A castle stood in the middle of Wakayama Bay. The crystalline Paramian walls sat perched upon a lotus-shaped pedestal, massive yet unsinking, like a flower floating in a swamp. For weeks, it had only been a mirage, a shapeless form undulating on Nayuta’s horizon. But precisely one hour ago, as evidenced by the lights shimmering in the sky, the crystal palace had materialized. No longer was it a ghost in the distance.
Scullchance chuckled to herself. “Go, my armies. Go and kill, burn, and conquer!”
The Lioness watched from atop her balcony overlooking the central courtyard, a sneer adorning her comely face. To humans, she had the youthfulness of a twelve- or thirteen-year-old girl, but her lips wove words of violence beyond her years and her sharp eyes looked down on the soldiers with sadistic satisfaction.
The goblins were the first to leave the courtyard, carried by balloons on winds called by the archmage, drifting them along a magical current of air towards the settlement. Scaly merfolk dove into the water from the petals of the lotus pedestal, tridents in hand. And among the winged beasts were even the kings of them all—dragons. Although they were smaller than most breeds, Scullchance was impressed enough by their shrewd nature to have chosen eight of the most ferocious white dragons.
But there was still more to come. Scullchance gazed down at the expanse of blue before her from the crystal palace’s heights, as she conjured the spell for a most special guest.
“Turn, alatchakra! Oh, great wheel of flame! Bring unto this world a raging torrent of scarlet destruction!”
At the point where her gaze met the ocean, the water began to heave, until a violent tower of lava erupted from the depths. Scullchance could cast A-class spells, slaughter hundreds in the blink of an eye, but this—this she took her time on.
Gunshots filled the air. Nayuta’s harbor had become a war zone once more. Merfolk leaped from the water while goblins struck from above, their numbers easily totaling over a thousand. A militia force of about four hundred stood their ground against them. Anyone confident enough was taking shots at the balloons, attempting to drop the goblins before they could land, but it was like shooting into an ant hill, and the merfolk had already outnumbered them.
The militia fortified themselves behind portable barricades originally intended for use against terrorists, firing wildly into the increasing amount of attackers. Most of the defenders were using AK-47 copies, favored for their ease of use and distributed for free to all registered militia members. It went without saying, of course, that arming the population was dangerous for local safety and security, but the Anomalies were just too much of a threat.
7.62mm rounds pelted the merfolk, penetrating their armored scales much easier than before with the increased firepower. Goblins, too, were riddled with holes and fell in droves. And yet it wasn’t enough.
“We could really use a few more good guys on our side!” Executive Shiba yelled. He was huddled behind one of the barricades, but not in order to take potshots. In his hands, instead of a gun, was a controller, and he was currently remotely operating a basketball-shaped military droid attached to a propeller and shooting down goblin after goblin with its machine gun. “This is why I quit the military, damn it!”
“But you shoot well!” Ein noted, firing her new rifle and adding to her ever-growing body count. “I underestimated you, Shiba!” The Type 20 had been meant to replace the Type 89 a few years ago, with its shorter body and greater resistance to water, but it never managed to displace its predecessor in time. Ein found it quite punctual in their current situation, though. She frowned. “Out of ammo. I need your gun and any spare ammunition you have.”
“Be my guest! Not like I could hit the broad side of a freakin’ barn anyway!” One of the AK-47 duplicates lay strewn to his side. Ein quickly picked it up and promptly placed the crosshairs between an unlucky gremlin’s eyes. Unfortunately, the ammo wasn’t compatible with her now-discarded Type 20. “Hey, didn’t anyone tell you which weapons we’d be using? It’s pretty convenient when you can share bullets.”
“Oh, I heard.” She pulled the trigger and the goblin’s head popped. “I simply don’t see the romance in using what everyone else is. I’m very particular about my appearance, even in battle.”
“You do know this is a war, not a fashion show, right?”
Ein whipped around and scowled. “Shiba, they’re flanking us!”
The militia’s main force had taken cover facing the ocean, where the merfolk and goblins were attacking from, but a new contingent was quickly encroaching from behind—pig-faced trolls. Over five hundred of them. The behemoth super soldiers stomped closer, clad in full black armor and wielding giant battle-axes. Overhead, a number of white dragons were swooping beneath the clouds.
Shiba pulled his hair in frustration. “How did they get there?! And dragons?! You’ve got to be kidding me!”
“Firstly, I expect they were teleported. It would be child’s play for the Dharva. Secondly, pincer maneuvers are an elementary tactic.” Ein fired the AK. The bullet shot towards a gap in the troll’s armor, only for it to be deflected at the last moment. A Projectile Protection spell—the bane of humanity. The fae creatures sneered in satisfaction. Some roared and charged, bringing their axes down hard on their fleshy, defenseless enemies. Ein unsheathed a vicious kukri machete. “I suggest you find yourself a new weapon, Shiba!”
“How many times do I have to tell you people that I can’t fight?!”
Shiba had tears in his eyes, and he wasn’t alone. The militia fired on the trolls in vain while others warily prepared military sabers, spades, or anything else that could pass as a close-range weapon. But the enemy towered over them at three meters tall. They were no match, and the screams of the dying quickly replaced the gunfire.
“We were supposed to be safe!” someone cried.
“It’s a massacre! God, please, someone!”