oxygen in the Nether, the body still operated on the assumption that there was¡ªin this between-place, perceived pain was just as real as the real thing. Kyros sank back into his throne, bony fingers wrapping around the arms of the chair. ¡°She has shown us that no matter what catastrophe I throw at her, she will persist. She will persist and¡ªbeyond that¡ªshe will take the pitiful hand I¡¯ve dealt her and turn it into a house of cards. I will not give her further ammunition to become more powerful. No.¡± He began to shrink back into his original form. As his hands receded, his talons clawed long, deep marks into the arms of his throne. ¡°She might have been protected by mortal law before¡­¡± The two suns in his eyes burned. ¡°But she enters my domain now.¡± 267 – Ascendance
[You have chosen the Subdomain of Transition, Safe Passage, and Soul Reaping]
[You will now ascend from your mortal body]
[Welcome to the God System, Momo Lim]
¡­ Ascendance, for whatever terrible reason, seemed to start in the stomach. And Momo was eternally glad she decided to finally choose her Lesser Goddess class in the quiet of her own bedroom, away from anyone and anything, because she threw up immediately. And what coated her bedroom floor was not her morning¡¯s breakfast, but pure, black, Nether. Almost as if she had swallowed it down the wrong pipe, and now¡ª ¡°Oh god,¡± Momo cried, covering her mouth. But she was already a goner. She threw up three more times before the fits ended, her vision blurry and her blood pumping like race cars inside of her veins. She was so grateful for the end of the nausea that the pain that then began to radiate throughout her entire body felt like nothing much in comparison. And it was not just pain, but chills, like she was a child again with a high fever. She hugged herself and took long breaths in and out, feeling as her teeth clenched and then chattered.
Praise be! You have acquired a new skill: [Death¡¯s Many Forms] Death¡¯s Many Forms: When in the presence of something dead or undead, you can take on another form. If only surrounded by the living, you will not be visible. Remaining skills will be acquired during Onboarding
She could faintly hear a courier rattling off in her ear as the pain began to slowly dissuade. She expected to feel herself soaked with sweat, but when she pressed her hands to her forehead, she felt a cold absence of¡­ anything at all. She furrowed her eyebrow and looked down at her lap, trying the same exercise of pressing her hand to her leg instead. To her surprise, it floated right through her, making contact with the floor instead. ¡°Ah,¡± she said, throat tightening. ¡°Cool. So I¡¯m a ghost now.¡± ¡°Meow.¡± Momo turned around to find Dusk looking tremendously confused. The cat pawed at her skin, but the paw went straight through Momo, just as her own hand had. It was an unnerving experience to feel something float through her like that¡ªshe felt like a pool that someone was swimming in. ¡°Dusk, stop it,¡± she said hoarsely, grabbing the cat¡¯s paw. To her surprise, she was able to grasp the paw. The moment she did, her hand became real again, firm and meaty and no longer shimmering in the light. It seemed that whenever she interacted with the physical world, her body would momentarily become tangible again. Seeable to the naked eye. But Kezko had warned her that doing so would drain her Mana significantly¡­ Momo¡¯s eyebrows shot up. Wait, am I¡­ am I using Mana? ¡°Mana status,¡± she said.
MP: 9,500 / 10,000 (500 currently in use while sustaining tangible form)
¡°Oh my god.¡± Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. She nearly hyperventilated with happiness. Had ascending cured her mana disease? Not only that, but dear god¡ªten thousand mana points? She had only had access to one thousand of them back when she was a mortal. God, what was she even thinking? Back when I was a mortal. That was ten seconds ago! Overcome with emotion, she tried the first spell that came to mind. ¡°[Polymorph ¨C Dokkaebi]¡±
ERROR! Polymorph skills do not work in conjunction with [Death¡¯s Many Forms]. Please use [Death¡¯s Many Forms] for all polymorphing and shapeshifting.
Momo¡¯s eyebrows lifted. That was the first time she ever got an error before, especially about her spells not being compatible with one another. But she supposed it made sense. The God System and the Class System weren¡¯t supposed to be connected. The System Administrators had made it very clear just how much work it¡¯s been to tie the two together to make them mutually intelligible. She made the courier give her a review of the [Death¡¯s Many Forms] skill, since she had been too deep in pain-jail to hear it properly. Interesting. According to the skill description, it seemed that as long as she was in the presence of something dead, she could change her form at will, but otherwise she would be intangible¡ªas in, effectively nonexistent to the mortal eye. ¡°Courier,¡± she asked, tapping her ear. ¡°What is the mana cost of this spell?¡±
[Death¡¯s Many Forms] has an upfront mana cost of 2,000 MP.
¡°And how much mana am I burning every second that I sustain a tangible form without using the skill, like I¡¯m doing right now with Dusk¡¯s paw?¡± She looked down at her hand, which was still grasped around Dusk. To the cat, all it saw was a magical, floating fist. That had to be disconcerting. Momo would be sure to feed her extra tuna later to make up for the trauma.
The cost of creating a tangible mortal form through pure mana is variable based on how much matter you are creating. Right now you are only creating two {human hands}, which costs a combined total of 500 mana points continuously while active.
Huh. Assuming it cost way more than 500 mana points to construct her entire body in space, it was definitely cheaper to use the skill. The only downside is that she would always have to be in the presence of something dead in order to do it. She didn¡¯t want to carry around a corpse every time she visited Sumire, so Dusk would just have to chaperone her. Of course, given that Dusk was here in front of her, there was no reason to be wasting so much mana. She closed her eyes, and tried to imagine herself. ¡°[Death¡¯s Many Forms].¡± She felt another stirring in her stomach and feared the worst, but it seemed the universe was smiling on her for once, because the disturbance passed just as quickly as it came. And when she opened her eyes, she found that she was looking down on pale hands once again¡ªbut both of them looked equally healthy, alive, real. ¡°Meow,¡± Dusk said again, beginning to purr in confusion as the cat wiggled its paw out of her hold and rubbed up against her side. Momo gave Dusk a good rub on the vertebrae and a promise of many snacks later before rising, stepping over the puddle of Nether in the middle of her room, and finding her mirror. When she made eye contact with her mirror image, she froze. Oh. Oh my god. A tear instantly tracked down her cheek. The girl she was looking at in the mirror was an entirely different Momo than the one she had gotten used to seeing there. This Momo was¡­ the old Momo. Gone were the horns, the wings, the blackened hands, the scars. She sniffled, more tears falling down her face. She hadn¡¯t expected ascension to make her feel so terribly human. Her hands threaded carefully, reverentially through her hair, now a deep brown, nearly-black, pin-straight but soft to the touch. It caressed her shoulders and framed her cheeks. It looked and felt so healthy. Even her cheeks had a warmth to them now, colored faintly pink instead of pale and dour. I guess when I imagined myself for the transformation¡­ I imagined the old me. The version of herself in her head had never caught up to the present. She brushed away her tears with the back of her hand, feeling silly. ¡°I can¡¯t wait to show Sumire this,¡± she whispered to herself. In fact, she wanted to show her right now. There was no reason to wait. She grabbed Dusk, and headed for the door. But just as she grabbed the handle, her hand sank through the door again. Her skin went from full to glittering. She felt a sensation as if she was being peeled away from reality. Momo groaned. ¡°Wait, wait, can¡¯t a girl just have five seconds to enjoy something¡ª¡±
[You are entering Lesser Goddess Onboarding]
268 – Lesser Goddess Onboarding ¡°Gnuh¡­¡± Momo¡¯s head radiated with pain as she finally came to. The last thing she remembered was reaching for her doorknob, eager to show Sumire a glimpse of her former self, when suddenly she felt as if the very fiber of her soul was being tugged at. Like a fish on a line, she was reeled upwards, or downwards¡ªshe wasn¡¯t quite sure¡ªbefore ultimately landing with a thud on the floor she found herself now. Several open, dusty tomes littered the ground in front of her. The books were covered in a sort of black soot, the same black soot that the entire floor was dusted with. She appeared to have been thrust into some grim library, not totally unlike the one Viktor had built underneath Morganium. Only this one was illuminated by floating orbs of white: little, bottle-sized spirit blobs that hovered like dust in the air. She pressed herself up with her arms, swaying upward into a standing position. As she did so, the white spirit orbs seemed to register her presence and began hurriedly moving away, as if startled. They rapidly congregated around an ancient lectern a few leagues away. All of the light in the room consequently surrounded that pedestal, illuminating it like a spotlight. ¡°Huh¡­?¡± she groaned, narrowing her eyes as she stepped toward it. ¡°Where am I?¡± A massive book lay atop the dusty pedestal, its cover bound in cracked leather and adorned with symbols that seemed to pulse with a life of their own. The white blobs didn¡¯t startle this time when she came to stand by it; instead, the spirits hovered around it, their whispers growing louder by the second, urging her to open the book. She pressed her fingertips to the side of its massive cover, and gently opened to the front page. A short passage written in elegant cursive was laid in the center of the page. [Welcome to Lesser Goddess Onboarding] [You must complete 3 godly trials in order to exit onboarding] [Additionally, you will have to read 0/50,000 required texts] [The proctor of your exam will be Valerica] The breath nearly left her chest. Valerica? My proctor? 50,000 required texts? She recalled Valerica mentioning a ridiculous number of onboarding books during her visit on the ship, but she had assumed it was an exaggeration. Could all the books littering the floor be required reading? It would take an eternity to go through them all. Time she didn¡¯t have. She had promised to return to Sumire within the century, after all. She sighed. As soon as she took a step back, the book started to vibrate violently. The symbols on the cover flared with blinding light, and the book abruptly shredded into pieces, sending fragments of parchment flying through the air. The spirits cried out, a sound like a chorus of sorrowful wails, and fled from her once again. Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. She turned her head to watch them trail between two towering bookcases and, with determined resolve, she stalked after them. They led her through a labyrinth of dark aisles, and Momo tried her best not to trip over books strewn across the floor as she paced. Finally, the spirits came to a stop, illuminating what appeared to be a tall stone wall. A dead end. She expected them to turn around and lead her down a different hallway, but they didn¡¯t. Instead, they began to drift closer to one another, slowly merging like molten wax, until they coalesced into a larger life form¡ªa human silhouette. Valerica¡¯s silhouette. She knew it just by the look of it. The height, the posture. The length of her nails. Though the form didn¡¯t have a mouth, or a nose, or any actual features¡ªit was just white light in the shape of a person¡ªMomo recognized her immediately. ¡°Hm, what¡¯s this?¡± Even without a mouth, Valerica¡¯s words spilled out of its nonexistent lips. Momo moved closer to her instinctually, like a freezing man to a bonfire. ¡°Momo? Is that really you? Why, that was much faster than I anticipated.¡± Valerica laughed. ¡°Oh, what am I saying. This is you we¡¯re talking about. You¡¯re always right on time.¡± The figure of white light reached a lithe hand out toward her, but when Momo tried to take it, the spirits fluttered away just out of her grasp. She knew it was an illusion, but a preemptive pang of hurt ran through her chest all the same. Rejection. Don¡¯t be ridiculous. She¡¯s happy to see you. Momo took a sharp breath in. ¡°Valerica, what is this place? Where are you? Is Morgana okay? Are you okay?¡± The figure froze, its hand floating back toward its chest. ¡°Oh, yes, yes. Everything is good. Well, no. It¡¯s terrible, really. But terrible is a transient state,¡± Valerica said, waving her hand through the air as if it was all a matter of semantics. ¡°All will be well now that you¡¯re here, my darling. Our saving grace, just as I always promised you to be. You did get my letter, yes?¡± Momo swallowed thickly. ¡°Yeah. I got it.¡± ¡°Phenomenal. Then you¡¯ve already been briefed. That¡¯s for the best, since the time I get to talk to you via this¡­ channel¡­ is limited. They do not want proctors helping you to cheat. The Nether Administrators are very rigid about that, as they are rigid about everything. Ah, yes, that reminds me, I¡¯m supposed to give you instructions about this whole charade.¡± ¡°Yes, please,¡± Momo said, feeling a wave of urgency wash over her as soon as Valerica mentioned that there was a time limit to their conversation. Valerica was not known for her conciseness, and this room didn¡¯t seem to offer much explanation on its own. So, Momo jumped to her most immediate concern. ¡°Do I seriously have to read fifty thousand books? There¡¯s no way around that?¡± Valerica laughed, and the maniacal sound unstuck some of the gummy fear in Momo¡¯s stomach, filling her with a pleasant warmth instead. ¡°Trust me, darling, if there was a way around the reading, I would have found it. But I believe you will notice that time passes¡­ differently¡­ here. Reading will not be such a chore as you imagine. In fact, the books will start to feel like old friends in such a lonesome space. I fear Morgana left much to the imagination with her training grounds.¡± The warmth in Momo¡¯s stomach quickly receded, replaced by a flood of dread. She had really been holding out for a loophole. ¡°And what about the trials?¡± she quickly interjected. ¡°What are those? How do I beat them?¡± ¡°Ah.¡± Valerica¡¯s tone picked up, becoming giddy. ¡°Now those are great fun. They took me quite a while to get in the habit of¡ªI suppose I died a few hundred times attempting them¡ªbut like the books, they will become old friends. They might even teach you something along the way. I suppose that¡¯s the point of all this.¡± ¡°You died? What?¡± ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry your gorgeous little head about it. I will have a wonderful time admiring your progress from afar. But as it appears we are rapidly running out of time, I will leave you with these parting words.¡± Valerica¡¯s ghostly figure leaned forward, and dropped into a whisper. ¡°Good luck, dear, and hold on tight to your sanity.¡± 269 – Quiet Little Walk Through Oblivion As soon as Valerica¡¯s mimic dissipated, Momo got to work seeking out these so-called Trials of the Dark Divine. After all, the prospect of being trapped in a dark, bleak library with nothing to do but read for the next eternity was about as appealing as pulling her own eyes out. So, after casting [Focus]¡ªwhich she was gleefully happy she could do again¡ªshe began to create a map of the library. Thankfully, there were a few books which seemed to be littered around the level for this exact purpose: blank notebooks with attached quills and ink. She grabbed one and settled down at a nearby table, its surface covered in a fine layer of dust. She started with sketching out the main room, the towering bookshelves and the labyrinthine corridors all beginning to take shape under her quill. It felt like she was back in art school on a field trip to a local museum, sitting on an uncomfortable fold-out chair and trying to find the horizon line amongst a hundred shuffling bodies. Only now those bodies were floating specks of white, sentient dust. Before she knew it, she was sketching as she walked, frenetically scribbling details down every time she turned a new corner. She marked each section of the building meticulously: the central hall, where the massive book had been, the narrow aisles lined with ancient tomes, the shadowy corners where the spirits had led her¡ªall of it went on the map. She noted landmarks that could serve as reference points: a twisted, blackened staircase that seemed to go infinitely upward, a row of windows that looked out into a void of swirling mist, and a peculiar statue of a hooded figure holding a lantern. All of a sudden, a book jumped off the shelf, and landed squarely on top of her map. It sped through a flurry of pages before landing on one in particular. She recognized that familiar font immediately. This was a courier in disguise. Congratulations! You have gained a level in Artist¡ª ERROR! You can no longer gain levels in the mortal Class System Searching for a solution¡­ Solution found: Merge Artist class with God System Note from System Administrators: STOP MAKING US INVENT NEW SYSTEMS. ¡­ Praise be! You have taken on the godly passtime of [A¡¯art.] A¡¯art: A¡¯art, etymologically and historically, is the predecessor to the mortal fine arts. Before humans got crafty with oils and brushes, Morgana and her lot were messing around with time and space itself, making origami out of black holes and embroidering seat cushions out of soul chains. You have gained the skill [Nether Origami]: Nether Origami: Fold infinite spaces into real dimensions The book slapped closed, and hoisted itself back onto the shelf. She just stared after it. What an unbelievably strange ability. She sighed. Who knew I should have been studying quantum mechanics instead of the sword. The idea of folding space seemed incredibly odd at first, but after taking a few moments to consider it, its usefulness dawned on Momo. That kind of skill would have surely come in handy in Mordecai¡¯s domain. His ability to elongate space seemed to be completely inverse to this one; he was able to expand real space into the infinite, like unrolling a carpet that just kept going and going. With this, she could roll that carpet right back up. Gah. What a strange thing to visualize. Momo¡¯s head was starting to hurt. Seeing no use pushing beyond her limits, she curled up on a pile of desecrated books, and she took a nap. Or a¡­ sleep. She wasn¡¯t sure. The lighting never changed in this place. The same old flickering purple torches just kept on flickering. The swirling mist outside continued to ¡­ swirl. Everything was in permanent stasis, and that thought alone made her even more tired. No. She pulled harshly at her own hair, peeling herself away from the comforting embrace of the stone floor. Valerica had left her with those last warning words for a reason. Hold on tight to your sanity. Tight was not nearly a strong enough suggestion¡ªMomo would need to put her conscious mind into a stranglehold. Because this place was obviously designed to make doing anything at all feel pointless. Why it was designed that way, she had no idea. Wouldn¡¯t Morgana want her lesser goddesses to be inspired, excited, invigorated? Not pounded to death with sad monotony. As she contemplated that question, her eyes drifted to the staircase not so far away. It was the obsidian spiral staircase she had noted as one of the key landmarks on her map. When she had tried walking up it the first time, things had just gotten progressively darker and darker, until the point where she couldn¡¯t see, feel, or hear at all. Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. Walking in the dark was one thing, but wading through complete oblivion? No thanks. Terrifying. Given the terribleness of the whole ordeal, she assumed it naturally had to be one of the trials. A problem that required godly intuition to solve. But her mind drew only blanks. It had all just felt so terribly¡­ Infinite. Momo¡¯s eyebrows slowly rose. Cha-ching. ¡ª On second thought, why had she wanted to become a god so badly in the first place? Valerica wasn¡¯t nearly grateful enough for what Momo put herself through to help her. That was something she¡¯d tell her just as soon as she made it out of this stairwell. ¡°Hello?¡± Momo shouted into the endless abyss. There was no echo. She had felt very brave for a moment climbing all the way up here¡ªabout three stories, by her estimates¡ªuntil the stairs completely faded out of visible existence, and her hands went cold, and silence enveloped her. But now that she was surrounded by nothing but void, her confidence deflated like a shriveled balloon. Because, well¡­ she had never tried to shrink an infinite space before. She doubted it was as simple as downsizing a large t-shirt in the dryer. What if she accidentally got caught up in it? Folded like a bedsheet until she was nothing more than one of those floaty white pieces of spirit dust? Oh, gods¡ªcould that be it? Were those spirit particles just lesser gods who had given up and failed the test? Forever destined to haunt these dreadful walls? Her chest heaved up and down. She laid a hand over it, and breathed. It¡¯s okay. The spell will work. And if it doesn¡¯t, you can¡¯t really die in here, anyway. She raised her trembling hands upward. ¡°[Nether Origami]!¡± As the spell departed her lips, she was overcome with the sensation that she was suddenly reeling something in, like a fishing rod had been placed in her jittering grasp, and the void around her was a massive fish caught on the tiny, flailing worm that was her willpower. With a cosmic crunch, the swirling black plane around her went concave. It then pressed inward with a terrible screeching noise, as if she was trying to force closed a rusted beach chair. But as the void curved around Momo, she could begin to see a horizon line¡ªjust like she had searched for so many times in her paintings¡ªand just past that line was another set of stairs in the far distance, hurtling toward her at lightning speed through the darkness. She cried, closing her eyes and clapping her hands over her ears. But eventually, the screeching died down, and she apprehensively squinted into the darkness. Only to find a door waiting in front of her. It was old, aged oak with two handles. In disbelief, she looked behind her, and saw the familiar opening to the ground floor where she¡¯d begun. She had done it. It was as if an infinity had accidentally snuck in somewhere between the staircase and the door, and now Momo had stapled it shut. Swallowing down, she pressed her weight into the door. It opened with a long creak. And blinding light flooded her vision. Dungeon of the Dark Divine Level 2 Breached Trial Complete: The Endless Staircase Trial 1 / 3 Complete Objective failed: Read required texts She grimaced, a headache forming as her eyes adjusted. At first, she was excited that she had entered some place with sunlight¡ªbut those hopes were quickly dashed as she realized the light that was blinding her was not natural light at all. It came from a lantern, one that someone was swaying very obnoxiously in front of her face. ¡°Oh Momo, you are as entrepreneurial as ever.¡± Momo¡¯s heart thundered to hear Valerica¡¯s voice again. Valerica withdrew the lantern with a laugh. She was unfortunately still not Momo¡¯s Valerica. She was still embodied by the same little light spirits. But hearing her voice¡ªseeing the general sadistic shape of her¡ªwas enough. Momo breathed out a long sigh, letting all the anxiety pass through her. ¡°Hi, Valerica,¡± Momo mumbled, before adding, with much pent-up frustration. ¡°What the hell kind of trial was that? I thought I was about to be sucked up into¡­ nothingness. It was horrible.¡± As usual, Momo¡¯s frustration failed to make a single dent on Valerica¡¯s exuberance. ¡°That, my dear, was the Endless Staircase,¡± she said unhelpfully, giving Momo a thumbs up. ¡°Well done! Usually most people do all the required reading first before even noticing the staircase, but not you, evidently. You just¡­ steamrolled right through.¡± Momo frowned at her in confusion. ¡°Only because I received that very helpful skill from my Artist class first. I don¡¯t get how anyone else could even solved that trial without it. The staircase just led to complete oblivion.¡± Valerica laughed. ¡°Oh, dear. You¡¯re so creative. No one else in the history of the universe chose to solve the test like you did.¡± She paused, pursing her lips. ¡°I suppose since you¡¯ve already completed the trial, I can actually show you how it was supposed to be solved. Here. Let¡¯s compare notes.¡± She snapped her fingers, and an old-fashioned projector fell from the ceiling, clattering to the floor. This room was much smaller than the one downstairs, just a stone cell with four walls, like some kind of underground bunker, so it was the perfect place to project a video. When Valerica pressed a button on the projector, light streamed onto the wall facing away from them, and a grainy video began to play. The video was recorded like a low-budget true crime documentary, and it followed Valerica from an over the shoulder perspective as she walked through the library on the first floor. ¡°This is footage from my own onboarding,¡± Valerica added, pointing at the screen with her flickering finger. ¡°As you can see, I had already finished my reading.¡± What she was pointing at was a giant pile of flaming books. Every single tome in the library had been flung into one giant pile, and torched, leaving the bookshelves bare. ¡°You must have¡­ enjoyed the reading,¡± Momo mumbled. In the video, Momo watched as Valerica walked by a bookshelf with a gleaming golden lever attached to it. She hadn¡¯t noticed that anywhere down on the first floor. ¡°That lever.¡± Momo¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°I didn¡¯t see it when I was doing my map making.¡± ¡°Well that¡¯s because it only appears once you¡¯ve finished your required reading. And you didn¡¯t touch the books, so¡­ ¡± Momo frowned. That, she did not. ¡°So what does it do?¡± ¡°It makes the door to this level automatically spawn at the end of the first set of stairs. It¡¯s the main way you complete the first trial, a cheat-code for anyone who puts in the effort to actually read all of the required material before proceeding. Sera found it very easily.¡± Momo¡¯s frown deepened. Of course there was a cheat-lever. Then again, she couldn''t be that mad¡ªshe had managed to get around the reading, after all. That was a ginormous win. Something in the video grabbed her attention. The Valerica in the footage had waltzed right by the very obvious lever and toward the stairwell, and was now ascending the stairs into the void. She had done all the reading, and yet still completely ignored the cheat-code. ¡°Wait,¡± Momo interjected. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you pull the lever?¡± Valerica turned to her in confusion. ¡°Why would I ever say no to a quiet little walk through oblivion?¡± 270 – The Way That You Are Now that she had completed her first trial, the System allowed Valerica to stay with Momo a minute longer, most likely to allow for more instruction. Naturally, Valerica did not care much for instruction¡ªand instead took Momo¡¯s hand as they walked through this new floor. ¡°Do mind yourself when passing by certain wall adornments,¡± Valerica said, bringing their shared hands upward to point at the array of slicing axes to be found down a nearby corridor. Momo grimaced. What a charming second level this was. After the projector had finished playing the film, the walls around them had collapsed like a cardboard box, revealing a much larger and wider venue. It was still much like a dungeon, with low ceilings, torchlight, and several dark corridors, but it had more amenities. For example, across from the hallway with the slicing axes, was a perfectly nice bed. ¡°I had that one included especially for you,¡± Valerica said of the bed. ¡°I know how you like your naps.¡± Momo shook her head. That was adorably thoughtful. It felt spectacularly unusual to hold Valerica¡¯s hand like this, given she was holding not a human being, but a bunch of tensed-up particles of light, but still it felt ¡­ nice. Comforting. Unfortunately, within that comfort, dread was awaiting. Dread about what she¡¯d discussed with Nia just before she¡¯d left. Dread completely separate from the trials. ¡°Valerica,¡± she asked as they passed another corridor in their tour about the level. ¡°When I leave this place¡­ when I graduate from onboarding¡­¡± She took a slow breath in. ¡°Where do I find you? And please don¡¯t say something like this, there, everywhere¨C¡± ¡°This, there, every¨C¡± Valerica paused, and scoffed loudly at her. ¡°By Morgana, how did you know I would say that?¡± ¡°You¡¯re highly predictable.¡± ¡°I am most definitely not.¡± ¡°Okay,¡± Momo snorted. ¡°Maybe you¡¯re not predictable. But I know you well enough by now to predict your unpredictability.¡± ¡°That¡¯s hardly better,¡± Valerica said, disconnecting their hands and crossing her arms. ¡°This kind of allegation does horrible things to a woman¡¯s reputation.¡± ¡°Your reputation for being¡­¡± ¡°A beautiful, unknowable enigma, of course. One that inspires terror in the dreams of the populace. That¡¯s my role as Lesser Goddess of Nightmares, after all.¡± Momo balked at her. ¡°Is that your role now?¡± Valerica shrugged. ¡°One of many. Someone has to get things done around here. With Morgana in her depressive episode, and Sera sequestered in the darkest reaches of space doing only god knows, the responsibilities have been left for me and Azrael to split. It was a lucky break for us that you decided to take on Reaping. I just about broke those poor humans¡¯ brains back on Earth when I shapeshifted into a monkey on live television.¡± Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. A silent moment passed, and then they both broke down in laughter. Momo almost wept with how hard she laughed¡ªimagining the sight of Valerica the monkey being played and analyzed on everything from Fox to the BBC. Valerica would have a fixture on every conspiracy theory forum for the end of time with that kind of stunt. ¡°But seriously,¡± Momo said, after their laughter had quieted again into a silent stroll. ¡°When I leave here. Where do I go to find you?¡± Valerica slouched onto the single bed, pressing both glowing hands firmly into the mattress before staring up at the ceiling and sighing. ¡°It will be difficult for you to find. The Nether Demons only grow in their numbers, so me and Morgana have had to travel farther and farther away from the center of it all. We currently take refuge in a place called Vacant Edge. It will be hard to find by simply walking idly around the Netherial abyss, but luckily, there is a trick to getting around the Nether¡ª¡± Valerica¡¯s glowing head exploded. Momo shrieked. After a few terribly long seconds, the particles re-assembled themselves, reforming Valerica¡¯s face. Momo did not breathe the entire time, watching in shocked horror. ¡°Those administrators are beyond petty,¡± Valerica growled as her hands reached up to adjust the particles of her head. ¡°It appears I was just about to spoil one of the trials for you, so they decided to stop me by¨C well¨C you saw the ordeal.¡± ¡°Yes.¡± Momo said hoarsely. All blood¡ªand humor¡ªhad drained from her body. ¡°I did see.¡± Valerica shook her head. ¡°I suppose either way, that was their warning to me that I must wrap this up. But don¡¯t worry, I will see you again soon¡ªjust as soon as you finish that next trial.¡± Valerica paused, then lowered her voice mischievously. ¡°Although I suppose it does not matter when you see me, if you can so easily conjure my predictable voice in your head.¡± Momo blushed, lowering her head. She almost wrote the accusation off with a simple laugh, but something inside her prevented her from doing so. She knew Valerica wasn¡¯t offended, per se¡ªit took a lot more to dent the world¡¯s biggest ego¡ªbut it felt irresponsible to give her the wrong impression. Not when she was so much more than that. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to offend you when I called you predictable, it¡¯s just¡­¡± Momo trailed off, an embarrassed flush coloring her face. ¡°It¡¯s comforting to me. The way you are. That you are so reliably yourself in every situation. Even in this mess with Morgana and Sera and Kyros, which to anyone else would be catastrophic, you¡¯re still so¡­ unwavering.¡± Momo smiled a small smile, her stomach knitting in knots. She whispered her next words. ¡°But since you are this way¡ª so static and dependable, insistent on never showing me your fear, even if you surely must be at least a little scared, deep down¡ª that I know if I ever need your advice, even when you¡¯re far away, I can just call on my imagination to tell me what you¡¯d say, line for line, word for word. As if you were standing right beside me.¡± She wiped at her eyes, feeling embarrassed at the confession. But it was how she felt. And she wasn¡¯t sure when she¡¯d get to say it again. Valerica hesitated for a bare moment. Momo couldn¡¯t see her expression, but she could feel a warmth radiate from her figure. Her glowing hands reached out to caress Momo¡¯s forearm. ¡°You¡¯ve put me in a very unusual circumstance, darling. I find myself at a loss for words.¡± Momo laughed, teary-eyed. ¡°Well, now you know how I always feel.¡± ¡°Not always. Not anymore. That shell has long cracked. You have enough lovely words inside you now to put to rest a war if you so wanted, dear. That much is clear to me.¡± As those words left her, the bulbs of light making up Valerica¡¯s figure began to slowly dissipate. Feeling herself leaving, Valerica blew her a kiss into the dark. Momo stood there and watched until the final particle had drifted somewhere else¨C Valerica¡¯s final words spinning in her mind. 271 – Large Tardigrade Momo would not cry. That is what she told herself as she willed Valerica out of her mind completely, shooting arrows at each miserable, self-pitying thought that deigned to seed itself again. Because what business did she have crying? If anything, that exchange should have given her hope. It was Valerica herself who had suggested putting out the flame of war with a little conversation¡ªso maybe she was serious about it? Maybe Momo wouldn¡¯t ever have to go against her wishes at all, and their imperfectly perfect relationship would be roses and lilies for the rest of time. Momo frowned. Right. Because that seemed likely. Still¡ªit did not matter yet. It could, for all she knew, not matter for years, if she couldn¡¯t get past the rest of these trials. The first one had been a lucky break. She stood in front of the Axe Hallway, as she had decidedly named it. It was a skinny corridor with swinging axes all the way down. Swooshing-death for as far as the eye could see. There were other corridors in this floor of the dungeon too, but they seemed to lead her in circles. No matter how far she walked down one, she¡¯d reappear in the central room, in front of that stupid little bed. Sometimes she¡¯d take a nap out of pure exasperation. ¡°Okay, axes,¡± she said, rolling up her sleeves. ¡°I¡¯m¡­ I¡¯m coming in.¡± She took in a breath, steeled herself, and then¡­ did not move. Because inside of her was, if you could believe it, a self-preservation instinct. Even still. The axes were moving very quickly. Her reflexes had gotten swift, especially since her Nether Dokkaebi upgrade, but she was not sure they were swift enough to avoid axes which were only a few inches apart, barely enough room for her body to stand between them. But this clearly was the trial, so there had to be a solution for it. And given that there were no books to read¡ªshe had checked under the pillow and inside the bedrame¡ªthat meant there was no secret golden lever waiting to be pulled. Her first instinct was to check if the corridor was infinite. Because if it was, her new [Nether Origami] skill would shorten it enough that even if she did get slashed, she may only get slashed once, and then she¡¯d be done with the whole thing. Valerica would be waiting on the other side with a health potion and some inspiring words. What was she even saying? When had Valerica ever given her a health potion? The most the woman had given her was food poisoning. Regardless, Momo stuck her hand upward, curling her fingers. ¡°[Nether Origami].¡± She heard a faint brr-brr error sound play in her head, as if she had just tried to recycle a computer file that was still open. So. Clearly not infinite. Did she have any spells to slow down time? That would help. The axes would swing slowly enough that she could weave around them. But no. Nothing came to mind. However¡­ She did have [Nether Displacement], which allowed her to push her body through obstacles like a trespassing ghost. She brightened. That seemed perfect for this. Plus, time was so slow in the Nether, she wouldn¡¯t have to worry about its effects dwindling before she was out of the corridor. She remembered that fact from her previous time here with Clone Momo¡ªthe clone¡¯s timer was only ten minutes on Alois, but in the Nether, she seemed to be able to exist indefinitely. This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. ¡°[Nether Displacement].¡± She watched her hand morph in the torchlight, her fingers leaving the tangible world behind and entering the ethereal. As an experiment, she pressed them against the cold stone wall of the dungeon. She prepared for her hand to sink through the surface, but instead¡­ NETHER DISPLACEMENT SPELLS FORBIDDEN IN THIS ZONE YOU CANNOT LEAVE THE DUNGEON¡ª ¡ªI MEAN, ONBOARDING AREA Momo glared at the wall of text that had suddenly engraved itself on the stone. ¡°That does not seem fair,¡± she muttered. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t I be able to use all the tools at my disposal to solve these trials? Isn¡¯t that like¡ª the whole point?¡± THAT IS NOT THE POINT. THE POINT IS TO BE WHO YOU ARE NOW, NOT WHO YOU WERE BEFORE. Momo took at least fifteen minutes to try and make sense of that riddle. She failed. In fact, her intelligence suffered a few points in the process. After another needed nap, and several anxious laps around the room, another idea finally struck her. Who she was now, as the wall had proclaimed so insistently, was a goddess. A goddess who was not confined to the skillset of Momo the Mortal. Momo the Goddess¡ªwhile limited so far to only two novel abilities¡ªhad so far only put one of those two abilities to use. She had completely ignored what was possibly the most versatile skill of all. Her shapeshifting skill. Death¡¯s Many Forms. Only, she had to be around something dead to use it¡ªand there was nothing here but a bunch of walls and a hunk of well-dressed wood Valerica had dared to call a bed. Unless¡­ ¡°Biscuit,¡± Momo gasped. She had completely forgotten about the tiny creature. Again. ¡°Are you still¡­¡± She looked down at her chest, wishing she could see through it. ¡°There?¡± She supposed there was only one good way to find out. Two birds, one stone. But first, it was best if she decided just what form she wanted to take on¡ªwhat would allow her to most easily get through a narrow hallway where giant axes were flying back and forth from either side? Narrowly she eyed the axes, and realized that they didn¡¯t quite touch the floor. In fact, they swung a good two inches above it, even at their lowest point. There were plenty of creatures that could fit under that. But there was also the matter of the walls of fire that seemed to illuminate further down the corridor. She could be something like a lizard, but lizards weren¡¯t exactly fireproof. What was a creature that was both small and fireproof? God, did a fireproof creature even exist in the first place? She supposed she didn¡¯t specifically have to morph into a creature¡ªany old form would do, but she¡¯d have to be able to conceptualize herself as that thing in order for it to work, so she was limited by the extent of her imagination. What about¡ªa fireproof lizard? Potentially genius. Except, when she tried to imagine a fireproof lizard, her brain only managed to concoct the image of a¡­ red lizard. Essentially¡­ Radu. And Radu was not fireproof. Or was he? She couldn¡¯t be certain. She also didn¡¯t really want to turn into Radu. That felt like crossing a boundary. So, bottomline: she had no idea what actually went into making something fireproof, and that was problematic. She could try and turn into a firefighter, but then¡ª firemen were not axe-proof. So once again: square one. She squinted painfully and tried her best to remember anything useful from highschool biology. Visualizing her old textbook in her head, the perfect candidate hit her like a ton of bricks. The tardigrade. She remembered reading about the little, near-indestructible water bears. They had caught her attention not for any scientific reason, but just because their shape was so adorable¡ª their tiny claws poking out of their heavily wrinkled legs. She could recall the image of them perfectly. All she¡¯d have to do was size them up a bit in her brain¡ª make them about two inches tall, instead of microscopic, able to walk on land, and¡­ ¡°[Death¡¯s Many Forms],¡± she whispered. The Reaping Has Begun! Target: Biscuit Entering Form: ¡­Large Tardigrade Her body began to rapidly constrict, downsizing like she¡¯d been hit by a shrink ray. Wrinkles sprouted along her hands, and her fingers turned remarkably sharp. In only a matter of seconds, she was viewing the dungeon from an entirely new perspective¡ªher bed loomed as large as an iceberg, the axes swung like skyscrapers above her, carving through the air far above her. So far that they didn¡¯t seem worrisome at all. So with a large breath in, or as large as a tardigrade could manage, she began to walk. 272 – Negligence, Apathy, Misfortune The tardigrade had been an excellent choice. She ambled through the swinging blades like they were nothing more than strange furniture, and she felt only a slight numbing sensation from the torrents of flame. Tardigrades were truly top-class tanks. As she passed through the last flaming barrier, feeling rather proud of herself for her tardigrade-style ingenuity, she suddenly found that her feet had nowhere to perch themselves. Looking down, all her breath left her body as she saw her stubby appendages sway over the edge of a cliffside. She heaved all of her meager body weight backward. ¡°What the hell!¡± she murmured, but her tiny, shocked body couldn¡¯t even produce the sound. Her hallway had come to an abrupt and shocking end, and in the space beyond her was a giant chasm. In the middle of that chasm was a platform, wide, stone, and circular. Slowly she morphed herself back into her original dimensions, and watched as the platform beneath her shrunk further until it was barely a platform at all¡ªjust a ridge that was barely the width of her feet. She pressed herself up to the wall behind her so she wouldn¡¯t fall, gripping it tightly with her fingers. ¡°I thought trials were supposed to have a little bit of space between them!¡± Momo shouted at the abyss. She didn¡¯t know who she was talking to, only that she wanted them to hear it. ¡°You know, a little bit of reprieve between invitations to certain death!¡± Only silence greeted her. She grumbled. Well, not only silence¡ªa moment later, a piece of parchment materialized in the air, and floated above the chasm casually. She had to lean dangerously forward in order to make out the small text. Dungeon of the Dark Divine Level 3 Breached Trial Complete: Axes of Fire Trial 2 / 3 Complete Objective failed: Endure unending pain and suffering ¡°What kind of objective is that?¡± she muttered, exasperated. Pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration, she added, ¡°Also¡ª Mr. Courier¡ª if you can take this feedback to whoever is managing this whole experience¡ª I do not understand the point of these trials. A long walk through a dark void? Another walk through¡­ axes and fire? And now¡ª what even is this? What does any of this have to do with being a goddess?¡± In response to her tirade she received¡­ more silence. It felt almost patronizing. She gazed upward, hoping to find some sort of watching camera to yell at¡ªsomething like the recording device that had obviously been keeping tabs on Valerica. But the ceiling was nonexistent. It extended upward into a black night sky, with shining white stars. ¡°Well. At least I¡¯m outside now,¡± she mumbled. She had started in the dungeon¡¯s basement, and now she was on its¡­ rooftop? Maybe. Maybe not. Either way, it felt like progress. The courier did at least do her the favor of eventually timing out and disappearing, so she could once again glance at the vast, terrifying chasm. Eyeing the scary depth of it, she remembered the tall mountains of Wyrmeridge. How scared she had felt to fight something with only a sword and her wings. With no real power behind her. Her eyes widened. My wings. She looked to each side of her, and found that her black feathers were gone. Then again, her hair was also still black, and when she ran her hands gently across her hair, her horns were missing, too. So it seemed she was still stuck in that original Momo form¡ª the one that she had imagined herself to be the moment before she ascended here. Momo shook her head, smiling slightly. This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. The fact that it was that Momo¡ªthe earthly, terrified, couldn¡¯t even leave her dorm room Momo¡ªthat was facing all these trials¡­ gave her a soft feeling in her chest. She would do this for her. She would achieve the pinnacle that a person could¡ª for her. Success was only a chasm away, after all. ¡°[Death¡¯s Many Forms].¡± The Reaping Has Begun! Target: Biscuit Entering Form: Raven Seeing that she only needed to cross a distance, she figured any bird would do the job. As the spell worked its magic, her mouth became quite beak-ly, and her arms sprouted familiar feathers. No matter how many times she polymorphed, the sensation never got less strange¡ªit was like being at the doctor¡¯s office when they used that tiny hammer on your knee, and your leg popped up involuntarily. Only with the polymorphing spell, her entire body responded like that leg¡ªfingers and arms and toes seizing into action, nerves jumping without her control. Even though she had been the one to cast the spell, she could not direct any variable of the transformation. She could only let it wash over her, hoping that the grotesque process would end as soon as possible. And soon enough, it did. She squawked experimentally, and when the cry sounded bird-like enough, she took off. Her flight around the circular room was swift. This place was not infinite, just rather large. She took her time observing the stone platform from above before landing on it¡ª but from all angles, it looked just about the same. Big and circular, jutting out like a stone toothpick from the blackness of the dark chasm. The only intriguing thing about it was a soft white circle painted in the middle of the platform, seemingly about the size of her human body. She frowned down at it. This feels too¡­ simple. The first trial hypothetically involved a lot of reading, and if that courier message was anything to go by, the second trial apparently was supposed to be a brute force type of thing about enduring pain¡ªwhich I thankfully opted out of¡ªbut this? This was just a large shadowy room with a circle in the middle of it. Bemused, she tried a cursory attempt to get beyond the barriers of the room. She reasoned that if she could see the sky, then she must be able to scale the walls somehow. And when she reached the top of the stone wall, it did indeed end, but¡­ beyond it was just more void. Like an astronaut in the middle of space, she had no interest in traversing complete blackness. So, seeing no other route, she flattened her wings and sailed toward the platform. When she landed, she tumbled out of her raven form, and approached the white circle in the center. Up close, she could see that it was drawn in chalk¡ªthe lines were imperfect and scratchy, and a small piece of¡­ writing? ¡­ had been etched into the center of it. Borne of negligence. Apathy. And Misfortune. Momo stared, dumbstruck, at the note. She knew immediately where she¡¯d heard that before. The origin of the Nether Demons. That was the recipe to construct one¡ªnegligence, apathy, misfortune. Bottle those fun little feelings up, give them a shake, and then¡­ Momo¡¯s stomach dropped. Her fingers tightened into fists. Had that¡­ been the point of all this? The overarching¡­ theme? Each one of the dungeon¡¯s trials had certainly involved a great deal of all three. But why the hell would Morgana build a dungeon to¡ª to breed these kinds of demons? And why would it be the onboarding that a mortal would have to do to become a god? None of that made any remote amount of sense. She had to still be missing something. Something very crucial. Swallowing, she saw no other course of action but to trigger the circle. So she carefully placed her clog in the middle, then another, and held her breath. And waited. And waited. Several minutes passed, and Momo wondered if this was yet another dose of instructive negligence and apathy. It sure felt like being left home alone with all the shades drawn. ¡°Hello?¡± Momo yelled again. ¡°I think your dungeon might have a bug in it!¡± At her words, the platform began to shake. ¡°Oh, crap,¡± she mumbled, getting low to the ground for balance. ¡°I take that back¡ªI liked how it was before! Very nice, very calm and serene!¡± A sharp, harrowing growl echoed from the chasm below. Oh crap. She heard a churning of teeth, crackling and wet. Then a lapping of lips, like a wild dog preparing itself for a meal. Momo¡¯s entire body began to sweat. Look at you. You¡¯ve really done it now. The sounds endured for several minutes, the platform shaking with no end in sight. And God¡ª the growls and hisses were like nothing Momo had heard from any creature. Its cries sounded so pained, so viscerally frightened and angry. Like a caged animal left to starve. They left the hairs on Momo¡¯s arms rigid, and her heart hammered in her ear. Should she shapeshift? Or would leaving the platform make her an easier target? She didn¡¯t know which direction to turn. Behind her? In front? Where was it coming from? Would it attack? Momo twisted desperately in every direction she could, feeling a type of fear that was completely new to her. Every sound the thing made felt as if it had been created to explicitly elicit a new fear¡ªtiny chittering legs like an insect, haunting cries like a hyena. The platform stopped shaking. Did it¡­ leave? Momo took a sharp breath in, summoning all her little bravery, and crawled slowly to the edge of the platform. She gazed down into the abyss¡ªlooking for signs of any movement. But everything was quiet. She relaxed, feeling the muscles in her arms slack slightly. Until a shadow zipped through the air in front of her. She shrieked, toppling backward and scrambling on the hard stone. A figure¡ªabout her size¡ªlurched onto the platform. Its neck was bent downward unnaturally, so she could only see a cape of black hair. It made a low growling sound. And as Momo got to her feet, her entire body shaking, the figure¡¯s neck snapped up¡ª A pale, featureless face stared back at her. Momo¡¯s featureless face. Type: Nether Demon. Level 102. HP: ? / ? 273 – Human Lessons A chill ran down Momo¡¯s entire existence. That was not a demon. That was¡­ That was her. Formerly, at least. In another life. The creature was skinny, boney, hidden behind straight black bangs, wrapped in a Speak Now hoodie and wrinkled jeans. It wasn¡¯t wearing shoes, but its socks had tiny cats embroidered into the heel. If it wasn¡¯t for the face¡ªthat shocking lack of nose and mouth, leaving only a plane of pale skin¡ªit would have been like looking in a mirror. She¡¯d seen plenty of her own clones in the past few months, but this was different. This wasn¡¯t a clone, but more like¡­ a shadow. Everything about the other girl was sunken, stiff. Superficially, it was spot on. But when it walked, it held itself like a newborn, just trying out its feet for the first time. It wobbled and lurched and groaned when it fell over its feet. ¡°Hey¡­¡± Momo offered, backing up even further¡ªand nearly tripping when her heel danced along the edge of the platform. Righting herself, she waved her hands defensively. ¡°You don¡¯t want to fight me, right? Because I just saw your level, one hundred and two, that¡¯s pretty¡­ up there. Not super eager to find out what that¡ª err¡ª entails, if you know what I mean. Ha ha.¡± The demon tripped again, and let out a low hiss. It ripped off the socks from its feet, flinging them over the side of the circle and into the abyss. The feet that lay underneath did not have toes. They were like two half-melted appendages. Terror broiling in her stomach, Momo mumbled, ¡°Sensory issues? Totally been there. I remember those socks¡ªcute pattern, very scratchy. If you¡¯re just overstimulated, you can go back down there where you came from, and we can pick this discussion up another time¡­¡± She wasn¡¯t sure what her strategy was here. Therapy-talking down this alleged mega-evil chaos-creature didn¡¯t seem like the best technique in the book, but she also didn¡¯t want to egg it on. If she could convince it that she wasn¡¯t a threat, things would be a lot simpler. The creature stumbled forward again. Catching itself, it landed on its hands in something reminiscent of downward dog. It gurgled unpleasantly, in a fashion that Momo now understood to be a sound of impatient evaluation, and bent its knees experimentally. Finding its new position much more amiable than balancing on two gangly legs, it began to stalk forward. ¡°I can see now where my mom was coming from when she told me to stop walking around like that at the mall,¡± Momo murmured. ¡°Completely terrifying.¡± The creature gained speed, and in a flash, it leapt at her. Luckily, Momo was prepared¡ªand with this year¡¯s physical training behind her, she was both fast and strong enough to dodge out of the way and push the demon all at once. She managed it all in one fluid movement, stepping aside and thrusting her full weight at the creature as it passed her by, forcing it over the edge of the platform. It screamed as it plummeted, and Momo let out a breath, adrenaline washing over her. It wasn¡¯t the hardest task to push the younger, more frail version of herself, but the Nether Demon wasn¡¯t quite the same weight and texture as her meager human form¡ªits skin had felt like ice-cold rubber, pliable yet revolting. It hadn¡¯t felt like heaving a playground tire, not a person. The terrible screams got quieter and quieter, until they were nothing but echoes. Had the demon hit the ground? As her tight chest rose and fell, Momo waited to hear some kind of thudding noise. The chasm seemed tall, maybe tall enough for a fall like that to severely wound it, if not kill it entirely. But no sound came. Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. So Momo stood in place, and shivered. She didn¡¯t enjoy that glimpse back in time. It was strange, seeing her former self like that, lurching and slithering like a common animal¡ªbecause it was almost exactly how she had felt back then, in highschool. In adolescence. Even in college. Like something nasty and grotesque. Something to be¡­ hidden. Or better yet, discarded. Her lips narrowed into a frown. She turned to face the abyss, peering down into the endless black. Had she acted too impulsively? Fingers tightened around her left shoulder. Momo paled. Oh, god¡ª The creature took hold of both of her shoulders, gripping her like death itself. Momo whipped around, breaking the grip but finding herself just a breath away from its leering plane of skin. It looked so much less like skin, up close, and more like a mask one might don at a parade. Rubbery and loose. Going on instinct, Momo pushed on its chest, shoving it away again. It stumbled backward, but quickly recovered¡ªit was already learning how to balance on two feet. It was like it aged from a toddler to a young child within the span of a minute, its movements becoming smoother and more controlled. ¡°You picked up on that so fast,¡± Momo murmured, incredulous. A cold chill of awe sank through her. ¡°What exactly are you?¡± A low gurgle echoed from its throat, ¡°Grrebgbr.¡± Momo¡¯s eyebrows rose. That sound was different from the rest. It was less animalistic¡ªand while still complete gibberish¡ªalmost comprehensible. In the same way that it was quickly learning how to walk, could it learn how to talk, too? Seeing that it wasn¡¯t rushing to attack her again, she kept going with the gentler approach¡ª ¡°That¡¯s really impressive, you know,¡± she said. ¡°How fast you¡¯re learning to mimic me.¡± The creature returned her compliment with a bat-like screech. It lurched forward with the sound, but it didn¡¯t attack. Momo¡¯s hands flew up defensively, but she found that there was ultimately no use for them. This thing¡ªit reminded her of a wild dog more than anything else. All bark, no bite. At least for now. And while it was probably monumentally stupid of her not to [Abysmal Blast] it to pieces right away¡­ she wondered, perhaps, if there was an alternative. Something a little more¡­ Diplomatic. ¡°Are you trying to speak to me?¡± Momo said, venturing the question. She figured, now that she¡¯d seen just how timid this thing actually was, that maybe it was simply trying on different means of communication until one connected. ¡°I must have confused you by swooping down as a raven then transforming into a human, didn¡¯t I? My bad.¡± It screeched again, and then stomped its feet up and down, as if upset by its own inability. ¡°That¡¯s okay!¡± Momo urged, throwing her hands up. ¡°Just take your time. But¡ªum¡ªhuman speech is more in the mouth, you know? And the upper throat? Like this¡­¡± Feeling entirely stupid, she began moving her lips and making a variety of sounds. She was delighted when the demon started replicating them. ¡°Yes!¡± She grinned. ¡°Exactly. Try this one¡ª my name is actually pretty easy to say¡ªMomo.¡± The demon clenched its hand around its own throat, pressing down hard. ¡°Gr¡ª¡± it began, then pressed harder, ¡°Momo¡ªow.¡± Momo jumped. That voice¡ªit had sounded like her own, but turned down a few decibels. She grinned. ¡°Good job!¡± she said, then clapped. ¡°That¡¯s my name! Exactly!¡± The creature started clapping too, mimicking her. They clapped at each other for several seconds until Momo stopped, and looked around the dome. The creature did the same¡ªarching its head unnaturally in many directions. ¡°Alright, trial,¡± Momo shouted, cupping her hands around her mouth. ¡°Me and the demon are friends now. Can we call this concluded?¡± ¡°Me¡ªand¡ªthe¡ªgrrrbbrrr¡ªdone now,¡± her replica repeated, half of its speech sounding very normal, and the other half like someone had poured a bunch of maple syrup in a diesel engine. Just as Momo was about to try and correct her shadow further, a crackle of lightning stroked across the sky. The demon bristled, barking again into the dark, lurching in several directions. Momo shook her hands around in an attempt to soothe it. ¡°It¡¯s okay! I¡¯m sure that was just part of this whole ¡­ thing! No need to get all feral again.¡± ¡°Gosh. You truly are a terrible learner, Momo. Three trials, and you couldn¡¯t do a single one as intended.¡± The hair went rigid on Momo¡¯s arms. That voice¡ªshe turned backward in immediate relief, expecting to see Valerica¡¯s shining golden face¡ªbut her grin faltered when she met the eyes of a wholly different creature. Curled black horns. One eye red, the other black. This was the dokkaebi that had visited her on the train. The one that had given her the letter inviting her to Morgana¡¯s so-called funeral. ¡°Venice,¡± she said, startled. ¡°I didn¡¯t expect to see¡­ you.¡± 274 – Death ¡°Venice,¡± Momo said. ¡°I didn¡¯t expect to see¡­ you.¡± The dokkaebi, who was floating just above the platform, landed slowly onto the stone. His eyes drifted beyond Momo¡¯s shoulder to regard the Nether demon, which was breathing heavily behind her. Its shoulders were hunched protectively, analyzing the new intruder. And though Momo probably looked a lot less threatening in her skepticism than it did¡ªshe felt exactly like her demonic counterpart in that moment. Because this sudden interruption felt¡­ wrong. Out of place, like a jarring scene in otherwise convincing play. ¡°Are you¡­ part of this? The trials?¡± Momo asked, watching him closely. She didn¡¯t want any surprises. ¡°I am,¡± he confessed easily. Momo¡¯s eyebrows rose. She hadn¡¯t expected him to be so upfront about it. Perhaps she had gotten too accustomed to Valerica¡¯s chronic evasiveness. ¡°Oh?¡± she said, stepping toward him. To her surprise, his aura was like a pressure field. She wondered just how powerful a natural-born dokkaebi could be. ¡°And are you going to tell me what your involvement is, or I am going to have to guess?¡± Venice laughed. ¡°I will be much more direct.¡± He raised his hand and pointed a blackened finger toward the Nether demon. ¡°Wait, what are you¡ª¡± Momo¡¯s mouth opened in shock, feeling a devastating premonition wash over her even before the spell fired off¡ª a white tendril of magic that curled through the air and stabbed right through her shadow¡¯s chest. ¡°No!¡± she yelled, barreling into Venice. ¡°Stop it!¡± They were on the ground, Venice splayed out on the stone with a greedy smile, Momo hyperventilating on top of him, when the Nether demon screeched. Momo scowled at him. ¡°What¡¯s wrong with you? It wasn¡¯t doing anything!¡± He scoffed, not reacting as Momo lifted him by the collar of his shirt. ¡°What¡¯s wrong with you? I was only making your life easier. Taking care of that thing so we could have a bit of quiet conversation.¡± She nearly tore his collar from his pale neck. ¡°That thing did not need taking care of.¡± A shadow swooped over them. Momo could see the reflection of the monstrosity in Venice¡¯s eyes, and her heart nearly stopped at the sight. The shadow¡ªit was crying. Even without eyes. Wet tears were cascading over an otherwise plain face. That was the first thing Momo noticed, before everything else. Then¡ªin exact order¡ªshe saw the talons, the teeth, the grotesque dimensions of its expanded maw, and finally the inner wall of its dark throat as it attempted to swallow them whole. Venice rolled them out of the way, and the demon landed with a shuddering thud on the pavement, its mouth closing around nothing but stone. It didn¡¯t seem to care, though¡ªbecause it immediately locked onto them again, neck cracking in their direction. Momo angrily disentangled herself from the dokkaebi, pushing him off of her as she shakily got to her feet. She threw her hands up like two white flags¡ªspread her feet and breathed slowly. ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± she called out, breaths falling hazardously from her lungs as she met the demon¡¯s gaze head on. ¡°I¡¯m not going to let him hurt you again.¡± The beast cried out at her. It was a sound like a plate shattering. Venice let out an incredulous laugh behind her. ¡°Are you seriously defending a monster?¡± ¡°She isn¡¯t a monster,¡± Momo said, frowning with certainty. She had seen it herself. This creature was not innately murderous. It simply reflected what it was given. ¡°It¡¯s just a collection of fears.¡± Venice bent on his knee and dragged himself off the pavement, muttering as he said, ¡°I do not think what it is composed of matters as much as the fact that it wants to cannibalize us.¡± ¡°It didn¡¯t want to even go near you until you struck it out of nowhere,¡± Momo snapped. The demon was twitching in front of her¡ªthe physical manifestation of a mind caught between two competing desires. ¡°I think¡ªI think it just reflects whatever behavior it sees. It¡¯s like a mirror.¡± This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. ¡°Ah,¡± Venice breathed, appearing behind her and placing a cold hand on her shoulder. ¡°So like a problematic child. In that case, let us correct it. Together. How about that, cousin?¡± Her face molten hot, Momo turned to him and growled, ¡°Don¡¯t you dare.¡± ¡°Do you seriously think you can clear this trial without killing it?¡± he scoffed. Momo blinked at him, taken aback. ¡°Is there¡ªis there really no other way?¡± A blithing pain rocked through Momo. She cried out, her vision tunneling into a slim corridor as she finally noticed the demon below her, its hand buried in her chest cavity. It had moved so quickly she hadn¡¯t even picked up on it¡ªeither that, or she had been too distracted by emotion to see it coming. She gripped the demon¡¯s wrist with both her hands. ¡°Stop it! That hurts!¡± she cried, trying and failing to push the demon¡¯s fist out of her. Venice regarded her from the side, his eyebrows raised minutely but showing no further emotion. The demon¡¯s damp plane of skin towered over her, its fist writhing in her gut. Momo¡¯s entire world was twisting in pain, as if the very concept of fear and loathing had buried itself beneath her skin. Flashes of memories tore through her. Her mother on her first day of elementary school, not holding Momo¡¯s hand even after she asked. Her brother running headfirst into a pole, bleeding from the head while Momo was supposed to be watching him. It was as if the attack was more than physical¡ªit was existential. The demon was pouring itself into her, like a negative torrent of energy. Screaming, writhing, crying. Low HP Warning! ¡°Would you like my help now?¡± Venice¡¯s voice was grainy. It echoed like it came from a far away corridor. Even in all of her anguish, Momo croaked out, ¡°No.¡± The creature¡¯s hand swam through her ribcage and gripped around her beating heart. Momo heard a soft squeal from the rodent that lived there. The sound was small and terrified. At that noise, Momo¡¯s eyes snapped open, as if pried savagely from a dream. ¡°Take what you want from me,¡± she said, blood tinny on her lips. ¡°But you will leave the gerbil out of this.¡± In a flight of lucidity, Momo let go of the demon¡¯s hands, and instead gripped onto the sides of its face. Pressing hard to its rubbery flesh, she screamed, ¡°[Nether Demon ¡ª Purify]!¡± The pain did not stop, but the writhing paused. She could feel its hands still in her chest, twitching as they brushed up against raw muscle. Momo tried not to throw up at the very feeling of it, keeping all her energy pointed toward the being in front of her as she flowed every ounce of feeling into that spell¡ª a spell that was never given to her. A spell which she, at this very moment, was attempting to create. Because Momo was a god now. And if she wanted to¡ªshe fucking would. ¡°P¨Curify?¡± the demon mumbled. Its voice was both hollow and curious. Momo fell to her knees, and took the creature with her. She felt entirely faint, a high-pitched buzzing in her ears as she gripped the shadowy creature with every atom of her being. She nodded, and smiled weakly, her vision starting to tunnel again. ¡°Yes. [Purify].¡± The demon nodded back at her. White light began to pour from Momo¡¯s palms onto the demon¡¯s skin, encasing it in a shimmering glow. Warmth building between them, the creature withdrew its hand completely from Momo¡¯s chest, and strewed its bloody fingers along Momo¡¯s cheek, matching her action. Momo had the thought that they might have looked like a beautiful, morbid painting then¡ª two demons, two angels, two fearful girls, lorded over by some watching gargoyle. A gargoyle who could not resist adding, ¡°You will die soon, you know. You are close.¡± Momo knew he was right. And yet she only felt euphoria as her System pinged in her ear. Purification Complete Nether Demon (lvl. 102) ¡ª> Nether Demon (Purified Variant) (lvl. 102) The demon¡¯s face began to change. Two eyes carved themselves into skin. Its pupils were black, but expressive. Tiny bubbles of white swam in them. ¡°Beautiful,¡± Momo whispered. The creature let go of Momo¡¯s cheeks, and pressed its red fingers to its own eyes, as if surprised by their emergence. When it let go of them, its face was stained with blood, but yet somehow it never looked more childish and naive¡ª simple and curious. ¡°Free,¡± it said, eyes narrowing, then opening. ¡°Free?¡± Momo couldn¡¯t help the ginormous smile that formed on her face. She nodded again. ¡°Free.¡± Dungeon of the Dark Divine Trial Complete: Nether Demon Trial 3 / 3 Complete Objective failed: Kill your demons As the words materialized in a shimmering plane before Momo, the platform began to shake. Knowing her health was dwindling toward a final point, Momo cast, ¡°[Dark Healing],¡± pressing her hand to her own chest, but not daring to enter the cavity. Black tendrils began to seep their way inside of her, working their way through disjointed bone and flesh. Venice squatted in front of her, entering the tunnel of her vision with a scowl. ¡°That should not have been possible,¡± he seethed. Momo shrugged. She was feeling so many emotions in that moment, they all somehow managed to meld together into a pleasant apathy. ¡°A little imagination goes a long way,¡± she replied. The sky above them began to break open. Light was pouring in through the crack. Venice looked to the sky, then back to Momo. Something cold drifted over his eyes, as if a wall had erupted inside of his mind. A decision made. One that she was not privy to. ¡°It appears,¡± he breathed. ¡°You have forced me into a corner.¡± Momo looked at him, bewildered. He got closer to her. She did not enjoy the proximity. He sighed and stuck his hand through the open wound in her chest, grabbing tightly around her exposed organ¡ª and before she could react, his talons were through her. ¡°May Morgana be merciful,¡± he whispered, a plea for himself, not her. And then¡ªeverything was black. Not black, but gone. Momo¡¯s lips stilled, half-spoken, and her eyes drained of life. Her body crumpled flat to the platform. Venice withdrew his hand, and with it, a skeletal gerbil. He stared at the creature with flat eyes. ¡°To think,¡± he said. ¡°Something so small was driving something so stubborn.¡± 275 – Don’t Be Scared [... CRITICAL SYSTEM ERROR BOOK OF EXISTENCE VIOLATION ADMIN REQUESTED¡­] ¡°Valerica,¡± Morgana mumbled into her pillow. ¡°Please come deal with this.¡± A single speck of light illuminated the Goddess of All Goddesses bedroom. It was less a bedroom, really, and more a swamp of parchment in the shape of a chamber. A bog constructed of ignored mail. One that Valerica waded through, her dress hiked up to her waist, a frown on her face as she trudged her way over to Morgana. ¡°Important mail?¡± Valerica asked, taking the envelope from her. ¡°The sender seems to think so.¡± Valerica raised an eyebrow, inspecting the parcel. Ever since Morgana had fallen into her slump many months ago, notes from the System Administrators had been collecting in their little slice of heaven like scraps of unwanted confetti. And due to Momo¡¯s addition to the System rulebook, System exceptions were occurring constantly; not to mention the burgeoning System Initiation on several previously uninitiated planets; it all made for much paperwork¡­ But this notice was a bit different. It was lighter weight than the rest, and on the front of the envelope, printed in big, red, angry, ink, were the words: CRITICAL - DO NOT DISCARD - MORGANA PLEASE OPEN THIS ONE - WE¡¯VE BEEN TRYING TO REACH YOU FOR MONTHS - IT IS CHAOS IN HERE - WE ARE UNDERPAID AND OVERWORKED Valerica snorted. ¡°They are certainly getting desperate,¡± she said, ripping into the envelope with her sharpened nails. ¡°I think this might be yet another attempt by the System Administrators to unionize.¡± Splayed like a sleeping corpse on her bed of paper, Morgana did not look up as she waved her hand dismissively. ¡°If they want to, let them. I do not care anymore. Let it all go to rot. Anything to decrease the amount of aggravating interruptions to my eternal slumber.¡± Valerica huffed, crossing her arms. ¡°Are you really so resolute about this being dead forever business? I am very prepared to call off the funeral any time now.¡± ¡°Have Kyros and all of my children shown up on the doorstep, heads down, begging for my mercy and forgiveness?¡± Valerica tapped her shoe to the floor, and sighed. ¡°Well. No.¡± ¡°Then I will continue insisting on the being dead forever business, yes.¡± ¡°But Morgana, you cannot squash them like the little ungrateful pests they are while dead.¡± ¡°I do not care about squashing any longer. Squashing is your domain. Defeatism is mine.¡± ¡°Well, technically it is Azrael¡¯s¡ª¡± ¡°I do not care who is in charge of what¡ªthere will be no domains left to squabble over when the Nether demons finally claim us all,¡± Morgana groaned, pounding her fist to her makeshift pillow. ¡°An effort which is progressing so dreadfully slowly, might I say. Can you remind me how much of the Nether they have cannibalized so far? Any increases since we last spoke?¡± Valerica pinched the bridge of her nose, growing frustrated. Still, she offered, ¡°About five percent more of the Nether has been consumed by them since I last checked.¡± ¡°So in total?¡± ¡°Must this really be our topic of conversation every time?¡± ¡°For as long as I have deemed that the universe¡ªand every god, mortal, and chicken inside it¡ªis no longer worth keeping around, yes. Yes it will be. So, total?¡± Valerica knew this was a battle she would not win, not now, perhaps not ever, so she sighed and capitulated. ¡°In total¡­ I believe they have consumed about half of ¡­ well¡­ everything. So they are on track to devour us all in good time. Does that make you happy?¡± ¡°Deeply. Thank you. Now, deal with the letter and be on your way.¡± Valerica felt a migraine coming on, and it wasn¡¯t just the lighting. ¡°Very well.¡± Retreating from Morgana¡¯s room, she shut the door behind her softly, and glided through space to her familiar coffee table, which sat on a fluffy little black cloud. She slid into her chair, sipped on a cup of tea that continually shimmered in and out of existence, and pinched the letter from its envelope. As she had thought, it was rather short. Only a mere page. If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Goddess, [Nether Dokkaebi#00241] Venice has committed a Book of Existence violation. Violation #212 Venice has killed a fellow Nether Dokkaebi, [Excalibur-grade Mortal/Burgeoning Lesser Goddess] Momo ¡°The Ripper¡± Lim System Note: It seems that [Nether Dokkaebi#00241] took advantage of the small window of time between when the last Onboarding trial was completed (so respawn is no longer an option) but before the Burgeoning Lesser God could actually ascend into the Nether and become immortal, rendering Momo Lim¡¯s body vulnerable. What action should be taken? The teacup shattered in Valerica¡¯s grip. Her hands, bloodied from the shards, trembled as she reread the page several times. A long silence weighed over the Vacant Edge. Eventually, she stood and reached for her rain jacket on the nearby coat hanger. A dark green thing, with pockets. She shrugged it onto her shoulders. ¡°I¡¯m going out,¡± she said, stalking out the door. She did not particularly care if Morgana heard her. ¡°Seems I have to deal with some things in person.¡± ¡ª ¡°M¨Como? M¨Como?¡± Momo awoke with a sharp intake of breath, vision spinning, everything tilting wildly off-axis. Her ears rang; her eyes were like two dry, blurry saucers. The only thing tethering her to existence at all was a soft, repetitive voice, and two cold but firm hands wrapping around her wrists, shaking her lightly. ¡°Oh god.¡± Momo groaned as she rose. All of her ached, as if her every muscle had been violently exhausted, drained of adrenaline. Her heart ached most of all¡ª but not in the way where it was beating too fast, but in the way that it didn¡¯t feel like it was beating¡­ at all. ¡°What the hell? Biscuit?¡± Frantically, she looked down at her chest, but it seemed normal. Pale skin, no exposed ribs. The gaping hole in the shape of the demon¡¯s fist had healed completely. But when she pressed her palm flat to her heart, where she was used to hearing the soft churn of a wheel, there was no sensation. No familiar rush of blood. No pulse at all. Momo¡¯s mouth fell open, and she looked to the Nether demon, who was eyeing her with childlike concern. Her shadow was more beaten-up than Momo remembered¡ªhalf of its shoulder was simply gone, and there was a jagged line on its forehead, as if a serrated blade had cut across it. There was a fight here. One she couldn¡¯t recall. A small sheet of parchment beside her confirmed what she already knew to be true. BOOK OF EXISTENCE VIOLATION REMEDIED ADMIN INTERVENTION COMPLETED YOUR LIFE HAS BEEN RESTORED Admin intervention? Had Morgana¡­ saved her? She couldn¡¯t even begin to process the thought that she had genuinely¡ªdied. Again. But god, she certainly felt like she had. ¡°Did Venice do this?¡± Momo asked her demonic counterpart, her free hand clamping over the fabric of her shirt. ¡°Did he ¡ª did he try and kill me?¡± The creature squinted and nodded. It did not seem to have the words to explain. Momo didn¡¯t blame it. Poor traumatized thing. ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± she sighed, feeling her own adrenaline fade. ¡°Mr. Stupid Horn-Man is gone. He¡¯s not going to be murdering either of us again anytime soon.¡± When the demon¡¯s eyebrows jumped up in fear, she corrected herself¡ª ¡°Not going to be murdering us again ever. Sorry. Ever.¡± Momo held her hand up to the creature¡¯s gentle face, brushing over the scar. The demon hissed, but did not clamp itself over her hand¡ª it was pained, but not dangerous. Keeping her hand pressed to the creature¡¯s forehead, she cast, ¡°[Dark Healing],¡± and watched as the wound closed up. She did the same to the creature¡¯s shoulder, until the demon was no longer wincing in pain. It clapped in appreciation¡ªapparently the only positive gesture it understood so far. Momo clapped back, and laughed. Because really¡ªwhat was she to do but laugh? Well, actually, she did know what she was to do instead. And that was be really fucking pissed. Her list of people she would smack the shit out of on sight had just grown from one to two. (Sera was now in terrible company.) Turning her head, she finally noticed something that hadn¡¯t been there before. The surrounding walls had completely crumbled while she had been unconscious, and all that was left was their stone platform. And on their platform, where the white circle had been, a rift portal had opened. The same kind that she could create with her hands, or with the right cross-section of her swords. ¡°I guess this is how we leave,¡± Momo murmured. Reluctantly she stumbled to her feet. She sure hoped there wasn¡¯t another battle awaiting her on the other side of that portal, because no part of her felt ready for it. She had just recently gotten her magic back, for gods¡¯ sake. She was in no mood for another death match. ¡°L¡ªleave?¡± The demon hadn¡¯t followed her towards the portal. It stood fixed in place, hugging its midsection, looking utterly terrified. Its eyes kept drawing a line between Momo and the portal, and then blinking furiously, as if it couldn¡¯t understand what might happen when the two interact. Like a child with separation anxiety. Momo smiled gently at it, and wordlessly offered her hand up. After a few moments, the creature crept forward, and held it. ¡°You haven¡¯t been out there before, have you?¡± Momo pursed her lips, pausing. ¡°I guess¡ª I guess you were born here, in this dungeon, created by all my stupid emotions¡­ ¡± Momo shook her head. ¡°Trust me, there¡¯s a lot more out there to see than just¡­ this. A whole world. Multiple worlds. Dogs. Cats. Trees. Grass. An insane woman named Valerica. It¡¯s actually pretty exciting stuff, the universe.¡± The creature seemed to fixate on one thing in particular. ¡°D¨Cdogs?¡± Momo nodded. ¡°They¡¯re very excellent. I¡¯ll introduce you to many of them.¡± The demon swallowed. This seemed to placate it. ¡°Alright. Come on,¡± Momo whispered, taking another step forward. Her foot disappeared into the rift, and she could already feel herself being pulled to the other side. ¡°Don¡¯t be scared.¡± The demon nodded fervently, grasping its throat again so it could make the right sounds. ¡°D¨Con¡¯t b¨Ce scared!¡± When Momo clapped in affirmation, the demon jumped and hugged her from behind, pushing them both headfirst through the portal. 276 – The Lore Department ONBOARDING COMPLETE ASCENSION COMPLETE WELCOME TO THE NETHER, LESSER GODDESS MOMO As Momo stepped out into the other side of oblivion, she was met with the most unwelcome sight¡ªa hundred watching eyes. Whether it be at high school graduation, delivering a speech as Queen, or wading deep into the Nethereal void, Momo was never one for being looked at, so, rather on instinct, she grit her teeth and ducked behind her demonic partner. ¡°Momo Lim?¡± It had taken Momo¡¯s eyes a moment to adjust to her new surroundings, but once she did, she realized that it was just not just a hundred hooded pupils in the dark gazing at her, but an entire room full of people, most standing behind clipboards, printers, typewriters, and some even modern laptops. She had stepped into a rollicking mishmash of writer-types throughout history¡ªmen in caps, women in long dresses with feathered quills behind their ear, and of course, because this was the Nether, there was a fair share of lizards, goblins, and other manner of creatures bobbing around, head down in the print. And at the far back of the well-lit writers¡¯ room, a giant chalkboard was affixed to the wall, with the words UNIVERSAL LORE DEPARTMENT written across it. ¡°Ms. Lesser Goddess of Reaping?¡± Momo finally peaked out her head behind the demon. ¡°Yes?¡± she said. ¡°Am I¡ª where am I?¡± ¡°Oh. Well. This is the Lore department, ma¡¯am.¡± She squinted. ¡°The¡­ Lore department?¡± Momo was feeling a good deal of whiplash being flung from such a dark and dreary dungeon to this brightly lit parchment emporium, but more than that¡ªshe was feeling immense relief. These Nether residents didn¡¯t seem actively hostile, or, even better, murderous. She¡¯d take that as a win. The one addressing her was a young man in a newsboy cap. He had a name tag fixed to his vest, which identified him as Roger Earth. He looked permanently thirty-two, with a strong, hardened face, and thick, muscular hands, one of which Momo accepted when he reached out to fervently shake hers. ¡°It¡¯s nice to finally meet you,¡± Roger said, raising an eyebrow. Momo stared at him, bemused. She was never going to get used to the way the Nether flung you so easily between contexts. She was still reeling from death, and yet the universe saw it perfectly suitable to stroll her here, the center of attention under fluorescent lights. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but I¡ª I have no idea who you are,¡± she mumbled, flushing. Roger gave her a mischievous smirk. ¡°Ah. You¡¯ve read my work before, I assure you. Now, come with me. Your friend can stay in the waiting room while we chat.¡± ¡°Oh, I don¡¯t think that¡¯s a good idea¡ª¡± But to Momo¡¯s surprise, her shadow was already sitting on one of the plastic chairs in the corner of the office, happily sipping a cup of pomegranate juice that one of the writers had offered. The creature looked completely entranced by the purple liquid sloshing around in her cup¡ªentranced enough that it might entertain her for a solid few hours. ¡°Ah, nevermind,¡± Momo said. ¡°That¡¯s fine.¡± With a charming laugh, Roger led her through the building¡¯s brightly lit corridors to his own office. It was a rather spacious room, with a desk, a PC, and several framed pictures hanging on the wall. Momo found herself drawn to them, eyes widening as she took in their subjects¡ªone was of the volcano at Pompeii, another was in Ancient Greece, then Rome, two in feudal Japan, and then finally a more recent photograph, of a monkey being interviewed by an American news network. Roger tapped at the photograph of the monkey, his fingertip smudging the clear film. ¡°You actually know her, don¡¯t you?¡± ¡°The¡ª monkey?¡± ¡°I believe she goes by Valerica.¡± Momo¡¯s jaw dropped, and she laughed incredulously. She remembered Valerica mentioning a recent incident where she transformed into a monkey accidentally on Earth, some sort of Reaper-transformation-faux paus, but she had assumed it was an exaggeration. Roger lifted one of the frames off the wall, smiling at it as he turned it in his hands towards Momo. It was a picture of him at Shakespeare¡¯s Globe Theater, posing with an actor. Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. ¡°Cool, right? Shakespeare was one of my favorite projects.¡± Momo had no idea what he was talking about, so she just smiled at him. ¡°Man, you can¡¯t believe how exciting this is for me,¡± he said, laughing lightly as he set down the picture on his desk and settled into his chair. He gestured for Momo to take the seat opposite of him, so she did, still unable to make any sense of this situation as he continued, ¡°A mortal from my planet rising to goddesshood. How crazy is that? Like, talk about a hometown hero moment.¡± Momo¡¯s eyes bulged, and she leaned over the table urgently. ¡°Wait, you¡¯re from Earth, too?¡± ¡°Oh, no no,¡± he said, waving her off. ¡°Born and raised in the Nether. I simply write for Earth.¡± Momo blinked. ¡°Write for Earth?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± he said, leaning down to press the boot up button on his computer. Its fans started whizzing. ¡°Ever read a history textbook? That was all me.¡± Momo¡¯s stomach clenched. He couldn¡¯t be serious¡ª ¡°As in, you record human history?¡± Momo said. ¡°Like a historian?¡± Roger frowned, and began moving his mouse around. His desktop was completely cluttered with folders. ¡°Not recorded. Wrote. Well, ok¡ª I only wrote the most interesting bits. For most stretches of human history, humans do very boring things. Grow things. Kill things. Cook those things. Eat those things. My job is to freshen up the timeline every once in a while, add new beats to entertain the gods with. Start wars, assassinate kings, industrial revolutions¡­¡± ¡°Aha,¡± he said, holding up a finger as he opened a folder that was titled Conspiracies and Religion. ¡°Here we are. Are you ready to begin?¡± Feeling a rising panic in her chest, Momo cut in, ¡°I¡¯m sorry, are you trying to tell me humans have no free will? You just¡ª decide everything we do?¡± He began clacking at his keyboard, and Momo watched as her name appeared at the top of his document. Under it were some basic details about her appearance, her height, her age. Why did this feel like a doctor¡¯s appointment? ¡°No one has true free will, honey,¡± he said, biting at his lip in concentration. ¡°Maybe except Morgana. And look how she¡¯s using it. But no, the people of Earth are certainly in charge of their day to day decisions. I don¡¯t mess about in human private lives, except for if it¡¯ll make for a truly good bit of immortal gossip. All I do is submit my story beats, and then Lesser Gods go in and create the right circumstances for me¡ªkill off a few heirs, make the ground quake a bit, do whatever they need to do to get people to act off script¡­¡± He leaned back in his chair, and smoothed his hand through his sleek blonde hair. ¡°Ninety nine percent of the time I just write backstory, and that backstory tends to influence the human present day a great deal, even when the humans themselves can¡¯t even remember it! They weren¡¯t even there when my events¡ªsome fake, some real¡ª transpired, and yet they care so much,¡± he laughed. ¡°For instance, did you know that Norway wasn¡¯t actually there for most of the time the Earth¡¯s been around? I was just talking to Ytra the other day, and she said another landmass would balance out the Nordic region well, so we introduced it a couple years back. I wrote some backstory for it¡ªmade up a few wars¡ªand man, people really believe it now!¡± Momo laughed nervously. This revelation was somehow more traumatizing than anything Valerica had said to her, and that was a true achievement. ¡°But, anyway, back to you,¡± he said, catching her eyes. ¡°Whenever a new god is introduced, it¡¯s my job to weave them into the lore of the Earth. Make it seem like they were always there, you know? Get them into the history textbooks. On subreddits. Generate some cults. So that¡¯s what I¡¯m going to do with you. And after you speak with me, your story will get sent to the rest of the universal imprints for localization to other planets. Alois is taken care of, of course, but the rest of the universe is severely lacking in their Momo education.¡± Momo¡¯s eyes widened. Pushing past the whole thing about the existence of Norway, this was¡ªthis was quite exhilarating. She had seen hints in the past of such a web of knowledge transferring from world to world, like when Alois¡¯s citizens would occasionally mention off-brand Greek myths, but she didn¡¯t actually know there was a real, structured system behind it. An organism that made sure the universe was all in coherent narrative arrangement. Of course, it was all designed to feed the gods¡¯ narcissistic tendencies, but still. Cool nonetheless. ¡°So, here¡¯s what I¡¯m thinking,¡± he said, spreading his hands in front of her in a grand gesture. ¡°On Earth, to keep with the general etymology of your name, we¡¯ll have you first introduced through the Japanese culture, circa the shogun era, perhaps? It¡¯s an era with a lot of modern day interest, but far enough in the past that no one could wag their finger if a new figure of importance suddenly showed up. How¡¯s that sound?¡± Completely overwhelmed, Momo nodded weakly. ¡°Great. From there, we¡¯ll vaguely follow your story from Alois¡­ So feel free to correct me on the details.¡± He looked at her for some sort of affirmation, and once she nodded again, he plowed on, ¡°So from what I understand, you basically arrived in Alois very weak, feeble, selectively mute, and unsocialized. Would that be a correct assessment?¡± Momo laughed in shock. But, well. She couldn¡¯t call it incorrect. ¡°That¡¯s fairly accurate, yes,¡± she whispered, her cheeks flushing again. ¡°Mm. Ok. And then you came under the care of a woman who was completely foreign to you. An evil woman, by all local accounts, with very twisted notions of morality. You clung onto her despite all rational reasons not to, and through her mentorship, you shot into immense power, eventually making a name for yourself as a local ruler, then a queen?¡± He continued on like that for several more minutes, with Momo nodding through all of it, feeling increasing levels of embarrassment, until he slunk into his chair, and let out a pleased sigh. The document on his computer had reached fifteen pages. ¡°Wonderful. I think I¡¯ve got the perfect Earthly version of your tale in mind,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯ll just take the night to write it up, then send it to the other imprints for localization. And on your next trip to Earth, you should hopefully take notice.¡± Momo¡¯s eyebrows shot up. ¡°Take notice?¡± ¡°Well, of course. You are still a minor god, so you won¡¯t have your own million-person following or anything, but there will definitely be a subreddit or two. And if you decide to do anything accidentally supernatural while you¡¯re there, do send me an email, and I¡¯ll make sure to explain it away somehow¡ª I¡¯m a master of cover up jobs.¡± He winked at her, then stood. Circling the desk, he slapped a hand to her shoulder. ¡°So,¡± he said. ¡°If you don¡¯t mind, this might be a good time for you to grab your¡­ friend.¡± Momo turned her head slowly, and through the glass of his office, she saw the Nether demon splayed out on the floor, unconscious in a pool of pomegranate juice. 277 – The Undercurrent Momo hoisted the Nether Demon over her shoulder like the creature was a drunk girl at a dive bar. It flopped over with a grunt, and black drool dribbled down Momo¡¯s shoulder. It stung slightly when it came in contact with her bare skin, as if it were mildly poisonous. ¡°Delightful,¡± she sighed. With the demon collected, and her goddess paperwork filled out, Momo headed for the exit. It was a pretty obvious find: a tall plastic door with a makeshift sign above it, a doodled picture depicting a stick figure jumping into the black hole of space. How completely ominous. As Momo usually did before spectacular mistakes, she thought to herself, here goes nothing, I hope I don¡¯t die, and wrapped her hand around the doorknob. However she realized quite quickly that she had no idea where she was intending to go. She knew that she wanted to find Valerica, to talk to her and figure out a more appropriate plan of action to take on their little Kyros issue¡ªbut as to how to find her, and this so-called Vacant Edge, she still didn¡¯t have the faintest clue. One of the goblin-journalists working for the Lore Department was slamming his fist on the fax machine to her left, so she took the moment to lean toward him. She cleared her throat. ¡°Quick question¡ª¡± ¡°Goddamn machinery,¡± he groaned, cutting her off immediately. Grabbing the machine with his leathery red fingers, he opened the top of it, and ripped out the slip of paper he¡¯d been attempting to scan. The contents of it were written in a totally foreign script, one that Momo had never seen on Earth or Alois. ¡°How¡¯s a man supposed to start a decades-long plague when he can¡¯t even send a memo?¡± Momo choked on air. ¡°Excuse me?¡± His nostrils flared. ¡°The Nether technicians say technology is progress. I say it''s a poorly disguised disease. I never had these issues back when we delivered plagues by hand.¡± ¡°Oh.¡± It appeared that Momo had just encountered the opportunity to prevent some foreign planet from experiencing a completely preventable epidemic. She really missed when her biggest problem was Viktor Mole. ¡°I know I¡¯m not a writer,¡± she ventured, then paused. ¡°But maybe this is a sign to take another direction with the plot? Something less¡­ genocidal?¡± The goblin whipped toward her, eyes narrowed in exasperation. She noticed his name tag then¡ª Frezrick Eziroth. It sounded weirdly, reminiscently German. He huffed. ¡°The maggots on Eziroth are overdue for a little population control. It¡¯s for their own good, really. Future generations will have me to thank when there¡¯s enough crop to go around. Plague always has bad optics, but then suddenly the price of gruel goes down¡­¡± The machine made a beeping noise, and began to finally scan his document. ¡°Thank goddess,¡± he muttered. Feeling a very sudden sense of responsibility, Momo lifted the top of the scanner, reached in, and snagged the paper. Frezrick¡¯s expression was one of pure horror as she tore the sheet to shreds, and then shoved the remnants in her mouth, swallowing them. ¡°What was¡ª why did you¡ª¡± he babbled. It seemed that she would need to find someone else to ask for directions. ¡°Sorry!¡± Spinning on her heel, she yanked open the exit door and came face to face with the rift portal behind it. She stepped through just as Frezrick reached out to tackle her, the goblin falling face first as Momo disappeared into oblivion. Meanwhile, somewhere on Eziroth, a rather eventful chapter disappeared from the history textbook. *** In the same way that it was unwise to put an infant behind the steering wheel, tape a leather shoe to the gas pedal, and point the vehicle toward the highway, it seemed that skipping past ten thousand books of onboarding material meant Momo¡¯s Nether navigational skills left something to be desired. And by something, she meant everything. Luckily, she wasn¡¯t alone. After escaping through the door, she had been spit out into yet another swirling black abyss. Unlike the more creative domain of Mordecai or the Nether¡¯s many bustling replicant areas, this abyss was a rather generic kind of twilight zone. The room¡¯s only light came from an illuminated orange safety vest worn by an agitated looking figure at the center of the space. Like the police officers she once faced in Nether New York, this man¡¯s face was invisible to the naked eye. His popped white collar seemed to house only air. However peering at him from different directions revealed faint white glimmers of light bouncing off the crevices of an unseeable face. He was simply painted the color of the Nether, she deduced, making him appear much like a chameleon in an environment like this. ¡°Hello, nice to meet you,¡± Momo greeted, ever polite. ¡°I¨C¡± ¡°Wrong way,¡± he said. One of his nothing-hands was holding a wrong way sign, and when she approached him, he wagged it at her passive aggressively. ¡°Turn around.¡± ¡°Sorry. I think¡ª well, no, I know¡ª I¡¯m lost.¡± ¡°Yes, you clearly are. Wrong way,¡± he said again. She did not budge. This must have been the wrong thing to do, because she could practically hear his eyebrows furrow. ¡°Go on now. Get out of here. Your aura is as gigantic as¡ª as¡ª gods, I don¡¯t know. I don¡¯t get out enough for metaphors. Point is, with mana like that, you¡¯re going to attract demons.¡± This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Momo¡¯s lips tightened. He apparently hadn¡¯t registered the one hanging like a corpse from her shoulder. Probably because the Nether Demon was also very hard to see in this light. She peered at his vest and noticed, up close, that he had his own name tag. Nether Maintenance Crew #0283 Department of Improper Nether Traversal Crossing Guard Finally, someone whose job was a little more digestible. She gave him an apologetic smile. ¡°I see you¡¯re a¡­ crossing guard. I¡¯m trying to get to the Vacant Edge,¡± she said, hoping the more direct approach would work. He was an employee of the Nether, after all. Obliged to aid all of its citizens. ¡°Would you be able to help me?¡± Momo heard a faint rustling sound coming from somewhere. The man inhaled sharply. ¡°Oh for the love of¡ª you gods and your irresponsible mana spillage,¡± he hissed, dropping his sign. ¡°There¡¯s no helping either of us now! Goodbye!¡± Much to Momo¡¯s chagrin, his soul seemed to leave his body as all his clothes shriveled up at once, condensing into a pile of laundry in the air before flopping shaggily onto the cold black floor. The crossing guard was gone, and to replace him, a sound like a tea kettle whined in the darkness, followed by the hungry lapping of lips. She sighed. He had warned her. In the few moments before inevitable chaos ensued, Momo cast [Focus] and hastily shrugged the Demon from her shoulder, bracing herself. Wolverine-like claws slashed through the darkness. Their metallic sheen was so reflective that Momo could briefly see herself in them, a whisk of white hair and shallow black eyes, before she dodged away, flying backward. As the creature stepped forward into the light of the crossing guard¡¯s forgotten vest, a very new type of Nether Demon revealed itself. Type: Nether Demon. Level 83. Gooseflesh prickled up her arms. This one was no clone of hers. This demon did not resemble any human at all, in fact. It had to be the dark twisted manifestation of a creature from a very foreign planet. A planet like Eziroth, Momo imagined, studying its silhouette, which was curved and prickled, with horns and gills and webbed feet. It stomped along the floor on four legs, black drool dripping from its maw. It truly made Momo¡¯s demon look like a Happy Meal mascot in comparison. With a tea kettle hiss, the creature sprang upward, webbed feet once again unfurling blades and aiming for Momo¡¯s innards. She side-stepped, taking advantage of the Dexterity bonus [Focus] gave her, and cast that fluke-spell she had used on her twin, hoping it would work a second time. White mana pulsed from her fingertips. ¡°[Nether Demon ¨C Purify]!¡± The pure-white mana punched a hole straight through the demon. It cried out and scuttled around, looking like a frantic insect as the white aura began to spread like a disease throughout its entire body. It looked less like purification and more like an exorcism then, as the demon writhed and writhed until something finally clicked, or rather had been forcefully expelled, and it halted, seized, then laid flat on the ground. Momo carefully came to lord above it, feeling a bit guilty for performing what looked tantamount to torture. ¡°Are you alright?¡± she whispered. The creature, which had now developed eyes just as her Nether Demon had, blinked up at her. It did not seem to share her dark clone¡¯s talent for speech, but it nodded. Purification Complete Nether Demon (lvl. 83) ¡ª> Nether Demon (Purified Variant) (lvl. 83) Great, she thought, looking back at her still-drowsy clone-demon splayed out on the floor. Now she had two of these things. Purified even as they were, they were mounting up to be a lot of baggage. And she wasn¡¯t any closer to Valerica. Except¡ª an idea sprung. ¡°You guys are awfully talented at getting around the Nether,¡± Momo said, looking toward the now-docile demon. ¡°How do you do it? I sort of skipped out on the course material.¡± The demon opened its mouth and made that same tea kettle hissing sound. ¡°I can¡¯t understand you,¡± Momo said, pursing her lips. ¡°And as much as I¡¯d love to teach you the English language, I¡¯m kind of on a schedule. Maybe you can just show me?¡± The demon nodded again. It wobbled upward, balancing on its strange claws. Momo quickly hurried to hoist up her clone again, feeling like a kid with an unfairly heavy backpack as she watched the foreign demon begin to drag its claws along the surface of the Nether, creating a tear. She had seen this technique before. She could do the same with her hands or with her swords¡ªrupture the Nether briefly to create a rift portal. ¡°I know how to open the portal, but,¡± she leaned toward the creature, brushing up against its gills. They felt gross, oily. ¡°I don¡¯t know how to direct its destination.¡± After a moment, the creature nodded again, but still it continued with its ongoing action, using its slivers of metal to widen the tear in the Nether before shoving its oblong body through, like a slimy fish swimming between two jagged rocks. ¡°Wait¡­¡± Momo¡¯s mouth went agape. ¡°Where are you¡ª¡± Seeing no other option, she grabbed the rapidly disappearing tail of the creature and followed it through the rift. The fish analogy proved more correct than she could have known, because immediately she was flung into a speeding current. A substance that felt like thick oil rushed by her on all sides, and she was forced to close her eyes, her vision stinging. It was that same stinging sensation that she felt when the Nether Demon¡¯s drool had touched her bare nape¡ª like a raw wound exposed to hand sanitizer. Everything around her felt like numbing pain. With her mortal eyes forced closed, the pain too overwhelming, she used her third eye to see. It took no more than a mere moment to realize she¡ª rather, they¡ª were not alone in this furious stream. The speedway was inhabited by hundreds of thousands of noisy, groaning, screeching souls, like cars stuck in traffic on the freeway. The purified demon she was hanging onto was a single undulating body in an ocean of other foreign masses. Type: Nether Demon. Level 63. Type: Nether Demon. Level 125. Type: Nether Demon. Level 115. ¡­ Momo¡¯s chest constricted as her audio courier began to ramble off demon after demon. The realization filled her with equal parts fear and awe; this strange highway wasn¡¯t how typical souls got around the Nether. Which, she realized with a flush of embarrassment, of course it wasn¡¯t¡ª the average soul never left its replicant area. She knew that already. This, instead, was the dark undercurrent of the rapidly deteriorating afterlife. This was a place only demons frequented, a speedline from one ravaged destination to another. Turning onto her belly, she could see entrances to replicant areas pass above her at one second intervals, blinking like street lights at dusk. The Nether Demons were trying to claw themselves into these bubbles, and some managed, whereas others were repelled by a magical force that blasted them back. Just as Valerica had described, the sheer volume of demons was overwhelming. It made sense that replicant areas could only keep up their defenses for so long, and their walls had to be so frequently repaired. Claws were constantly digging, devilish nails gnawing into the feeble mana structures separating the safe afterlife from the demonic pests that lay on the periphery. The Nether was being utterly bombarded. Momo felt dread build in her stomach. Even if she could purify every soul lurching through this liminal chamber, hundreds more were multiplying at the second. The death of the Nether had been no exaggeration. This here¡ª the carnage laid out in front of her¡ª was no slow march toward the demise of the Nether. It was a full-speed car chase. Her stomach turned. She needed to find Valerica. With a groan, Momo fought against the current and climbed the soft body of the demon below her, bringing herself to what she hoped was its ear. ¡°I need you to bring me to the Vacant Edge!¡± 278 – Beating Heart On the Coffee Table The demon accommodated Momo¡¯s request like a true gentleman; which was to say that it recoiled, nearly spit her into the roaring current of teeth-gnashing monsters, and then surged upwards in a random direction. At least it appeared random until the white circle of light came into view above her. Nauseously she realized that it was an entrance¡ªone of the undercurrent¡¯s many one-way doors. And yet this door, oddly, was left quite alone by the demons. While they mindlessly clawed at popular destinations like Nether New York or Shibuya, the white wonderland that lay on the other side of this portal seemed unappetizing, like the last dish at a buffet. Momo theorized that it had something to do with the soul population within. Maybe Nether Demons were attracted to large crowds? It seemed like a fair analysis. Monsters, as far as the myths went, did tend to enjoy gobbling up as many innocents as possible. Then again, Momo had learned better than to assume demons in this universe would function anything like their Earthly mythological equivalents. It could be equally possible that they just hadn¡¯t ended up swimming in this direction. After all, she knew better than most that behavior is typically the product of laziness. Momo lived by that doctrine. The monster made its tea kettle noise again and looked at her with imploring, almost adorable eyes. Momo gave it a firm rub on the top of its oily gills and smiled. ¡°Thank you,¡± she whispered. Then, realizing it was about to follow her in, continued, ¡°I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s going to be safe for you in there. I think it¡¯s better if you wait here.¡± It blinked at her, uncertain. She worried her lip between her teeth, pitying it in return. To the demon, living life consciously, without being driven by a desire for unending meaningless consumption, must have been like waking up from a coma. ¡°Here.¡± She carefully peeled her own demon off her shoulders, handing it off to its newfound cousin. She smiled delicately. ¡°You two, learn to take care of eachother.¡± *** The Vacant Edge expanded before her like milk froth on the top of a coffee cup. The horizon was white and frilly, dotted every so often with small black clouds. She landed on one of those dark masses, finding a strangely placed coffee table sitting atop it. The coffee table was littered with mail; mail which spilled over onto the surface of the cloud, and trailed backward, toward a shimmering rift¡ª another scar in the Nether. Another portal? Was that where Valerica was hiding? She would investigate it, but not yet. Inspecting the top of the table, Momo found one letter of particular interest laid flat there. Her eyes widened as she skimmed the text. This was a notice of her death. She had been right¡ª Venice had played dirty. He¡¯d killed her in cold blood at the very moment where it was still possible. Her hands tightened into fists. That jerk. A jerk that still had her goddamn gerbil. She sighed, and untensed her muscles. Just as she was about to reluctantly head toward the tear in the Nether, a black flash of light blinded her. Something had emerged into the Vacant Edge, not from the secret chamber to her left, but from elsewhere. Momo¡¯s body went rigid as she expected the worst. The Nether Demons had finally arrived¡­ Instead, a long, dramatic sigh. ¡°By Morgana, that little devil was evasive. You would not believe the amount of hellfire I had to rinse him with until his body finally stopped moving.¡± The smoke cleared, and¡ª not a Nether Demon¡ª but Valerica appeared in its wake. The Lesser Goddess herself, dressed in a purple satin dress, her hair undone and disheveled atop her shoulders. In her right hand was a red, engorged, still-beating heart. In her left hand was a skeletal gerbil. Momo would have been otherwise overjoyed to see Biscuit in good health, but¡­ ¡°Valerica,¡± she gasped. ¡°Who did you kill?¡± ¡°Momo! I thought you were a cloud!¡± ¡°Why were you talking to a cloud¡ª?¡± If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. Valerica shut her up by enveloping Momo in a cold embrace. Not metaphorically cold, of course, but physically¡ª the woman was an icicle. ¡°No one, unfortunately. Believe me I tried,¡± she sighed, pulling back. She placed the heart on the table and didn¡¯t seem to care as its arteries bloodied the unopened envelopes. ¡°As you can see, the blasted thing is still beating. Kyros¡¯s doing, I suppose. The cat¡¯s put some aura of protection on it. I can¡¯t even pierce the thing with my fingernails.¡± Trying not to visualize Valerica bursting the organ with her acrylics, Momo turned away from the table and swallowed. ¡°I take it this belongs to Venice?¡± ¡°You¡¯d be correct. Equal and opposite punishment for what he did to your poor heart,¡± Valerica said, frowning as she cupped Momo¡¯s cheek affectionately. ¡°We¡¯re lucky he removed the gerbil here in the Nether, where time marches on so slowly. If he¡¯d done it down on Alois you would have been dead in minutes¡ª I was deeply serious when I said this little fiend is the only reason you can keep on chugging along.¡± Momo regarded the small creature, which was eyeing her with keen interest from Valerica¡¯s palm. He was rather stout for a gerbil, a consequence of his Tank class, Momo theorized. Staring at it, she found herself at a loss at how to thank a creature that had helped her so profoundly. She settled on taking one of its small hands into her own and shaking it gently. ¡°Thanks for keeping me alive, big guy. I know it must have been a lot of work.¡± Biscuit gnawed at her finger in reply. Valerica tsked at him. ¡°Naughty thing. No chewing on your master. Come now Momo, I¡¯m going to put him back inside of your chest cavity,¡± Valerica said, in a way that was way too nonchalant for the subject matter. ¡°Any more sitting around and he¡¯ll start biting. He yearns for the wheel.¡± Momo yelped and took a large step back. ¡°Wait. Now that I¡¯m a goddess, aren¡¯t I okay without him? I can transform into something with a functioning heart while I¡¯m on the mortal plane using [Death¡¯s Many Forms], and while I¡¯m here, I¡¯m safe.¡± ¡°I would not say you are safe, darling,¡± Valerica huffed. ¡°Any one of us is liable to be consumed by a Nether Demon at any given time. Even the gods themselves.¡± ¡°Well, sure. But a gerbil won¡¯t help defend me from that.¡± ¡°It wouldn¡¯t not help.¡± Momo put her hands on her hips. ¡°I have more than ten Intelligence points now. You can¡¯t stump me with double negatives.¡± Valerica was about to interrupt her again when Momo brashly continued, throwing up her hand. ¡°I¡¯m not putting the rodent back in my chest. It deserves to run at its own pace, on a nice big wheel, free-range. End of story.¡± Valerica opened her mouth, closed it, then gave Momo a broad smile. ¡°Alright, then, my goddess.¡± *** ¡°You know, we¡¯re finally colleagues now. Equals.¡± Valerica had cleared off the table, which meant shoving all the letters to the floor and watching as they descended into the white oblivion below. Momo had asked her if she was concerned about not responding to all that urgently labeled mail, to which she just laughed. She had then served them tea, two cups of steaming oolong, and offered Momo a seat. ¡°I guess you¡¯re right,¡± Momo said, blinking in disbelief. They were technically at the same rank now. Lesser Goddess and Lesser Goddess. ¡°It doesn¡¯t feel like it, though.¡± ¡°Doesn¡¯t it?¡± Valerica blew lightly on her tea. ¡°Why not?¡± Momo licked her lips, feeling suddenly very nervous. ¡°Because¡­¡± She clenched her hand around the stem of the teacup. Because I still don¡¯t know how to say no to you when it actually matters. ¡°Because I¡¯m sure you don¡¯t even flinch while you¡¯re tearing out some man¡¯s literal beating heart,¡± Momo said instead. ¡°And I can barely tolerate punching someone.¡± ¡°Oh please. You will get there eventually.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not sure I will.¡± Valerica smirked over her teacup. ¡°Don¡¯t be so sure. I never asked you if you thought you could become mayor of a city, then a queen of a country, then an all-powerful goddess¡ª all in the span of a few delicious months, by the way¡ª but I¡¯m sure if I asked you directly at the time it would have been a firm no. So. Underestimation is the poison of the soul.¡± ¡°Well, yes, but¡­¡± Momo shook her head. ¡°I actually wanted those things. Sort of. Kind of. Subliminally. I like solving problems for people. Making their days better and stuff like that. I¡¯m not sure I ever want to enjoy ripping a man¡¯s heart from his chest. That just doesn¡¯t¡ª well¡ª that doesn¡¯t do much for me. Personally.¡± Valerica¡¯s face fell unusually grim. ¡°And you think it does for me? You think I take enjoyment from that kind of thing?¡± Momo felt suddenly insane. ¡°No offense, but, don¡¯t you?¡± Valerica roared, breaking from her bit. ¡°Of course I do!¡± ¡°God. Don¡¯t frighten me like that. I was about to have an existential crisis about my ability to read people,¡± Momo mumbled, letting out a sigh of relief. ¡°You idiot.¡± ¡°Idiot? Oh darling, that¡¯s blasphemous.¡± ¡°Blasphemy masphemy.¡± ¡°Hmph. I could smite you for talking like that. Make the sky rain rats. Give you and your first born scabies.¡± ¡°And I¡¯d just do the same to you. Equal levels now, right?¡± ¡°Sure, you could. But you wouldn¡¯t. Because you¡¯re too nice. Oh, and you¡¯re too scared of me. I live in your nightmares. Well¨C I live in everyone¡¯s nightmares now, but yours especially. Isn¡¯t that right, darling?¡± Momo flushed, but refused to lose this proxy war. ¡°I¡¯ve met scarier people at the train station.¡± ¡°I highly doubt that, also¡­¡± Valerica pursed her lips. ¡°I haven¡¯t the faintest clue what a train station is.¡± At that¡ª the dam broke. Momo cackled. Valerica gave her a broad, beautiful, uninhibited smile; the kind where Momo could see her two canines peek out from over her bottom lip. And for a moment, they just felt like two people. Two simple, stupid people. ¡°So,¡± Valerica said, clapping her hands together and rising from her seat. ¡°Want to see where I¡¯m keeping the demons?" 279 – Slice of Heaven After they finished their tea, Valerica led Momo through that mysterious ripple in the Nether, speaking with poorly disguised aggravation as she said, ¡°Morgana was supposed to meet me¡ªus¡ªhere to rehearse, but it appears she still hasn¡¯t gotten out of bed. No matter. I was in charge of the first Dark Calamity, I¡¯m happy to usher in the second one.¡± Momo frowned. ¡°The second one? Isn¡¯t your intention to¡­ end the war, not start a new one?¡± ¡°Two sides of the same coin.¡± ¡°Valerica, I¡¯m begging you not to speak in metaphors just this one time.¡± As they stepped through the rift, a new environment slowly revealed itself. Like origami, the edges of the Nether began unfolding into a wide open space. Momo was surprised to feel something soft under her clogs as she padded into this new domain. Her feet sank subtly into the puddy-like ground, which smelled earthy and fresh, like recently plowed soil. As the Nether unfurled itself, a wide green field rapidly expanded around them, painted gold by a dawning sun. Dramatic mountain peaks rose up in the distance, hugged by white cherubic clouds. Replicant Area #AB00009 ¡°Little Slice of Heaven¡± The System¡¯s description was just about right. But misery loomed over the field like a bad cold. Milling around the farmland, as if lost in a drug-induced daze, were dozens upon dozens of nether demons. They were chained at the wrists and at the ankles with what looked like mana-depleting handcuffs. Some of the demons, upon encountering another, would snap aggressively like an agitated hound. Others would whine and cry and collapse into huddled positions, bent over in the grass. What they all had in common was a sense of overwhelming malaise¡ªan exhausted desperation with no outlet. ¡°Really, I¡¯m not trying to be purposefully obtuse, darling,¡± Valerica continued. She turned back to face Momo and offered her a shrug. ¡°It¡¯s just the truth. The end of one person¡¯s war is the start of another¡¯s. Times of peace are a great time to accrue weaponry.¡± Momo¡¯s jaw went slack. The sight of Valerica, all elegance in her satin gown, shrugging so casually as a scene of absolute misery churned behind her, made her stomach shift uncomfortably. She was reminded of something Viktor Mole said to her a long time ago, upon their first meeting. A warning he had given her. She might seem charismatic, friendly, beautiful¡­ But it¡¯s a carefully constructed ruse to get what she wants. At the end of the day, she is evil incarnate. Even a broken clock was right once a day, Momo supposed. ¡°I see,¡± she said, a low, sinking feeling in her stomach. ¡°So this is you¡­ accruing weaponry?¡± ¡°Precisely.¡± ¡°To start a new war.¡± Valerica huffed. ¡°To start and end one, concisely, in the same breath,¡± she said, then added cheekily, ¡°I will have to dream up new enemies once the Nether Demons eat my current ones.¡± Momo laughed uncomfortably. She wasn¡¯t ready to push the topic further yet, so she settled on finding out more information. She still had so many unanswered questions. Starting with¡ª¡°How are you keeping them like this? All¡­ docile?¡± Valerica clapped her hands together, obviously eager to talk about it. ¡°Oh. Just one of my marvelous new nightmare domain spells. [Daze of the Nightwalker],¡± Valerica exclaimed proudly. ¡°It lets me put creatures in a sort of dreamlike stupor. Technically they don¡¯t lose any of their abilities, but they¡¯re rendered so incapacitated that it doesn¡¯t matter. As soon as I remove the effect, it¡¯ll be just like taking off a blindfold.¡± ¡°That¡¯s¡­ horrifying,¡± Momo confessed. How was Valerica surprised that Momo was still terrified of her? ¡°Is there no way to escape the spell?¡± Valerica tapped her chin, strolling up to one of the demons. Momo felt a jerk of pity as the demon hissed, snapping its maw at the air but nowhere near Valerica. It clearly sensed the presence of danger, but it was unable to pinpoint the exact coordinates. Momo imagined it felt like a hazy form of sleep paralysis. Again, horrifying. ¡°If the creature has a sufficient number of Intelligence points, perhaps. But these things are all raw passion. They run purely on Strength and Dexterity, as far as I can tell. They can¡¯t even produce speech, let alone realize they¡¯re dreaming and overcome that hallucination.¡± Momo watched as Valerica glided her hand around the demon¡¯s face, demonstrating its complete lack of coordination as it failed time and time again to strike her. The poor things, Momo thought. They didn¡¯t deserve this. ¡°The demons can produce speech, you know,¡± she interjected. ¡°If you teach it to them.¡± Valerica''s eyes snapped to her curiously. ¡°Is that so?¡± Momo saw in her gaze a brief preview of the Valerica she had first fallen for. The same one that had viewed her as a creature who needed tending, once upon a time. ¡°Yeah. I came across one in the onboarding, and I was able to actually teach it a few words. After I purified it, it was even able to construct sentences. I think they¡¯re smarter than you¡¯re giving them credit for. At least¡ªwith enough time and patience.¡± ¡°Purified it? Whatever do you mean?¡± ¡°Oh. It¡¯s¡­ a spell I constructed. To transform them.¡± Valerica¡¯s eyes widened. She leaned in closer, eyes turning crimson. ¡°A spell you¡­ constructed? Momo, that¡¯s¡­ incredible! Who knew you had the talent for that!¡± Momo flushed at the compliment. ¡°And what a relief that you do,¡± Valerica said, sighing. ¡°My backup plan was horrendous. But seeing as you can transform them into your own personal minions¡ª¡± Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. ¡°Oh, that¡¯s not exactly what the spell is for¡ª¡± ¡°¡ªThen we¡¯ll have no issue directing them to eat the gods.¡± Momo blinked, words dying in her throat. This of course wasn¡¯t the first time she was hearing of the plan, but it was the first time she was hearing it directly from Valerica¡¯s lips. Confirming that she was, indeed, intending to feed the pantheon to a bunch of demons. Cold-blooded, premeditated murder of every god in existence outside Morgana, Momo, and herself. It was as simple as that. So simple that Momo refused to dwell on it, and instead continued stepping around the periphery of the conversation. ¡°So you¡¯re intending to lure the gods here, then? To this¡­.¡± ¡°Little Slice Of Heaven,¡± Valerica grinned. ¡°I mean it¡¯s a lovely venue for a massacre, isn¡¯t it? Beautiful weather, nice mountains¡­ I¡¯ll have the nether demons stored away somewhere else when the guests arrive, of course. Can¡¯t have their ugly little heads taking away from the scenery. But once all the gods have made their entrance, I¡¯ll cast [Daze of the Nightwalker] on them, you¡¯ll unleash the demons, and then we¡¯ll make our swift exit mid-mayhem.¡± Momo¡¯s brow creased. Don¡¯t get emotional, she reminded herself. Focus on the details. Understand the plan. ¡°Will the nightmare spell really work on the gods, though?¡± she asked. ¡°Isn¡¯t it intended to be used on mortals?¡± Valerica hummed thoughtfully. ¡°It¡¯s a God-level spell, so I¡¯m betting that the Intelligence requirement to dispel it is high enough that it will work on the gods present at the funeral, at least for a few crucial seconds.¡± Valerica paused, chewing on the inside of her cheek as she continued with a bit of uncertainty, ¡°A few seconds should be all I need.¡± ¡°Really? If the gods wake up after only a few seconds from the haze, is that really enough time for your plan to work? Won¡¯t it take longer than that for the demons to cannibalize literal¡­ deities?¡± ¡°Bright and skeptical as always,¡± Valerica said, reaching out to pat Momo¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Indeed, they won¡¯t be consumed immediately. But they will have nowhere to go. A few seconds will be all I need to get me, you, and Morgana safely outside the bubble, and lock the replicant area. If you recall, I am the singular Nether technician¡ªplumber¡ªhowever you¡¯d like to call it. In the same way that I successfully barred the gods from leaving the Nether, I believe I can lock them inside this area just the same.¡± Momo perked up, eyebrows flying upward. That¡ªthat was an opportunity. ¡°Valerica, if you can seal them in here for as long as you want, why don¡¯t we just¡­ do that? Lure them here, cast the nightmare spell, and then leave them to their devices until they¡ª they see reason, or something? That might be our way of settling this peacefully. Instead of just destroying them all before we¡¯ve even given them the chance to redeem themselves. The chance to have an honest conversation¡ª¡± ¡°Momo, I¡­¡± Valerica¡¯s smile faltered. ¡°You know I adore you for your optimism. But Morgana has given those sorry fools every chance to redeem themselves. They refuse to. Prolonging their existence is no better than letting the wound fester.¡± Momo¡¯s hands tightened to fists. A quiet anger had begun to molder in her stomach. ¡°But these are people, Valerica. Not festering wounds,¡± Momo mumbled. ¡°They¡¯re real people. Even if they¡¯ve caused a lot¡ª yes, a lot¡ª of undue suffering for a lot of people, myself included, stooping to their level makes us no better than them. Do we really want to start a new era of this universe built on the back of a massacre?¡± Valerica¡¯s lip twitched. ¡°Violence cannot always be avoided, dear. Some is necessary.¡± ¡°There¡¯s a difference between violence and killing the gods.¡± Valerica gave her a look that chilled Momo to the bone. ¡°You haven¡¯t been around Morgana all this time, Momo,¡± she said, voice as cold and shallow as Momo had ever heard it. ¡°She is¡ª her soul chain¡ª she is withering away.¡± Momo¡¯s heart stung, and her voice shivered as she said, ¡°And I don¡¯t think¡ªno, look, I know killing the gods won¡¯t fix that. Morgana made the gods, Valerica. She made Kyros to be her friend. Her first ever friend! Kyros was who taught her how to care for something outside of herself. How to love something. She¡¯s just¡ª experiencing what it is to be hurt by someone you love. She doesn¡¯t know how to deal with it.¡± Valerica looked injured by that, wincing. She crossed her arms defiantly. ¡°She does know. She just refuses to. If there ever was true love there, it was soured by his betrayal.¡± ¡°Soured, sure, but not gone,¡± Momo insisted. ¡°And for as long as they stay in opposition like this, nothing is going to change. You can¡¯t make Morgana happy by killing her enemies.¡± ¡°But why not?¡± Valerica screamed. As the words left her lips, a torrent of black fire spat into the air. Momo could barely react fast enough, burning pain spreading across her right arm as the fire whipped past it and into the fields, turning the beautiful green grass behind her black as soot. Realizing what she¡¯d accidentally released, Valerica gave her a brief, apologetic look as Momo hugged the burnt limb to her body, but Valerica was still furious, her eyes burning the brightest red Momo had ever witnessed. She knew those crimson orbs were supposed to evoke terror, but Momo saw nothing but a hurt, feral animal. A fox sitting in a trap. ¡°Valerica¡­¡± Momo whispered, stepping toward her. She ignored the flaring pain in her arm. It would fade with time. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I didn¡¯t mean to make you upset.¡± For every step Momo took toward her, Valerica took a step back. She uncaringly elbowed through the confused demons, biting down on her wobbling lip. ¡°I am not upset. I am¡ª I am indignant. You do not know Morgana like I do, Momo. You have known her for but a moment. I have known her my entire life. Ever since I was a child, an exile from my village, on the road at nine years old, I¡¯ve known Morgana. Kyros be damned, she was my first friend,¡± Valerica spat. ¡°She taught me everything I know. She taught me everything that I taught you. That when people make us feel small, we step on them with our heel, and squash them like insects. Then we build a better world off their cracked spines. It¡¯s simple. It works.¡± Valerica¡¯s entire body was trembling, and with an exasperated huff, she began to float off the ground, green smoke coalescing by her feet and propelling her upward. Momo flourished her wings, intending to follow her as far as she¡¯d go, to the heavens and beyond. ¡°That¡¯s not what you taught me,¡± Momo shouted as they rose. ¡°Momo, don¡¯t insult my intelligence,¡± Valerica scowled. ¡°It is what I taught you.¡± Momo shook her head. The wind rushed past, but she screamed over it. ¡°Sometimes people teach us different things with their actions than their words.¡± ¡°Oh, do they?¡± Valerica spat. ¡°And what did I teach you, then?¡± Momo flew upward, following Valerica¡¯s ascent. They began to spiral higher and higher, over treetops, then mountain peaks, before finally soaring through puffs of white and circling the tops of the clouds. The whole time Momo could feel Valerica burying further into herself, her arms wrapping around her middle, the green smoke coalescing around her like a protective shield. She had never seen her so withdrawn. This far up, the air was as cold as ice. It chilled the burn on her arm, numbing her entire body. It also took some of the fire out of both their sails, hitting like cinder blocks on their lungs, and Valerica came to a slow halt in the air, chest heaving up and down. Momo took the opportunity to close the distance between them, snatching Valerica¡¯s hand into her own. ¡°When you spared Nia, when you spared Vivienne, when you spared Sera,¡± Momo said, squeezing her ice cold hand, refusing to let go even as Valerica tried to escape her grip. ¡°You taught me mercy. When I watched you care for each member of Morgana¡¯s Dawn like they were all your own strange, smelly, heliophobic children, you taught me responsibility. Duty. Leadership. When you took me in, you showed me that anything¡ªanyone¡ªcan blossom when they are believed in. You showed me love, Valerica. Unconditionally.¡± Valerica¡¯s hand fell limp in Momo¡¯s own. She stopped trying to claw it away. Behind her, the sun wrapped around Valerica¡¯s back like a glowing halo, outlining her silhouette. The green smoke began to dissipate, like a snake shedding its skin. In its absence, Momo could see the remnants of tears streaking down Valerica¡¯s cheeks, leaving two wet lines on her deadly pale face. Below her furrowed brows, the woman¡¯s red eyes had turned green again. Fury had quieted into something like sadness. The only sound for a moment was the wind. Valerica¡¯s arms went limp by her sides. She choked out a sob. ¡°Then why isn¡¯t that enough for Morgana?¡± Momo felt all the rage in her chest die. Viktor¡¯s prophecies be damned. ¡°Oh, Valerica,¡± she whispered, surged forward, and took the other goddess in her arms. *** Far below, unbeknownst to both of them, Valerica had let her control slip. The Nightwalker¡¯s Daze began to slowly lift, and the demons¡¯ necks snapped upward, spotting in the sky¡ªtheir captor. 280 – Domain Switch The wind whistled and white clouds streaked by as the two goddesses embraced. Equals, for the first time, even in height, with Valerica¡¯s head buried into Momo¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Gods,¡± Valerica said, laughing coldly as she withdrew her head many long moments later. Her hair was mussed, her eyeliner dripping. ¡°Would you look at that. How humiliating.¡± Momo leaned back to get a good look at her, shaking her head instinctively. ¡°Having emotions isn¡¯t humiliating.¡± ¡°Oh, not that, darling.¡± Valerica wiped her fingers beneath her eyes, her hand coming back black with makeup. ¡°I have no issue with shedding a few bodily fluids. I was only referring to the fact that I am about to die with my face in such a state.¡± Momo looked at her in alarm, but the other woman¡¯s face revealed nothing. ¡°It¡¯s really a shame,¡± she said. Valerica flourished her hand delicately upward, green magic curling around her fingertips. Her somber smile had begun to grow into a fully-fledged one, all teeth, with her sharp canines peeking out. ¡°I always dreamed of rotting away beautifully, under some tree, covered in mold and moss. But perhaps being consumed¡ªdevoured¡ªis an even more gorgeous metaphor. Oh, what a delight!¡± The wind seemed to whistle even louder suddenly. ¡°Valerica,¡± she said, reaching out to grab her wrist. ¡°What the hell are you talking about¡ª¡± ¡°We have visitors!¡± Valerica laughed maniacally. ¡°I call on Morgana to switch my domain!¡± It was only at that moment that Momo finally craned her head downward, seeing for the first time the enormous, undulating black mass that was rising from below. It was not one single massive creature, not a cloud titan or a dragon, but hundreds of disparate heads and bodies and blackened limbs. It had not been the wind hissing at all¡ªbut hundreds of simultaneous animal cries, singing together in a freakish chorus. Type: Nether Demon. Level 170. Type: Nether Demon. Level 152. Type: Nether Demon. Level 89. ¡­ Momo¡¯s mind went utterly blank. The demons were coming too fast for her to react; the threat was simply too massive. What spell could she even use? Nearly all her magic was made of Nether. Would it even harm them? She doubted it. She had managed to evade her own nether demon with nothing but quick reflexes, but she couldn¡¯t dodge her way out of a monster tsunami. Before another thought could cross her mind, they were upon her. A black hand clawed around Momo¡¯s ankle. Then another. Their fingers felt like flaming matches, Momo¡¯s skin burning with the intensity of the sun. Certain death had arrived, and she was out of time. ¡°[Protect from the Elements],¡± Valerica yelled, then followed with, ¡°[Acid Rain]!¡± Momo felt an overwhelming numbness flow from where her hand was wrapped around Valerica¡¯s wrist, and quickly spread throughout the rest of her body, gooseflesh prickling across her neck and down her legs. The only sensation she could still feel was the burning around her ankles. But that didn¡¯t last much longer, as Valerica¡¯s green mist congealed above them into a cloud-like form, and hundreds of acidic green droplets sprayed down onto them, burning holes straight through the demons. The torso of whatever creature had wrapped itself around her legs was promptly severed from its arms, and its fingers unclenched soon after. Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. Their bodies rapidly dissolving, the creatures violently dispersed. They went from traveling in a tight pack, each demon nearly indecipherable from the next, to hovering in disarray at the periphery of the acid rain, which sprayed down in one long cylinder. The rain served as a temporary shield for Valerica and Momo, as none of the creatures dared come near it. ¡°Huh. I didn¡¯t expect that to work,¡± Valerica said, turning to her. She had a wide, devilish smile on her face. Not the kind you¡¯d expect from someone who was fending off imminent demise. ¡°But it appears it¡¯s only a temporary fix. Their limbs are already growing back.¡± Indeed, right in front of Momo was the very creature that had been searing the skin off her ankles, and sprouting from its shoulders were two little black stubs, quickly reforming themselves into proper appendages. Momo noticed that behind the creatures, the mountains had begun to darken. The trees on them had gone bare, all of their leaves gone. ¡°They¡¯re eating the environment,¡± Momo said, more of a question than a declaration as she looked towards Valerica. ¡°Devouring the nether inside this place to rebuild themselves.¡± ¡°Ooh, so astute!¡± Valerica said, clapping her hands. ¡°Well observed.¡± Momo grimaced. She did not feel astute. Hundreds of blank, eyeless faces were hissing and screaming at her, clawing at the air. No, she felt terrified, and more importantly, confused. ¡°Why can these ones fly?¡± she asked. ¡°The demon I met in my onboarding couldn¡¯t fly.¡± ¡°Ah. Well that one¡¯s easy. The onboarding dungeon has different rules than the rest of the Nether,¡± Valerica replied, her hand rigid in the air to uphold the [Acid Rain] spell. It seemed to be one of the spells that required ongoing concentration to keep active. ¡°It was most likely suppressing the majority of your demon friend¡¯s powers.¡± ¡°Oh. Fun.¡± Momo did not like the idea that the demon she fought in onboarding was a heavily suppressed version of the real thing. ¡°How long can you keep that spell going for?¡± ¡°For quite a while, I presume,¡± Valerica said, gazing up as green liquid drenched her hair. If it wasn¡¯t for the elemental protection spell she had cast, neither of them would likely have any hair left at all. Or skin. ¡°But the fact that I¡¯m able to fend them off so easily is plowing quite a few unpleasant holes through my devouring-the-gods plan.¡± ¡°And thank god it is,¡± Momo muttered. ¡°I suppose you¡¯re right,¡± Valerica sighed. ¡°I really do need to stop relying so heavily on sending a horde of monsters to do my dirty work. It didn¡¯t work for Sera during the first Calamity. Why would it work now?¡± Momo wasn¡¯t listening. As always during Valerica¡¯s soliloquies, there were bigger fish to fry. ¡°We need to get out of here. I¡¯m going to open a rift portal,¡± Momo said, already looking down at her hands. She had used them to open one once, she could do it again. ¡°About that¡­¡± Valerica gave her a guilty glance. Momo did not like the look of it. ¡°I sort of designed this area so that you can only enter and leave through one exit: the rift that connects it to the Vacant Edge. Nether demons have an annoying tendency to create rift portals even when they¡¯re incapacitated¡ªit¡¯s second nature to them, since they can open them by chewing on the Nether like it¡¯s an after-dinner snack¡ªso I was forced to take that precaution. Without it, they would have escaped.¡± Momo groaned. ¡°Crap.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t get down on yourself, darling. First ideas are never the best ones.¡± ¡°That would be fine if I had a second one.¡± Valerica tilted her eyebrow up. Momo blew out a breath. She¡¯s right. Just focus. Squinting, Momo drew a path in her mind from the clouds back down to where they had emerged onto the fields. The portal was so far away she couldn¡¯t actually see it, but she knew roughly where it was. If they dove toward it with enough speed, they could probably outrun the demons. Maybe. Momo had seen just how quickly they had ascended to their location. She wasn¡¯t confident that the demons¡¯ were actually slower than them. They were very¡­ aerodynamic. ¡°Once we go through the rift portal to the Vacant Edge¡­¡± Momo began, turning to Valerica. A shiver went down her spine when she made eye contact with the blank face of the demon lurking right behind her. Its mouth was open and drooling. ¡°Can we close it behind us?¡± Valerica nodded. ¡°I believe so. A few demons might escape behind us, but the rift portal can¡¯t fit all of them.¡± ¡°Okay,¡± Momo breathed, cracking her knuckles. ¡°Can you keep the acid rain effect going above us as we fly toward the portal?¡± ¡°Well, no.¡± Momo¡¯s lips fell. ¡°No?¡± ¡°I fear this spell has a cooldown of one Nether week, darling.¡± Valerica smiled tightly. ¡°As soon as I stop maintaining it, I won¡¯t be able to cast it again.¡± ¡°Oh, of course.¡± Momo was starting to understand why Morgana decided to throw in the towel. Being a god required so much patience. ¡°Why are these cooldowns so long?!¡± ¡°God spells are very powerful. If one could fling them around with such ease, then Kyros would have cooked Alois to smithereens already.¡± Momo frowned, remembering the current state of her queendom. She prayed Sumire was faring better than she was. ¡°Okay,¡± Momo said, taking a steady breath in. ¡°Plan C, then.¡± Valerica grinned, delighted. ¡°Which is?¡± ¡°We fly¡­¡± Momo rolled up her sleeves. ¡°As fast as physically possible.¡± 281 – Beyond the Rift Surrounded on all sides by drooling demons, Momo said a prayer. Which of course, she quickly realized, was stupid. Any god that might have been listening most likely¡ªno, most certainly¡ªwanted her dead. So. She stopped that nonsense, and dove for it. Valerica¡¯s hand was wrapped around her own as they plummeted. Given the circle of protection they were afforded by the acid rain, soaring directly downward was the safest way to begin their descent. The flying maneuver only became dangerous once they curved in the air and left their little bubble of protection. This was an unfortunate inevitability, since the rift portal was to the north, through the clouds and past several patches of trees, far beyond their current position. So, they descended like two hawks in free fall. Just as the sleeve of Momo¡¯s shirt grazed the ground, she flattened her body and let her wings catch air, shooting out of the rain cloud¡¯s sphere of protection and speeding with a crackling velocity toward the rift. The demons took notice of their new path immediately, screeching in unison before twisting their bodies in the air and diving behind them. Black talons, claws and teeth gnashed like churning gears as Momo and Valerica¡¯s bodies skidded along the fields. Risking a glance backward, Momo realized that she was moving far quicker than Valerica. The other goddess¡¯s green streams of air functioned more like a jetpack than actual wings, causing her to swerve back and forth in the air. ¡°They¡¯re nearly on you!¡± Momo shouted. Craning her neck took a few milliseconds off Momo¡¯s speed, but it was worth it to give Valerica the warning. One of the demons almost had its tendrils around the goddess¡¯s leg. In one swift motion, Valerica fired off three green icicle-shaped projectiles, slicing the monster¡¯s hands. The creature¡¯s screams echoed throughout the valley as it crashed into the demons behind it, slowing the entire mob. Momo¡¯s eyebrows shot up. She let out a shocked laugh. ¡°Good shot!¡± ¡°Thank you, darling,¡± Valerica said, followed quickly by, ¡°Oh shoot. Duck!¡± Momo instinctively looked up, only to be met by the sight of hundreds of sharp, glinting teeth above her. Without hesitation, she followed Valerica¡¯s instructions and pitched downward into the grass, narrowly avoiding the massive, acidic icicle that pierced through the monster¡¯s head above her. Momo went to cheer again, but she misjudged her distance to the ground. Her elbow hit the dirt, sending her into a wild tumble. She flipped violently, shoulders crashing into the weeds as she rolled across the fertile earth. When she finally skidded to a stop, two demons were already upon her, fangs brandished. There¡¯s only two, she thought, blood pumping in her ears. Few enough that she could reasonably purify them, but that would require pressing her hand to them, and getting that close seemed like a death sentence. So, going purely on instinct, Momo summoned her rapiers, finding comfort in the heft of the swords in her hands as the demons closed in on her. She readied herself in a defensive stance, thinking back to her duels with Nia, when the thought occurred to her¡­ Kezko¡¯s mana gem. I can cast any spell with my swords that I can with my hands. The first demon snarled, then swooped in. Even amongst the demons, it was a large one, nearly double her size. Using that size difference against it, she ducked, and pierced the creature straight through the middle. The Nether rapier glided through its midsection like oil through water; the creature¡¯s body folded around the wound like puddy, allowing just enough space for the blade to fit in before snapping back into place when Momo withdrew the sword. Well, that¡¯s evidence enough. Her theory had been correct: the swords¡ªmade of Nether themselves¡ªwould do no damage on their own. Luckily, that didn¡¯t matter. It had only been a test. The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. She dodged to the side as the large demon¡¯s claws streaked past her. Taking advantage of its colossal momentum, she sidestepped behind it, and speared it straight through its hunched back. ¡°[Nether Demon ¨C Purify]!¡± White light emanated from the tip of the sword, pulsing once before exploding outwards. She could see through the demon¡¯s translucent skin as the purifying magic traced across black veins, illuminating the creature like a light bulb from the inside. Two eyes began to carve themselves into rubbery flesh, and Momo observed the mere millisecond it took for sentience to overtake this ghoulish creature of impulse, transforming it from a rabid zombie to a hapless, blinking child. It was¡ª god. Momo¡¯s eyes watered. It was gorgeous. Like watching creation itself. A sharp, awful pain just below her ribs turned that brief bliss into torture. She had been so caught up in the first demon that she had forgotten all about its sidekick. The other demon was a smaller, more demure one, almost rodentlike, with tendrils emerging from its snout that mimicked whiskers. It had bitten her in the stomach, latched its fist-sized teeth into her side. Crying out, she attempted to slash into its neck with her rapier and send out another purifying pulse, but the creature overpowered her. It straddled her on the ground, its small skeleton masking a huge weight that kept her pressed into the dirt. ¡°Damn it,¡± she hissed, feeling blood leaking out of her. She was missing part of her side now. She didn¡¯t have to put her hand there to feel it; this was like the onboarding all over again. Only this time her wrists were pressed to the dirt, fixed in place by the monster¡¯s gigantic rubbery fingers, and her sword had skidded far into the grass. Drool globbed onto her face from above, and an unfamiliar terror consumed her as death¡¯s messy, sloppy kiss approached. That was until a screeching white giant barreled into the demon¡¯s side, pushing it off of Momo. No longer restricted, she scrambled upright, watching as the purified demon laid hit after hit on the oversized rodent. Every subsequent punch from the giant had an unexpected effect¡ªthe white magic seemed to seep into the other demon, purifying it without Momo¡¯s intervention. ¡°Oh my god,¡± she whispered. Could I use that against them? Before Momo could properly digest what was happening, Valerica soared in, trailed by a blazing troupe of demons. Their bodies were in structural disarray after being pelted by a hundred acidic projectiles. It was like they had been the victim of some sort of explosive shrapnel. Their moods matched what would be expected from that sort of incident¡ªextremely dour, and deservedly bloodthirsty. Momo turned to Valerica and took her by the shoulders, reeling from the blood loss. ¡°Less¡ªgo,¡± she mumble-yelled. With the white giant standing guard behind them, the two of them ran hand and hand through the grass. Momo kept her hand pressed to her side, feeling numbness climb up her torso as blood covered her fingers. Behind her, the horde of demons came bursting across the rollicking fields. She imagined it looked a lot like David and Goliath, only Goliath was the good guy, and David was a mass of murderous, physically personified remnants of god-trauma. Between fuzzy blinks, Momo could see the rift appear in front of them. It was shuttering in and out of space only a few feet away. Her feet felt extremely heavy as they padded through the grass, and with every subsequent second, more weight seemed to fall upon them. It was as if the entire universe was weighing upon her shoulders; she was a modern Atlas, climbing not a hill, but a flat expanse of green weed, pushing not a rock¡ªbut her very own legs, like two bags of sand. Faintly, she heard Valerica call, ¡°We¡¯re close, darling! Don¡¯t die on me!¡± With one strangled breath, Momo forced her head through the portal. *** When she came to, many minutes or perhaps hours later, Momo¡¯s fingers dug into a delicate, humid softness below her. Not soil, but¡ªunmistakably¡ªa cloud. She had made it to the Vacant Edge. Her ears were ringing, and a piece of parchment was covering both her eyes. With a groan, she peeled it off of her, and craned her neck to the side. Valerica was lying beside her, eyes still closed. They were alone. Not a soul had followed them through the rip. She felt a pang of gratitude for the purified giant that had protected their exit. She hoped he was alright on the other side. Taking a deep breath in, she raised the piece of parchment up to look at it. Praise Be! You have gained a level in Lesser Goddess [Domain: Reaping] ERROR! You have not completed a Reaping. New skills cannot be acquired at this time. Solution found ¡­ Reaping Domain Activated¡­ LOCATION: EARTH, CURRENT DAY TARGET: SOUL #1284_0B (RichardSmith) [QUEST ASSIGNED] [RIFT OPENING] 282 – Dragon Lotus NEW QUEST [YOUR FIRST REAPING] ¡°Richard¡­ Smith?¡± Those were the last words Momo spoke before the coffee table in front of her promptly fell out of existence. Her mouth agape, she watched as the Nether unstitched itself before her, consuming first Valerica¡¯s beloved table, then her two comfy stools, three Dutch-blue tea cups, a giant heap of Morgana¡¯s unopened mail, and then finally, the nearby cupboard. Momo crawled frantically backward as the sinkhole set its sights on her. She slapped the side of Valerica¡¯s face, briefly panicking at how cold her cheek was before remembering that this was, in fact, Valerica, and she was always the temperature of a glacier. The other woman groaned before her eyes lazily fluttered open. Momo tugged at her sleeve. ¡°Get up! Get up!¡± ¡°Darling, please keep it down. I have such a headache. Major mana hangover.¡± ¡°The floor is trying to eat us, Valerica!¡± ¡°That is a common enough occurrence here that it doesn¡¯t require raising your voice.¡± Momo¡¯s feet dipped beneath her, and she yelped. The hole was up to her ankles now. Actually, ¡®hole¡¯ might have been a misnomer, because it was most definitely a rift; Momo could see an entirely new world unfold blurrily on the other side of it: blue skies, white clouds, and what looked like the San Francisco skyline rendered in the style of an Impasto painting, splotchy radiant blues and greens constructing skyscrapers and seagulls and city streets. San Francisco? No. Was she really seeing that correctly? This was not the time for a homecoming. She had been planning on visiting her parents eventually of course. She wasn¡¯t a total degenerate. She was just planning to do it in like¡­ a few centuries. Maybe two, tops. When her parents were finally old enough that they could hopefully no longer see, hear, or generally remember her. Ok, yes. It was embarrassing, but she had developed an entire fantasy around it. It went something like this: she¡¯d find out the location of their nursing home, politely sedate one of the nurses and steal their uniform (like in the movies), make sure that her parents were still breathing¡ªand that her little brother hadn¡¯t accidentally killed himself¡ªand then carefully, politely, silently make her exit before they had the chance to get a good look at her. It was a foolproof plan. One that minimized any unwanted emotional crises. ¡°Ah. I see,¡± Valerica said. Momo had failed to notice that the other woman was now floating beside her, arms crossed apathetically as she watched the rift consume most of the room. ¡°You¡¯re being called for your first reaping. Not the finest timing, but when duty calls¡­¡± Momo¡¯s face was flushed with panic. ¡°My first what?¡± ¡°Reaping,¡± Valerica clarified helpfully. Momo flew up to join her, watching as two more bookshelves fell through the ever-expanding orifice. ¡°It¡¯s good you get it done now. Seeing as you haven¡¯t completed your initial domain quest, I imagine you¡¯ve only received a very small sample of your godly powers. A spell or two at most. If you have any hopes of solving our Kyros issue without a hundred-demon army, your full godly repertoire is quite critical to have. Also.¡± Valerica grabbed her suddenly by the shoulders. ¡°As wonderful as it has been to watch you grow into the wicked woman you are today.¡± Valerica smiled widely. ¡°I think it¡¯s time you let your other family see that progress, hm?¡± Before Momo could muster a complaint, Valerica seized her by the shoulders and hurled her into the rift. Momo barely had time to shriek in protest as she was sucked through the swirling vortex, the fabric of reality warping and twisting around her. She felt weightless for a terrifying moment, and then gravity took hold with a vengeance. The next thing she knew, she was plummeting through the sky like she¡¯d been thrown from a plane, the world spinning violently around her. She landed with a bone-rattling thud on what remained of Valerica¡¯s coffee table. The wind was fully knocked out of her, and she took several staccato breaths before she could fully inflate her lungs again. As she struggled to breathe, the harsh scent of old grease and discarded food scraps filled her nose. It was definitely not a pleasant scent, but at the same time it was vaguely¡­ comforting? Like a hug from an overzealous relative. Even without tasting it, she recognized those flavors. Groaning, she carefully stood up, wiping a greasy noodle off her leg. She stepped through crushed cans and soggy takeout containers until she caught sight of a neon sign flickering above her. It was an old, battered thing, with faded red and green tubes that buzzed faintly as they struggled to stay lit. The sign depicted a stylized dragon coiled around the restaurant name¡ª"Dragon Lotus.¡± ¡°Chinese food,¡± Momo nearly cried out. Life¡¯s greatest pleasure. She¡¯d been so utterly deprived of it. Valerica was right¡ªpartially. (As it always went. If Valerica was ever completely right, that was very bad news.) Indeed, it was time for Momo to return to Earth. But not for some silly, inconsequential reason like addressing her deep seated familial issues. No. She was about to absolutely gorge herself. Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. But first, an appraisal of her situation: the restaurant¡¯s back alley was dimly lit, narrow, and stifling, with steam billowing out from a nearby vent. Above her, the clattering sounds of a bustling kitchen filled the air, chefs shouting orders in rapid-fire Mandarin. It was a far cry from the grand entrance she might have imagined for her trip back to Earth, but then again, she was never one for grand entrances. Smelling like day-old udon was actually a substantial upgrade from landing in a pile of ancient hay and rat-piss. Sorry, Morgana¡¯s Dawn. Momo gingerly stepped around the debris, startled as the restaurant¡¯s back door swung open, and a harried-looking waiter emerged, tossing another bag of trash into the already overflowing dumpster. He glanced at Momo for a brief second, blinked, and then went back inside without a word. Clearly, a woman standing in the middle of a demolished coffee table wasn¡¯t the strangest thing he¡¯d seen today. She was grateful that at the very least the giant hip-wound the nether demon had inflicted on her had stitched itself closed. Dumpster loitering was one thing, bleeding out onto someone¡¯s garbage was another. A soft chime echoed in Momo''s mind. A notification popped up in her vision, startling her. RICHARD SMITH AGE: 54 12 DAYS:13 HOURS:15 MINUTES:2 SECONDS PERSONAL NOTES: Smith is afraid of: balloons, small children, weddings. Smith is comforted by: money, penthouse suites, lasagna. It took Momo a moment to parse what she was looking at, until the realization dawned on her. That countdown¡­ it was a death clock¡ªRichard Smith¡¯s death clock, to be precise. It ticked down ominously, the seconds steadily decreasing. Her eyes widened as she noticed a glowing, ethereal chain connected to the ticking clock, leading somewhere into the distance. It was Richard¡¯s soul chain, and it dragged along the ground like a heavy, burdensome tether. Her stomach churned. She knew the Reaper was responsible for escorting souls to the afterlife, but she assumed that happened once they were dead. She didn¡¯t realize her job required coming onto the crime scene a full twelve days early like some sort of woefully incompetent police officer. He was only fifty-four years old, for gods¡¯ sake. She didn¡¯t want to watch him kick the bucket in front of her¡ªshe¡¯d rather save his little penthouse-enjoying life for the time being and go back home. She crossed her arms indignantly, watching through the foggy restaurant window as the same man from before, most likely the restaurant¡¯s sole waiter, flew back and forth between the kitchen and the dining room. He was carrying plates of steaming hot noodles and broccoli, fresh from the wok. Her stomach rumbled like a thunderstorm. Her legs had started walking toward the food before her mind had even noticed it. Momo decided then that whatever Richard¡¯s unfortunate fate was, it could wait. She hadn¡¯t tasted broccoli that wasn¡¯t a sad imitation made of toilet brush in over a year. Some things were just simply more important than life and death. *** The savory noodles and tender vegetables were heaven on her tongue, and for a brief moment, Momo forgot all about her divine responsibilities¡ªand about the fact that she smelled like molding soy sauce. Thankfully, the restaurant saw enough¡­ interesting¡­ clientele that no one seemed to mind that she smelled suspiciously like the dumpster outside, and it was only when it came time to pay for her three individual entrees that Momo realized she had lived in Alois for too long. Random enchanted trinkets and royal pardons were not exactly commonplace payment for goods received around here. People in America tended to only accept something that had become completely foreign to Momo in recent months¡ªactual, tangible money. Dollar dollar bills, baby. Doubting that there was an ATM that converted Aloisian bucks to USA, she frowned as the waiter approached, his feet unknowingly stepping over Richard¡¯s soul chain. If only she could have accessed Richard¡¯s life savings along with his life. ¡°Pay with card? Apple Pay?¡± the man said impatiently. His hair was graying, the skin below his knees sagging, and he had deep wrinkles worn into forehead. Yet despite his weathered looks, he couldn¡¯t have been more than a day over forty. There was still a potent youth there, even if it had been beaten down with the hardhammer of life and restaurant management. Not just youth¡ªbut familiarity. The longer she looked at him, the more she felt like she knew this man. Like she had stumbled into a memory. The hanging lanterns suspended above the tables; the paintings of serene rural landscapes and calligraphy scrolls; the rickety nineties speakers playing classic Chinese hits with an intermittent crackling noise. Everything came sliding back like an avalanche of nostalgia when she heard the faint beep of the fire alarm¡ªthe batteries never once refilled¡ªecho across the dim room. She had been here before, quite a few times. Back in elementary school with her mom. The waiter back then had been a young boy, sixteen or seventeen, the son of the cranky owner that Momo had been petrified of. That old man back then had to have been in his late eighties; he could barely see, and he walked with a cane that scratched up the wood floors every time he walked. The floor here had the same scratches. Layers of lacquer tried to mask it, but it was still there. Her mother had been good friends with the old man¡ªOld Man Liang, she remembered suddenly, with a clarity like it had been yesterday¡ªher and him had played Mahjong on the weekends at Momo¡¯s family¡¯s apartment. Momo had always dreaded those weekends; they were always yelling as much as they were talking, and her mom would force Momo to come out to greet Liang, to ¡°pay him respect,¡± she¡¯d say like he was attending their sacred temple, and not visiting their house in his shorts and a worn down tank top. Momo and her mom had stopped going to the Dragon Lotus once she had entered sixth grade, or some time around that. Momo blossomed into her social anxiety around age twelve, and refused to go anywhere where she might actually know somebody after that. Eventually, Liang stopped coming to the house, too. Momo never asked why¡ªshe didn¡¯t want to know the answer. And yet, here she was, asking. ¡°Does Old Man Liang still work here?¡± The man¡¯s brows creased. His lips downturned into something between a frown and a scowl. He immediately dropped the professional niceties, if there were any to begin with. ¡°Where have you been?¡± he said grumpily. ¡°I buried my old man years ago.¡± Momo blinked. ¡°Your¡­ old man?¡± The man sighed, letting her plate clatter onto the table. ¡°Damn, you got his hearing too?¡± ¡°You¡¯re Liang¡¯s kid?¡± She grabbed his wrist with an urgency. ¡°How old are you now?¡± ¡°Why do you need to know?¡± ¡°I¡¯m Momo,¡± she said breathlessly. ¡°Momo Lim.¡± His eyebrows lifted, looking like he¡¯d seen a ghost. ¡°The missing Lim kid? Don¡¯t think so. You¡¯re supposed to be dead.¡± ¡°How old are you?¡± ¡°God? You¡¯re alive. Fuck. I¡¯m forty-two, man.¡± ¡°Forty-two,¡± she repeated. Her hand flew to her mouth. ¡°It¡¯s been twelve years?!¡± 283 – Richard Smith Poor Richard Smith. That was the only thing Momo could think as she walked like a dazed zombie through the beating heat of Chinatown. Poor Richard Smith, she thought again as the old elevator delivered her to the fourth floor of the University Club. Poor Richard Smith, she thought for the third and final time as she found the man of the hour swallowed up in a luxurious chair in front of the club¡¯s panoramic dining room window, noisily eating a stale croissant. Poor Richard Smith¡ªbecause even the Grim Reaper herself couldn¡¯t muster any sympathy for him in his final days. His death was as imminent as a middle finger on a New York intersection, and yet Momo couldn¡¯t find it in herself to care. She was simply too distracted. Too distracted by the fact that twelve entire years had passed since she left Earth, and she¡¯d only been aware of one of them. Flakes of Richard¡¯s croissant collected on the rug below Richard in a pile. A no eating here sign hung just above him, attached like a piece of fine art to the wood walls. Momo smiled a bit at that. But ultimately, she wasn¡¯t sure what she was doing here. There were still twelve entire days left on Richard¡¯s clock, and nothing in the quest description suggested that she needed to appear early. Only that she needed to appear. She brought up the details again, just to be sure, tapping her fingers to the side of her forehead. She had discovered that while on Earth, the System manifested itself differently¡ªit broadcasted information straight to her eyeballs, like text floating down on a teleprompter. If she were to make a guess, she imagined that each planet probably had their own manifestation of the System based on what its inhabitants were used to. In the late-medieval Alois, ink and parchment made the most sense; she was surprised Earth¡¯s System didn¡¯t manifest as a smartphone app or something equally stupid. But she supposed a direct-to-the-eyeball route fit best in the planet¡¯s rough trajectory towards duct-taping giant virtual headsets to everyone¡¯s forehead. YOUR FIRST REAPING Quest Description: At the time of target¡¯s death, open a Nether rift and escort target¡¯s soul to the designated replicant area. Use caution to not appear threatening. Avoid being perceived by other mortals. If widespread public perception occurs, please contact the Nether Lore Department so a suitable excuse can be concocted and the timeline can remain in balance. Quest Rewards: Access to the full [Domain: Reaping] Lvl. 1 skillset Use caution to not appear threatening. What did that even mean? How do you not appear threatening to someone who just died? The whole thing boggled Momo¡¯s mind. She really wasn¡¯t keen to watch someone die, either. But this was the path she had chosen. She wanted to do right by mortals in their most frightening moment, just as Valerica had done for her. Or, well, Momo would hopefully do a better job than Valerica did. For one, she wouldn¡¯t throw them in a dungeon and tell them they¡¯re being kept alive by a skeletal gerbil. In the reflection of the window, Momo watched Richard toss the remnants of his croissant onto the end table beside him and forcefully press the speaker of his phone to his mouth. ¡°Oh, drop the act for fuck¡¯s sake, Rosemary,¡± he seethed into the microphone. ¡°It¡¯s not cute. It¡¯s not endearing. In fact, it gives me violent indigestion. Look. I want you to know that I have zero problem taking your house, your other house, your Mercedes, your Ferrari, your Volkswagen, and your retirement fund if you don¡¯t sign the goddamn papers.¡± Richard somehow managed to sound like he was screaming while talking in a near-whisper¡ªwhat Momo could only guess was a feeble attempt to conform to the club¡¯s ban on work-calls in the dining area. Momo wondered who exactly he was barking at. Rosemary sounded like a woman¡¯s name. Was he filing for divorce maybe? If so, his wife sounded ultra-wealthy. Several cars. Several homes. If Richard lived in any way similarly, Momo wouldn¡¯t have minded being named in the upcoming will. Richard snorted. ¡°Oh, now you¡¯re going to sue me! What a load of shit. You couldn¡¯t touch me with a whole army. Get me the papers by eleven fifty-nine tonight. Any later and I¡¯ll manufacture a reason for you to see jail time. Goodbye.¡± He ended the call with a rough press of his thumb, threw the device into his lap, and groaned. What a pleasant man. Richard abruptly stood, and he and his polished, wrinkle-free gray suit turned to face her. He was wearing a scowl that looked permanently etched into his features, and his deep set, ravenous eyes set themselves upon her. It made her wish she hadn¡¯t chosen a human form to appear with on Earth. She could have just been sitting here, invisible and minding her business, but instead she had chosen to invite the ire of one of the world¡¯s worst personalities on an otherwise heavenly Saturday afternoon. After giving her a onceover, Richard gritted through his teeth, ¡°mind your own fucking business,¡± and stalked toward the elevator. As the rickety doors closed, she heard him mutter, ¡°goddamn cosplaying creeps are everywhere. Get a life and a real job.¡± Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. Cosplaying¡­ creeps? She looked down at herself, and flushed. Oh. Right. *** ¡°Hello? Ma¡¯am? I don¡¯t mean this rudely, but I must kindly request that you refrain from trying on any of our clothes until after you have¡­ how do I say this politely¡­ showered?¡± Momo¡¯s head was buried in a rack of discount suit jackets when a voice promptly yanked her from her thoughts. She squinted at the mall¡¯s blinding fluorescent lights, her pupils darting around to locate the source of the babbling¡ªbefore finally landing on a squirrely teenager. The child in question looked terrified to be here, and even more terrified to be walking her way into a potential interpersonal conflict. Momo immediately empathized. ¡°Oh, sorry, sorry,¡± Momo said. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I won¡¯t be trying anything on.¡± ¡°Oh.¡± The teenager relaxed visibly. ¡°That¡¯s a relief.¡± ¡°But, if I were to. Hypothetically¡­¡± Momo jangled two of the jackets off their hangers and held them an inch away from her torso, biting her lip self-consciously. ¡°Which of these would look better?¡± ¡°Oh, ma¡¯am, I don¡¯t think I¡¯m qualified¡­¡± Momo interrupted, ¡°However not-qualified you think you are, I can promise you I am less.¡± She lowered her voice, then whimpered, ¡°Please help.¡± If Momo was going to see her family again, she really, really wanted to look better than she had twelve years ago. No more hiding in Mallmart hoodies, or swimming in giant Dad-fit jeans. She wanted something elegant, professional, and form-fitting. Something that said¡ª¡°I am no longer anxiety personified,¡± if that was possible to capture in an outfit. She explained this to the teenager. ¡°Got it,¡± the girl replied quietly. Despite her previous reservedness, her eyes seemed to come alight as they discussed possible outfit choices. ¡°Well I¡¯d love to help, but again, ma¡¯am¡ª¡± Momo nodded, putting up a hand. ¡°Right, right. Just give me a second.¡± Momo quickly ran to the mall bathroom, and behind a stall, called upon [Death¡¯s Many Forms]. She was still occupying the form she took on back in Alois, but that Momo had unfortunately been sullied by the dumpster. She figured there¡¯d be no need to shower if she simply swapped into a version of herself that wasn¡¯t stinky. Unfortunately, she received a negative beep-beep sound. [Death¡¯s Many Forms] failed. Something dead or undead is not in your current radius. Crap. I forgot about that part. What could she find that was dead but not smelly? Maybe like¡­ a ham sandwich? Would that work, technically? She scrambled to the nearby cafeteria, the infectious smell of seven-dollar orange chicken filling her nostrils¡ªa daring temptress. She had to remain strong. She only had four dollars, charitably gifted to her by Young Liang once she explained her destitute situation. Just enough for one slim slice of ham on some bread from Meatn¡¯More. With the sandwich firmly on her person, she returned to the bathroom stall and tried again, visualizing a version of herself that was a little more palatable to the American public. Goodbye dumpster-smelling cloak and tunic, hello skinny jeans and a graphic t-shirt. She was encouraged by the fact that she didn¡¯t hear any haptic feedback as she chanted the spell, and then delighted to find her reflection in the smudged bathroom mirror. Her blue jeans were charmingly noodle-free. Also¡ªshe had gone even farther, and visualized four hundred dollars in her back pocket. Which had actually worked. Bless this wonderful skill. She spread the four bills across her hands in disbelief. Maybe the universe did love her sometimes. *** This garment offers no bonuses. It will not protect you in combat. This garment offers no bonuses. It will not protect you in combat. This garment offers no bonuses. It will not protect you in combat. This garment offers no bonuses. It will not protect you in combat. Momo annoyedly waved away the notifications as they clogged her field of view. She could barely see to begin with¡ªthe fluorescent lighting above her head was harsh and unflattering, casting sharp shadows across her face and giving her skin a slightly sickly pallor. The changing room itself was cramped, the walls too close, the air too still, and the mirror far too honest. She tugged at the hem of the tight dress she¡¯d been coaxed into trying on by her new teenage partner-in-fashion, the fabric clinging to her every curve. It was far more constricting than anything she was used to wearing¡ªfar more elegant, too. The sleek, dark material hugged her frame in a way that was both flattering and suffocating. She could barely breathe, let alone move comfortably. It cinched at the waist, tapered at the knees, and left her feeling like she was wearing a straightjacket masquerading as couture. ¡°I don¡¯t care¡ª¡± she huffed, pulling on the matching black heel. She could already feel the blisters forming, ¡°¡ªif this dress doesn¡¯t provide any stat bonuses. As long as it provides the bonus of my family taking me seriously for once, I¡¯m getting it. Okay, System?¡± The System seemed to get the message, because the notifications shortly stopped coming. Satisfied, she wobbled her way out of the stall, coming face to face once again with the critical eye of the sixteen year old, who Momo had learned, after a quick look at her heavily (and most likely purposefully) obscured nametag, was named Emily. ¡°I think it¡¯s perfect,¡± Emily said, giving her a small smile. ¡°Really? I don¡¯t know. I feel like a barbie that had a factory defect.¡± ¡°Isn¡¯t that what you¡¯re going for? The barbie part.¡± Momo sighed. ¡°I guess so.¡± So she bought the clothes, despite the System¡¯s many warnings of their uselessness, and left the mall feeling a strange mix of pride and terror. She was so lost in her thoughts that she almost hailed a taxi to take her home, but her hand froze mid-air. Home. What a concept. She had been so focused on crafting this new version of herself to impress her parents that she hadn''t truly considered what awaited her. Twelve years had passed¡ªan entire lifetime. Did they even still live at the same address? God¡ªwere they even still alive? The thought made her stomach churn, and her arms and legs began to tremble. She slapped herself hard on the cheek. She¡¯d gain nothing from worrying about it. She needed to face them sometime, and that sometime just happened to be now. After all, she had to sleep somewhere. Right? She was strong. She was ready. She was changed. *** She ended up booking a hotel. 284 – Momo-con Breakfast at the Fisherman¡¯s Wharf Bayside Inn was luxurious. Well, probably not for the average American¡ªbut for a goddess deprived of Earthly delights for so long, it was a culinary homecoming. Momo appeared there like an overeager zombie at six am sharp, before even the culinary staff had time to tuck in their aprons, and took the first steaming hot plate off the pile. Already salivating, she loaded it up with precious cargo: six strips of limp bacon (doused in oil), a heaping pile of mushy scrambled eggs, a cup of stale cereal, one black coffee with maximum fat creamer, and finally, two pieces of finely burnt toast. She laid her tray flat on a wobbly one-person dining table, and went on her tippy-toes in order to hop onto the stool by the window. It had a gorgeous view of the water, interrupted only slightly by a dollop of gray smog erupting from a nearby ship. She sipped on her too-hot coffee, instantly burning her tongue, and relished life as the noisy air conditioning unit above her poured freezing cold air over her damp, freshly washed hair. It was perfect. It was peace. That was until someone opened the window and the noise of a hundred cars honking at each other in the nearby parking lot filtered in. Summer allergies whisked their way in through the morning wind, causing Momo to sneeze, and then promptly knock her coffee mug onto the floor, shattering it into a hundred, milky-black pieces. ¡°Well,¡± she mumbled. ¡°Perfect lasted longer than it usually does.¡± Ten minutes might have been a new Momo-record. *** Momo had been determined to visit her parents that day. She really had. But if that morning had been any indication, Momo¡¯s plans very rarely managed to stay their course very long. Momo was sitting in a plush armchair, patiently waiting her turn to check out of the hotel when the first sign of disruption arrived. Three bubbly girls shuffled in through the inn¡¯s ever-revolving front doors. She really wouldn¡¯t have looked twice at them if it wasn¡¯t for their outlandish outfits¡ªall of them identical, and strangely reminiscent of what Momo had been wearing when she arrived here. A cat-hooded tunic. Clogs. Hakama-style wide leg pants. Definitely not the kind of clothes you¡¯d find at your local H&M. ¡°I swear it said his name on the panel,¡± one of the girls said as they walked toward the seating area. They were all wearing long, white-colored wigs, but the girl speaking was most identifiable by just how tall she was, towering over the two other girls in both height and confidence. ¡°I mean, he was literally advertised as the headliner for the whole festival.¡± ¡°Literally. Joon Lee is the only reason I bought tickets.¡± ¡°Same. I¡¯ll be so pissed if he bows out at the last minute.¡± The two smaller girls flopped into the armchairs on either side of Momo while the tall girl remained standing. She sighed, brought the plastic straw of her bubble tea to her lips, and grouchily sipped it as she leaned against the wall. None of the girls acknowledged Momo¡¯s existence despite her sitting awkwardly in the middle of their conversation. One of the girls looked up from her phone for a brief moment. ¡°Is Emily not coming?¡± Tall Girl blew out a breath. ¡°No idea. Her shift was supposed to end like, two hours ago.¡± ¡°Her car probably broke down again.¡± ¡°She seriously needs to replace that thing.¡± ¡°She can¡¯t. She¡¯s totally broke.¡± Tall Girl groaned. ¡°She works that much and she¡¯s still broke?¡± ¡°Not everyone¡¯s mom is the CEO of a Fortune 500 company, Lacy.¡± ¡°Oh, shut up.¡± Tall Girl, presumably Lacy, rolled her eyes. ¡°Your dad literally invented that self-driving car that rear-ended Emily¡¯s car last week. If anything, you should be paying for the repairs on her sad little Yaris. Poor thing.¡± Momo¡¯s eyes darted back and forth between them, so caught up in the conversation that she failed to notice the soft whine of the revolving door. ¡°Emily! There you are.¡± Momo craned her head, eyes widening in surprise. Small frigging world. It was Emily from the mall. ¡°Hi Lacy,¡± Emily said, embracing the other girl. ¡°Hi Olivia. Maxi. Oh, and¡ª¡± Emily¡¯s jaw dropped comically when her eyes landed on Momo. ¡°Wait, you¡¯re here for Momocon too?¡± Momo choked on air. The girls¡¯ eyes, which had previously never set on her, all flew to her at once. She felt very perceived. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Momo said, her voice strained. ¡°Did you just say Momo-con?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± Emily said, more unsure. ¡°The convention?¡± If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Lacy threw her bubble tea into the trash can. It was a perfect shot, even from halfway across the room. Momo wondered if maybe she had just run into a group of aliens. ¡°Emily, who is this?¡± Lacy asked. Emily reddened. ¡°Just someone I met at work.¡± ¡°Oh. Is she coming?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Emily said. ¡°Are you? We could give you a ride, if you want.¡± Momo felt like she was being watched by gargoyles. Their stares were as piercing as the laser of a rifle. The pieces of this puzzle were floating together slowly in her mind¡ªtheir costumes, from the hair to the clogs; the name of the convention; the discussion she¡¯d had with Roger Earth about her legacy, and the implications of it across the multiverse. She gulped. ¡°How are you guys getting there?¡± *** Lacy slammed the door of the car shut, and huffed. Three heavily discombobulated teenage girls and one petrified goddess shuffled out from behind her. ¡°I thought we were going to die,¡± Emily whispered. Lacy shoved a hand in the sewn-in pocket of her white cloak and pulled out a vape. ¡°Don¡¯t be dramatic,¡± she said, exhaling white smoke. ¡°We were completely safe.¡± ¡°It ran three red lights, Lacy!¡± Maxine hissed. ¡°So what?¡± Lacy groaned. ¡°We got the ride free because we¡¯re ¡®helping to train the self-driving algorithm,¡¯ or whatever. We just saved like, sixty dollars that we would have had to spend on a taxi. That¡¯s sixty dollars we can now spend on merch.¡± Maxine crossed her arms, then massaged them up and down with her hands to calm herself. She muttered, ¡°At least a taxi wouldn¡¯t have started beeping at a random fire hydrant because it thought it was a person. What person is three feet tall and red?¡± Momo watched as the group of them steamrolled ahead toward the convention center. The place was completely packed. Girls¡ªand the very occasional, but equally excited boy¡ªdressed in cheap wigs and fake angel wings were snaked around the entrance to the building waiting to go through security. Bordering the festival were food trucks selling all manner of Korean and Japanese fare; bulgogi beef bowls, kimchi fried rice, crispy Korean fried chicken, tteokbokki, bibimbap, ramen, takoyaki, onigiri. The heavenly scent was so overwhelming that Momo nearly collapsed. She instantly regretted stuffing her face earlier on oil-boiled bacon. And if she wasn¡¯t full that morning, she was absolutely bursting by the afternoon. She shoved down as much fried food as she could manage, her stomach becoming as hard and as round as a boulder. Still, she didn¡¯t care. When else would she ever get to experience a food festival tailor-made to her exact tastes? She had been so bewildered by everything Roger had been talking about back in the Lore Department that she had completely missed the fact that, by becoming a mythological figure¡ªa motherflipping deity¡ªthe things she loved (fried chicken, dumplings, practical sandals, cat-themed memorabilia) would become so celebrated, so adored, that she could attend a fifty thousand person convention center and everyone there would appreciate them just as much as she did. She took a deep breath. This day was perfect, actually. She prayed to Morgana to keep the universe alive for just a few more hours. Politely shoving her way inside, she took a pamphlet from an overzealous man dressed head to toe in black cat-themed merchandise, and reviewed the upcoming panels and workshops. There was a great variety of different events and speakers: historians specializing in the goddess Momo¡¯s debated origins¡ªwas she Korean or Japanese or maybe, actually, an American from San Francisco (clearly clickbait)?; then there was a cosplayers costume competition with the prize of a year¡¯s worth of cat food; a workshop on becoming a better public speaker; a lecture on folk history''s most famous introverts. There was even a very intriguing event labeled ¡°Forgotten Legends,¡± about goddesses that predated Momo, but were less popular in the current day. When she passed by that room, she leaned in to see several women on stage in black wigs and red-painted fingernails. Valerica would have killed them for the mere impersonation. Momo giggled. Oh, this was so wonderful. Not wanting to miss a single glorious thing, Momo filled her schedule to the brink. She took a class on the art history of the Edo period, attended a cat show, and donated so much Nether-generated money to the foster animal fund that she worried momentarily about causing an unintentional inflationary period in California. ¡°Can I ask you a question?¡± Momo was sitting cross-legged on the floor of the convention center¡¯s auditorium. They were packed like mice waiting for the costume competition to start. It was apparently the main event of the entire evening, with well-known influencers in the ¡°Momosphere¡± competing for the top prize¡ªsomething Momo really needed to witness with her own eyes. Bored, Momo had leaned over to the couple next to her. They were chatting animatedly to each other in a mix of German and English, and from what she could understand of their conversation, they had traveled a very long way to come to this specific convention. ¡°Of course,¡± the woman responded to Momo with a nod. She elbowed her husband in the stomach slightly to get a better look at Momo, and smiled. ¡°What is it?¡± Momo scratched the back of her neck sheepishly. ¡°I¡¯m new to this whole ¡­ Momo ¡­ thing, and I¡¯m kind of lost. How did a myth about a 15th century debatably-Japanese goddess become so popular in the 21st century West? Like¡ªthere are teenage girls here who do not seem like history buffs.¡± The husband laughed. ¡°How does anything get popular in the 21st century?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t be sarcastic with the young woman.¡± ¡°A television show,¡± he continued, giving her a chastised look. ¡°Some Hollywood executive dug up Momo¡¯s story while on a trip to Japan and they made it into a big budget series. It is very famous in Germany. People love her because, ah¡ª Sie ist ein bisschen l?cherlich. ¡± ¡°No, no. That is not true.¡± The wife glared at him. ¡°She is more than just ridiculous. She is beloved because she is very noble. Very¡­ sweet, yes. Brave.¡± Momo softened, feeling a tight pulling sensation in her chest. ¡°I see. She sounds cool,¡± she whispered. ¡°She is very cool,¡± the husband agreed, leaning back on his hands. ¡°Just like Joon Lee.¡± ¡°Joon Lee?¡± She had heard the girls mentioning that name earlier. Some sort of festival headliner. ¡°The actor who plays Momo¡¯s brother in the television series,¡± the husband said, then cocked his eyebrow at Momo inquisitively. ¡°You actually kind of look like him. Like, a lot.¡± The wife slapped him on the chest. ¡°Don¡¯t say that.¡± He put up his hands defensively. ¡°What! She really does!¡± He sighed. ¡°You¡¯ll see. He is supposed to be one of the judges in the costume competition. That''s why everyone came.¡± The lights began to dim in the auditorium. ¡°Be quiet,¡± the wife said. ¡°I think it¡¯s starting.¡± The stage went black, and a hush fell over the audience. A microphone was tested in the background, producing a whining technical sound. After a moment, the whine stopped, and a building crescendo of sound began to echo over the speakers. It was playing a song that sounded like a western music producer¡¯s interpretation of a Korean folk tune. A spotlight lit up the stage, and a man was standing there, excitedly waving to an instantly roaring audience. He was dressed in a perfectly ironed navy blue suit, his hair sleek and black. His jaw was sharp, his eyes a dark, deep brown. A familiar mole sat just below his neck, and Momo couldn¡¯t stop staring at it. Joon Lee didn¡¯t look just ¡°like¡± her. Joon Lee wasn¡¯t Joon Lee at all. He was Daehyun Lim. Momo¡¯s younger brother. 285 – The Lim Siblings ¡°Thank you everyone. Thank you, thank you.¡± Daehyun bowed several times and smiled grandly at the audience. Meanwhile, Momo¡¯s jaw hadn¡¯t recovered from its seat on the floor. Her dimwit teenage brother, the wannabe Soundcloud rapper, was standing in front of an audience of hundreds with a five o¡¯clock shadow and a designer suit, and he somehow¡­ didn¡¯t look out of place. Am I having a stroke? ¡°You know,¡± he started, and the audience quieted as he wrapped his fist around the microphone stand. His fingernails were painted black as soot. They were perfect, not even a little chipped. Definitely better than anything Momo had ever accomplished on her own cuticles. ¡°This is just¡ª surreal, really. All of your beautiful faces. These amazing costumes. I¡¯m¡­ I¡¯m honored to even be among such a good-looking group of people.¡± The audience cheered. Momo could barely believe her own ears. He sounded¡­ charismatic? Charming? She wondered if in twelve years the human race had discovered a way to remotely pilot other people¡¯s brains. Because she would be less surprised if some underpaid speechwriter from Los Angeles was plugged into Daehyun¡¯s skull than to know it was actually him speaking. ¡°It¡¯s funny. When I accepted the role to play Takeshi in the movie, I thought, holy crap, I can¡¯t believe they didn¡¯t realize I¡¯m a total fraud,¡± he laughed, bowing his head bashfully. I¡¯m surprised too, she thought, but ultimately, the gesture came off as completely authentic. Momo had been listening to this boy¡¯s white lies her whole life, and yet her bullshit detectors were unusually quiet as she listened to him yammer on about his journey into acting. He continued, pearly white teeth shining like a commercial for a dentist¡¯s office, ¡°I¡¯ve told this story many times, so I¡¯m sure most of you know it, but for those who don¡¯t¡ªI was never supposed to be an actor. My true destiny was to be a complete loser. Really! Before I got scouted, I was the guy you would religiously avoid on the corner right outside the subway station. The one who was aggressively trying to hand you his mixtape.¡± That drew a small but genuine chuckle out of Momo, and for the first time, she was laughing alongside the crowd. Daehyun hadn¡¯t quite gotten to the point of passing out his tapes on the street back when Momo lived with him, but it wasn¡¯t hard to imagine him getting there. ¡°But for heaven knows what reason, Scott Levi, the scout for the Momo production, ran into me when he was on vacation. I did my whole usual shtick with him, tried to get him to take a copy of The Trials and Tribulations of a Bay Area Bozo¡ªall original CD copies now out of stock, sorry to say¡ªand instead of just slapping my hand away like people usually did, he actually took the CD, listened to it in his hotel room, and came back to see me the next day.¡± Now that was truly unbelievable. Momo had heard that album more than once. Just thinking of it again made her involuntarily cover her ears in distress. ¡°He must have been a charity worker,¡± she muttered under her breath. ¡°Or an insane person. Or an insane charity worker person.¡± Luckily Daehyun¡ªnor anyone else¡ªheard her. Even luckier that he had no idea about Valerica. If anyone was going to get accused of being a social worker responsible for inept Lim children¡­ They all certainly had their own types of angels. ¡°And let me tell you guys,¡± he laughed, his eyes crinkling. ¡°I never had anyone come back the next day. So I was super excited when he showed up. Only to be a lot less excited when he shook my hand real rough¡ªthis guy has a handshake like a gorilla¡ªand he said kid, your music is trash. Just, really bad. Quit that straight away, give up on it, never look back. But your look, he said, your attitude, your style¡ªby the way, he was gesturing to my stained Linkin Park t-shirt and twelve dollar Goodwill jeans¡ªhe said this is something I can sell. You¡¯re just what we¡¯re looking for. Of course, I assume he¡¯s talking about working at a strip club or something, but it turns out he wants me for a television show.¡± The audience roared. Daehyun gave them a devilish little smile. That smile¡ªthat smile Momo recognized. This was really her brother. Her brother who, by his own admittance, would have ended up forever on the sidewalk handing out tapes for an uninspired Slim Shady-parody-sequel if it wasn¡¯t for Momo¡¯s ascendance. His life had been completely upturned by her actions. It was a funny thing, knowing that. Funny in the way that it made Momo feel like crying. She had been a big sister, in a way, even from afar. She blinked quickly, feeling her eyes sting. Goddamnit. ¡°But, the thing is¡­ I didn¡¯t want the role.¡± Daehyun took a breath in, and it felt as if the entire room began to deflate. Momo could see it in the people¡¯s faces, in the German couple next to her, in the teenage girls frowning from a row over¡ªall these people, these strangers, knew something about her brother that she didn¡¯t. Something important, obviously. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. ¡°As you all probably know, I lost my big sister Momo twelve years ago.¡± He exhaled shakily. ¡°She went missing in upstate New York, and still hasn¡¯t been found. So as soon as Scott told me the name of the production, of the central character, I just couldn¡¯t do it.¡± Momo¡¯s stomach dropped. She had the sudden urge to stand, to start jumping up and down like a crazy person, to wave her hands around and yell, ¡°you didn¡¯t lose me, you idiot! I just got lost for a bit, but I¡¯m right here!¡± But she knew that the moment she did that in front of all these teenagers and their cellphones, she would turn the whole thing into a big, messy, viral moment, which in turn would probably trigger some annoying Lore Department emergency button and whisk her back to the Nether. So she refrained. ¡°But Scott Levi helped me realize that by doing the show, I could honor my sister¡¯s memory. She was a huge television fan. She¡¯d binge series she liked for days and days, to the point where it kind of worried our mom and dad,¡± Daehyun laughed, and Momo¡¯s cheeks burned a bit. ¡°But once they discovered all her art notebooks full of drawings of the actors and actresses, they saw it differently. We all did. She was an incredibly talented artist, just like the Momo we see in the show. They¡¯re really more similar than I ever could have imagined.¡± He cleared his throat. Momo¡¯s cheeks burned even hotter. ¡°So, yeah. Thank you for all the support you¡¯ve shown the show. I know my sister and Momo Tokugawa are technically two different people from two different worlds, but your love for Momo the character sometimes feels like it¡¯s meant for my sister. So,¡± he rubbed at his watery eyes, laughed, and then saluted the audience awkwardly. ¡°Thank you again. From me and from her. Now, without further ado, let¡¯s see some amazing costumes.¡± The crowds began shouting ¡°Joon Lee, Joon Lee, Joon Lee¡­¡± at the top of their lungs as the artificial lights brightened to welcome the eager cosplayers to the stage. Momo could only shake her head at the ridiculous stage name. She watched him clumsily peel himself from the microphone and head toward the back of the stage, failing to notice as tears streamed down her face. At least that was until she received a rude notification. [Pitied] has been activated! ¡°Oh, for god¡¯s sake,¡± she mumbled. She could already see the wife of the German couple climbing over her husband with a tissue in her hand. She was plotting it on Momo¡¯s cheeks before Momo could complain. ¡°Please¡ªit¡¯s fine,¡± Momo said, backing away. She wasn¡¯t about to lose track of Daehyun now. The woman tutted at her, but Momo was already standing up and stalking toward the barricade surrounding the stage. Security was very thin, and the stage crew were preoccupied with setting up the floor for the cosplayers, so almost no one noticed her until she was rolling onto the cold wood of the stage and belly-flopping at the feet of seven scantily-clad women in so-called Momo costumes. The women were wearing almost no clothes except for angel wings, the infamous cat-cowl, and instead of clogs, two very uncomfortable looking high heels. She blinked at them. ¡°What the hell did Roger do to my signature outfit?¡± The women looked down at her as if she was a cockroach. ¡°This is Momo¡¯s final form,¡± one of the cosplayers said icily. ¡°When she has that big battle in the last episode? And she has to take off her clothes so her skin can absorb the sunlight?¡± Momo blinked deliriously up at her. I¡¯m going to have to have a word with the writer¡¯s room. She turned to pursue Daehyun again, but a large hand wrapped around her arm, fixing her in place. The hand was attached to a burly man in a navy blue security uniform. ¡°Ma¡¯am, you can¡¯t be up here,¡± he said. Crap. She looked toward the audience. Everyone was looking at her. This is what she got for judging the outfit choices of her fellow woman. Quick karmic retribution. The members of the audience were already whipping their phones out. Even Emily¡¯s pack of vape-addicted wolves, Tall One Lacy and the other girls with names she couldn¡¯t remember, had their cameras hovering steadily upward. The stage¡¯s lighting operator wasn¡¯t making it any easier, either; he jostled the spotlight away from the seven cosplayers and toward her, illuminating her like she¡¯d just jumped on the stage at Broadway. Oh well. Dignity be forgotten. Time to turn on the waterworks. ¡°Everyone, please, don¡¯t record me!¡± she said, fresh tears already ready to go. ¡°I¡¯m just having, like¡ªlike, a really vulnerable moment.¡± [Pitied] has been activated! The crowd¡¯s rising tide of phone cameras stilled. Anonymous faces looked at each other as if considering en masse how to proceed. This was clearly a clickbait-worthy video. Would they choose to sacrifice their chance at five seconds of internet fame in exchange for being a decent person? Momo didn¡¯t know if her skill was powerful enough to do that kind of black magic. And yet, somewhere in the audience, a phone suddenly shattered onto the ground. Momo¡¯s eyebrows rose as she identified none other than Lacy standing over the shattered device, her hands placed defiantly on her hips. The girl had taken a man¡¯s phone and thrown it onto the ground without a second thought. The sorry gentleman was looking up at her in complete shock and horror, unsure how to respond. ¡°Wow. What kind of person are you?¡± Lacy asked, ¡°Taking advantage of a woman during a vulnerable moment? What a society.¡± The audience was silent for a moment, their eyes drifting between the stage, the weeping mess of a girl standing on it, the teenager who just committed property crime, and then their own devices. The gears in their heads abruptly finished churning, and they began to roar in solidarity with Lacy¡¯s statement, cheering her on and pretending like they weren¡¯t about to do the exact same thing a moment before. ¡°Yeah, asshole! What were you thinking?¡± ¡°Total sicko,¡± someone agreed vehemently. ¡°Who would record a woman who is clearly going through a mental health crisis?¡± Momo frowned at that one. Still, she wasn¡¯t going to waste the very obvious gift she was being given. So she nodded gratefully to her audience and shrugged out of the security man¡¯s grip. He didn¡¯t seem to want to stop her anymore. With an angry mob at her back, she walked quickly toward the back stage, determined to track down her baby brother. 286 – Daehyun ¡°Daehyun! Daehyun?¡± Momo threaded through the black maze of curtains until she burst out into the heavenly light of the backstage, a wide dusty room littered with props, struggling stagehands, and disassembled furniture. She did a frenzied glance around, but her brother was nowhere in sight. But looking past the group of stagehands, Momo could see a wide open door at the opposite end of the room, wind buffeting in through it. ¡°Hey! Can one of you close that?¡± one of the stagehands shouted. He was gesturing to the two barely old enough to vote ¡®security guards¡¯ at the edge of the room; the pair of them were currently preoccupied with seeing who could blow the bigger smoke ring. ¡°Joon left it wide open when he left and it¡¯s getting hot in here.¡± Momo¡¯s jaw clenched. He¡¯s already gone?! Not waiting around to find out, she padded quickly past them; luckily, her [Pitied] skill seemed to still be in effect, as they didn¡¯t try and stop her. All they did was frown sadly. Daylight burned her eyes as she stumbled onto hot pavement. Bracketed on both sides by large touring trucks and catering company vehicles, Momo supposed this was the convention center¡¯s vendor parking lot. It had several barricades surrounding it, and beyond those were even more barricades, offering what appeared to be a good degree of separation between the general public and several thousand dollars worth of inventory. Momo heard the sound of a heel driving into pavement. She looked to the right, and behind a cloud of billowing smoke was her goodfornothing brother. His foot was putting out a cigarette, and his hand was apathetically scrolling through his phone. His face looked tired and his hair disheveled, a complete one eighty from the oratory god she¡¯d seen on stage. Adrenaline pumping, she took a rash step forward, but then she stopped herself. What was she even supposed to say to him? Was this even a good idea? Her brother was fully convinced she was dead. Or at the very least that she had been missing for thirteen years. Seeing her would probably be traumatizing in a whole new way. Not to mention she had no idea how she was going to explain her own disappearance. Her hands balled into fists. She didn¡¯t want to lie to him, but she also doubted that he would believe her if she told him the truth. Why would he? Like¡­ Hey. Long time no see. So, actually, I got food poisoning, died, was brought back to life by a necromancer¡­ what¡¯s a necromancer? Oh, well, so, there¡¯s this woman named Valerica, and she has a whole collection of skeletons that do her chores for her and occasionally take over cities en masse¡­ Also, it¡¯s only been like two years for me, and thirteen for you. Yes, I know that¡¯s deeply unsettling. No, I can¡¯t do anything about it. It was a conversational dead end. Why? Because it sounded like complete fantasy. Understandably so. To him, to Earth, it was just that¡ªfantasy. The Lore Department had done a good job keeping it that way. This place didn¡¯t have a System; it was basically untouched by the gods. Morgana and Co were way too busy causing chaos in the worlds that they had actually bothered to initiate into their stupid little pastime of numbers and levels. And to think of it, it was actually really strange that Earth was so modern compared to Alois. It had progressed so much technologically and scientifically, while a place like Alois, which was full of people that could literally call a deity up to say hello, had barely gotten past the horse and wagon. Well, aside from Viktor and his chicken-ductor, but still. She wondered if there was some sort of correlation there. Like maybe the System was actually just a bandaid for underdeveloped planets; a sort of daycare for mortal populations until they¡¯d entered the industrial age. Or maybe not. Maybe it really was just like the myth she heard a while back. That some farmer found an Oblivion Stone and begged the gods for a way to gain power. She didn¡¯t really know why she was thinking of all this right now. Nothing could matter less than this. What mattered was¡ª ¡°Holy shit. You look just like my sister.¡± You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. Momo¡¯s limbs went rigid in alarm as Daehyun shoved his phone in his pocket, his eyebrows furrowing as he began to strut towards her. She hugged herself instinctively, feeling less and less like a big sister the closer he got. He was so tall now. He¡¯d always been tall, she supposed, but he¡¯d never been big enough to justify it¡ªlike a kid in too-long socks. But now he filled out his suit without any awkward wrinkles or bunched up sleeves. He towered over her like a weathered street sign, arms crossed just the way their father always did. ¡°Daehyun,¡± she breathed out. ¡°Hey.¡± Whatever gears had been churning in his thick skull, hearing his own name¡ªhis real name¡ªcertainly threw a wrench in the machine. Momo could tell just by the shade of pale his face turned. The kind of white sickliness that makes people remark ¡°oh, you¡¯ve seen a ghost.¡± But it wasn¡¯t funny. It wasn''t a metaphor. He really was seeing a ghost. ¡°Is this some kind of joke?¡± he scowled. ¡°Look, I don¡¯t know who let you back here, but you have to leave now. I¡ª this is a costume competition for the TV character. Not my goddamn dead sister.¡± He gestured to her face in anger. ¡°What is this, makeup? You think that¡¯s funny? To dress up like dead people?¡± Momo¡¯s imitation of a human heart rattled in her chest. She could feel just how fake it was at that moment. It¡¯s uneven beats, echoing like a car engine. He was right. The real Momo would have been much older by now. Maybe she would have dyed her hair. But it was still her. Heart or heartless. ¡°Daehyun, it¡¯s me,¡± she said quietly, feeling herself regressing to a smaller version of herself. ¡°No, it¡¯s not,¡± he spat. He shoved past her. ¡°I¡¯m getting security.¡± ¡°Just hear me out for one second!¡± He paused right at the doorway. She could see his shoulders tighten. But then they dropped. He was still facing away from her. ¡°You sound like her,¡± he said. ¡°That¡¯s because I am her, idiot.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t call me that.¡± ¡°Why?¡± Momo laughed mirthlessly. ¡°That¡¯s practically your legal name to me. It¡¯s hard enough to hear people call you Joon. Even though it¡¯s a better stage name than I was expecting, if I¡¯m being honest. I had to live through Slim Lim, Lil Dae. Oh god, then there was that whole phase where you started calling yourself Big D¡­¡± Daehyun turned around. He looked a lot less angry. He looked something else¡ªnumb, perhaps. Frozen. His face was as empty as a cloud. ¡°How do you know all that?¡± he asked. ¡°Because I was there!¡± she exclaimed. She wasn¡¯t sure why she was suddenly frustrated. It wasn¡¯t his fault. She just didn¡¯t like that feeling¡ªlike she was being erased from her own memories. ¡°I was there every night. Silently eating noodles at dinner while mom screamed at you for spending our grocery money on fake gold chains from Albert¡¯s.¡± He just blinked at her. She crossed her arms, shaking a bit. ¡°Albert¡¯s,¡± he said. ¡°Run by that¡­¡± ¡°Old guy with the drinking problem and the feral chihuahua,¡± Momo finished. ¡°He came to play Mahjong with mom sometimes.¡± ¡°Him and Old Man Liang.¡± ¡°Those two. They were terrifying. Their laughs sounded like coal mines.¡± It was funny, but neither of them laughed. Eventually, Daehyun began to walk towards her again, slowly, carefully; apprehensive like a hurt dog. He was hugging himself just as Momo had done. They looked eerily alike then, if anyone had bothered to observe them. ¡°They weren¡¯t fake,¡± he said as he stopped a foot away. ¡°The chains. They were real.¡± ¡°Real gold chains don¡¯t cost ten dollars.¡± ¡°Maybe Albert¡¯s did.¡± Momo brought her hands up to her brother¡¯s chest and fixed his uneven collar. ¡°What a mess,¡± she said. ¡°Can¡¯t let people see you like this.¡± ¡°You sound like Mom.¡± ¡°You look like Dad.¡± ¡°Ouch.¡± They weren¡¯t really arguing; they were talking to fill the space between the obvious. The obvious that had started to pour from Daehyun¡¯s eyes. He wiped it away quickly, his hands clenching and unclenching. His breaths coming fast then slow. ¡°Shit,¡± he said, voice cracking. ¡°What the hell, Momo?¡± Before she could say another word, his arms came to surround her in a hug only siblings could really give¡ªheavy enough to break you into a million pieces. He sobbed silently into her shoulder for several minutes, and she just held him harder. ¡°It¡¯s been so long,¡± he cried. ¡°You suck, Noona.¡± Cursing her out into her shoulder, he didn¡¯t seem so old anymore. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I didn¡¯t mean to.¡± She really hadn¡¯t. He pulled away from her, finally; he cleaned his face with the sleeve of his expensive suit. After the initial shock had washed over him, he took her by the shoulders, examining her like she was an action figure¡ªsurveying for any defects. ¡°What the hell happened to you?¡± he said. ¡°Where have you been? We¨C God, Momo. We all thought you were dead. Mom and Dad¡­¡± ¡°Stop.¡± Momo shook her head. ¡°I don¡¯t want to hear about them right now. I just¡­ I want to hear about you. A movie star!¡± ¡°Who cares about my movie! You¡¯re alive!¡± Momo inhaled. ¡°I¡­ Yeah. Look, I promise to tell you everything.¡± He laughed indignantly. ¡°You goddamn better!¡± ¡°But I don¡¯t want to do it here,¡± she said, gesturing to the parking lot. He nodded. ¡°Fine. Okay,¡± he breathed out. ¡°Where, then?¡± Momo smiled for the first time in a while. ¡°Old habits die hard¡­¡± she whispered. He groaned. ¡°Man, you¡¯re still that obsessed with fast food?¡± ¡°Yep,¡± she whistled, already heading for the road. ¡°Wait until you hear how it killed me.¡± 287 – Proof Of Godhood ¡°Oh my god,¡± Momo groaned in euphoria. The interior of Fred¡¯s Fried Specialties had completely disappeared around her¡ªher senses diminished to only the heavenly taste of the Quadruple Pounder Chili Cheese Fry Bun Special. It was exactly how she remembered it. Six pieces of bacon. A deep-fried slab of meat. A few minimum wage laborer tears. A pound of mystery cheese sauce. It was hypnotic. She could feel her blood sugar peaking to an unholy level, but it didn¡¯t matter. She was dead already. This was the true value of immortality, she realized. She could enjoy this bugger every day for the rest of forever, and she could just replace her heart and arteries whenever they complained. God, magic was amazing. ¡°Momo, you are so gross.¡± ¡°Sorry,¡± Momo said, bacon sticking out between her teeth. She did not feel an ounce of guilt. ¡°What were we talking about?¡± ¡°Oh, nothing. Just the fact that you disappeared on me and the family for twelve years. Nothing of importance. Please, just focus on your burger.¡± Okay, now she felt an ounce of guilt. Maybe two ounces. She set down her burger, her fingers a mess of sticky red sauce. ¡°I hate this sensation,¡± she grimaced. ¡°Being¡­ sticky?¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s the worst thing in the world.¡± ¡°I have a bright idea. Have you thought about not eating burgers like a starving animal?¡± ¡°No,¡± Momo said, glaring. ¡°Just give me your napkins.¡± ¡°No,¡± he repeated, bunching his unused napkins into a ball in his hand. ¡°They¡¯re mine.¡± ¡°You¡¯re not even using them!¡± ¡°Because I eat like a civilized person!¡± ¡°Oh, now you do,¡± she groaned. ¡°I remember when Appa was looking into the price of getting you into a class for kids with underdeveloped manners.¡± Daehyun laughed loudly. ¡°The one he was going to send both of us to!¡± Momo squinted at him. ¡°Just give me the napkins.¡± He stared at her with a shit-eating grin for a few mortifying seconds before he finally, slowly, petulantly dumped the napkins onto her plate. She grumbled as she cleaned her fingers. ¡°Thank you,¡± she said quietly. ¡°Anything for my dead sister.¡± She opened her mouth to correct him, but she found that she couldn¡¯t. ¡°Daehyun¡­¡± She sighed. ¡°I¡¯m not sure how to begin.¡± He crossed his arms. ¡°Try¡­ twelve years ago. That should do it.¡± She pursed her lips and stared beyond her brother, looking at the enormous, wooden ¡°farm-to-table¡± sign hanging on the wall. It paired well with the ¡°Closed Sunday for Another Health Inspection¡± poster hanging directly next to it. Inhaling, she focused back on her brother¡¯s face. She knew she couldn¡¯t put this off any longer. She had to face the music. She had to own up to everything that had happened, even if she didn¡¯t mean it to happen that way. It wasn¡¯t like she chose to get whisked away to Alois, but in all honesty, Albany had just been step one in her escape plan. ¡°You¡¯re not going to believe me,¡± she prefaced it with. When he frowned, looking to interrupt, she cut him off. ¡°But you¡¯re going to have to hear me out. Start to finish.¡± He zipped his lips. ¡°Okay, so¡­ Don¡¯t tell Appa this,¡± She winced. ¡°But I might have been failing out of college.¡± *** She had no idea how long she talked for. It could have been an hour or three; all she knew was the hands of the clock on the wall were in a far different place than they had started. The sun was pink on the horizon, and the parking lot outside Freddie¡¯s had emptied considerably. Only a blue SUV and Daehyun¡¯s hot red ferrari¡ªhe couldn¡¯t outrun all his boyish desires¡ªremained to simmer under the summer sky. This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. ¡°So let me get this straight,¡± her brother said, pointing an accusatory finger over the carcass of her burger. His face was visibly exhausted; as if she had aged him three years during her monologue. ¡°You expect me to believe that you died from food poisoning, became some sort of magical action hero in a different universe, then somehow became a god, crawled your way back here to finally say hi, and even after all that, you¡¯re still not sick of cheeseburgers?¡± ¡°That¡¯s about right,¡± she said, picking a stray fry from his abandoned plate. It was stiff. ¡°Momo!¡± he whisper-shouted, taking her by the shoulders over the table. The fly flopped onto the ground mid-bite. She frowned at it. ¡°You¡¯re insane!¡± ¡°I told you you wouldn¡¯t believe me!¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t expect you to tell me you think you¡¯re a god!¡± ¡°Well!¡± she flung her hands up. ¡°I didn¡¯t expect to become one. But here we are.¡± ¡°No. I don¡¯t accept that,¡± he huffed, shaking his head. He let her go and rolled back into the bright red booth they were occupying. It was about as uncomfortable as sitting on a bowling ball. ¡°If you want me to believe something as insane as that, you¡¯re going to have to prove it. Show me.¡± He lifted up a fry. ¡°Turn this fry into a butterfly.¡± She rolled her eyes. ¡°I can¡¯t just turn fries into butterflies.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t give me that attitude like what I¡¯m asking isn¡¯t completely rational compared to what you just put me through for the past two hours.¡± That shut her up. She bit down on her lip. She knew he was serious. Daehyun was as stubborn as a bull. That wasn¡¯t new. He¡¯d always been this way. It wasn¡¯t exactly a response she could blame him for, either¡ªshe would have asked him to do the exact same thing if the situations were reversed. But she was scared that the moment she used her powers in a noticeable way, the Nether would catch on somehow, and all hell would break loose. Screw it. What was the worst that could happen? If some alarm bell did go off, by all accounts she¡¯d just be sent back to Valerica, and have to redo her Reaping mission again. No big deal. She wasn¡¯t exactly a fan of Richard Smith anyway. They¡¯d wipe Daehyun¡¯s memory, and she could just visit him again and then tell him she was in some kind of coma instead. ¡°Okay,¡± She took a long breath in. ¡°I¡¯ll show you.¡± She looked down at her plate. There was still a crumb of burger meat left on it. She picked it up between two of her fingers and raised it to her face, just above her nose. ¡°Does this magic trick involve fast food, too?¡± Momo glared at him. ¡°Shut up.¡± She took a quick look over her shoulder. The only remaining employee was a guy with a mop scrubbing the floor in a mindless circle while he played a Match-3 game on his phone. Besides him, there was also a family sitting a few booths behind her, but they were busy monitoring their toddler who was currently flopping around on the floor with her iPad. None of them were looking in her direction, but Momo crouched down into her seat regardless. Daehyun gave her an increasingly exasperated look. Before he could interrupt her again, Momo closed her eyes and whispered the spell to herself. When she opened them again, whatever Daehyun had hoped to say had completely died on his tongue. His expression was one of complete bafflement. She glanced at the window next to them, giving her a glimpse of her new form. Hunched over, grumpy, and as wrinkled as a candy wrapper¡ªshe had become Old Man Liang. She wasn¡¯t sure why he had come to mind of all people, but there he was. Momo tugged at the old man¡¯s uneven collar, straightening it like she¡¯d always wanted to. ¡°So?¡± Momo said, turning to her brother. She was surprised by just how much effort it took her to produce the sound. It was like she was fighting her lungs tooth and nail just to heave out the breath, and even then it sounded like the dying whine of an engine. Daehyun had gone pale. ¡°You¡¯re dead. I mean¡ª he. He¡¯s dead.¡± ¡°It¡¯s just a costume,¡± Momo said. ¡°A very uncomfortable one. Man, I can feel exactly how many cigarettes this guy smoked in his life. They¡¯re all sitting right here.¡± She motioned to the nape of her neck, and pressed down lightly. ¡°Dear god. The guy¡¯s skin is like sandpaper.¡± ¡°This is so gross. You seriously had to pick him of all people?¡± Daehyun whined, shielding his eyes like he had stared too long at the sun. ¡°I believe you, alright! Just¨C go back!¡± ¡°Crybaby. Fine.¡± You¡¯re out of Mana. Momo balked at the text that popped up in front of her. ¡°You¡¯re kidding me.¡± ¡°What?¡± Daehyun yelped, peeking through his fingers. ¡°Are you normal again?¡± ¡°No,¡± Momo moaned. ¡°It looks like I¡¯m stuck like this.¡± He slapped his hands down on the table and looked at her in horror. ¡°Stuck? What do you mean stuck? You¡¯re just going to look like an old dead dude forever?¡± ¡°Calm down. It¡¯s just for the time being,¡± she said, then yawned. She was suddenly very sleepy. She had the strange desire to ignore the bill completely and blame her old age if anybody noticed. Damn. Did old people really think like that? ¡°I just need to save up some more Mana. Apparently I¡¯ve spent too much of it the last few days.¡± Daehyun dragged the skin of his face down with his hands. ¡°I really can¡¯t handle this.¡± ¡°Imagine how I felt when it all started.¡± He shook his head, seemingly unable to come up with a retort for that one. ¡°Okay. It¡¯s time for you to drive me home. I need to lay down,¡± Momo grunted, pushing herself slowly up from her seat. It took about as much exertion as it used to take her back in college, before her transmigration, which was extremely concerning for her past self. ¡°My old man bones are giving out on me.¡± ¡°Alright. Fine. I need to sleep off all this trauma anyway,¡± Daehyun said, wrapping his arm around her waist as she stumbled upward. ¡°Try not to die again on the walk to the car.¡± ¡°No promises.¡± *** Back at Fred¡¯s, the toddler waddled up to her mommy at the booth. The child had taken a rather interesting photograph with her iPad, and was intent on showing her. ¡°Mama,¡± she said, raising the device above her head. ¡°Weird man. Look.¡± Her mother¡¯s face went pale. 288 – Revelations Daehyun¡¯s apartment was like a thirteen-year-old boy¡¯s dream with a millionaire¡¯s budget. The walls were cluttered with glossy posters of Eminem and Tupac. Signed vinyl records and limited edition sneakers lined the shelves. The faint smell of leather from the high-end furniture mixed with the lingering scent of stale energy drinks. It was a clash of high-end decadence and adolescent nostalgia, like a luxurious frat house that forgot to grow up. ¡°I never imagined what you¡¯d do if you suddenly had a lot of money,¡± Momo said, gobsmacked as she looked around. ¡°Mostly because I never envisioned you having any money. But this¡­ is exactly it. Yep. God. I can¡¯t believe I let the shiny suit lead me to believe you¡¯d actually matured. Also¨CI apologize on behalf of our ancestors, but I¡¯m not taking off my shoes. Old Man Liang does not have the muscle.¡± Daehyun laughed and fell into his massive gaming chair, beginning to undo his tie as he gestured for Momo to sit on the couch. She ignored him, hobbling instead toward an old mahogany cabinet that was concealing something of great interest¡ªlittle golden statues. ¡°Hey, be careful in there,¡± Daehyun warned. ¡°You can rip on my Eminem shrine all you want, but those things actually mean something to me.¡± That much was obvious. Unlike the haphazard decoration dominating the rest of his glorified bachelor pad, the trophies were polished like new shoes, and arranged at perfect angles, as if he¡¯d gone in with a ruler and measured each to a T. It was endearing. To Momo¡¯s surprise, they weren¡¯t just participation trophies from his long formative years in soccer camp. Engravings on the base of the figures boasted titles like ¡°Best Male Lead¡± and ¡°Outstanding Performance in a Drama Series.¡± Her brother, the award-winning movie star. It was just¡­ How could she put this¡­ Stupid. That was the word she was looking for. Momo barked out a laugh suddenly. ¡°You do realize this is a show about me, right?¡± Daehyun said nothing, so after a moment, she turned her head to look at him. She found the man staring into nothing, his eyes wide. Oh shit. She had meant that as a joke. ¡°Oh my god,¡± he said. He was starting to look pale. He dug his hands into his hair. ¡°Oh my god, that is so¡ª I knew it was too fucking similar! I knew it!¡± He shot out of his chair and began pacing around the room. ¡°Whoa, whoa, whoa,¡± Momo said, waving her hands to try and get her brother¡¯s attention. He continued pacing, and she didn¡¯t have the physical mass to stop him, so she just put her saggy arms on her old man hips and tried to sound calming. ¡°It¡¯s okay. It¡¯s a nice thing, isn¡¯t it? That we¡¯ve been connected somehow even from such a distance¡­¡± He groaned, coming to kneel down on his carpet. ¡°That¡¯s not what I¡¯m grossed out by, stupid.¡± ¡°What? Grossed out?¡± ¡°I have a massive crush on my co-star.¡± Momo¡¯s mouth opened, then closed. ¡°You don¡¯t mean¡­¡± He snapped his head toward her. His face was visibly twitching. ¡°Yes,¡± he said, slowly raising his body from the floor. ¡°I have a crush on the girl who is playing a horrendous Hollywood interpretation of my fucking sister.¡± He stormed toward the balcony door. ¡°I¡¯m going to go end my life real quick. Be right back.¡± The balcony door slammed shut behind him. Momo watched through the glass as he frantically pawed at his pockets, finally pulling out a crumpled pack of Lucky Strike cigarettes. Smoke curled around his face as he downed three of them in rapid succession, the orange embers glowing briefly before being snuffed out. Meanwhile, Momo laughed harder than she had in her entire life. *** Old Man Liang leaned over Daehyun¡¯s shoulder as they scrolled through the IMDb page for one Ariana Kim-Hayes. The screen glowed with a photo of a woman who looked like an Instagram filter made flesh. Perfectly styled hair framed her face, which was so airbrushed it seemed allergic to pores. Momo wasn¡¯t completely certain she hadn¡¯t been AI-generated. ¡°Nevermind,¡± she said. ¡°The casting director nailed it. She¡¯s essentially my twin.¡± Daehyun glared at her. ¡°Say another word, and I might actually throw up on you,¡± he muttered, clicking through the actress¡¯s gallery. ¡°Also, no she is not. You look like a thumb, and Ariana looks like an ethereal¡­ goddess. Goddammit. Not a goddess. She just looks like¡­ a woman. A very nice, smart, beautiful¡ª I need another cigarette.¡± Ignoring the rest of his sentence, Momo complained, ¡°Did you just call me a thumb? Don¡¯t be so rude to Old Man Liang. I¡¯d say he¡¯s definitely more shriveled peach. Maybe with a touch of dehydrated corpse.¡± She cracked a grin at him in an attempt to make light of what was obviously a dreadful revelation for him, but it probably would have been more endearing if the old man had any teeth left, so she closed her mouth instead. ¡°So, Ariana, huh? Do you think Appa would approve? I don¡¯t see any medical degrees in her bio.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t even try,¡± he huffed, closing out of the window. ¡°I¡¯m not talking to you about girls.¡± ¡°We¡¯re grown ups now. Of course you can talk to me about girls.¡± ¡°Oh, really?¡± Daehyun swiveled around in his chair, his eyebrow arched in defiance. ¡°Does that mean you¡¯re finally going to admit to me that you¡¯re into girls?¡± Momo¡¯s face tightened, but she took a deep breath and stood her ground. ¡°Yes. And, unlike you, I actually have a girlfriend. Her name is Sumire. She¡¯s a very cool, very sexy pirate, and we co-rule an entire kingdom together. Next question.¡± This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Daehyun¡¯s jaw dropped. Momo felt unusually proud of herself. ¡°Holy shit,¡± he said, eyes wide. ¡°You¡¯re serious?¡± ¡°Somehow, yes.¡± Daehyun looked down at his lap, a groan escaping his lips. He glanced up at Momo, looking more nervous than she¡¯d ever seen him. ¡°Ariana¡¯s¡­ well¡­¡± He hesitated, swallowing hard. ¡°Fuck it. She makes me laugh. She¡¯s kind. She¡¯s the top listener to The Trials and Tribulations of a Bay Area Bozo on Spotify, even though I told her it¡¯s garbage,¡± His cheeks burned, but Momo could see right through it. He was beaming like a schoolboy. ¡°If I¡¯m being totally real with you, she might be the love of my life. She¡¯s also¡­ incredibly¡­ well. Married.¡± Momo froze. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. She¡¯s¡ª what?!¡± *** ¡°¡­It¡¯s outrageous. All because of that girl, there hasn¡¯t been a war or a pestilence or a bloody royal contest for the throne on Eziroth in centuries. I can¡¯t even get a flu season past the System Administrators now, let alone a famine¡ª" With a polite smile that had become second nature, Roger cut him off. "I hear you, Frezrick. Really, I do. But I¡¯ve got a mountain of Iceland¡¯s history to rewrite before the deadline. Let¡¯s catch up later over some beer, alright? Good luck with your famine." He shut the door just as Frezrick opened his mouth to continue, the muffled rant fading as Roger turned and exhaled. Frezrick was a handful, and these planetary management types could talk for hours about the most bizarre grievances. Roger was very glad he specialized in Worldbuilding and Propaganda back in university. Shaking his head, he turned his attention to his computer. He swore he had turned it off to go on lunch break, but the fan was whizzing like crazy. Not only that, but his monitor was flashing red. His stomach turned. It only flashed red for one reason. Level 4 Incident: URGENT. Just as he¡¯d thought¡ªthe Earthly public had seen something they shouldn¡¯t. And telling by the grade of the incident, it wasn¡¯t just Morgana doing that thing where she randomly chooses corpses to reanimate and traumatize children during Halloween. No, the last time he''d seen a Level 4 was during that viral monkey interview with Lesser Goddess Valerica. Normally, Level 4 incidents only happened once every few decades. Two occurring so close together? That was definitely cause for concern. He had never heard of another Lore Administrator having to deal with two critical incidents so close together. Dropping into his chair, he clicked the notification. Instantly, his screen filled with rapid popups. Images of a woman¡ªyoung, vibrant, somehow familiar?¡ªmorphing before his eyes into an old man. The transformation was jarring, her smooth skin sagging, her hair fading to white. One second she was laughing, and the next, she had become a hunched, weary figure. The transformation was captured in a single blurry frame, but somehow the amateur feel of the shot made it all the more believable. Popups continued to flood his screen. **Viral Visual Anomaly: District Reports Incoming.** **Global Headlines: Age-Defying Anomaly: Woman¡¯s Sudden Transformation Captured on Camera; Anomal¨ªa que Desaf¨ªa la Edad: Transformaci¨®n Repentina de Mujer Capturada en C¨¢mara; ??? ??: ?? ??? ?? ? ?? ?? ??? ???; San Francisco Shocked: Woman Morphs into Elderly Man in Stunning Images; Eerie Transformation: Woman¡¯s Age Reversal Creates Internet Frenzy; Õ𾪵IJ¡¶¾ÏÖÏó£ºÄêÇáÅ®ÐÔʵʱ±ä³ÉÀÏÄêÄÐ×Ó** Information spat out of Roger¡¯s terminal as his fingers flew over the keyboard. He began operating on pure muscle memory, launching the usual protocol for incidents of this degree. He wouldn¡¯t panic, he told himself. It was all routine by now: identify the affected regions, isolate the media, and run containment measures to suppress any viral spread. But just as he began isolating the image, a new alert flashed: **Error: Image Projected to be Shared Over 200.2 Million Times Within The Next One Month** **Cannot Edit The Timeline At This Scale** He froze. That number was far beyond his usual threshold. A single slip-up, sure, that could be patched. But hundreds of millions? This would go even wider than the monkey. He glided his shaking hand to a hidden control panel on the side of his desk, sliding open a panel to reveal a set of keys and switches. With a practiced motion, he inserted a key into a small lock and turned it, unlocking the access to high-level commands. He then punched in a sequence of numbers on a keypad. A digital display screen instantly flickered to life, showing the options for mass belief reshaping. Roger selected the ¡°Execute Misinformation Bots¡± protocol from the menu, and the screen updated with the command settings. He¡¯d need more than just social media to undo this, but it was a temporary stopgap. After the automated programs started running, he would start making calls¡­ An error message blinked across the screen: **Command Failed: System Override Detected.** ¡°What the¡ª?¡± Roger muttered, his heart racing. He tried again, only to meet the same error. The entire misinformation system was down, and it wasn¡¯t coming back online. A low hum vibrated through the floorboards. Roger looked up, realizing this wasn¡¯t just a tech glitch. At first, Roger thought it was the usual noise of the office¡ªrattling carts, hurried footsteps¡ªbut then the hum became a steady, rhythmic pulse, like the quiet flap of wings from right outside his lowly cubicle. Slowly, Roger looked up. The doorway, already small and plain, darkened. There, towering over it, stood the Goddess Ytra, her form too tall for the frame. She ducked slightly, her iridescent wings brushing the edges of the door frame as she stepped inside. Her robes shifted between cool blues and greens as she moved, the soft glow of the crystal in her staff illuminating the space. Roger swallowed, pushing back his chair as the towering figure of the goddess loomed over him. She straightened, and even in the cramped office, her presence seemed to expand, filling every corner of the room. Her eyes fixed on him. ¡°Roger Earth,¡± her voice was gentle, yet it echoed with a power that made the air around him feel heavy. ¡°It appears one of my disciples has chosen to make your life difficult.¡± Roger¡¯s hands trembled slightly as he looked up at her. He tried to hide his obvious panic, bowing slightly and offering her a placid smile. ¡°Goddess Ytra,¡± he said, clearing his throat. His monitors flashed behind him, painting his entire face red. ¡°To what do I owe the pleasure?¡± ¡°I think you already know.¡± Her eyes drifted to the monitor, then back to him. ¡°Do not take this as a personal failure,¡± she said, gliding into the seat across from him. ¡°This incident was inevitable. Earth has been building towards this for a long time now.¡± Roger felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. He had heard of Ytra visiting the office before. But only as a warning. This didn¡¯t sound like a warning. ¡°As you know, Earth is a nascent planet. Nascent planets are given custodians such as yourself to maintain their equilibrium. But¡­¡± She studied her long white nails. To Roger, they were starting to look like knives. ¡°That equilibrium has now been breached,¡± she breathed. ¡°Earth has reached its maximum threshold for supernatural incidents. The population has exceeded its naivety, and it cannot be managed or rerouted any longer by the traditional means. They have seen too many things they shouldn¡¯t, Roger. They are in a perpetual state of confusion. They don¡¯t know what to believe anymore. You can see it in every facet of their lives. They know they are being lied to. To continue like this any longer would constitute an abuse of power.¡± She looked up at him, and her eyes were wide, emotionless. She was not smiling. ¡°You have failed in your role as truthkeeper, and now things must be corrected.¡± Roger¡¯s entire life began disintegrating before him. ¡°Does that mean...?¡± Ytra¡¯s voice was steady, and she nodded solemnly. ¡°Yes.¡± She took a step closer, and placed her hand gently on his shoulder. White light began to emanate from her palm, and tendrils of it surrounded Roger¡¯s trembling body like a curling serpent. His clothes and skin started to slowly dissolve, disintegrating back into the Nether from which they had originally emerged. He had served his purpose, and now he would be returned. ¡°It is time,¡± she whispered. ¡°Earth must be initialized.¡± 289 – Home Eventually, Momo¡¯s mana regenerated, and she was back in her own skin again. After she got reaccustomed to walking like a person in their twenties, she and Daehyun spent the next few days together exploring the city and revisiting old, precious memories¡ªmemories like the drug dealer¡¯s apartment next to their childhood home. ¡°What was his name again?¡± Momo asked, fanning herself. The sun was bearing down extra hot on San Francisco that day, lighting the pavement like a match. She had half a mind to transform herself into a new sort of human who didn¡¯t produce sweat, but she had learned her lesson by now. No more wasting mana. Not when she might need it later. ¡°Christopher Smith,¡± Daehyun replied, kicking a rock on the street with his foot. ¡°No way. That¡¯s not what I remember,¡± Momo said, looking up at the two story home. The condition of it had only deteriorated even more since she last saw it. Half the windows were shattered, graffiti smeared across the stairway. ¡°I swear it was something way stupider.¡± ¡°Oh.¡± Daehyun chuckled lowly. ¡°You mean Chrizzo Schmizzo.¡± ¡°That was it,¡± Momo groaned. She could feel herself traveling through time just hearing it. ¡°God. Mom¡¯s face every time you told her you were going down the block to see Schmizzo. It was like you had told her you were going to go buy a tattoo gun and come home a nazi. She¡¯d yell at Dad to call the police, then Dad would get all heated, pretend to call them¡­¡± ¡°...And end up calling his friend from work instead,¡± Daehyun finished, a knowing grin on his face. ¡°The one he always does karaoke with. How did it take Mom so long to realize that Dad wasn¡¯t exactly ¡®reporting a crime¡¯? Like, why would he be singing Bon Jovi to 911?¡± Momo giggled and stepped onto the stairs, her hand gliding along the chipped wooden railing. She could see them here, both of them¡ªseven, eight, nine years old. Back then, Mom hadn¡¯t hated Chris so much. Before she discovered the miniature weed plantation growing in his backyard, Chris had actually been their babysitter for a short time when both her parents were working. Momo had fond memories of his apartment¡ªit always smelled sweet, probably chemically sweet, looking back. And he had a really cool girlfriend. ¡°Remember Annie?¡± Momo said, looking down at him from the stoop. Daehyun snorted. ¡°Schmizzo¡¯s ex that you were totally in love with?¡± Momo flushed. She didn¡¯t deny it, though. Annie was undoubtedly her first love. She could recall her vividly even now¡ªsix feet and two inches of heavily tattooed gorgeousness. Practically an amazonian angel. And okay, upon reflection, she was one hundred percent both a junkie and a professional shoplifter, regularly taking Momo to the mall, her smudged red-lipstick smile gleaming as she urged Momo to grab whatever she wanted¡ªlollipops, toy cars, action figures, one hundred dollar gift cards. ¡°We¡¯ll pay the shop back later,¡± she¡¯d say. ¡°Send them a check in the mail, or whatever.¡± The emphasis had clearly been on the whatever, but that had not concerned a nine year old. Why would it? Annie had gotten her everything she wanted, and never yelled at her once. That was about as rare a person as Momo could find. She¡¯d even help Momo with her English homework sometimes, helping her write her daily journal about ¡°life at home.¡± Looking back, those daily journals¡ªconsisting of their thinly veiled shoplifting adventures and escapades to Chris¡¯s ¡°customer¡¯s¡± houses¡ªwere probably what landed Momo¡¯s poor parents in so many meetings with the school counselor, but whatever. It had been clearly worth it to spend more time with the angel that just so happened to take shape as the drug dealer¡¯s live-in girlfriend. ¡°I wanted to date her so bad,¡± Momo confessed. ¡°Fortunately the feelings weren¡¯t mutual.¡± Momo rolled her eyes. ¡°So Mom and Dad don¡¯t live here anymore?¡± That was the question of the hour. The one they had so far been dancing around. Momo had told Daehyun she wanted to see their parents, she just had no idea what to say. He had told her to get in the car and stop being so anxious. It was a tale as old as time. ¡°No, not anymore,¡± he said. He seemed nervous when he said it, though, so Momo narrowed her eyes at him, descending from the staircase. ¡°They live¡­ over there.¡± If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. His finger gently lifted right across the street. Momo¡¯s eyes followed it. Oh my god. ¡°You¡¯re not serious,¡± she whispered. Daehyun shrugged, but a small, shy smile crept on his face. The house across the street wasn¡¯t just any house. It was the nicest one in the neighborhood, with a large white gate and tall trees shielding it from the road. This was the house¡ªtheir family¡¯s dream house. Mom loved it for the garden, Dad for the ridiculous Roman statue out front, and Momo and Daehyun? They loved it because kids just love stuff like that. It was a fantasy. It was the house they swore they¡¯d live in when they were rich and famous. Of course, that was never supposed to actually happen. Momo began to tremble. Daehyun put a firm, comforting hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him, and for the first time in her life, she didn¡¯t feel like the older one anymore. ¡°It¡¯s going to be okay,¡± he said, then cracked a smile. ¡°Their daughter isn¡¯t actually dead, she¡¯s just a goddess who got me a TV gig. It¡¯s good news, remember?¡± *** The interior of the house was nothing like Momo expected. She stepped through the door and found herself standing in what could only be described as a compact palace. The ceiling was far higher than it had any right to be for an apartment, with ornate moldings that stretched across the corners like the remnants of an old cathedral. Sunlight filtered through floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a golden hue on the polished floors. But for all the grandeur, the house still felt deeply familiar. The scent of Mom''s cooking clung to the air¡ªan unmistakable mix of soy sauce, garlic, and sesame oil that could never be masked, even by the old wood and high ceilings. Family photos cluttered the walls¡ªcrooked frames with pictures of their awkward teenage years, their parents¡¯ wedding, and Momo and Daehyun as toddlers, splashing around in a kiddy pool in the backyard. They still remember me. It was a stupid thought. But it still made her chest swell uncomfortably. Their parents had truly made this place their home. An oversized calendar with hand-written notes in Korean hung in the hallway, and a collection of cheap plastic slippers waited by the entrance. Momo instinctively removed her own shoes, feeling that familiar pang of shame as she checked to see if she had brought any dirt in. She felt Daehyun squeeze her shoulder again. Anxiety was clearly written all over her trembling body. But how was she supposed to be chill about this? This wasn¡¯t just an apartment, it was a strange mix of surreal and familiar¡ªa life they had only ever imagined as children, now somehow real, only she had been dead for twelve years of that fantasy. From the kitchen, the low hum of the television buzzed in the background, mixed with the sound of water running in the sink. Her pulse quickened. She felt suddenly as if she was in a horror movie, but instead of being the unsuspecting victim, she was the villain waiting with a knife at the door. She felt a helplessness she hadn¡¯t felt in a very long time. ¡°Daehyun-ah! Is that you?¡± came the sharp call of their mother from further inside the house. Tears immediately threatened to fall out of Momo¡¯s eyes just hearing her voice. She felt pathetic. This wasn¡¯t her fault, she reminded herself, but it didn¡¯t help. Everything felt like her fault. Twelve years. Twelve years! Maybe if she¡¯d just found a way to ascend a little sooner. But would she even have visited? Would she even be here right now if it wasn¡¯t for Richard Smith and his impending visit by the Reaper? Everything was closing in, her vision narrowing from a wide field to a small cone. She faintly heard her mom speaking in the background, jumping into one of her usual monologues. ¡°Daehyun-ah, have you seen that picture on the TV? The girl turning into the old man? Auntie tells me it was taken nearby here. And your appa swears the demon girl looks like your sister. Same hair. I think he is losing his head. Come look at this.¡± ¡°Do not lie to our son. I am not losing my head,¡± came the gruff reply of their father. ¡°Losing my hair, yes. But my head knows Momo-yah when I see her.¡± Her name, said so softly, so tenderly, in her father¡¯s aged voice, nearly struck her like a dagger through the heart. Momo barely had time to react before she heard footsteps shuffling toward them. She wasn¡¯t ready. She couldn¡¯t do this. She gave a frenzied look around the hallway. There was a broom closet there, slightly ajar. Before she could think of how stupid it was, how it was only delaying the inevitable, she opened the door to the closet, and shoved herself in amongst the endless coats. Some of them were so dusty Momo questioned if they had come on the plane with them from Korea, but it didn¡¯t matter. She plugged her nose and gave Daehyun a desperate look¡ªone that very clearly said, ¡°I don¡¯t know what I¡¯m doing, but you better not make it worse¡±¡ªbefore quietly shutting the door. A younger Daehyun would have dragged her out of there by her hair, but this one didn¡¯t. This one was too patient for his own good. He just heaved out an exasperated sigh, and greeted their mother. The sound of slippers scuffing against the polished floor made Momo¡¯s heart race even faster, like a drumbeat that wouldn¡¯t stop. ¡°Daehyun-ah. You look different. What did you do to your hair? Oh. And don¡¯t use that closet for your coat. That closet is for old things we want to throw out.¡± Jiwoo¡¯s voice was so close Momo could practically feel her breath against the door. She visualized the woman on the other side, an older, grayer version of the mom she remembered. ¡°Wait. Daehyun-ah. Whose shoes are those? Those are girl shoes. Not your size.¡± A silent beat passed through the room. ¡°Daehyun-ah, what is this? A surprise? Is someone in that closet?¡± ¡°No, no, wait¡ª¡± A hand wrapped around the doorknob. Momo tried to keep it closed, clawed around in the dark searching for a solution, but found that there was nothing to hold onto. There was nothing separating them anymore except a panel of oak and four hundred particles of dust. There was no god to pray to. And what use would that be anyway? She was god, and she had divined herself right into this broom closet. Slowly, the door opened. And everything she had been running from stood right in front of her. 290 – Demon’s Home For Dinner The door opened. And hell immediately broke loose. Her mother¡¯s entire body went rigid. Her eyes locked onto Momo, and her face twisted in disbelief, the wrinkles in her skin contorting to cartoonish dimensions. Meanwhile, Momo¡¯s lungs refused to inflate. All the muscles in her body clenched in unison. Any hope of a breath or a word or even a scream emerging from her lips was completely fruitless. From afar, the pair of them must have looked frozen in time¡ªtwo women with the same apple-shaped faces, thin black hair, and frenzied nerves stuck in paralysis. What do you say to your own mother after twelve entire years? What do you say when she thinks you¡¯ve been dead in a forest in Upstate New York? Momo supposed it couldn¡¯t hurt to start with hello. ¡°Annyeonghaseyo,¡± Momo mumbled, bowing awkwardly. The Korean sounded utterly clunky falling out of her lips. ¡°Umma¡ª¡± ¡°Demon!¡± Her mother gasped, her hand flying to her chest as if Momo had only just appeared there at that moment. She fled away in fear, nearly stumbling onto the floor as she backed herself into the hallway wall. Her face had gone completely white¡ªlike street chalk. ¡°The transforming demon from the television has visited us, looking for blood! Daehyun, get your appa! Rebuke, rebuke!¡± Momo¡¯s face turned bright cherry red. This was officially the most embarrassing thing to ever happen to her. ¡°No, no, no. Umma, I¡¯m not a demon,¡± she insisted, feeling less and less confident by the second as she emerged from the broom closet. As she stepped out, her mom shrieked and picked up one of the plastic slippers from the hallway floor, holding it like a weapon in front of herself. ¡°Back, back!¡± the woman yelped. Their father¡¯s muffled footsteps began approaching unenthusiastically from the living room. ¡°What is all this commotion?¡± he yawned. Daehyun tried to intervene, putting a hand on their mother¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Umma, put down the shoe. You¡¯re being ridiculous. This is really Momo¡ªshe¡¯s alive.¡± Clearly, this was not persuasive. Jiwoo flipped the shoe in his direction, her eyes narrowing at her son as she waved the slipper towards him accusatory. He held up his hands like a cop had pulled him over on the highway. ¡°Auntie Jeji was right.¡± She shook the slipper. ¡°Hollywood is corrupting your soul.¡± He groaned. ¡°Umma.¡± Momo pinched the bridge of her nose. It seemed that it didn¡¯t matter if she was dead or alive, demon or goddess, twelve years in the grave or twelve years old, it did not stop her from being involuntarily weaponized against her little brother. ¡°These rich people consort with the devil, Daehyun-ah,¡± their mother continued, completely ignoring Momo now as she swung the slipper around the air, gesticulating wildly. ¡°They make blood sacrifices. Bring back dead. And now here you are, walking into our home so brazenly with a dokkaebi at your side. You should be ashamed of yourself.¡± Their father at this point had made his slow, unrushed journey into the hallway, and was now standing a foot or so behind Jiwoo. He had aged only in the face, with thick-rimmed bright blue glasses shielding saggy eyes. The stark color of them almost made Momo laugh. She could only imagine the fight they must have spurred when he bought them. ¡°Eh, Jiwoo, we are in America now. No dokkaebis in the floorboards, only guns and ghosts.¡± Seeing Momo, his eyebrows furrowed. He lifted the glasses over his forehead, looking at her with his bare brown pupils as if to verify her existence with his own eyes. After a moment of staring into the blur, he settled them back on his nose. His face was expressionless. Momo¡¯s heart sank. She had been naive, expecting anything more. Her mother was right. She was a demon now. Unwanted in this world. There was not enough love left between them to bridge that gap. But then her father¡¯s hand snapped through the air, stealing the slipper from Jiwoo¡¯s grasp. If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. ¡°Enough.¡± Her mother turned to him as if bitten, but before she could complain, her father had thrown the slipper onto the floor like it was nothing, like it was worth less than a grain of salt¡ªand took a large, eager step towards Momo. He extended his warm hands, unguarded. ¡°My daughter.¡± He wrapped his arms around her, and pulled in tightly. *** As Momo sank into the velvety living room chair, a million questions being pelted her way from the party of two on the opposite couch, the thought idly passed through her head¡ª So much for the dress. She was greeting her parents for the first time in twelve years, had the power of unlimited shapeshifting magic at her disposal, and she was somehow wearing her #1 Most Valuable Player t-shirt from her middle school basketball team (she had been so scared that she only played two games all season, and scored 0 points and 0 points respectively), a pair of heavily ripped jeans, and worse for wear black sneakers. She couldn¡¯t even recall magic-ing those clothes onto her body; she must have done it subconsciously, back in the closet. This was how she felt her parents saw her, she supposed. Incapable. Small. Coddled. Destructive¡ª Daehyun placed a cup of hot tea in front of her, and gave her a sympathetic look. Somewhere inside, she was grateful. But she couldn¡¯t find it within herself to smile back at him. White noise was bubbling inside her ears, drowning out the droning voice of her mother. Her hand was trembling as she picked the tea up and blew on the top. ¡°Umma, you need to slow down. You¡¯re overwhelming her,¡± she heard Daehyun say to their mother as he slouched into the other living room chair. That one was an inheritance from the old house¡ªstained and crooked, nowhere near comfortable to sit in, but still something Jiwoo insisted on keeping. She was just like that. She didn¡¯t like losing things. A fact that was never more obvious then right now. After their long embrace had ended, Momo¡¯s father had led her to the living room, given her a kiss on the forehead, while Momo¡¯s mother had continued her inquisition from the couch. The elder Lim obviously didn¡¯t seem to know how to cope with the situation¡ªher mouth constantly opening and closing, flooding her daughter with questions to prove that it was really her and not some scheming extraterrestrial. Of course, the hard part was that her mom wasn¡¯t wrong. She was quite literally a demon from another plane wearing the face of her dead daughter. Except for one small detail¡ªthe demon in question still was, technically, their daughter. She took a deep breath in, digging her fingernails into her jeans. It didn¡¯t matter what or what she was or wasn¡¯t. She wasn¡¯t about to debate the Ship of Theseus with her parents. She was still Momo, through it all, shy and weak and yet surprisingly enduring¡ªand so, being herself, she had endured all the way from death to the afterlife to Alois and back again to this couch. It was just a matter of putting that into words. Unsurprisingly, she couldn¡¯t. Because the truth was, she had been dead to them for longer than twelve years. Dead ever since they dropped her off at her college dorm; hell, dead even before then, in high school, in middle school, locked in her room, alone, door locked, music on, computer fan whirring; wrapped up in a nest of repetitive, anxious thoughts¡ªworried she¡¯d disappoint them, worried she already had. A pencil glued to her nobbled, tired fingers, drawing to exercise her endless demons, filling up pages and pages of notebooks just trying to escape. The Momo before Alois was a different person. The Momo now was free. ¡°I don¡¯t have an explanation,¡± she said, looking up at them suddenly, adrenaline fueling her. ¡°I wish I did. But the truth is, a lot has happened to me. A lot of things that I¡¯m only just beginning to process myself.¡± She laughed, but it was cold. ¡°I really, truly wish I could put it all into a neat little package of digestible sentences and make this easy for you both to understand, to make this a little less painful, a little less confusing, but if I¡¯m being honest with myself, I just can¡¯t. I wouldn¡¯t know how. So the only thing I can do¡ªthe only thing I can truly control¡ªis the fact that I¡¯m here now, and¡­ that I¡¯ve missed you all. A lot. So much. Everyday. And I¡¯m asking for that to be enough. Enough for now.¡± Momo¡¯s eyes were shut completely tight by the end of her sentence, her arms wrapped protectively over her knees. She could almost feel the anger radiate from across from her. It was anger she knew well, expected even; this was not a house in which grievances were so easily washed away with words. She would not get away with this. And yet, to her surprise, her mother went quiet. It was the first true silence they¡¯d had since arriving here. All that accompanied them now was the soft noises of traffic from the street. Eventually, Jiwoo sighed, and ran her fingers through her hair. When she looked back up from her lap, she had a thin smile on her face. ¡°Ani. I am the sorry one, Momo,¡± she said quietly, and then turned to her husband. ¡°We have been rude. Your appa will run to the store and get some groceries for dinner.¡± Momo¡¯s jaw went slack. Was that it? That was all she had to say? And yet, she said nothing as Jiwoo lifted herself carefully off the couch, her age evident in the way she used her hand to balance on the wall. Taking a slow breath in, in the way that Momo did herself everyday, her mother made her way over to her, and slowly leaned down, placing her cheek flush to Momo¡¯s own. She could feel her mother¡¯s pulse in her own ear. ¡°My Momo-yah.¡± Oh. A single tear streaked down Momo¡¯s face. Jiwoo breathed out, then pulled away. ¡°We have a very treasured guest returning from a very long journey away,¡± her mother said, beaming down at her daughter. ¡°It is only right that we celebrate with her favorite meal. Come. Help me prepare the kitchen. The dishes are dirty. Your appa still does not know how to put them in the dishwasher, even after all this time. Unbelievable, isn¡¯t it?¡± She patted Momo¡¯s cheek, and started walking toward the kitchen. Something inside Momo¡¯s soul, like a strained muscle, finally unwound. 291 – Appa Momo awoke, to her great surprise, in her childhood bedroom. Something that would not be so shocking if she had ever lived in this apartment. She had stumbled to the room late last night after a long dinner, her hands prodding around in the dark to find the bedpost, and had failed to take in the room outside a quick search to find blankets. She had falsely assumed it would just be like any other room in her parent¡¯s new apartment¨Cblank walls, the occasional unopened cardboard box full of pantry items and socks. This was an assumption that haunted her immediately as she opened her eyes, and found herself surrounded, like a villain in the penultimate scene of a 2000¡¯s movie, by a cast of Jennifer Anniston, Halle Berry, Salma Hayek, and Angelina Jolie. ¡°Dear god.¡± She clapped her hands over her eyes, and then carefully peeled each finger from them. The portraits, vivid black and white sketches with horrid facial proportions, were arranged carefully and pristinely on the walls, with each actress that Momo had endured a brief artistic obsession over showcased like a museum exhibit. They were all stolen from her highschool sketchbook, the single one she had left behind¡ªtorn from their original dusty catacombs and plastered around the room like a bunch of police sketches. It wasn¡¯t just the sketches, either. There was the bedside table she had hand-painted as a toddler, a framed picture of her on the lap of the shopping mall Santa they had visited on their first American Christmas, and even the collection of Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy comics that Momo had hidden under her bed and hoped they would never discover. All stacked neatly on shelves; arranged alphabetically or by color. They kept¡­ all of this? Her room looked no different than the day she had left for college. A perfectly conserved artifact, frozen in time, waiting for her return as if it was some inevitability. It was as touching as it was painful. She would have to hug them extra hard before she left. Leaving. That was right. She had gotten so comfortable floating in the nostalgic soup of it all, she had nearly forgotten that her time here was limited. Inextricably linked to the deeply questionable fate of Richard Smith. As if reading her thoughts, the System¡¯s visual panel materialized in front of her, two fuzzy white numbers blinking in front of her her face: 1 day, 0 hours, 0 seconds. 23 hours, 59 minutes, 59 seconds. Huh. Richard Smith was destined to die in 23 hours, and all Momo could think about was whether there were any leftovers in the fridge. *** The unfortunate thing about being the Grim Reaper is that you''re never supposed to stay at the party for very long. Momo had always heard the saying that Death lingers¡ªbut in practice, it was more like Death knocks at the door, asks if you have any spare dishwasher detergent, then exits as soon as she possibly can, without so much as a thank you very much. This is what Momo contemplated as she sat at her mother¡¯s dining room table, her fork buried in some ice-cold dumplings. She hadn¡¯t wanted to turn on the stove in case she would wake anyone, and she felt that she needed more time to consider her options. A quick glance over at the analogue clock told her she wouldn¡¯t have much time to do that. It was already six AM, and her father rose as reliably as a robot for his morning smoke. So, to review the problem. His name was Richard Smith, and Momo still had no idea what to do with him. She knew that when she did help him pass along, that meant she¡¯d have to leave for the Nether, and she had no idea just how much time would pass on Earth before she could return again. That notion terrified her. Twelve years had passed while she was on Alois. What if she went back to the Nether, blinked for all of three seconds, and then returned to Earth to find herself at her brother¡¯s funeral? Yeah. No thanks. And worse¡ªwhat if she couldn¡¯t return that fast? The Nether was in complete disrepair. Valerica needed her help. Morgana needed her help. Sumire was probably still burning under the world¡¯s worst god-given heat wave. She felt like a mother who had left their toddler alone at the grocery store and then driven off a cliff into a ravine. There was so much left riding on her relatively small shoulders. Momo shook her head, dropping her fork into the plate. It clattered noisily against the bowl. This was just too much. She was ready to retire. Could gods even retire? She really should have read the fineprint a little more before signing up for this whole immortality business. I suddenly understand why Morgana¡¯s trying to host her own funeral. Momo huffed, and kneaded her temples. She would just have to shepard Richard as planned, and then get in touch with one of those System admins as soon as possible. They were dreadful, and very much hated her guts, but they probably had valuable information about how time translated from one planet to another. This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. If only there was a way to get into contact with Valerica from here. She sighed. No chance. If there was, she was sure Valerica would have already used that channel to spam her with endless messages. Still, as a precaution, Momo checked all of her System panels, but the scope of them was entirely limited to her singular quest¡ªtransmigrating one Richard Smith. Very annoying. Her back went rigid, her System immediately dematerializing as she heard the familiar scuffling of slippers towards the kitchen. Her father''s face peeked out from behind the wall, and he adjusted his blue glasses to take in the sight of Momo eating the dumplings straight out of the fridge. ¡°You¡¯re up early.¡± He gradually made his way over to the dining room table, then sat himself in the chair opposite her. She said nothing as he peeked into the small ceramic bowl that contained her sad breakfast. The judgment didn¡¯t require words. But of course, he provided them. ¡°Momo-yah, do you still not know how to work a stove top? I do not have any idea if you are twenty-two or thirty-two or fourty-two years old at this point, but any age above ten should understand how to add heat to a bowl of cold leftovers.¡± He looked deeply concerned. Momo flushed in embarrassment. ¡°Of course I do. I just¡­ didn''t want to wake anyone.¡± His lips formed an o. Then he nodded. ¡°I was worried someone had broken in when I heard a sound from the kitchen. I didn¡¯t know you had it in your ability to rise before the sun.¡± Momo rolled her eyes at him, but it was affectionate. ¡°I have a bit of a better schedule these days.¡± ¡°Is that so?¡± He paused. ¡°Death can really shock the system, I''ve heard. Reset a few core functions back to factory settings.¡± Momo blinked at him, nervous, but then he just laughed, giving her that familiar grin. ¡°Don''t you worry, Momo. I will still not bug you for the details. I have my own theories about where you have been, anyhow.¡± Now that surprised her. She had promised herself not to dive too far into the subject with her parents, but her curiosity got away from her, as usual. ¡°Oh yeah? You do?¡± ¡°Yes. I have had a lot of dreams.¡± He looked out of the window. After a moment, he pawed in his pocket for some Lucky Strike cigarettes, placing them on the table aside her breakfast. ¡°It''s strange, I have these dreams about you when you were younger, working at that big store in the¡­ the¡­ pregnant woman section?¡± ¡°The maternity section.¡± He waved his hand and yawned. ¡°Whatever you want to call it. I have dreams that you got lost one day in the pregnant section, and you came back¡­ different. Different hair, new clothes. You were much more talkative than before. Used your hands to speak, like an American.¡± He pushed the cigarettes closer to her. ¡°And you smoked these. I was so mad at you. What a terrible habit to pick up.¡± ¡°Your terrible habit, you mean?¡± He shrugged. She eyed the cigarette package, recognizing it immediately. These were the same cigarettes that she had seen in that broken Toyota Yaris in the Nether. The same cigarettes her younger clone had been smoking. The same cigarettes that Daehyun had out on his balcony. Before that first sighting in the Nether, Momo had never seen this brand of cigarettes before in her life. But now here they were, showing up everywhere, like a bee dusting pollen across the various timelines. Maybe they were merely an artifact of Momo¡¯s disruption¡ªa blinking signal in the dark to show that everything affects everything else. A small error in the giant warning log that started on the day that Momo arrived in Alois. Or maybe they were just cigarettes. ¡°I think I might know a little bit about that dream,¡± Momo whispered. ¡°I¡¯m sure you do.¡± He gave her a look as if he knew everything. Of course, that was impossible. But then again, her dad had always had these sort of inclinations. He wasn¡¯t the kind of guy to give psychic readings in the Target parking lot, but he did have a certain penchant for it. Knowing things that he shouldn¡¯t, that is. Her mom had always been the paranoid one, but her dad was observant. He would call Momo out of school before she even started sneezing. He would take her to get ice cream before she knew she was sad. He was the type to lift his hand and then, a second later, catch a ball he didn¡¯t know was headed there. It occurred to Momo that maybe he was a wizard in a world without wizards. A regular guy who could peek into the Nether, then go back to life as it was. ¡°So, when will you leave? Tomorrow, or today?¡± he asked. Momo¡¯s eyes widened as the sudden question pulled her from her thoughts. ¡°How did you¡­¡± ¡°I know you Momo. The world does not allow you to stay in one place very long. It has been very nice to have you back with us again, and I thank the universe for that momentary grace, but I will not be mad when you must leave us. I know it¡¯s not your fault.¡± He put his warm, aged hand, its veins now blue and protruding, over her own. ¡°But I will make one demand,¡± he said. ¡°A¡­ demand?¡± she muttered. ¡°Yes. You will have to write me letters.¡± ¡°Letters?¡± The cogs in her head felt like they badly needed oil. The look on his face wasn¡¯t full of anger; just tenderness. A patience she had forgotten she had inherited from him. He nodded. ¡°For as long as you are away. Even though I know we will see each other again, you will write to me and your mother about what you are eating. If it is nutritious or not. What types of places you are going. If you are sleeping enough. Who your friends are. Their names and ages and jobs. You will tell us if you have anyone that is more than a friend.¡± He arched a mischievous eyebrow, and Momo blushed. But then his face turned more serious. ¡°When you went to college, I let you go too much. That is what they tell parents to do¨Cto let their children go. But I don''t think that advice works for every child. I should have held you closer. You are like a balloon¡ªwith your tendency to float away.¡± He squeezed her hand, then smiled at her, his dimples creasing. ¡°Then again,¡± he breathed. ¡°I look at you now and I see the girl from my dreams. You can see it in your face. You smile brighter. You have grown these¡­ wings. So maybe the advice was not so bad. Maybe you floated exactly where you were meant to float.¡± He let go of her hand, and pushed the chair backward. His eyes had glanced toward the door to the porch. He was itching for his morning smoke¡ªhe had delayed it past his schedule, and Momo knew he could only do that for so long, the robot that he was. ¡°But that changes nothing. You must still write me letters.¡± Momo opened her mouth, but then he shut her up with two narrowed eyes. ¡°There is no excuse. Even if you die again, you must still find a way to keep in touch. Do you understand, Momo-yah? Distance cannot be measured in miles.¡± Momo bit her lip, and nodded. ¡°I understand, Appa.¡± 292 – Some Dads Are Worse Than Others Ytra stood at the edge of the vast desert, the wind whipping sand against her skin as she gazed toward the distant silhouette of Kyros''s castle. The structure rose like a forgotten relic, jagged towers piercing the sky. She had always hated this place¡ªthis barren, forsaken land that mirrored Kyros''s disregard for balance. Everything here was the same color of pale desolation. Ytra steadied herself, brushing the sand from her hands, her mind already preparing for the confrontation. She could feel Kyros¡¯s presence, his power thrumming through the desert itself. She had crossed a line, and he was furious. The massive doors to the castle swung open without a word, as if the sand itself had moved them. Ytra hesitated for only a moment before stepping inside. The grand hall greeted her with a cold stillness, Kyros waiting for her at the far end of the room, seated on his throne of cracked stone. He had built himself into the shape of a man, tall and statuesque, a form Ytra knew he used to strike fear into his lessers. But she was not his lesser. And she was not afraid. As time had passed, Ytra had watched as Kyros silently descended upon the gods of the pantheon like a disease, whispering in their ears, pressing daggers to their necks, wooing them with false promises of titles and noble positions¡ªturning each and every god against Morgana until her allies were mere shadows and corpses. But unlike the other gods, Ytra was not corruptible. She had been born of a single, pure purpose. Kyros and Morgana had designed her to be like the cruise control on a jet plane¨Cpossessing no true emotions of her own, her only impulses were to correct, to right, to mend, to fix. She could not be swayed by superfluous things like greed or loyalty. Also, beyond that, she just found him¡­ How to phrase this? Annoying. She found him annoying. ¡°Ytra.¡± ¡°Kyros.¡± "I trust you know why I have summoned you?" "I am not sure," she replied, "Is it to put me in a jail cell again?¡± The guards at his sides drew their swords at the mere sniff of disrespect. She had just arrived, and they were already ready to expel her. Hm. Let them try. She fixed one with a searing look, and the sand he was built from disintegrated in an instant, the sandman¡¯s armor clattering to the floor. Kyros looked at her with unhidden annoyance in his eyes. ¡°No, not this time,¡± he said. ¡°I have no desire to watch over you like some babysitter. But you have broken the rules again. And there will be consequences.¡± She was unmoved by the attempt at intimidation. ¡°I have not broken a rule. There is not a single rule in the Book of Existence that I have violated since I came into existence. It would go against my very nature.¡± Kyros rose from his chair, his skeletal feet booming across the floor. ¡°I am not talking about the rules in that ancient tome,¡± he hissed. ¡°I am bound to no other rules except those in that ancient tome, my lord.¡± Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. Kyros scowled. Like a father greeting a child, he placed a frigid hand on her cheek. But there was no warmth there, no blood circulating under his skin. He was pure bone. "But if I were to guess what your ranting is about," she said after a moment, her eyes sliding to his white fingers, "I would assume this is about Earth." He retracted his hand suddenly and slapped her across the face, blunt pain stinging her cheek. Ytra did not feel emotion, but in that moment, she felt the sudden and animalistic urge to return the motion, to take her own hand and slide it across his face with equal and opposite force. It would only be right, to distribute the pain evenly. But she refrained. He had already stomped too far away, back to his throne. He clamped a hand over it and then craned his head back toward her, snarling. "Of course it''s about Earth! What else would it be about?" The entire fortress shook with his rage. Some of his guards fell over in their stances. "You know I am due to inherit Morgana''s power within the week. Why are you bringing further trouble to my doorstep?¡± he continued, stalking back over toward her. ¡°When the transfer of power is complete, there will be no wrongs you have to right. I will be in full control, and as promised, I will rid the Nether of the demon menace. I will let you initiate as many planets as you want. You can push the system to the whole universe, watch if I care." ¡°You taking sole power will not fix the imbalance in the Nether, Kyros." "And why should it not? This disharmony is caused by the rift between me and that vile woman, dare I not speak her name. When I alone hold the power to the Book of Existence, I can rewrite the rules. And when I rewrite those rules, you and I can decide what is fair." Ytra took a step closer to him, her wings shuttering behind her. Adrenaline flooded through her at the mere suggestion of such a crime. "I cannot let you do that," she said. ¡°The Book of Existence is not to be rewritten.¡± "Let me," he laughed, his shoulders moving up and down. He looked around at his guards as if he was performing his own comedy special. "Do you hear her? She thinks she is in a position to let me do anything! Oh, wow. This is good!" The laughing abruptly stopped. He burst up from the throne, rushing through the air and seizing her by the shoulders. She felt as if the sun itself had grabbed her, molten pain shocking her to the core. But she did not flinch. She would not show subservience. He bellowed loudly, "You are not in charge, Ytra! I do not know how else to impress this upon you. I alone am the god of morality. I alone am the god of what is right and what is wrong. You, by definition, should be a servant to me!¡± At all his anger, she simply shrugged. ¡°And yet I am not.¡± Kyros screamed, and in his rage, a sun beam as large as the desert itself emerged from his chest and barreled straight through Ytra; obliterating the castle, vaporizing the sand dunes, and then going so far as to shatter the very domain he had created, so a large crack in the sky now revealed the glinting blackness of the Nether. When the light faded, Ytra stood there, unharmed. The remnants of the castle stood scattered around them, Kyros¡¯s surviving guards quietly beginning to sweep up the debris. ¡°Are you done?¡± Ytra asked politely, smiling. His jaw clenched. She refused to look away from him. ¡°I don¡¯t know what I was thinking when we created you.¡± Ytra had a quick answer for that. ¡°Probably so that if you ever had a bad day, you¡¯d have me to remind you that it¡¯s important not to destroy the universe and everything you hold dear.¡± He grumbled and then slipped into his throne, which was the only real piece of furniture remaining in the dust. "I will let you continue this system initiation for Earth on one condition.¡± Ytra brightened. Finally, progress. ¡°As long as it is within the laws of the Book of Existence, I am happy to oblige.¡± ¡°Oh, just be quiet. I think I have found a way so both of us are happy. You get to initiate Earth, and in order for the transfer of power to take place next week, I need one specific plan-trampling goddess to¡­ stay put there. Permanently.¡± ¡°Do you mean Miss Momo?¡± He scowled. ¡°Yes, Miss Momo.¡± ¡°And how would you suggest I accomplish that?¡± He shrugged, beckoning one of his guards over to hand him one of his favorite calming instruments¡ªthat little cat bell. Morgana had been the one to give it to him, but Ytra knew better than to remind him of that. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter. Just chain her to Earth, make sure she can¡¯t come back.¡± ¡°Barring gods from returning to the Nether is not allowed.¡± Kyros looked at her with a wide, manic expression. He had a terrifying smile on his face, and he laughed in disbelief. ¡°Oh my¡ªI am going to kill you! Just get it done! However you want! Find a way to make it work with your stupid little rules! Just¡ªdo it!¡± Ytra could feel herself nodding, even though she didn¡¯t particularly want to nod. At the end of the day, Kyros was the leader of the Nether, and in absence of Morgana, she was bound to serve him, at least, within reason. If he made a request, she was required to do her best to accomplish it. Of course, how she accomplished it, or what accomplished really meant, were up to her discretion. She smiled at him, a plan already forming in her mind. ¡°Yes, my lord.¡± 293 – Please Start By Picking A Class Momo could still feel the warmth of her dad''s hand on her own as she ambled down California Street. She pressed her hand close to her heart, not wanting the feeling to fade, as a streetcar rumbled by. Tourists stuck their phones out on selfie sticks, the tracks whined with electricity, and children ran down the sidewalk. It all felt surreal. Even more surreal than when she had first arrived. Because everything was different now. Now she had an actual place here¡ªa home. She wasn''t just a guest from the heavens anymore. She was her father''s daughter again. And that thought made everything else just seem a little more okay. But there was still, of course, the matter of Richard Smith. Momo looked up at the metallic sheen of the skyscraper before her. Her feet had brought her to the front of an otherwise generic-looking office building. Her eyes fixed on the placard just to the left: Building 11. How¡­ specifically unspecific. This bland pillar of glass and steel was, for whatever reason, where Richard Smith had chosen to spend his last day on the mortal plane. Momo couldn''t exactly blame him for dying somewhere so mundane, though. She had passed away with half a cheeseburger still sitting on her shirt, tomato leaking onto the mattress. At least he was probably dying in a penthouse, sipping a shrimp cocktail. She politely entered the lobby of the building, only to be met by the searing gaze of several men in black suits. She didn''t need to speak to them to know this wasn''t exactly a public area. So, instead of going through whatever humiliation ritual she would have surely endured, she backed out of the building, hopped into a nearby alleyway, and transformed herself into a fruit fly. Buzzing into the building, she followed the chain of his soul past the vaguely threatening bodyguards, and up the elevator. She pressed the full heft of her tiny insect body against the button for the top floor, and the gears began to churn. Five¡­ six¡­ Seven. Ding. The elevator doors slid open, and dim fluorescent lights flooded her beady eyes. She fluttered out, taking in the gorgeous scenery of what had to be an elite, members-only bar. The tables were all black. The servers were all women. The walls were all glass. And there was Richard, sitting in the center of the room, across from a woman Momo could only see from the back¡ªlong blonde hair, wearing a black pantsuit. She was clearly younger than him by many years. Ew. Is he one of those kinds of guys? They were the only two in the restaurant. Had he rented out the whole place? Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. Momo knew she was technically a god, but a mortal man with this much money still scared her even more than Morgana did. Momo buzzed over to their table, feeling an overwhelming desire to rest her grubby little hands on the candle sitting between them. It seemed her transformation into a fruit fly had not been purely physical. She was experiencing an attraction to light that verged on suicidal. Not to mention that she wanted to bury herself in the ribeye steak they were eating, but she showed a commendable amount of self-restraint and settled for buzzing just above Richard''s head. Of course, this was an equally foolish idea. "Damn insects. Does this place need a health inspection?" Richard swatted at her, his hand as large as a looming giant as it aimed towards her face. She ducked, her heart pounding, and quickly withdrew to a few feet away on the empty table next to them, where she could still hear their conversation. The girl opposite him cleared her throat. "You were saying, Richard?" "Right. Look, I''m sorry to tell you this, but Rosemary refuses to meet your demands. Even with all the evidence we have against him, he''d rather us release it to the public than actually recant his statements and hand you back the keys to the kingdom. He¡¯s truly a Grade-A douche." Momo tilted her head. Did she hear that right? Did Richard just apologize to her? And wait¡ªthe girl sitting there wasn''t Rosemary? Momo had assumed he''d been talking to an ex-wife on the phone when she had overheard him back at the University Club; assumed the two were discussing some sort of bitter divorce. But maybe she had read the situation wrong. The girl sighed. "It''s okay, Richard. I can''t thank you enough for even trying to fight for me." Richard gritted his teeth. "Don''t thank me. You don''t thank the guy who can''t get shit done for you. It''s just¡­ men like Patrick Rosemary think they¡¯re fucking untouchable. I¡¯ve tried every scare tactic in the book. Even sent a private investigator to dig up grime on his piece of shit son in law. But he doesn¡¯t care. He thinks he¡¯s above it." "Seems like he is," the girl said. "But he isn''t." Richard slammed his hand down on the table. "I believe what you told me. I''ve seen the bank accounts. That was your company, Laura. A company you built from the ground up, with no money. No handouts. Then he comes in, spits on your reputation, kicks you to the curb. He shouldn''t be able to get away with that. The firm¡¯s valued at how many billion at this point? Those billions should be yours. You invented that technology." Laura shook her head. "It''s pointless. I don''t think it''s worth pursuing it any longer, even if it''s true. He''s threatened you too many times." Richard laughed. "As if I care about a little threat from a scared little boy in a suit. I don''t. What is he gonna do?¡± ¡°He¡¯s already threatened to shoot you, Richard.¡± ¡°Ha! And I¡¯d love to see him try. Too bad that would require him to leave his billionaire compound and actually get outside for once.¡± Laura frowned, and shook her head. "You shouldn''t laugh, Richard. I think he''s serious." Richard waved her hand at him. Richard narrowed his eyes. "Do you see that?" "See what?" "This..." He waved his hand in front of him, as if he was trying to swat a ghost. "This weird fucking screen. It''s blue and... It has a bunch of text on it. What the hell?" Momo''s eyes bulged. Did he just get a system notification? ¡°I don¡¯t see anything.¡± ¡°Seriously?¡± Richard said. He looked the most caught off guard that Momo had ever seen him. His usual bravado had been replaced by a furrowed brow. ¡°Did Rosemary actually grow the balls to poison me? Because I think I might be losing it.¡± Laura set down her wine glass. ¡°Wait. Wait. I see it too.¡± At the very same moment, Momo heard a beep in her inner ear. Her own System had registered something. Greetings citizens of Earth. Do not panic. The screen in front of you is not a hologram, or a hallucination, or the product of a drug trip. You are not imagining it, and you are not dying. Well, some of you might be, but if this message really does find you on your deathbed, feel free to exit out. We¡¯ll get to you in the next reincarnation cycle. But for the rest of you¡ª Welcome to the System. Please start by picking a class. 294 – ...and Then The Timeline Took A Right Turn What on Earth? A series of class options descended in front of Momo¡¯s eyes. Wizard. Rogue. Chef. Merchant. Paladin. Knight. Warrior. Blacksmith. Huh? Was the Nether Administration Department having an aneurysm ? This had to be wrong. Earth didn¡¯t have a System. A bright red dot appeared on Richard¡¯s forehead. Momo wouldn¡¯t have even noticed it if it wasn¡¯t for her fly eyes; they were attracted like laser pointers to the shimmering point. Huh. That dot kind of looks like the one you see in the sight of a rifle in an action movie when they''re about to shoot someone in the head. Momo squinted. Wait. Oh. Right. Richard is supposed to die right now. Despite having known this for literally weeks, Momo''s brain hadn''t really computed the fact that she was about to watch a man get murdered. Yeah. Yep. She was about to watch a man get murdered, and she wasn''t allowed to do anything about it. Or¡­ was that even true? Were there actual rules and guidelines dictating if the Grim Reaper could interfere with the whole murder attempt thing? If she recalled, the quest just said she had to shepherd his soul to the afterlife or whatever, but it didn''t say she had to do that today, like, specifically. Just to do it when he died. So could she save him now, wait for him to wither away at the peaceful age of 93, and then deal with it then, right? That sounded plausible. Just as she had convinced herself of it, the window on the north side of the room exploded in a harrowing pulse, glass pieces showering over screaming waitresses. Momo watched in slow motion as a bullet soared across the room. She reached into her mind, trying to transform out of the fly form, but she wasn''t quick enough. She couldn¡¯t think straight. The bullet was nearly there, it was too late¡ª Maybe this was just how fate was supposed to go. She closed her eyes just as the bullet went to strike Richard¡¯s forehead. One long, terrible second past, her heartbeat hammering in her chest. Only she didn''t hear him scream out in anguish, or hear Laura cry for help. Instead, Momo only heard a metal clang, and then Richard shouting, "What the hell is on my face?" Momo''s eyes snapped back open. Richard was alive, and probably relatedly, now dressed in a full suit of armor. Knight armor. In fact, Momo had seen that exact suit of armor on one of Jarva''s henchmen previously. It even had the emblem from the Knights of the Sun. The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. Momo''s eyes traveled to the ground. A bullet, dented, was lying on the floor alongside hundreds of pieces of glass. Her eyes tracked back up. There was a dent in the exact same size of the ammunition in his helmet, right above the bridge of his nose. "Mr. Smith!" One of the waitresses, her face cut up from the glass spray, ran up to Richard in a panic. "We think there''s a rifle up there,¡± she said, trembling. ¡°We''ve called the police, but you have to evacuate right now.¡± Richard glared up at her in-between the slits of his helmet. "A rifle? Are you shitting me?¡± The waitress¡¯s voice wobbled and she shook her head back and forth. ¡°N-no sir. Please, come with me.¡± Across from Richard, Laura''s outfit suddenly changed. Her pantsuit momentarily became blurry, as if the universe was providing a modesty-cover as it altered the makeup of her clothing. A second later, she was outfitted head-to-toe in robes, dark, long, and wizardly. Momo recognized the witch¡¯s hat she was wearing from the original Wizard of Oz. Interesting. Richard''s outfit seemed to borrow precisely from Alois, but Laura¡¯s looked distinctly¡­ earthly in its motif, as if the System was borrowing an equal amount from the planet it had landed on as it was from the actual lore the gods had created for themselves. And that''s when it hit Momo. That¡¯s what this was. The lore department. Something had happened, and they had deemed it time to install the System on Earth. But why now? And what did it mean for her? What did it mean for her family? Her brother? Her parents¡ª Oh god. Those two were barely able to wrap their minds around the invention of the flatscreen television. There was no way they were prepared to pick a class. She needed to get home. Now. But what about Richard? Stupid Richard. Well, not stupid, he turned out to just be grumpy, not evil, and maybe actually a good person¡ªbut she still had to deal with him. Was fate going to just keep returning for him? If the universe was hell-bent on putting him out of existence today, would the shots just keep coming? She didn¡¯t know how this whole free will thing actually worked in practice. None of the onboarding materials mentioned that. Not that she had read any of them. Oops. Well. C''est la vie. Richard had linked his arm with the witchified Laura, and they were now heading for the elevator. No more shots had come yet, but that didn¡¯t mean he was safe. Momo took a look at his Death clock. -1:00 minutes. Great. The clock was now counting backwards. That did not help clear things up. Well, maybe one thing. It was clear now that the whole sudden System Apocalypse thing had indeed been an aberration from the ¡°plan,¡± so to speak; the timeline had taken a sharp right turn, and was now like a run-off truck barreling toward an unknown end. There would be consequences, Momo just didn¡¯t know which, and when. She swapped her screen over to the quest itself. Ok. It was still active. She hadn¡¯t succeeded or failed. And as long as the quest was still active¡­ Momo couldn¡¯t go back to the Nether. At least, she didn¡¯t know how to. Valerica had mentioned that Momo would be whisked back there as soon as the quest was over, but what about the scenario where she was unable to finish it? If the quest was just in this permanent limbo state? The elevator dinged. The bar¡¯s manager, who had been on the phone with what Momo guessed was an emergency operator, approached the stunned pair of them, careful to make sure he was not in sight of the windows. Luckily, the elevator was shielded by a wall. ¡°The police have arrived in the lobby,¡± he informed them. ¡°You¡¯re safe to go down.¡± Richard scoffed loudly. ¡°Are you an idiot? I¡¯m not taking an elevator when someone is trying to kill me.¡± Uncoordinated and clumsy in his knight armor, Richard nonetheless headed for the stairs. Laura looked between him and the bar manager, and then ultimately started trailing after him. Momo made the same call. She had no idea what was going on, and just how bad things had gotten in the Nether that this was even happening¡ªher educated guess: very bad¡ªbut she had a feeling that following the meant-to-be-dead-man might give her a clue. So she lifted off the table with a flutter of wings, and darted toward the stairwell. 295 - Supervillians By the time they had made it downstairs, the building was flooded with policemen. Or, well, former policemen. Most of them were now covered head to toe in armor that wasn''t so different from Richard''s. Steel plate, random insignias from different cultures. None of Morgana''s koi fish or skeletal heads, though. Momo wasn''t embarrassed to say that she was relieved by that. As much as she wouldn¡¯t want to change where she ended up post-college, Valerica was perhaps on the best-case scenario end of what happens when you give people the power and incentive to enslave rotting corpses. Especially people who already have a power kick. "Oh, wonderful," Richard said, already shaking his head when he saw the get-up the men in blue had on. "Is this some sort of practical joke?" "No, sir," the police chief replied, showing his badge. ¡°Peter King. 13th precinct.¡± Momo assumed King was the police chief purely because he had a shiny gold helmet on¡ªa clear differentiating status symbol in a sea of silver and steel. I wonder if the classes everyone got corresponds to the level of social prestige they had before the System got here? Maybe they got to start at a higher rank? That would explain why Richard, a successful career man in his forties, would start as high a rank as a Knight of the Sun. Not that Momo was confident the ranks here actually corresponded to the ones back in Alois. Morgana had always impressed on her that each universe required a slightly different approach when it came to System dynamics. You couldn¡¯t just copy and paste and expect the same results. Then again¡ªMomo had also assumed that all the planets that were going to receive Systems had already, well, received them. Earth had been referred to as the ¡°Other-World¡± for a reason. It was supposed to be different. Different, why, she didn¡¯t know. But clearly, that had changed. And she was very willing to believe it involved Kyros. Man, poor Roger Earth. This was probably a lot more paperwork than usual. The police chief strapped his armored hand over Richard''s shoulder, and said with all the authority he could muster, "Before you ask, we have no idea what''s going on with the sudden appearance of the costumes. But the San Francisco Police Department has declared a state of emergency, and targets of violence such as yourself will be taken to a secure location in the north. A safe compound for extreme situations like these." Richard scoffed, and brushed the man¡¯s hand off his shoulder. "No need. I''m going home. I can¡¯t wait to take this sweaty medieval hunk of metal off." Laura looked at him incredulously. "You can''t just go home, Richard," she said. "You were just shot at. And unless Rosemary''s a complete idiot, you''ll have someone posted up with a sniper right outside your apartment to finish the job.¡± Richard scowled, but he seemed to get the message. "To hell with it. You''re probably right.¡± He turned his chin to the police chief. ¡°Come on, you useless pigs seriously have no idea what all this is about? I already know who tried to shoot me, but I''m much more curious about why everyone''s suddenly caught a case of perma-Halloween." "Wait,¡± the police chief paused. ¡°You know who tried to shoot you?" Richard waved his hand dismissively. "Of course I do. Patrick Rosemary, or more accurately, some ex-military sucker he probably hired off of Craigslist.¡± The police chief cleared his throat, seeming suddenly uncomfortable. ¡°Alleging that one of the most powerful men in San Francisco is the one that just targeted you is a big statement, Mr. Smith. Do you really want to commit that to the official record? Or do you want to think about it a little longer?¡± "Oh, this is just¡­ Are you seriously trying to threaten me? While looking like a washed up renaissance festival attendee?" Richard snapped back. "Just take my statement, and escort Laura to that¡ª containment unit, or whatever. Wherever she¡¯ll be safe.¡± "Not threaten, sir. Just gently reminding you of what you¡¯re about to do.¡± This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. ¡°I can assure you I know exactly what I¡¯m doing.¡± The two of them stared daggers at each other. Momo was eager to see just how this standoff would end¡ªshe was hoping for a very elaborate, very amateur sword fight¡ªbut she never got to find out. Because the top of the building promptly peeled off. Pipes and wires and cement blocks were all dramatically extracted from the ceiling, and debris began to rain down from above. Momo looked up, alerted, and saw a human figure floating in the pale blue sky. Above him, the entire ceiling of the building was now levitating. He seemed to be keeping it there with his own hands. What the hell? It had only been a few minutes¡ªand Earth had already developed supervillains? This was not the time for her to be a fly anymore. Momo jumped back into her real form, legs and arms sprouting from her tiny black speck of a body until she was falling to her knees in the lobby. The policeman clearly didn''t know where to look. At the girl who had just emerged from the body of a fly, or at the man controlling a football field''s worth of cement? They settled on the man. "Everyone out! Go, go, go!" The police chief flapped his hand, gesturing towards the door as the policemen began flooding outside. An alarmed Laura quickly followed. They piled onto the sidewalk as Momo was left in the building. Alone, except for... "You¡¯re that girl from before," Richard said, pointing an accusatory finger. Momo''s eyes widened, feeling embarrassed. Shit. He recognized her. "The one who was stalking me at the university club. Are you working for Rosemary?¡± ¡°Oh, no, no, no, no. You¡¯ve got me confused¡ª¡± Luckily, she was saved by the bell. The bell being... the risk of imminent death for over twenty civilians. The figure far above them raised his arms and, with a shrug, tossed the floating plane of rock onto the street. Momo cast [Focus] and¡­ ¡­Everything slowed down. She could see the muscles tensing in the policemen¡¯s bodies, the panicked way their arms were rising to protect themselves from the sudden death showering from above. It was such a human reflex to cover one''s head, one that Momo used to employ all the time, back when she had felt helpless. But now. She was the only one here fit to protect anyone. She surged above them, urgently flapping her wings so she was floating like an angel over their heads. Then, with a whisk of her hands, she ripped through the air, disassembling the oxygen¡¯s particles back down to the rudimentary Nether from which they emerged. Forming a wall of thick blackness above them, she created a barrier big enough to shield the entire sidewalk. It sounded like impossibly strong hail pelting down on metal when the debris hit the barrier. The cement blocks shrugged over the dome¡¯s surface, landing on the ground just outside where the policemen had been hiding. That actually worked, she thought. She had only been hoping that Earth, too, was made up of Nether. But just like in Alois, all particles seemed to come from the same source, and thanks to her elevated Nether Demon powers, that was a source she could manipulate with near-perfect accuracy. The policemen were stunned. However, it was Richard who was first to speak. (Something that probably shouldn¡¯t have surprised Momo, at this point.) "How did you do that?" he asked, matter-of-factly, as if she was a witness he was cross-examining on the stand. "What¡¯s this dome? What kind of being are you?" "Oh." Momo scratched the back of her neck, flushing. "I''m Momo." He grunted. "Like the convention? The TV show?" "Uh, yes. Pretty much." He clenched his jaw, then nodded. She had not expected such a straightforward reception. But then again, Richard continued to surprise her. "Interesting. Good. So unlike these idiots, you probably know what''s going on here." The policemen, despite being called idiots, seemed to agree with Richard¡¯s sentiment, and looked at her expectantly. Even the police chief, with his shiny golden helmet, couldn''t argue with the obvious power differential that had appeared. There was armor, and then there was a girl who could create an impenetrable dome out of thin air. Another round of shrapnel came thundering at the dome. It was becoming clear that this attacker was not an opportunistic murderer, but a premeditated one. He was going to keep it coming until the dome broke. Fortunately, Momo was a goddess now, so that dome definitely wasn''t going to break under the attack of someone who had just acquired powers for the first time a few minutes ago. As long as she could keep all the vulnerable people organized in one place, she could deal with this. "Look, you guys stay here. I''m going to seal you in, so nothing can get out, but I promise I''ll be back in one second. I''m just going to deal with¡­ him." She was about to turn, but Richard grabbed her wrist. "No one seals me in anywhere. I''m coming with you." Momo grimaced. "That''s a really bad idea," she said. "You can''t fly. Also, your body is, no offense, very susceptible to giant pieces of cement. Mine is less so." He stared at her, considering this statement. Then, after a moment, he released her hand. "Fine, but you better come back and free us, or I will find your parents'' address, and send them very traumatizing images." Momo''s eyes widened. Maybe this guy wasn''t the worst person alive, but he was close. Another barrage hit the dome. Momo took that as her cue to leave. She skidded out from underneath the dome, then moved her hands downward, using her Nether magic to seal the bubble completely. Then, she took off from the pavement. She surprised even herself at the speed she could achieve in her new form. If running as a Nether Dokkaebi had been freeing, moving as a goddess was on an entirely different level. She was ripping the air apart, destabilizing electrons just by moving. A broad smile began to grow on her face the closer she got to the man in the sky. He had no idea what he was dealing with. God¡ªthis was going to be fun. 296 – Nicholas Marks Sailing like a torpedo, Momo approached the man much faster than she planned. She skid to a stop in the air just in front of him, her chest rising and falling raggedly as she looked down at just how far she¡¯d traveled in only a few seconds. And, wow¡ªit was quite the distance. The black dome she¡¯d created looked more like a zit on the face of the street than an unbreakable wall; the scampering people and passing police cars seemed like tiny impersonations of the real thing. It was like looking at life through an airplane¡ªand it immediately reminded her of her near-fight with Valerica, the two of them circling each other in the air as the demons haunted the fields below them. That had been the most terrified Momo had ever been. Now, she just felt¡­ light. ¡°So, a challenger rises to face me?¡± Momo blinked. She had nearly forgotten what had brought her up so far. ¡°Oh. Right. You.¡± The man hovered effortlessly in front her, his arms crossed over his chest as he gave her a slow, arrogant smile. His outfit rippled in the wind like shadows brought to life¡ªdark billowing fabric that seemed to absorb the light around him. His cloak, black as night, flared out behind him, giving him the appearance of a specter with no solid form beneath. As soon as she locked eyes with him, a System prompt appeared in front of her. NAME: NICHOLAS MARKS RANKING: #7/#808,437 (San Francisco Bay Area) Damn. Number seven out of almost a million people? So this wasn¡¯t a fluke. The guy was powerful. And given that the System had only existed here for like fifteen minutes, that definitely confirmed her hypothesis that the System let people cheat their way to the top some way or another. At least temporarily. Momo had stopped receiving Earth¡¯s system notifications after that initial blurb, so she was probably missing a lot of context. Context that she was hoping to extract out of this nice young gentleman. ¡°Nice outfit,¡± Momo complimented him genuinely, completely ignoring his taunting from moments before. ¡°What class gave you that cool cloak?¡± His cocky smirk fell, and he frowned, wagging his finger. ¡°You want me to reveal my class so you can evaluate my weaknesses. Clever, but I won¡¯t fall for such a simple ploy.¡± "Oh. No. Sorry. I don¡¯t care about those," she said. She didn''t really need to know his weaknesses. His weakness was that he was a human being and she was a god. That about summed it up. "I really just want to know about the cape. Oh, and if you could tell me a little bit about whatever messages you¡¯ve been getting, that could help too." He scowled. "Are you trying to taunt me?¡± He flicked his fingertips up and Momo heard a rumbling sound from below. The pavement on the street began to break apart, pipes bursting and water showering the street. Chips of rock soared upwards, melding and mingling together to create large boulders of steel and cement. They floated around his head and he grinned. "Huh," Momo said, tapping her chin. "Some kind of telekinesis power then? Neat.¡± She had never really met anyone with telekinesis on Alois. Nether magic did something similar, but it required deconstructing things back to their base forms before they could be manipulated. He was just throwing things around as they were. Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. Maybe he''s just using powerful air magic to suspend things and break them apart? That would be a much simpler explanation. "Why are you looking at me like that?" he growled. "Are you scared?" "Um," Momo checked her arm, seeing if any of the hairs on it were standing up. "No, I don''t think so," she said genuinely. "My stomach seems fine as well." "Oh, for the love of¡ª Enough! You¡¯re just wasting my time!" He slammed his hand forward and a giant ball of rock spiked towards her. Opting to try something a little bit different, Momo summoned the Nether again, but instead of creating a dome or another type of shield, she lathered her body in it, as if she was wearing a skin suit of just the black protective material. The rock shattered around it, splitting into thousands of pieces. Nicholas balked at her, his mouth hanging. "How did you... are you some sort of defensive mage?" ¡°Well, not technic¡ª¡± Not waiting for a response, he thrust another boulder towards her. It shattered just as quick, not even leaving a scratch on her black suit. ¡°You¡¯re not going to get anywhere with that method,¡± Momo told him honestly. He scowled. ¡°These are massive pieces of cement being thrown at hundreds of miles per hour, how are you building a resistance that can stop that?¡± Momo brightened, smiling. ¡°Well, if you want to know¡ª¡± He hauled the biggest of his creations¡ªa ball of crumbled street lamp, sidewalk, and car parts that was about six times his size¡ªstraight at her, and then promptly screamed when it shattered easily against her protective layer. Momo rubbed her eyes. They were starting to get dust in them. "Um, are we done with this yet?" she asked, yawning. "Because I kind of have things I want to talk about.¡± ¡°Your ranking," he spat, practically growling. "Why can''t I see it? It just has a bunch of question marks next to it. Are you from outside the city? How did you get here so fast?" His eyes widened. "Did you beat the first quest already?" "There we go. Just what I wanted to discuss," Momo said, grinning eagerly. "What quest?" He looked at her suspiciously. "The only quest." "And what would that be?" "You should know." She frowned. "Clearly I don''t.¡± He screamed, his hair erupting into a black flame. Raising his hand suddenly, the air around them became thin and tight. He pushed his hands out from his chest, and Momo felt a strangling sensation around her throat. It kind of¡­ tickled. "So I was right," she said, coughing, "You are an air mage.¡± ¡°How are you still..." He clenched his hands tighter. "Breathing?¡± She coughed again. This actually felt kind of comfy, in a strange way. Like a scarf. ¡°Tell me about the quest," she said. "And I''ll tell you the answer to that question." ¡°Shut up about the goddamn quest!¡± His eyes were almost bulging out of his head. He clamped his hands down together, exerting the maximum force of his air magic. Momo just laughed. "I could do this all day," she said, clearing her throat, "So, do you want to waste your time with me? Or do you want to tell me what I need to know, then go and get more powerful by beating up someone else who you can actually handle?" He faltered, his grip weakening. It appeared she had finally spoken his language. The language of power-hungry douchebags. "Fine," he said finally, relenting. "Everyone on Earth has the same quest, as far as I can tell. It¡¯s called Fight For Dominance. We were all offered classes based on our specific skill sets, and then could rapidly level in the first ten minutes by defeating as many people or as much nether spawn as we could manage. I was able to strangle everyone in the prison that I work at, securing me this spot at the top." Goosebumps ran up Momo¡¯s arms. But it wasn''t fear she was feeling. It was disgust. "Strangled as in¡ªyou killed those people?" she said. "They were just prisoners. Prisoners under your care." He waved her off. "So what? They were just soaking up government funds. Criminals like that are just a waste of breath." Momo clenched her fists. ¡°And you¡¯re not a criminal? You just tried to kill an entire police force.¡± He shrugged. ¡°Self defense. They would have locked me up for what I did at the prison.¡± Momo pinched the bridge of her nose, tempering her rage. She had to be careful not to kill the guy by accident. "You aren''t God," she said. "You don''t get to decide who or what is a waste of breath." "Oh yeah? And you are?" At that, Momo smiled at him. She began to bubble a tremendous amount of Nether out of her palms, creating a large, giant-sized hand. A fist that was big enough to grab him in his entirety. The black Nether hand clamped down on him like he was a shrimp, fingers circling around his body and keeping him in place. He roared, struggling against its superior grip. "No¡ªwait! Don¡¯t!" "Don''t worry. It¡¯ll just be a quick swim," she said. "God''s feeling merciful today." Then, with a giggle, she yanked her arm back, and threw Nicholas at full force towards the Pacific Ocean. 297 – For Family With Nicholas dealt with, Momo figured it was time to fulfill her promise. Time to break Richard out of bubble-jail. She floated back to the ground, watching as everything in the city below, which had seemed so small and miniscule, like a child¡¯s dollhouse, retained its original dimensions. With an intake of breath, she touched her open palm to the black dome she created. But just as she was about to start dismantling its monumental walls, she noticed a flash of black light out of the corner of her eye. Somewhere across the street, past the long stretch of pavement. The zap of light was momentarily blinding, like car headlights, and stranger yet¡ªit was followed by a high-pitched crunching sound, which sounded both mechanical and simultaneously organic. It made the hairs on her arm stand up straight. A hint of a memory blossomed at the back of her brain. Where had she heard that before? Was that a¡­? Her eyes widened. She looked across the street again, more frantic this time. Several people were dashing down the sidewalk, all dressed in different sets of armor¡ªrobes, plate metal, the usual. As her eyes studied each one, their rankings appeared in front of her. One million and twenty two. One million and twenty six. Not a single one of them was even close to possessing a rank like the villain she¡¯d just put down, so they couldn¡¯t be too powerful. And they didn¡¯t seem like they were trying to kill each other either, either, so Momo had no reason to intervene. But she could have sworn she saw... Oh. Shit. Seven stories up, on the roof of the building just across the street. Long claws and a blank, black face. No fingers. No discernable eyes or a nose. It was a Nether Demon. The creature leapt from the roof, and fell with tremendous speed, seemingly unconcerned about injuring its body as it plummeted towards the ground¡ªand towards the unsuspecting group. Type: Nether Demon. Level 37. ¡°Crap,¡± Momo shouted. ¡°Look out!¡± She reached out her hand, and Nether zipped out of her fingertips, passing over the street and forming a semicircular dome over the heads of the unsuspecting group. They looked up, confused, and Momo was about to fly over to them and explain when¡ª She realized her mistake. The demon did not hit the dome. Instead, it shimmered through the defense, materializing instantly on the other side and diving its claws into the armor of one of the stragglers and pinning him to the ground. The surrounding group looked on in horror. One of the men in mage¡¯s robes attempted to free his friend with a slap of his staff, but the demon¡¯s claws were deep in. Luckily, the metal plate the man was wearing was dense enough that the claws didn''t seem to pierce through the skin towards the heart; no, he was still very much alive, screaming and shouting and trying with all of his might to pry the creature off himself with his metal gauntlets. Damn it. She was so high on her own power, Momo had completely forgotten the most basic tool of the trade. You can¡¯t fight fire with fire¡ªor Nether with Nether. She had just been so startled to see one here of all places. But it wasn¡¯t surprising, looking back. Nicholas had mentioned them. That they¡¯d appeared in the quest description. Nether spawn, he''d called them. She had been so focused on everything else that she¡¯d not actually contemplated the fact they were really here. Was this¡­ Was this Kyros¡¯s solution to the Nether¡¯s demon epidemic? To use Earth as an exhaust pipe for all the demon baggage that he and Morgana had accumulated in their power struggle? To just fling their heaping trash to Earth, so that the planet¡¯s new burgeoning heroes and villains could clean it all up? Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. It wasn¡¯t the worst idea, practically speaking. So much so that she actually doubted it belonged to Kyros at all. The man¡¯s shrieking pulled her back into the present. Momo bounded off the pavement and flew across the street, barreling into the demon. She and it were flung into the opposite wall, its claws torn out of the man¡¯s armored chest. The demon scratched at her face, but the cuts healed almost as fast as they were made. This thing was only level 37, but it was still squirmy. ¡°Run!¡± Momo shouted towards the group, who was staring at her in silent alarm. Startled out of their silence, the group nodded. Then, as they began to heave their companion off the pavement, Momo cupped her hands around the creature¡¯s middle; it ravaged its razor sharp nails over the skin of her hands, and it felt like getting stabbed with a hundred tiny needles, but she resisted the urge to let it go. She knew the next strike it made on those people, it wouldn¡¯t miss. And all she had to do was¡ª "[Purify]," Momo said. With a large burst of light, white magic seeped from her fingers, burying into the creature''s chest. Its struggling became less and less frenetic. Its claws, once reaping across her arms, slowed to a dull scratch. Momo closed her eyes. By the time they fluttered open again, a wholly different creature was looking back at her. Something soft. Something curious. It made her heart sink. Had the first demon she met arrived here too? "Hi," Momo greeted it, then smiled slowly. ¡°Welcome to Earth.¡± *** The walls of the dome slowly descended, and Momo watched the pink horizon emerge behind it. A helicopter skidded across the fuchsia sky. Police sirens wailed. Although the particular area of town she was in wasn''t brimming with violence, she could hear it on the perimeters. People screaming. Laughing. Frantically calling taxis. Facetiming their moms to see what class grandma had chosen. The walls rescinded completely into the ground, the Nether devolving back into nothingness. Momo stepped into the circle, and was about to call out to Richard when her eyes widened. Oh shit. The black darkness of the dome had been blocking out the overwhelming sound from inside¡ªa sound that could only be described as a guttural groaning; almost half the policemen were injured, bleeding, or at the very least, unconscious. The Nether Demons. A black wall hadn¡¯t protected them from them¡ªit had entrapped them inside. Luckily, none of the police officers seemed dead from what she could see. They all had their heads. Their soul chains were still attached. But it was utter mayhem. The ground was splotched with black, the remnants of the demons staining the pavement. Richard was breathing heavily, his gauntlets covered with a black goop like he had just strangled a fresh one. Laura was busy standing over the injured, pressing white magic to their chests. Thank goodness she had chosen a class that could heal. Richard caught notice of her almost immediately. Naturally, it was not a grateful homecoming for Momo; he looked at her with pure fury in his eyes. "You! You said," he shouted, stalking up to her, then furiously pushing her back with the fist of his gauntlet, so she stumbled a step. "We would be safe in here!" "I''m so sorry," Momo said in a rush. "I had no idea.¡± ¡°You trapped us!¡± ¡°I promise,¡± she whispered. ¡°I was trying to keep you safe in here. I didn¡¯t know the Nether Demons were here. I really didn¡¯t know.¡± Richard¡¯s jaw clicked, and he closed his eyes, taking a sharp breath in. Momo was grateful he was taking a moment to stop himself from strangling her. ¡°For fuck¡¯s sake¡ª You''re lucky no one''s life is on your head,¡± he grunted, after a long moment. ¡°Three of those¡ªthose demons showed up. And the chief took the brunt of the attack. They clawed him from all sides; over the head, behind the back. Only reason he¡¯s alive is that Laura has some sort of spell that stops wounds from bleeding out. That, and they missed his heart by a few inches.¡± Momo glanced toward the police chief, who was sitting on the floor in their makeshift medical area, his armor in shambles, his golden helmet smashed. There were claw marks on his neck and his legs, hastily bandaged up with gauze. ¡°When the first one came in, we had no idea what to hit it with. I mean, what in the hell are you supposed to throw at devil spawn that¡¯s raining from the ceiling?¡± Richard continued, following Momo¡¯s gaze. ¡°But blunt force seemed to be the only thing that worked. I had to tear the thing''s goddamn head open." Momo winced. She did not like the image. If only she had gotten there earlier. Damn it¡ªscrew being there earlier. if only she could be a hundred places at once. This scene was probably playing out all over town. All over Earth. Her stomach turned, anger rising hot in her lungs. Because¡ª Because¡ª This was so pointless. There was no reason for the demons to fight the humans. There was no reason they had to be demons at all. It was clear as day to her. The demons were nothing but cells that had turned malignant; the Nether¡¯s innocent blood vessels that had been roughhoused and corrupted by the universe¡¯s longest standing argument. But Momo didn¡¯t care about their goddamn argument. That excuse wasn¡¯t good enough for her anymore. This went beyond heavenly trauma¡ªthis was her home. This is where her family lived. Her parents had crossed oceans to find somewhere safe for Momo to grow up. Her brother had worked his tail off to make sure they lived the rest of their lives comfortably. They had all done their part to help each other. All of them except for her. Except for Momo. This was no longer just a plea for Valerica¡¯s attention, or an attempt to get out of her own shell. She was way beyond that now. She¡¯d molted like a baby bird. Crawled out of the abyss and danced on her own ashes. She¡¯d thrown a man into the Pacific Ocean. No¡ªthis was her family. And their backyard wasn¡¯t anyone¡¯s dumpster. Remembering her [Body Double] spell, a plan began to form in the back of Momo¡¯s mind. A plan that reached far beyond what she¡¯d ever accomplished in Alois as queen¡ªin far less time. "I''m really sorry," Momo said, again, her eyes boring imploringly into Richard¡¯s as she put a hand on his shoulder. "But we only have so much time. So I¡¯m going to need you to listen closely.¡± Ch. 298 – Motley Clone Crew As the sun dawned on San Francisco, Momo reflected on the fact that her name had, at some point along her journey, become its own verb. To momo it, as Sumire had summarized for her on one late evening, both of them drunk on some kind of cabbage wine and talking until the sun rose, meant to perform a series of seemingly unrelated actions, in a non-chronological order, in order to achieve an end that to anyone else would seem stupefyingly impossible. To momo it, meant, in short: to just go for it, and hope it would work out in the end. This stupid phrase¡ªthis silly, drunken confession by Sumire¡ªwas something she held close to her heart as the next few moments unfolded. And by next few moments, she meant getting promptly yelled at by a System Administrator after using [Dark Healing] on the policemen. WHAT DID WE TELL YOU ABOUT USING YOUR FORMER SKILLS? YOU KNOW WHAT I don¡¯t even have the energy to talk in caps lock anymore. I¡¯m tired. Just¡ªjust do whatever you want. Kyros will probably eliminate this department in the next few days anyway now that he¡¯s really in charge of things. Not sure where I¡¯ll end up after that. I mean, if you¡¯re already in Hell, what comes after? Bye, Momo. ¡°Jesus,¡± Momo mumbled, before slowly widening her eyes. Did she just say Kyros was¡­ in charge of things? The funeral¡ªthe transfer of power¡ªValerica¡¯s plan¡ª Had it already happened? Had Momo missed her chance? Hopelessness began to dig into her bones. Momo stared at the sky, feeling numb. Had it all ended, and she wasn¡¯t even there to witness the oblivion? Richard snapped his fingers brazenly in front of her face. ¡°Yo. Useless Goddess Lady,¡± he grunted, scowling. ¡°About that plan?¡± Momo turned to Richard, already wincing. No. It didn¡¯t matter what the state of the Nether was, she decided. Here and now¡ªprotecting humanity, for all of its naive inconsequence¡ªthat was still enough. That would always be enough. She took a deep breath in, and steeled herself. ¡°Sorry, I wasn¡¯t¡ª¡± She sighed. ¡°Yes, the plan. Of course.¡± He nodded eagerly, then interjected, "Don''t leave out any details. I hate people who leave out details. I''m going to need a full view of the case. Suspects, alibis, locations, potential weapons. The whole lot. Don¡¯t skimp out on a thing.¡± That drew out a laugh from Momo. He was being completely serious. "This isn''t exactly a case, Mr. Smith¡ª¡± ¡°Everything is a case.¡± Richard leaned in close, so close that Momo could see the bruised, purple-ish skin under his eyes. A prize from his fight with the demons, Momo assumed. But that wasn¡¯t what caught her eye. It was everything else. The man had enough wrinkles and scratches and creases on his face to mark a treasure map; it wasn¡¯t that he looked old, per se, just¡­ exhausted. She clearly wasn¡¯t the only one who was haunted by demons. Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. "If I can''t solve Laura''s,¡± he continued quietly, glaring down at her. ¡°I''ll focus on this one. You never know. Maybe I¡¯ll strike two power-hungry pigeons with one stone." Richard¡¯s eyes slid over to where the woman was standing, still healing one of the policemen. Not from the injuries they¡¯d suffered from the demons, but instead helping him recover from throwing up repeatedly after Momo used [Dark Healing] on him. It was a useful spell¡ªbut it wasn¡¯t exactly a fun one. ¡°If you don¡¯t mind me asking¡ª¡± Momo began, following his gaze. ¡°I do mind,¡± Richard interjected instantly, eyes narrowing as he pushed her lightly on the chest. ¡°If it¡¯s about Laura, it¡¯s off limits. Client confidentiality.¡± Momo sighed. Richard was bright¡ªbut also very stubborn. Like talking to the personification of a brick wall. ¡°You don¡¯t have to worry about all that. I already know about Rosemary. And what happened with the company. How he made off with everything Laura built.¡± He blinked at her, thrown off. ¡°How the hell do you know that?¡± ¡°I¡¯m a god, dude,¡± she said, throwing her hands up. ¡°I hear things.¡± Okay, so, not totally the whole story. But she left it vague on purpose. She didn¡¯t think she¡¯d win many points by telling him that she was eavesdropping on his conversation in the form of a fruit fly. And, on top of that, Momo definitely didn¡¯t want to have to explain to him that he was running on borrowed time. His death clock was still very much clicking forward. For how long¡ªshe had no clue. Richard chuckled darkly. ¡°Alright, goddess. I owe her,¡± Richard said. When Momo opened her mouth to interrogate further, he glared at her. ¡°No. That¡¯s all you¡¯re getting.¡± Momo sighed. A dead man was allowed his secrets. ¡°Fine.¡± *** ¡°So, Kyros is the perp. Earth is the victim. Nether Demons are the murder weapon?¡± Momo sighed. ¡°Well. There are quite a few other perps. And victims. It¡¯s more of an interconnected graph than a flow chart, but, yes, sure. That¡¯s one way of seeing it.¡± Richard and her stood under the shade of a nearby building as they watched the policemen begin to pile into armored vehicles. Laura had agreed to go with them to the shelter up north; it was where her mother and father were. Richard had assured her he¡¯d follow her there as soon as he ¡°finished business.¡± Whatever that meant. He spoke like a character in a film noir. But Momo had not missed the way Richard lingered, like a father, before Laura departed. They hadn¡¯t hugged, but Momo knew from his eyes that he wanted to. There was more there than he was letting on¡ªnot a romance, like Momo once thought. Something deeper. Something beyond lawyer and client. She wondered, not for the first time, why the universe had chosen this man, of all people, to be her first victim as reaper. If it was coincidental, another random roll of the die in this universe of chaos, or if it was actually predestined. If they had something to learn from each other somewhere in this mess. It was funny¡ªshe¡¯d literally met her creator, found out she was a desperate, depressed mess, and still Momo wanted to believe in something as romantic as fate. She couldn¡¯t kick the optimist inside her, even if she tried. ¡°Alright, M. I¡¯m starting to get the picture,¡± Richard said, turning toward her as the vehicles whirred away, sirens blaring. Momo shook her head at the nickname. ¡°So you can¡ªwhat. Turn the demons from bad to good? That¡¯s your plan? How are you supposed to do that at any sort of scale? The whole Earth¡¯s raddled with these things.¡± ¡°I¡ª I think it¡¯s easier if I show you.¡± Momo lifted up from the wall she¡¯d been leaning on, and pressed her fingers to her neck. The mana gem was still embedded there. Kezko had been a mad scientist. And this situation required a level of insanity. Closing her eyes, she whispered Body Double. Over the course of the next few minutes, the amount of Momos doubled, then quadrupled, until she was surrounded on all sides by duplicates. The first of the roster, Momo recognized immediately. ¡°Oh, come on,¡± Mallmart Momo groaned. ¡°Couldn¡¯t you have picked a workday?¡± Her younger twin was outfitted in sweatpants, a hoodie, and fluffy bunny slippers. She had a laptop tucked under her arm, still playing the intro to The Office. ¡°Sorry,¡± Momo said, but she wasn¡¯t. She grinned. ¡°No time like the present.¡± ¡°Oh, shut up. This isn¡¯t even my present.¡± The rest of the group was far more agreeable¡ªi.e. silent¡ªthan her delinquent teenage self, but they were also completely foreign entities to Momo. Sure, they shared her wide brown eyes, and her penchant for whimpering excessively after time travel, but everything else was different. The second Momo had red prickly skin, like a goblin; the third was human, but dressed in a scientist¡¯s coat, holding three beakers in a tray and chewing on a pen, looking more sleep deprived than a mother of seven; and the final one was, oh, actually¡ª ¡°You¡¯re Momo,¡± Momo laughed, feeling insane. ¡°Like¡ªfrom the movie.¡± Dressed in a skin-tight, cleavage-first white dress was a replica of the Momo she¡¯d seen in Daehyun¡¯s acting debut. She had naturally white hair, long and luscious, and seemed almost ethereal. Not to mention that her face was completely poreless. She wasn¡¯t a poor imitation. She¡¯d jumped straight out of the movie screen. So, here was her motley crew: her younger self. Herself but¡­ red. Herself as a¡­ scientist? And herself as a goddess on a television show inspired by a fake rendition of her backstory as rendered by Roger Earth. Great. Wonderful. It wasn¡¯t exactly the hero squad she¡¯d been hoping for. But interdimensional beggars couldn¡¯t be choosers. Richard, to his part, didn¡¯t look fazed. If anything, he looked like he was adding Momo to the possible ¡®suspects¡¯ column. She couldn¡¯t exactly blame him. ¡°Hi, everyone,¡± she said, taking a deep breath. Here goes nothing. ¡°Sorry to disrupt your weekend. But, if it¡¯s any consolation, the whole universe is at stake?¡± Mallmart Momo turned to the rest of them, and rolled her eyes. ¡°She always says that.¡± 299 – Class Selection (Part 2) ¡°She always says that.¡± ¡°I do not,¡± Momo refuted with annoyance in her voice. Her former mentee was very quickly becoming her biggest adversary. ¡°Also¡ªnot helpful.¡± Younger Momo crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow provocatively. ¡°Then tell me how to be helpful, Big M,¡± she said mockingly. Momo glared at her. ¡°Passing my self confidence on to you was a huge mistake,¡± she muttered. Younger Momo grinned. But the mouthy clone had a point. With Momo¡¯s team assembled, there was only one thing left to do: dig into the heart of the plan. As quickly and painlessly as possible, to minimize the amount of deaths on Earth, and take the fight where it needed to be. To Kyros. But these kinds of things take time. No team is born overnight. As the gears in Momo¡¯s mind turned, the clones¡ªand Richard¡ªbegan to talk amongst themselves. She was drawn out of her thoughts as Goblin Momo¡¯s voice got louder, and the red-painted woman began debating fiercely with Young Momo. ¡°Kava vaka ova vaka kava kava!¡± ¡°Girl, seriously? You just let him do that to you?¡± ¡°Kav, kava kava.¡± ¡°That¡¯s unbelievable. You really need to break up with him. Like, stat.¡± Momo groaned, staring at Young Momo and Goblin Momo as they conversed animatedly. Well, conversed wasn¡¯t actually the best word. ¡°Momo,¡± Momo said, and god¡ªthey were going to have to get nicknames soon. ¡°Stop pretending you know what she¡¯s talking about when you can¡¯t understand a word out of her mouth. It¡¯s rude, and culturally insensitive.¡± Goddess Momo scoffed. ¡°I¡¯m being rude? I haven¡¯t even said anything.¡± Momo slapped her hand over her forehead. ¡°Sorry. I wasn¡¯t talking to you.¡± ¡°Oh, ok.¡± Actually, Momo decided, the time for nicknames was now. ¡°Alright,¡± she said, clapping her hands together and drawing the group¡¯s full attention. ¡°First step. Before we get into the details, we¡¯re going to decide on a naming scheme, so we know what to call each other. Young Momo, what do you want to be called?¡± Young Momo hopped from foot to foot, excited. She responded way too eagerly with, ¡°Ooh, can I choose a spy name? Like they do in the movies?¡± ¡°Sure. Go for it,¡± Momo sighed. A loud rattling noise rang out in the distance. Momo saw smog lift up from a nearby building. Wonderful. ¡°Come on, we don¡¯t have all day.¡± ¡°Okay. Fine. Hurry the creative process,¡± Mallmart Momo muttered. She narrowed her eyes in focus, then said, definitely, ¡°I¡¯ll be¡­ Bald Eagle.¡± Momo blinked at her, almost stunned by the stupidity of what she just heard. ¡°We¡¯ll come back to you,¡± she said, unwilling to hear her out. She turned to Goblin Momo, who was currently chewing on an exposed red wire she¡¯d found on the ground; her eyes flashed around like an alarmed animal. Momo gently got her attention by snapping her fingers. The goblin stopped chewing on the wire momentarily, quirking her head in Momo¡¯s direction. ¡°How about you?¡± Momo said. ¡°Have a name in mind?¡± The goblin made a low grumble sound that seemed to echo from its stomach. The creature¡ªor, wait, person? Was creature dehumanizing?¡ªseemed to communicate primarily through a clicking mechanism located deep in its belly, and supplemented by a pretty rudimentary tongue that just involved the sounds ka and va. Momo twisted her lips, frustrated. I¡¯m a literal god now. How am I not able to just understand every language? This seems ridiculous. There must be a way. ¡°Kava kava,¡± the goblin said, then continued chewing. Momo nodded. ¡°Beautiful. Simple. Pronounceable,¡± she said, then turned to the younger clone. ¡°Follow Kava¡¯s lead, alright?¡± The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. Bald Eagle, pending a better name, grumbled to herself. Momo turned to the scientist clone, who had remained silent up until now. She had been playing with the fraying edges of her lab coat, her fingers trembling, chewing anxiously on her ballpoint, and looking around occasionally like she was weighing the idea of bolting towards the nearest airport. Momo couldn¡¯t blame her. It was probably exactly how she looked when Valerica dragged Momo into her world. But when Momo¡¯s eyes landed on her, she immediately went rigid like a startled cat. She blinked several times in terror, her eye and lip twitching in unison. Momo wondered how much sleep this woman had gotten in the last month. ¡°You can¡ª can call me Marie, if you¡¯d like,¡± she said nervously. ¡°Like Marie Curie.¡± ¡°Like the chemist?¡± Bald Eagle asked eagerly. ¡°God damn it,¡± Momo agonized. ¡°Why am I referring to you as Bald Eagle in my head?¡± Bald Eag¡ªMallmart Momo giggled. ¡°Because it¡¯s a great spy name. That¡¯s why.¡± ¡°Can I go now?¡± Goddess Momo asked. ¡°Also, you don¡¯t need a codename for me. My name isn¡¯t even Momo. It¡¯s Ariana. I¡¯m just playing the part in the television show.¡± Momo didn¡¯t have the words to describe how confused she was becoming. But what was incredibly clear was that this actress/goddess version of herself¡ªif it was even herself¡ªdid not want to be there. She also had a bit of an attitude problem. Not great qualities in a potential Earth-protection force teammate. ¡°You know what, sure. You can go,¡± Momo said, biting down on her lip. The actress looked visibly relieved. ¡°I think I have one more charge left in this spell.¡± ¡°Thank god. Bye weirdos,¡± Ariana said. With a snap of her fingers, Momo took Ariana out of existence. Then, with a sigh, she pressed her fingers to her mana gem again. She tried to hold an image in her mind of her ideal teammate¡ªsomeone strong; someone capable; someone not annoying. ¡°Not sure what your codename is supposed to be,¡± Richard interjected, punching Momo on the shoulder. His voice sounded a bit strained. ¡°But I think we¡¯ve got a problem, Boss. Might have to delay that summoning more versions of yourself thing.¡± The pavement shook suddenly underfoot, as if a giant had stamped its foot down onto the streets of San Francisco. Momo¡¯s eyes snapped open, and she grabbed the younger Momo¡¯s arm to hold her balance. The pair of them looked up, toward the Golden Gate Bridge, to find exactly that. A giant. Only it wasn¡¯t the kind of mythical creature from the fairytales. It was a teenager. A huge, three-story building tall teenager. And he was currently gripping the top of the Golden Gate Bridge like it was a toy in a playset. Nether Demons circled his head like a cloud of malignant flies, hissing and snapping, and he was using the bridge¡¯s iron beams as makeshift clubs to swat them away, sending sparks and twisted metal flying with each swing. And sending every car and pedestrian flying into the ocean. NAME: AIDEN MAHONEY RANKING: #4/#808,437 (San Francisco Bay Area) ¡°Oh, for the love of¡ª¡± Momo sighed. ¡°Ok, you know what. Glass half full mindset.¡± She grabbed younger Momo¡¯s wrist, and started dragging her forward, toward the bridge. ¡°You wanted a lesson plan? Okay,¡± she said, feeling a bit insane. She should never, ever become a mother. ¡°Let¡¯s start with some real field work.¡± *** A bed of Nether swirled beneath the Golden Gate Bridge, stretching out like a dark sea of sticky webs for miles. Trapped within its black strands were both cars and people¡ªall caught as if glued mid-flight. They couldn¡¯t leave, but more crucially, they couldn¡¯t drown. They were just suspended there. Above the muck of captured civilians, the bridge hung in two broken sections. One side remained intact, with cars parked in tense silence as a god, or maybe an angel, or perhaps just a girl with stark white hair, held her own against a colossal, webbed-up giant pinned to the other side of the bridge. The giant squirmed in his sticky prison like an entrapped moth, held fast in her webbing. ¡°God. She¡¯s amazing,¡± Marie whispered, leaning in toward Mallmart Momo as they watched their leader flit around the sky. ¡°I can¡¯t believe I¡ªwe? Us? Are capable of that.¡± Mallmart Momo couldn¡¯t disagree. She got goosebumps just seeing the way Momo handled herself. The way she flew through the air like a bird; saved hundreds of people without even having to really think about it. God, not to mention she could produce enough magic in a few seconds to web an entire city in black goo. It was inspiring¡ªand it was also kind of enraging. Seeing all Momo was capable of and knowing that at the end of the day, she, herself, was just an insignificant clone in the grand scheme of things. One of the least impressive variations by a mile. Even Ariana had been an actress. Marie was a scientist. What was she? A minimum wage employee. A minimum wage employee with a smoking habit. She curled her hands into fists, and shrugged. ¡°I guess she¡¯s alright.¡± ¡°Just alright? You¡¯re not very fair with her.¡± ¡°Fair with her? She¡¯s the one who dragged us into all of this dangerous mess and still hasn¡¯t explained a thing. I mean, she literally placed us on a floating piece of steel with a bunch of monsters and said¡ªI¡¯ll be right back. Stay safe. Have fun.¡± Mallmart Momo turned around and gestured to their surroundings. The two of them, plus the goblin, stood at the edge of the broken bridge, surrounded on all sides by dozens of subdued Nether Demons¡ªblack, writhing figures without faces or mouths. Momo had tied them up so they couldn¡¯t move, but that didn¡¯t mean they were any less terrifying. The kind of sounds emitting from their mouths were not human. ¡°Well, she did give us one instruction,¡± Marie said, then frowned, remembering what it was. ¡°Purify them. With an accompanying hand gesture.¡± Marie expanded her palm forward, then crinkled her fingers, mouthing kapow. ¡°But none of us can do magic,¡± Mallmart groaned. ¡°So her plan is useless.¡± The strange man in the suit of armor who had been trailing Momo finally cleared his throat, breaking his five-minute stare-down with one of the Nether Demons. Apparently bored of that game, he now loomed over Mallmart Momo, fixing her with a gaze so piercing it sent a chill straight to her bones. His expression held an unsettling intensity, as though he were sizing her up with every flicker of his steely eyes. ¡°Are you sure about that?¡± Out of the corner of her eye, Mallmart Momo noticed Marie make a strange, squeaking noise. The scientist flailed her hand in front of her, as if attempting to swipe something away from an invisible screen. A moment later, her entire body began to blur, and her clothes shifted, replaced by long, flowing robes that billowed around her like those of a magician. Mallmart craned her head in confusion. ¡°What the hell¡ª¡± Then a blue screen fell over her eyes. Welcome to the System. Please start by picking a class. 300 – Life Before Sixteen The giant roared. The bridge swayed. Hundreds of people¡¯s lives hung in the balance. But all Mallmart Momo could focus on was that screen. ¡°Pick a class?¡± she repeated to herself, quietly, disbelievingly. Her stomach churned. Her ears started ringing again, like a second grader playing a recorder with all the wind in his tiny chest. Because, because¡ª Is this when she finally became special? *** Up until age sixteen, every day of Mallmart Momo¡¯s life had looked pretty much identical. Wait¡ªno. Let¡¯s start over. There¡¯s only one main character today. Up until age sixteen, every day of Momo¡¯s life had looked pretty much identical. Every day, she¡¯d rumble over to Mission High School, her third school in as many years, and illegally wedge her clunky Yaris into one of the teacher¡¯s parking spots. (She couldn¡¯t afford one of the normal ones, and the widely-feared Mrs. Lawson had been on mental health leave for two years. No one in the school administration had the guts to check why she¡¯d still be parking there at seven A.M. everyday.) She¡¯d squeeze out of the car, hoodie tied up as she snuck through the hallways, and shuffle to the back of the classroom, sleeping until the intercom jarred her awake. The highly sympathetic English teacher would give her that look, Momo would refuse her hundredth extended olive branch, and then slip away to the empty, humid art room for lunch, spring open her tupperware full of bulgogi, and perch alone by the window and watch the other kids eat in the lawn. Then, because she needed an extra job to help her parents pay the increasingly high rent bills, she¡¯d skip her last class to make it to Mallmart on time, shout along to Linkin Park in the car and run two consecutive red lights without noticing, before slowing down at the curb when she inevitably spotted Lucy West on her way to her shift at the thrift store. Momo¡¯s heart would beat like a frenzied horse looking at that girl, an upperclassman by one year, french-braided hair and Metallica t-shirt, way cooler than Momo would ever be, and Momo would tell herself she¡¯d introduce herself someday. She never would. If it all sounded like the opening to a movie about a depressed teenager on a rocky downhill slope to an unhappy death in upstate New York, that was purely coincidental. Momo liked her life. She preferred it this way. Things were good. She was left alone. No one bothered her. She enjoyed the solitude. And sure, she couldn¡¯t sleep without a sitcom playing in the background. Sure, she didn¡¯t really have any other contacts on her phone besides her brother and Nancy from work. Sure, she still couldn¡¯t really have a conversation with her parents that went beyond the weather or gossip about someone¡¯s kid from church. These were all normal, average, regular teenage experiences. They sucked, but they ended when she moved out. They will end when she moves out. Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. ¡ªAre all thoughts she used to tell herself. But after Momo met her, she didn¡¯t get the luxury of that anymore. Momo could remember the vivid details of the encounter like it had happened that very morning. She could tell you the way the grass in the Nether felt on her skin. How everything changed in the span of one second. How one moment she was apathetically arranging maternity wear, weighing which fast food place she¡¯d throw money at after work, and the next, she was a trembling mess in an old medieval fortress, confused and scared, while a clone of herself with wings and horns and a big, soft smile told her that everything she thought she knew was a lie. ¡°Take this bracelet,¡± the other Momo had said. ¡°Something to remember this moment by.¡± So she¡¯d taken the bracelet. And she¡¯d sat in that cold, scary fortress until she found her. The witch with the breath like car exhaust. Sera was just like the other Momo had warned her. A real nasty customer. But once Sera had figured out that the other Momo had fled, she had changed tone. She squatted in front of Momo, her bright blue eyes narrow as she looked at her as if she was just a speck of dust. ¡°It¡¯s an aberration,¡± the bald woman had said, like it was a diagnosis. She wasn¡¯t talking to her anymore; it was a comment toward her companion. ¡°Not the real thing.¡± Not the real thing. Not¡­ the real thing. *** As one does when they have a sudden need to suppress their emotions, Momo picked up smoking. Then she accidentally crashed her car. Real-Momo told her she found it floating around in the Nether somewhere. Figures. *** The screen flickered in front of Mallmart Momo. Swallowing down the emotion in her chest, she pressed down on it with her hand. She was surprised by just how real it felt, the haptic buzz that carried over her finger and fizzled through her arm pleasantly. This was it. This was her moment. ¡°An aberration,¡± she said to herself. ¡°I¡¯ll show you an aberration.¡± The screen offered her four choices. Wizard, Rogue, Warrior, and something called¡­ the Maverick? She clicked the last one. The text of it was colored a slightly different shade of yellow. Maverick (Soul Class): Maverick walks a path only they can see, trusting that with each step, they''ll carve something extraordinary out of the chaos. Forge your own path as a daring risk-taker, unbound by conventional rules. The Maverick thrives on adaptability, quick reflexes, and a bit of luck. With the ability to unleash risky strikes that increase critical hit chances and evade attacks with agile sidesteps, the Maverick seizes any opening to turn the tide. This class comes with an instinct for improvisation, allowing the use of found items as weapons or tools in a pinch. Her eyes raked over the text once, then several more times, drinking it in. She hovered her finger over Soul Class, and another box overlaid the class selection. Soul Classes are classes that reflect the true nature of one¡¯s soul. They are only available to those at the beginning of a System Takeover on any given planet. Momo blinked, feeling a rush of warmth spread through her chest. A daring risk-taker, unbound by conventional rules? That was really¡­ the true nature of her soul? It felt silly even considering it. She¡¯d been described as ¡°unfocused¡± and ¡°disruptively sleepy¡± by teachers before¡ªbut maybe this was just the same thing, inverted. The other side of the coin. She decidedly ignored the other class options, and selected the Maverick. Maverick Class Acquired New Quest Acquired [Fight For Dominance] The Lord of All Lords, Kyros, seeks a champion. Someone with incredible strength who can defeat the competition. To prove your worth, you must defeat as many Nether spawn as possible within a 2-week period. While eliminating other humans will not affect your score, it will not earn you points toward your path as Kyros¡¯s champion. The human who demonstrates the greatest potential will be summoned to his palace in the sky. Your current ranking: #7.2billion Mallmart Momo stared at the text for a long time as the cold breeze flooded past her. Something was building inside her¡ªa chemical reaction. A slow, decisive smile crept up her face. The heavens needed a champion? She glanced up at Real-Momo in the sky, frowned, then looked back at the screen. Okay then. They were going to get one. 301 – Giant Problems ¡°Listen, I totally get what you¡¯re going through. Not like, physically. I¡¯ve never grown hundreds of feet in a few minutes. But mentally. Magic is like puberty.¡± The giant nodded¡ªa nod which shook the entire steel structure he was attached to, but a nod nonetheless¡ªand Momo¡¯s shoulders sagged in relief. When she woke up this morning, she hadn¡¯t registered giving ¡°the talk¡± to a 42-foot tall teenager as something to add to her daily goddess bingo card, especially when ¡°the talk¡± was not about birds and bees, but about how to navigate life when humans now looked about the same size as insects, and your legs were the length of buildngs, but here she was. Surprisingly, she wasn¡¯t mad about it. Well, she was at first, when she initially spotted the guy terrorizing the Golden Gate¡ªit totally ruined the team mojo she was generating with the clone clique¡ªbut it always felt good when she could solve something without violence. Okay, well¡ªshe glanced down at the ruin below her¡ªwith minimal violence. She had been forced to tie him with Nether to the steel beams of the Golden Gate¡¯s skeleton, but it was almost like swaddling a naughty toddler. Once he was finished nodding, which was a seismic event in itself, the teenager frowned. ¡°I really didn¡¯t mean any harm. It was just that those flies were all up in my face, and¡ª I just don¡¯t know where to go where I won¡¯t step on anyone.¡± Momo sighed. A fair concern. All things considered, San Francisco wasn¡¯t really the ideal stomping grounds for a man of forty-two feet. ¡°Let¡¯s see,¡± Momo said, tapping her chin doctorly. ¡°This is America, so I¡¯m sure you can find a few empty parking lots to test your limbs out in. Or, if you¡¯re lucky, a big field. Just watch out for cows, and farmers.¡± When he nodded again, she began to slowly undo his bindings. ¡°There¡¯s also apparently a big government fortification north of here where people who aren¡¯t interested in mass-murder are hanging out,¡± she said, her hands moving in a flurry of black mana. ¡°Maybe once you have a better handle on your legs, that would be a good place to go. If they give you any heat, just tell them that Momo sent you.¡± That seemed to placate him, so after a few minutes of careful Nether deconstruction, the teenager lowered one foot onto the bridge, then another, the steel bearings squealing as his full weight fell onto the pavement. It was a lucky thing that the bridge had been separated in two parts beforehand, because Momo was fairly confident his landing would have slingshotted Mallmart Momo and all the other clones halfway into the cosmos. Thinking of the younger clone, Momo¡¯s eyes glanced downward to see how they were faring. She was a bit disappointed to see that not much had changed in her absence. The Nether Demons that she¡¯d tied up as test dummies remained untouched and unpurified. What was new, however, was their clothes. Marie had found herself some wizardly robes not unlike Laura¡¯s from earlier, the goblin was now dressed in a black cloak and nursing two glinting daggers, and Mallmart looked like she had been spit straight out Nam¡¯Dal. Sorry, Mole City. The young clone was wearing tastefully ripped leather from the neck down, with Thieves Guild patches woven into the fabric. Her fists were wrapped in white cloth, and she was currently busying herself by shadowboxing with the air, marveling at the speed her hands flew. Momo grinned. They must have gotten their classes. This was reason to celebrate. The first part of her roughly eight-step plan was very much relying on the fact that the System would offer her clones classes once they arrived. She had been betting on the fact that the System wouldn¡¯t care to distinguish between actual citizens of Earth and inter-dimensional tourists. After all, even she had gotten the initial intro spiel it gave to everyone. It was only after it realized that she already had a class of her own that it stopped populating her interface with messages. So if it had any filter at all, it was only on people (and gods) who had come here with previous System baggage. The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. She curled her wings in and began to plummet back down to the other side of the bridge, sweeping up once in the air before deftly landing in front of Richard Smith, who gave her only a withering look as the air she carried in buffeted him in the face. ¡°Your scheme seems to be going mediocrely,¡± he grunted, threading his fingers back through his hair to massage it back into place. ¡°They all have their powers now. But none of them have figured out how to¡ª¡± ¡°Purify!¡± Marie shouted, or rather, squealed. Both Momo and Richard snapped their gazes to her in surprise, finding the most demure of the clones with her eyes closed tightly and her trembling hands raised in front of one of the captured demons. Light blue magic was sputtering in her palms, but not going anywhere fast. After a moment, Marie peeled her eyes open again, and looked at Momo with deep set concern. ¡°Did it work?¡± she squeaked. ¡°Er¡ªno, but good effort!¡± Momo said, giving her a thumbs up. This was starting to get a little depressing. Time for Part Two. Momo gathered the clones and Richard in a huddle in the middle of the bridge. Marie came eagerly, Mallmart reluctantly, and the goblin, Kava, wandered over eventually, once she got bored of chewing on the handle of her new dagger. ¡°So,¡± Momo said, clapping her hands together. Doing the gesture¡ªand receiving the immediate attention of her crew¡ªmade her spine tickle with a bit of satisfaction. ¡°First off, I need to confess that I led you guys a bit in the wrong direction before. If this version of the System works anything like it does on Alois, you shouldn¡¯t be able to just use skills, like Purify, that you don¡¯t know yet. So you shouldn¡¯t take it personally that you weren¡¯t able to use soul-whiteout on any of these demons. I just wanted you to try, in case it served to trigger you getting your classes.¡± Marie raised her hand, cutting off Momo¡¯s lecture. When her clone didn¡¯t immediately start speaking, Momo nodded at her encouragingly. ¡°I think I got my class, but I¡¯m not sure if I chose correctly,¡± she said, her cheeks reddening. This version of herself definitely wasn''t used to talking to other people, if the lab coat had been any indication. ¡°I just chose the one that said Soul Class next to it. It seemed most rational.¡± Mallmart Momo eyed Marie with what looked like a hint of jealousy. When she spoke, her tone was petulant. ¡°Wait, you got Maverick too?¡± ¡°Maverick? No.¡± Marie frowned. ¡°My Soul Class was called the¡­ err¡­ Chaos Scholar. The chaos part turned me off a bit initially, but the actual description was quite nice. Something about taking unconventional routes to achieve unfounded success in one''s field.¡± Soul classes? Momo had never heard of anything like that before. ¡°But we¡¯re the same person,¡± Mallmart Momo said, her arms crossing in front of her chest protectively. ¡°How could we have two different Soul Classes? Don¡¯t we have the same soul? Aren¡¯t we all just slightly worse photocopies of her?¡± Mallmart hooked an accusatory thumb at Momo, who looked back at her with wide eyes, startled by the thought. Is that seriously what she assumed? ¡°No, no. Not at all,¡± Momo said, lowering her voice so the others would understand the gravity in which she meant it. ¡°We all have different souls. I can see them, actually.¡± Younger Momo¡¯s face went from belligerent to unreadable. ¡°You can see them?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± Momo restated, and opened her Nether Demon eye. Slowly, slivers of blue began to reveal themselves to her, chains that latched around the hearts of everyone nearby and floated aimlessly upward. She took a gentle step forward toward her younger self, as if approaching a startled animal on the road, and wrapped her hand around Mallmart¡¯s soul chain. The younger girl looked at her with an alarming amount of fear in her eyes as Momo pulled the chain gently upward. ¡°Ah¡ª ouch,¡± the younger Momo mumbled, her hands lifting to her chest. She tried and failed to grab onto whatever Momo was holding, but her hands just fazed through Momo¡¯s own. ¡°Your soul,¡± Momo said, tugging lightly again. ¡°I¡¯m holding it right now. And I promise you, it¡¯s not connected to mine in any way. " She smiled softly. "It stands on its own.¡± The younger clone blinked slowly at her. Something vulnerable and soft passed over her eyes, but just as quickly as it came, it left. What remained was hardened like a nutshell. ¡°Well, don¡¯t yank it out,¡± the younger clone grumbled. ¡°You¡¯ve made your point.¡± Momo shook her head, thinking oh, kids, and let it go. As soon as she did, all the soul chains around her vanished from sight. She had learned to control that skill well. ¡°Now,¡± Momo said, turning to gesture at all the groaning demons. ¡°Shall we? Mallmo, you¡¯re up first.¡± All that unshakeable confidence seemed to vanish in a split second. The girl¡¯s face dropped, and her voice shook with a cross between annoyance and panic. ¡°Go first? Go first at what?¡± A devious smile painted Momo¡¯s face. This is going to be fun. ¡°Well, what else?¡± Momo said, raising her fists in a battle-ready stance. Younger Momo gawked at her. ¡°You¡¯ve got powers now. Try them on me.¡± 302 – Momo vs. Momo vs. Momo vs… ¡°Try them¡­¡± Mallmart stuttered. ¡°On you?¡± The ludicrous expression on the younger clone¡¯s face tore a laugh out of Momo. Was this seriously how she looked when she was surprised? She really needed to work on her poker face if so. Or her whole poker body. Everything inch of her down to her feet was a dead give away. She could see Mallmart¡¯s toes wiggling with anxiety inside her sneakers. ¡°Yep. On me. It¡¯s not like you can kill me, anyway,¡± Momo said, trying to assuage the clone¡¯s anxiety. ¡°And given the power differential between us, I don¡¯t think any damage you can inflict will hurt more than an ant bite. So don¡¯t worry about holding back.¡± Mallmart scoffed, her disbelief quickly replaced with her usual front of annoyance. She stretched her arms and cracked her knuckles. ¡°An ant bite, huh?¡± Momo didn¡¯t remember ever being this stubborn at her age¡ªso opposed to the idea that someone could be stronger than her. At sixteen, Momo had assumed everyone was stronger than her. Mentally, physically. All of the above. It was practically her main worldview. Mallmart seemed allergic to the very suggestion of a hierarchy. Momo sniffled. I¡¯m so proud of her. While Momo was preoccupied with a fit of almost parental emotion, Mallmart skidded towards her, taking her by surprise. Her right fist flew up to Momo¡¯s chest with an impressive fluidity; her strike wasn¡¯t coordinated, but it did have a ferocious speed to it. It was impressive, especially for a kid who had only earned her system five minutes ago. But to Momo, the clone¡¯s impossibly fast punch looked like a slow motion film. Choppy frames of clay descending with the speed of a snail towards her collarbone. She took her sweet time in lifting her own hand to catch the punch, firmly capturing Mallmart¡¯s fist in her own and sending a ricochet of power through Mallmart¡¯s body. The clone balked, finding all the wind taken out of her punch. ¡°How did you¡ª¡± she sputtered. ¡°You¡¯re quick,¡± Momo said, then laughed lightly. ¡°But you¡¯re a bit too obvious.¡± Momo twisted Mallmart¡¯s fist, causing the clone¡¯s entire body to flip in the air. But¡ªlike Momo knew she would¡ªMallmart caught herself like a cat on all fours when she landed on the pavement, not a scratch on her. She glared up at Momo in grave offense nonetheless. ¡°What was that for?¡± she seethed. ¡°I saw a teachable moment,¡± Momo said with a shrug. When Mallmart¡¯s expression just darkened further, Momo smiled innocently. ¡°So, did you learn the lesson?¡± ¡°What lesson? That I should have punched you harder?¡± Momo rolled her eyes. ¡°No. That defense is much more important than offense.¡± ¡°Oh. Of course. Thank you, Mr. Miyagi.¡± ¡°Do you want to learn to master your skill set quickly or not?¡± Mallmart quieted. With the words hanging in the air, Momo began to circle the downed clone like a hawk, pacing slowly around her as Mallmart reluctantly got back on her feet, wiping the dust off her pants with a grunt. It went a bit beyond Momo¡¯s natural instincts, this abrasive style of teaching¡ªbut, speaking of lessons, she had learned one invaluable one from Valerica. ¡°I know you¡¯re capable of hitting me,¡± Momo said. ¡°You just have to figure out how.¡± Tell people their potential, then wait for them to find it. Momo smiled when she saw a glint of determination shine in Mallmart¡¯s eyes. The clone rolled up her sleeves and stalked towards Momo, rolling her shoulders. ¡°So, you¡¯re saying,¡±¡ªMallmart swung again. This time, she did it mid-sentence. It was a good distraction technique, Momo would give her that¡ª¡°You have a weakness?¡± Momo ducked, Mallmart¡¯s fist going high. The clone tripped over her feet, stumbling a few steps before catching herself. But she didn¡¯t sit with her failure for long. She whipped around almost instantly, a fist following the rest of her body¡¯s motion. The attack slung for Momo¡¯s gut, and this time it actually came close to hitting its mark. Emphasis on close. Momo grinned wolfishly. ¡°There you go,¡± she said, side-stepping the attack with ease. ¡°You¡¯re starting to get it.¡± Mallmart stumbled forward, Momo¡¯s body rippling to the side like a mirage. This time the clone caught herself with more aggravation. She had clearly expected that one to connect. ¡°Getting what?¡± Mallmart snarled. ¡°The element of surprise, darling.¡± Momo couldn¡¯t help but laugh at herself once that word slipped out. If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. She was getting a bit too into the method acting of it all. But hey, you either die the Momo, or live long enough to see yourself become the Valerica. Or however the saying went. ¡°Okay, so you can punch fast,¡± Momo said, then tilted her head. ¡°What else?¡± ¡°What do you mean, what else? Punching fast is like, a whole powerset in itself.¡± Momo snorted. ¡°Hardly.¡± With a huff, Mallmart raised her fists again, but instead of moving quickly to strike, she just just kept them there in the air¡ªher eyebrows knotted tightly in thought. After a long moment, in which Momo was about to pepper her more with Valerica-isms, she finally broke the silence, uttering a command under her breath. ¡°[Shadow Step]¡± The clone vanished. Momo¡¯s eyes widened, recalling that spell from a very different source. Nia Nightsbane. It was a pretty straightforward incantation¡ªone that allowed the woman to step through shadows. Only with the bright California sun shining over them, there weren¡¯t many shadows to step through on the bridge. Momo glanced around, her eyes flicking over cars and debris and tied up demons, trying to find where the clone could have jumped to. Momo felt goosebumps climb suddenly up her neck. Something¡¯s behind me. Instinctually Momo closed her eyes, and she saw Mallmart¡¯s soul chain appear two steps behind her back. She could see the clone¡¯s mana, wound like a spring, all concentrated into the palm of her hand, preparing to strike. Momo lifted her hand, and a wall of Nether rapidly burst from the ground at her back, erecting a barrier between her and the clone. The clone¡¯s fist clashed against it with a resounding thunk, and Mallmart groaned out in pain like she¡¯d punched a brick wall. ¡°What the hell!¡± she cried out. ¡°Not fair!¡± ¡°Hey. Language.¡± Momo turned around with a small, beaming smile on her face. The wall of Nether disintegrated, and Mallmart shook her red, inflamed knuckles. ¡°You used my own shadow to get behind me,¡± Momo said. She put a hand on her clone¡¯s shoulder and squeezed. ¡°I¡¯ve never been more proud, Mini Me.¡± Mallmart blinked, briefly stunned by the praise. She didn¡¯t let it show for long though, her cheeks reddening as her mask of indifference found its way back to her face. ¡°Whatever. I still didn¡¯t actually hit you,¡± Mallmart grumbled, then she brightened slightly as the reflection of a system screen fell over her eyes. ¡°But I did seem to get a level up out of it. No thanks to all your taunting.¡± Momo laughed. ¡°If you had hit me on your first level, I would have had to retire from godhood.¡± She was serious. That level of embarrassment would have been unrecoverable. She was sure her ego would have found a way to shrivel back down to mortal size. But Mallmart Momo was already eager to begin again, rolling up her sleeves with a new bounce in her step courtesy of the level up. Momo stopped her with a flash of her hand. Mallmart winced, newly traumatized and ready for another wall to erect itself in front of her, but Momo just laughed. ¡°No wall,¡± she said. ¡°It¡¯s just not your turn anymore.¡± ¡°Not my¡ªhuh?¡± Turning on her heel, Momo came to a stop in front of Marie. She grinned. ¡°Your turn, lab coat.¡± Mallmart crossed her arms, not hiding her childish frustration as all the attention turned to the newly robe-clad Marie. Judging by her outfit, and the class name Chaos Scholar, Momo assumed Marie wouldn¡¯t be particularly combat-focused. That was fine by her. Any class that was good at picking up other skills would be the most beneficial after all. Momo¡¯s end goal was to teach them all Purify. But any bonus qualifications were worth unearthing either way. ¡°I just want to see what skills you have,¡± Momo said softly, decidedly taking a gentler approach with the lab scientist. Despite being older than Mallmart, Marie was clearly less developed in the self confidence department¡ªand Momo herself knew better than anyone how fragile a person could be at that stage. Careful handling was required. Marie nodded slowly, and then unexpectedly reached for Mallmart¡¯s hand. The younger clone raised an eyebrow in consternation as light blue magic passed from Marie¡¯s palm to her own, and the angry redness spread across Mallmart¡¯s knuckles dulled. ¡°Healing magic?¡± Momo said, a question in her voice. That seemed to be the obvious answer¡ªbut it also seemed too easy a conclusion. There was something else going on there. She could tell by the vibration in the mana. It was unstable. Marie meekly held up her own hand. It had started to redden in the exact same place. Momo¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Mana transference,¡± she whispered. Mallmart¡¯s injury had become Marie¡¯s. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen that before. Do you feel the pain, too?¡± Marie shook her head back and forth. ¡°No. For whatever reason, I can¡¯t feel a thing,¡± she said. Her eyes had lit up with something that wasn¡¯t quite the fear Momo was expecting¡ªthey were wide with something closer to feverish curiosity. ¡°But I do get the sense that the damage is still being inflicted. The skin exhibits all the same qualities. Broken blood vessels and the like.¡± With a hum, Momo strolled up to her and silently asked to inspect her hand, which Marie obliged with a blush. Momo turned Marie¡¯s palm over in her own, inspecting not the skin, but the mana lurking beneath it. The researcher was correct. The damage was there, but it had been contained. She had stolen Mallmart¡¯s wound without any of the attached suffering. ¡°Very interesting,¡± she whispered, returning the clone¡¯s hand. ¡°I have an inkling,¡± Marie began, then swallowed, as if unsure if she should divulge the information. ¡°That this spell can also be used to transfer wounds from one person to another. As in, I could have taken her wound and put it on someone else. But that seems like a terrible thing to do¡ªmisplacing injuries like that.¡± ¡°Or an incredibly powerful thing,¡± Momo returned, eyes wide. ¡°Putting your wounds back on the enemies that gave you them. This is a potential bombshell of a skill, Marie.¡± Marie swallowed, flushing deeper under the compliment. ¡°It certainly has, by my rough estimates, some potential. But there are limits to it,¡± the scientist said carefully, pushing up her glasses. ¡°The skill requires that I understand how to inflict the wound in order to transfer it. The knowledge requirement is a critical part of the Scholar class. It¡¯s only because I¡¯ve studied blunt force trauma back in med school that I was able to undo the wound on her knuckles. If it was an injury inflicted by pure magic¡ªis that the right technical term?¡ªI¡¯m not sure I¡¯d be able to replicate it. I¡¯ll have to do a lot of reading in the area in order to get up to snuff on it all.¡± Marie seemed the opposite of upset by the idea of doing ¡®a lot of reading in the area.¡¯ In fact, her monologue, which had started with a deep grimace, had ended with a tepid smile growing up her cheeks. The class was obviously the right fit. ¡°Well, I¡¯m not sure what books on magic they have here on Earth given that the system landed, well, this morning, but I¡¯m sure we can find you some research subjects if nothing else,¡± Momo said. ¡°So, any other skills you want to show off? Or should we move onto¡ª¡± ¡°Uh, Momo?¡± Mallmart¡¯s hand had clasped tightly around Momo¡¯s shoulder. Confused, Momo looked back at her, and found the younger clone uncharacteristically stricken. Following her gaze, she looked at the other side of the bridge, where the giant had long since vanished from. She expected there to be nothing there except a few fallen steel beams, but that was not the case. Goblin Momo was standing in the center of a scene of carnage. Black puddles of Nether goo splattered across the pavement. And in the goblin¡¯s mouth, being chewed on absently while she picked at the black under her fingernails, was the unmistakable arm of a former Nether demon. ¡°Oh boy,¡± Momo mumbled. ¡°Maybe I should have let her go first.¡± 303 – Kavamommok ¡°So, you sent Cool Momo home without blinking, but now you''re getting all sentimental over a flesh-eating goblin?¡± ¡°For the record,¡± Momo said. ¡°Nether Demons technically don¡¯t have flesh.¡± Mallmart groaned and slapped a hand over her face. Momo had the smaller clone scooped up in her arms, carrying her bridal-style as they soared over to the other side of the shattered bridge. She¡¯d already delivered Marie and Richard safely across, and so far, the goblin¡¯s murderous streak thankfully seemed limited to Nether Demons. Not a hair on their precious human heads had been chewed on. ¡°Semantics,¡± Mallmart muttered. Momo scoffed. ¡°Where¡¯d you even learn that word? I didn¡¯t know that word at your age.¡± ¡°Because, unlike you, I¡¯m actually studying for my SATs.¡± That earned a surprised laugh from Momo. She looked down at Mallmart with a smile, proud, but the younger version refused to meet her eyes, arms crossed and cheeks red. Clearly, that bit of honesty had slipped out by accident. ¡°That¡¯s really great,¡± Momo said, earnestly. She probably meant it more than anything she¡¯d ever said. If Teenage Momo was actually studying, maybe she¡¯d end up somewhere better than the random state school her original self had puttered off to. Maybe she''d manage to make something of herself¡ªwithout needing to die first to figure her life out. Momo swooped lower, gliding through the air until her feet touched down on the bridge with a soft thud. As soon as they landed, Mallmart wriggled free, stepping back with a huff. ¡°Bumpiest flight I¡¯ve ever been on.¡± Momo rolled her eyes, then glanced over at Kava, who was busy picking at her teeth with a sharp fingernail. Evidently, there was still some Nether Demon gunk lodged in there. Richard and Marie were keeping a cautious distance, with Richard looking highly suspicious and Marie mildly horrified. So much for team bonding. ¡°Kava,¡± Momo greeted, hoping to catch her attention. The goblin barely looked up, grunting before going back to her teeth maintenance. ¡°Looks like you got¡­ busy!¡± Kava didn¡¯t justify her with a response, continuing to pick at her teeth. Momo pressed her lips together. Mallmart, annoyingly, had a point. She couldn¡¯t exactly communicate with Kava; how was she supposed to make her a real part of the team? There had to be a way. She reached over and grabbed Kava¡¯s wrist, looking up at her imploringly. The goblin frowned, clearly wondering why this strange lady was now holding her arm. ¡°Just¡­ give me a second, alright?¡± Momo said, enunciating each word as if that would magically bridge the language gap. ¡°Stay right here. Don¡¯t move.¡± The goblin¡¯s grunt was close enough to an ¡°okay¡± for Momo, who turned and began searching through her System, flicking impatiently through panels. She hadn¡¯t had time to fully explore it since arriving¡ªmaybe, just maybe, there was a language setting hidden in there somewhere? She poked around a little more, and accidentally triggered her quest again. YOUR FIRST REAPING Quest Description: At the time of target¡¯s death, open a Nether rift and escort target¡¯s soul to the designated replicant area. Use caution to not appear threatening. Avoid being perceived by other mortals. If widespread public perception occurs, please contact the Nether Lore Department so a suitable excuse can be concocted and the timeline can remain in balance. Quest Rewards: Access to the full [Domain: Reaping] Lvl. 1 skillset So much for maintaining the timeline. And so much for her reaping skill set¡ªsince Richard was still very much alive, it looked like that skill progression would be on hold. Whatever. She was already knee-deep in power compared to everyone else on Earth; they were practically paddling in the mana kiddy-pool. Just as she moved to close the panel, her knuckle brushed the screen, triggering a haptic buzz. Curious, she repeated the motion¡ªthis time deliberately¡ªand an entire row of options sprang from the left of the screen. Character Sheet Contact Lore Department Contact System Administration Department Contact God/Goddess This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. System Overrides Wait¡­ what?! That had been there the whole time? Without giving it a second thought, she pressed the Contact God/Goddess button. Another panel sprang out immediately. A list of names were written across the screen, descending in alphabetical order: every god in the pantheon, and their lesser equivalents. She was about to scroll down to Valerica¡¯s name when the screen abruptly grayed out. Functionality Disabled Prerequisite Quest: Your First Reaping Momo clenched her fists. Because, of course. Sighing, she flicked back to the menu, testing each command, but each one returned the same disabled message¡ªuntil she reached System Overrides. System Overrides As a god, there are several System overrides you can use in order to make carrying out your responsibilities easier. Please use with caution and care as advised by a superior deity. If we notice that you are meddling too much with mortals that belong to other gods, you will have to answer to the Council. Momo snorted. The Council? She had been around Morgana long enough to know there was no such thing. It was probably just a threatening-sounding proper name that the System Administrators threw around in order to try and keep a semblance of checks and balances going. The image of Kyros being dragged into a dark room with a bunch of System admins in hoods and cloaks for a stern talking-to was downright hilarious. What would they use on the cat as punishment? A spray bottle? Temporary retraction of treats? Thoroughly amused, Momo scrolled down to see what overrides were actually available. Provide Blessing (Must Be Approved by Superior Deity) Temporary Skill or Stat Boost Provide Curse (Must Be Approved by Superior Deity) Temporary Negative Skill or Stat Boost Luckily, they were a few she could actually use. She reasoned it was because they required the approval of someone above her. ¡°Let¡¯s try this,¡± she mumbled, picking Provide Blessing from the list of options. Please specify what kind of blessing you want to apply. A long scrollable list appeared below the prompt. She hunted through them until she found a category called Language. Language Blessings Under Morgana¡¯s Domain None Oh. Suppressing a groan, she was about to exit the System completely when the thought struck her to check the curses. What do I have to lose? Sure enough, when she navigated to the Language section in Curses, it wasn¡¯t empty. Language Curses Under Morgana¡¯s Domain Curse of Tongues Momo grimaced. There was only one curse available to her, and the name wasn¡¯t exactly¡­ promising. She shouldn¡¯t have been surprised, though. Morgana wasn¡¯t exactly the God of Good Communication. Maybe the god of the opposite of that, actually. Curse Description: For the length of the curse, the Subject will forget how to speak in their native language. If you desire, you can specify a new language to assign to them. This can be used to scare the Subject¡¯s companions when they suddenly start speaking in a foreign language. To humans, this curse is known in popular culture as ¡°speaking in tongues¡± or ¡°devil speech.¡± A slow grin spread across her face. That¡¯ll do just fine. Selecting Kava as the recipient was as simple as looking at her; a white outline appeared around the goblin, and her information populated the System automatically. Momo set the duration to three weeks¡ªthe max¡ªand pressed Submit Request. The response was instantaneous. You¡¯ve reached Morgana¡¯s office of Death and Decay. Since she has retired, your request has been auto-approved. Don¡¯t use this to get away with anything too stupid. Momo shook her head. Does she even know me at all? Curse Applied A pulse of dark magic swirled around Kava, who stared wide-eyed at the swirling mist, momentarily pausing her tooth-picking to watch in awe. Mallmart shot Momo a sharp look. ¡°What did you do this time?¡± ¡°Patience,¡± Momo said, flapping her hand at the clone dismissively. A moment later, the black mist dissipated, and Kava narrowed her eyes at them. Everyone waited with baited breath for her to say something, but she just stood there, eyebrows furrowed as if she was trying to piece together a puzzle. Momo couldn¡¯t exactly blame her. Losing your language and getting slapped with a new one was bound to be a lightly traumatizing¡ªerr, enlightening¡ªexperience. ¡°Kava?¡± Momo ventured, stepping closer. The goblin didn''t flinch when Momo gripped the rough edge of her leather sleeve. ¡°Can you understand me?¡± Kava''s crimson eyes went wide, then narrowed. Without warning, she leaned in and cupped Momo¡¯s chin, roughly tilting her head side to side like a parent checking for head injuries. The goblin¡¯s stare was intense, almost reverent. Then, slowly, she licked her lips. ¡°Say again,¡± Kava grunted. Her speech was gruff, as if each word had been chewed on first. There was an accent too¡ªrough, guttural, like a grumpy Russian landlord. Clearly, whatever magic had rewired her brain for human language hadn¡¯t accounted for the actual physical makeup of her body. The sound wasn¡¯t coming from vocal chords, but somewhere deeper. Momo blinked, seeing her own reflection in the goblin¡¯s eyes. ¡°Hi, Kava,¡± she mumbled, finding it hard to speak with how tightly Kava was pressing her cheeks together, her lips pursed like a pufferfish. ¡°I¡¯m Momo.¡± Kava¡¯s nostrils flared. Something sharp and peculiar flickered in her eyes. Recognition? Curiosity? Hunger? ¡°Momo,¡± she repeated, savoring the sound. Then, with a scoff, she released Momo¡¯s face and folded her arms, looking thoroughly unimpressed. ¡°You should have said name sooner,¡± Kava huffed. ¡°All this time, I thought you were just overgrown babbling monkey. But no¡ªyou are monkey that learned talk.¡± For a moment, Momo could only blink, processing the insult wrapped in garbled grammar. Next to her, Mallmart was doubled over, cackling. ¡°Forget everything I said,¡± Mallmart wheezed, grinning deviously at Momo. ¡°We¡¯re absolutely keeping her. Kava, welcome to the team." Kava¡¯s expression shifted as she eyed the smaller Momo, clearly unimpressed by the human¡¯s laughter. The goblin sauntered over to the teenager, and then drilled a pointed red fingernail lightly into her chest. Mallmart swallowed. ¡°Smaller monkey. Kava is not name. My name is¡­¡± She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a dramatic whisper. ¡°Kavamommok.¡± Mallmart snorted, the veneer of intimidation broken immediately. ¡°Kavamommok? Really?¡± Kava huffed, arms crossed, looking both proud and offended. ¡°Yes. Strong name. Passed down through many goblin generations. Means ¡®One-Who-Squashes-Like-Hammer.¡¯ But, eh, if you want to be lazy, Kava is fine, I guess.¡± Momo butted in before Mallmart could get another¡ªplausibly insulting¡ªword in, thrusting her hand forward to take the goblin¡¯s in a handshake. The goblin just stared down at it. ¡°Welcome to the team,¡± she said, beaming. ¡°Kavamommok.¡±