Chương 77: Return I

The Fun Place, aka Hellworld, lay behind us, one set of tyrants poorer after our passing through.

"Gosh gee golly darn dang, what an invigorating adventure," I said.

"It was barely a week, and most of that was spent walking. I feel like I could get up and do it all over again. It's a damn shame I can't remember half of it due to all the sleep deprivation, and my concussion. And my concussion. And my—" Parsnip grabbed my head and shook it.

"You have to let go, Sam, the accident was twenty years ago!" The ensuing chase around the fire pit caused many chuckles and cries of joy. It was, all said, amusing. The giant demon known as Pol'kraka-takka't'lok leaned back against the feathers of Momma-Bird, chewing a purple cob of corn like a cigar. It smoked slightly in his mouth, the smell barely cutting through the brimstone air of The Fun Place.

He had studied the language of the fae in his free time, and since both Parsnip and Silica were privy to it, it was our common language.

"Do you plan to do that thing you did with your sling again?" I gasped.

"I would never! You know full well it was an accident. One might even say he fell off his throne due to a heart attack."

"Your whip cracks with the sound of a gun," Silica muttered, whittling away at the ivory horn of a demonic, flying cow that had charged us for looking at it wrong.

"You are a liar, Sam!" Parsnip chuckled. Pol nodded sagely.

"As the owner of this land, I hereby declare your punishment to be dinner."

"Eeek!" I scrambled away, features exaggerated through [Elasticity] and [Of Many Colors] like an old hand-drawn cartoon.

"I'm sorry, I mean it! Spiders don't taste good. We're bitter and bristly and I'll bitch and moan through every bite—"" To make dinner," he said, tossing the rest of the corn cob into his sweltering maw. He had a sort of constitution that allowed him to burn food at a hundred percent energy efficiency, and store that energy for a variety of demonic-themed abilities in a pouch on his neck that looked like a frog's vocal sack. Most of them just materialized as him breathing fire in odd ways.

If he had a whip, he would've resembled a fuzzy balrog with an upturned nose.

"Oh. That's a more reasonable punishment." I found some of the hot rocks that seemed to produce heat by simple exposure to the air, and gathered them into a little pyramid on the fireplace. From there, I conjured up a pair of pans. Pol was nice enough to loan me these after I grumped that I missed actual cooked food. And I only had to pay him ten soulcoins over just as many installments for them. Of course demons accepted souls as payment. Why wouldn't they?

While frying up some buttered corn, I considered that I may have gotten scammed. But so what if I was? After encounters with a couple more murderbots, outwitting The Grendel, and shaking down the rules-lawyer-bandit of Kraka-doo, I was flush with soulcoins beyond belief. [Soulcoins: 7914] The only thing that surprised me more than the price of the pan was not just that soulcoins were an accepted currency in The Fun Place, but that they had been using soulcoins long before us.

Life on this planet had intrinsic worth via its soul and, upon death or selling it, that soul became legal tender in quite a physical manner. Some philosophies encouraged a good life, equating your soul's worth to how many goods it could buy. Of course, those that profited were the ones harvesting coins. A billionaire on Hellword could very well use those coins to live a life spanning thousands of years, much like a fae baron could leech a percentage of his people's vitality to do the same.

Maybe this was the end result of giving us Custodians the powers and mechanisms we had. Maybe this was what The Pactmaker was afraid of. Or maybe, he was just a jerk. Apparently, vampires originated from this place as well, which was… not so good for PR. But after learning where exactly the first werepeople came from, I decided that the past involved decidedly too much dark magic for my taste. Basking in the present moment was much more productive. I couldn't use anger, sadness, or disgust for spells anyways.

Soon, dinner was served: Pan-fried corn-cobs in a spicy chili oil, a dried and slightly bitter fruit — all fruit on the sweltering Hellworld was dried and nearly bereft of water — and some thin meat in a peanut sauce that reminded me of mutton. The gang dug in, and though I was focused on my own food, my extra eyes couldn't help but observe them. Silica sat prim and proper, deftly ferrying one piece of food after the other into her mouth, eating each individual item and condiment separately.

Parsnip, unbound by the demands of her mother-mother for manners, devoured what she could with gusto, licking the dregs of peanut sauce off the bottom of her plate all too soon. Pol and I ate at a more sedate pace, slow enough to allow for conversation.

"I must say, you have a knack for…" he gestured at the campfire and everything around, "this." I watched Parsnip finish her plate, then eye some of Silica's meat with her fork, despite there being plenty left in the pan. The little shit was enjoying challenging the fellow weapon wielder's patience, ability, and tendency towards mercy. And Silica, for all her indignant yelps and dagger-like stares, was coming to smile more and more every day because of it.

"Making friends?"

"Yes, that too, but it is more than that." Pol chewed thoughtfully, no doubt more deep wisdom hiding behind the gnashing of sharp, bat-like teeth.

"You bring controlled chaos, like an Ir'kwecht in a pantry."

"Those little lizard things with grabby hands?"

"Those exactly. It is like opening a cask of fresh offworld air, like bathing after a long week of labor."

"Is that what I've been smelling? I hope you bathe more often than once a week." He gave me an admonishing look. Pol was trying to make a point. I wouldn't say that he was like a brother to me quite yet, but he just had that sort of vibe that made others perceive him as a brother-like figure in which they could place their trust. Sorta like Mason, except less prickly.

"You bring joy to whatever it is you do, Samantha of Earth. And that makes people want to follow you. Brings them together, makes you a leader." I laughed nervously.

"Oh yeah. Me. A leader. Fantastic."

"You don't like the idea?"

"I…I know a girl who can see an entire battlefield through her many drones, make snap decisions, and still cast spells to support people. She is a good leader. I have a mother who, even when faced with sickness and sometimes difficult daughters, never stopped making the mundane seem magical. I love a girl who, for all her faults, has tried to work through them, tried to be better so hard it alienated her from the world." I paused.

"I am none of those people. I am me, Sam, always scrambling from the backfoot, always reacting. A leader needs to move forward with purpose. I try my best, but that's it."

"Is that not enough? There is such a thing as leading by example. Not everyone can imitate the way Silica swings a sword, or how Parsnip juggles tasks. But everyone can try their best." He put some more corn on his plate.

"You'd be surprised at the impact being yourself can have on people." The dessert was a bit of honey mixed with popcorn, which I made by tossing some uncooked corn kernels in between two pans. It was a delight that everyone enjoyed with sticky hands. Then all too soon it was time to sleep. Most of the others did. I was wide awake as usual. With around 300 points in Body, I was lucky if I slept for a full two hours.

Sometimes I just stared at the little wifi icon on my system interface, hoping that it would turn on just for a split second. Other times I went for a jog or did some calisthenics. Addy wouldn't exactly feel the need to praise me for keeping up with my training during travels, but she would definitely be disappointed if I didn't. Addy. The thought of her made my stomach contract painfully. I got up. My knapsack was filled to the brim with souvenirs she and all my earthside friends would certainly enjoy.

But still, no amount of presents could undo the fact that I didn't head straight back home, back to her and them. I summoned my system interface, opening one of many documents I'd started and since binned for too many reasons. But tonight, I was filled with an unusual sense of focused, committed inspiration. My fingers flew across the system-conjured, holographic keyboard. The first rule of being a magical girl is to embody the color of your soul. The second rule of being a magical girl is to make friends.

The third rule of being a magical girl is, no matter what, to always manage to save the world. These are the values which I enshrine as the highest of all. Those among the Free Poker League who embody these may rest assured that goodness spreads. And one day, perhaps quite soon, the world will know that we are girls and boys, women and men, lovers, loved, loveable. On that day they will know that a weapon too can bring a smile to the world. — oh yeah, this is great.

"What are you writing?" Parsnip's face was inches from my own. I flinched away with a yelp, which didn't dissuade the bug girl.

"Nothing!" +++ Our departure was swift, and we were all glad for it. The Fun Place was as odd as it was smelly. Best to leave it in the realm of memories and photobooks.

"I'm coming with you," Pol said as I strapped everyone to the back of Mama-Bird. I blinked at the demon dressed in his good farmer's clothes.

"Really? Who'll take care of your farm?"

"I have some imps and other cousins contractually obliged to manage it while I'm away on business trips. I've always wanted to visit this 'America' place. Do you know what we call it here in The Fun Place?"

"America?"" The land of golden corn." He spoke the words in English with a sort of trilling-grumbling accent.

"I shall be on the lookout for new strains that might thrive on my farm. And if I get sidetracked for, say, a year or seven, well… I can write off the expense as a business trip."

"Ah, the power of the ever-reliable loophole." He nodded sagely. Momma-Bird was all sorts of annoyed as I strapped the rather weighty demon to her back. Comforting her and grooming her chicks was my job as much as it was finding out where she was taking us next. Because I had little control over that, and I was starting to suspect that neither did she. I tossed her a bony fish that weighed fifty pounds as a bribe.

"We are going to Earth next, right?" She gulped the entire creature down in one go.

"Home. Yes." Good. I can't wait to have warm showers, good food, and refrigerated drinks again. Once I'm back, I'm doing nothing else but enjoying the company of my friends, and maybe taking another class or two on intercultural relations. I'll eat nothing but fried food together with Addy for a week while we watch Doctor Who, lazily sprawled on the communal couch, clothed in whatever clothes smell the least bad, living like slobs. I frowned. I think I'm forgetting about something important.

I gave her a rub on the wing, strapped myself in, and then we were off. Clouds, wind, yadda yadda, you've heard it all before. The moment I saw red sand a mile below and heard the familiar sound of message pings, my heart nearly jumped out of my throat. [Connection established. Welcome back, Samantha. It has been (97) days since your departure. For your high-risk deployment in depths beyond (12000) meters and (4) different planets, your deployment counts as an additional (3761) days. Various individuals would be interested in a debrief.] Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. [Your volunteer period has elapsed. You may only volunteer again after a mandatory (6) month rest period outside of the Cauldron. You may still be called to clear convergence dome barriers during this time.] [Due to a prolonged disconnection, delayed rewards may become available. Additionally, experience gain may require recalibration to accurately reflect your capabilities.] [Congratulations! You have reached level 50] [...] [Congratulations! You have reached level 53] [+24 Body, +16 Sense, +24 Mind, +20 Soul, + 4 Free Stat Points, +1 Essence slot, +1 Spell Mod Point] [You have (1067) unread messages.] I grinned. Oh boy did I grin.

"System, message Addy. Tell her…" My mind stuttered. I couldn't put my joy into words, so typing would have to do. <<Addy! >> <<Addy Addy Addy! >> <<ADDY! I just wanted to say your name a bunch of times. Also, slightly related: I'M BAAACK! >> I waited for her reply, waited for the small symbol in the corner to tell me that the message had been read. Neither one nor the other happened. Minutes passed as we sailed above the ground. <<Addy? >> <<Hey, you ok? >> <<Sorry that it took so long.

I could've been here a week earlier, but things just happened. Just… sorry. >> <<... I missed you. >> Still no response. My best bet was that she was asleep. It was about 3PM up in Madagascar right this moment. Weird time to take a nap. Guess I'll surprise her in person. First, gotta make sure I can actually leave without being dragged back down here by a bunch of angry Custodians.

"Oh look, it's Red Hill Forward Base," I said. Momma Bird made a bird sound.

"Friend hill?"

"Yes, many friends live on that hill. Just make sure not to look like you're about to gobble them up."

"Yes. Friend. Not food." I patted her neck.

"That's it. Land over there next to the ice cream truck please. It's been forever since I had a cone of that. +++ Chuck had a truck. An ice cream truck. He was pretty sure it was the last ice cream truck in the entire world. Turns out, when fuel prices rose, competition with supermarkets increased, and children stopped playing outside, the only place left to sell ice cream from a truck was hell. Or at least, somewhere hell-adjacent, with lots of foot traffic.

He figured that the six-figure paycheck made cleaning red sand out of his socks, boots, shirts, pants, and ice-cream-man hat every day worth it. However, every ingredient and article of convenience had to be imported, which made even just buying clothes so damn fucking expensive. He put on his best smile as he scooped two dripping heapings of ice cream into specially designed waffles made to absorb rather than leak this mess. The group of soldiers he was serving gave him a respectful nod.

"I told you he had black garlic, guinnes stout, and sake lees flavor. Best ice cream in the entire Cauldron," one of them joked, and he laughed, pretending to find humor in the situation. He was the only place that sold ice cream after all, and he made damn sure he had every flavor. They were all smiles as they left his truck. I'm probably the poorest millionaire in the world. At least watching Custodians try to figure out how to convert soulcoins into dollars was as amusing as ever.

Sometimes they even bartered with slightly magical items. Those were the most interesting customers, in his opinion, a sort of spice on his bland chocolate-and-melting-vanilla life. A sudden gust blasted sand in every direction of the plaza, sending cursing soldiers running for the nearest bit of cover. A forcefield popped up, and the red tide was redirected around his ice cream truck.

After tasting his Pistaccio, a Custodian had declared that 'this ice cream entrepreneur must be protected' and promptly welded a shield device to his truck. Chuck still shielded his eyes out of reflex, closing the lid on his goods to protect them from any lazy, slow-moving particles. The air outside his wagon was dusty and hazy with red sand. Four figures emerged from the haze, their sharpening features each more alien than the rest.

The one in the back was a bat-demon-thing, the second one a walking bug that seemed to crane its neck and gawk at everything, and the third one an elf with the complexion of bleached bone, or sub-par vanilla ice cream. The woman at the front was the most normal of the bunch, and that was saying much since she was staring intently at him with six large eyes. She cleared her throat, and he realized she had six hands too.

"Three scoops of vanilla in a waffle, another waffle with peanut, coffee-cream, corn, and pine needle, one scoop of everything in a big bowl and an extra waffle, and for me… just some chocolate, please." Chuck blinked at them. Behind them, the shadow of a gargantuan creature rose from the mist. It made a sound he'd only ever heard in a dinosaur documentary. She's definitely a Custodian.

"And the bird?" he asked dumbly.

"She's pescitarian." He blinked.

"We serve six blends of fish-flavored ice cream."

"Awesome." The woman paused.

"In that case, I'll take two tubs of that." Two friggin tubs. Yessir, ma'am, you're the boss. Crazy friggin people. He received an entire ten soulcoins despite only demanding eight which, by current transfer rates, was a fortune. Chuck almost asked if they wanted another helping, but one long look at these unusual people enjoying what seemed to be their first ice cream ever made him pause. Huh. Why do I feel so warm and fuzzy inside?" El helado es lo mejor!" said the bug, and everyone else nodded.

Moments later, the dust of sand disappeared into the sky. A whole cohort of Custodians were standing in the plaza, groups of two or three blocking each path out. At the forefront stood a woman who was distinctly not modified by cybernetics, extra bodyparts, or glowy magic stuff, but who stood out nonetheless by the sheer presence of her neatly ironed military fatigues.

"Is that bird yours?" she asked the spider-ish woman in a gravelly voice. Chuck had one look at the woman's badge. Oh shite, that's the general. +++ I was busy having a near-orgasmic experience from my first mouthful of frozen chocolate bliss when someone cleared their voice behind me. Turning around, looking down, I was met with a woman with a military buzzcut and the no-nonsense expression of a bull terrier smelling blood. Also, she was rather short. For a moment, I just blinked at her in confusion.

Was that question addressed to me? In the background Momma-Bird made a deep grumbling squonk. The Custodians that had gathered quite abruptly around the ice cream truck shrunk back. One of the plastic person-sized action figures, a Joe Bandana with what looked like soldering marks running across his chest, was waving at me from his position flanking her side.

"Is that… is that you, #1?" I asked.

"Sam?" the Joe Bandana said with disbelief on his face.

"You're alive?"

"I mean, unless Custodians have been reclassified as undead, then yes I am. How'd you get better?" He laughed.

"They fixed me up after Hill 43 from spare Joe Bandana parts. I'm good as new." I wanted to jump in place and then hug the plastic soldier dude. But there was the problem of the short, military looking person, who appeared to be in the process of popping a vein on her forehead.

"Now that you pansies are done gossiping," she gnashed, "Custodian! Report!" [General Maul, Leader of Red Hill Forward Base] [You might want to be polite] Crap. I stood straight, saluting with an ice cream cone across my brow, only for the scoops of chocolate to fall straight off. I caught them, if barely, swiping them out of the air on my cone without even needing to use [Arms & Arms Proficiency]. When I looked back up, some people had their weapons leveled in my general direction.

"I, uh, Custodian Trigger Happy, returning from an involuntary recon mission." The look on the general's face was incredulous.

"Recon?"

"I fell off the side of the map, er, the Cauldron, ma'am."

"How far?"

"Seven, eight miles?"

"Is that where you got that bird from?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Is it friendly? Carnivorous?"

"It is, ma'am. Friendly, I mean. As far as I'm concerned it's pescitarian."

"A what now? Custodian, I didn't ask you what species it is, I asked you whether that thing will start gobbling up my service personnel like fingerfood!"

"She eats fish." I said quietly.

"We are in a desert. Do you see any fish swimming about?"

"No ma'am." I decided not to mention that I'd seen a few whale-sized individuals around Hill 43 before and during my descent. The military woman wasn't calming down. I could see it, with nostrils flared and all that jazz, but I could also feel it. There was a spicy smell of anger in the air, and if I wasn't mistaken then the air around her was tinted the slightest bit red.

"Welcome back, Custodian. Get yourself decontaminated and we'll have you up and at 'em again in no time." The woman turned, and barked at no one in particular.

"And someone get me a proper debrief!"

"I, er, um…" she was already stomping away. Dangit. I sorta had things to do, people to see, apologies to make, and the spark of an idea to spread. As a Custodian I wasn't exactly under any one country's military branch, but if someone high up said I needed to go through decontamination — reasonable, given the amount of mindworms and other parasites in The Cauldron — then resisting would be impolite.

"Don't worry Samantha," said Joe Bandana #1, "Decon is real easy. First they scrub your body, then they scrub your mind, then you fill out a questionnaire, and if your answers don't diverge from your personality profile too much, you're free to go."

"And if they do?"

"Ah, well, I'm sure it won't be important. Worst case scenario you'll be sent to additional rounds of decon." He put a hand on my shoulder, and I flinched away. Flinched. Actually, visibly recoiled. Me, the touchy-feely-hug-bug girl. Have I changed that much? Joe Bandana looked as confused as I felt. He stretched out his hand towards me again and suddenly, I was back in that trial in The Academy, a dozen unfamiliar eyes judging me, chasing me to the depths. Magical girl rule #1. Be happy. Be optimistic.

None of the people here have shown any hostility towards me, specifically. They're just careful, spooked by the bird. At their core, people want to be good. I breathed in and out and shot him a smile.

"Sorry, I'm good now. So, how does decon scrub my—" [Attention Custodians. Incursion detected. Xenotype: Murderbot. Size: Army. Direction: Down. Breakthrough: Likely] The ground rumbled, then tore. A tent flap rose into the air, a giant mechanical worm-thing shredding the tarp between so many rotating teeth. After a couple seconds of shock and confusion, the Custodians nearby immediately opened fire with spells and enchanted weapons, taking the thing apart in moments.

One emerged too close to Momma-Bird, who pecked at it, magically sharpened beak shearing straight through the metal. In those short few seconds, three more tunneling worms had emerged across Red Hill Forward Base. Their sides opened up to reveal hidden compartments, flooding the air in a swarm of shuriken drones. Real-world alarms were blaring now. The base was under attack. I ducked under a whizzing bladed drone.

"Back to Momma-Bird, quickly!" We ran across the plaza, Silica buffing herself, Parsnip pointing at drones and making them explode with her boomstick, and Pol spewing flames the color of coffee-cream that caused entire swaths of them to fall in slagged heaps above our heads. Their blades were dulled, and one of the melted drones hit me in the face with the consistency of lukewarm ice cream.

Spells were flying everywhere, drones bunching up into balls of crushed metal, others exploding from the inside, others more being chased by tiny pink copies of themselves that burst into flames the moment the two touched. But there were so many, like a sky suddenly covered in a flock tens of thousands strong, and more were coming from inside the giant metal worm transports.

"Go go go!" I yelled, picking Parsnip up after one of them nicked her leg and tossing her at the back Momma-Bird, where the chicks were still latched onto her, squawking in distress.

"Cut them free, place them beneath her!" With a dance, hop, and a twirl a beyblade would have trouble imitating, she sliced through the spider silk with ease. The moment the small chicks had tumbled off her back, Momma-Bird switched from snapping at the drones in the air to making a protective shield of metal feathers around them. I turned around after the four of us slipped right under the edge, which lowered with a heavy clonk.

I breathed a sigh, swore at the fact that I was limited to primitive weapons, and immediately remembered that I was back in System coverage. One moment. It had been a subjective age since I'd used the system to buy anything. But that habit returned as easily as the seasons. System, ten quickloaders for my Lucky 7: Three anger, two sadness, three joy, and two rainbow colored wheels. Also, make me a list of weapons that are highly effective against current threats.

[Acknowledged] [Soulcoins: 7914->7704] Within a moment of entering the protective Momma-Bird shield, I turned around.

"Is anybody hurt?" Pol plucked a pair of drones from his prodigious bicep.

"This illegal incursion has inconvenienced me greatly. I have dropped my ice cream. They will pay for both material damages and the emotional damage caused in due course."

"I-I-I am not e-e-equipped for…" Silica was rummaging through her own massive backpack, throwing grisly helmets covered in spikes and swords that moaned only slightly around our safe space.

"Give me some t-time to g-gear up."

"Time, right. I can do time." I looked at all the others.

"Welcome to my job. I'm going to go out there and probably die a lot. But I'll be fine. Probably."

"Oooh." Parsnip picked up an umbrella that expanded into a shield of interlocking scaled plates in her hands. She flapped it open and closed, twirled it with all the pizzazz of a showgirl on Broadway.

"Can I take this one? I promise not to break it too quickly." Silica had a slew of weapons, armors, and tools of an executioner's trade in her backpack. The armors only fit her, and some weapons just flat out refused to be held by either demon or bug, but within a minute or so, Pol had found a maul that spoke in verse and a large tower-shield that stared at people with a single judging eye.

It was hard not to stare at my friends from beyond the world and think 'LARPers' rather than 'heroes who'll help save the world'. I took a quick peek out from under the metal feather dome, spotting a soldier on the floor, screaming and holding his bleeding arm. I webbed him with my webbing arm and yoinked him right under the dome. System, instabuy ten time bandaids and general medical supplies. [Soulcoins: 7704->7210]"So, change of plans: You all stay here while I go and fight the murderbots."

A whole heap of supplies, bandages, and whatnot appeared all around me.

"Absolutely not," Parsnip said.

"I am a huntress. I must perform and I must kill."

"You will be helping these people, my people, more if you tend their wounds instead of giving a dance performance."

"As a farmer, it would be highly dishonorable to hide away beneath this giant fowl," Pol noted, while his maul said: " Under treacherous guises, belayed, beset, and under attack. Don your disguises; I must whack." I gave Parsnip a time bandaid and guided her hand towards the soldier's broken arm.

"Humerus."

"I don't see what's funny about it."

"The bone."

"That's very broken. Are you sure this isn't one of your human jokes?"

"Just put the damn bandaid on there," I groaned." What the fuck," the soldier I'd just rescued muttered in Spanish, delirious and in shock as she slapped a time bandaid on a clearly broken upper arm.

"What the fuuuck?"

"We can't leave through the hole or through Momma-Bird while the skies aren't clear. I'll clear them, reaffirm that I'm still me to the top brass, and at the same time show that you're all friendly people who definitely don't need some sort of tracking bracelet or other inconvenient measure to keep you in place. That sound good?"

"We'll keep a lookout for injured nearby," Pol said, and that was about the best I was going to get. I took two steps out from under Momma-Bird's cover, and immediately felt [One Moment] activate automatically via [Trigger]. None of the shuriken drones were on a collision course with my spidery butt, which meant the threat was coming from somewhere else. I jumped away from the spot I was standing on, sending five body doubles in every direction while I dodged, rolled, weaved together with them.

Lightning smashed into every one of the doubles from above, destroying them all in turn. When [One Moment] triggered a second time, I knew roughly where the attack was coming from. The sky was the only place with enough line of sight. There, past the towering broken and breaking worms gushing sparks and various drone types, stood a man on empty air, a staff leveled in my direction. Even as I raised my Lucky 7 I knew I wasn't fast enough.

A bolt of lightning as wide as my chest tore through me and the building behind me. But I caught the individual's face, his face. It was one I could never forget. Pactmaker. [You have died] [Lives: 6->5]