As those words fell, three more figures appeared, identical in both appearance and bearing, bringing the total to four. They descended slightly, gazing down at us with cold, assessing intent.
“This is precisely why I detest creatures from underdeveloped worlds,” one of the beings said coldly. “To think you could not even fulfill a single request from our lord.”
“Now, now,” another interjected, its tone condescending even through the distortion. “Their very construction is different from ours. Expecting the same standards from inferior life-forms would be unreasonable.”
“Besides,” a third added with a faint note of amusement, “it seems they have at least managed to bring along our lord’s objective.”
While the strange beings carried on the conversation entirely among themselves, we were left standing there, completely ignored.
Unable to help myself, I finally spoke up.
“Um… you attacked us out of nowhere, and now you’re talking over us, so could you maybe tell us who you actually are?”
“Hmph. To speak without our permission,” one of them replied. “Under normal circumstances, we would end your life immediately. However, as a reward for delivering our objective, we will enlighten you.”
“We are the Four Heavenly Kings of Space,” it declared with pride. “Servants of Lord Gyogyon, the one destined to become the new ruler of the cosmos.”
“That name’s way lamer than I expected!”
The phrasing alone made it obvious they were some kind of cosmic entity. Still, I had been expecting something with a bit more… gravitas. Something cooler. Not “Four Heavenly Kings of Space,” which sounded about as subtle as a blunt instrument.
The instant the words left my mouth, I clapped a hand over it.
“S-Sorry! I didn’t mean anything by it! I just thought it sounded kind of lame, that’s all. And, uh, you keep calling us inferior life-forms, so I figured your sense of aesthetics might be a little… unusual…”
“Seiichi,” Al said flatly, “that explanation is not helping.”
“Huh?”
I looked back at the aliens and immediately regretted it. Their faces had flushed a vivid red, almost like an octopus reacting to stress.
Oh. That definitely landed.
“To mock us so brazenly…!”
“I-I mean, it’s true people say everything about Planet Gyogyo is lame, but still!”
“You didn’t have to say it out loud!”
Wait. Were they actually taking emotional damage?
“It is precisely because beings like you, who cannot comprehend our refined sense of style, exist that—”
“Once Lord Gyogyon conquers the universe, no one will dare mock us ever again!”
“Enjoy flaunting your pitiful sense of style while you still can!”
“Wait, what? That’s the reason for conquering the universe?”
You have got to be kidding me. They were planning universal domination just because people said their taste was lame?
That line of thinking alone was cutting-edge in the worst possible way.
“Enough of this!” one of them barked. “Kill everyone except the objective and offer it to Lord Gyogyon at once!”
“Yes!”
“Tch!”
The aliens shifted their gazes to Lady Muu, then thrust their arms toward us in unison.
Strapped to each of their arms was what looked like a tablet device. The moment they manipulated it, the armor covering their forearms began to morph.
The transformation was dramatic. In the blink of an eye, their armored arms reshaped into cannon barrels, reminiscent of a certain blue warrior from a virtual world or a notorious space pirate.
The difference was obvious, though.
The barrels were unmistakably fish-shaped.
“Be erased before this marvel of Planet Gyogyo’s technology, the ‘Amazing Beam’!”
“That name is awful!”
No, awful was underselling it. It was not even creative. Did the inventor never once stop to think, “Maybe we should workshop this?”
Before I could finish mentally tearing it apart, the aliens fired all at once.
Wowo. Wowo. Wowo. Wowo.
First of all, that sound. Between their appearance, their planet’s name, and now this, everything about them screamed fish. Even the beam sounded like someone chanting “fish, fish, fish.” If anything, I half expected it to go blub-blub-blub instead.
The beam was not a straight ray of light like I had imagined, either. Instead, glowing fish-shaped projectiles surged toward us in a writhing school, darting through the air as if alive.
I found myself staring far too intently at the bizarre beam when Al suddenly grabbed my arm.
“Seiichi! This is not the time to be calmly observing!”
“Huh?! Oh, right! We have no idea what that beam even is, so for now we should retreat and figure things out first!”
The moment I said that, something strange happened.
“K… Kisha…”
“Huh?”
“What?”
The glowing school of light-fish suddenly began to writhe. Their mouths opened and closed as if gasping for air, and then their bodies started to crumble. One after another, they broke apart into particles of light and vanished completely.
No matter how I looked at it, it was identical to a school of fish dying from oxygen deprivation.
“…”
The sheer absurdity of the scene robbed everyone of their words. Then, for some reason, every single gaze except the aliens’ turned toward me.
“At this point, it is painfully obvious whose fault this is.”
“Seiichi-dono truly is… beyond comprehension.”
“Wait, this is my fault?!”
“Who else would it be?” Al replied flatly.
“That makes no sense!”
With the others pointing it out so seriously and Al shutting me down so calmly, I felt completely cornered. I had not done anything. Not a single thing.
“O-Our beam?!”
“What did you do?! What did you do to it?!”
“That beam contains the pinnacle of Planet Gyogyo’s technology! Anyone struck by it should be reduced to particles at the subatomic level! How did you neutralize it?!”
“For something called the ‘Amazing Beam,’ that effect is terrifying!”
I mean, if it really was that dangerous, then maybe the name made sense.
No, never mind. It still sounded ridiculous.
“Enough! If this is how it is, then we shall deal with you personally… Ugh?!”
The aliens faltered mid-sentence, their movements stiffening as confusion and unease spread across their faces.
Something felt off, and judging by everyone’s looks, it seemed I was involved again.
The aliens, realizing their beam attacks were useless, had tried to rush us directly. The instant they moved, however, they suddenly clutched their throats and began to writhe in agony.
“I… I can’t breathe!”
“W-What’s happening?”
“Blub… blub blub?!”
“Aaagh…”
A moment later, whether from oxygen deprivation or sheer panic, they lost consciousness and dropped straight out of the sky, crashing helplessly onto the ground.
✦ ✦ ✦
“Could you all please stop looking at me like that?!”
I was just as shocked as everyone else. They had made such a dramatic entrance, radiating overwhelming menace, only to go down the exact same way as the earlier creatures. Who would ever expect them to be defeated by a lack of air? Was this some kind of cosmic hierarchy? Land and sea were already taken, so was air secretly the final guardian?
An awkward silence hung over us until Tsukikage let out a long sigh.
“Very well… Whatever the reason, the enemy’s commanders have been defeated. All that remains is to deal with their leader, and then—”
“That moment shall never come.”
Everyone froze.
The voice echoed from above. When we looked up, we saw it.
Hovering in the sky was a being similar in appearance to the so-called Four Heavenly Kings, but with thick tentacles sprouting from its back, as though it had undergone some grotesque upgrade. There was no doubt it was one of their kind, yet the pressure it gave off was on a completely different level.
Yaiba inhaled sharply. Tsukikage’s posture stiffened, and Saria and the others instinctively readied themselves.
Okay, yeah. This one actually looks dangerous.
And yet, before I could stop myself, the thought slipped out of my mouth.
“They really don’t have much variety when it comes to entrances, do they?”
“Is that seriously what you’re commenting on right now?!”
No argument there. Absolutely fair.