Marloes cut through mega typhoon scale wind and rain.

  Her armor’s thrusters helped keep her on target as she leapt from skyscraper to skyscraper across the lightning-infested Tokyo sky.

  Dark as night when the clock in her HUD read just a little after ten in the morning.

  “Yay! So scary!”

  Dashing Bandit Celebration floated alongside her inside a green bubble constructed by the ring-wielding tanuki stuffed animal.

  If it was the ring-wielder alone then the other mahou shoujo wouldn’t have been able to keep pace with Marloes, let alone stay relatively stable in the impossibly strong winds.

  Two other tanuki’s flew the bubble and its occupants.

  One wore a blue costume with a red cape.

  The other was in plain black workout attire.

  Marloes glanced at the third tanuki toy flying above them.

  What was it with them and the red capes?

  Regardless of how dumb those things were— the capes, not the tanuki plushies— she couldn’t complain since that one’s tiny hammer was attracting all the lightning strikes that got too close.

  “See! I told you he could do it.”

  Marloes was petty.

  She didn’t want to encourage the other mahou shoujo.

  Dashing Bandit Celebration would be smug all night with even the smallest praise.

  “He’s married, you know.”

  “Ugh. I told you it’s not like that. I just admire Relentless for his power. He’s also the strongest member of my Avenging Justice.”

  “Avenge— you changed their name again…”

  “It’s just good business. Periodic updates means new merchandise, which gives me more points to spend for upgrading my guys. And my fans like it. That’s why I change their costumes. I’m thinking of making alternate reality ones.”

  “You know you’re exploiting your fans, right?”

  “I’ll have you know my prices are among the lowest.” Dashing Bandit Celebration huffed, clutching her huge, hulking, green tanuki plushy tighter to her armored chest as it continued to grunt and growl like an angry gorilla. “You’re just jealous your merchandise—”

  “Quiet! I see something.”

  Marloes stopped at the edge of the building.

  The zoom feature in her helmet showed her an iceberg in the middle of the street pushing into the buildings.

  “That’s new.”

  “I’m detecting a heat signature near the base.”

  Dashing Bandit Celebration giggled.

  “What?”

  “You pretend to be too good for all the stuff I keep trying to get you into, but you talk just like the characters.” She eyed Marloes with a raised brow. “Act like them too. Hmmm? Curious?”

  Marloes finished her scan.

  “There’s a person inside the ice. Center, near the base. Alive.”

  “Then let’s rescue!”

  The pair landed on the ice hill and noticed something down on the street that had been hidden on the other side.

  A two-wheeled pile of twisted metal and scattered bits near a broken body in shiny black armor.

  “She’s alive too.”

  “Too bad.”

  Marloes shared the sentiment.

  Reon Miki tortured and killed a lot of people. Was part of the cursed group of five that had turned Jester into a decayed puppet.

  Marloes trusted Cal when he had said that the kamen rider was genuinely seeking redemption. More importantly, at least to Marloes, Reon Miki knew that she could never truly find it.

  Eternal punishment was fitting.

  It was the main reason she hadn’t complained to Cal too much about it.

  Plus, he had made assurances to her satisfaction that Reon Miki would never repeat the evil done at the Imperial Palace.

  “Hmmm… maybe those crabs are hungry, yeah?”

  She followed Dashing Bandit Celebration’s point to a small cluster of human-sized crab-things slowly crawling toward the injured Reon Miki.

  The ice hill had blocked most of the mighty wind otherwise, the kamen rider, her mantiscycle and the crab monsters would all been blown away.

  It wasn’t even a decision for Marloes.

  She peppered their spiky shells with AP bullets, killing them all in an instant.

  “You—”

  Comms static crackled to life briefly, interrupting her.

  They listened in vain, but couldn’t get more than what sounded like an urgent call for help amidst the sounds of a fight.

  “The wet stuff sounds like stabbing,” Dashing Bandit Celebration added helpfully. “JSDF in trouble, yeah? Annoying politicians too, I guess?” She shrugged.

  They weren’t far from HQ.

  Just on the other side of the buildings ahead.

  “Can you get that person out?”

  “I guess. I have two with heat vision. I can melt the ice easy, but I’ll have to make sure the water drains down and away. I wouldn’t want to drown them,” Dashing Bandit Celebration mused.

  “Great. Do that, then do first aid on both of them.”

  The other mahou shoujo made a face like a pile of burning excrement had been suddenly spellcast in front of her face.

  “You want Cal to give you a shot?”

  “Stupid government cockblockers always blocking my fun and levels,” she muttered darkly. “I’ll show them critical asset…”

  “I’ll push harder to get you on the team. At least for a Quest.”

  “Two… and they have to be big!” She threw her arms wide open. “Like, hugest ever Quest! A World Event!”

  “I’ll try, but she doesn’t die here,” Marloes pointed at the unconscious Reon Miki.

  “Okay, but I’m not touching her mantisbike.”

  “Fine, it’ll heal itself anyway.”

  “Shit! What if it attacks me?”

  “Your Avenging Squad can probably handle it. Besides, it’s smart like a horse. It should be able to tell that you’re helping its owner.”

  “Done!” Dashing Bandit Celebration mimed a handshake from inside her green bubble. “No take backs!”

  Marloes nodded and engaged her thrusters, leaping into the turbulent winds and all-encompassing rain.

  …

  HQ was fucked.

  She saw it right away.

  Huge holes had been blasted all over.

  The edges were charred and smoldering despite the falling rivers of rain.

  She leapt atop a taller sky scraper to get a god’s eye view.

  A hole larger than the rest gaped up at her like a portal to hell.

  She had been on enough deadly Quests to imagine what she’d find inside.

  The buildings defenses had fallen silent.

  No shields, no weapons fire.

  Nothing on the comms.

  Observe first, she thought. Priorities?

  Did she need to enter HQ?

  She was an independent.

  There were rules about coming to the aid of the nation, but in practice she wasn’t truly bound by them.

  Not that she’d abandon civilians in danger.

  It became murky for her when it was JSDF and government officials in danger.

  They could… should be responsible for themselves. If they claimed power, then they had to protect it.

  The staff, the rank and file would fall under the civilian umbrella as far as she was concerned.

  And then there were the diplomatic groups that had offices in the building.

  Cal had said those were important.

  Especially, the one from Southern California.

  She scanned the black sky and gave up.

  No sign of the ranger skyship.

  She wasn’t sure if it could handle the winds, which meant it had done the smart thing and flew above it.

  So, no aid from them.

  The seconds ticked.

  Thoughts returned to the storm.

  It was clearly unnatural, which suggested it could be cleared or at least weakened by destroying the source.

  She returned her attention to the gaping hole.

  It really looked like one of her favorite tactics.

  A violent breach.

  She could almost see the greatest of all lightning bolts punching down from the black heavens.

  How far down?

  She brought up HQ’s floor plan on her HUD.

  The government would be upset to find out that she had detailed schematics even down to the newer parts of the complex underneath the old construction.

  “Shit.”

  She could draw a straight line down the gaping hole all the way to the command center.

  …

  Rain pooled on the roof and flowed into the hole like a waterfall.

  A thick pillar of lightning flashed from the black sky, knocking Marloes back from the edge.

  Alerts flashed in her HUD.

  No lasting damage, but she wasn’t going to risk a direct hit.

  She leapt into the thick steam and fell, aiming for a lower floor. Gloved fingers caught a broken, jagged edge, allowing her to swing her legs forward into the floor below. She back flipped, landing on her boots just as another lighting strike instantly vaporized the waterfall behind her.

  Marloes waited, counting the seconds until the next strike. Then the next and more.

  The intervals between each were different.

  Which meant diving into the hole had been a larger risk than she had thought.

  She stood in an empty office.

  Protocol dictated that the above ground levels were to be abandoned for the bunker complex underground.

  Her sensors pinged that not everyone had done so.

  Several floors down and southeast from her position.

  She didn’t have time to walk and take the stairs so, she shot her way through the floors until she found herself staring down the barrels of several recoilless rifles.

  The Southern California ambassador’s security team. Rayna’s Rangers.

  Unlike her they didn’t have the full armor. Merely, Threnium helmets and body armor, which left them vulnerable at the joints and gaps between the thin plates protecting their extremities.

  There were several severed limbs leaking crimson into the hallway’s drab, gray carpet.

  “Your six!” one of the rangers shouted.

  Marloes didn’t do the amateur thing of turning around.

  She simple fired bullets behind her, filling the entire space with hot, armor-piercing lead.

  Then she turned around.

  Nothing?

  The air shimmered, revealing orange whips of light lashing at her like angry vipers.

  She covered her face.

  The faceplate was the weakest part of her armor.

  Temperature warnings beeped in her HUD.

  She fired again.

  This time she didn’t stop until the shimmer in the air frizzled out to reveal a humanoid in full armor not that different from hers, at least on first look.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Well… not different in appearance, but definitely different in protection. Otherwise the humanoid wouldn’t have been leaking red from what must’ve been hundreds of holes.

  Her HUD confirmed the kill, but she wasn’t going to take a chance.

  Double tap.

  In the chest and head.

  The figure toppled and remained still.

  The rest of the hallway lay shredded by her barrage.

  That seemed like a JSDF and government problem to her.

  Served them right for always giving her a hard time about her, quote, unquote, lack of loyalty.

  She pulled the humanoid’s helmet off.

  “Well… damn it.”

  She found a man, young-looking with light-colored hair that didn’t quite fit with what she was familiar with. His skin color was even weirder. Light blue-ish mixed with yellow-ish. She scanned the rest of the dead enemy… soldier? His gear did give her that vibe. Not much in the way of individualistic flair. The only thing of note was a weird symbol on his right chest, unfortunately most of it had been ruined by her bullet holes.

  “Whoa! It’s one of those alien persons. He kinda looks Asian… but… not?” The ranger that had warned her stepped closer and began taking pictures with a thin smartphone.

  Marloes felt a frown and biting comment forming on the tip of her tongue.

  “Sorry. Standing orders. Document everything from other worlds if it is safe to do so.”

  She let it go.

  “Um, hi,” the ranger put her phone into one of the many compartments on her person and held out a gloved hand. “I know you, um, I mean not personally, but I’ve seen you.”

  Marloes ignored the ranger.

  “I mean, I’m Ranger Slowtime.” She hastily pulled her hand away like she had been just about to shake hands with a tentacled ravager. “I, um, know you from training… I mean…”

  “This isn’t the time.”

  “I know, right, I’m being weird, sorry. I just, I’m friends with Ranger Goldenspoon, er…” she leaned forward, placing her faceplate close to Marloes chest. “You know, Boy?” she whispered.

  “It still isn’t the time.”

  “I watched you training a few times and your videos. When we trained in the Danger Complex and Boy’s dad’s mindscape stuff back in junior rangers.” The words came out of Ranger Slowtime in a rush.

  Marloes remembered, not the young woman specifically.

  Boy’s friends had been a faceless blob to her. The boys had ogled her when they thought she wasn’t looking, except for the gay ones. The girls had stared at her with a mixture of awe and jealousy and, for the gay ones, attraction. Truthfully, it wasn’t that different from how most people looked at her when she didn’t have a personal or professional relationship with them.

  “I mean, it’s not like I knew it was you on account of your armor being plain and how you, um, still have your faceplate in dark mode, but I knew it right away when you shot your bullets without a gun or bullets… so cool!”

  “Your commander?”

  Marloes didn’t have time for fangirling. She never had time for that.

  “Oh… right, captain’s out. This guy,” Ranger Slowtime prodded the dead enemy soldier with her boot, “cut off her arms and legs. We had full sensors going, but whatever type of invisibility he had beat them. Pinned us down in that office. So, uh, I’m in command, ma’am.” She saluted. “Requesting assistance to the bunker. It’s my squad, with a few casualties, this butthole liked cutting off arms and legs, got a few of us and some of the government employees that we found. That’s why we’re still up here. The ambassador wanted us to collect as many as we could on the way down.” Ranger Slowtime frowned. “A lot of people sheltered in place. I thought the policy was to sprint for the bunker?”

  “You’re not wrong. Do you have comms with the skyship?”

  “Off and on. Last comm said they were engaged with some kind of other flying ship. So, no backup from them. Not that they’ve got any squads that much stronger than us.” Ranger Slowtime prodded the corpse again. “He’s higher level than us for sure. Not you, though.” She gave a thumbs up and a nervous smile.

  Well… shit…

  Marloes stifled a curse.

  Was it too much to ask for air support?

  “What’s your plan?”

  The ranger shrugged. “We’re breaking through the floors, aiming for one the side access points to the bunker. And keeping our distance from those huge surges of power from somewhere near the center of the building. You wouldn’t happen to know about that?”

  “Lightning strikes aimed at the hardened command center.”

  “Ah… that makes sense.” Ranger Slowtime chewed her lip a moment. “So… you think the bunker might not be the safe option?”

  “The winds will sweep you off the street.” She eyed the corpse. “I don’t know if there are more roaming the building. The lightning hasn’t penetrated the bunker last I saw. Safe? No. Nowhere is safe in Tokyo right now. Safer? You’re in charge. You decide.”

  “Damn it,” Ranger Slowtime muttered. “I was afraid of that.” She winced. “Right, bunker then. Let’s go!”

  Marloes nodded with approval at the decisiveness, which she had assumed was missing from the ranger based on their entire interaction.

  Ranger Slowtime led her to the office where a small group of people stayed low to the floor behind overturned desks and chairs and away from the windows.

  Another ranger was in the process of hacking a hole through the floor with an axe.

  The ranger led her to a slight old man that looked liked a kid in his dad’s borrowed armor.

  “Ambassador, this is—”

  “Not important. I’m going to help you get to the bunker.”

  Marloes didn’t waste time.

  She shooed the ranger away from the hole and blasted straight down several floors in seconds.

  The bunker might not have been safe, but it was definitely safer than out in the unnatural typhoon or in the HQ with who knows how many invisible elites wielding whips that cut through flesh and bone like a hot knife through butter.

  Orulon stood like a statue as he watched lightning bolts strike the dark gray metal ceiling roughly every few seconds.

  The communication bead in his ear hummed slightly like it always did a split-second before someone spoke.

  “No, Commander Richeslaer. I haven’t breached the enemy command center, yet.”

  “Our bubble is close to timing out up here.”

  He was empathetic to the Secret Dagger team’s commander’s concerns about how they’d fair high up in the hyperstorm without the magic bubble keeping them safe. However, calling every minute was pointless.

  “Send the rest of your team just before the spell ends. As planned.”

  “But, the plan is to have most of us riding the lightning straight into the enemy’s command center.”

  A handful had already used Commander Richeslaer’s powerful Skill to enter the building by hitching a ride on a lightning bolt.

  They’d done good work taking out stragglers that might’ve posed the threat of an ill-timed blade in their backs.

  “I shall contact you when I have breached. The plan remains unchanged.”

  “Understood, Benedine.”

  She sounded displeased.

  Not that he cared.

  He turned his gaze back to the glowing metal.

  It had taken longer than he expected, but it was working.

  He had blown out the magical defenses within the first few lightning strikes, but after that…

  Strange metal.

  It didn’t take the strikes like steel.

  The intel hadn’t said anything about unknown metals in the construction.

  Regardless, he judged that it was glowing brightly enough.

  Past experience was often the best way to gather intelligence.

  He leapt down from the ruined section onto the glowing metal.

  Warm under his bare feet.

  The torrential downpour sizzled on contact, shrouding him in pleasant steam.

  Lightning landed on him.

  The mild shock reminded him of the childhood game before his superpowered nature had awoken of licking batteries.

  It was a nostalgic feeling that made him smile even as he began to peel the glowing metal like it was the sticky sweet dough he helped the master baker with at his estate.

  Helped?

  More like annoyed, he had realized in adulthood.

  The baker had been entirely too indulging of the child Orulon.

  Indeed, it wasn’t until he was much older did he realize that not every child had their own estate. Complete with mansion, lake, forest and, somehow, a beach.”

  “Prepare your team, commander.”

  …

  Orulon plunged through the opening feet first within a raging waterfall.

  He called the wind down, funneling it through the hole in the enemy HQ.

  It scattered the weak, knocking them down and forcing them to take cover behind desks and tables.

  Shouts went up at the same time as weapons and spells fired.

  Freezing cold responded to his will.

  Water froze into a wall around him.

  “This next bolt is for you, commander. Don’t miss it.” He grinned.

  The storm obeyed.

  A massive lightning bolt fell on him.

  Less pleasant than that old battery-licking game, but not enough to actually hurt… too much.

  What was that one thing his weird Benedine friend from the academy used to say?

  “Ah… pain is the cleanser.”

  He had never quite gotten it.

  Then again, his friend was always just a little off.

  The lighting forked in multiple directions as it struck.

  Like a sudden, hot, violent upside down spider tree.

  Members of the Secret Dagger team suddenly appeared out of each bright branch.

  Ride the Lightning.

  Commander Richeslaer's rare Skill.

  Battle joined.

  Enemy caught off-guard died with each slash or shot by the dark-armored soldiers.

  Orulon acknowledged that many weren’t soldiers.

  They weren’t armored or armed. Soft-looking. Weak.

  Support staff.

  Administrative, clerical and the like.

  Young Earth men and women just performing their duties.

  He recognized the fear in their faces. The short lives flashing in their wide eyes.

  The only solace was that they died quickly.

  Seconds passed.

  He spotted the true leaders.

  Some armed and armored.

  Others relying on true soldiers for protection.

  They made for the thick, steel doors.

  Three of them, equidistant from the center of the command center where he stood in the smoking ruins of what must’ve been a large display bank judging by the dark, broken glass screens.

  “Focus on the leaders! They do not leave this chamber!”

  The quicker they killed those the less deaths they’d need to inflict.

  The toll rose if they escaped into the other chambers where many workers and other civilians had taken refuge from the storm.

  That was perhaps the second thing he dreaded most about the Quest.

  He remembered the details.

  Takes lives or preserve them.

  As those numbers increased the more he benefited.

  He just preferred the latter.

  He leapt after the group heading to the northeastern door.

  An Earth man, more machine than man, met him with an outstretched hand.

  It split open to reveal a many-tailed lash of thin strands that he only saw because they glowed.

  Warmth stung him all over his body.

  He felt the minuscule welts form even as he knifed a bare hand through the machine man’s chest.

  Crimson and other colored fluids erupted.

  So… not entirely machine.

  He ripped the soldier in two, scattering the others with the hard, heavy parts.

  “Stop!”

  His target was another Earth human male in the prime of life.

  Strong jaw, muscular body not hidden by what he could tell was a finely-crafted suit.

  Perhaps, what passed for high-status formal attire for the local culture.

  Sadly, he wouldn’t be able to ask.

  “Commanding voice.” He nodded. “I’m not one of yours.”

  He jabbed, crushing the leader’s throat.

  An unnecessary terrifying and drawn out death as one struggled to draw air through a pathway incapable.

  Thus, he reached out and snapped the man’s neck.

  He regarded the rest in a fraction of a second.

  Soldiers or bodyguards.

  A few support staff.

  Assistants, judging from the instruments in their hands and arms.

  Very similar to the data slates his people used.

  If less elegant and artistic.

  “We’re only after your leadership. Surrender and we shall spare your lives. I understand you are soldiers, so I will not begrudge you when you choose to continue the fight.”

  He leapt away.

  Let them have more time to think it over.

  A single bound across the chamber at nearly the speed of a projectile from the barrel of the Secret Dagger’s silent weapon.

  A fist as dark as the blackest night crashed into a green panel of light covering floor to high ceiling.

  The young girl wearing a mixture of what looked like ceremonial robes and tactical armor like the other soldiers holding her hands out behind it cried out as crimson bled from her nose and eyes.

  The green barrier cracked under Orulon’s dark fist, yet didn’t break.

  Soldiers shepherded an old man in what he took to be a military uniform toward the thick, steel door.

  A frown creased his brow.

  That wasn’t right at all.

  They would leave a child behind as rearguard.

  It was a fallen culture that utilized child soldiers.

  Whether through moral and ethical decrepitude or desperate need, it didn’t matter to him.

  What it showed was a nation that needed changing.

  “Brave young soldier. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  She glared up at him with a crimson-drenched face.

  “More than I already have,” he amended. “Please, drop your barrier. I only want your old leader. The one that led you to this moment. I shall not harm anyone else as long as they surrender. I promise you that all will be treated with respect and dignity. We simply wish to take some of your land.” He spoke to her as he would want another to speak to him had the situation been reversed. There was no need to be patronizing. “Not even this land, but land to your distant north where only monsters and beasts reside.”

  “Then why even attack us, huh?” She snarled. “Why didn’t you ask?”

  “My leadership deemed this way efficient.”

  She said nothing as she strengthened the barrier.

  He tapped it, watching intently as the cracks slowly disappeared.

  Judging by her bleeding he guessed that the damage was reflected in her brain.

  Traumatic brain injury was serious.

  How much force was the least amount needed to break through in one punch?

  Repeated blows were worse than one.

  He punched.

  A fist colored as the brightest day broke through, shattering the green like delicate glass.

  The girl cried out and toppled backwards, eyes rolling back.

  He was at her side before she slammed her helmet-less head on the wet metal floor.

  She still breathed, so he carried her quickly to the side of the wall, out of the way of the rest of the battle as much as possible.

  He pulled a healing gem from one of his pouches of holding and placed it on her forehead, speaking the magic words of activation.

  Orulon was not going to be responsible for the death or brain damage of a child soldier.

  Unfortunately, those precious seconds had allowed the military leader and his soldiers to reach the steel door and escape the killing chamber.

  Orulon gave chase.

  He was faster than most of them.

  Definitely faster than an old man without the aid of machine body parts like some of the soldiers.

  He caught them at the end of a short tunnel despite the automated weapons bursting out of hiding places in the walls, ceiling and floor spraying him with everything from small metal projectiles to flames to corrosive liquid to concussive explosions.

  Soldiers turned to hold the door as others ushered the old man.

  Orulon bit back a curse.

  His worse case scenario was unfolding.

  He knew their type.

  They’d throw every noncombatant his way to slow him down.

  The thought killed his mercy.

  He burst past the half-machine soldiers in a shower of gore and acrid liquid.

  Tiny engines in their chests and limbs exploded.

  Whether a byproduct of their messy deaths or a deadman’s switch, a last-ditch effort to take him with them didn’t matter.

  He breached the doorway, explosively plowing the thick steel aside like it was made of thin, hollow wood.

  It was as he feared.

  A mass of people screamed as they ran away.

  He instantly clocked the old military man and his escorts roughly pushing their way to the front of the crowd.

  Perhaps, he could minimize the deaths with an accurate leap?

  However, the ceiling was much lower in this chamber.

  Maybe, it would okay to let this leader escape for now?

  While he debated a glimmer out of the corner of his bright half’s eye caught his attention.

  A burst of light, like out of an old-fashioned combustion weapon.

  He wasn’t too worried.

  Those didn’t tend to pose a threat.

  He could react quick enough to dodge the aim. He was durable enough to ignore the hit if he didn’t bother.

  His head moved to one side.

  Like a light tap.

  A child’s punch.

  He noticed one moving against the tide of fleeing Earth humans.

  A female.

  Tall.

  Her head stood above most in the crowd.

  A dark faceplate.

  Dark gray armor.

  Full coverage.

  No gaps.

  No visible weapons, but that was meaningless.

  Orulon strained his ears, watching, listening to her move with careful haste, struggling to avoid hurting others in their panic to run past her.

  The hum of power sources. The contracting and relaxing of artificial muscle fibers.

  Ah… powered armor.

  Like those equipped by the Secret Dagger team.

  Except, significantly superior judging by the sounds.

  What had the so-called demigod’s intel said about—

  Orulon’s eyes widened.

  Superior senses and reflexes allowed him to see the artillery shell emerge out of nothing a finger’s width from his face.

  Unfortunately, they didn’t allow him to do more than close his eyes and mouth, but not too tight, before it hit.